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witch-and-her-witcher · 2 months

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nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

For my darling @asnowfern!

Ao3 | Chapter 21/30

~*~

Flying is one of the singularly worst experiences — second only to winnowing.

The lack of control. The utter reliance on another being for safety. The stomach-churning heights.

It’s a physical representation of the last several years of her life.

Nesta hates it, loathes it, resents it as the main mode of travel in Illyria and for dredging up the similarities in her mind.

Regrettable as it is, at least clinging to Cassian for dear life as he takes off into the vast blue sky doesn’t set Nesta apart from the other females in the camp. Doesn’t set her apart anymore as the fragile, incompetent human.

There are only two more females joining their contingent to the neutral ground for their meeting, one is Devlon’s wife, and the other is another high-ranking male’s wife. They’re much older, experienced, and look at her like a liability — which is almost worse than animosity. One of them had muttered something about the smell of her fear being bad luck before a flight.

The only leg up Nesta seems to have is her lack of wings while being carried in flight. The Illyrian females have to take extra care to keep their wings tightly tucked against their backs while in the air or risk catching a draft that sends them or their partner careening in a potentially lethal free fall.

Not that she should be thinking about lethal free falls right now.

At least the fear thrumming through her is a reprieve from the storm clouds of thought her head has been stuck in.

The last few weeks have been … difficult. Not that she has expressed this particular source of dark, roiling thoughts, but they’ve plagued her all the same.

The downward spiraling thoughts began with Tita Noonya and Ined’s lessons leading up to this retribution ceremony.

Nesta had forgotten how long ago it truly has been since she’d needed to remember etiquette, let alone fae etiquette. All of her mother’s hard worn lessons, her red knuckles from her grandmother’s cane …

Replaced, somewhere along the lines. Repressed?

Gone, nonetheless.

Nesta had stared at the Illyrians like a dumb ass, struggling to unfreeze her mind, unlock her body against a mild panic.

Even sweet, heart-faced Tita Ined had grown frustrated with Nesta’s fumbling. As if, once she couldn’t remember how to set tea for a fae lord, the alterations for Illyrians became impossible to absorb. Not only the alterations to customs, but even simple phrases Nesta should have had a grasp on by now.

Emerie had tried to be helpful, tried to step up in her defense, but when she snapped at the titas “Some words just aren’t possible for her human tongue, find a different one” it somehow hurt worse.

Nesta, the human they’re all burdened to coddle.

It had been all she could do to battle her mother’s voice, even her grandmother’s. Nesta was exhausted by the end of every lesson, feeling like a failure and hearing the words on repeat ringing off of her skull throbbing with a headache as she skulked off to the barn to tend to chores.

A failure of a Lady, a failure of an Illyrian’s wife.

It sent her deep into that place she thought she had healed from. Stupid, for Nesta to think that just ignoring a problem and focusing on the new path she wants to take would somehow magically fix everything.

She’d eventually muddled through it and learned what she needed to, but it was painful for all involved.

Thank the Cauldron for Cassian at the dinner table, in her bed.

She refused to talk to him about what was troubling her under the surface, although from the sidelong looks he gave her, he could likely feel some of it down the bond. But he didn’t push, would just chat with her until somehow, impossibly, sleep found her wrapped in his essence every night.

Cassian, brushing off her moodiness, making sure she remains fed, rested, cared for despite his own massively busy schedule.

Burdenburde—

No.

There’s too much riding on today to let her self-sabotaging ways get the best of her though.

This is the only taste of vindication she’ll get, as well as an opportunity to do well and make up for the public humiliations she’s delivered to Cassian.

Nesta will do well.

She isn’t giving herself an option.

She will not be the deadweight of a mortal hanging around Cassian’s neck. She will be the human woman that put two War Lord’s sons on their asses — as temporarily as it had been, she’d still bought herself that time for Jun to arrive on her own merit. The woman who charged into battle against Hybern and came back out.

Maybe not whole, but she came back.

The gaping maw, icy and dark, inside her beckons, but Nesta grounds herself in the moment. Not today, not today, she will master herself.

Tomorrow, when they’re back in Windhaven, she can collapse inward.

She buries her face further into Cassian’s neck, clenching her teeth hard enough to crack. She lets the bond’s singing brightness close up that chasm in her soul, her heart.

“Relax,” Cassian laughs, big arms encircled around her like a bear. The caressing notes of his laughter lift away on the wind, not able to reach through to Nesta’s core and ease any of her anxiety.

There’s a faint, crimson shield shimmering around Nesta as a wind block. A luxury many passengers aren’t afforded in Illyrian arms, but with seven siphons, Cassian has the energy to burn to not only maintain the shield for the extended time period, but also to shape it to keep from losing the currents he needs to stay aloft. Nesta had insisted the thick scarf Elain had wrapped her up in before departure was enough, he didn’t need to go through the trouble — it felt like an inconvenience fueled by her fragility as a human.

But Cassian had admitted to needing the outlet. Devlon had ordered it, even, that Cassian find a way to burn off some of his powers during the flight.

No one wanted the young captain arriving to the retribution ceremony with too much pent-up energy.

That thought had Nesta’s toes curling up in her boots, at the might her mate carried within those seven stones he wore, and so she endured the indignity of the shield.

“Easy for you to say, bat,” Nesta grates out. She’s keeping her eyes firmly closed, but she can practically feel the humor in his hazel eyes, more brown than gold or green at times like these when he’s giving her shit.

“Lady Archeron, unafraid to face down wyverns or fae — but squeamish over heights?”

“Laugh it up. One day you’ll face something worth pissing your pants over and I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Have you met your mate? He’s pretty fucking courageous, so that’s highly unlikely.”

“There’s little difference between courage and stupidity, you know.”

“Ouch,” he returns, laughing off her callousness again.

Gods, this male gives and gives.

For a countless time, it hits Nesta that she doesn’t deserve Cassian’s devotion. She can’t even tell him that she loves him, can’t even fully broach the subject in her own private thoughts.

One day.

One day, thanks to his endless patience with her, she’ll be able to work up the nerve.

#CYLMWIHM #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfic #my writing

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theladyofbloodshed · 4 months

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Chapter 6

(Sorry you had to wait 6 months)

Limbs aching from holding the heavy bow, Nesta was ushered into the home by Lucien as the sun began to set. If there was any sort of frostiness between her and Vassa as the queen emerged for the night, Lucien’s warmth melted it quickly. Although she did not know the mortal queen very well, Lucien ensured the conversation flowed easily amongst them then when Jurian arrived back, the conversation was taken up a notch. Nesta was happy to sit beside the stove as words were parried amongst the group although a deep longing for something like this began to grow inside of her. Somehow these three mismatched people had come together and a friendship had bloomed. Although she had Emerie and Gwyn, who she loved dearly, their interactions were always shaped by Cassian or he was always nearby as if to oversee it. Nesta did not have friends she could go and visit without assistance or Cassian lurking near.

She was broken out of her wistful dreaming by Lucien’s hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to get to her feet.

‘You’re a guest so do not need to help us to cook,’ he explained. ‘If you’d like a bath, I can run one for you or you can get comfortable in the lounge. Vassa has a few books you might like.’

‘There was one in your room actually that intrigued me with the burgundy cover.’

Lucien swept his head downwards. ‘Help yourself. Shall I run you a bath?’

Nesta stood rooted to the spot, blinking at him. Surely this was a trick of some kind? She waited for Lucien to lead into a line about massaging her or helping to wash – like Cassian would – but, instead, he merely waited for her answer.

‘A bath, please.’

When the water had been running for long enough, Nesta entered the bathroom with clean clothes bundled under her arm to find Lucien using his magic to heat it. He swirled his hand through the water, ensuring the heat was thoroughly mixed.

‘I wasn’t sure how hot you liked it. Vassa prefers it scalding.’

For a moment, Nesta had forgotten they were beneath the Wall where magic could not be employed to heat the water in the pipes. She remembered the days of heating buckets of water over the fire after pumping it from a freezing well – then the bath being cold by the time the second bucket had heated.

‘You do this every time?’

‘It’s good to let magic out.’ He added, ‘I don’t always do it for Jurian.’

With only the sounds of water hitting the metal tub, Lucien continued letting his fire magic crawl beneath the metal tub until steam rose up towards the white tiles.

‘That’s deep enough,’ she said.

There was only five inches in it, but that was deep enough for her.

‘It’s not a problem,’ replied Lucien. ‘My family have a strong streak of fire in them.’

‘It’s not- It’s not that.’ Nesta stared down at the shallow water. ‘It reminds me of that day. I don’t like the water very deep.’

To anybody listening, it ought to have sounded pathetic. It really was pathetic. After all this time, Nesta still could not take a bath without guiding herself through it with a constant inner monologue to reassure herself. But this was progress for her. Long gone were the days of standing in an empty bath and using buckets of water to pour over her bare body. Cassian didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand how she wasn’t over it yet.

Lucien glanced between her and the bath tub before realisation dawned on his face. The tap was turned off.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘It’s alright,’ she reassured him. ‘Nobody does. This is perfect.’

Lucien left her to bathe with an expression of hopelessness on his face that Nesta wished she could scrub away. None of this was his fault. Once, maybe, she blamed Lucien for the Cauldron but he’d been collateral damage, just as she had. Ever since, Lucien had made amends, serving another court, a different high lord than the one he’d pledged his life to.

Her arms and shoulders were sore from archery. The bath had done nothing for the ache except bring it to the surface. Thankfully, she managed to button up the last few buttons without assistant but her muscles burnt afterwards. From all of the trainings with Cassian, Nesta had presumed she was at the fittest she would ever be, but clearly her feeble arms required improvement.

At the bottom of the stairs, she caught the tail end of a conversation.

‘Give me one good reason.’

‘I’ll owe you,’ replied Lucien.

Vassa’s laugh sounded then, ‘Jurian, being in an Autumn princeling’s favour can’t be thrown away so easily.’

Jurian swore then she heard the back door creak open.

‘The things we do for love,’ said Vassa with a sigh.

‘It’s called being kind. Perhaps you can look into it.’

The kitchen door opened, flooding in light to the darkened hallway and both Lucien and Nesta jumped.

‘Oh. Dinner is cooking,’ said Lucien in greeting.

Instead of joining them in the kitchen, Lucien guided Nesta through the corridor to the lounge where pillows and blankets were piled onto the lurid couch. The book that she had been after was placed on the small table nearby with a freshly brewed cup of tea and Lucien encouraged her to take a seat. Without asking, he lifted her bare feet onto the other end and tucked a blanket around her lap.

‘Where are your socks?’

‘I knew I’d forgotten to pack something,’ she said. ‘I’ll wash the ones I have later.’

Lucien made a tutting noise. ‘We may not have a magical house that does the work, but you are a guest here.’

‘I don’t mind to help,’ she insisted.

Lucien gave a laugh. They came so easily from him but were never sarcastic. ‘I grew up amongst high lords. Vassa is a queen. Jurian is the best chef among us – but I doubt any help you can give will salvage our meal. It will be edible. That is all I can promise.’

There was something alluring about his expression that Nesta could not take her eyes from. Lucien had a way of making her smile. Perhaps because he wore his own readily that it encouraged her own one to make a shy appearance. Everything that he did was easy or carefree. Not in the way that Rhysand did what he wanted and damned the consequences, but in a more natural way that suggested he’d bloom no matter the season.

‘Enjoy your book.’

It was strange to be doted upon. Stranger still to not have to pay as a result. Cassian was offended if Nesta wanted a night in the library alone to read so had to make it up to him, or if she wanted to see Emerie, he’d want payment in the form of her body. Lucien did not expect anything. He’d sat her down here because he’d known that was what she wanted.

Nesta was two chapters deep into the book when Lucien returned. Without a word, he raised the blanket from her feet and began putting a pair of his own socks onto her feet.

‘I cannot bare to see cold feet.’

With a soft patter of rain and a belly full of tea, Nesta could not stop her eyes from closing tucked up on the couch. It had been so nice to just be her for the day. No mate to tip-toe around, no inner circle to disappoint, no training, no desperate need to prove she was worthy of being around them. Each moment that she was away from the Night Court made it more difficult to return. What did she have to look forward toby being there?

The sound of the front door opening had Nesta bolting upright in anticipation.

Surely, she’d receive a warning if it was Cassian?

Her fingers gripped the blanket, heart thudding louder.

Jurian, with hair damp from the rain, shucked off his boots and entered the room carrying a package in brown paper. He winked at her. ‘You are a lucky, lucky girl.’

‘Am I supposed to know why?’

The mortal man gave a rough laugh. ‘You’ll figure it out eventually.’

The dinner was ready minutes later. A roast of lamb had been prepared with buttery mashed potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and cauliflower. Whilst mortal food lacked the same strong tastes as fae food, it was still good. When her arms began to ache, Lucien wordlessly took her plate and sliced the meat for her to save her a job.

‘What a good little exile he is,’ mused Jurian.

Jurian wasn’t wrong. There were no other males like Lucien. She could not think of another male who would be willing to leave his mate well alone when his desire was likely telling him another thing. Elain had been granted space and patience while Cassian had encroached on her space and worn her down until she’d given up her choices.

Nobody protested when Nesta collected the dishes and insisted on washing them up – as a good guest should.

Vassa called, ‘Are you making the tea, Jurian?’

‘Oh-ho, I’ve got something better.’ Four bottles of wine were placed on the table. ‘None of this faerie-piss. And – as requested – for the silver witch.’

The brown package was unpeeled to reveal a cake smothered in thick frosting.

‘Uh, no calling her a witch, thank you.’

It took a moment for Nesta to realise that the cake was for her – and Jurian had decided upon a new nickname for her which Lucien promptly shut down.

‘The cake is for me?’

‘You better share it,’ said Jurian, pointing a knife at her. ‘Carrot cake. The good stuff.’

‘There’s a little mortal bakery in the village,’ explained Lucien. ‘You probably know it.’

‘He is obsessed with this cake,’ added Vassa.

‘And now Nesta needs to try it,’ he finished.

It was a marvellous evening with each one clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and a knife in the other to chop slivers off the cake. It was divine; the frosting complimented the sponge which melted on Nesta’s tongue. They reasoned that carrot being a vegetable meant the cake was healthy too.

‘If I wasn’t a faerie, I’d have my face pressed to the glass as soon as it opened,’ said Lucien before licking his knife clean of frosting once the cake had been demolished. Nesta was fascinated by his tongue. It took an effort to snap her eyes away from him.

They talked and joked with laughter coming easier and easier as the wine went down and inhibitions loosened. There was a camaraderie amongst them that Nesta was envious of. Lucien and Jurian were the butt of most of the jokes, but it never went too far. Occasionally, a joke was made about Vassa but never did they mock Nesta despite her having lots to prey upon. The mortal pair had taken Lucien’s lead when it came to approaching her, to which Nesta was thankful.

Late into the night, Jurian clapped his hands together and announced that he was headed to bed. There was a pointed look given to Vassa on his exit.

It did not take long for her to make her own excuses – that she needed to return to her room for a while – despite the curse being lifted for only a few more hours.

Above their heads, they could make out two sets of footsteps rather than just Jurian’s.

‘She can never resist his summons.’

Nesta’s mouth fell open. ‘They’re not?’

‘Oh, they are. For many months. But they refuse to acknowledge it. I’m not allowed to acknowledge it. There’s a silent agreement that we don’t speak about it.’

‘They’re good together,’ said Nesta.

Lucien snorted. ‘They’re good at each other’s throats.’

‘Sounds like my mating bond.’

Lucien pushed the last dregs of his wine towards her so she could drown her sorrows. There was no denying it that from the start, she and Cassian had been at each other’s throats. It had not eased. Arguments were their common currency.

In the dim light of the final candle still burning, Lucien’s golden eye shimmered. This was a male who had suffered enormously. The Night Court was the third court that he’d found a home in – and Nesta could not understand why he’d risk that safety for her.

‘Why are you helping me, Lucien?’

Say it’s because you’re my mate’s sister, she thought. Give me a reason to stop staring at you and longing for what you could offer.

Lucien tracked a finger against the scar on her thumb. ‘Because you deserve better than he gives you.’

‘And what do you deserve?’

He stopped stroking against her thumb. Their eyes snapped to each other. They had suffered, both of them. From the ashes of the flame, maybe there could be something new.

The temptation to lean and press her lips to his was growing stronger. Rather than let the thought take root, Nesta stood. ‘I should go to bed.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed.

In darkness, they both took to the stairs. She was painfully aware of the warmth of Lucien’s body behind hers as they moved through the house.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Elain always had the better luck. She had their father’s love, their mother’s blessing to be herself, and now a mate who would move the heavens if she asked. And she did not want him.

Not fair. Not fair.

It blared through Nesta’s head as she crossed through the doorway into Lucien’s bedroom.

This was a male worthy of love, a male worth loving. A male who had treated her better than her damn mate with nothing to gain.

Nesta fumbled on the dresser for a way to light the lamp. Her hands trembled.

‘Here,’ he murmured, stepping into the room. Fire kindled on his fingertips as he leaned across her body for the lamp. The lapel of his jacket swept against her ribs as his fire swirled about the wick. ‘It will burn all night – until you blow it out.’

‘And if I want to keep it?’

Lucien stood upright. Each time he inhaled, she felt the brush of his chest against hers, so close they stood. He was so handsome. Not a man from her mortal stories of dashing knights, but a faerie prince who could enchant her. He already had.

‘Then its yours.’

Despite the small voice in her mind that told her Lucien was off-limits, Nesta raised a hand to cup his face. Her thumb brushed against the knotted scar tissue. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing at the intimacy.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered, still not lifting her hand away.

‘No,’ he replied. His hand went to her waist, tugging her the final few inches so their bodies pressed into the other. ‘But I still want to.’

Nesta did not know who moved first. It could have been her. It could have been him.

Their lips met and she saw stars.

#lucien x nesta #lucnes #be consumed by the flame

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bobgasm · 5 months

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kingpin ⦾ five

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x ofc!emery young word count: 2476 warnings: self-doubt, grown up conversations about boundaries,

summary: in which she has strong reservations that she’s doing the right thing

author’s note: remember to join the taglist if you want to be tagged when i post the hangman oneshot, gun for hire!

four | kingpin | six

Emery had almost forgotten the interview on Friday, at least, she desperately tried to forget it. She’s been tense all weekend, replaying every single moment of the interaction with Mr Floyd. He seemed truthful about why the previous accountant had left, although he hadn’t offered any further explanation. Emery had sensed it was deliberate – sticking to as much of the truth as he could in case he accidentally revealed something he didn’t want her to know.

She’d felt tense during the interview, but the feeling of dread had slowly started creeping up on her. She’d been truthful about moving to LA for work and also needing a place to live, but she feared that she’d revealed too much. She feared he’d been able to hear desperation in her voice, see it in her eyes. The question about what benefits he could offer her had pretty much confirmed her suspicions, which was why she’d made such a hasty exit.

Either he was going to offer her the job or not, she simply had to wait and see.

She was woken up early Monday morning by her phone ringing. She groaned and reached for the device on her nightstand, opening one eye to see who was calling. The number was unknown and she was in half a mind to send the call to voicemail. Then she remembered she’d applied for almost fifty jobs, so she cleared her throat before answering.

“Hi, this is Emery,” she greeted, hoping like hell she didn’t sound like she’d just woken up.

“Good morning, Emery, this is Bob Floyd from Floyd Construction Limited,” Mr Floyd, Bob, replied.

She removed her phone from her ear so she could check the time. It was a little after eight, which meant most businesses were already up and operating. She couldn’t fault him for his early call.

“Good morning, Mr Floyd,” she replied, silently cursing her luck. Of all the résumé’s she’d sent out, he was the first one getting back to her. “I’m surprised to hear from you so soon.”

“Pleasantly surprised, I hope?” He asked.

Emery forced a small laugh. “Of course,” she lied, rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes.

“Good,” he said. Emery could practically see the smirk on his face. “I’d like to formally extend an offer of employment. I understand that you’re required to give a two week notice to your current employers, but I’m hoping that if you agree to come and work for us, that you’d be willing to work from home until you’re due to start. We’ve been left in the lurch a bit by our previous accountant’s sudden retirement, and unfortunately, my knowledge of Wiler is very limited. It’s taken me a week to figure out how to pay wages and bills.”

“I understand, Mr Floyd,” she told him, taking a breath before continuing, “I’ll need some time to think about it and read over the paperwork, but I’m willing to be flexible and accommodate this change until my notice period ends.”

“That’s excellent news.” Emery could hear the smile in his voice and she hated that she knew what it looked like. “And please, call me Bob. I’ll send through the paperwork for you to read. Please take your time.”

“But not really, right?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“If, for whatever reason you decline our offer, I’ll need to make arrangements to find someone else. Obviously, that’s my problem to worry about, not yours, so I’ll say it again. Take your time. I’d rather you be 100% on board than halfway out the door.”

Emery swallowed thickly, sensing hostility in his voice. “I understand, Mr Floyd,” she said preemptively. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’ll reach out at my nearest convenience.”

“Have a great day, Ms Young.”

Bob Floyd ended the call before waiting for her response. Emery groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She waited a minute before checking her emails, finding a new one from Bob himself. The email body thanked her for her time and again implored her to think about her decision. If she agreed to the offer and the contents of the contract, to please sign it and return it at her nearest convenience.

She scoffed at his choice of words, her own words, that he’d thrown back at her. There were also three attachments; one was a letter of offer, one was a contract, and one was a job description. She clicked on the job description first, sitting up in bed and resting against the back of the couch to properly read through.

It was pretty much as expected. She’d handle all monetary transactions for the Floyd’s construction company, as well as their strip club and casino. It outlined her responsibilities for each individual business, as well as a section about payroll. Wages were to be paid fortnightly from the designated accounts for each business.

Monthly reports were to be run and any unexplainable discrepancies should be brought to the CEO’s attention. It was pretty straightforward, and the system Bob had mentioned they used in her interview was able to handle all of that and more.

She clicked next on the letter of offer, which again was pretty straightforward. She’d have her own office to work from, with set hours Monday to Friday. Her official role was Chief Financial Officer, which had been described in the job description she’d finished reading.

Next was the contract. It outlined her salary, which was more than generous, any leave entitlements, who she reported to, regular performance reviews and any obligations the role had.

She took the time to read each section thoroughly until she reached the section about benefits. There were multiple paragraphs for healthcare, dental and vehicle use. The part she was almost surprised with, however, was the added benefit of an apartment being offered. It detailed that her living expenses would be covered by the business pending acceptance of the offer, should she require the assistance.

Emery knew it had been added in there purely to sweeten the offer and sway her into signing that much quicker. She’d mentioned she was planning on moving to Los Angeles in her interview, which she’d hoped hadn’t shown her desperation for work. Instead, this benefit showed her Bob’s own desperation. If they were willing to provide accommodation, they needed someone to fill the hole of their previous accountant immediately.

She sighed, knowing she’d have to call Natasha and talk to her about it. Obviously, she wouldn’t sign if Nat wasn’t willing to live in an apartment that was paid for by Emery’s potential new employers. The whole plan was for them to make the move together, so it was a conversation they needed to have. If Emery got a wriggle on, she’d be able to stop in at the gym where Nat worked before she had to make her way to her own job.

Emery was quick to get changed into her cleaning clothes; a simple black polo with the company logo and workout leggings. She brushed her teeth and combed her hair, tying it up into a neat ponytail before washing her face. She pulled on a pair of simple trainers before grabbing her phone, keys and vacuum, making sure to lock up behind her as she walked downstairs to her car.

When she arrived at the gym, she made quick work of finding Nat who was almost finished with her client. Emery didn’t mind waiting since she knew the chance of Nat being in the middle of a session was likely, and she still had time before she had to be at her first house of the day.

Almost twenty minutes passed before Nat was finished and able to see what Emery was doing. It was Monday, they didn’t have anything planned that she knew of, and it was rare for her to set foot inside the gym outside of her spin class timetable.

“Hey, you’re up early,” Nat observed. “Everything okay?”

“I really need to talk to you,” Emery confessed. “Do you have a minute?”

“I have ten,” Nat replied with a smile. “Come on, we can use the office.”

Emery got up and followed Nat into the back office behind the reception desk. She waited until the door was closed before answering Nat’s first question, was everything okay?

“I’ve received a job offer,” Emery told her. “Don’t celebrate yet, this is the job I had my reservations about applying for.”

“The one you interviewed for on Thursday, right?” Nat asked. Emery nodded. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I have a bad feeling about it,” she replied. “Like why their previous accountant retired so urgently. Why they’re desperate enough to hire someone as soon as possible, and even offering a fucking apartment if I sign right away.”

“What?” Nat asked with a shake of her head. “Back up a few paces. So, their accountant retired, what, effective immediately?”

“At least that’s what I got told,” Emery said. “It’s kind of weird, right? That a company wouldn’t know one of their employees was planning on retiring so that they can try to find a replacement before they left?”

“I mean, it is weird, but maybe the person had some kind of illness? Maybe they woke up one day and said, ‘you know what? I’m out.’”

Emery nodded though she didn’t buy it. “I said I was in the process of looking for an apartment so I could move out there, since that’s where most of the jobs were. I tried not to sound desperate for work or anything, I even told the guy that I’d have to hand in a notice. Then I get the offer and in the contract one of the benefits they’re offering me is an apartment and my living costs covered if I can work part time while I work out my notice.”

“So, they’re desperate,” Nat concluded with a nod. “That’s not necessarily such a bad thing. It means there’s room to negotiate.”

“I don’t want to take the job,” Emery blurted out. She took a deep breath before meeting Nat’s gaze. “Something feels off about this whole company. On that note, the job was advertised for their construction company, but they also own a strip club and a casino!”

“I think you’ve read too many steamy mob boss romance novels,” Nat replied with a laugh. “This could be a great job, Em, but only if you give it a try. If it still doesn’t feel right, then you can resign. How long do you have to think about it?”

“As long as I need.”

“Think about it some more,” Nat urged. “It could be that they really are stuck and desperate to get someone started right away. You can always turn down the apartment if it’s too much. We can find something ourselves.”

Emery waited until the end of Tuesday to get back to Bob. She spent hours thinking about the offer and the benefits, trying to weigh the pros and cons of both. Her decision wasn’t an easy one to make, but Natasha had made some sense. She’d opted not to tell her about the man at the diner and what she’d overheard, so she chose to keep it from swaying her decision. She knew that if she hadn’t heard anything that night at the diner, her decision would’ve been made the second Bob had called to offer her the position.

“Ms Young,” Bob greeted.

“You saved my number?” Emery asked, confused by the prompt answer and that he seemed to know exactly who was calling.

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t accidentally miss your call,” he replied smoothly. Emery heard his chair creak slightly and knew he must’ve meant back in it. “I only hope you’re calling with an answer for me?”

“I am,” she said. “I’d be honoured to take up your offer.”

“That’s excellent news!” He sounded relieved. “You’ve really saved my ass, here.”

Emery allowed herself to laugh at his honesty. “I’m thrilled to be given the opportunity to with with you, but I do have to ask about the apartment benefit.”

Bob hummed. “I thought you might,” he said.

“I’d like to respectfully decline the offer. My sister and I are hoping to make the move to Los Angeles together. I’d rather travel into the city each day until we can find a place of our own,” she told him. “It’s a very generous offer though, so thank you for extending it.”

“Ms Young,” he started but she cut him off.

“If you’re making me call you Bob, then I’m making you call me Emery.”

Bob chuckled. “Alright, Emery.” She liked the way her name rolled off his tongue. “You have every right to decline it, but I’d feel bad making you travel hours each day just for work until you found something. Is there any way we can both get what we want?”

“I wasn’t raised to accept handouts,” she confessed. “They always come with strings attached. I read the contract three times trying to find some kind of fine print with the terms and conditions. Obviously, I couldn’t find any, but I’d feel like I constantly owed you something.”

Her confession left him speechless for a moment. She let him take a second to mull over her words while she tried to figure out why she’d told him the truth. Blind trust wasn’t an easy thing for her to come by – trust had to be earned. She hoped he saw it that way.

“I have connections with a couple of great realtors here,” Bob mentioned. “If you were more comfortable with it, they could help you and your sister find a place. The only part I’ll play in it is making the phone call to them on your behalf.”

Emery breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, that would be fine with me. Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, Emery. I don’t want to step on any toes here, so thank you for telling me I was crossing a line.”

“I don’t think you were crossing a line,” she found herself assuring him. “I mentioned moving for better job opportunities and you saw it as a way to help us both get what we want. In this case, the solution was a conversation about how this could work in our favour.”

“I appreciate the reassurance,” he said with a laugh. “When are you available to come in for an induction?”

“I have some time free tomorrow afternoon,” she told him. “I could meet you around half two?”

“Perfect,” he said. “I’ll see you then. And thank you again, I look forward to working with you.”

“You too,” Emery said in lieu of a proper farewell. When the call ended she blew out a deep breath, hoping that she hadn’t just made a huge mistake.

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd x ofc #bob floyd x ofc #robert bob floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fanfic #mob!bob floyd #mob!au

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lokiwaffles · 14 days

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OOF SO TIRED. Anyways, here they are!!! Ash and Em(ery)! They took about 14 hours to complete! These are their designs when they are about 16 years old, in 2015. Their clothes probably vary from loop to loop, but everything else usually stays the same. Click for better quality because it is detailed I think but tumblr still killed it. Also there are design notes!

LORE DUMP BELOW (this is stuff i brainstormed over the past few days hehe):

-Both grew up in the Sanctum, both are orphans. Em’s parents are alive, Ash’s are dead.

-born 1999, Em in February, Ash in July.

-Both are sorcerers. Emery is proficient in offensive magic, and Ash is better at defensive magic.

-Ash and Emery learn about the loop near the very beginning, by accident. They tell the Ancient One who learns the loop cannot be broken and decides to use a memory erasing spell on the two. Unfortunately the spell goes wrong. This leads to Ash and Em remembering every subsequent time loop.

-They figure out who exactly is causing the loop after a few dozen loops— Holly and Co.

-Cursed with the knowledge of the loop, unable to grow up or move on, Ash and Em try different methods to figure out how to release everyone. This involves anything from attempting to keep Iris and Holly away from eachother as long as possible, or outright killing either of them. They figure out after more trial and error that Holly’s death causes a reset.

-Ash performs spells frequently to make the pair forget any of the darker things they’ve done, with only a vague “we did that already, don’t do it” triggered in their minds whenever they think of doing it again.

-They pity Holly, vaguely, but resent her immensely. For obvious reasons.

Iris annoys them, but they’ve figured out long ago they can’t really change her behavior. They know of Gray and Izzy, but neither play a huge part in Holly’s deaths 75% of the time.

-They have summoned Mephisto, and have even fought him before, but he always either kills them or kinda just laughs at them and flicks them away like little bugs. They’ve tried bartering, promising their souls, pretty much everything. He rejects them, and seems to delight in their suffering.

-They are super super close, and extremely dependent on one another. They’re past any sort of knowable bond (romance, platonic, etc.), and somewhat in the realm of literally two halves of the same person. They know one another perfectly.

-They have had arguments that spanned a couple decades, where they just. Ignore each other for loops at a time. But they always make up in the end.

-Have canonically lived hundreds of thousands of years. Em knows everything there is to know about 2010s marine biology. Ash is really good at art, if he could only retain the muscle memory.

-They have also convinced the sorcerers at the sanctum/any available avengers to come help fight Mephisto a few dozen times but it never goes well. Mostly because Mephisto never shows up to any challenge.

-The two have left Earth a few hundred times but never really find it interesting in space.

-Emery is a somewhat obsessive planner, and has the strength to execute any plans- by force of will, or magical strength. She is smart and strong, and knows it. She has a problem where she often thinks she knows better than others (mostly Ash), but Ash hates it when he feels as if he’s doing something “for his own good” or being ordered around. Em often ignores other people’s advice as well, but Ash gently reminds her that she does need to listen to what other people say, and that other perspectives matter.

-Ash is more laid back, but is smart as well. His is more of a subtle intelligence, more emotionally attuned. He’s less strategic, but he can predict what people think and how they will act, even outside of the timeloop. He thinks often of other people’s perspectives, and is more lenient towards Holly’s mistake than Em is (but just by a fraction). It’s hard to make him mad, but if you do, know he has Emery’s full support behind him. He is stands up to Em’s bossiness just fine.

-that’s all for now but I have TONS more info so if you have questions, just ask!!! I’ve probably thought about it at some point. Or I will. Work is a great place to brainstorm oc stuff.

Oh and here are individual outfit lineups:

#art #original character #character ref sheet #ash kreeslammer #emery castillo #marvel oc #RETCON EVERYTHING FROM DECEMBER PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

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bookish-whore · 2 years

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Girls Night

Cassian x Nesta/fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, rough sex, slight praise kink, light choking, oral sex, classic p-in-v, sprinkled with fluff.

Summary: Girl’s night with the Valkyries gets derailed when Cassian gets jealous over the details Nesta shares with the girls and decides to give her something to talk about.

A/N: This is my first fanfic so please be nice to me but also, I would love any feedback or requests!

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

Today began like any other day, wake up and have breakfast with Cassian because cauldron knows he won’t be satisfied unless he knows I ate a decent breakfast; then its training with the Valkyries (and Azriel) gods knows he can’t go more than a few days without hanging around Gwyn and he thinks we are all oblivious to the obvious flirting going on; some spymaster he is. Then after cleaning up, I go down and help Clotho in the library until dinner usually… but not tonight.

No, tonight is girls night which means I get to kick Az and Cass out of the house and enjoy time with Emerie and Gywn, the boys usually don’t mind and I know they will most likely just fly down to Rita’s to spend the evening with Mor or they’ll go to the River house to annoy Rhys and Feyre, maybe they’ll get stuck on babysitting duty so those two can have some “alone time”. Regardless it’s not my problem, all I know is I have selected a compilation of my favorite Willa Colyns novels, I made up the sitting room full of cozy chairs, pillows, and blankets (and extra lighting of course) and I stopped by one of our favorite confectioners in Velaris to pick up a decadent selection of cakes and candies for us to eat while we gossip and read. At least that was the plan.

It was almost time for the girls to arrive and I needed to get comfortable for the night, we had a strict rule that day clothes were not allowed for these events, comfort was non-negotiable. So, I changed out of my simple day dress into a comfortable pair of leggings and an oversized sweater and began detangling my hair from the braided style I normally wear, letting it fall into loose waves down my back as I ran a comb through it. After a quick look in the mirror, I left my bedroom and made my way to the sitting room, as I rounded the corner from the stairs, I ran into Gwyn promptly on time as usual.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, books in hand “I know you were in charge of reading material this week, but I promised Emerie she could borrow these, and I’ve been meaning to give them to her”

I smiled at her “no explanation needed, its not like its unusual for us to all bring some kind of book for exchange no matter whose week it is” she laughed in agreement as Emerie emerged from the sitting room.

“I was wondering when you two would show up” she said with a smirk on her face “let’s get this party started, I am dying to hear the rest of this bathtub story Nes.” Gwyn nodded her head in agreement “Yes! We were so rudely interrupted last time and hadn’t even gotten to the juicy details, I want details.”

“Details about what?” said Cassian emerging from the stairs, no doubt from another late sparring session with Azriel.

“Oh, just about what a thorough lover you are Cassian” Emerie said sarcastically with a wink.

I shook my head and laughed, motioning my head towards the sitting room as a silent gesture for Gwyn and Emerie to enter and that I would follow shortly.

“What was that about?” Cassian asked tilting his head and pulling me into his arms for a quick kiss.

“Its girls night remember, so we will read our smutty romance books you tease me about, and eat junk, and talk about our sex-capades which just means I’ll be relaying stories about all the places and positions we’ve tried and what works and what doesn’t, girl talk you know” I let out a giggle at his shocked face. “You know exactly what we do! its not a secret or anything and I know you make Azriel use his shadows to eavesdrop on us sometimes so you shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Well what details exactly do you give them about our sex-capades?” he asks, tilting his head while waiting for my response.

“Everything, I have nothing to hide from them and they are curious about the general of the night court and his weapons of choice” I say suggestively.

“Everything? Like what I do to you? what you do to me? positions? places? That kind of everything Nes?”

“That’s kind of what everything means Cass, plus I’m sure you tell Rhys and Az details about our sex life, although Az probably doesn’t need them considering he has caught us in a number of compromising positions” he took a step back from me and crossed his arms over his chest giving me a stern look. He seems like he’s in a mood tonight, over what I have no clue, but he’s never really questioned what the three of us do when we spend time together.

“I just don’t see why they need such explicit details; I mean I am technically their superior you don’t think It would complicate things when they know sensitive details about our relationship Nes? I mean you didn’t think to ask if I would be comfortable with this. Come on” he runs his hands through his hair and lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal, besides it’s not like I’m writing a book about how big your dick is or how often you go down on me. I’m telling my friends about our relationship which just so happens to include details about our sex life.” I tell him firmly.

“Details about our sex life, right so I’m sure you told them all about the dining room incident. the library. The balcony. Solstice. Starfall. All of that right?”

“I didn’t think I needed permission to talk to my friends, you might be my mate, but you don’t get to decide who I talk to and what I decide to talk about Cass.”

“I think I should have some say” he replies

“Well, you don’t” I snap. His eyes narrow on mine and gives me a look I can’t quite place.

Oh, he was definitely in a mood, I thought as he grabbed my hand leading me into a small study down the hall from the sitting room and closing the door behind us.

Here we go. I thought to myself as he stared at me, his eyes darkening as his lips curved into a mischievous smirk.

“Cass, look I don’t want-“

He cut me off by pushing me against the wall in a desperate kiss, it was a clash of teeth and tongues as he wrapped his hand in my hair and tilted my head back for better access. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

His hand shifted to wrap my hair around his fist as he came close to my ear and growled “you want to tell your friends all about how I fuck you? Fine. I’ll give you something to tell them”

I instinctively squeezed my thighs together and gods damn him he knew exactly what he was doing to me as he chuckled and said, “I bet you’re already soaking wet for me aren’t you?”

He removed his hands from my hair and slowly began moving them down my body, first to cup the back of my neck as he kissed me again with the same level of intensity as before, pressing into me and deepening the kiss as I opened my mouth and allowed him access. He moved one hand down my front to the bottom hem of my sweater, slowly trailing underneath it and sliding his hand up to my breasts, my nipples hardened at the sudden change in temperature. He rolled my nipple between his fingers as his other hand took both of mine and pinned them above my head firmly holding my wrists in place. I let out another breathy moan. I could feel him smile against my lips as his leg came to rest between my thighs, I was fully at his mercy and gods damn him he knew it.

I rolled my hips on his muscular thigh desperately seeking any kind of friction to my aching clit, he was right I needed him so badly.

“That’s my good girl” He said, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck and planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses in the soft spot below my jaw and earlobe. “So needy for me” he says as his hands both move down my body to rest on my hips as he sets an aggressive pace rocking my hips against his thigh, I lean my head back to rest on the wall and move my hands to rest on his shoulders, my eyes screwed shut at the sensation and my mouth open

“oh gods” I cry out, feeling that band low in my belly start to tighten as I got closer and closer to my release.

“The gods aren’t here Nes, I am but you’re more then welcome to get on your knees and worship me”

He hands tighten on my hips and without warning he lifts me off his thigh. I whimper at the loss of friction but wrap my legs around his waist as he moves us to the desk across the room setting me on the edge. He takes a step away from me and begins unfastening his leathers, carefully removing all the hidden blades he constantly carries. Utilizing the opportunity, I move my hands to the bottom of my sweater lifting it over my head in a swift motion, and quickly discard my leggings and panties. As he removes his leathers, leaving us both completely bare I am suddenly reminded of his earlier remark about worshipping him.

I slowly sink to my knees in front of him, looking up at him through my eyelashes in the sultry way that I know drives him wild. He gives me a smirk “I bet that pretty little cunt is throbbing at the thought of my cock in your mouth, huh?”

“mmhmm” I moan back, taking his cock in my hand my mouth salivating as I take in the sheer size of him. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how big he is, how he feels in my hand and in my mouth.

I bring my tongue down to circle the head of his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head sweeping my hair into one hand. Taking his gesture as a sign of his encouragement, I drag my tongue from the head of his cock, and down his shaft until I reach the base of him using my thumb to swirl my saliva over the tip of him. Once I’m satisfied with my teasing, I look up at him as I bring my mouth around him, taking him as far as I can until my eyes water, and I feel like gagging. I slowly begin to bob my head, my hands wrapping around what my mouth can’t take as I set my pace, his hips thrusting in unison with my mouth.

“You take my cock so well” he groaned through his teeth, his head leaned back, and eyes closed enjoying the sensation of me sucking him off. “fuck” he blew out, pulling me gently off him “keep that up Nes, and I’ll cum before I even get to be inside that perfect pussy of yours”

I feel a rush of wetness between my legs at his words, the way he knows exactly what to say to make me come undone and he hasn’t even touched me yet. I stand up facing him, his hands resting on my shoulders as he pushes me back onto the desk.

“Now lean back, and let me see what a mess you made for me”

Grinning with anticipation I bring my feet up to rest on the edge of the desk, spreading my legs wide so he can see exactly what he does to me my wetness glistening in the soft light of the study. He wastes no time kneeling before me taking two fingers and coating them in my wetness, dragging them across my sensitive bundle of nerves. I lean my head back against the desk as my back arches, my mouth open in a silent moan. He brings one hand up to cup my breast and I feel two fingers enter me, pumping slowly as he dragged his tongue clear up my center. I swear I see stars because this…

This was pure devotion, I thought, this Illyrian war general, Lord of Bloodshed on his knees for me completely dedicated to my pleasure and devouring me like this was his last supper.

I feel my orgasm building as his tongue and fingers move in unison “Cass, I-“

“I know sweetheart, cum for me” he commands

And I do, my release coating his fingers, a moan escaping my lips as my vision returns to normal.

He plants a final sloppy kiss on my clit and begins trailing soft open-mouthed kisses up my body. Stopping at my breasts and grazing each nipple with his teeth before meeting my mouth in a needy kiss the taste of both our fluids lingering on our tongues. I moan into his mouth as his hard length presses into my entrance. He reaches a hand between us to line himself up as he slides into me in one long thrust burying himself to the hilt. We both gasp at the sensation.

Cassian leans back to watch where our bodies are connected, slowly pulling out of me to the tip before ramming his cock back into me his thumb moving to my clit, rubbing lazy circles while the other holds onto my hip as he sets an excruciatingly slow pace, I can feel every detail of his cock pulling out of me before he snaps back into me.

“Please- Cass, I- I- need more” I pant between thrusts. He stops and leans close to my ear.

“All you had to do was ask sweetheart.” He grins, slipping out of me and turning me around to face the desk “Now be a good girl and bend over”

I lean over the desk and spread my legs to give him access to my center. He moves my hair over my shoulder pushing my face lower to the desk. He pushes into me, the new angle hitting a much deeper place inside me, I let out a breathy moan at the feeling. His hands move to grip my hips pulling me into every thrust. He sets a relentless pace as the sinful sounds of flesh slapping fill the study.

“You feel so good, like this pussy was made for me” he groans

One of his hands holds my waist firmly against the desk as the other comes to wrap around my throat, I arch my back into his touch allowing him better access. His skilled fingers lightly squeeze eliciting a moan from me and I feel my release slowly building.

I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him as he continues railing me from behind, my hands adjusting their grip on the desk, so I can meet his thrusts rocking myself back onto him, his cock hitting that perfect part of me that I know will send me over the edge. “I’m- I’m so close Cass-” I manage to say as his hands come to grasp my hips and I can feel every inch of him as he ruts into me, every vein and ridge of his massive length as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge.

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s my good girl, you’re taking me so well” he moans

“Cass I can’t- fuck I’m gonna- I’m-” I whimper out

“That’s it baby, make a mess all over my cock” he says as the next thrust pushes me over the edge, I feel my walls constrict around him as I scream his name coming completely undone, my body feeling weak as my legs turn to jelly. He grips me tighter, pumping into me as he builds to his own release which is not far behind as his calculated thrusts become more erratic and uncontrolled. Cassian came with a loud moan; his dick pulsing inside of me as his release barrels through him his wings flaring behind him, the sensation sent me over the edge again; another orgasm rolling through me that makes my already fluttering walls tighten around him. He slowly pulls out of me with a groan.

I feel the combination of both our releases slowly slide down my thigh as he presses a kiss to my shoulder grabbing a towel from the small bathroom within the study to clean me up. Once he is satisfied with his handiwork, we begin collecting our discarded clothing pulling it on in comfortable silence.

“You weren’t really upset at all were you?” I question him with a sly grin as we both finish getting dressed.

“No, just thought I would give you some new material.” I roll my eyes at his response “Now if I recall, you have guests and I’m not supposed to be here. Have fun with the girls Nes” he gives me a kiss on the head and walks out of the study, and out of the house.

After a quick look in the mirror in the hall, I make my way back to the sitting room.

“What was all that about?” Emerie asks as I enter. She returns her attention to pouring three glasses of wine as I take up my spot for the night.

“I think were about to find out” says Gwyn, I laugh and take a glass from Emerie.

“Well…today started just like every other day” I begin.

#cassian #f!reader #nesta #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x nesta #cassian x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #cassian smut #acomaf #acosf #smut

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ae-neon · 1 year

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Now that you mention how lazy tar is written (and honestly later tog books if i’m being honest as well as cc), I remember bringing up to another user (forgot who) how it feels like SJM just doesn’t want to be a writer anymore and she continues because she’s under contract sometimes and she writes whatever because she knows it’ll sell. Like even in her interviews, she seemed like she enjoyed it more, but now it seems like she doesn’t have fun with it anymore. I genuinely believe she just wants to settle down with her family and be a housewife for all that she condemns it in her books

I am of the fringe belief that sjm was influenced in a more conservative direction by her private university experience and by her husband. I literally have nothing but coincidental timelines to base this on but I will almost always blame a man because I am a hater at heart.

The real problem is the industry and the influence sjm is continuously granted.

Why is she not edited. It's true she's basically a cash cow at this point but why hasn't Bloomsbury stepped in to at least regulate some sort of quality standard.

How did TAR make it to print with that blank map, nothing being named and Alis giving pages and pages of info dump? How did SF have Emerie's mom dying when she was born and Emerie burying her mom only chapters apart??

Why are her books getting longer and longer but less and less filled with substance???

And unfortunately SJM's influence on YA and Fantasy Romance as a whole is second to none. More and more books, 600 to 800 pages long, are being sold and marketed off vibes and aesthetics because it's been made clear substance doesn't really matter

SJM herself has no control over that so I'm not blaming her but I definitely don't feel sorry for her. If she didn't want to write, she has a big enough personal presence to say something and probably enough money to simply stop signing deals.

If she wanted to put writing second to her family, she has enough personal power, influence and money to not put out books so frequently or overlap projects the way she does.

It's not SJM's job to make space for better writers who might be overshadowed but it is her job to put effort into her own work and she just doesn't.

(sorry if this comes off harsh or angry, it isn't intended to be, I love interacting)

#anon asks #anti sjm #but not really #but kinda

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thelamentknight · 1 year

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(This is now old. Click here for updated version)

“…My dream…? …Oh, I…can’t tell you…”

Carmen Larimar is my MC for Twisted Wonderland and Twisted Cinderella. The last thing she remembers is seeing a covered man put her inside a carriage before she ended up in Twisted Wonderland. She says she comes from Meissen, Germany.

Carmen is known for being a very timid and quiet girl. She rarely ever speaks, and when she does, it’s always with a stutter. She also tends to keep to herself, never bothering to talk about her interests or feelings, since she’s always been told no one cares for her. Despite her loner aura, she is very kind and caring, and always puts over herself. This becomes a major problem however, as many students have used this to their advantage.

Unique Magic: Her UM is “Shatter Glass,” which numbs all effects of magic. For example, if Riddle were to attempt to collar her, her UM makes it so the collar shatters into little glass pieces immediately. There’s one weakness to this: Whenever it is 12:00, her UM is useless and Carmen is no longer unaffected by magic.

(Warning! Mentions of R*pe and Ab*se. Skip backstory for those uncomfortable.

Backstory: Her Father, Emery Larimar, is a wealthy man from Wonderland who was captured by STYX. Her Mother, Ingrid Weiss, is a Mafia Boss from Germany. When attempting to escape STYX, Emery went to hiding on earth. One day, Ingrid dr*ghee his drink, dragged his body through an alley, and r*ped him. Afterwards, Ingrid asked for his last name, to which Emery, in a dr*gged state, responded with his last name. He was thanked with a kick to the gut. Shortly, Emery went back to Wonderland, only to be immediately captured by STYX.

Ingrid gave birth to twins, a girl named Carmen and a boy named Roman. A couple of years later, she had two girls that were Carmen and Roman’s half sisters: Diana and Annabelle.

Diana and Annabelle were spoiled rotten. Given nice dresses, given all the things the wanted, getting the best treatment. Carmen and Roman, however, were put to work as slaves at a young age. Despite Carmen’s attempt to stop it, Ingrid k!lled Roman when the twins were five due to Ingrid’s little respect of men.

Carmen was then abused and humiliated. She was put to work constantly, and was constantly harassed by her Mother and sisters. They tore down her self esteem and self worth, and wouldn’t shy away of getting physical. This went on for 16 years, until one day where Annabelle saw a rat inside her teacup. This was not a prank of Carmen’s, but her sisters and Mother assumed it was. First, they grabbed pieces of glass and carved them into her lower half of her face. This is why she wears a mask. Afterward, Ingrid disowned Carmen and threw her on the streets. Carmen spent the next three years as a poor person until she fell and saw a man taking her to a carriage before going unconscious.

Facts:

+ Her dream is to become a Fashion Designer. She wants to design clothes that are both gothic and preppy with chic flair in them. Though she rarely shares this.

+ Carmen loves reading about King Arthur, and she reads stories as a coping mechanism.

+ She has a lovely singing voice, but she only sings when she’s cleaning alone.

+ Due to her past, she has PTSD and Insomnia. After gaining some money in Monstro Lounge, she is now getting some therapy and medication

+ She hates apples because that’s all she was allowed to eat at the Chateau. If her Mother or sisters saw her eat something else, they would choke her so she would throw up.

+ Her jeweled necklace is a translation necklace. Carmen only knows German, and therefore cannot understand others without it.

+ She is Pansexual-Demisexual and her romantic interest is Vil

+ She designed her school uniform and other outfits by herself. She doesn’t bring it up unless asked

+ Carmen gets flustered very easily, and will squeak if touched

+ She has prescribed glasses, but usually wears contacts

+ Her favorite fruit is Pumpkin, and her favorite animal is frogs

#twisted wonderland #TLK’s NRC #twst #twst OC #Twisted Wonderland OC #Twst Mc #Twisted Wonderland MC #Carmen Larimar

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im-no-jedi · 1 year

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the (true) problem with the TBB season 2 finale

the more I’ve been thinking on it and pondering wtf happened and why the fandom is reacting the way that it is, I’ve come to a conclusion about the season finale that I think explains it all.

over the years, I’ve been able to train myself to separate my personal opinions from things and look at them from an artistic perspective, despite the subject matter. things like blood and gore - although they still gross me out - aren’t as bothersome to me since taking theater classes in college and learning the science of how things like that are done in media. I’m able to look at things and critique them artistically as opposed to with pure emotion.

while I do still react on pure emotion (as some of y’all witnessed last Wednesday 😝), I also try to look back on things with that artistic perspective in mind. which is what I’ve been doing with The Summit and Plan 99. and while I can appreciate everything that happened artistically and dub each individual thing that happened as nothing short of a masterpiece, there’s one major issue that I realized right from the start that has been solidified now for me more than ever.

it was way too much content.

I’ve said already that I thought The Summit was done really, really well. the pacing was good, and it felt like the high-stakes TBB episodes we’re used to. but then Plan 99 hit. and golly gee, did it hit hard.

pardon the comparison, but everything that happened in Plan 99 was a literal train-wreck. Tech’s sacrifice. everyone getting injured. Cid’s betrayal. the Empire invading Ord Mantell. Hemlock capturing Omega. Crosshair and other Clones being experimented on. Emerie’s reveal of her true identity. and to top it all off, it ended on a cliffhanger.

that.... is WAY too much to absorb in one episode. like... waaaaaaaaay too much.

let’s just look at the fandom itself as an example. what’s everybody focused on right now more than anything else? Tech’s sacrifice. that in of itself is the hardest hitter here, by far. that alone was enough to carry the finale in terms of emotional intensity. but no, it didn’t stop there.

the team came out of the whole thing battered and bruised, with Omega seemingly taking the hardest hit. not too terrible, it’s happened before, like when Omega got taken by Cad Bane right after the whole Bracca endeavor. but here’s the thing. they barely had time to even grieve the loss of Tech before the Empire showed up on Ord Mantell. adding that plot point in so soon after losing Tech was literal lemon juice on our open wounds.

and then they had the gall to slap us in the face with everything on Mount Tantiss. do you know I’ve seen literally NOBODY talking about Emerie? we literally got confirmation of another female Clone, and NOBODY is talking about it???

this is what I mean. individually, on their own, these plot points are good and were done well imo. but geez louise, I felt like I went through a Super Saiyan fight having all of that thrown at me in one single episode. I feel like even if something like Tech’s sacrifice had been put at the end of The Summit as opposed to Plan 99, it might’ve alleviated things just a tad. still would’ve been too much though.

I’ve been absolutely blown away by every story choice made this season. I feel that way about the entire show, honestly. but I also think the finale was a misstep, solely in terms of the amount of content shown. I feel like this should’ve been the opener for season 3 as opposed to the end of season 2. at least have Omega getting captured be put off until then. cause right now, despite Omega being one of my favorite characters, I’m also still more focused on what happened to Tech more than anything else! and don’t even get me started on the Emerie thing, good GRIEF 🙄

again, individually, these plot points are GOOD. very good imo (except maybe the Emerie thing but I digress 😝). but man... why did we have to get them all at once. I remember, I literally stopped breathing at one point while watching Plan 99; that’s how bad it was. I was so overwhelmed and overstimulated and emotional that it was hard to even function. @jam-n-ham and I just sat in silence for like a full minute once the episode was over, unable to process what had even just happened. and well... I don’t necessarily count that as a good thing 😬

so yeah. all this to say, despite how good the individual plot points were in Plan 99, it was just far too much content for one episode. I think the whole thing with Ord Mantell and Mount Tantiss should’ve been held off for the beginning of season 3. because putting all of that immediately after the loss of Tech made it nearly impossible to even absorb properly as an audience. and the fandom’s reaction is proof of that.

#the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb season 2 #hope this clarifies some things for some of y'all #if you're still struggling with what happened #this is probably why #it's hard going through multiple terrible things at once #and it's unfair that we as the audience had to endure that #this is honestly why I plan on changing some things in MLWTBB #because it's just too much man #give us some time to breathe for goodness sakes #I also hope some people are able to take my perspective on it #and look at everything from an artistic perspective #because it really does help #might even change your mind about certain things #personally it's helped me cope with what happened to Tech #cause now I actually believe more than ever that he'll come back #simply because of how things were presented throughout the season #Tech is a survivor just like Crosshair #and it'll be a much more satisfying story to continue that route than anything else #\o/#star warz #tbb spoilers

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year

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A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 14

A sheet of fire was sent as a warning. It was enough for Azriel to press himself against the wall, heart thundering from the heat of it. In all these years, fire still made him bolt with fear. He’d never been able to train himself to overcome it. It was an instinct to recoil, to remember that pain that rendered his hands useless for weeks.

‘Stop,’ Nesta cried.

The fire ceased. He heard her muttering a curse in the dark. ‘You could have set the house on fire.’

‘I saw vermin. I eliminated a problem.’

‘Nesta?’ Emerie asked, treading into the room. Azriel shot out an arm to stop her. He needed to assess the situation before she entered.

The female with Nesta kindled a ball of vivid, red flame into her hands. She had the markings of Autumn; thick, auburn hair and freckles. ‘Are there candles in Illyria?’

‘Nesta,’ Emerie said again, a smile brightening her face. She was in a night gown, signs of sleep clear on her face. The hour was late. He’d not been sleeping. An Autumn Court female swinging into the room had still made him jump out of his skin though.

Nesta squeezed past the Autumn female to wrap her arms around her friend. ‘So sorry to drop in. We just wanted to check you were okay.’

Once the room was illuminated, they all stood in a circle in the small living room, assessing each other. Nesta’s eyes fell to the couch where Azriel had pulled the chair up to it as a makeshift bed. Next, she noticed the bag in the corner.

‘You’re staying with Emerie?’

Azriel had other places to go. His mother’s. His apartment – though he so rarely went there these days. He could have gone back to the House of Wind but it meant facing Cassian with the knowledge he’d pursued Nesta in the Autumn Court and been pelted by truth after truth. The River House was not an option. His temper still simmered. Azriel knew he could not be alone or he’d fester like a rotting wound thinking about Rhys’ actions Under the Mountain.

The poor Illyrian shop keeper had reluctantly said he could stay a couple of nights after he’d winnowed Gwyn back to the library. Emerie kept herself busy during the day while he haunted the upstairs. Their conversations were brief, reluctant things. Azriel was mindful not be seen entering or exiting her shop in case tongues wagged in Windhaven. The last thing Emerie needed was people associating her with someone like him.

‘Just for a while.’

If Nesta sensed the rift that had ripped between him and the Rhys, she said nothing, only stepped forwards to embrace Emerie again.

‘She still has all ten fingers,’ the other female said. ‘And the most gorgeous wings I’ve ever seen.’

‘Can I make you tea?’ Emerie asked, fighting to hide her blush.

‘No, we shouldn’t linger.’

‘Sure we can,’ said the female, slinging an arm around Nesta’s shoulder. She was missing a finger. ‘Nesta’s told me all about you. I’m Niamh. We’d love to stay for tea as long as your pet shadowsinger promises not to try anything silly.’

He couldn’t decide which irritated him more – that she knew he was a shadowsinger or that he’d been named Emerie’s pet.

‘Like returning Nesta to her family?’ He asked.

Nesta stiffened. ‘Azriel.’

‘Yes, like that,’ Niamh pressed. ‘For a male who’s had a nasty incident with fire already, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of mine. It will be your pretty face that’s ruined next.’

‘That was distasteful,’ Nesta chided.

‘As is this entire court. Tea, please, if you’d be so kind, Emerie.’

Whoever this female was, Azriel didn’t like her. He knew the Vanserras by sight. None of them had wives except Beron – and Eris now. Beron’s small council had wives and daughters, but Azriel didn’t recall her face from any of his missions. Most were meek homemakers. This female clearly knew who he was – and Eris clearly trusted her with Nesta. Azriel wondered if Nesta had spilt all of the Night Court’s secrets to her new allies.

Emerie smiled tightly. ‘Do you think we can manage it without setting my house on fire?’

Right. They were all guests in her home. Out of the kindness of her heart, she had allowed a male - who she was not wholly comfortable with - to stay. Azriel didn’t need to make her life harder. ‘I’ll boil the pot.’

‘What a good male he is. How well you’ve trained him, Emerie. Does he cook too?’

Was there something in the water of the Autumn Court that made them all irritating or did Azriel simply have the misfortune of crossing paths with only the irritating ones?

He sipped his tea in a silence at one end of the little kitchen while the three females sat at the other end. Emerie and Nesta should have had a chance to talk alone, but there was not a hope in hell that Azriel was being trapped in a room with Niamh. He didn’t trust her not to steal Emerie back to Autumn too.

Surprising himself, there was no temptation to deliver Nesta to Feyre and Cassian. There ought to have been that need. Azriel couldn’t. It was a betrayal against his brother, against his court, but he could not do it. There was a glow about Nesta that he had never seen before. Her eyes were brighter, she seemed more at ease. Her smiles came easier.

And worse was that he had seen Nesta with Eris. Eris had been decent – caring. Azriel had tried to scour the images from his mind of Nesta stepping closer to the male, of leaning into his touch for comfort. The anger had risen in Eris’ expression when Nesta had cried, a real, blistering hot fury that somebody had upset his wife. The type of anger that Cassian should have had when Rhys had threatened her. Instead, his brother had forced her to hike in the mountains until she’d broken. And Azriel had helped.

He wasn’t good with his emotions. He never had been. It was either a desert or a monsoon. Never a middle ground. He’d gone to Nesta with good intentions – that unbidden need to save females – and left with his tail between his legs, his world tipped on its side.

It was difficult to reconcile. By trusting his instincts that Nesta was a willing wife to Eris Vanserra, he was further expanding the gap between him and Rhys – even Cassian. His brother would not forgive him. But for what? Nesta was not a possession. She wasn’t owned by Cassian or Feyre or anybody else. Azriel had no business collecting her like a package.

‘How have you been?’

‘Good. Really good,’ Nesta said, a weight lifting from her shoulders. ‘I’m learning how to ride a horse. It’s terrifying. They’re enormous. Eris is…’ She cast a look to Azriel then cleared her throat. ‘Eris is helping me with everything.’

‘That’s good,’ Emerie agreed. Both females were likely guarding their words from him. He could have left the room, but his shadows were unable to help themselves and they’d listen in regardless.

‘How is training?’

Emerie fiddled with the handle of her cup. ‘I don’t go anymore. Nobody does.’

‘What?’ Nesta’s face fell as she listened to her friend explain how the numbers had dwindled until it was only Emerie and Gwyn still attending. Azriel had offered to continue their lessons, but both had been reluctant. Nesta’s face ruptured into despair. ‘But all of those hours spent training. You can’t let them go to waste.’

‘It was never about the training. It was that sense of belonging. Being part of something bigger.’ Emerie shrugged to hide her own upset. ‘Without you, it wasn’t the same. You held it all together, Nesta.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

Emerie wouldn’t hear it. She held up a palm to stop Nesta. ‘Don’t you say sorry. You… you weren’t in a good place there. I’d rather not train and know you’re happy elsewhere.’

The Autumn Court female flashed a bright grin. ‘There’s room in our court. I’d be more than happy to whisk you away.’

Another blush stole over Emerie’s cheeks. She fumbled with her cup, tried to drink, realised it was empty then blushed again. ‘What did you mean you wanted to check in anyway?’

Nesta tucked the loose strands of her hair behind her ears. She gave a passing glance to Azriel before turning back to Emerie. ‘We worried there might have been repercussions on you and Gwyn from your visit to my home.’

Azriel stayed silent. Was that what Nesta truly thought of them? That they would have hurt Emerie and Gwyn for intel. He swallowed. Yes. Azriel probably would on Rhys’ order. He was able to disconnect his guilt when necessary.

‘Spymaster,’ drawled Niamh. ‘Can I ask you a little question? Just one tiny question. I promise it’s not about your wingspan, impressive as it might be.’

She’d ask it whether or not he agreed to it. He stood stony-faced awaiting whatever ridiculous question she’d ask.

‘If your high lord is the most powerful daemati to ever have inhaled the sweet air on this world, why does he need you to torture information from victims when he can just crack open their heads like an egg?’

Revulsion quickly flashed on Emerie’s face although she turned back to her tea to hide it. She didn’t know who he was. What he was. Now she did. Now she knew the things he did for his court – and would never feel comfortable around him again.

‘He’s also capable of partaking in his own torture sessions.’ Niamh gave him a grin that had Azriel wishing he was dealing with Eris rather than this one. ‘I was Under the Mountain too. You’d be surprised how many times your high lord delighted in hurting others.’

‘Rhys did what he had to.’ It was hollow. An echo that had no base.

She slurped her tea. ‘Did he? So, why did he cut the wings off a lesser fae’s back when Amarantha wasn’t even in the damn room? It wasn’t an order. It was simply your high lord being the sadistic fuck we all know him to be.’

‘I can’t abide this, Nesta. I won’t tell them you’ve been here, but you cannot come again. Do not bring her into my court.’

It was a hard lesson, but Nesta could not have both. She could not dip her toes into the Night Court whenever she pleased – for her own safety. Azriel clung to the fraying threads of his temper as Nesta readied herself to return to the Autumn Court. She hugged Emerie tightly, promising to see her again soon despite Azriel’s words - then Niamh surprised the Illyrian female with a hearty embrace that lifted her from the floor.

‘Azriel,’ Nesta said, stepping closer to him.

‘Don’t try anything, shadow boy,’ Niamh called, bringing an arrow of fire to her hands, trained at his chest.

‘I know this puts you in a situation where your loyalty is tested – and I’m sorry for it. I promise you I’m safe with Eris.’

‘Are you happy, Nesta?’

Her grey eyes turned to the floor. ‘I am learning how to be. But I was never happy here, Azriel. You must have seen it.’

He had. He had seen her fading a little more each day and waited for Cassian to step in. Or Feyre. Or Elain. Anybody.

He could have, he realised. He could have extended the hand of friendship to Nesta when he’d first noticed her struggling. It was as if a knife had been pushed into his gut as he realised that Eris had never failed her. When she had needed him, Eris had stepped up to the mark and hadn’t once let her down. Nesta was a female of action and Eris had met her step for step. Eris was the male that she needed then – and now.

Nesta reached for his hand, trusting him not to winnow her away.

‘Thank you for never saying a bad thing to me.’

Shame overcame him. The bar was that low that Nesta thanked him for not insulting her. He squeezed her hand back. ‘If I can ever help you, I will. Don’t be a stranger.’

‘I fear I have to be.’

He inhaled. It was wrong. Yet how could he deny Nesta access to her friends when she’d lost so much? ‘Just don’t get caught coming here,’ he murmured. ‘And don’t bring her again.’

‘I’m sorry for what Niamh said. It was uncalled for.’

Another unpleasant prickling of guilt rose up in Azriel’s throat as he stared at this pillar of steel. She could turn the dining room into a battle ground with her words. But had any of them ever stopped and dared to learn who Nesta was besides Feyre’s sister. A female who had volunteered herself as a sacrifice, who’d dared to argue with queens when it came to her people. A female whose heart was good.

His hand stayed in hers although instinct told him to snatch it back, to hide it from her – just as he hid them from everybody else.

‘Won’t you come for Solstice?’

It was more than a month away yet the celebration was a time for family. A chance to pause, reflect, and gather. Feyre’s birthday.

Nesta gave him a resigned smile then withdrew her fingers from his palm. ‘Next time you go to the house, have a look at the paintings.’

***

From the moment that Nesta returned with Niamh, Eris could tell she was not right. Her hands tangled in the skirts of her dress, her jaw was tensed, and the worst was the far off look in her eye. He knew better than to push her in public so it was a slow, burning agony waiting to return to the Forest House.

If Nesta had been harmed, Eris counted on Niamh hurting whoever had done it in return. She thrived on violence.

There was no visible marks, no signs of any scuffle.

The moment that she followed Orla to another room to collect a book, Eris rounded on Niamh. ‘What happened?’

‘We met the shadowsinger.’

‘You should have winnowed immediately to me.’

‘So sorry papa. I shall not be naughty again,’ she drawled. ‘We had tea. He behaved. I threatened to set him on fire.’

He didn’t expect anything less but Azriel perhaps was the worst option for such a threat from the state of his hands. ‘Why is Nesta upset?’

‘Maybe she remembered she’s your wife.’

Before Eris could retort, the two females returned, talking quietly while Safera followed Nesta. The dog had taken a shine to her.

‘Should we go home?’

Did she want to return home with him? Did the Forest House feel like a home? Eris nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Eris,’ Orla called. ‘Your back.’

Oh. That. The cool sensation of Orla’s magic receded so that the unbearable burn of the lashes rippled up his spine. Eris knew the routine well enough. Minimal movement was preferred. He’d get a servant to apply a poultice to at least sleep through the night.

Reluctantly, Nesta took hold of his hand to winnow.

Fine. It was fine. She’d been to the Night Court. She had seen Azriel. Her emotions were raw – not a result of him. Still, Eris could not stop the sadness creeping into his heart as Nesta turned colder towards him. No, he had to follow Orla’s words and let Nesta grow without him tangling himself around her.

The Forest House was in a slumber. They had to walk slowly in order to not aggravate the wounds of his back but they saw no Vanserras, only sentries and servants.

‘What happened?’ He asked softly when they entered their rooms.

‘Nothing,’ she snapped.

Nesta’s steps were clipped, her back rigid enough to snap, as she marched forwards to the bedroom. He followed her, despite a small voice in his head telling him to leave her to sort through her own feelings. She forced the red curtains shut. Her boots hit the floor with two loud thumps. The bathroom door slammed behind her.

Still, Eris waited. His back was agony and he could not wait to lie on his front and sleep, but he would not let her go to sleep upset.

On purpose, Nesta seemed to take as long as possible in the bathroom but he was as stubborn as her. With pain lancing through his body, Eris remained upright although he held onto the bed post for support.

Eventually, she emerged. Her brows tugged downwards.

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to know why my wife is so unhappy.’

‘Because you are in my room. Get out.’

Nesta was baring her teeth, the wounded animal who hid her hurts with anger.

He kept his voice quiet. ‘I have done nothing wrong to you, Nesta. What happened in Windhaven?’

She tried to push him from the room but was met with an immovable force. Eris planted his feet even when Nesta tried again. If she wanted to strike him, she could. If she wanted to lash out, he’d let her. There was a reason why she was upset. A reason to be angry. Eris would remain calm until he found out why. If he had to pay a visit to the shadowsinger himself, he would. Nobody would upset his wife.

‘Get out. Just get out.’

Eris caught her wrists then drew her to his body. At first, Nesta thrashed, trying to break out of his grip then she sank into him, a sob breaking out of her until the banks gave way. He cradled her to his chest. A hand went to stroke her hair, the other remained firm around her back.

If that damn shadowsinger had hurt her in anyway, Eris would kill him.

‘I ruined everything.’

She wasn’t ready to raise her head so Eris let her cry into his chest.

‘Life is better with you in it. You ruin nothing, Nesta.’

‘I do. All of the females have stopped coming to training because of me.’

Eris rested his chin on her head while he continued holding onto her. He tried not to let his heart get carried away with the moment. But they hadn’t had a moment like this before, where Nesta sought out his comfort and opened so willingly. It was difficult to resist though Orla’s warning repeated in his head.

‘They don’t want to go when I’m not there. They stay in the library. Emerie is stuck in Windhaven. I ruined everything for them because of my selfishness.’

‘It was because of you they came in the first place. You encouraged them. You supported them.’

‘But I ruined it.’

‘No. You couldn’t be with them every step of their lives. Nesta, it’s not selfish to want better for yourself. You deserve a good life – and that is not with Cassian, or any of them. If the only reason that you want to return to the Night Court is so that the females can train again, it will destroy you. You cannot sacrifice your own happiness.’

‘But it’s not fair for Gwyn or Emerie or the others.’

Eris shook his head. Nesta finally looked up at him, her eyes still rimmed with tears. ‘And it wouldn’t be fair on you to be in misery. I’d rather cut off my hand than let you go back there. If I thought you wanted to be there, I’d let you go. But not when you would sacrifice your joy.’

‘Why do you care about me? I’ve done nothing to earn it.’

The question stunned him for a moment. ‘You believe you have to earn someone’s care?’

He pressed down on the anger that swelled inside of him. Not yet. He couldn’t let his temper run riot yet.

‘How would you like me to declare my adorations? In song? Poem? Should I have it recorded officially?’ Nesta rolled her eyes at his teasing – good, that was better than her sadness. ‘Because you are brilliant, Nesta. You are clever, and wickedly funny with a mind that mine races to keep up with. You have a hunger to learn which I admire. Because you are gentle and loving, giving your heart to those who deserve it. You adapt to everything – and I wish you didn’t have to adapt so much. You never complain. You get on with everything with an unflinching steadiness.’

She appeared bashful, so Eris had to continue. There was a desperation to flood her cheeks with a blush.

‘You are utterly beautiful, but when you wake up from a nap with Safera with sticking up hair and lines on your face, you’re even better. Even when you shed so much hair and I am left wondering how you aren’t bald, I care. I care about how your feet get so cold and I have to bring you a second pair of socks. You always make me the best cup of tea and never lie that my jokes are good. And mostly, because you stood in that room full of high lords and had the biggest balls of any of them. You made my father listen. I care about you because there is one Nesta Archeron in this world and I am so lucky to know her.’

Nesta made a funny sort of noise and breathed out. ‘You talk too much.’

‘I could write an epic that my children’s children would study in history lessons about you. Nesta Archeron: the kingslayer and the master of sarcasm.’

She pressed her palms against her eye sockets, fending off the last few wayward tears that she hadn’t managed to train.

‘Will you promise me one thing? Don’t shut me out, Nesta. I am here to support you. The only way this will work is if we are a team.’ Eris should have stopped. Shouldn’t have kept going down the path but he had to give her hope. ‘Next time I meet with the Night Court, I will raise the topic. Perhaps we could find a way that you could see the females without sneaking.’

Her hand cradled his face. ‘My Eris.’

***

Despite the wounds still seeping blood onto his clothes, Eris would not entertain the notion of sleeping in the bed while she slept on the couch. They were as stubborn as each other; Eris went as far as calling her a goat. To spite him, she invited Safera to share the bed with her. The dog was happy to. She’d leapt onto the mattress, span around a few times, then barked at Nesta until she was shushed.

When the morning came, they took a slow walk around the Forest House so Nesta could better acquaint herself with the vast number of rooms. There was a ballroom that she perked up at, endless rooms that held no purpose, rooms where members of the court lived, a library that she itched to visit, and a gallery that had her yearning to see her pregnant little sister.

They heard a sharp gasp as they entered the glass conservatory.

Eris’ mother froze where she stood, gazing from the windows into the gloomy forest.

At once, her eyes turned to the floor. The submissive female shrank in on herself. Her orange dress seemed to wear her, draining the colour from her already-pale skin.

‘Mother,’ he said softly.

‘Eris.’ Her reply was brittle. Not the loving call of a mother to her son. It was the wearied cry of an animal backed into a corner who could barely muster the energy to fight another day.

Where her hand rested in the crook of his elbow, Nesta felt Eris’ body tense.

After a few moments of silence, the female nodded her head. ‘I must be going.’

Her feet hurried over the runner in eagerness to flee. The billowing skirt of her gown had been lifted slightly to help her. She was a female who knew how to escape.

Nesta could not bear the despair wending itself through Eris’ features. He touched a hand to his shortened hair. She still had not told him what had occurred between the two of them on her wedding day; how his mother had been willing to risk everything to give Nesta her freedom. It was a secret too precious to share for fear of who might be listening.

‘Do you want to go for a ride?’

Eris blinked at her, realigning himself into the Forest House. ‘I have a lot of work to get through. Would you mind terribly if we remained here?’

While the rain continued pattering down on the glass above them, Nesta read in a chair. Sometimes her eyes flitted to the forest if movement caught her eye. Sometimes it was sentries canvassing the grounds on their duties, other times it was the grey streak of one of the smokehounds. Mostly, her books kept her entertained. She flitted between novels and facts. A sweeping love-story interspersed with histories of the Vanserra family. There were few love stories to be found within their lineage. The necessity to ensure an heir trumped love.

‘Eris,’ she called.

It had him prising his head up from the small table where he’d been writing furiously for hours.

‘Nesta,’ he replied, flexing his hand with a wince.

‘When was this built? It doesn’t match the rest of the building.’

Eris gazed up at the magnificent greenhouse that was filled with luscious plants. On a wet day like this one, it seemed to become more alive as if the plants hungered to be outside into the rain. It reminded Nesta of Elain. She could not help but think of how wide her sister’s eyes would become – or how strange it must be for Lucien for his mate to enjoy the same hobby as his mother. Perhaps fate really did tie mates together. Or perhaps it was simply cruel enough to pair Lucien with a female who would forever remind him of the mother he was denied access to.

‘I hadn’t known you were an architect,’ Eris teased. He crossed an ankle over his knee then leant back against his wicker chair. He called for the servant that had stood to attention the entire afternoon to fetch them tea. Once the female was out of ear shot, he said in a low voice, ‘My father built this for my mother for a wedding present.’

A harsh laugh came from him. ‘I can see you’re surprised.’

Was Nesta so awful at masking her shock?

‘He wasn’t always like that. Not with her. For a while, he did try. I think he doesn’t know how to love. Not truly. Now, he’s a bastard to everybody, especially my mother.’

It was strange to imagine it. Strange to imagine a younger version of Beron embarking on a marriage, hopeful for an heir with his new wife but perhaps even keen to see it flourish. Nesta felt such despair thinking about Eliška, who was sent to a marriage bed to only produce a son, not to be loved or cherished, simply because it had been arranged.

‘He could have destroyed this greenhouse,’ Nesta said softly. ‘Perhaps he’s realised how special it is to her.’

‘Of course he knows how special it is to her. Don’t ever give him the benefit of the doubt, Nesta. He’s threatened her plenty over it. Barred her from coming in, made her earn the privilege to enter, had all of the plants destroyed. The usual scaremongering to keep her in line.’

Their conversation paused when the servant returned with their tea then Eris sent her on a pointless errand to clear the room. Nesta took the opportunity to scan over the documents he’d been compiling – but Eris was quicker. He flipped the papers over, giving her a rueful grin.

‘Do you know why my father cut my hair?’

Nesta shook her head. She knew there had to have been a reason. A calculating male like Beron never did anything without a reason. The fire that she believed existed in the Autumn Court didn’t ring true for the high lord; he was blisteringly cold. There was no warmth. There was no passion.

‘Because my father is a bastard, Nesta.’ Eris rammed the nib of his pen into the ink with more force than necessary. ‘Did you notice how my mother jumped when she saw us? Because I look like her father when my hair is short.’

There were elements of Beron in his features, Nesta could acknowledge, but Eris always felt more fae to her. His ears were more spiked, his amber eyes wilder, the sharp angles of his face more dangerous.

‘What was your grandfather like?’

Eris tapped his pen twice, watching a drop of ink fall back into the glass pot. ‘He was the sort of male who’d sell his youngest daughter to Beron Vanserra for a pile of jewels at twenty years old. That’s what sort of male he was. My father cuts my hair so that my mother will hate me a little more.’

His anger was a rope pulled too tight, threatening to snap.

And yet Nesta had to push a little further. ‘The engagement to Morrigan. She said you had a reputation for cruelty.’

The smile he gave her was cruel enough to match her words. It was cruel. It was vicious. And Nesta knew why he did it. The servant girl might have had her head pointed downwards, but the ears of servants always listened. Nesta had already been primed by Eris that servants weren’t to be trusted. He had his own favoured ones who listened in on his brothers or father – like the one who had warned their bedroom activities would be the topic of conversation at dinner. Others were more aligned with the brothers, some to Beron, some had no loyalties and listened to everything, hoping to profit in some way.

‘Fourteen years old and already known to the Night Court for my cruelty. Are you impressed, my dear wife?’ He gathered his belongings, straightening the papers and kicking his chair beneath the table. ‘I tire of this loathsome place.’

A strange coldness needled its way between them in the following days. Eris was polite and charming, always offering his arm in public and still surrendering the bed each night. But Nesta had felt a sense of wrongness creeping in. He would drop her off to Orla’s home or the cottage in the morning after their magic lesson then would collect her just before bed.

Her hours were busy. Eris had compiled a packed schedule for her. Maceo came most days to teach her more and more about the Autumn Court. He did not know the marriage was a sham, so when he began teaching Nesta on relationships between the courts, and proper protocol, she did not stop him. It was interesting to learn the laws – and she wondered whether Feyre knew all of them too. If her and Eris did not end their marriage one day then she might end up at his side as the lady of the court, and she certainly was not going into it blind.

When she was not filling her mind, Niamh – the hellcat – had her out on a horse. She took a far less careful approach than Eris, commanding Nesta to swing herself up onto the horse and explaining that her sister was adept at healing nearly all injuries if she came off.

When they weren’t on a horse, they trained. Niamh had capitalised on Nesta’s mention of training with Emerie, claiming so few females in the Autumn Court could fight and it would stop her getting into tavern brawls if they could train. It was a different experience than training under Cassian or Azriel’s tutelage. Niamh pressed her to improve her instincts and trust her gut. The witch also fought without honour.

She had Nesta on the floor, looming over her with a big grin. ‘A tip: If you ever fight an Illyrian, go straight for their wings.’

‘You should never touch their wings.’

‘Exactly. They won’t expect it. It’ll scare the shit out of them and give you that split second advantage to slam your knife in their neck.’ Her brown eyes widened. ‘Oh, speaking of. Whatever happened to the king’s head? Do you have it gilded on a shelf somewhere?’

Orla sometimes took Nesta out with her to check on patients with long-standing illnesses. They took the horses out mostly, with Safera remaining with them. The dog had become a steadfast companion. Nesta hadn’t quite worked out whether the visits were to give Nesta a break from Niamh’s exuberance or not. Either way, she was thankful to visit new parts of the Autumn Court with Orla. The elder sister was more pragmatic, less emotional, wise and calming. She healed any bruises gained from knocks in training with Niamh, saying she would not dare to send Nesta back to Eris with marks on her.

Their conversation flowed easier each day. Although Orla was the only one with magical abilities, she still instructed Nesta how to properly care for wounds and manage illnesses. They had planned to give her a false name, but Nesta was recognised easily as the wife of Eris Vanserra. She was interrogated about taxes, the turn of winter, the missing soldiers, and more. Nesta did her best to answer their questions diplomatically, deferring to the Vanserra family where possible and never outright lying. She wasn’t afraid to say she didn’t know an answer or to promise something that she could not give.

‘You’re a natural,’ Orla said with a proud smile as they untethered the horses ready for the ride back.

‘I’ve done nothing.’

‘No. You’ve listened. Sometimes, that’s all they want. Just to be heard.’

It had been just over a week since Eris had been whipped. In that time, he had not once had a meal with Nesta. When they returned to the rooms, he’d either depart or claim he was exhausted which hurried her to bed. He could be heard, pacing sometimes, or his voice would press softly against the silence as he spoke to one of the hounds. Sometimes he did depart later on but never informed Nesta the next day.

Nesta could not help but feel disheartened. He had taken her on as his wife then put himself in harm’s way to protect her. They had shared a moment together, one where she had wanted to kiss him. Since she had called him hers, Eris had pulled back. He was likely regretting being stuck with a female like her now. She even voiced that concern to Orla; though the female was his friend, Nesta needed reassurance that Eris did not regret her.

Orla’s brows tugged downwards. ‘Is he being unkind to you?’

‘No.’ It might have been better if he spat the same vitriol as Cassian. No, Eris was polite. Always polite and charming – though sometimes he’d stop himself from smiling, becoming more reserved or aloof. ‘I know it’s a sham – the marriage – I know that. But we were becoming close friends, I thought, and now he’s distant.’

‘Eris won’t force you back to the Night Court. Please, don’t worry about that. He’d never do something like that to you.'

Heat bloomed in Nesta’s cheeks at the thought of giving voice to her foolish worries, but she was insecure. She could not stand the feel of the ground shifting beneath her, that Eris was drifting away. ‘I feel as if I’ve done something to annoy Eris. He ships me to you every day like cargo then doesn’t want to spend much time with me. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’ve done.’

The healer pushed her hair away from her face as their horses followed the winding trail down a hill towards her home.

‘We all know the story of the war. We know you as the king slayer; being Eris’ wife is second place. You and the general of the Night Court. You were together?’

Her chest constricted at those three words. Were they together? No. Yes. Somewhere in the middle. When Cassian wanted her. Lust had driven them together, but Nesta had always known that there was no commonality between them beyond that. And Nesta knew that Cassian would always pick his family over her. The situations weren’t comparable, but Nesta could not help but believe that Eris would have put her first – at least before the change in him this last week.

‘We slept together a few times. No declarations of love. Unless you would class forcing me to march until I collapsed to be something romantic.’

Orla shook her head with distaste. ‘I should like to give him a piece of my mind. Do you love him?’

‘I think I wanted somebody to love me and he was the easiest option.’

‘They took your other options by trapping you in that house,’ Orla reminded her.

‘True, but it wasn’t love. He’d anger me on purpose, choose his family over me. We’d sleep with each other then never spend the night together. There was no care. He laughed when I fucking fell down the stairs and I still slept with him. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

Nesta watched the healer as she took the horses into their stables. Orla did everything efficiently. She was the steady captain while her sister was the storm.

Safera stood on her back legs to press her paws into Nesta’s stomach for a fuss. Nesta tipped her face forwards, letting the dog’s cold nose brush against hers. She ought not have favourites from the smokehounds, but Safera had become her girl. The others only listened to Eris, but Safera was beginning to listen to her commands. Even if she didn’t, Safera was softer than the other dogs, always seeking a fuss before she joined the hunt – and she was always the first back as if she had not wanted to stray too far.

‘I fear that I have meddled with good intentions.’ Orla blew out a long breath. Night was encroaching, stealing all the light from the sky. ‘You have probably realised that Eris hasn’t had the best life. Nesta, he wants to love somebody so badly and I was scared that he was giving you too much of himself when you weren’t ready for it.’

The tension that had been coiling in her body relieved itself. Her shoulders loosened. It wasn’t her. She wasn’t being paranoid – Eris’ behaviour had changed, but not because of something she had done. He had heeded his friend’s warning and backed off.

‘I’m sorry. I wanted you to have a chance to bloom alone, to realise how amazing you are without anybody’s shadow falling on you.’ The healer reached out to squeeze Nesta’s hand. ‘You are amazing. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Stop it,’ Nesta scoffed.

‘Have you given thought to perhaps being true partners?’

Heat rose in Nesta’s chest at the thought. Yes, she had. Eris was easy to be with. Although the short hair was to hurt the relationship with his mother, Nesta found Eris more attractive that way. There were times when she had almost told him to just share the bed with her.

‘You and Eris, you’re a great pair.’

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

#a court of tangled flames #neris #nesta x eris

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starlightrows · 1 day

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Hello and welcome back to Krax Watches. Tonight I am binge watching The Bad Batch Season 3, Episodes 10-14.

Episode 10 — Identity Crisis

• The little kids being imprisoned made me cry. Like immediately. I’m on my period okay? Leave me alone

• Why haven’t they killed Nala Se?

• I was hoping we would have more info on Emerie by now. Like is she really a clone? And if she is, is she a female clone of Jango or a clone of someone else?

• I know it’s already been established that Cad Bane is a known child abductor, I hate looking at it with my own two eyeballs every time. ITS LITERALLY A BABY

• I’m so glad Boba Fett murdered Cad Bane like 35 years later.

Episode 11 — Point of No Return

• The second she put down Lula and Tech’s nerd goggles, the ship was toast

• I hope someone kills Sid. Snitches get stitches and also fuck you

• Hunter really fell from like a hundred feet up and just swam his ass back to shore

• I hate that this season has made me go back on my hatred of Crosshair. I still think he’s a crusty dusty musty asshole. But god damn am I weak for sibling tropes, especially older brother tropes.

• You just know he is beating the ever loving shit out of himself for losing Omega to the Empire

• Mystery masked guy, that is definitely Tech, really just allowed Omega to be loose back there behind him while flying at the end there… I know this is still sort of a kids show and they would never actually do this… but Omega could totally bash him in the back of the head while he’s flying. Or garrot him or something. Maybe even yank off his helmet.

Episode 12 — Juggernaut

• Omega looking at Emerie… hello traitor

• Kinda forgot that Crosshair and Phee haven’t met yet

• Phee still refers to Tech as brown eyes, cute! But don’t all of them have brown eyes… ya know… because they’re clones

• …. What was Admiral Rampart arrested for again? I remember hating him… but I can’t remember anything else about him

• Phee is cool as fuck and I love her

• Rampart is racist… alienist… whatever, fuck that guy

• Wouldn’t it have been a wild connection if Rampart was in a work camp or work facility like the one Cassian was in?! Way harder to get him out, but would have been a cool connection

• Wooooooo! Jail break!

• Playing chicken with a tank!

• Lmao throwing Rampart like a sack of potatoes

• I kind of can’t figure out what it is they are trying to accomplish with Omega and the other high M count kiddos. Maybe I’m just dense

Episode 13 — Into the Breach

• It makes me intensely sad thinking about the fact that Omega has spent the majority of her little life in captivity

• They’re making the children take care of the literal baby

• Echo my boy! You’ve returned!

• I like how Omegas legs are almost too big to fit under the table, she’s groaning up 😫

• She’s so devious and crafty, I love Omega

• They stripped the paint off their armor. Why does that feel so foreboding???

• Rampart is cranky because he hasn’t gotten dick in months, damn shame

• Even with the paint stripped off their armor, they look wildly out of place

• Wrecker playing is playing Candy Crush, scrolling space Tumblr, swiping on galactic Hinge, reading fanfic on space AO3

• I want to cuddle that owl baby so bad

• I love bitchy little R2 units

• Crosshair saying, Relax, Echo’s on it, makes me emotional

• Literally can’t believe that fucking worked

Episode 14 — Flash Strike

• Howmst the fuck did they know that it was Clone Force 99 and Rampart? They didn’t get caught by anyone

• I feel like Wrecker hasn’t gotten to do anything or have any personality this season :/ he’s kinda just there

• This bitch with the bangs is going to be an ongoing problem. I hope the children kick her shins until she croaks or something

• Lamo what does Rampart sound like that?!

• Echo really needs to get a prosthetic hand at some point his little screwdriver nub is a dead give away

• Did they leave Batcher on Pabu? I didn’t realize she was missing until now

• Rampart have ZERO self preservation skills. There is almost nothing preventing the batch from killing him

• Inventory droids always have a stick up their ass

• Thanks for the hand! Oh my god 😂 I was right!!

• Please let the monster eat Rampart, PLEASE let the monster eat Rampart. PLEASEEEEEEE

• What the fuuuuuck? I forgot about the Zillo Beast

• I was such an anxious child. I would have been so worried about Omega I would have thrown up

• Omega’s poker face is iconic!

• Let’s go Emerie! You have exactly one opportunity to not fuck this up

The final episode next week is going to be chaotic as fuck. I have no idea what to expect. I feel like there are waaay too many loose ends to tie up. Which further leads me to believe that there’s going to be another spin off about Omega or about Rex or something.

#Krax Chats #The Bad Batch #TBB #tbb spoilers

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shadowsxgwynriel · 1 year

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Solstice Surprise

A Gwynriel one shot (NSFW) 🌶

Written for @sunshinebingo—I didn’t hold back on the smut 😌 Enjoy! 😉 I had a lot of fun doing this! Thanks @acotargiftexchange for putting this together!

Read it on AO3

Warning: 🔞 This contains sexual content and is intended for 18+ only! 🌶

Content: Bondage, Spanking, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, etc.

***•***

“I’m here, I’m here!” Gwyn announced, slightly out of breath, as she entered the private library. “The service ran longer than I expected.”

Nesta looked up from the book she was reading. Emerie was in the chair next to her with a half eaten piece of pistachio cake resting in her lap.

They greeted one another with a custom Happy Solstice, despite already saying it earlier in the day when they exchanged their gifts.

Gwyn aimed for the table that the House had already filled with different types of desserts. She picked up a chocolate truffle and popped it into her mouth, savoring the delicious dark chocolate. “Where’s Cassian?” she asked around the mouthful of goodness.

Nesta scoffed, an amused look on her face as she said, “Cassian is over there.” She gestured vaguely at the corner of the room. “He passed out not too long ago.”

Gwyn raised an eyebrow. “From too much sex?” she inquired with a teasing smile.

Emerie cackled, causing Nesta to roll her eyes. “On ale. He had too much to drink.”

Gwyn chortled in disbelief, turning to take a look. Sure enough, the Illyrian general was slumped in a leather chair, snoring loudly. His wings were splayed over the back of the chair, there was a nearly empty bottle of ale cradled in his arms, and . . . a black cat was cuddled against his chest.

“Uh, is that a cat?”

Nesta nodded, offering no further explanation. And if Gwyn wasn’t mistaken, she could have sworn Nesta was blushing.

Emerie, however, had no problem explaining the bizarre situation to her. Rather delightfully. “Cassian kept saying be wanted to pet the pussy, so the House was nice enough to conjure him up one.”

“That drunk idiot talks too much,” Nesta, who was in fact blushing, mumbled under her breath.

“And after only three cups of ale,” Emerie said thoughtfully.

Gwyn shook her head. “Shouldn’t he have a better tolerance by now? Isn’t he like six hundred years old?”

“Gwyn, you should have more sympathy for your elders,” Emerie said in mock solemn.

Gwyn pretended to be properly chastised. “You’re right. Perhaps I can find something in the library that talks about what old Illyrians can do to improve their endurance.”

Emerie nodded in agreement, eyes alight with laughter.

Nesta flipped them both off, but didn’t bother to hide her smirk as she looked at her mate. “Believe me, Cassian doesn’t have any problems with his endurance—at least not where it counts.” She raised an eyebrow in Gwyn’s direction. “And isn’t Azriel older than Cassian?”

Emerie couldn’t contain herself and was soon doubled over in a fit of hysterics.

Gwyn stuck her tongue out at them.

Speaking of Azriel.

“Where is my mate? Is he also passed out drunk somewhere?” This was their first Winter Solstice together as mates, but she figured he was still spending time with Rhys and his family. Gwyn vaguely remembered Azriel waking her with a kiss goodbye. She had mumbled something in response before pulling the covers over her face.

Gwyn wasn’t exactly a fan of mornings.

“He’s waiting for you in the room,” Nesta told her.

Gwyn blinked. “Why?”

Emerie smirked, as if she knew a secret. “According to a very drunk Cassian, he has a special surprise waiting for you.” She snickered. Clearly she was enjoying herself. “And I suppose he also has his cock waiting for you.”

Gwyn could feel her face flush, still she smiled and asked pleasantly, “How’s Mor doing?”

Now it was Emerie who blushed, causing Nesta to break out in laughter. She wasn’t sure what was going on between Emerie and Mor, just that Emerie always blushed and got a little shy whenever anyone mentioned her.

Emerie grumbled, stuffing her mouth with some cake.

“So,” Nesta started. “How is Az in the bedroom? I’ve always been curious to know if the rumors were true.”

“Rumors?” Gwyn asked, though she could figure just what those rumors were about. Especially since she had firsthand experience to how Azriel was when it came to sex. Just the thought of it made her throb in anticipation.

“That he’s a freak—and to be honest, he definitely gives off that aura,” Emerie said, chuckling.

Gwyn only smiled. She refrained from telling them that Azriel was indeed a freak. But then, so was she.

“You really won’t tell us?” Nesta asked.

Her smile grew bigger and she shook her head. “Nope,” she said happily.

Emerie booed, waving her fork at her. Gwyn laughed and told them good night before leaving to go find her mate.

She found him in the bathroom, the shadows clearly warning him of her approach, since he was standing in front of a fully filled tub, smoke still steaming from the water. There were rose petals floating in the clear water and dozens of candles surrounded the bathtub.

There was also a chair next to the bath, and on it was a Sellyn Drake book.

“Happy Solstice,” Azriel said.

***•***

His shadows started to sing in response to the beautiful melody strumming from the mating bond. Ours, they whispered to him, as if he had forgotten.

Her big teal eyes were bright with wonder. He enjoyed seeing that look on her beautiful face. “Happy Solstice,” Gwyn said. One of his shadows darted out to curl around her ear, and she smiled as if it told her a secret.

“This is so beautiful.” She directed that lovely smile at him. “You are so beautiful, Azriel Shadowsinger.”

Azriel bowed his head, slightly embarrassed at the compliment. “Technically, the House did all of the work. I just told it what I wanted.”

A bowl of chocolate covered strawberries appeared next to the tub, and Azriel had a sense that the House appreciated it’s contribution being acknowledged.

Gwyn walked over and grabbed his right hand. She kissed the rough and scarred skin before holding it to her chest. Azriel blushed, his shadows singing and dancing around him at her touch. “Thank you for this,” she said.

He nodded, still blushing. “You should get in before the water gets cold.”

Gwyn smiled and quickly took her clothes off. His mate was a sight to behold as she stood there completely naked, her beautiful body illuminated by the candlelight, hair shining like molten metal.

She climbed into the bath, his cock twitching at the sight of her plump ass. She threw him a saucy grin over her shoulder and sunk into the depths of the water. “Why don’t you join me?”

Normally, Azriel wouldn’t have needed to be asked twice. But right now was supposed to be about Gwyn. He really wanted to pamper her, because she deserved it.

“Next time,” he said. He picked up the book and took a seat.

She gave him a confused look.

He held up the book. “I’m going to read to you while you relax,” he explained. It was a book that Emerie assured him Gwyn would like.

Gwyn eyed the cover. Her lips twitched. “Emerie recommended that one to you?”

“She did.”

“Okay, Shadowsinger.” She relaxed in the water, eating a strawberry with a soft little moan that made his cock ache. “Read to me.”

Azriel shifted in the chair and started to read. As he read chapter after chapter, he realized something—Emerie had given him what had to be the most sex filled book ever.

“Is something wrong?” Gwyn asked, clear amusement in her voice.

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the pages. “No.”

“Hmm.” He heard sploshing sounds and looked up to see Gwyn gently caressing her erect nipples. She quirked her lips when she met his gaze.

The little Valkyrie loved to drive him crazy.

He stifled a groan as her hand drifted into the water, presumably between her legs. The tantalizing aroma that was drifting from her pussy, made his cock and balls throb with need. His mouth watered for a taste, her scent nearly enough to make him feral. Ours, his shadows whispered to him.

Gwyn suddenly stood up, water cascading down her beautiful body. With deliberate movements, starting at those luscious breasts, she slowly slid her hand down her toned stomach, stopping at the apex of her thighs.

Azriel watched, completely fixated, as her slender fingers rubbed her clit before plunging inside. She fingered herself in front of him for a few minutes and then she withdrew her hand, holding it up and allowing him to see the wetness now coating her fingers. “Want a taste?” she asked with an enticing smile.

He didn’t even remember moving, but somehow he was now standing next to the tub. Wordlessly, he took her hand and sucked the wetness from her fingertips.

Azriel dropped to his knees and reached for her hips, prepared to taste her sweet honey from the source. He needed to have more on his tongue, flooding his mouth.

His tongue darted out, teasing her clit.

Gwyn gasped, reaching down and stilling his head. “Wait,” she said breathlessly.

He glanced up at her. “You want to stop?”

She shook her head. “No . . . I want to play.” Pure mischief was reflected in her eyes. “And I want to be in charge.”

Azriel smirked. His Gwyneth was adventurous when it came to sex, and he was more than happy to please her every need.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But I get to be in charge after.”

She shivered, teal eyes darkening with lust and anticipation. “Deal.”

***•***

“Where do you want me?” Azriel asked, standing next to the bed, deliciously naked, wings arched and stunning. Gwyn took a moment to admire her mate—his sinewy muscles, his abs, his glorious cock.

He was a thing of beauty.

“On the bed,” Gwyn told him. “I think I want you to eat my pussy first.”

His hazel eyes flashed with heat and he looked more than ready to devour her. He got on the bed and awaited her further instructions. She was still in awe, even after countless times, that this strong Illyrian warrior was willing to follow her commands. It made her feel powerful and seen.

She grabbed a few things and walked over to the bed. “Is this okay?” she asked him, holding up her items.

“Fuck yes.”

Gwyn smiled. “Kiss me first.”

He surged forward and kissed her. She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in. Their tongues met and twirled around together in a sensual dance, and Azriel angled her head back to kiss her even deeper, claiming her just as she was claiming him.

Azriel ended the kiss, leaving her breathless. He touched his lips softly to hers once more before pulling away.

“Shall we?” Gwyn said, holding up a red silk ribbon. Azriel gave her a smirk and turned so she could tie the material around his eyes. “Lay on your back,” she ordered him, and he immediately obliged her. Taking the rope, she secured both his hands to the headboard. She ran a finger over the membrane of his wings, smiling when he shivered.

She took a second to admire the sight of him bound and naked for her enjoyment, then she crawled up next to his head. “I’m going to ride your face,” Gwyn informed him, moving to straddle him.

“Fuck,” Azriel growled. “you smell like honey.” He licked his lips, as if eager for a taste.

Gwyn lowered herself onto his waiting mouth, and Azriel sucked her clit between his lips. She moaned and gripped his hair in both hands, arching her back and rolling her hips against his mouth.

He worked her with a combination of tongue, teeth, and lips, making her body shake with immense pleasure. She was so close, too close.

But she wasn’t ready to come just yet. Gwyn wanted to come while riding his cock.

She rolled off his face, ignoring Azriel’s sounds of protest, and aligned herself with him. She teased the tip of his cock with her pussy, coating it in her juices.

“Gwyneth,” Azriel groaned, his mouth and chin wet from her. “Fuck me.”

Gwyn lowered herself onto his thick length, loving the slight stretch of pain from his cock. Her ass touched his pelvis, then she slowly lifted up. She kept this slow rhythm for a few minutes until Azriel bucked his hips. “Gods, Gwyneth. Faster.”

“Say please,” she demanded. Gwyn loved to tease him to the point of madness, until he couldn’t take anymore and snapped.

“Fuck. Please, Gwyn. Fuck me.”

She rode him faster, adjusting her hips so his cock could hit the perfect spot inside of her. Azriel met her frantic pace, sending jolts of pleasure through her entire body.

His shadows swirled around her erect nipples teasingly. Ours, they softly whispered in her ear. The mating bond sang, thrumming the thread between their souls, and it was too much for Gwyn.

Her hips jerked sporadically as she came. She moaned loudly, biting her lip at the rush of unbridled pleasure. “Azriel!”

He moaned as she tightened around him, close to release himself. But right when he was about to cum, Gwyn lifted off of him.

“Gwyn!” he snarled, straining against the rope. “I was right there!”

“You can cum when I say you can,” Gwyn replied. “And I want to keep playing with you.”

His cock was pulsing angrily, dripping in her juices. Beads of his cum leaked from the tip, making her mouth water for a taste.

She reached up and took off his blindfold. “Watch me suck your cock.”

“You’re killing me,” Azriel groaned.

Gwyn smiled sweetly and kissed down his chest. His cock jerked, leaking even more cum. Gwyn took him into her mouth. “Fuck,” he moaned when she started sucking him.

Gwyn relaxed her throat and took his cock deep, allowing herself to gag, saliva dripping down to his balls. Azriel loved it when she chocked on him a bit.

“I’m close,” he warned her. Not that it was necessary. She had felt his cock start to swell and twitch.

She pulled away. “Not yet.”

“Gods,” Azriel groaned, panting heavily. “When? This is torture.”

She simply said, “Soon.” And went back to sucking him.

He hissed, straining against the rope, and she knew it was just a matter of time before he broke free. Gwyn couldn’t wait. She enjoyed being in control, but she also loved driving Azriel insane with lust. She loved when he took control back, not only because she trusted him with her life and body, but also because it meant unimaginable pleasure for her.

Her hand cupped his spit soaked balls, rolling and tugging them in unison with her sucking. She took his cock to the back of her throat, eyes watering as she spluttered.

Snap!

Gwyn smiled.

Azriel had broken free.

“Do you like sucking my cock like a little tease?”

Gwyn hummed, sucking him harder. She slid her fingers between her legs and circled her clit, trying to calm the fire raging through her body.

He groaned. “Your pussy is fucking soaked, isn’t it?”

It was. Sucking his cock always drove her wild.

“Don’t cum.”

Aching and needing release, Gwyn was very tempted to ignore him. But ultimately, she withdrew her hand and focused on his thick length instead.

“I’m going to cum.” He warned, hands tangling in her hair. “Let me fuck that sweet throat like a good girl.” She moaned and relaxed her throat, allowing him to fuck her face.

She swallowed around the head of his cock and that was all it took for him to explode into her mouth with a curse. The first spurt of cum went straight down her throat, and she had to pull back a little to avoid choking. Some of it spilled down her chin.

“Swallow it all. Every. Fucking. Drop,” Azriel said, making her throb between the legs. She eagerly swallowed every drop he had to give, until he pulled out of her mouth—still hard. He jerked his cock and managed to squeeze out a few drops of cum onto her breasts. Gwyn rubbed it in, wanting his scent on her in every way, and Azriel watched with heated eyes.

“Show me.” She stuck out her tongue. Azriel wiped away the traces of cum from her chin and she sucked his thumb clean. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

Gwyn smiled. “And you tasted so good.” He blushed, which she found to be adorable, how shy this beautiful male could be at times.

His demeanor suddenly changed. Any traces of shyness were gone. “On your back,” he commanded. “It’s my turn.”

From the look in his eyes, she knew this was about to be deliciously torturous. And she couldn’t wait.

***•***

“What’s your safe word?” Azriel asked as he tied her legs to the bedposts. He left her hands free. For now.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, no doubt thinking they were beyond this, but Azriel took her comfort seriously. “Pegasus.”

He nodded. “Good.” He licked the inside of her sweet thighs. “Keep your hands on the headboard. If you move them, I’ll stop.”

That was all the warning he gave before engulfing her pussy into his mouth.

Gwyn’s honey taste filled his tastebuds, leaving him ravenous for more. He loved to eat her sweet pussy. Sometimes he would lick her for hours until it felt like his tongue was going to fall off.

She thrashed and moaned, hands gripping the headboard. Azriel held her hips down and savagely ate her out. Her juices were dripping down her ass, his chin, leaving a mess on the sheets. He flicked her clit rapidly with his tongue, nipped it gently with his teeth, and suctioned his lips around it, sucking hard.

Gwyn shot off the bed, coming hard with a gush into his mouth. Azriel swallowed it all. Her sweet nectar was like an aphrodisiac and turned him into an insatiable beast, desperate to taste even more of her down his throat. He spread her pussy and continued to torture her clit with his tongue. She came again, body twisting and twitching.

When she started to relax, he sat up and plunged two fingers into her still clenching pussy. His thumb rubbed her sensitive clit, and he hooked his fingers, hitting a spot that had her nearly bucking his hand lose.

“It’s too much,” she moaned.

“Cum for me love,” Azriel coaxed. Her eyes were hazy, hair wild, skin flushed. Fuck, she was beautiful. And all his. Ours, the shadows corrected him, but Azriel chose to ignore them.

He sped up his fingers, hitting that spot inside of her repeatedly. “Rub your nipples,” he ordered her. She did so with shaky hands, twisting and plucking her hard little nipples.

“Cum for me.” Her legs started to shake, and Azriel rubbed inside of her hard and fast, pinching her swollen clit with his free hand, hard enough to set her off.

Gwyn screamed hoarsely, arching her back, coming so hard that she almost pushed his fingers out. Azriel kept the firm rhythm inside of her, and Gwyn gushed like a waterfall, splattering his cock, thighs, lower abs, and hands in her juices.

He untied her legs, softly caressing the inside of her thighs. “Roll over onto your knees.”

“You’re insatiable,” she complained, like it was a nuisance. And yet, she still flipped over and got on her knees.

“Hands behind your back.” She complied. He bound her hands with the silk and helped lower her upper body to the bed, until only her ass was in the air.

He admired the view of her beautiful ass for a moment, then he slapped it with his palm.

“Yes,” Gwyn moaned. She wiggled her bottom. “Do it again.”

He smacked her ass again and again, alternating sides. Her juices were leaking down her thighs. Azriel was almost positive that Gwyn could cum just from getting spanked. And while he planned to test that theory one day soon, right now he really needed to fuck her.

But first—he hungered for another taste. He bent down and swiped his tongue through her creamy slit. Azriel devoured her, thrusting his tongue into her wet heat, fingers strumming her clit. He played her body like an instrument and tasted and feasted, until she exploded onto his tongue with a gasping moan.

Azriel sat back and drove into her. He tried to have some restraint. But every time he sank deep into her, restraint didn’t exist. Especially not when Gwyn was currently rolling her ass against him like a seductress.

He was a male completely consumed by his mate. Gwyn. Even her name resonated to his core, like a beautiful song.

He stroked her cunt with the palm of his hand, thrusting hard, fast, and deep inside of her.

“Azriel, oh Gods.” Gwyn thrashed around on the bed, groaning as she came. She jerked her hips, scrambling to get his hand away from her clit.

Her body went limp and Gwyn collapsed onto the bed, gasping for air. “I’m done. I yield to your sexual prowess for tonight.”

Azriel patted her ass. “Don’t quit on me now, Gwyneth.” He could admit that he was desperate to continue worshiping her body. His cock was still hard and his balls were aching for a release, but more than that, he just really loved to drive Gwyn wild with pleasure.

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Feel free to keep fucking me. Just don’t expect me to cum again. I don’t think my body can handle another orgasm.”

“You’ll cum again,” he said confidently, untying her hands.

She rolled over onto her back and narrowed her eyes up at him. “Are you trying to kill me?” But he saw the anticipation gleaming in her eyes. She loved this just as much as he did.

He smirked and rubbed himself over her drenched lips, smearing her cream all over his cock and balls. He grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, thrusting deep into her.

Gwyn was dripping wet and the sound of him pounding into her pussy filled the room. He pinched her clit between his fingers, rolling the swollen bud swiftly, determined to make her cum with him.

“You feel so fucking good,” Azriel rasped. “Who’s pussy is this?“

Her pupils dilated, but she lifted her chin in defiance. “Mine.”

He lightly smacked her clit. “Wrong answer. Who’s is it?“

“Mine.” He gave her clit another smack, harder this time. She bucked her hips, not to get away from his hand, but to get closer. His dirty girl liked a bit of pain.

Azriel stopped moving his hips and took his hand away from her throbbing cunt. He had to stop himself from smiling when she mewled. “No! Keep going,” she panted. Her cheeks were flushed with arousal.

“You know what I want to hear.”

She let out a huff of frustration, then absolute mischief flashed in her teal eyes. She tightened her legs around his waist and clenched her inner muscles. Azriel groaned at the tightness that strangled his cock. Fuck, she knew how to drive him crazy.

“Who does this cock belong to?” Gwyn purred.

“You,” he readily replied. “Every part of me belongs to you. My cock, my body, my heart.” His shadow’s darkened, prompting him to add, “Even my shadows.”

Gwyn smiled and looped her arms around his neck. She kissed him. “I’m yours. Every part of me—including my pussy.” She nipped at his bottom lip. “Now fuck me.”

So he did.

Azriel fucked her hard. He slipped his hand between them, rubbing her clit fast and hard. Gwyn clawed at his back. The headboard slammed into the wall with the force of his thrusts, the wood framing on the verge of breaking.

She moaned and grabbed his ass, urging him to go faster. He rotated his hips so that he could hit that sweet spot inside of her. He worked her clit harder, rolling the engorged bud with a firm swiftness that sent her over the edge. Her pussy spasmed repeatedly around his length, and she let out a guttural moan that made his balls throb.

Azriel kept his ruthless pace, fucking her into yet another orgasm. Gwyn cried out weakly as she came and bit down on his shoulder, wetness soaking his cock and dripping down his balls. The sting of pain from her teeth and the feeling of her pussy clenching tight around his cock, had him exploding deep inside of her.

Azriel roared, pounding into her so hard that she had another small orgasm. He distantly heard the sound of something breaking, but ignored it.

His body jerked with a final pulse of cum, his balls finally drained dry. He dropped her legs to the bed and collapsed on top of Gwyn, trying to get air back into his starved lungs. “Gods,” he gasped, resting his face in the crook of her shoulder.

Gwyn mumbled in agreement, eyes closed and face exhausted. He smiled and kissed her neck, slowly pulling out.

He watched his cum leak out of her, and he couldn’t help himself—he pushed it back in. There was a part of him, a primal instinct, that wanted to keep filling her with his cum until he got her pregnant. He could almost picture it, her belly round with his child, round with twins—two little girls with her freckles and stunning teal eyes. Gwyn, though, had expressed her desire to have a son that looked just like him. A little Shadowsinger, is what she had said.

But he had a feeling that whenever they did start a family, they would both get what they wanted.

“You still with me?” Azriel teased.

“Hmm.” She opened one eye. “But I think we broke the bed.”

He looked up, startled. The headboard was indeed broken.

Azriel burst out in laughter and Gwyn joined him, the shadows dancing at the sound of their delight.

***•***

An hour later, Gwyn was cuddled up to Azriel, the shadows sleeping soundly. She was filled with contentment.

Gwyn was starting to doze off, but suddenly sat up with a gasp. “Oh no!”

“What’s wrong?” Azriel asked. He looked around as if to see what had upset her. Even the shadows had woken, swirling around as if waiting to strike.

“We forgot to exchange gifts!” Gwyn whined.

Azriel gave an exasperated sigh, and even the shadows seemed to be perplexed by her. One of them danced up to her ear and softly whispered, Crazy. Gwyn rolled her eyes and waved it off with a smile.

“This couldn’t wait until the morning?”

Her eyes widened and she frantically shook her head. “What? No! It has to be tonight. It’s a tradition, and you can’t break a tradition!”

Azriel laughed and sat up as well.

Three gifts popped up on the bed, courtesy of the House. Gwyn handed Azriel one of her gifts first, and watched him open it. He turned it over into his palm. A locket with a silver chain fell into his hand—inside was a picture of Gwyn that she had asked Feyre to paint for her.

“Do you like it?” she asked him. “I have a matching one, but mine has a picture of you instead, obviously. I asked Feyre to paint us. And I asked Nesta to make a wish on them, like she did our friendship bracelets, so that way we can find each other no matter what.“

“I’ll wear this like armor,” he promised with a soft smile.

Gwyn handed him another parcel and watched a bit nervously as he opened it. He pulled out the leather bound book and read the title with a slightly puzzled look.

“It’s a collection of children’s fables,” Gwyn explained. “A lot of them are short stories from other courts, and some are from the other priestesses. There are a few mortal tales that Nesta helped with.” She blushed, worrying about what he must be thinking. Was it too childish? “I also included some stories that Catrin and I used to make up. I just . . . I figured that maybe you weren’t able to read much as a child and so I—“ Azriel cut her off with a kiss, which was a good thing since she had been rambling.

He gingerly ran his fingers over the leather, as if he feared breaking it. Gwyn had to blink back tears as Azriel looked at her, hazel eyes suspiciously bright. “I don’t know what to say,” he said, appearing like a lost child. The same child that she desperately wished she could go back in time and protect from the world.

Gwyn smiled brightly, not wanting to see him sad. “You can say thank you and give me my present?“ she teased, hoping to get a smile or a laugh.

He rewarded her with a hug instead. She inhaled his scent, allowing it to fill her with warmth. “Thank you for this. I’ll cherish every story knowing that they came from you.”

“I had a lot of people pitch in to help me with it, so I can’t take all the credit . . . but I’m glad you like it.”

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her arched ear, lingering long enough to make her shiver.

Azriel smiled knowingly and handed her his gift. She eagerly tore it open, making him chuckle. Inside of the box was a dagger. Smaller in size than his own, but still deadly. A brilliant blue gem was embedded in the handle, and the blade was sharp and serrated.

“Now you have your own dagger to sleep with,” Azriel joked.

Gwyn set it down on the dresser so she could hug him. “I already sleep with my very own dagger. You.” His face flushed red and she kissed him loudly on the cheek. She gave him a smile. “I know exactly what to call it.”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Silver Majesty.”

Azriel simultaneously chuckled and winced at the name, but Gwyn decided to ignore that. It was a good name after all. “Isn’t that what you said you would name your sword? Should I have gotten you a sword instead?”

She shrugged. “There’s always next year.”

His lips twitched, amusement in his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

***•***

Azriel jumped out of bed with a curse. He nearly tripped over his feet as he hurried to get dress.

Gwyn sat up, hair wild from sleep, her freckled nose scrunched adorably. “Wha—where are you going?“ she asked, still sounding half asleep.

He stopped what he was doing and glanced down. The sheet had fallen to her stomach, revealing her lush breasts and pink nipples. If it wouldn’t have made him late, he would’ve crawled under those covers and licked her pussy until she passed out.

Instead, Azriel had to settle for giving her a quick kiss on the lips. “Annual snowball fight.”

She blinked and then burst out in laughter. “I thought Nesta was joking when she told me about the snowball fight! I seriously can’t picture three big, strong warriors having a snowball fight every year.”

Azriel blushed because he supposed it did sound pretty childish. Though Gwyn looked mostly intrigued.

“Do you win a lot?”

He grinned. Of course his competitive female would want to know that. “More than Cassian.”

“Well that’s good to know.”

“I plan on winning this year.” He had already been going over countless strategies with his shadows for months now.

“I want to have a snowball fight,” Gwyn said with a pout. She grumbled about having to start a tradition with Emerie and Nesta.

Azriel shuddered at the very thought of what a Valkyrie tradition might include.

Gwyn gave him a sleepy little smile, eyelids drooping. “Good luck with your snowball fight,” she mumbled.

He put on his shoes and when he was done he noticed that she had fallen back asleep.

He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and kissed her the top of her head, inhaling her sweet scent. One of his shadows darted down to twirl around a lock of her hair before returning to him.

After allowing himself one last look at her sleeping form, he departed.

Azriel had a snowball fight to win.

***•***

The next day, Gwyn entered the bedroom and was met with an . . . astonishing sight.

Azriel stood in the middle of the room, but that wasn’t what left her so befuddled. It was the fact that the room was covered in a brilliant white powder. Snow. There was snow on every surface and falling from the ceiling in immeasurable amounts.

Gwyn stuck out a hand, catching a snowflake in her palm. She watched it melt. As she caught a few more, she asked, “Why is it snowing inside the room?”

“You said you wanted to have a snowball fight,” Azriel replied with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

She blinked slowly, processing what he said, and then beamed at him happily. “Really? We’re going to have a snowball fight?“

He shot her a cocky grin. “Yes, but be prepared to lose. I already won one snowball fight.”

Gwyn arched an eyebrow, inching her way to a nearby table. “Am I supposed to be scared, Shadowsinger?”

He still had that stupid, cocky smile on his face, and Gwyn really wanted to knock it off.

“You should be. But don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you—“

A snowball that Gwyn had silently formed behind her back, smacked him right in the face, cutting off his words. He staggered back a step, laughing ominously.

Gwyn yelped and barely ducked when Azriel tossed a snowball of his own in her direction. And then another, followed by yet another. It seemed that Azriel could make snowballs impossibly fast.

“I would like a pile of snowballs, please,” she said, trying and failing to dodge all of Azriel’s attacks. Gwyn nearly sighed in relief when a stack bigger than herself appeared.

She returned fire.

They both managed to get each other a good amount of times, but even Gwyn had to admit that Azriel was way more skilled than her. He had years and years of practice, and she was sure that he was holding back a little . . . okay, maybe a lot.

“Do you give?” Azriel taunted.

Gwyn narrowed her eyes, somehow resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him. “Never.”

He lunged forward in the blink of an eye and grabbed her around the waist. Gwyn squealed when he started to tickle her.

Gwyn was laughing so hard that tears were streaming down her face. “Let go of me, you sadistic bat!” she wheezed.

Azriel chuckled darkly. “Do you admit defeat?”

“No!” He continued to tickle her. “Okay, okay! You win! I surrender!”

When her laughter died down, Gwyn looked at Azriel and glared. “You play dirty,” she accused.

Azriel grinned and took her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He kissed her softly and sweetly. “I play to win,” he whispered against her lips.

Before Gwyn could reply, the snow falling around them suddenly took the form of what appeared to be the House’s version of Starfall. The room was filled with blue and green and white light, the mock stars descending over them like beautiful rain.

Splatters of fake stars landed on them, glowing bright, and Gwyn smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. Azriel, still holding her face, gently caressed her jaw with his thumbs, and gave her a boyish smile in return.

Standing in their very own Starfall, in the arms of her mate, her chest was full and glowing.

And Gwyn was utterly content.

“I love you, Shadowsinger.”

“And I love you, Priestess.”

His shadows danced around them, singing a beautiful melody in harmony with the bond between them. It was a song that would never stop.

Happy Holidays!

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