#im high i would also need to voice train

[cryptidiopathic]

Am I high or could I be stealth with the right pair of shoes

[vaugarde]

sometimes i think abt that youtuber that said diane nguyen was a dull character in seasons 1-4 of bojack because “shes the character that is the hardest to relate to in the cast because she’s married to a sitcom actor and is a popular ghostwriter, which isnt something many people can say, so to fix her, they needed to let her get divorced and get into a worse financial situation ”

as opposed to the actual sitcom star she married who got the job by wandering into a studio, apparently,

[murdrdocs]

saber tooth | f. odair

description. just two days out from the Games, your mentor and best friend, finnick odair, comes to your room late at night in a mutual fit of insomnia to fulfill your (potentially) dying wish 

includes. SMUT 16+, fem!reader, oral f!receiving, fingering, loss of virginity sans p in v, canon-complicit angst, mentions of finnick’s trafficking, best friends to lovers, reader’s a tribute, finnick’s her mentor, extremely brief misunderstandings, soft dom finnick, pleasure dom finnick, brief mention of drug use (one line), finnick and annie were never together but he mentored her, he rlly cares abt r :((, giggly sex (sometimes), throw away line abt lack of body hair but i rlly like body hair

a/n: whaddup whaddup! this started as a blurb but it um ,,, clearly expanded. there’s no p in v simply bc im so tired rn however i would like to continue this in the future if my mind would allow it :) also the title has nothing to do with the fic i was just listening to easily by chuck inglish

word count: 4k+ 

part 2

A week of anticipation, festivities, and celebration for the Capitol, was a week of anxiety, tears muffled into pillows, and wishing to be somewhere else for you. 

The week leading up to the 72nd Hunger Games. 

The Reaping, Opening Ceremony, and the three days of training that followed were mostly a blur. Your body picked up on the techniques you would need to survive, and with the help of Finnick, you’d managed to commit them to memory. You remembered the way you’d been trained to sit and talk and the jokes you should slip into conversation with Caesar tomorrow night. 

All of their training was working, and Finnick had told you that you had a high chance of making it out of that area. A high chance. Nothing was guaranteed at this point in your life. Which is why you needed to do a few final things. 

The door to your bedroom slides open. You lift your head from the pillow and squint. There’s a little light coming from the hallway, and it backlit the figure. But even without it, you would know who was coming to see you. The only person who’d been coming to see you since the arrival at the Tribute Center. 

“Hey, Finn,” you mumble, resting your head back against the pillow that’s always cool. 

Finnick takes a few steps into your room, stopping to flick a switch that only turns on the lamps beside your bed, and the two ambient ones in the corners. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is raspy, as if he’s tired, but not to the point of already greeting sleep. It’s a little later than it should be, you were recommended to have gone to sleep two hours ago but you couldn’t. There was too much going on in your head, too many unsaid words and undone actions. You couldn’t sleep with your consciousness this awake. 

Finnick voices the matter. “You can’t sleep, can you?” 

You shake your head, deciding to sit up a little, your bare lower half still secure underneath the thick comforter. Your room was always cold, and the silk sheets mirrored the temperature. Physically, you were the most comfortable you’d ever been, wearing the softest cotton undergarments, and a silk button up nightshirt, your toes warm beneath fuzzy socks. But the weight on your mind was the complete opposite. 

With the way Finnick looks at your face, he can tell just how exhausted you are. 

“Want something to help with that?” He asks as he sits at the edge of the bed, close but entirely too far from you. “A drink? Pills? The Capitol has it all, you know.” The way he says it is the opposite of marveling, the words laced with annoyance and frustration. His tone prompts a small smile from you. 

“‘M okay. I trust my body to do what it’s supposed to.” Finnick’s head is turned down, but you see the way the corner of his lip curls up. 

He lifts his head to fully smile at you, one of sympathy and pity and sadness. His hand reaches out and his palm rests over the outline of your shin. Far too many layers are between the bare skin on both of you, but you don’t say so. You just give Finnick an equally sad smile, expressing your dismay for your situation, and you begin to pick at your nails in your lap. 

“What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Finnick shakes his head. “No such luck for me either.” He shrugs as if he’s used to it and you remember that he’s been in this position too. Just a few years ago, a young boy, your best friend, was sitting in this bed, with similar thoughts weighing on his mind. And now his best friend was in that position. 

You push the sheets back, exposing the beginnings of the skin on your thigh, and you pat the space beside you. “C’mon,” you encourage, not ceasing your patting until Finnick scoffs and slides his slippers off, crawling up to slip under the covers with you. 

The bed is larger than you’d ever seen, something your escort called a ‘bed fit for a king’, but Finnick chooses to sit right beside you, the heat of his body warming yours. 

“We could watch something. What plays on the television in the Capitol?” Finnick’s sitting so close to you that you can feel him shrug. Whenever you reach over to the bedside table, pulling the drawer open to grab the remote, you come back to sit even closer to him, where your arms are pressed flush against each other. 

“Mostly shows about the lives of celebrities here.” 

You gasp, turning to face him. “Is that rumor about you appearing on some reality show true?” Finnick’s ears redden and that’s enough confirmation that you need. Your head throws back with a hearty laugh, and you click on the TV with hopes of finding an episode. 

Finnick sits quietly beside you as you click through the channels, reading the titles and watching maybe a second or two of content before you decide to try the next thing. When you’ve gone through most channels, you land on the one that will play the Games. 

He says your name, as a warning perhaps, but you click it anyway, seeing that they’re talking about you. 

“Now the odds of this one making it out are pretty high. She’s pretty, smart, and trained by the Finnick Odair,” a clip of you and Finnick appears, one that must’ve been taken backstage during the Opening Ceremony. He’s standing close to you, crouched down just enough to meet your eye level. You’re obviously nervous, and he’s obviously attempting to soothe those nerves, cracking jokes with a hand held to your heart, both of yours over it.  “The Capitol’s Prince.” The announcer pronounces those words clearly, enunciated, making sure every late night viewer understands Finnick’s alternate title. 

Clips of Finnick throughout the years show and you grow silent, watching how he commands a room better than you ever could. 

“If she were to make it out, I’m sure she could become the Capitol’s Princess, right?” The announcer smiles just as the remote is snatched from your hands and the TV is clicked off, ridding the bedroom of the colorful hues and leaving you and Finnick with the yellow light from your lamps. 

“Why did you–?” Finnick’s interrupting. He’s thrown the remote to the side of him and he’s turned to face you. 

“I want you to make it out of the Games, I really do.” You nod, watching the way his chest rises and falls with breaths that fill the hesitant silence. “But, I don’t want what happened to me to happen to you.” 

“What do you mean? You don’t want me to be loved and adored by the Capitol?” You say it a tad bit sarcastically, but your tone dulls down when you notice how serious his face is. 

He shakes his head. “No, I really don't.” You scoff, beginning to get upset over the idea that a night that was turning peaceful, began to turn on its head. “Because everything comes with a price here,” he says your name, making sure you’re listening. “The ‘love’ the Capitol has for me is ingenuine, they love me like I’m an object. Not a person with thoughts and feelings.” 

“Finnick, I don’t think I understand.” But you do, you really do. 

He tells you as much, that same sad smile from earlier on his lips. 

Before you can speak, he does. “Look, I came in here to ask you what you want.” 

Your eyebrows furrow. 

“Before the Tributes I mentor get sent off, I like to fulfill their wish. In case they don’t…”

“In case they don’t make it back.” He nods. “So a dying wish?” Another nod. 

“So, what d’you want?” 

You know what you want. You’ve wanted it since you were a teenager, watching Finnick, the most loved victor, leave for the Capitol and come back weeks later. Since you watched him train Annie Cresta and everyone, including yourself, believed there to have been something between them. Since he walked into your room just 20 minutes ago. 

“What I want, I don’t think I can ask you for.” You speak low, your voice a whisper. Your head rests on the headboard behind you, turned to face Finnicks. 

He shakes his head gently. “I have connections. I can guarantee almost anything.” 

“No, Finn.” You don’t think you can ask him for this. Especially with what he’s essentially just told you. It would be selfish, it would be insincere, it would ruin the friendship you have between you two. 

“I can’t.” 

His head’s already facing yours, and he brings one of his hands up to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No, Finn, I can’t.” Your eyes sting, as does your nose, and you know there’s no use in pretending the tears aren’t there. He’s seen them, he’s acknowledged them by swiping his thumb under your eye, catching the first drop. 

“I would do anything for you. Just say the word.” 

You search his eyes, his face, the tip of his ears, his Adam’s Apple. You’re looking for his tell. But it’s not there. It’s just Finnick. Your Finnick. And he wants the best for you. 

You’re the most vulnerable you’ve ever been at this moment; sitting in a bed in the Tribute Center, just two days out from the Hunger Games, a period of uncertainty that is life or death; your best friend, and unrequited crush, as your mentor, having to hold your pieces together at least until the end of this. 

There’s no point in hiding anything. You know you need to lay it all out. So you do. 

“Even take my virginity?” 

The air is still. Stiff. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t breathe. His thumb halts. He doesn’t blink. 

You sit there, watching him, holding in the sob that threatens to wrack across your body. 

“Forget it. I’m sor–” 

“Yes.” 

“What?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a moment where you don’t act. A moment where disbelief trickles down your body like the tears from your eyes do on your face. 

“Finn…” 

“I would do anything for you. I have wanted you since we were young, but I thought…” 

“Doesn’t matter what you thought then. Not anymore. We go from here now.” 

And there is the nagging possibility that all of this could be because of your potential fate. Maybe he’s humoring you, or letting you in on that final step of human intimacy before your life ends. You prefer not to think about it. Especially whenever Finnick’s moving closer to you and you can feel his breath on your lips. 

Your lips are almost touching, the tanned skin of his face is right in front of you, the same goes for the pink of his lips. He’s almost there, then he says, “Are you sure?” 

“‘M sure.” And Finnick is kissing you. Finnick Odair is finally kissing you. 

He kisses you softly, sweetly, with precision and a gentle nature. As if he’s afraid that he’ll do something wrong and hurt you. 

You kiss him back in a similar fashion, just with added timidness that Finnick doesn’t possess. 

Your hands raise slowly, in choppy motions that are both due to your uncertainty, and the distraction of finally having the man of your dreams kiss you like you’re made of porcelain. But you manage to get your hands to Finnicks torso, palms pressed flat against his thin shirt so that you can feel the abs along his torso. 

You’ve felt them before, in time of play fighting, or whenever he would have you replicate his breathing or form. But touching along his torso in this circumstance is different. Now, your touch ignites a fire within you. It makes Finnick grip the back of your neck and pull you closer with one hand, the other sliding the covers away and hooking his hand at the back of your thigh, pulling your left leg over your right. 

Your hands slide down to the hem of his shirt, slowly starting to slide it up until he gets the hint and pulls away just enough for you to slide the shirt between you two, up and over his head. Then he’s back on you. 

When you sigh blissfully into his mouth, he starts to kiss you like he’s desperate to have you close. Like he wants to engulf your entire being until you’re intertwined. 

The best you can do is physically move closer to him, letting the hand on the back of your thigh guide you to straddling his lap. 

It’s then that Finnick pulls away from you. Your hands trail up to cup his cheeks, moving back to play with the golden blonde locks that seemed to never be out of place. 

He stares up at you, sea-green eyes pulling you even further into a state of enchantment. Whenever he tilts his head, eyes stuck on you, and kisses into your palm, you melt. His hand lifts to gently circle around your wrist, nimble fingers rubbing little circles into the skin. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Finnick speaks. “I need you to remember that even if I’m doing the work, you set the pace. You tell me what you like and don’t like. You tell me when to go and when to stop. Okay?” 

“Okay.” 

And then you’re back at it. His hands circle around to your lower back, pushing into the curvature to bring your chest closer to him. He uses the position to his advantage, dipping his head to kiss at the exposed bits of your skin; your neck, collarbone, the starts of your cleavage. He quickly becomes frustrated with the lack of skin, and you bite back a smile as you gently nudge his head back and begin to undo the buttons. 

He watches you in a trance-like state with a look that seems akin to awe. You can’t help but tease him just a bit, shifting in your position atop his crotch and slowing your work on the buttons. 

Finnick groans and his hands leave your lower back to push your own hands away, deciding to undo your buttons himself, grumbling something under his breath about you being a tease. 

When you giggle above him, Finnick has you pushed onto your back in what seems like the blink of an eye. Really, it did happen quick, but your eyes were already closed from giggling so hard, so reopening them to Finnick above you, your shirt opened and your barely confined tits in Finnick’s eyeline, is disorienting. 

“Jesus, look at you,” Finnick mumbles. And he is. His eyes are hungirly skirting over your figure, taking it all in. From your eyes, to the bra that you wear, all the way to the cotton panties that hug your hips. 

His gaze stops at your lower half for a while, watching your stomach rise and fall with your breaths and the way there’s definitely a little wet patch on your panties. 

“What am I gonna do with you?” He mumbles under his breath. The question is rhetorical, and meant only for him. But, in a fit of nerves, you answer anyway, needing to do something other than lay there. 

“I don’t know, Finn, there’s a lot that you can do. You can go down on me, give me your fingers, your cock.” 

His eyes lift to yours, shock evident within them. “Did you just say the word ‘cock’?” He laughs between the words, that perfectly pearly white smile greeting you. 

“Yeah,” you say, laughing through the syllables too. 

Finnick shakes his head with that smile still present. 

He swears under his breath but then his fingers are playing with the hem of your panties and you’re back under, focused on what he could possibly plan to do next. He hums, eyes on you, eyebrows raised. 

It takes you a second to realize what his intentions were, but you do soon enough. “Keep going. Please.” 

The tips of his fingers reach below the band of your panties. He begins to pull them down, just until your hip bones and the start of your mound becomes visible. At first, you disgraced the Capitols groomers' work of ridding your entire body of hair, but you can’t help but feel a little grateful that they did. You knew that Finnick wouldn’t care either way. 

You lift your hips, letting Finnick pull your panties over the curve of your ass. When they sit at the halfway point of your thighs, he lowers his head and presses his lips to the area right above the waistband. And he continues to do so, sliding your underwear down and kissing through the journey. 

The last kiss he gives you is on the arch of your foot, right before he guides the garment over the remaining part of your body, throwing them off to the side of the bed. 

Finnick sits back on his heels then, just looking at you, looking at your legs which are just almost crossed at the knee, your ankles together and one knee raised slightly above the other. You’re shielding the most vulnerable part of you, hiding it almost. But when his green eyes meet your center, briefly meeting your eyes, you slowly part your legs, allowing him to see you in all of your glory. 

Finnick sucks in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising with it. He doesn’t let it out until your legs are completely opened and bent at the knee, inviting him in. You sit halfway up on your elbows, watching him, waiting for him. 

It’s not long until he makes a move, just a few tense moments and then Finnick’s kicked into action. 

His calloused hands on your knees, sliding around to the back of your thighs as he lays on his stomach, directly facing your cunt. 

When he speaks, you can feel his breath on you. “I wanna taste you, sweetheart. Just for a bit. Is that alright?” 

His eyes are visible over your mound, but they’re not focused on you just this once. They’re focused on your cunt, scanning it, taking it all in almost as if he’s committing this moment to his very strong memory. 

You’re a little starstruck, reckoning with the notion that Finnick wants to give you head. Therefore, you sit there in stunned silence, attempting to find the words to deliver your over enthusiastic agreement. But Finnick takes your silence negatively. 

“You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, honey. Just wanna make you feel good. That’s what I’m here for.” And there are those eyes again. They’re pleading, but also making you feel comfortable, reminding you that you’re in charge. 

You smile gently, nodding. “Yes.” 

And the first lick has your head spinning. His tongue is warm, and wet, and he licks a long stripe from your leaking entrance to your clit. It’s slow, and methodical. He licks your juices up, but they’re coming back tenfold by the time he’s pressed a kiss to your clit. 

A surprised moan pushes up your throat. The feeling has your hips pushing into his face on their own accord, your elbows slipping out from under you and your head throwing back onto the mattress. 

Finnick disconnects from you for just a second to let out a pleased groan, but the absence is too much for you already. You’re wiggling your hips, searching for him. 

Finnick laughs and the sound has heat rising through you. “‘M still here. Not leaving this pussy anytime soon.” 

He lives up to his promise immediately. His mouth’s back on you, licking and sucking on your most sensitive parts. 

It’s now that you remember how experienced Finnick is. How knowledgeable he is about the general spots of someone’s body. And he’s able to apply that knowledge to your body, with the help of your zealous responses. 

You’re moaning, your back arching, your hands gripping the sheets. Your knees bend more, your legs spread more, it’s all more and more and more. You want more from Finnick. You need more. 

You’re communicating that fact when you finally have enough courage to fist a hand into Finnick’s hair, and it’s like he’s rewarding you when he slyly begins to probe a finger at your tight entrance. 

You’re clenched, far from relaxed, but with a deep breath, you’re loose enough for him to slide in to the first knuckle, then the second, then all the way, his single digit comfortable within your walls. 

Finnick fucks you with his finger, aiding the penetration with his pretty pink lips around your pink nub. He sucks, the pressure making your head spin, your consciousness in the clouds to the point where you don’t notice another of Finnick’s deft fingers teasing your entrance. 

“Another?” he asks, voice barely able to be heard due to his proximity to your cunt. 

“Uh-huh,” is all the affirmation you can give. 

It’s a little tight and uncomfortable at first, but once his digits are evened out and curling in you, and his tongue is lapping up your juices like it’s water, you’re riding so high in a blissed out state that discomfort is the last thing on your mind. 

Your approaching orgasm becomes known to you quicker than you can anticipate. It’s like all of a sudden there’s tension in your lower abdomen, begging for your attention, begging to be released. 

“Finnick, Finn,” he hums, not stopping any of his ministrations. “‘M so close. Almost there.” 

You hadn’t thought it to be possible but Finnick gives you more. His fingers fuck you faster and harder, his cheeks hollow as he alternates between sucking along your nerves and stroking his tongue is the areas that you’re most sensitive. 

It feels so fucking good, a pleasure you’d never experienced in your life. You couldn’t imagine being in this position with anyone other than your best friend, someone you trusted with your entire being. It’s as if he knows your body better than you do, because sooner than you would’ve liked, your back is arching and your legs are lifting off the bed and your nails are digging into Finnick’s scalp, all signs that your orgasm is right there and you cum with a loud cry that melts into breathy moans. 

Finnick pulls his fingers out of your cunt but his mouth stays on you, placing gentle kisses and kitten licks along the slicked area. When your legs have lowered and your breath has evened out, he pulls his head away from you, a wince leaving his lips. 

“Darling,” he starts, receiving an affirmative hum in response. “You’re pulling my hair out.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Your hand lets go of his hair, your body burning with embarrassment. But Finnick’s bright laugh and content smile soothes you. 

“‘S okay,” he mumbles as he leans up and presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. Your lips mold to his like they were created for each other, and the kiss is slow, methodical, loving. 

You whine when he pulls away, but his hands have already hooked under your thighs and he’s pulling you with him as he starts to sit back. 

You end up in the position you started in, sitting on Finnick’s lap, your hands on his shoulders. 

Under you, you can feel his bulge confined in his pants. You shift a little over it, your throat beating with your heart rate due to the anticipation. 

Finnick’s eyes close softly and his head throws back. Your hand rises to push back the bangs of his hair which lay on his forehead, in favor of resting your skin against his. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans. “We …. We can’t.” 

Your heart drops. 

“Huh?” 

“I wanna feel you, sweetheart, I swear.” His eyes open to stare at yours and you notice the sincerity in them. It doesn’t do much to lift your spirits, though. “But we can’t. Not yet.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, waiting for further explanation. It comes from him quickly. 

“I need you in your right mind in the Games. You need to be focused, and only thinking about survival. Nothing else.” 

“You’re so full of yourself.” 

He chuckles. “Maybe. But we have to play it safe.” A beat. “You trust me, right?” 

And you do. Wholeheartedly. 

[widowmaxff]

Hello!! I was having some bad days recently, could u make a one-shot of moms!wandanat and reader with the reader having a bad week, and then Wanda and Natasha comforts reader? If you want to, of course!

enough for you

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader

warnings: bad thoughts, self-deprecating reader, lots of crying, one agent who really needs to stfu - i think thats all!

a/n: tysm for the request my love! im so sorry for the delay in posting this one shot, my life has been very busy these last few months. and i dont think this one turns out the way u wanted it, because i already made one like your request but w mom!wanda but i hope u like it :3

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE!

You always saw yourself working for SHIELD. Being able to do missions and 'save the world' was something you always wanted to do. Having mothers who are considered super heroes was also something that made you inspired by this life, but you only saw it from the outside. How they were greeted by everyone or how it seemed so easy for them to do these hero things. But when you finally got what you wanted when you turned eighteen, it wasn't what you expected.

It was the third time in the last few days that you had messed up in a mission in which you were classified. The looks the other agents gave you at the Academy made you feel horrible. You obviously hadn't messed up the missions on purpose, you would never do that. But it seemed like all those people expected that every step you took would be right, that you would never make mistakes, and that you would be as good as your mothers. Your head hurt just thinking about it. And that thought led you to others, how ashamed you felt remembering how the other agents spoke mean words to you when, again, you messed up on the mission.

You tried to distract yourself from these types of self-sabotaging thoughts about yourself by training even harder. Punching and kicking the red cylinders using all your strength, and even after hours it still felt like you didn't feel good enough, strong enough. All you wanted was to just stop thinking for at least a few seconds, and when you heard those heavy footsteps you knew that wasn't what was going to happen. "Oh, look who's here!"

You didn't care about remembering that agent's name, but you remembered exactly her voice and face, because it was her who started the whispers about how you weren't like your mothers. How you spoiled the missions of the last few days of that week, how you will never be like them. "The daughter of the great Black Widow and the Scarlet Witch, even if it doesn't seem like it." You continue ignoring her presence there, massaging your fingers to continue punching the red bag. "Do they know how you failed this last week?"

She wasn't stupid to know how horrible your week had been, how the failed missions, the disturbances and all those other things were making you almost have panic attacks right there in front of everyone. "No." Your voice was low, because you knew that if you exerted the necessary strength to reach a greater height, the tears would fall without your permission.

"What do you think they will do when they find out how bad you are?" She starts to approach you with those boots with a high step, her head lolling to the side with a tone to tease you. A smirk on her sharp face, her gloved hands resting on her waist. All those little details made you want to scream in her face, tell her that you weren't bad, but how would you say that if you didn't even believe it yourself?

"Maybe they'll get you out of here when they see how bad you are and realize that any of the agents here are much better than you, your place as an Avenger is almost invisible.” The girl laughs, her cheeks almost covering her eyes due to the action. At some other time you would find her features extremely beautiful, but at that moment, you wanted to vomit just looking at her.

Even if you tried to be strong at that moment, like your mother Natasha, you couldn't. Your fists were clenched tightly trying to control the tears from coming out, the pain of your nails in the palms of your hands trying to distract you from that moment. And every time that Agent mentioned your mother's name, your thoughts directed you only to them, how you wanted to be in their arms right now while you feel your hair being stroked by Wanda's magical hands. You knew that if you wanted comfort from your mothers they wouldn't wait a second to give it to you, and even if you didn't want to talk about why you were feeling that way, they wouldn't force you to talk.

"Where are you going? Ruin another mission?” If it weren't for the high-pitched, irritating tone of her voice, you wouldn't have even registered those questions in your head. Your thoughts were in a totally different space from that place, just wanting your mothers affection. So when you started packing your things and totally ignoring that Agent, you knew that your body wouldn't stop until you got home.

The girl's laugh echoed throughout the room as you headed towards the exit door of the place. In films, this scene would be dramatic, as if the main character was planning some revenge in their head to end the character who keeps provoking them. But at that moment you weren't thinking about revenge, or how you would turn things around, you just thought about how your mothers affectionate touches would turn that bad week into just distant memories. How you were sure that your mother Wanda would know what to say to you and how Natasha would know what to do so that your surroundings were just comfort.

You didn't wait a second before getting on your motorcycle, which Natasha had given you as a gift for your 18th birthday, and heading towards your childhood home. Even though those bad thoughts were in your head now and could possibly distract you in the traffic on the streets, you continued on your way with your eyes soaked with tears and the horrible tightness in your chest. You tried to think of good things, like your mom Wanda would probably be baking chocolate chip cookies and your mom Natasha would just be watching, since cooking isn't one of her great talents, but that domestic situation was pretty far away for you. It seemed that any self-deprecating thought stood in the way, a great layer of ignorance about happiness.

You didn't bother to park the motorcycle correctly, just running towards the entrance porch and knocking, almost softly, on the door. You heard some sweet giggles through it, confirming that your mothers were in some domestic situation, before the door calmly opened and revealed Wanda's long red hair. Her smile opened for a few seconds when she saw it was you, their beloved daughter, but when she came across the features on your face, the reddish eyes with lakes over them, her smile soon fell apart, taking its place a worried look. “Sweetie? What happened, my love?"

She took no time in taking you into her arms, even though you didn't answer her question. Your head falls on your mother's shoulder as she wraps one of her arms around your waist and the other massages the hair spread across her chest. Your hands tightly grip the blouse stuck to Wanda's body, as if at any moment she would come off and no longer provide the comfort you needed. Natasha heard your sobs from the kitchen, and she knew they were yours, she knew and kept almost everything about you. She quickly heads towards the front door, seeing her wife's back being grabbed by you, and how your body looked like it would fall to the ground at any moment.

“Shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Wanda whispered in your ear with her sweet voice. Your crying was loud, as if you had kept it for several days, your mother thought. She didn't know and had no idea why you were sobbing uncontrollably and why you arrived so early that day. Normally you would be completing some report, or training, since you always said how strong you wanted to get. But at that moment, everything didn't seem strong to you.

At some point you were carried and taken towards the comfortable sofa in that house. Your thoughts were so loud that you didn't even notice when you were positioned on your mother Wanda's lap. She still kept her grip on his body and the affectionate words in your ear. “I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” Her breathing became heavier and slower, forcing it so that at that moment you could keep up with her. Natasha, beside you two, continued to caress your back, praising you for following Wanda so well.

You finally managed to take a deep breath after what felt like hours of crying and sobbing. Your gaze fell from your mother's eyes to your hands in your lap, you felt embarrassed. Maybe because you were 18 and sitting on your mother's lap, or because you were crying uncontrollably without being able to breathe properly, or because you failed at the only thing you wanted to do at SHIELD. “I feel like a baby.” You say in a low voice, almost making your mothers not hear, even with their proximity.

"Well, you're our baby." Natasha says making you finally let out a laugh between your lips. “Do you want to tell us why you're so sad, my love?” You didn't know if you wanted to tell them or not, the negative thoughts making you think they were going to fight you, tell you how bad you are. So, you shrug and lay your head on Wanda's shoulder again, but in a position so you could still look at your mother Natasha. “I just- I had a bad week.” You murmur, closing your eyes to feel the comfort that place brought you. “And, um… I think I should stop being an Agent.”

That took their mothers by surprise. You always said you wanted to be one of the people at SHIELD and you always trained to be one of the best at that place. “Oh, and why do you think that?” Wanda questions. Even though you didn't see her, you knew she would be looking at Natasha, as if they were talking through looks.

“I’m not good enough.” You felt Wanda's body tense beneath you. Your mothers always knew how much you felt like everyone was better than you, how hard it was to believe you were good at something. “This week I- I ruined every mission I went on,” Your mother's blouse was soaked with your tears, and now she could once again feel the salt water falling from your eyes through the fabric. “all the Agents are making fun of me because of it. They say I will never be like you.”

When you finish speaking, Wanda's grip on your body becomes even tighter, you feel Natasha's hand in your hair, stroking it as you hear her sigh deeply. “I've lost count of how many times your mother and I messed up a mission.”

“What?”

“There were several times when I blew up my teammates, for example, Uncle Tony was probably the one who received the most blasts.” Natasha says, making the three of you laugh at the words. “What about the times your mother mistook me for enemies and threw me out of buildings with her magic? We had to stop missions many, many times.” She emphasizes the word 'many', as if she were singing it.

“Remember when I joined the Avengers, Nat?” She was asking your mother, but she was talking so you could listen. “I was much older than you, Y/n/n, and I couldn't do half the things you do today at SHIELD, even with my powers.” She leaves a kiss on your head before continuing. “In every training session I did, I always ended up on the ground.” You laugh again, feeling much lighter than before.

”And you want to know something? I bet you were the one doing all the mission stuff, huh?” Natasha says. “Because if no Agent has ever made a mistake on a mission, then they aren’t real Agents.”

“Your mother is right, make mistakes is human, my love, and everyone will do it one day.” You feel your thoughts start to ease now. The tears stopped falling down your face and only lightness is in their place. Your mothers always knew what to do to make you feel good.

"You're right..." You finally admit, lifting your head from your mother's shoulder and looking at the two women in front of you, seeing nothing but affection and truths.

Wanda sits you down on the couch before getting up and ruffling your hair. "Now, don't worry your pretty head about that stuff and just think about the cookies that are going to go into your stomach in a little while that obviously weren't made by Natasha!"

"What do you mean by 'obviously’?" You laugh at that one scene, seeing Natasha's arms cross under her breasts as an indignant expression is placed on her face.

And at the end of the day you knew that you wouldn't have to worry about anything - just your mom's delicious cookies - and that you knew that your moms would never think about fighting or being upset with you. And Natasha would definitely make sure you didn't need to worry about that Agent who wouldn't leave you alone. That bitch will obviously never set foot in SHIELD again.

[actual-greenninja]

They spot you in the hot springs in the swordsmith village

Tanjiro/ Genya/ x gn!Reader (separate)

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Synopsis:

You are a demon slayer who has been sent to the swordsmith village to patrol for demons while also waiting for your demon slayer blade (or any weapon) to be repaired. While on your stay you decide to take a relaxing dip in the hot springs. You didn't expect another demon slayer to catch you there, especially not them.

Note: This story contains heavily hinted pining.Reader Is GN! and no pronouns are used. But this is my first time writing gn so please forgive me if it's not the best. Also this is sfw but the character kinda catches you slightly naked.. it's a hot spring of course.

-------------------------~★★★~-------------------------

Tanjiro: ❤️(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

❤️ He is such a sweetheart<3

❤️ Tanjiro would be quite flustered

❤️ but he would try his utmost best to hide it, he wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable

❤️ He will want to join you (considering how he acted with Genya when he saw him at the hot spring)

❤️ Of course if you are Afab! he may be more respectful, but since this is GN! Reader he might be more forward and join you

❤️ He is respectful nonetheless!! He is a little bit blushy but is really just happy to see you

All you needed right now was a relaxing way of spending your afternoon. You had spent the whole night patroling the area, no demons were spotted but you didn't get much sleep as a result of you taking it upon yourself to be on watch for the night. You just needed to relax your body from being on high alert all night. You figured dipping in the hot springs would be a good way to do this.

You got up to the hot springs, the place looked deserted, perfect! You started to remove all pieces of your demon slayer uniform. In no time at all you were in the hot spring waters. You relaxed there in the steamy water for quite a while, feeling alot more at peace. You stood up, you were about to make your way through the hot spring and make your exit, feeling you spent enough time there. Just as you got up you looked to where you came in to see Tanjiro standing there. Your face was flushed, and you couldn't tell, but so was his. He stayed silent for a second before putting on a bright smile, he was happy to see you, but he didn't think he'd see you like this, here.

" [Last name]! Hey! I didn't think I'd see you here! How are you?!" He asked in his usual happy, polite tone, his voice was a little louder than needed, he couldn't really control the volume of his voice when he was nervous. "Um.. hey Tanjiro! Im Good, I just came here to relax in the hot spring..!" You called back to him with a nervous smile. Tanjiro's eyes light up. He gave another one of his sweet, warm smiles, they were so intoxicating. How can someone have a smile as warm as the sun, and eyes as pure as an angels..? "Really? I was just gonna come here and do the same thing! Why don't we relax here together" He asks with a happy smile. Before you can even answer Tanjiro was already stripped down and joining you in the hot waters.

He walked over to you, your smile never wavering. Once he finally made it to you he suddenly became a little more flustered, averting eye contact slightly. He didnt want to accidentally stare at you and your body, he thought you looked lovely, you and your body looked great! But he didn't want to stare, in fear of making you uncomfortable.

Soon enough though Tanjiro started to feel alot more comfortable, you two relaxed in the spring water together, talking about the demons you've slayed, the missions you guys have gone on, how your training has been going for you both and of course talking about how nezuko has been doing.

You both even went to go eat some food that was being served around that time together. You both had a great time together once you both got over your nerves around eachother. Tanjiro was extremely sweet and said with blushy cheeks that if you ever wanted to do this again he'd love to do this again soon! You couldn't help but get super happy. Hopefully you guys will do more things like this in the future!

Overall 10/10, Tanjiro is such a sweetie pie, respectful and overall perfect, I love him so much!!

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Genya:💜(⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ꁞ⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠˶⁠ ⁠)

💜 Poor thing

💜 Will probably have a heart attack

💜 he might not even be able to speak

💜 When he does he might act all defensive and act like this is nothing when really you can tell he is on the verge of fainting

💜 Will try his best not to stare at you... Shy baby..

You had heard a few things about the hot springs while on your stay at the swordsmith village. You heard from Tanjiro, your fellow demon slayer and good friend of yours that you should consider taking a dip into the hot springs. He had noticed that you have been a little on edge with training and how you felt a little defenseless with your blade being repaired, leaving you weaponless temporarily.

You decided to take his advice the next day after some training to ease up your thoughts and your muscles. Once you got up to the hot springs you started to undress and relax into the hot spring.

You have to admit, this was super relaxing, you found yourself sinking into the warm water, next thing you knew you were under the water. You noticed a muscular figure entering the water. From underwater, you assumed it was Tanjiro, he did know that you were gonna be here, and you told him that he should feel free to join you. You started making your way to the muscular figure underwater, once you were Infront of him you popped up from under the water with a happy smile.

"Hey Tanjiro-" You were cut off when you realized it wasn't Tanjiro, Rather, it was Genya, the Big, Tall guy who you've noticed while on your stay here. His eyes pierced into your soul, he looked just as shocked. "I- Im so sorry Shinazugawa San! I thought you were Tanjiro!" You said apologetically. You then realised that his cheeks were completely red and he looked like he was about internally combust. He started to stutter, however not actually saying any coherent words. "Um, Shinazugawa San, are you ok? You seem... Panicked?"

He had no idea where to put his eyes, he didnt want to stare at you, but you looked so... Good.... But he was couldn't stare! That's weird and would give you the wrong idea. He feels you have already caught him staring at you multiple times during your stay.

He started to stutter again, his cheeks becoming redder. He then stammered in an angry tone, "T- The hell!? Im Fine! Im Not blushing! God damn it, leave me alone!". He then started to hurriedly exit the Hot spring, completely flushed. You had no idea what just happend, you didn't mention his blush, and why was he so angry when you just asked about his well being? You were rather confused, but you started to smile to yourself, you could tell he was just flustered.

You saw him a while later while you were eating the dinner that had been served to you. You look up to see Genya sitting across the room, staring at you once more. You smiled at him kindly, making him jump. He was extremely flustered. He turned his head away, acting upset, but for a second you swore you saw a small smile on his face.

Overall 7.5/10, cute, but also aggressive. But I love him nonetheless (my baby, he is so cute!!)

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Thanks for reading! Sorry if Tanjiro wasn't written very well, reblogs would be very much appreciated!! I hope to write some more soon, this was fun! Again I hope you guys enjoyed! Constructive criticism is welcome!

[glitterjay]

jay hard thought: dating jay and having sex for the first time after constantly teasing him for months. you guys decided to take it slow but recently you’ve been trying to hint that you’re ready by wearing barely anything to bed, squirming around in his lap during movie night with all ur friends, and bending over 24/7 on purpose. you’re convinced he’s gonna be sweet and soft. but you’ve pushed his buttons and caused him to snap so he fucks you rough and calls you a slut who needs to stop being so bratty. he cream pies you multiple times and then the next morning he eats your pussy for hours as a sorry 🤭

yall are something and i want some of that something too

warnings: 18+ content, MDI! jay x afab!reader, unprotected sex, cream pie lmk if i miss something

author’s note: wow. i have been so busy with uni and work that it feels like i completely forgot how to write. im sorry in advance if this is shitty

it had become a constant thing and ー to jay’s dismay ー a habit of yours to constantly tease him. a new fresh relationship had started for the both of you, and despite the very noticeable sexual tension in the air, you both agreed to take it slow and steady. was this part of a plan? absolutely. who were you to deny that seeing jay contain himself didnt turn you on? the way he bit his lip, or how he would excuse himself sometimes while you hung out with friends became an addiction for you. and here you were once again, only wearing one of his white t shirts to bed and just that. nothing else. the rest of the boys were spread around the house, in the guest room and living room, and you knew that if you only wore one of jay’s shirt, he would go nuts. and he did.

“what the hell is wrong with you!? just wearing one of my shirts with a house full of boys? are you crazy!?”

you were disappointed that he didnt do much other than scolding you, but oh were you so wrong. accepting your failure, you closed your eyes and gave your back to him. you kept the shirt, but the only condition was that you could not walk out of the room in just that. closing your eyes and getting ready to doze of, you felt a tingling sensation on your thighs. ignoring it, you kept trying to go to your dreamland, but the sensation started making its way up your legs. you opened one eye to see your boyfriend’s hands making circles on your skin. it was not new for jay to give you sweet caresses before sleeping, but they felt different this time.

in one sudden movement, a gasp left your mouth as his cold hand found your core. you tried to push him away, eyes now wide open, but it was impossible. his other hand held your body against the bed, and he was strong enough to not budge an inch. “you should’ve thought about the consequences of not wearing anything to bed.” his voice was way raspier than usual, and you could sense a different feeling from his eyes. it made you excited, but you also knew that jay was a softie inside.

your train of thoughts had stopped when something slammed into you. you screamed at the pain, quickly putting your hand over your mouth. he was balls deep in you, not moving, just standing there staring down at you. once again, he had thrusted into you harshly, still no preparation at all. the stinging made your eyes water, but it soon started melting with the pleasure of every thrust. you had never seen this side of your boyfriends but god were you loving it.

soon enough you started watching stars around the room. jay kept a fast, harsh, and steady pace, already making you come undone various times. but him? he had enough self control to hold his own release for a long time. just as you were about to reach your fourth high, you felt something warm inside of you. it felt like a whole hose had been turned on and warm water came out of it rapidly. the feeling was enough for you to release your own orgasm, making the juices mix and drip out of your pussy.

“this is what slutty and petty girls get when they tease their boyfriends”

[b1adie]

looking into it i think yingxing would have been fire hunt. he’s hunt for sure considering his main thing was hatred of abominations of abundance anyway but he was trained by huaiyan who is known as ‘the flaming heart’ on the zhuming. people and heliobi hang out together there. flint emperor is there. they use the flint emperor’s flame to forge weapons. the forge is called flamedisk forge. lots of fire stuff. so if he learned there he should be fire element. also makes sense with blade’s trailer showing that he is the single candle still lit despite the rest having gone out. would be cool if he had bluish/teal fire bc heliobi and whatnot.

i was gonna say something about how his skill could be him like heating up his sword as one would to forge it (but not THAT hot obviously) and now im thinking about how with blade’s skill he turns his sword from black to red? he is forging that thing. also crazy that that sword weighs like 300lbs and he launched it through the air like a frisbee and dan heng got impaled with it and hardly even stumbled. how strong are these guys. OOOH or yingxing could have a FLAMETHROWERRR thing. he made awesome shit and everyone loved him ok? i know he’s never going to be playable as old man furnace master yingxing but i am just imagining if he was… hehe. arrogant craftsman. god they need to let me see/hear more of him like that. I WANT TO SEE OTHER WEAPONS HE MADE I WANT TO SEE HIM SMILE AND BE PROUD AND ANNOYING!!!!!! OLD MAN NOW!!!!!!

anyways fire/hunt yingxing. imaginary/hunt would be cute and fire/destruction makes sense too and obviously most characters playable paths dont line up with their actual beliefs but idc he seems very hunt to me. i miss him. you guys remember when he said “be careful, high elder, lest you hurt yourself with it.” that was some crazy shit. show me geriatric bladie again pleeeease. blade companion mission better be 6 hours long and at least 100k words and 2 cinematics. i’ll wait. give me his life story all 800 years of it. well i guess that’d be like

age 0-7: love my family. sure hope the beasts don’t arrive!

age 8-15: beasts ate my planet. went somewhere else they are teaching me shit here

age 16-30: i am the best at the shit i was taught. idc that everyone is rude to me about it cuz they can be rude but they can’t beat meeeee 😋

age 31-70: im still the best and now i’m hanging out with my immortal friends yay :) they’re all going to outlive me but that’s for the best i think. Right guys?

age 71-800: Ow ow ow ouch ow. Where the fuck am i btw & who the fuck am i as well. Oh well guess ill stick a branch in my hair

age 801+: kidnapped by robot and woman but it’s fine. girl keeps asking me to play games with her even though i tell her i’m busy cutting my hand off each and every day. beast upon my shoulder saying ‘Meow’ frequently. unsure of the implications of this. robot here sometimes. i like it. woman tells me to stop foaming at the mouth so i do because i respect women. except ONE OF THEM. (can’t remember which one right now). branch growing from my stomach again. not my problem. i will be taking a week long nap now.

but i want 6 hours and 100k words of it with pictures and voice acting as proof.

[scoobyrooster1]

"But to Qimir it also unearthed how little he truly knew you. And something he couldn't predict or control... that probably terrified him."

Their relationship is so realistically tense and terrible i LoVe it. Because YEAH Qimir having 'killed my last teacher <3 ' in their resume doesn't really mean anything good for YOU does it.

I agree! Thats something that Qimir might want to consider haha! Glad you like it!

She's Mine [Part 2]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: You and Qimir travel with the crew to Corinth where you pose as a high class bidder at a black market auction. However, a few unexpected events complicates your mission leaving you wounded and with more questions than answers about the nature of the job. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] She's Mine [Part 1]

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

One month ago...

Under the thick canopy of trees, the clearing was small, just enough space for the two of you to move without constraint.

You and Qimir had stopped on this planet for a brief respite, also provding one of the few places you could train without drawing unwanted attention.

"Again," Qimir instructed, his voice steady and commanding.

You tightened your grip on the wooden stick in your hand. The makeshift training weapon was a far cry from a lightsaber, but it would have to do. You squared your stance, bringing the stick up in a defensive position.

Qimir moved fluidly as he swung his own stick toward you. You managed to block the first strike, the wood clashing with a sharp crack. But Qimir was relentless. His next move was faster, a low sweep aimed at your legs. You jumped back just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike. You were able to catch your breath if only for a moment as he spoke.

“Keep your elbow up,” he reminded you. “Or else I'll catch you before you can block.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his advice even as your muscles burned from the exertion. It had been a long time since you trained like this. Your heart beat inside your chest so rapidly and with such force that you thought it would burst. You had to remember to control you breathing, only letting air pass through your nose, and conserve what little stamina you had left.

Qimir lunged again. You lifted your arm to block, but your elbow dropped just a fraction of an inch too low. His stick slipped past your defense, tapping your ribs with just enough force to sting. Your torso buckled over in response.

Stepping back to give you a moment to recover, he didn't need to tell you what you had done wrong.

"I get it." You said sternly.

"You need to anticipate the next move. Don't just react—predict."

You clenched your jaw in frustration, wiping the sweat from your face with the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your stance, raising your arm higher this time. Qimir watched you carefully, nodding in approval before launching into another series of attacks. You parried each one, your movements more precise now, more controlled.

The two of you moved in a deadly dance, sticks clashing and feet shifting on the soft earth. You began to lose yourself in the rhythm of it, your mind clearing as your body took over.

It was just you and Qimir, the world narrowed down to the space between your bodies.

Until his stick found your ribs again.

Qimir stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Better," he said, his voice softer now, less harsh. "Still a lot to learn."

You made a face about to mock him for saying a high and mighty master line.

He caught you before you could. "Don't start."

You just laughed, then nodded, panting from the effort. Your arms felt like lead, but there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing you had improved, even if just a little.

"Thats enough for today," he said, tucking his stick under his arm.

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

You jolted awake shaking off the memory that overcame your senses.

You had been traveling for a few hours and had fallen asleep regret-tingly straining your neck in the process. Qimir sat on the other side of the cargo hold.

After the heated discussion you both had… yeah it was probably for the best.

You had both taken precautions to hide any personal items that wouldn’t classify as civilian.

I.E. one cortosis helmet, vambrace, and lightsaber.

You remembered tracing your fingers over the embedded scars of the metal. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

Try it on.

Those words sent shivers through your entire body.

You wondered if when you returned to Qimirs little backwater planet, you too would craft something made of the precious metal.

Would we ever be able to return?

"Put these on"

Ian had thrown a duffle at your feet. You unzipped the bag to find far nicer clothes than the ones you were wearing.

"What happened to drawing less attention?"

“You’ll be bidding with some serious credits, you need to look as though you didn’t just crawl out of a bantha pit.”

You didn’t bother to scowl at Ian for his cruel joke.

“And who will I be today?”

“Bidder 79.”

“Lovely.”

The outfit was formal, modest, a suit-like ensemble made from breathable fabric in dark hues of blue and gray. You took one of the scarves from the bag and wrapped it around your head and hair. The less recognizable you were, the better.

“Don’t look at anyone, don’t talk to anyone, don’t answer any questions you don’t have to—”

“I think she gets it” Qimir interrupted, his voice curt.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Ian finished.

You gave Ian all the confirmation he deserved. "Don't do anything you would do... got it."

You were dropped at the nearest corner with Rod following closely behind.

The coordinates Ian had provided led you to a rough, gritty part of the city, where the streets were narrow and the air thick with the scent of smoke and decay. The towering buildings around you were a patchwork of cracked concrete, rusted metal, and flickering neon signs, casting eerie glows onto the damp pavement. You approached the entrance of a large, nondescript building, its facade faded and crumbling, blending seamlessly into its surroundings.

Pushing through the heavy, rusted door, you stepped into a dimly lit lobby. The few figures loitering in the shadows eyed you with suspicion. You made your way to an elevator at the far end of the room, its grated door screeching as you pulled it open.

The elevator groaned to life, descending into the depths below the city. As you felt the air grow cooler and the hum of the city above fade into silence, your pulse quickened. When the doors finally slid open, you were greeted by a stark contrast.

Before you lay the Corinth black market, a sprawling underground bazaar hidden beneath the city. The space was vast, its ceiling arched and lined with cables and dim, industrial lights casting a dull glow over the scene. The market was alive with activity—merchants hawking their illicit wares from makeshift stalls, the air buzzing with whispered deals and low, guttural conversations in a dozen different languages. The scent of exotic spices, machinery, and lawlessness filled your nose.

The Corinth black market was a place where laws were only mere suggestions.

Rules, Rules, Rules... If you don't follow them, you never have to break them.

Minutes later, you found yourself seated in an uncomfortable chair, dark lenses shielding your eyes as you scanned the stage ahead. You were in a small room dimly lit but far richer than the bazaar outside. The items up for auction you guessed based on size and weight was a mix of trinkets and far more dangerous contraband, all locked away in secure containers.

Your client had provided you with only a number, leaving you in the dark about what you were actually bidding on. Your job was to outbid everyone else. Rod, as Ian assured you, would make sure you had the funds to back up whatever figure you landed on. How they’d managed that was another mystery, but one you didn’t need to solve.

“Item number XN2187”

Your eyes tracked the stage.

This was it.

What the staff placed on the table next made absolutely no sense to you.

It was a book... or... a journal?

"Let’s start the bid at 100,000 credits."

Maker.

You had to withhold your gasp.

Two people had already called out raising the bid to 250,000 within 3 seconds.

You threw your card up.

“300,000.”

You saw another card go up near the front.

“350,000”

Maker how could a journal be worth this much.

You raised your card again with no hesitation.

“400,000.”

They matched it again. "4500,000."

“500,000”

It was all fake credits and Ian had given you your instructions... attain that item at whatever price... better to end it right here.

You waited for their response, but there was none.

Got it.

“Sold...to number 79.”

Small claps ensued.

You headed to the back of the stage where the transactions were being held.

Suddenly your path was blocked, now inches away from a hooded figure.

"Whatever your being paid, we can double it." They hissed in your ear.

Rod glanced at the human stranger with his fixed glowing pinpoint eyes that seemed to show concern even for a droid.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." You continued to walk past them.

They grabbed your forearm. Their grip was strong.

“You take it and you’re a dead woman walking.”

You could now see their face. A male human with rusty brown hair and dark eyes.

You shook off the strangers hand and stated with cold indifference, "I already am."

Your response seemed to catch him off guard.

You shrugged him off turning away, finally reaching the desk behind the curtains.

"Bidder 79?" the attendant confirmed.

"That's right. Item XN2187."

"Please have your droid exchange the credits for your purchase."

Rod stepped forward, inserting his chip into the computer. A moment later, a man presented the box.

The attendee looked at the screen, seeming pleased. "Thank you madam. Have a wonderful evening."

Your breath resumed as you smoothly took the box and gave the courtier a smile. What ever Rod had done it had worked. You cracked it open checking that the item was inside.

Rodney turned in the other direction taking a different route to meet back up at the rendezvous.

That had been surprisingly easy.

"See you back at the ship." You whistled as you turned into the crowd behind.

Something struck your mind. The force had shifted near you and you could feel it. You started scanning your surroundings more carefully.

Watch out.

You unholstered your gun but it was too late.

It was all of 2 seconds before you felt the box knocked out from under your forearm. The force of a back kick to your chest sent you crashing to the ground. Dirt filled your mouth as you hit the earth, the impact reverberating through your body. Your blaster had been sent flying across the ground.

Damn it had been a while since you were hit that hard.

Gritting your teeth, you turned to face your assailant— female Twi'lek with green skin, her imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Her face sheathed in fabric and some manner of breathing apparatuses. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the chaotic crowd fading into the background.

The journal had fallen out of the box now laying between you and your attacker.

It was too valuable to lose. You couldn't just run.

You pushed yourself off the ground, moving faster than you had fallen. As the warrior lunged for the book, you reacted instinctively, snapping your leg out to kick their hand away. The clash of metal and bone echoed in your ears as you simultaneously snatched journal, pulling it close to your chest. The adrenaline surged through your veins as you regained your footing, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

She charged at you closing the distance swiftly. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding her grasp. She swung her arm in a wide arc that forced you to duck, the wind from her strike grazing the top of your head.

With the book still clutched tightly to your chest, you spun around, using your momentum to drive your elbow into the Twi'leks side. The impact caused her to stagger.

She recovered swiftly, raising her arm to strike again this time brandishing a small blade. You heaved your body from left to right to dodge, the knife dancing centimeters away from your chest.

You dodged another stab. But she was smart. The Twi'lek flipped the blade through the air catching it with her left hand. You felt a sharp pain spread in your chest. Too distracted with the wound in your right side, you failed to notice her right hand swinging towards you head.

Your brain rattled inside your skull as you hit the earth. Applying pressure to the bleed you turned your pounding head upwards. She picked up the journal from the floor, her other hand now brandishing a blaster pointed directly at your forehead.

"Should've taken the deal"

You only stared down the barrel of her gun. This couldn't be the end.

You wouldn't let it be the end. You blinked. She pulled the trigger. A shot rang out.

You weren't dead.

You stared at the gun.

The blaster shot hung suspended in mid-air, glowing red just inches from your nose.

It floated there, trembling as if struggling against an invisible force, caught between you and the barrel.

Qimir.

You almost couldn't breathe and realized it could only last for so long. You ducked your head before the shot could continue its intended path, piercing the dirt behind you, leaving a small scorched black hole in its wake.

Your breathing was rapid and deep as stared at the hole in the ground that was intended for your head.

The Twi'leks eyes widened. Baffled by what she had just witnessed.

"You... you're a jedi." She sounded as disgusted as she was surprised.

“Not quite.”

In a fluid motion, you kicked a cloud of dust up towards her face. She loosen her grip on the journal stumbling back. Sprinting past her you grabbed the book, the pain of the stab wound luckily numbed by the adrenaline coursing through you. She roared in frustration, but you were already several paces ahead.

You could hear her quick footsteps behind you, but you didn't look back. Your only thought was to put as much distance between you and her as possible.

You ducked into an alleyway once you thought it was safe to stop, determined to sacrifice just a moment to see what you were truly risking your life for.

You opened the book.

Scribbles you couldn't understand filled page after page. Flipping through it all you couldn't make any sense of it.

You stopped at the back of the last page.

Written then carved delicately into the leather near the binding was a name.

Mari San Tekka.

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

The plan had gone off without a hitch... if you hadn't included the unknown assailant that almost put a blaster hole through your skull.

Closing the blast doors, you buckled over, heart still racing. You ran your fingers over your cheek which was tender to the touch. It had to be badly bruised and you could better feel the one developing across your chest now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Not to mention the blood dribbling down your side.

"That went well."

Qimir had caught you off guard. You didn't think he'd be back to the ship by now with how much of a crowd that stood between you and the ship.

You inhaled deeply resting against the cold metal wall your right hand still pressing the right side of your ribs.

“You had me worried.”

You paused for a moment. You had him… worried?

"I thought I'd have to find a new acolyte after today."

You relaxed your shoulders dropping your hands into fists.

"You son of a bitch."

He smiled with his teeth, his eyes taunting, but his smile faltered when he saw your now exposed lower chest wound.

"That looks serious." You couldn't tell if he was still joking or being earnest. "And what a foul name to call with your mas--"

The ship doors hissed open.

In walked Ian and Rod.

Qimir went quiet not daring to finish his sentence. They didn't need to know what you and Qimir were. If they did, they'd all be dead.

The Jedi say I can't exist. They see my face... They all die.

If that's what it took for Qimir to shut his mouth then fine.

You snapped back to reality reapplying pressure to your side and took the opportunity to interrogate Ian.

"What the hell was that." You yelled.

Ian look disgruntled. "Seems like this cargo is more high priority than I thought."

"Ya think?" You only gave him a pleading look in response.

"Look nothing has changed. You knew what you signed up for."

"I didn't sign up for this... remember?"

"Rod, signal Shaun and Kiro. Prep the hyperdrive, set a course for Canto Bight... You might wanna take care of that." He motioned to the wound that was still leaking blood at your side. "Theres a med bay. Two rights and left."

"Thanks." You started walking towards the doors slightly lightheaded from the blood loss.

He extended a hand. "Here let me help. That looks bad."

You waved him off. "I've got it." Before disappearing down the hall to the med bay.

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

Luckily, Ian had the sense to keep a decent med droid on board. With how sketchy most of his jobs were, it would be foolish not to. The droid had effectively stopped the bleeding, stitched it close, applied bacta fluid, and recommended a pressure dressing before shutting down.

Okay, so not a fully functional droid.

You pulled out the rolls of gauze and compression wraps. The droid had cut through your bloody shirt to access the wound, leaving the tattered fabric hanging from your shoulders. In the mirror, you could see the damage--your chest was mildly bruised, the skin slowly turning a deep purple, especially closer to the wound. You applied a generous amount of gauze and began wrapping the bandage around your chest.

You managed 6 tight loops before a sharp pain made you wince, the movement of extending your torso and raising your arms too much to bear. Breathing deeply, you tried to steady both your head and your heart.

Then, a sudden movement caught your eye, and you nearly reopened the wound as you jumped—Qimir was standing in the now open doorway, silently watching you.

"Maker, you scared me... How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long enough."

"Ha. Ha." You mocked, still guarding your chest, covered but only by a sheer wrap.

"Need help?"

"I got it."

He gave you a look that said, Yeah, sure you do.

You sighed deeply. Every breath was painful. "Fine."

He walked up to where you sat on the med table, glancing at the now deactivated med droid.

"The droid couldn’t do it?"

You tilted your head in response.

"I can call Ian to wrap the rest. He seemed pretty eager," you teased.

Qimir clenched his jaw, clearly not amused, and quickly seized the large roll of gauze from your hand.

"Put your arms around me."

You shot him an incredulous look.

"Maker, you're difficult," he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. With a gentle touch, he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. Then, he took the roll and began wrapping it around the rest of your chest.

You let your hands move closer to his neck, lacing your fingers together and allowing your arms to sag, finding a small amount of relief.

"It's a faulty piece of equipment," you continued. "Leave it to Ian to have a semi-working med droid on a risky job."

Qimir's eyes were only focused on his hands, meticulously layering the bandaging over your wound, making sure it was secure.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," you quipped.

His focus remained unwavering, but you noticed a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

You allowed yourself to dissolve into this moment. It was innocent, and it was yours.

He finished the last length of the bandage, gently tucking it into the top wrap. His fingers brushed against your skin, and your breath hitched slightly. If he noticed, he pretended not to. Both his hands now rested softly against your ribs, checking the stability of his work. Your hands remained on his shoulders.

He looked up at you.

You met his gaze.

"If you let someone get that close, you must make every decision with confidence and conviction. Remember—"

"Don't react, predict," you repeated the mantra.

"There's no room for error in a fight that close."

"Yes, master," you added with a touch of sarcasm.

He only nodded, still getting accustomed to your use of the title.

"Thank you," you said, recalling what had happened only hours ago.

"For the wrap?"

"No. For saving me."

"Saving you?"

"The blaster shot."

"... You're welcome."

He released you, making you remove your arms from his shoulders.

The moment was gone... and something in you would've done anything to get it back.

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

The sound of the ship rattling against the void of space ripped you from sleep. The walls trembled, and a deep, ominous roar echoed from the rear of the ship, filling you with an immediate sense of dread. You ducked out of your cot.

Qimir was already on his feet.

Before you could fully grasp what was happening, he was out the door, and you were right behind him. The cold, metallic floor vibrated beneath your bare feet as you both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor.

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, a brutal force that sent both of you stumbling. You felt yourself losing balance, your body careening toward the metal wall. But before you could brace for impact, Qimir’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist. He swiftly twisted his body, pulling you against him, sending himself backwards.

His back slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. You felt the force of it reverberate through him as he grunted, but his grip on you remained firm.

For a second your chin rested on his collar bone. His mouth grazing your forehead and hair. The heat of his body was a stark contrast to the cold metal wall you were expecting moments ago. You were pressed against his chest, your breath catching as you looked up at him. His expression unreadable.

"Your stitches." He questioned.

"Fine." You assured him.

He only scanned you for a moment then let go of you continuing to walk down the corridor. You hesitated for one second, your heart still racing, before following him.

When you had finally reached the cockpit you found Ian walking toward you and through the doorway before grunting. "Might be a problem with the hyperdrive. We have to make a pit stop."

Any thoughts of Qimirs skin against yours was gone.

You followed him back down the hall.

"Qimir."

He stopped.

You gave him a look.

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

"Mari San Tekka” he repeated the name you had given.

“Do you know that name?”

“Not the person, but the San Tekkas were a great dynasty, closely affiliated with the Republic as hypersurveyors”

"Hypersurveyors?"

"Mappers who worked for the clan, charting new hyperspace routes."

"The writing, I didn't see it at first but they could've been notes or calculations."

"Could you read any of it."

"I've seen hyperspace calculations before, but I didn't recognize the figures in this book. Why would someone risk so much to retrieve it?"

Qimir took a long pause. "I don't know."

The uncertainty laced in Qimirs voice irked you more than you'd like to admit.

———————————————

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[graysnetwork]

⊰Mr. Nonchalant⊱

info- spent half of the day writing this cause I was out of ideas but also bored and stuff. And i still have some requests i still have not done but for some reason i just get stuck. So i'm sorry if you requested and i've never done it.

warnings: wounds mentioned (cut/gash), blood

Summary: Keegan is only ever sweet with you, and it's finally dawned on him that, he likes you, a lot.

Keegan is so sweet with you.

He’s literally so nice to you, helping you with anything you need. And everyone on base fully believed you two had a thing going on because he was only nice to you, until you stared at them in confusion because you had no idea what they meant. There was nothing going on between you guys.

You thought he was just a nice guy who liked to help everyone, but you were wrong, kinda. He was a nice guy who did like to help, just you. 

He was a dream though, he helped you with everything; from training, to grabbing things from high places for you. And to add to that, he was handsome. He had those beautiful icy blue eyes, and he was always clean shaven, he had downturned lips, and short messy black hair. He rarely took his mask off, but with you he did. Barely anyone knew what he looked like. Only the people he trusted knew what his face looked like. You had only joined the team as a medic for them this year so the rest of the team  thought it was surprising he let you see his face since more than half of them have only ever seen his mouth when he lifted his mask to eat.

In Keegan’s perspective, he knew he was being very nice with you. There wasn't a particular reason. He just always wanted to be nice to you. You were pretty and super kind to him so he wanted to be kind to you as well. He was asked constantly by his teammates if you two had something going on and he denied everything, though, he wouldn't deny you if you wanted something to go on.

He was starting to realize his stomach did flips whenever you were around, and his face got hot under his mask when you stared at him through your lashes, and his mouth went dry when you asked him a question. His pupils would be blown out at the sight of you, or just the thought of you.

And he was such a serious guy, but for you…

He would even try to crack a joke or two when you were around just to hear a giggle come out of you. And he had very, very dry humor, and all of the jokes he told you were terrible but that's half the charm.

When Logan finally asked Keegan about you, his cheeks went red, and he stuttered like a kid presenting in front of a class. He was a total mess when it came to you, as a topic. When he was actually talking to you, he was totally fine. But Mr. Nonchalant was acting very chalant about you.

–

You sat in front of keegan staring at the wound on his side, you began stitching him up. His face contorted into an expression of pain, his groans intensified as you reached the middle of the slit.

“m’sorry… but i'm almost done” you whispered and he groaned back as a response. “S’fine sweetheart, dont worry about it, just hurry.. please” he whispered, You nodded and finished stitching the wound. Keegan sighed as you finished, he closed his eyes, sat back in his seat, and relaxed. “thank you..” his voice barely above a whisper. “are you okay?” you asked and furrowed your brows “im great, feeling better already” he muttered back, “good, i'm gonna go get you ice” you smiled and went over to the fridge and grabbed an ice pack. His eyes followed your figure, and your voice, he smiled and watched you.

“y/n, can we talk?’’ he muttered again, “of course, About what?” you perked up your brows, “..us..” he whispered, his stomach felt empty and he felt like throwing up. “what about us?” “well, i uh.. I need to talk to you about something” he gulped and he took his eyes off of you as you sat back down in front of him, he couldn't look at you anymore now, his eyes wandered everywhere except towards you.

“about what keegan?” you asked and placed the ice on the wound. “I-” he let out a shaky sigh as he sat up again trying to relax as he kept the ice on his slit. “I love you y/n” he whispered, your eyes widened and heat ran up your neck to your cheeks, you felt hot, not in a good, sexy way. Like you were having a fever.

“Oh wow..”

That was the only thing that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Yeah.. I love you. And it's fine if you don't even remotely like me back, because i love you so much that i just want you to be happy” he got up slowly from the chair, still keeping the ice against himself “ even if that means i don't get to love you, but i want you to be happy, and if that means no me in your life then that's fine, super fine, not fine with me but if it makes you happy, then i'll say it's fine…” 

“I want you” you gulped and stood up in front of him, “really?” his brows perked up and his stomach did flips. “Really.” you nodded and took in a deep breath and exhaled deeply. “good were on the same page..” you gulped once again, “yeah.. So, do you wanna go out some time” he asked, "sure, " you smiled sheepishly. “When we go out, i promise i'll actually have flowers for you and i'll tell you ‘i love you’ properly, y’know, flash mob and everything” he smiled “don't do that, please” you giggled.

He stepped closer,put his hand on your cheek,

And he leaned in and kissed you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back, gosh, he was a great kisser. His other hand found its place on your waist and he didn’t pull away, neither did you. It seemed that the two of you didn’t want this moment to end.

Nobody, if they were in this situation, would ever dare to pull away from this euphoric movie scene. You could probably pitch this as a movie scene, handsome shirtless soldier kissing a medic after admitting their love for each other.

Gosh, he was a good kisser.

[wiltedkyinn]

his favorite girl (Mason Thames x f! reader)

warning; mention of weed(everytime i write celeb! reader i have to make them a stoner), mentions sex jokes, motorcycle mason !!, cliffhanger😭

will have a part two !!

world count; 1k.

synopsis; when you and your boyfriend, mason. Who's a fellow actor on How to train your dragon, get caught on a date by fans. How are you going to answer to the question at the premiere?

•

Me and Mase are finally going out. We see each other almost 24/7 already, due to working on the same movie. While we spend an ample amount of time, it doesn't feel the same as going out. When we're alone, its the most happiest times of my life. Seeing his shy smile every time i look at him for what he deems too long,(i dont think i could never look at him just for a couple seconds, his beauty would take me hours to see and understand it fully.) The way he holds on to me, such passion that makes me believe that that would be the last time we hold eachother. His eyes glints when his talking about his next scene he's doing. The way his ears turn a blush red when i make a suggestive joke. i cant ever get enough. he's like my addiction, feeling an all time high with him.

While we agreed to go out, we couldn't dress up much. not trying to bring more attention then we have already. i opted out for a off the shoulder neckline crop top , with a deep red base color with black skulls on the front. for my pants are black men cargo pants. pairing the outfit i wore my black air force 1's with five bracelets and two dainty one on the other hand. I also layered a (f/c) necklace it had a M carved in it, gave by mason on my birthday, put together with a sun necklace. Glueing on my lashes and doing a simple black smokey eye, i brushed on a small amount of primer,foundation, concealer and bronzer to add warmth. i heard my music quiet down with a quick ding! i looked over at my phone to see a message notification, loml👩‍❤️‍👨.

--

loml👩‍❤️‍👨

Outside ml, u ready?

read at 9:48 pm.

me

ab to be

come inside, its fine

read at 9:49 pm.

--

i heard the front door open, i turned down my music to hear his footsteps better. i soon heard him open the room's door. i quickly saw his blonde curls and his dorky smile. "hey my gorgeous girl," he walked towards me and planted a kiss on my head. i hooked my hands on the back of his neck and look up. more then happy to give him a semi-proper kiss. "hey handsome." i look lovingly in his eyes. he kisses my nose, "you look amazing (name)" he smiles and pulls away. i finally take an actual look at him. he wore a red hoodie and his black cargo pants.

"i think you stole my outfits" i playfully narrow my eyes at him. "hm? but im the one ready, so you stole my outfit." he chuckled at the end. Jesus he is so gorgeous, he's more than perfect. beyond it, in all actuality. he noticed you staring at him more then needed. his shy smile took place of his equally as handsome square smile. "what? do i have something on my face?" his voice was squeaky, pointing more to the fact he has nervous. i giggled at him, i would never get tired of him.

"so wheres everybody?" he asked, he didnt really see my family a whole lot. "ma and my stepmom are out on a date or something, my brother is with my grandma. so its just me and the cats and dogs" i shrugged. "they left you alone?" he quirked an eyebrow. i got up and rummaged my bed. "yeah it's whatever" i found it, the slim black battery that has shango labeled on it, on-top a cartridge fulled with wax. i sat back down a took a hit. i pulled out my hand and silently asked if he wanted to hit it. he thought about it then took it. "mase you dont have too." feeling scared of pressuring him. he coughed after exhaling the last bit of smoke, "its okay, im a big boy" he joked.

i brushed my hair one last time before being happy with the results. "okay im all done." getting up once again and stretching my back to pop it. i grabbed the cart again and inhaled a big amount. exhaling it and coughing a little. mase thought this was funny. i didn't. "girl" i put up my hand and give him a "mean girl" look. he did the same, "girl.." swinging his hip. i grabbed his hand and started to walk out of the room. him complying easily, letting me lead and guide.

i grabbed the keys and locked the door before returning my hands back into his. in full veiw i saw his jet black glittery motorcycle. he handed me a helmet. a light pink with hello kitty sticker and he put his on, a vibrant red with a spider man sticker on the side. he gripped your hands on his waist keeping a semi slight grip on him. he giggled and held your hands before revving and soon riding the roads with winds whipping against the helmet. you ease your grip and lay your head on his shoulder. feeling contempt and safe with him.

he soon stopped by the park, step one to his plan. He had made chocolate strawberries, a small bouquet of flowers, and a bowl of your favorite fruits. you look at the set up breathless, then turned the attention to mason. i pull him into a hug while giving more then generous sum of kisses everywhere on his face. "mason this is so thoughtful, i cant describe how grateful i am," you say into the side of neck. nuzzling more into him, suddenly wanting to smell him.

"its the least i can do for my favorite girl" he says back, kissing the side and top of your head.

[hatelangdon]

I got you, baby.

Pt 1 / 1094 words.

(Franken!Kyle x Witch!Reader)

Angst, Hurt/ No comfort turns into Fluff and Hurt/comfort

(🚨Warnings: ABUSIVE language from a partner, physical ABUSE from a partner, crying, verbal stutters, anxiety attack? Maybe?🚨)

Summary: Zoe left, it was all too much for her. Kyle has made himself physically ill from the heartbreak he feels, and Madison isn't necessarily the best caregiver and someone needs to show him some kindness.

(A/N: I love my sweet angel baby, he deserves only the best. IM SO SORRY IF THIS BREAKS YOUR HEART IT BROKE MINE WRITING IT Also, this is not proofread i'm sorry but Kim, there's people that are dying.)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It had been a week since Zoe's departure from the coven, it was all too much. Taking care of Kyle, Madison's constant harassment, and the pressures of training her powers had drowned her spirit. She had managed to make it out of Kyle's grip in the middle of the night and sneak out.

The only thing that she left was a goodbye note telling Kyle that she loved him but ultimately she chose herself. 

Nights were always the hardest you could hear Kyle crying throughout the walls of the mansion.

 Zoe had basically left him high and dry and in the hands of Madison, who’s attempts to comfort him weren't the greatest. Her patience was thin and if Kyle wasn't calming down fast enough for her she would often become very cruel towards him.

The other girls tried to help him stay sane during the day, Queenie would often read to him, and misty would play Fleetwood Mac and invite him to dance, in attempts to lift his spirits.

You wanted to do more but you had only joined the coven about a month ago so you didn't really know Kyle well enough to extend more than a passing smile if he was near. 

It would work for the most part, he felt better as long as he was distracted.

But once nighttime rolled around and he had no Zoe to hold onto that's when everything would change. It had gotten so bad that Cordelia often had to create botanic concoctions from the greenhouse and have him drink it as a sedative so the poor baby could get some sleep, instead of keeping himself awake from sobbing from heartache. 

It was Wednesday, 8 PM that's usually when the trouble started

“Zoe…Zoe...” you could hear Kyle sobbing but his voice was more hoarse than usual

“she's not here you idiot! I keep telling you this! she left you, she didn't want you, she doesn’t love you like I do!,” Madison barked back

which only made Kyles cries louder, he hated when she spoke to him like that.

“I am so sick of this!”

There was suddenly a loud thump on the wall and you heard Kyle scream which caused you to get out of bed and see what was going on.

Madison had thrown him back onto the wall where she was repeatedly kicking him and yelling.

” I'M THE ONLY ONE LEFT WHO CARES ABOUT YOU! STOP CALLING FOR HER, SHE'S NOT COMING BACK YOU ONLY HAVE ME!”

It's only made Kyle cry harder as he shielded his face from her relentless attacks, he was much stronger than her and more than capable of throwing her across the room if he wanted, but he couldn't seem to get up.

“Kyle sorry! Kyle Sorry!” He choked out repeatedly but Madison was not letting up.

She suddenly stopped, stooping down and grabbing his face making him look up at her.

“you wonder why Zoe left," she scoffed "look at how needy and ungrateful you are, I'm trying to help you and all you can think about is her.”

Your heart broke at the sight, and without even thinking you had thrown Madison across the room with a flick of your wrist. You didn’t even know you had the power, but it came to you with ease in that moment. You marched over to Madison where you had thrown her, even though Kyle was in distress you needed to set her straight first and give him time.

“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?” She sat up to look at you, rubbing her head

“have you lost yours?” Your tone was so calm it was almost sinister, you stare down at her your eyes piercing she suddenly started to cough it felt like someone was gripping her throat, you were doing it, with your mind. “Now, Madison I'm going to keep this very short and simple for you,” you tilted your head

“you can choose to leave the house or I can crush your windpipe, and have you die a second time." You smiled "hold up your fingers, option one or two?”

Madison, lips blue held up her index finger and you released your grip from her neck.

“I never wanna see anything like that again.” your glare intensified and you turned around to check on Kyle.

"stupid bitch"  Madison stood up, of course she tried to lunge at you but you're smarter than that, all it took was a slight raise of your hand and she was frozen mid air, you decided to keep her that way.

Kyle had balled himself into the corner, he was absolutely inconsolable, hitting his head with his hands as he sobbed

“Stupid, stupid, stupid” he repeated over and over again as his face only got redder and redder.

Your already broken heart had torn clean in half at the sight. You got down to his level 

“Kyle no, no no no no no” you whispered, grabbing his hands to stop him from bashing his own head

“Hey buddy, it’s y/n. You’re safe, just calm down for me." You tried to rub his back to comfort him, but you were suddenly surprised by his arms wrapping around you completely, as he sobbed into your shoulder, shaking.

“I'm sorry she did this to you, I got you. I got you." You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, trying to soothe him as he hid himself away in the crook of your neck, you could feel his muscles become less tense as you held him. He felt so warm, and his eyes were rimmed red and puffy, he obviously wasn't feeling very well.

"Let's get you into bed honey, you're exhausted." you rocked him back and forth, his cries had calmed down but his hold on you had not eased. You were very careful to lift him with your own body, you felt him tense back up as he realized Madison was still in the room although she was frozen his knees buckled, if you hadn't been holding him up he would've fell back down.

"...We'll put you in my bed tonight, is that okay?" you held his cheek in the palm of your hand while his big brown eyes met yours.

He nodded

"Y-y-y/n g-good." he pressed his forehead to yours.

you blinked a couple times, and nodded,

"I am good, I'm going to take care of you Kyle. okay? I won't let anyone else hurt you."

The blonde gave you a gentle smile, and held your hand as you lead him down the hall to your room.

(Part 2 )

[cassiefromhell]

Bats and Fire 03

"Hell"

read part one here or part two here

a/n: its back, bitches! also my requests are open now that im back at it, read my pinned for deets :)

warnings: blood, vomiting

wc: 3.6k

Ah, yes, the biannual cycle. It leaves females across the globe in agony… and you are no exception. However, it’s only five months into knowing your mates, and none of them have seen you during your period before. But that just changed!

Being the least busy out of your five mates, Lucien was the first to notice, when you didn’t come to the Autumn palace to say goodbye before your mission…

You’re curled in a ball, having not left your little townhouse by the shore, though you were supposed to leave four hours ago. The plan was to stop by Autumn, pick up travel food and a new weapon, say goodbye to Lucien and Eris, then head out to find a selkie and research it. The trip was to take two days, then you’d return to the Night Court and spend a few days there.

But you hadn’t left. You had seen the few dots of red in your underwear last night, but had felt nothing and convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad this time. This morning, the blood had soaked through the fabric stuffed into your underwear, through the sheets, and had left a pink stain on the mattress Rhys had just bought you.

You had managed to get up and clean yourself up, puking not once, but twice from the earth-shattering cramps ravaging your core, and gotten yourself settled in a comfortable chair with a bucket — just in case — and three blankets and a cup of pain relief tea.

So you are in pain, bleeding, hormonal, craving a shit ton of chocolate chip muffins, and a little bit high from the tea.

One of Azriel’s shadows lurks by the foot of the sofa. It looks like it’s begging to run back to its master and report your condition, but you give it a look. 

“If you so much as try to leave, I will step on you and I will ban Az from sending any of your little friends my way ever again,” you warn, eyes narrowing into a sharp glare.

The shadow curls up and admits defeat.

At least, it looks like that’s what’s happening.

But then a voice calls down the bond — Lucien. Lovely? Are you alright? Did you forget to come by? I’m sitting here with that new dagger you commissioned.

You consider your options. Tell him, and have him come here, to which he’ll either: freak out and call the others, panic and dote on you like an overbearing mother, or somehow, maybe be totally calm and cool and collected and helpful.

For Lucien… the man who you saw gag when you cleaned out a papercut… you doubt the last one would be plausible.

I’m fine, you lie, suppressing the feelings of suffering that try to creep down the bond as a cramp rocks your abdomen. I’m sore from training with Cassian yesterday. 

A two-minute pause, and then Cassian speaks down the bond. I didn’t train with you yesterday. Why did I just get a note from Lucien asking why I overdid it with you?

Tell him you trained with me. 

Too late, Cassian replies, with a mental shrug.

You sigh, groaning as Lucien re-enters the bond. 

Okay… so you lied. No big deal. But where are you, and are you okay?

Perfectly fine. I’m in my little townhouse in Dawn. Just needed a day of rest.

The Dawn townhouse is only used for a few situations. It’s a neutral zone between the two courts of Autumn and Night, so it’s perfect for when you’re either mad at a minimum of one mate in either court, or when you need a place to silently recover after being injured. They’ve caught you there before, stitching your own massive gashes and wounds with no help… so, naturally, mention of the Dawn townhouse is bound to raise suspicion. You curse yourself for mentioning it, because Lucien shortly responds.

On my way.

No need!

But then Lucien’s scent floods your nose, and footsteps come from down the hall. 

You take three more sips of your drugged brew, then call out softly. “Lucien, do not open that door.”

He whimpers softly, and there’s a little thud. “What did I do wrong? Are you mad at me? I haven’t heard anything from the cave bats, so why are you here?” 

“First of all, do not call them cave bats. Secondly, I am not mad at you. Nor am I injured. Just resting.”

“So why can‘t I come in?”

“Because you might not like what you see.”

Lucien pauses, and then the doorknob moves slightly. “You’re concerning me, I’m coming in.”

“Knock yourself out,” you grumble, tucking your blanket under your chin.

The door opens slowly, and Lucien peers in, immediately spotting you on the couch, all tucked in. “Oh, dear. Are you sick, kitten?”

But then he takes two more steps in, and inhales. He halts in his tracks, the tops of his pointed ears going bright red.

“Told you.”

“Oh— oh, uhm… uhm… okay… I see now,” he stops a few yards away, resting his hand on his hips and biting his lip. “I… uhm, well, it’s all natural, so—”

“I’m very aware of that, Lucie,” you reply, wincing as another cramp rips through you. You grip your abdomen, forcing down two more sips of tea.

He immediately is at your side (though he did fail to hide his gag at the scent of the blood) and cups your face in his hands. “What can I do? How can I, uhm, help? What do I do?” It’s hard to miss the obvious anxious tone he speaks with, eyes flicking around.

“Lucien, I’m okay on my own—” You’re interrupted by pain shooting up your spine, and have to stop your sentence or risk screaming.

“No, no, you’re not okay,” he stands, pacing the room, once, twice, and then looks back to you. “You need to be taken care of. I’m going to get Eris.”

You whine, sipping your tea and running a hand over your hair. “If you call Eris, then before you know it everyone will be here. I do not want to be coddled, do you understand me?”

“But I want to coddle—”

“Lucien.”

You don’t think you’ve called Lucien by his given name this many times in one day before. But your hormones are raging and you just can’t scrounge up the pet names you’d usually call him.

He frowns, but then shakes his head. “I’ll get Eris, and that’ll be it, okay? We’ll take care of you. If the cave bats—”

“LUCIEN.”

“—…If the Night Court brothers find out, it won’t be due to a lack of us trying.”

And you have no time to argue your case, because he’s already vanished.

Not even twenty minutes later, you pick up Lucien’s scent again, but this time it’s accompanied by Eris’s. They don’t enter your room immediately, because there’s an urgent conversation to be had…

“Lucien,” you pick up Eris’s voice, and there are no footsteps. “I’m sure you already know how a female’s period works?”

“What?” Lucien retorts, and there’s a scoff. “Of course I do.”

“So why did you wrinkle your damn nose when you entered this house?”

“Because the blood has a smell—”

“Lucien. It’s natural. It is going to happen to her every six months. You’re going to need to get used to this.”

You sigh, sinking deeper into your seat and sipping your now-cold tea. This is what you were afraid of. You know how squeamish Lucien can be.

“I know—”

“Don’t you sass me.”

“I am not sassing you, what are you on about?”

Taking the last sip of your tea, you place the mug on the ground. But without the drink by your face, a new scent fills your nose, and you gag.

“Quit fighting,” you call out. “The testosterone is going to make me puke.”

The two males fall silent for a moment, then Eris calls up. “We’ll be up in a moment, sweetheart.”

Then his voice drops into a murmur, and you really can’t make out what he’s saying. Nor do you care. You’ve really gotta drink this tea more often, because it does an excellent job at muting your care factor.

The door opens, and in comes the Autumn court brothers. Eris looks like he was called straight from a meeting, his hair combed back and all dressed up in a nice uniform. He’s in front of you in an instant, crouching in front of the sofa and taking one of your hands, kissing your knuckles.

“How are you feeling, little flame?” He coos, running his fingers along your jaw.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” you reply, drily.

Eris narrows his eyes, and pulls on the skin of your temple slightly. “Are you… are you high?”

“It’s the tea. It’s drugged.”

His eyes widen, and he picks up the empty mug, giving it a sniff. He coughs immediately, plugging his nose. “How did you even get this?”

You shrug, offering a lazy smile. “Mor. It’s common practice in Vallahan, she says.”

Lucien comes over, taking the mug from Eris. He also gives it a sniff, winces, and then heads off towards the kitchen to dispose of it.

Eris sighs, getting up off the floor. “Scooch. Let me see if I can act as a source of heat. It’s good for—”

“Eris, I know what heat is good for.”

He slides onto the couch beside you, pulling you to his chest and placing his warm hands on your abdomen, his warmth seeping into your skin.

It immediately starts to relieve the cramping pain of your period, your body singing with delight at the sensation. With a soft sigh, your eyes start to droop, after having woken up criminally early.

“Rest for me, little flame,” Eris murmurs against your hair, tucking your head against his neck.  

Just as you start to drift off, the edges of the world blurring, Lucien re-enters the room, and his scent mixed with lavender and honey fills the room. 

“I brought more tea,” he says, stepping closer.

But your stomach suddenly churns at the mix of scents, and just then, a breeze comes through the partly opened window, and there’s another smell of just male and—

And it’s over for you.

Eris holds the bucket in front of you just in time, and you upheave the contents of your stomach.

“Take the tea away,” Eris scolds, all while holding back your hair and rubbing your back. “S’alright, love. I’m here, you’re okay.”

As soon as you’re sure you’re finished, you lean back against Eris once more, returning to basking in his endless warmth.

The High Lord makes his younger brother take the vomit bucket away, and you’re finally, finally, able to start drifting off again…

Cassian slips in through the window, his wing getting caught on the frame once, twice, and then he unlatches. 

He sniffs the air, and frowns, getting hit with the scent of blood and faintly, vomit. He’s smelled it on Mor far too many times, and scowls when he realizes that you’re not alone.

You and Eris haven’t moved an inch, and you’re nestled in his arms, both fast asleep, cuddled up on the sofa. Lucien lounges on the floor beside you two, awake but looking like he hasn’t slept in years. He glances at the clock as Cassian enters, frowning.

“The fuck are you doing here at six in the morning?” Lucien hisses, baring his teeth at the Illyrian.

“I’m no idiot. I know that I didn’t train with her the other day, and you asked me why she was so sore,” Cassian scowls, walking in and heading straight for you.

“If you wake her, so help me—”

But it’s too late. Your eyes slide open, and you look around, eyes landing on Cassian. “Mm… what are you doing here?”

Cassian pushes Lucien to the side, and kneels in front of you. “Well, I knew something was wrong, and Rhys and Az didn’t know, and these two bozos weren’t responding to my notes, so—”

“Would you let her sleep?” Eris grumbles, now having been awoken from his own slumber.

Cassian frowns. “She woke up on her own.”

“That’s not true,” Lucien chimes in.

“She doesn’t want you here.”

“What? Of course she wants me here,” Cassian snarls, turning to look at you again. “I’ll take care of you better than they can. I’ll get my brothers, and—”

“No,” you and Lucien say at the same time, and then you continue alone. “I don’t want a crowd. I feel sick enough as it is. It’ll get worse with you five bickering and emitting scents and shit.”

Cassian pouts, his wings dropping a little. “I can’t keep this from them. They need to know you’re unwell.”

“Could take you to Autumn,” Eris murmurs to you, brushing hair out of your face. “Then they’ll have to request a visit. And I’ll deny them.”

“Don’t you go spewing that bullshit—”

“Keep your voice down—”

“Well she’s already fucking awake—”

“Because of you!”

You sigh, closing your eyes and trying to tune out the bickering of the three. You quickly fail, and wince as another cramp makes your abdomen tense up. 

“Muffins,” you say, and the fighting instantly stops.

“What was that, kitten?” Lucien asks, reaching up to run a warm hand over your knee, under the blanket.

“I want muffins. Chocolate chip. Cassian, you’re on muffin duty.”

Cassian brightens a little, like a bored puppy being given a task, and is out the window in seconds.

“Lucien, you get me more drugged tea.”

Lucien frowns, opening his mouth to protest, but you’re not having it.

“It’s good for the pain. Go.”

Pouting, he vanishes into a cloud of winnow smoke.

Eris looks at you expectantly, but you shake your head. “You stay. You’re on heating pad duty, and I need a hot bath.”

He grins, kissing your cheek gently and standing up, taking you and your blanket with him. “That, that I can do.”

Cassian can’t keep a fucking secret. Not when he is consistently in close proximity of a spymaster and a daemati…

You were laying with Lucien, reading while he acted as a source of heat, when it came. Eris was attending to his High Lord duties, and Cassian was out searching for a specific kind of bread you were craving.

But a second shadow came, creeping over to you and prodding at your ankle, then your calf, wrapping around you. It was checking you.

“Fuck,” you swore, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hmm?” Lucien hummed, then spotted the thing. “Is that…”

“Yes. Yes, it is,” you sighed, reaching down and letting the shadow dance up your arm. “Did your master send you here? Does he know?”

The shadow tightened around your bicep, stroked your neck, and then slunk back into a dark corner.

“How long do we have?” Lucien asked, running a hand over your hair.

“Not long,” you grumbled.

And so here you are, sitting alone after having sent Lucien out on a book run, waiting for your other two mates to arrive. 

Because you know they’re coming.

And they do. The scents of jasmine and cedar hit your nose at the same time, followed by the creaking of your squeaky front door opening.

A muffled voice drifts up from downstairs. “One day, you need to oil that door. I’ll distract her while you do it.” Rhysand’s cool tone sounds, followed by a deep chuckle.

“But she says it ‘adds to the old times atmosphere’,” Azriel responds, just as their footsteps on the stairs start to reach you.

You straighten up, neatly put a lovely research book in your lap, and act like your organs aren’t being ripped to shreds by a million invisible claws.

A knock comes on your door, and you sigh softly.

“I knew I wouldn’t get away with it for long,” you say softly, admitting your defeat. But hey, two days was impressive.

Your door cracks open, and a violet eye peers in, followed by your two mates entering.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Rhysand pouts immediately, coming to your bedside and taking your hand to kiss it.

“I didn’t want the chaos of five mates here,” you grumble, pouting right back.

Azriel wordlessly slips into your bed beside you, lifting the covers off of you. Within moments, you are practically encased in shadows.

“Are you seriously—”

“They’re just checking that you’re okay.”

“It’s a period for the Mother’s sake—”

“Which leaves you here bleeding and in pain,” Rhysand coos, reaching over to stroke your hair, your head being the only part of you not encased in shadows.

“I am perfectly fine.”

“Of course you’re not,” Azriel scowls, his shadows retreating — except for a few that prefer to stay curled in your lap like a cat. “You’re in pain. I can feel it in the bond, now that you’re nearby.”

Rhysand’s pout deepens into a frown, and he gives you a short peck on the lips. “I’ve called for Madja, she’ll be here tomorrow morning. She should have something for this.”

You shrug, but go with it. Meanwhile, Azriel gets to work on rubbing your feet, and Rhysand sits behind you, letting his starlight escape a little and wrap around your abdomen. It’s not hot like Eris or Lucien are, but it’s not cold either. It does help a bit, however.

You accept your fate of being doted on, leaning back and settling down with a soft sigh.

All of your mates insist on being there when Madja comes.

It starts with the night court trio wanting to be there, because they know her, but then Lucien and Eris have the urge to be there because they don’t know her. Great times…

You may be a little nervous for your visit with a new healer, who you’re not even sure why you’re seeing, but at least you’re being treated like a queen.

Eris has resumed his heating pad duties, so he sits behind you with a pile of paper at his side, using magic to make a pen write his thoughts to get his High Lord paperwork done.

Lucien sits to the left of you, sipping a mug of coffee and reading something, a hand resting on your thigh. He’s been put on food duty today, making sure your cravings are being fulfilled. And also keeping a bucket nearby. On your other side is Cassian, who has his head resting on your knees, half asleep from a reportedly ‘very intense’ training session at the crack of dawn that morning.

Rhysand sits down by your feet, massaging swelling away from your ankles. Azriel sits at the other end of the bed to Rhysand’s left, reading a book. His shadows are all over you this morning. One is currently acting as a hair tie to keep your locks high up in a bun.

Rhys straightens up a little, and his eyes go vacant. Then he smiles softly. “Madja is here.”

Moments later, the older female is by your side, a wrinkled hand resting on your abdomen. Although your mates were forced to all abdicate the bed, they’re all watching from varying distances… Eris being the closest, Cassian the farthest. And the sleepiest.

“Hmm, I can certainly sense your pain. Does your body always react this way?”

You wince as she puts pressure on your stomach. “Yes. This time around it’s a little more painful, though. More nausea.”

“It’s likely because of the bonds.”

Eris’s brows shoot up. “The bonds? Why would we have anything to do with this?”

Madja sighs, and reaches into her briefcase, pulling out a small velvet pouch. “Her body is overwhelmed with the new strings, and it’s affecting her cycle. Simple as that.”

She reaches into the pouch, and her fingers come back shimmering with something golden, and she reaches for your arm. 

You pull back instinctively. “What is that? Is that—”

“Give me your arm,” Madja frowns, gesturing for you to hold it out.

You edge away more. “What the fuck is the shimmery shit?”

Madja grabs your arm, but Eris is there faster, gripping the older woman’s wrist within seconds. “What is the powder,” His voice comes out as more of a command than anything else.

“Oh, would you calm down,” Rhys hisses.

Madja sighs, holding up the gold powder. “It’s just Nevermore, it’ll help with the pain—“

But you can practically feel the snap go off in your head, because Nevermore is a fucking drug and you do not want to be fucking drugged and who is this lady and why the fuck are you so ANGRY—

“Out.”

That one word, combined with the sharp tone of your voice and the anger seeping into your bonds, has Eris and Lucien getting Madja out.

“Dear,” Azriel starts, coming to your side quickly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nevermore is strong enough to fucking stupefy me, that’s what’s wrong!” You shout, unable to contain the sharp growing anger. “You can’t just drug a female!” 

And now you’re crying. And the anger dissipates and you’re left sobbing in the middle of your bed, because you’re a bitch who kicked an old lady out.

Before you can even register it, all five mates are around you, stroking your hair and wiping away your tears and snuggling you.

You end up completely entangled in all of them by the time you calm down, tired and puffy-eyed.

And as you sit there, you soak in all the different scents, and the warmth, and you’re able to forget a little bit of the pain, a little bit of the misery.

Because you are loved.

And love overpowers all.

But also you’re still in hell. 

And you still hurt like hell.

So it’s like, a 50/50 fix for ya.

look i can remember tags! @awoa1 @llovelydove @bookishbroadwaybish @maddietheshoe @eerievixen @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @cleverzonkwombatsludge @hyemishii @caro-lightwood-blog @the-sweet-psycho @myheartfollower

comment and ask to be added to the tag list! and if you commented before and weren't added, oopsies... ask again pls :)

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

I think the best argument against "He didnt have a choice" ( i think this is why choice is rhysands favorite word 🥴) is you're right, he didn't. The AUTHOR did. Sjm had a choice and still she went for the worst and more illogical one. She still decides to put the women in her series under awful situations without further consequences. I really dislike phrases like "my characters wanted me to write them that way" or "my characters lead the story". Im always yes this is a romantic way to see the writing process but ill never forget this author who said "my characters do whatever the hell I want them to do".

hi anon!!!! (sorry this is a super old anon that i actually finished writing a while ago sorry nonny💙. can’t think of anything to say so im just posting old stuff in my drafts today 🫶🏾)

i agree! its a problem on multiple different levels. for one, sjm often relies on telling the audience what we should get out of a scene, instead of what allowing us to form our own takeaways. its a very hand-holding type of storytelling; in consequence, the 'evidence' being derived is often contradictory to actual events. like the story can argue that "change is slow," and thats why illyria and the con persist, but that statement is consistently proven to be incorrect.

lets look at how invalid the idea of 'change is slow is'

in one year - feyre is able to become high lady, effectively creating an entirely new governing system, in which, a high lord can give a person absolute power of the court (remember - what feyre and rhysand say is 'law'). there is no process, no objection, or any fear of reprimand. rhys doesn't even have to consult his second-in-command. not only that - but feyre is also allowed power over the court of nightmares, which politically, is supposedly an entirely different governing state. again - keir and devlon are not consulted about this.

it took six months to produce to first illyrian female warrior to complete the rite in history. in the span of six months - emerie completes the rite. thats more illyrian women than rhys, az, and cass's entire 300-400 year reign.

it takes feyre less than a month to completely cause an entire court to fall - yet regimes such as tam's father, beron, and amarantha somehow persisted as long as they despite them being canonically worse rulers. even - and i mean even - if tamlin was the worst leader to have ever walked this earth, it would still take more than three to four weeks. and factoring in that this is a population of immortal, canonically 'slow-to-change' individuals.......

like - how slow can the change actually be? how can the book possibly explain how such drastic changes happen from book to book but not in 400 years? how come there have been no illyrian women in the army or in the rite if cassian and rhys have earnestly been working with the females in illyria? even the few moments we see them at illyria, they still seem to be at a rudimentary level; there's no established female training areas, no veteran trainees, no consequences for breaking the law in regards to the females...there's nothing that suggests any actual measures have been taken.

that's just one example of 'canon' statements acting in contradiction the previously established pieces of information. more - its a consistent pattern of contradiction in regards to certain characters. its their natural characterization acting against the forced narrative voice.

and this makes it problem on mulitiple fronts.

and even more, off the point you made about the women in her stories - i think there needs to be a larger conversation had about the patterns of female violence in these books; specifically the role that female violence plays in establishing sexual tension and relationships in general. or...the amount of times the female protagonist has to undergo some extreme form of humiliation at the behest of future love interest; there's an utter lack of this with the men.

sjm is a very intentional author - these problems exist because of how intentional she is as a writer. i know exactly the function of each scene, exactly what emotion the she wants me to feel. this is not because these characters are written well, but because we are often just told it. feyre can 'express' disdain for rhysand'a actions, but she often undermines her own inner thoughts about the issue. feyre’s inner thoughts are often abuse apologist 101 and in retrospect it’s kind of painful the way she consistently makes excuses for rhys, even when it’s her well-being being threatened and undermined. and that’s honestly bc sjm’s narrative voice supersedes the natural characterization of her characters. sjm doesn’t know how to organically create conflict between characters she actually likes bc she doesn’t know how to write conflict. it’s a consistent pattern in her series and it’s why all the villains suck and all battles ultimately fall flat.

but the problem becomes a bit broader (i.e. this is a larger issue in publishing and literary crit). some of the arguments that i see often, and that i referenced in my last post are these:

"why read this this book if you don't like the characters?" "why continue to read the book if you don't like it?" "this is a book about fairy porn - why are you analyzing it." "i read for fun." (this is not a bad statement, but it becomes troublesome in the context i will explain)

the commonality between these statements is that they are avoidant. often, they are employed when people can't explain away the amounting problems in the series, so they avoid the conversation.

because for one, you should never (and I means NEVER) say that a piece of literature should not be analyzed. or that fantasy negates interrogation into harmful themes. that’s just anti intellectual nonsense. second, if we’re arguing about real world issues bc of the book; of if your argument is that tamlin is abusive bc he did abusive things, then you literally can’t make this argument. the whole point of moving from tam is bc he was…abusive. abuse is not a fantasy. regardless of what the author intends, if a character is abusive or does absuive things, we should be looking at that.

look…if you are defending rhys using the logic the book establishes please have it. but the moment you implicate real-world values into this story, you’ve got to see it to the end. the same goes for the series as a whole: the second maf decided to integrate a ‘domestic violence plot lines’ specifically referring to behaviors as ‘red flags’ it immediately kind of gave up the kind of distance the fantasy romance genre usually gives to such issues.

[apriciticreveries]

rock ( @rockwgooglyeyes ) is telling me to give into the voices, and the voices are telling me to listen to rock . . ill listen to rock .

lolol introducing this girl !

( heads up that this post is veeeery long )

————————————————————————————————————————————————————

. . so . . yeagh, she’s just “ this girl “ for now, since i can’t settle on a name . . which are on the canvas . . though i am open to any other ideas ! ( don’t mind how crowded it is . also i dare someone to try and read the mountain of notes i have )

the options for her name would be, astrid ( meaning divinely beautiful, also a side note that im kinda doubtful of this one since literally 2 of my characters already have a names ), zhuli ( meaning pearl in chinese ), and then just . . modesty . yeah that could be a name . ( to me at least )

ill let you guys pick since im indecisive and cannot trust my own opinion :

anyways, now for the idea i was talking about in my original post hinting her ( im so sorry in advance rock this is probably a lot more lamer then what you had in mind )

basically, she would instead be training in anakt to be an announcer / commentator instead of an actual contestant . ( announcer as in the one shown at 2 : 15 in round 1 )

i imagine she’d mainly announce rounds, but also other things like updates on round schedules or whatever alnst needs her to say relating to the competition .

even though im pretty sure anakt doesn’t train for that kind of stuff, and probably just casts a random human as the role, what i had in mind to solve this was that anakt did train humans for the role in their earlier years, until they started to find it unnecessary and stopped doing it a few years before the 50 th alien stage came up .

one of my main ideas relating to the training ( that i need to get out or else ill just . forget . ), is that girlie would have special or different classes from her peers, and as a result, was often isolated from them and alone . even when she would have extra time to go to the garden and potentially interact with the others, she doesn’t . she doesn’t know how to, and often just observes them from afar instead .

she’d also maybe be pop up in a few of the normal classes, but other then that, i don’t think she’d be seen a lot .

another smol piece of her lore that i have, is that even before anakt, she didn’t interact with other humans often . ( kinda like @bluemoonscape’s tallis ? ) this leads to her struggle to interact with her classmates . she was often regifted between others, and never got to know others quite well because of her lack of time with them .

she was also sold at a high price ( at first ), for her “ rare “ physical appearance ( having 2 hair colors, two skin colors ( vitiligo ), and having both kinda complete ( im really not sure . one of her eye colors is a full color, and the other is two different colors ) and sectoral heterochromia )

but yeagh . that sums up what im thinking for now : 3 i dont have a lot of her lore pinned down right now, and im also still trying to figure out her themes in appearance and personality, so nothings official really official, except for the stuff i was talking about .

[majimasleftasscheek]

Hi, im very sorry if this has already been answered or established somewhere else but im curious, with your Kazumaji stuff, around what time did they start dating (i.e. after the events of Yakuza 0 and all that) and how?

tbh, I dunno!

I don't really have an established date for that cuz sometimes I'm like man they'd be really cute during y0 and then other times I set it between post y0 and the beginning of y1. The latest they would start me thinks is some months after the events of y1 but in general it sorta depends on how I'm feeling and what silly scenarios play in my head

ideas under the cut tho 👀

if we're talking y0: I like to think Kiryu has to go to Sotenbori for some reason, be it business or he's there with Nishiki for some partying. he sees Majima at the Grand being depressed and is like "damn girl those bags under your eyes makes my dick go *boing sound effect*" and asks him out 🥺 Kiryu gets rejected immediately cuz Majima's in this cycle of 'I deserve nothing but pain and suffering' but Kiryu can't read the room so he is persistently showing up at the Grand despite Majima very obviously wanting to kick his ass. eventually he relents and goes on cute™ dates with Kiryu and realizes oof maybe human intimacy be kinda gucci

if between y0 and y1: Majima's fresh in his mad dog era starting shit with people just to be annoying and Kiryu's one of his targets mainly due to the events of y0. he's kinda like "lol this goober really did some important plot stuff, huh?" and his curiosity gets the better of him because Kiryu is an enigma who eats bugs and Majima cannot suppress his need to get some sense of understanding on this weirdo. in this timeline, it's more one-sided affection from Majima that comes in the form of stabbing while Kiryu is desperately trying to fight the gay allegations and failing. eventually he caves but it's a sorta unofficial, on and off thing that Kiryu doesn't really know how to evaluate for himself. Majima doesn't really care what they are since he's high on life atm and has a cute dude with big boobs on his arm

if during y1: literally just everything Majima Everywhere. Goromi. GOROMI 😩💦 Kiryu is all: I LIKE PUSSY but everyone's like okay big man then why's Majima pole dancing for you huh. the two braincells he has start to click and he realizes maybe Majima wants to hold hands or something unthinkable like that. ngl I like to think Kiryu's thing for Yumi is like a demisexual bi thing where he's like, I do love her but she don't zap my brain quite like the bowlcut freak who knows how to punch me real good and it becomes sorta his personal introspective journey during this time. Majima is also floating in the space of am I doing this for his benefit cuz "training" or am I falling for this dork. he's pretty sad about it cuz of the Saejima reminder vibes but eventually Kiryu falls into his own person that Majima really meshes with and the two of them struggle to actually voice how they feel all the while their pants are down in some dirty alley

if after y1: (going to insert shit from a fic I'm working on) Kiryu's absolutely devastated with what happened in the Millennium Tower + now having to take care of Haruka that he's shut himself off from everyone and everything other than doing the bare minimum to live. in comes Majima being a menace like yo you can't like, let a child parent herself you gotta get outta this slump and Kiryu's all fuck you stop breaking into my house. so it's a long pain in the ass process to help Kiryu deal with his grief while Majima keeps unintentionally making googoo eyes at him and both of them are like boy I sure hope this doesn't awaken anything within me. there's also a lotta dadjima stuff going on and Kiryu's like wowie zowie so you do have a heart and Majima's like no way loser while being just 😳👉👈

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 15)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Azriel has a tough decision to make

warnings: Night Court slander, semi graphic torture, Rhysand is horrible, the usual

word count: 5.8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: oh my god i am so so so sorry this took so long! life has been insane lately i havent had the energy to write. Anywho, this chapter is just the start of something super big so buckle up and look for hints hehe alsO PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK ON THIS CHAPTER IM BEGGING

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

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AZRIEL POV

Azriel couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of your limp body, arms strung up like you were a piece of meat dangling from the chains. He had thought himself to be good at shutting off his emotions when it came to his line of work, but this felt different. Wrong, even. It confused him – not once had he ever hesitated, ever even considered disobeying his High Lord’s orders down in these dungeons.

Your hair was matted and lifeless around your face, the weak rise and fall of your chest being the only indication that you were even still alive. The beautiful gown that adorned your body at the ball was now tattered and dirty, barely clinging onto your skin in some places. Azriel gulped as he stared at your unconscious form, wiped out from Rhysand’s attempts to penetrate your mind.

Evidently, the High Lord was beyond frustrated, his brow furrowed and sweaty from the efforts. “I’ve never seen this,” He muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “Not once. I’ve always been able to get inside people’s heads. Why not hers?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel responded. He felt his shadows curl around his scarred fingers. Normally they did so to encourage him to get the job done, but this time felt different. It was as if they wanted him not to end your life, but to reach out and free you from the shackles. But he ignored them.

Rhys slumped against the wall, panting slightly. “I need answers, Az.” He snapped, voice sharp. “How is this girl able to withstand my magic? And how the hell did she access some ancient spell that allowed this bond to form with Nesta? I would prefer to know before I end things, so whatever shit she may have put in motion can be stopped.”

Azriel stiffened. “End things?

The High Lord sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Azriel. You know this is how it has to end. She spent months plotting against our court, and possesses some form of magic within her bond with Nesta. She’s a threat and you know it. And threats like that must be eliminated.”

He spoke with that authoritative voice that Azriel had seen bring so many others to their knees in obedience. He felt it tug at his bones, the instinct to obey his High Lord. Azriel had always considered himself loyal, never needing that extra kick to submit to his superior. Until now. “I disagree.” Azriel said sternly. “(Y/N) has lied, yes. But she has shown no signs of intending to inflict harm upon this court. All she wanted was to get out, and she knew we wouldn’t let her.”

“I don’t recall you being this blind, brother.” Rhysand’s voice was low as his violet eyes sternly stared down his spymaster. “Did she flash you her tits during training sessions? Is that why you’ve suddenly gone soft?”

“No. I think we pushed her too hard, too fast into this job she did not want. She had already lost everything in the Spring Court, and when Lucien brought her here she immediately became a prisoner. Did you expect her to bow at your feet and be eternally grateful for letting her stay here? We should have given her a reason to want to become a part of this court, not force her into it within a span of months.”

Rhysand let out a growl, and Azriel knew he was pushing his limits. “Careful, Az.” He said. But Azriel ignored him.

“Can you blame her for resenting us?” The shadowsinger continued, against his better judgement. “Our High Lady destroyed her court, and when Lucien brought her here she was forced to live indebted to the female who allowed her home to be ruined.”

There was a low rumble within the cell as Rhysand’s dark mist began to creep out from behind him. “Choose your next words wisely, Azriel. Or I’ll begin to think you’ve helped her.”

“I didn’t, and you know it. But your protectiveness for your mate is clouding your judgement as a leader, Rhysand. This girl does not deserve to die for what she has done.”

Before he could breathe another word, a sharp pain cut through his throat as Rhys’ dark power wrapped around it, cutting off his air. Shock flooded through him, hazel eyes bulging as the violet eyed male snarled at him. He didn’t try to fight back. Not once had his brother gone this far – sure, they had their fair share of nasty fights, but never like this. No matter how angry they had gotten with each other, neither had ever threatened the life of the other. Until now.

“That is not your call to make, spymaster.” Rhysand snarled furiously. “I am your High Lord before anything else, and you are sworn to me. My word is law, not yours. You will go and search for more insight into this bond between her and Nesta. Whether you find anything on it or not, (Y/N) will die by your hand at dawn tomorrow. You will not protest, and you will not breathe a word about this to anyone. If I sense even for a second that you will disobey me, I will throw you in a cell beside this scheming whore. Am I understood?”

Azriel nodded as best he could, body still frozen in shock. After a moment, Rhysand’s tendrils finally retreated, leaving the spymaster gasping for air. Despite working alongside him, being the executioner to his master for over 500 years, Azriel had never known what it was to be like on the receiving end of his High Lord’s pure fury until now. He glanced over at your strung-up figure, guilt churning in his gut. You had endured this torture for days, a torture Azriel only received a glimpse of.

As the spymaster inhaled deeply kneeling on the cold floor, his shadows whispered to him. He knew deep down that he had a choice to make, one like never before. 500 years of loyalty to Rhysand was being put to the test, something Azriel never thought would happen. Another glance at how intensely Rhys was staring at your imprisoned, starved form was all he needed to winnow away.

*********************

Azriel’s throat still burned from the pressing of Rhys’ dark mist. He kept his demeanour calm as he approached the doors to the library at the House of Wind, even though his stomach was in a thousand knots. He knew what he was about to do was treason at the highest order, and the second Rhys found out he would be flayed alive. The clenching and unclenching of his scarred fingers was the only indication of his disturbance as the spymaster was met with Clotho. Her pale robes shone in the blue light of the library as she approached him.

Shadowsinger, Her elegant writing appeared on the paper in lieu of her voice. What can I do for you?

“I need to see Gwyneth.” Azriel said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice to not alarm the priestess.

Gwyn is occupied right now. May I take a message?

He gulped nervously. “I’m really sorry, Clotho. But I need her right now.”

That will not be possible. I suggest you return at another time, Azriel.

“Please.” Azriel hated begging, and hated pushing the priestess even more. But before Clotho could script a reply, a gentle voice sounded from behind the shelves a few metres away.

“Azriel?” Gwyn’s red hair appeared, streaming down her flowing robes as she carried an alarming amount of books. “What are you doing here?”

“Gwyn, I need to speak with you in private. Right now.” He pleaded, hoping Clotho wouldn’t shoo him away.

Gwyn’s teal eyes were puzzled, but she nodded. “It’s alright Clotho.” The priestess merely nodded beneath her hood before turning and disappearing back into the stacks.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief as Gwyn put down the books. She walked towards one of the offices, and he followed her in silence. The room was tense as she closed the door behind him.

She crossed her arms, which made him halt. Normally his interactions with Gwyn were pleasant, leaving his shadows singing happily afterwards. But the way she was staring at him with a hardened glare made him want to shrink back.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Gwyn said sharply.

Azriel took a deep breath, unsure of how to approach this. He didn’t know what version of that night at the Hewn City had reached the ears of the priestesses. “Gwyn–”

“Don’t bullshit me for one second, Azriel.” The redhead was unyielding, but he could see the anxiousness within her as her throat bobbed with every word. “Nesta left for Autumn with Eris, but (Y/N) never returned from the Hewn City that night. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything–” He started, but Gwyn cut him off abruptly.

“I said don’t bullshit me, you fucking liar!” Her voice rose, long fingers clenching and trembling with anger. It was enough to make Azriel take a step back, shocked at the fire within her. “I heard you grabbed her and whisked her away that night. What the hell did you do to my friend?”

Azriel leaned against the desk, wiping his face with his hand. His heart cracked a bit, knowing that trust and companionship he had built with Gwyn while training had come crashing down. He hated himself for it, for being so blind in following orders that led him to this place. His loyalty to Rhysand came at a price, one he had always been willing to pay until now. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was following orders.”

“What is wrong with you?” Gwyn hissed, her words cutting him sharper than Rhysand’s magic had. “You took away her one chance of leaving this gods damned court peacefully. You took away her freedom out of stupid, blind loyalty.”

“How did you know what happened that night?”

She snorted. “You and your little circle like to treat us priestesses like we’re these fragile little flowers living in our own little shelter, oblivious to the outside world. But people talk, and word reaches us. We aren’t as ignorant to the court as you think we are.”

“I never said that you were.”

“You basically just did.”

Shame washed over Azriel. He knew she was right, that he was a prick in assuming the priestesses remained clueless to what was happening in the court right now. And that’s why Clotho had been hesitant to let him into the library. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“Well, it did. Now tell me where my friend is, and why you’re here.”

Azriel took a breath, preparing to utter the words that would make this decision the point of no return. “I need everything you have on the bond between (Y/N) and Nesta.”

A flicker of worry crossed Gwyn’s teal eyes. “I don’t know anything–”

“Yes, you do.” Azriel interrupted her calmly. “My guess is you knew about their plan as well. Otherwise you’d be a lot more freaked out by Nesta marrying Eris.”

As panic began to set into the priestess’ face, Azriel softened his voice. “It’s ok, I’m not going to tell anyone. It makes sense that any information that Nesta and (Y/N) got on the bond was through you and your work. You are not in trouble, and nobody will hear from me that you helped them. I just need every scrap of information you were able to get your hands on regarding whatever magic they used.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you can give it to your master like a good dog playing fetch? Not gonna happen. He’ll use it to hurt both of them. I don’t care that he’s the High Lord, I won’t let him do that.”

Azriel stood up and took a step towards Gwyn. She didn’t shrink back, but rather lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Gwyn,” He began. “That’s not what this is. I’m not retrieving this information for Rhysand.”

The priestess blinked once, as if considering the gravity of his words. He wished he could spill the truth and tell Gwyn what he planned to do, but just uttering those words directly to her would put her at risk. “Then who are you retrieving it for?”

“Look, I am not trying to hide anything from you. But I told you… if you knew the truth, I would be putting you at risk for selfish reasons. And after all I have done, that is something I cannot live with. You just have to trust me when I say that it is for the right reason.”

“After hearing about how you so quickly stole (Y/N) away, I’m not sure if we have the same definition of the right reason, Azriel.” Gwyn’s voice was bitter, but there was a sadness to it that made the guilt churning inside of him threaten to spill over.

“I understand.” He said quietly. “And you have no reason to trust me right now. But please… if you’ve ever had any faith in me at all…just….just know that I’m doing this for (Y/N). And Nesta. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

Silence overtook the room, the shadowsinger and the priestess standing mere inches from each other. After a long few minutes Gwyn muttered a ‘stay here’ before quickly fleeing the office.

She returned 15 minutes later with a few sheets of parchment paper and several books. They were placed upon the dusty table, and Gwyn took a deep breath. “This is everything I have on the subject,” She said shakily. “It’s not much, but it’s every document that could possibly give anything away about the bond between them.”

Without thinking, Azriel dropped to his knees in relief, bowing his head. “Thank you, Gwyn. Thank you.” His entire body was on the verge of shaking as the weight of what he was about to do began to truly set in. Everything he had known and defended was about to be put on the line.

“Promise me this, Azriel.” Gwyn spoke coldly. “Promise that this information gets into the right hands, not the wrong ones. You do whatever it takes to help my girls. After everything you and your family have done to them, you owe them that much. And more.”

“I swear it.” Azriel said solemnly, still looking at the ground. In a flash, he felt a cold blade pressing against his jaw, tilting his head upwards to gaze at the priestess. She looked like a goddess of justice, staring down at him with icy eyes.

“And I swear this to you,” Gwyn said coldly, a silver dagger in hand. “If you screw this up and they pay the price for it, no power in the world will stop me from hurting you. I don’t care that you trained me, or that you saved me on that day Hybern came. I will cut your throat if anything happens to Nesta or (Y/N) because of you. Understood?”

Azriel was enthralled at her strength. This was not the shy, nervous priestess that he had rescued from Hybern’s soldiers. Gwyn’s bravery had excelled since the second she stepped into the ring, and Azriel had marvelled at her progress during training, how comfortable she became with the outside world. Stupidly, he had credited that to his and Cassian’s training, thinking that it was what Gwyn, Nesta and the others had needed to heal like he and Cassian had. No, this strength had nothing to do with what he taught her. Behind her stern expression, Azriel knew that deep down this strength had come from the friendship formed with you, Nesta, and Emerie. He had been a fool to see it as anything other than that.

“I’m proud of you, Gwyn.” Azriel said softly before his brain could shut him up.

Despite the flicker of surprise across her face, she did not yield. “I do not need your validation. I need you to do the right thing and help my friends. Only after that will your statement be worth anything to me.”

Gwyn removed the blade from the spymaster’s throat and turned on her heel. Like a ghost in the wind, she was gone. Azriel’s chest was tight as he stood up, collecting the documents in his arms and praying that this possibly very stupid decision would be worth it. But after seeing the anger on Gwyn’s face, the hurt he had caused without even realising it…. Azriel knew exactly what he needed to do as he winnowed away.

*********************

The door in front of Azriel opened before he could raise a hand to knock, revealing the redhead male with a golden eye wide with surprise.

“Azriel?” Lucien said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Was all he said in response before pushing his way past Lucien into the manor.

“By all means, come in.” The male muttered sarcastically.  But Azriel paid it no mind as he scanned the large living room for any sign of Jurian and Vassa.

“I’m alone.” Lucien quipped, settling down on the large brown armchair by the fireplace. “Since that’s what you were trying to figure out. I’m surprised you came by before (Y/N). I thought she’d have visited already, but I guess she’s been enjoying Velaris too much to be slumming it down in the human lands. When you see her next, thank her for the scarf for me, will you?”

Azriel’s heart dropped, head whipping sharply towards Azriel. “What?” He didn’t even bother keeping the surprise out of his voice.

Lucien frowned. “The scarf she gave me for the solstice? Rhys delivered it a day or so after, said she was busy on a new mission and asked him to drop it off for her.”

“Rhys was here?” Dread pooled in Azriel’s stomach. His High Lord was ensuring your disappearance would be quiet, giving him time to create a cover story before eliminating you.

“Yes… Why do you look so concerned? What aren’t you telling me?”

Azriel put his head in his hands, cursing. “You have no idea what’s been going on, have you?”

Lucien was still as a statue as he spoke. “I haven’t heard from (Y/N) since I got to the manor. When Rhysand visited, he said she had picked out a scarf for me as a present, and that she was sorry she hadn’t visited, but that she was loving her life in Velaris. And that she was training under you to work for the Night Court as a spy.”

Any desire to be secretive flew out the window as Azriel explained everything to the Autumn male – how you were not freely living in Velaris, but locked away with Nesta in the House of Wind. Your time spent back at the Spring Court to spy on your own people. Nesta’s engagement to Eris as a cover to escape the Night Court. Lucien was usually a collected male in Azriel’s eyes, but he could see the disbelief and anger in his expression as he told him the truth. When he was done, Lucien leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, speaking in a low voice. “So you’re telling me that you locked away my best friend, and everything I’ve heard about her for these past few months has been a lie.” Lucien said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Azriel said quietly. “And now I’m trying to fix it–”

“Fucking hell!” Lucien exclaimed sharply, standing up abruptly and pacing back and forth. “Your court is a fucking shitshow, you know that? How the fuck can you let this happen, Azriel? You’re so far up Rhysand’s ass you didn’t see any of this coming?”

“I understand you’re angry–”

“Oh angry doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Lucien hissed, his red hair gleaming in the light of the fire. “You played right into Rhys’ hands, and now (Y/N) is being tortured in a cell somewhere because you let it happen instead of growing a fucking spine. And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the fact that Nesta was treated so horribly by you people she was willing to marry ERIS out of all people just to get away from it.”

Azriel had no defence. Defeated, he hung his head. Lucien was right about everything, and it was made worse by the fact Rhysand lied about your status to him knowing that the Autumn male was the only one likely to try and do something to stick up for you.

“Now what I can’t figure out is why you’re telling me this.” Lucien folded his arms, glaring at the spymaster. “You’re either betraying Rhysand and trying to fix this mess, which is brave but incredibly stupid. Or you’ve come here to see if I somehow had anything to do with all this so you can hang me up in a cell next to (Y/N). Which is it, shadowsinger?”

”I need your help.” Azriel admitted, meeting his harsh gaze. “I’m trying to turn this around, but I need to track down Eris. You’re my only shot.”

Lucien let out a harsh, heartless laugh. “I figured. You need my help. If you thought I wasn’t going to be any use to you, I wonder if you’d have even come here and told me the truth. Or would you have just let me live on believing this lie until word got around about (Y/N) meeting her tragic end on some mission.”

Mentally, Azriel was exhausted. Two redheads ripping him a new one was beginning to chip away at him more than he was already crumbling at the weight of his decision. Like Gwyn, Lucien was right. While he respected the male, Azriel doubted he’d have even considered coming just to tell Lucien the truth about what happened if he didn’t think Lucien could help. And his moment of silence told Lucien all he needed to know, for he scoffed again. “Of course not,” He continued. “You people just love exploiting those of us without any other options and then throwing us away like garbage when we’re no longer of any use to you.”

“Then help me make this right.” Azriel pleaded. “Tell me how to get to Eris, discreetly.”

“Can’t you just free her yourself and take her to safety?”

“No, there are ancient wards in that prison. I can pass through quickly and easily, but not so much with another person. Rhys would find us within seconds if she left that cell, and kill us both.”

“Then how do you propose we get her out?”

Azriel frowned. “I’m sorry, we?”

Lucien rolled his eyes, taking a hearty swig from his glass of wine beside him. “I’m going to help you get her out.”

Azriel shook his head, not liking how many people were involved in this already. “I can’t let you.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not after everything you’ve done to create this mess. I’ll take you to Eris, and besides, I think I know something that can help us.”

*********************

The crisp scents of Autumn flooded Azriel’s senses as he paced the clearing. His mind whirled from his talk with Lucien, even more so at the male’s idea that they had discussed. Lucien had winnowed him here and told him to wait while he discreetly fetched Eris. It was a huge gamble – while you and Nesta had been willing to trust Eris, Azriel was not so keen. His dealings with the prince had always been tense at best, and vicious at worst. He knew he’d have to swallow his pride and put their history aside for this, however hard it may be.

Frankly, Azriel had no idea where in the Autumn Court he was. His shadows sensed nothing, no indication of where they were on the map. It briefly crossed his mind that Lucien could very well have led him into a trap as payback, but deep down Azriel knew Lucien wasn’t that type of male. However angry he might be at Azriel, he would prioritise getting you back. The clearing was massive, which made him feel far too exposed for his liking. There was a thicket of trees in the distance that he considered hiding in, but he owed it to Lucien to do as he was instructed and wait here.

It felt like hours before a strong gust of wind blew his tousled locks out of his forehead, and the presence of something Azriel could only describe as sheer power slammed into him like a wall. A thunderous roar sounded from the skies, unlike anything the shadowsinger had ever heard before. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him.

Three large dragons were flying ahead, circling above the clearing. Their wings were like claps of thunder, nearly sending him backwards onto the ground. Upon the back of the large black one was the unmistakable, arrogant figure of Eris Vanserra. He held onto the spikes going down the dragon’s neck as it soared above Azriel, roaring with the ferocity of an ancient battlecry. Azriel’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he spotted none other than Nesta Archeron, riding the elegant silver dragon with her hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were a lethal glowing silver, resembling the scales of the very beast she was mounted on.

“Mother above…” Azriel whispered, flinching as he felt the ground shake beneath him. He turned around slowly, and was met with the third dragon, a riderless one with gold scales and large horns. It snaked towards him, growling fiercely. For a moment, Azriel thought the beast would open its jaws and roast him alive, but the creature paused, growling as it glanced behind the shadowsinger.

“I must say, you are the last person I expected to come here.” Came Eris’ cocky voice. Azriel turned back around, slightly nervous at the golden dragon breathing down his neck, and was faced with the other two. Ignoring Eris, his gaze landed upon Nesta.

She was perched upon the dragon like it was a horse, or even a throne, chin high like a queen from ancient times. Azriel’s breath left his body at the sight of Nesta with her hair unbound, trailing freely down her back and shining against her blood red dress. Whichever way her gaze shifted, the dragon’s did so too. It was like watching Nesta in a mirror, only her reflection was a dragon. It unnerved Azriel, and he was well aware of his vulnerability in this situation. Not only was he in enemy court, unauthorised at that matter, but three beasts he thought only existed in stories stood beside him, in the flesh.

“Lucien said you wanted to meet.” Eris said coldly. “You have ten seconds to convince us that it’s worth our time.”

“(Y/N) will die at sunrise tomorrow if we do not do something.” Azriel blurted out clumsily.

There was a moment of silence, and Eris looked towards Nesta. Her gaze was fixed on Azriel, and he squirmed underneath it. Her silver mount growled fiercely, as if it was sharing its riders' rage.

“Are we supposed to believe that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart and care about her?”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “I’ve always cared.”

Eris snorted. “No, not truly. If you had, then we wouldn’t be having this meeting. Because you’d have done something by now and grown a spine.”

“Your brother said the same thing.” The spymaster growled, already irked by having to negotiate with the Autumn prince. “I don’t need more reminding that I’ve fucked up, Eris. I just want to save her life, and I can’t do that on my own.”

“And it’s taken you this long to come to this realisation because…” Eris raised an eyebrow, amber gaze merciless. His dragon snarled, baring its teeth menacingly.

“I didn’t know Rhys would take things this far. I thought he’d want to find out everything about the bond before he made a decision on what to do with her. But he doesn’t want to wait, he wants her gone by tomorrow.”

“I assume he ordered you to do the deed?”

Azriel nodded, throat tight. “Yes. He ordered me to collect all information on the magic they used to create the bond before I…. before I kill her. Regardless of whether I came up with anything, he wants her eliminated by sunrise.”

This was probably the stupidest, craziest decision Azriel had ever made. Part of it felt wrong, betraying his found family after 500 years of peace. But when he reflected on those centuries, had he truly been happy? Had he truly felt like he was living a fulfilled life, content with what he was doing? A few weeks ago, Azriel would have been sure of his answer. Now he wasn’t, and that unsettled him.

Regardless, reached into his bag and pulled out the books Gwyn gave him. He took a breath and continued. “Which is why I brought every document the Night Court has on this magic to you. So Rhys wouldn’t get his hands on it.”

“You went to Gwyn?” Nesta burst out, rage dripping from her tongue.

“Yes.” Azriel admitted his guilt for putting Gwyn in this precarious position intensifying.

“You put her in danger by doing that!” The eldest Archeron hissed at him, her dragon responding in a similar tone. “If anything happens to her because of it, I will slaughter you, Azriel.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Gwyn said the same thing to me about you and (Y/N). I swore no matter what happened, nobody would find out I got this through her. She even put a knife to my throat.”

Eris spoke up again. “As much as I would truly love to believe you, if I recall correctly you were perfectly content sending (Y/N) to certain death weeks ago on an impossible mission under Rhysand’s orders.”

“I was trying to find a way out of it for her!” Azriel yelled, patience snapping. “A way for her to quietly flee and go build a life for herself far away from all this shit. I never told her because I didn’t want to scare her, or get her hopes up. I had the chance to explain this to her before…”

His voice trailed off, memories of seeing you strung up like an animal flashing through his mind. Azriel was no stranger to self hatred, but today it was striking him now more than ever.

Nesta’s lethal tone interrupted his thoughts. “Before what?” She demanded.

Azriel gulped, praying that the dragons wouldn’t make him their meal. “Before Rhysand interrupted and… took over.”

“Meaning?” Eris inquired, his dragon inching ever so slightly closer to the Illyrian.

“Meaning he thought I was being too soft, since I gave her water. He stopped the physical torture and spent hours trying to get inside her head until she passed out.”

“And he didn’t manage to do it?” Eris’ voice was laced with surprise, something uncharacteristic for the Autumn prince who always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone.

“No.”

Eris and Nesta glanced at each other, unreadable expressions crossing their faces. Their dragons continued to stare down Azriel, awaiting whatever command would give them permission to incinerate him where he stood. He had a million questions for them – how the fuck did Eris have dragons? What did Beron say about all of this? Did they still plan on taking him out? But Azriel knew better than to ask them.

Nesta swung her legs to the side and crawled down the dragon’s side. To Azriel’s awe, the beast lowered its shoulder to the ground to make it easier for the female to climb off. Gracefully, Nesta’s feet met the ground and she patted the dragon’s neck. He remained frozen in his place as she stalked towards him. Like Gwyn, there was a new strength to her. This was not the half-starved Nesta who first came to the House of Wind. No, this was the female that stole from the Cauldron itself, whose name was whispered across the moors and valleys of Prythian, associated with pure death and power. Nesta’s steps were sure, silver fire expertly curling around her fingertips like Azriel’s own shadows as she stalked towards him like a lioness seizing up its prey.

“My war is not directly with you, Azriel,” Nesta said slowly. “But make no mistake. You are not innocent here. You may not have inflicted the most damage, but you willingly stood by and let your family tear me and (Y/N) down until they got pure submission. You let Cassian mock and belittle me at my lowest. You forced (Y/M)  into a job she did not want to do. You let Cassian force me to train as a warrior when that’s not at all what I wanted or needed. You didn’t do a damn thing to advocate for either of us because you’re so blinded by the sheltered little tower your circle has built over the last 500 years, ignorant to the pain you inflict on anyone who’s not a part of your family. You coming here on your own volition is the only thing in my eyes that could possibly redeem you. You will help us get (Y/N) back at all costs, or you will suffer at my hand more than you have ever suffered before.”

Being threatened for the third time that day, all Azriel could do was bow his head. “I understand.” He said.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Nesta hissed. “For your sake, let’s hope your change of heart isn’t too late.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed Eris had climbed off his dragon and was walking towards Nesta. He stood beside her, gently resting a hand on her waist. Azriel tensed, half expecting Nesta to slap him away, but she did not. To his surprise, she looked comfortable with Eris. More so than she ever had been with Cassain. When Cassian touched Nesta, there was always some sexual suggestion beneath it. But not with Eris. Eris’ touch was comfort more than ownership, something Azriel did not expect.

In his heart, he realised Cassian and Nesta were not right for each other. It made no sense for them to be mates, and whatever they had going on was purely surface level sexual tension. There was nothing deep about it, no greater understanding of each other. Nesta and Eris seemed like a much more reasonable match, mirroring each other like they did with their dragons. As much as Azriel hated the male, and knew that these thoughts would crush Cassian’s heart, it reassured him that he had made the right choice.

“So, spymaster,” Eris piped up, cocking his head. “How are we doing to do this?”

And so Azriel began explaining.

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