#kier's inner thoughts

[kierahn]

friendly reminder:

this is who ya'll down bad for

goodnight

[kendrysaneela]

So Jame didn’t make Helena sever for a PR opportunity. That was just a bonus. He made Helena sever because he was creating yet another progeny. And hoping this new heir would finally have Kier’s spirit and keep it. As a child he saw Kier in Helena. So he essentially recreated Helena’s inner child. In Helly. And it worked. He saw Kier in her.

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350 Chapter Music Inspo: End of It - Friday Pilots Club

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

XxXx

Prologue

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle.

It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

...one year and a couple months later....

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a little over a year into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over a year of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over his naked chest.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remained.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

[strangesmallbard]

having many thoughts about helena eagan. it’s so interesting that we’ve never seen helena’s inner world—who she is without anyone watching. until ep 4 last night this frustrated me, but now i think it’s a brilliant choice because wait, no. we have seen her inner world, her inner self: we know her inny. we know that devoid of context and history and pressure, there exists helly r. and she’s strident and bold and wants to get the entire fuck out of this fucked up cult. she wants to destroy the eagans from the ground up: from her own beating heart all the way up to kier eagan’s exalted, mythologized memory.

but no, that’s not quite right. because helena eagan is still a mystery to us: who is she fully alone but still encumbered by memory? who is she alone in the dark? (we do technically see her alone, but she’s still in lumon, surrounded by lumon, staring at her eagan-given face in the mirror). i think we see flashes of this helena as she awkwardly yet sincerely mimics helly r. when mark looks like he wants to kiss her in ep 2 and she stands still, staring, unsure how to proceed. when she utterly fails at improvising her innie’s wake-up moment. when she makes the snow seal for irv, breathless and excited to have a friend who will accept a gift from her. obviously this was also a ploy to make him believe she is really helly r, his friend, but there was something so vibrantly real in her eyes. this is a really, really lonely person! this is a person who’s maybe never once had a real friend even one time.

this moment also cemented my wavering belief that we’d been watching helena, not helly. when irv expresses his suspicion, we watch her face contort itself into a blank, threatening stare. helly r (and all her freeing possibilities) leeches from her body and we’re left with the blank, solid wall of helena. who is she behind that wall? i don’t think she knows either, except that she’s ashamed of who she is outside. this is the only inside thought she fully voices, cocooned in warmth with a person who thinks she’s someone else (two times over but that’s another post). her assault of mark s—and yeah that was 100% assault—was, i think, an attempt to prove she is capable of loving and being loved, like any person. she is a real animal with instincts still alive that the eagans try to mold into something neat and sterile and dead. or rather not quite truly alive.

all this to say: what the hell is going to happen when helena and helly r integrate?

[littlest-w01f]

Devine

Batboys x CoN!OC (Kiana)

RHYSAND MASTERLIST

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Rhysand is getting older, and he, along with his general and spymaster, needs to claim an Omega before his Alpha instincts take control of him completely and he is rendered unfit to be a High Lord, lucky or unluckily for him, Kier has an idea.

Cw: Mentions of underage girls/child brides, Rhys acting evil man

A/n: while participating in @acotar-omegaverse-week, I got an idea for a mini-series, so I had to...

part one - part two - part three

Presentation. That is what Kier had called this while talking to Mor, what none of the inner circle members knew it was, what neither of them had expected was seeing a line of omega females, all of them different ages, the youngest being eight from what Rhysand could see of the two faelings trying to hide behind anything that could cover them.

Rhysand stayed silent, watching the commotion of the younger omegas, the children, trying to run away, the elder ones who were almost a hundred standing still, looking nearly dead inside.

"Kier what is this!" Mor demanded, her eyes blazing with fury seeing the chaos in front of them, neither of the inner circle's faces were cracked of their cold Night Court persona, but Rhysand knew that Cassian and Azriel were just as disgusted as him and his cousin at the scene.

Kier stood in front, motioning towards the omega females, "Just a gift for the High Lord."

Rhysand's gaze swept over the assembled omegas, taking in their varied states, some trembling with fear, others seeming numb, a few even appearing resigned to their fate. His eyes lingered on one of the youngest, a nine-year-old girl clinging to her older sister, tears streaking down her face, but the elder female, a clearly bonded beta, gave no damn, shoving the child away from her. A wave of anger washed over him, but he tamped it down, knowing it would serve no purpose now.

"How very thoughtful of you," Rhysand said, a cruel smirk on his face, directed towards no one but Kier. The smirk on Rhysand's face sent chills down everyone's spine, knowing full well the implications behind those words.

"You… You can't be serious," Mor whispered, her voice trembling with rage and disgust at the scene, only for Rhysand to hear.

But Rhysand ignored her, getting up from his throne, the almost three hundred alpha made his way to the omegas, he looked at them, taking them in, the younger ones were barely old enough to acknowledge themselves as omega, or him as their High Lord or alpha, they were simply scared children, while the older ones, they bared their necks to him the second he stood up, they could sense his power, he knew he was powerful, a powerful enough alpha to dominate other alphas as well, it was all too fake in his eyes, they were pretending, trying to attract him.

He wanted to tear Kier a new one, demand what the male was thinking, he didn't want an omega, just like he knew Azriel and Cassian didn't. If he had one, he would claim them out of love, he wanted his omega to love to submit to him, and view him as alpha with trust in their eyes, not fear, or uncertainty. And the jewels and fancy dresses they were made to wear were almost laughable, as if money would've attracted him or would reflect on his choice.

Before he could make any move, he inhaled sharply, and he froze, that scent, he'd never felt anything else like it, never scented something that attracted him so much, he couldn't stop himself from seeing which omega it came from.

The scent hit him hard, like a punch to the gut. It was sweet, musky, and utterly intoxicating. He scanned the room again, searching for its source, his heart pounding against his chest. Then, he saw her, a petite figure huddled in the corner, her back pressed against the wall, her head bowed low. She was a mess of angry, tangled curls and her clothing, a corsetted dress, tight on her frame, she wore a giant pendant necklace that looked downright horrendous on her, taking from her features. Her scent, It was stronger here, near her.

She was beautiful, despite the clothes she had on, had she been his, he would've tamed her beautiful curls, bought her clothes that would go best against her pale skin, and put jewellery on her that would look lovely on her. There was something about her vulnerability that drew him in. Her innocence seemed untouched, untamed, unclaimed. And that thought alone made his blood boil with possessiveness. She was too pure, she wasn't faking anything, it almost felt like she was doing it without even trying, drawing him in by simply existing.

Rhysand approached her slowly, cautiously, as if afraid she might bolt. Rhysand stopped in front of her, towering above her, his imposing figure casting a shadow over her. His eyes roved over her form, taking in every detail, the curves of her body outlined beneath the clothes that looked cheap on her, she was way too good for them in his eyes, the swell of her breasts pressing against the fabric of her dress, the flare of her hips. Her scent grew stronger, filling his senses until it was all he could think about, the only thing he could see was her. He reached out a hand, intending to touch her, to confirm that she was real, that she wasn't just a figment of his imagination, but paused, not wanting to startle her.

Instead, he spoke softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air between them. "Who are you?"

Kiana had groaned in pain as the handmaid pulled at the strings of her corset, she hated it. She'd been forced to prepare for the High Lord's arrival for a week, she had been starved and dehydrated to lose weight, and her mother had pulled and pinched at the tips of her ears to make them look as if she was blushing, to look beautiful for the alpha, her father had told her to attract him, but she hated the thought, of being forced to be with an alpha, even if the omega in her cried for the familiarity of an alpha, to have a home with him, the thought of submitting to someone like the High Lord of the Night Court made dread fill her stomach, the thought of everything he might expect from her, she didn't want to be present around him.

The question caught her off guard, and she flinched slightly, her doe-like eyes widening as she glanced up at him. She bit her lower lip nervously, "I… I'm Kiana... My lord..." She stammered out, her voice barely audible. She shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, the corset digging into her ribs, making breathing difficult. She was terrified, unsure of what was happening, but she knew she needed to stay strong. She was an omega, after all, born to bear children and provide comfort.

She fought against the urge to submit to him, his scent was too powerful over her, his presence putting a weight on the back of her knees, and she fought against the need to submit to him. He wasn't her alpha, she wouldn't kneel to him, something that intimate was reserved for a male she loved, not a random alpha with too strong pheromones. So she stood strong.

The corner of Rhysand's lips twitched upwards, amused and yet impressed by her defiance. "Kiana, hmm?" he mused aloud, his violet eyes burning into hers. He leaned down, close enough that his breath fanned across her face, her scent enveloped him, making his head spin, he needed her. "You're quite pretty, considering the atrocious state you've been left in," he murmured, glancing pointedly at her clothes. He straightened back up and crossed his arms over his chest, surveying her as though he were a sculptor appraising a piece of marble.

He leaned back into her neck, inhaling her scent straight from the strongest source, and he growled, "You are mine." He claimed her.

Kiana's entire world narrowed down to the feeling of his warm breath against her neck, the roughness of his voice when he spoke. She nodded, her mind still reeling from the shock of his sudden declaration.

Rhysand almost groaned as she leaned into him subconsciously, before the realisation that he had claimed her hit in and she stood up straight. "This is horrible, sweet." He whispered against her neck, his hand slipping behind her neck, unclasping the heavy necklace, making it fall to the ground, the very fake gem of it cracking when it hit the ground. "Come with me, pretty omega."

She followed him obediently, knowing that she had no choice but to obey. As she walked behind him, she tried to calm herself, reminding herself that she was an omega, meant to serve and please. This was her duty, her purpose. She hated it, she wasn't supposed to have an alpha who didn't care for her, someone like Rhysand was rumoured to have omegas on the side, but if she played her cards right, perhaps he would just keep her for show, maybe he won't try to sleep with her.

Kiana watched Rhysand take a seat on his throne, her ears were ringing, her thoughts a mess, she saw him looking at her expectantly, but she hadn't heard him. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on her breathing, the thought of making a male like Rhysand mad at her was enough to calm her enough to listen to him.

"Come now, sweet omega, don't make me repeat myself again," He had his legs spread open and Kiana was sure she would pass out, he surely wouldn't make her kneel between his legs, the thought of doing that, not only for a male she didn't know, but her cheeks heated up at the thought of doing it in front of an entire court, her ears burning, but he simply patted his thigh, "Take a seat."

Kiana hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, but ultimately, she did as she was told. She stepped closer to Rhysand's throne, her hands trembling slightly as she placed one upon his knee and upper thigh. Then, with a deep breath, she sat down, her skirts pooling around her. She kept her gaze lowered, unable to meet his piercing violet eyes. Her mind raced with thoughts of what could happen next, each scenario worse than the last. But she remained silent, not interacting with him even a little, even if her heart ached to want him as her alpha.

Rysand could sense the disapproval of his inner circle at playing Kier's twisted game as he spoke up, "This omega is mine."

The statement hung heavily in the air, echoing throughout the court. It caused a ripple of surprise and relief among those gathered, their gazes flickering from Rhysand to Kiana and back again. Some of them scoffed, others muttered under their breath, but none dared to challenge the High Lord directly.

But Rhysand ignored them all, focusing solely on Kiana seated so demurely before him. "Do you understand what that means, my little omega?" he asked her, his voice low and laced with a gentle tone, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Rhysand waited patiently, allowing her time to gather her thoughts and compose herself. His eyes never left her, studying her reactions, her expressions, every subtle change that revealed how she felt about this sudden development. He could see the fear in her eyes, the confusion, but also a hint of something else, something stronger, more resilient. He found himself intrigued by this small, defiant omega who had been thrust into his life without warning.

"Look at me," Rhysand commanded softly, his tone inviting rather than demanding. When she finally raised her gaze to meet his, he smiled gently, a contrast to the harsh exterior he often displayed at how easily she followed his command when it wasn't as clear of an order as the one he had given her before. "I promise, there's nothing to fear from me, from any of us." he assured her, his words sincere despite the circumstances.

He reached out, tracing a finger along her jawline, his touch surprisingly gentle given his size and strength. "Trust is earned, not demanded," he continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in closer. "And I intend to earn yours, little omega."

Kiana's body trembled at the warmth of Rhysand's fingers against her skin, her breath catching in her throat. Part of her yearned to lean into his touch, to let go of her fears and simply bask in the comfort he offered. But another part, a stubborn, determined part, held firm. She knew better than to let her guard down around someone like him, no matter how kind his words or how gentle his caress.

Rhysand noticed the tension in her body, the way she stiffened slightly beneath his touch. He withdrew his hand, respecting her boundaries even as he wished she would relax, allow herself to be comforted by him. "It's alright, sweet," he murmured, his voice soothing. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."

He sat straight, giving her space, his gaze never leaving her face as he observed her struggles. The omega within her clearly yearned for his touch, for the reassurance and protection only an alpha could provide, he didn't feel the need to comment on how she was picking at his pant leg, he was sure she didn't even know she was doing it. But the fear and uncertainty stemming from her current situation held her back. Rhysand knew he had his work cut out for him, but he was determined to help her overcome her fears and learn to trust him. He wanted her to trust him, to let her feel he would never hurt her.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith}

{Rhysand Taglist - @yeonalie}

{Cassian Taglist - @yeonalie}

{Azriel Taglist - @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch @satorusemepls @fieldofdaisiies}

[mcuamerica]

One Day | Eris x Reader 

For Eris Week 2024 - Day 7: Free Day @erisweekofficial

Summary: You see Eris again after he saved you. 

Warnings: Rhys being a jackass, (let me know if I forgot anything!)

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears for Eris Week.

“I’m telling you no.” Rhys said, hands in his pockets as he stood in your doorway. “You won’t go to this announcement. I will not have you see him.” 

“I need to, Rhys. The bargain-“ 

“I know the bargain isn’t pulling you to him.” He said. “And I know the bargain you made with him isn’t time constrained. So as long as I’m around, you won’t be seeing him.” He said. 

“And what if something goes wrong with Kier and you? Or Mor? Or Feyre, now that she’s pregnant-“

A low growl came from his throat and you rolled your eyes. “I’m not threatening her… but Nesta’s going to be there. I should be there.” You said. 

“There is no reason-“

“I am in the Inner Circle. I am your sister. I deserve to be there. Especially when my sister is announcing her pregnancy to half our Court.” You said. “I’m coming. Whether you like it or not,” you said and turned around, grabbing your shoes. “You can’t force me to stay here.” You said. 

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not to leave Azriel’s side, understood?” He asked. “And you are not allowed to talk to Eris.” 

“You’re not my keeper, Rhys.” 

“I am your High Lord,” he said, seriously. 

“You’re my brother.” You said and crossed your arms. “You won’t stop me from doing anything.” You said. 

“I swear, sometimes you’re worse than a teenager.” He grumbled before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. 

The Court of Nightmares was just as you remembered it, exactly as it had been when Azriel got the Orb in secret. You were honestly surprised Eris even agreed to show up here… but you weren’t going to question it. You missed your mate. Yes, you’d been communicating down the bond as best you could with tugs. And sometimes you were able to get letters to each other. But it wasn’t the same as being here. With him. 

Rhys had been too protective of you for the past centuries. And you haven’t seen him once since those two weeks you were healing. 

And by the Cauldron did you see him. He aged just slightly, having a larger frame and slightly longer hair. While you thought he would’ve been clean shaven, he has a slight stubble neatly trimmed. His red hair glowed in the faelight, standing out amongst the heads of darker hair. 

His eyes were immediately locked with yours, his breath hitching in his throat. Eris hadn’t seen you since that night either. You weren’t even at the High Lords meeting those few months ago. But here you were, in all your glory. Your violet eyes, twin to your brothers, widened as he locked eyes with you. 

As much as you wanted to go straight to him, Rhys was on alert. Cassian and Azriel flanked your sides like sentinels. Cassian’s gaze was on Nesta, and Azriel was watching Elain. Though, you knew if you asked enough, Azriel would distract Rhys so you could speak with your mate. He was the only one that knew, much to his dismay… 

You paced in your room, waiting for Rhys to tell you if you could go back to Autumn for their celebration ball of the beginning of the season. It had been two years, and every year he said no. Baron alone would be furious that you were there. But you were the Princess of Night. You needed to be there. You needed to see your mate. 

“I can hear you in the living room, why are you so nervous? You know he’s going to say no.” Azriel said, leaning against the doorway. You were dressed and ready to go, a navy blue dress your mother made for you hung from your shoulders and cascaded all the way down to the floor. You were stunning. “He doesn’t want you to see Eris.” 

“I know that. And it’s ridiculous. If Eris wanted to hurt me, he would’ve let me die.” You said, sitting down on the bed. “He would’ve had his healer tell you there was nothing else to be done and killed me then and there. And he didn’t.” 

“For his own motives… having the Princess of Night die in his court-“

“It wasn’t for the Court. Or for his own motives.” You whispered, tears pricking your eyes. 

“Then what was it?” He asked. 

Your eyes came up to his, taking a shaky breath. “You have to promise… make a bargain… if I tell you this… you will never tell another soul. In any way.” You said, searching his eyes. 

Concern peaked in his mind. Did Eris do something to you? Did it have something to do with the bargain tattoo on your forearm? The one you shared with the heir to Autumn? 

“I promise. I will never tell another soul. In any way.” He said, kneeling in front of you. He felt a small tattoo appear on his shoulder blade, he’d look at it later. “Now what is it?” He asked. 

“Eris is my mate.” You whispered, taking a shaky breath. “And this bargain is a promise that we will go back to each other… one day.” You said. 

You winced when you looked up and saw the rage on Azriel’s face. “You made me- how could you make a bargain with me to keep this secret? Rhys will kill me-“

“He won’t. Not when there’s a bargain in place. I needed someone to know, Az. You’re my best friend. You’re my brother. And I need you to help me convince Rhys that Eris is safe. I’m safe around him.” You said. 

“No, no there’s plenty of males that are horrible to their mates. Eris could be one of them. I will not help you.” 

Azriel may not have helped you for the first few months, but then he found a letter that was from Eris to you. And he gave it to you. He didn’t comment or say anything, only that next time Eris wanted to contact you, to address it to Azriel. That way, it would look like court correspondence and not two mates exchanging letters. 

He helped you distribute them more and more. And helped you when the bargain tugged at you to see him. Or the bond was too much to manage. Azriel was your best friend, your brother. And he would help you carry this burden. 

You made sure Eris knew about it too, because you couldn’t have Eris eternally pissed at the male that was helping you. 

So when you looked up at Azriel, eyes wide with desperation, he knew what you wanted. “I’ll give you one dance.” He whispered, nodding as he walked towards Rhys and Feyre. 

You took a shaky breath, noticing Cassian was too busy watching Nesta to notice you as you walked into the crowd. You made your way to the head of red locks, finding yourself in front of him sooner than you expected. 

“Hi.” You whispered, hands trembling at your sides. 

“Hello,” he drawled, causing you to almost collapse on your knees. “You are gorgeous.” He whispered, leaning down to your ear. 

Your hands reached for his arms, needing to be connected to him in someway. “So are you,” you whispered back, tears welling on your eyes. “I’ve missed you.” You whispered. 

“You have no idea,” he responded, pulling back and taking your hands in his. “May I have a dance?” He asked. 

You didn’t even need to respond before he whisked you away on the dance floor. The entire room turned their attention to you, but all you saw was Eris. His amber eyes glowing as he gazed into your violet ones. His hair slightly disheveled atop his head. The way his near permanent smirk was slightly softer. All for you. 

“Stop.” You heard a commanding voice- your brother’s voice say. You paused, turning around. Eris kept a hand on your hip as you both faced the High Lord. The rest of the congregation paused, all taking at least three steps back from you all. “What are you doing?” He simply asked. 

“Dancing.” You responded, your chest puffed and your eyes deadlocked on his. “As people do at a celebration. Why don’t you try it sometime, Rhysand?” You asked. 

You felt the fury ripple off him, but it calmed as Feyre set a hand on his arm. She knew. The look in her eyes… she knew about you and Eris. 

You noticed them stare at each other for a moment before a slight chuckle came from Rhys’s lips. You heard the entire court let out a sigh of relief. “The Princess of Night, everyone, always once for the dramatics.” He said. “Resume.” He said. Everyone went back to mingling, expect you and Eris. 

Rhys motioned for the two of you to approach and you sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if I can do this here.” You whispered to Eris as he walked with you to the dais. 

“You tug and I’ll take us away immediately.” He responded, a hand resting in the small of your back. 

“Well… it seems like we have secrets.” Rhys said once you were in speaking distance. 

“Please, Rhys, let’s do this at home.” You said. 

“You decided to make it very public. You don’t think everyone can smell your scents?” He asked. 

“You’re a High Lord and Lady. You know you can detect more…” you took a deep breath. “I’d like to discuss this somewhere private. Since this is the only time I’ve been allowed to see Eris, I didn’t have much of a choice.” You said. 

Feyre stood up, a hand on her belly and the other on Rhysand’s shoulder. “We will go home. As soon as we see… Nesta is back.” She said and nodded. “Dancing with Cassian, after all.” She said and you turned, smiling gently as you saw your brother dancing with her.

“Thank you, Feyre.” You said. “We’ll be happy to speak with you both at home-“

“There is no we. Eris is going to report back to his father.” Rhys said. 

“He will come home with me whether you like it or not, Rhysand.” You said, dark tendrils of your power rippling from your feet. 

“Do not test me, (Y/N). You will not like the outcome. Eris will go to Autumn, report to his father that all is well, and we will have a discussion about what to do about your… predicament.” He said. 

“Our ‘predicament’ is just that. Ours.” Eris said. “If you wish to keep my mate from me for any longer, Rhys, you may just find me invoking the Blood Duel.” He said. 

Your breath hitched and you looked to Eris. “You would-“

“I would do anything for you, my love.” He said, staring deep into your violet eyes. He broke his gaze to look back at Rhys. “We will speak about this together or not at all… or Autumn will be of no help to you in this war.” 

“We might just go to Beron and tell him of your treason instead.” Rhys said. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” You said. “Rhys, he’s essentially your family now.” You said, taking Eris’s hand. “You do anything to betray him and I will go to Autumn and be mated to him to prove where my loyalty really lies.” 

Rhys took a deep breath. “Fine, we talk about this at home.” He said and stood up, not even bothering to announce the departure before he left the dais with Feyre. 

You let out a shaky breath and looked at Eris. “You would really invoke a Blood Duel? For me?” You asked. 

Eris rested a gentle hand on your cheek. “Of course I would, darling. I’d do anything to keep you with me. To bring you back to me.” He said. 

You shook your head. “Who new the heir of Autumn could be so sentimental.” You teased, squeezing his wrist. “Let me take you to my home.” 

A/N: My final submission for Eris Week. This has been so incredible! Thank you so much for all the support and a special thank you to @erisweekofficial for hosting this week.

If you wish to see more of this couple, don't hesitate to ask!

[the-red-princess]

MY FIRST FIC … it’s just the first chapter… hope you all enjoy … it’s a MarkHelena fic …

Chapter 1 - Good or Bad news ?

Difficult times always show us the real value of the things we have.

How many sunny afternoons had I spent buried in work while Gemma asked me to go for a walk? How many game nights had I missed? Two years of pain and remorse were more than enough to change my view on what really matters, and on how I want to enjoy this new life I've been given, when I thought my existence would be nothing more than a memoryless job, nights of drunken stupor, and, in the few hours I actually felt sane, the pain would consume more and more parts of me, leaving new open holes every day.

The "Rebellion of the Innies," as the Lumon severed floor takeover came to be known, ended in a confusing way three months ago. The company barely survived the scandals, but only after declaring that all research into severance would be permanently shut down. Helena Eagan took over the company amidst the chaos after the sudden death of her father. Her actions since then had been solely focused on repairing the damage caused by severance to everyone. Along with Harmony, she was able to develop a safe reintegration method, which was presented to the severed workers along with videos of their Inners, in an attempt to convince them to go through with the procedure, so the Inners wouldn't be "killed" in the end. Helena herself stated she would undergo the procedure as soon as she sorted out some personal medical issues.

Even with all the advantages, I didn't feel like I should go through with reintegration—especially knowing the feelings my innie had for Helena Eagan. My heart belonged only to Gemma, and I didn't want that to change.

"Mark!? Can you help me with the plates, honey?" Gemma called from the kitchen.

"Of course," I said, snapping out of my sudden daydream caused by a news headline I saw on my phone.

When I got to the kitchen, I saw Gemma taking roasted chicken with potatoes out of the oven. The smell quickly spread through the air. She had never been much of a cook, but ever since she came back, cooking had become her outlet. She said that in the testing floor, those moments preparing food felt special—like she had control over something, even if it was small—and she had learned to find peace in that. Every day, since we moved back to Ganz, she made a different recipe for dinner.

While I was setting the plates, I noticed a car stopping in front of the house. Then came the knocks on the door. We weren't expecting anyone. For some reason, my heart started beating faster, like something was about to jump from behind the couch. I walked toward the door and, still a bit hesitant, opened it.

When I saw who it was, I involuntarily took two steps back. She then raised her hands slightly, as if surrendering, and gave a faint smile.

"Calm down, Mark. I come in peace," Helena said quickly.

"What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?" I asked, still keeping some distance from the door.

She was accompanied by two security guards waiting a bit farther off, probably at her request so she wouldn't seem threatening.

"Well, like I said, I come in peace. And I know where you live because you still have a chip from my company in you both—but we can only track Gemma's. It was a newer model."

She was rambling a bit at the end, seemed nervous, and was gesturing excessively. I must have made a very clear expression of distrust, because she quickly continued explaining.

"I know you two don't want anything to do with me. I know it doesn't matter how many times I apologize—it'll never be enough to make up for everything my father and the company did to you..."

"Oh, are you talking about the kidnapping of my wife? Faking her death? Torture? Or trying to kill us?" I cut her off mid-speech. "We made it very clear last time that we didn't want any of that in our lives anymore."

When we left Kier, we had a conversation with Natalie, representing the board, who offered us a sum of money—"financial compensation for the distress," they called it. The lawyers said it was a fair amount, along with a promise that we'd never be bothered again. We accepted the offer just to get out of there and start over—as if nothing had happened. At least, that was the idea.

"I know. And I didn't want to come here..." Her voice grew quieter as she spoke, looking down at her clasped hands.

"Then why did you come?" I asked, exasperated.

Gemma heard the voices and came to see what was going on, drying her hands with a dish towel.

"Sweetheart? What's happening? What are you doing here?" Gemma asked, slightly irritated, standing beside me.

"If you let me speak, I promise I'll leave right after," Helena said, straightening up and putting on a serious expression once Gemma arrived.

We both waited in silence while she prepared to speak, now clearly a bit irritated.

"Well, like I was saying—it wasn't my idea to come. Harmony insisted ever since I found out..." she swallowed hard and looked away. "Mark, I didn't come to ask for support or even presence—I was just convinced you deserved to know... I'm pregnant."

She said it almost in a single breath, probably hoping it'd be like ripping off a band-aid: the faster, the less it hurts.

Neither Gemma nor I reacted. I opened my mouth, but my brain refused to give me any sentences—just a single word.

"Wait … how ???”

"Mark, I think everyone knows how these things happen. I know your focus is history, but you must have studied biology," Helena replied sarcastically.

"I know how biologically, but... when? Where?" I asked, holding onto the doorframe, feeling like I might throw up at any moment.

"Oh, you didn't watch the tapes of your innies before leaving? Well, I saw all of them. And to answer your questions—there were several days. But the first time was during that retreat. Then the day I found you at the restaurant, remember?"

"I do," I replied, still a bit dazed.

"Those days I was informed of what happened and took every precaution to make sure nothing would come of it—but the problem was the many times our innies got involved during the rebellion... they took full advantage."

That last part she said laughing openly, showing no concern for our state of complete shock.

I felt Gemma step away and sit on the stairs behind me. My head was spinning. Amid the confusion, visions I'd had during my attempted reintegration came flooding back—me on top of Helena, on a plastic-covered floor, and for a moment, I could feel her heart pounding as I leaned over her. I shook my head, trying to erase the memory.

"I... I don't... are you sure it's mine?" The desperation in my voice was clear.

Helena lifted her head, still smiling faintly.

"Well, I did what I promised Cobel. I'll be in town for a couple more days to deal with some company issues. If you have any questions, my hotel info is on this card, including my room number. Goodbye, Mark... Gemma."

She placed the card into my hand resting on the doorframe. Without waiting for any reply to her goodbye, she turned, quickly got into her car, and left.

I kept staring at the spot where Helena had stood, as if her ghost remained there, repeating the word "pregnant" over and over. My head was spinning. I blinked a few times, hoping I'd suddenly wake up on the couch.

I took a deep breath and pulled myself together—I needed to be there for my wife. I turned around, and Gemma was looking at her feet, hands resting on the stair step she was sitting on. I knelt in front of her.

"My love? Are you okay?" I asked, touching her shoulder. She didn't pull away, which was a good sign.

I tried to lift her face, but she didn't let me.

"Gemma, I swear—I didn't know anything about this. I had no idea my innie was that involved..."

"It was your innie... not you..." she said, still with her head down. "It's okay—I just need a minute."

She put her hands over her face. I backed away and sat on the floor, waiting until she was ready to move.

We didn't have dinner that night. The roast went straight into the fridge. Gemma kept insisting she was okay, but I knew how much that hurt her—how much it hurt me. I was going to be a father, and I'd probably never have contact—just pictures in magazines or TV. It didn't feel right.

Near bedtime, Gemma said she needed space. I agreed and reassured her I'd sleep on the couch. She brought me a pillow and blanket, said goodnight, and went upstairs.

I tried to distract myself with a silly movie, but nothing could take my mind off the unexpected visit.

When I first started at Lumon, I saw lots of ads featuring Helena—especially related to severance. What always struck me was how young she was, holding so much responsibility—and also very beautiful. The day I saw her at the restaurant was so strange. When I realized we were flirting, I got confused. I wasn't capable of holding a conversation with anyone—and suddenly the heiress of the biggest company is in front of me, and I act like a teenager. Worse—she responded. It felt like the prom queen asked to sit at my lunch table.

I realized I was smiling remembering it. I know the reintegration didn't fully go through, but these feelings that arise when I think about her... it makes me think there's some leak from my innie.

I reached into my pocket and took out the card Helena had given me. I know it felt wrong—but I had the feeling that talking to her would ease the weight in my chest. I don't want to have a son or daughter and never know them. It's my right... isn't it?

I got up quickly and went to the bedroom. Gemma was sleeping deeply, and she'd stay that way until morning. Lately, she'd been taking medication to help her sleep—it made her rest deeply. So if I went out and came back quickly, she wouldn't even notice.

I went downstairs, grabbed the car keys, a coat, and left. She was staying at one of the city's fanciest hotels, of course—the presidential suite.

It was a quick drive—no traffic at that hour, already past ten at night. I parked in front of the hotel. Suddenly a chill ran through my stomach. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself—it was just a conversation.

I gathered my courage, walked quickly to the entrance. In the lobby, the lights dazzled me for a moment. It was beautiful—gold and white dominated, the floor and counters looked like pearlescent quartz. The staff greeted me with fake smiles. I approached the counter and asked to speak with Helena Eagan in the main suite.

"One moment, sir, I'll check."

The attendant didn't seem to believe I'd have any relation to an Eagan. Even outside Kier, Lumon's reputation was huge.

"Good evening, Ms. Eagan, sorry for the late hour. A Mr. Mark Scout is here to see you."

He listened carefully to the reply, and like magic, his expression toward me changed.

"Perfectly, ma'am. I'll authorize his—"

"Wait. I don't want to go up. Can't she meet me down here?" I interrupted.

"One moment, Mr. Scout... Ma'am, your visitor would like to know if you could meet him in the lobby?... I see... No problem, ma'am. I'll let him know. Thank you and good night."

He hung up and turned to me with a smile.

"Mr. Scout, Ms. Eagan informed me that she's not feeling well enough to come down—and insisted that you go up."

My idea was to speak with her in public. She makes me nervous, and being alone with her in a room wasn't going to help—but I needed to get this weight off my chest, or I'd suffocate.

So I agreed. The smiling attendant led me to the elevator, used a room key to call it, and told me I'd exit directly into the room, so he couldn't accompany me.

As the elevator doors closed, my heart began to race again. I felt like this was a terrible idea—but at the same time, if I didn't go through with it, the anxiety in my chest would explode.

[acc-de-lulu]

my new episode Irv and Burt thoughts

Everything that happened between Burt and Irving in this episode bothers me, I just don't understand why it turned out the way it did. Yes, we know that Burt works for Lumon and gave Lumon the opportunity to look into Irving, find the things they need, then make the decision that Irving should be done away with. When Irving returned home, did he knew Drummond was at his? What did he do after that? Was he afraid that they would come for him immediately, that he would have to run away from home, or did he realize that Burt was a good man (sic) and therefore had nothing to fear? What day do we see in this episode, next? Where did Irving go? If for a walk, why without Radar? Why was Burt sitting there looking at the papers when Irv came home? Lumon gave Bert a key not only to Irving's house, but every key in existence, or does everyone who works for Lumon have a set like Drummond had? I can somewhat understand why Irving's first reaction was to apologize to Burt rather than freak out that Lumon came after him, but it's so fucked up. Why didn't Irving show resistance? Was he hoping that there was a strong connection between him and Burt that would make Burt protect him? (and was he right, but why did he even count on that?) What kind of station is this anyway? Where the hell did it even comes from? Where it takes people? Why does Burt think that this way it will not be possible to track where Irv will go? Why is this enough to just leave Kier and not return? Why didn't Lumon decide to get rid of Irving sooner, right after the inner Irv almost killed Helena, why did it give him the opportunity to make contact with Burt? Wouldn't it be better if Burt didn't get to know Irv closer and took him right away? Why, in the end, did everything end so abruptly? Of course, we still have to find out who Irving called, but right now I'm having a hard time figuring out how the writers are going to bring him back into the main story not in some stupid way like "at the next stop Irving realized he couldn't live without Burt, and came back on the next train". I wonder how the person Irving called will react to him left. But most importantly, why did the authors make this story the way it is? Why was Burt's husband introduced just for one episode? Why intrigue the audience with the love of these two characters, who were so important to the plot in the first season, if in fact we will get almost nothing in the second season? I have so many questions.

[puffchill]

A Distance Memory

“Need to walk faster, i’m gonna be late for class!” continuously echoed in my mind as i took long strides towards my lecture hall. Being of a smaller stature, i tried my best to cover more ground in the shortest time possible which left me breathless by the time i reached the front door. Before i could pull open the door, a lean hand juts forward and his hand grips the door handle. A whiff of the person’s scent hit my nose with musky and woody notes. I looked up and my eyes caught a pair of glinting red eyes staring at me. At this moment, shock coursed through my body and inevitably showed up on my facial expressions as well. “Wait…… why does he look so familiar? I can’t seem to pinpoint where i saw him from……” i thought in my mind. The tall male continued to stare at me and seemed to be contemplating something in his mind. “Hmm? This is the lecture hall for the module, Art and Prose II right?” His question snapped me out of my rumination and i quickly shot back, “Ah, yes.” “Then, shall we go in?” “Oh, sure!” He then pulled the lever of the front door and we entered the class together.

As we stepped into class, it seems as though countless glances were given to us. Slight murmurs were heard as i made my way to the back of the lecture hall. My signature seat is left empty as usual and i plopped myself down. The same scent whisked around me and i turned to my right to see the same person sitting beside me. “Uhm, there’s countless seats around though?” i silently thought. The more i looked at him, the more thoughts gathered in my mind. Strange…… i don’t recall seeing him at all throughout the whole one year of my university studies. As though he heard my inner thought, he turned to face me and raised his eyebrow, a quizzical look formed on his face. “Never seen me before, i suppose?, he chuckled. “Well, i was notified that if i skipped one more class i will be expelled.” Upon hearing his answer, i nodded my head and took out my unfinished work from last week. Time to finish this up and pass it to the professor i guess. Throughout the lesson, he was silent but i kept feeling his glance burning into my very existence. Somehow, i don’t feel uncomfortable but instead, a sense of curiosity shrouded me.

Three hours passed and class ended. I walked up to the front to pass my professor the completed work and walked back to my seat. While i was keeping my belongings and packing up, he finally broke the silence. “Say, what’s your name?” “Oh, i’m y/n! How about you?” Upon hearing my answer, he instantly froze. His expression showed a mix of surprize and…… delight? “Ah…… i’m Kier. Is it too late to say nice to meet you?” “Of course not!” i laughed at his answer. As i laughed, his lips seemed to quiver upwards. “Nice to meet you too, you seem kinda dazed just now when i told you my name?” “Did i? Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.” he smirked. “It’s just…… i heard your name before.” “Huh? Where?” “I will let you know in due time.” he simply replied. “Moments ago at the door you seem fazed when you saw me as well, wonder why?” “Oh…… i’m not sure but you just look familiar.” Upon hearing my reply, his eyes seemed to glint even more and as he tilted his head to the side, he muttered, “Is that so?”. Checking the time, i realised that i was going to be late for my next class and i immediately excused myself. He continued to follow me with his eyes as i made my way out of the door. “Ha…… Y/n, finally i met you. I will never let you out of sight now. Never.”

[blodgmonster]

Thoughts while rereading ACOSF. The first half of the book so that my post isn't a novel in itself.

-- Nesta falls into one of my favorite categories of female characters. Spiky, hurt, hiding their wounded hearts behind extremely high walls. I adore her. Always have. Even more now that we get her point of view. Though I sort of wish it was in first person like Feyre.

-- It's terribly ironic and funny that Feyre's solution to her sister spiraling out of control is to LOCK HER UP against her will. Gee, didn't someone do that to her and we all hated him for it? Who was that again? Oh, yes, Tamlin. "You will not be a prisoner" but there is like...no way out. Why doesn't the fae world have therapy?

-- "My Nesta. Elain will marry for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen...You shall wed for conquest." What the fuck was Mama Archeron's deal?

-- Mor comparing Nesta to Kier and the others in the Hewn City is bullshit.

-- Nesta's relationship with the House is so cute.

-- Nesta's self-hatred makes me cry. I've had the same thoughts that she's had. And when Cassian tells her that everyone hates her and it rings in her head like a bell...it's like a punch to the stomach.

-- Merrill is researching "the existence of different Realms -- different worlds. Living on top of each other without even knowing it....if it might be possible for worlds to overlap." Oh my God. "Some philosophers believe there are eleven worlds like that. And some believe there are as many as twenty-six."

Me:

-- "Maybe you'll become interesting at last, Elain." SICK FUCKING BURN, NESTA.

-- "I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe even one good thing about her. That you REFUSE to fucking believe one good thing about her." Yesssss, Cassian. Where was that attitude in HOFAS when Rhys treated Nesta like SHIT and Cassian just...stood there and let him?

-- I know Nesta was drinking to excess, but so does everyone else in the Inner Circle. Hypocrites.

--' "Her trauma is..." Rhys's throat bobbed." Yeah, bud, yeah. Stop being a dick to her.

-- pretty fucked up that "you always have a choice" and "no secrets between us" Rhys won't tell Feyre about the risk the wings pose. Also, how is it that magic can REGROW WINGS, REVIVE THE DEAD, and heal someone who's GUTS ARE HANING OUT but a C section is beyond their healing capabilities. Make it make sense, SJM.

-- NESTA CLAIMING THE MASK, RASING THE LEGION, AND KILLING THE KELPIE!!! FUCK YES, LADY DEATH!!!!!!!

[spaceorphan18]

Thoughts about the Severance Finale 

I kind of flipped through all of my Season 2 reactions, and my have we come a long way in ten weeks.  Ngl, I was a little ambivalent at the beginning of the season due to the pace, but as I’ve been doing a rewatch, everything hits a little harder.  Episode 7 really did a number on me, and I don’t know that I ever really recovered from that.  

Anyway… here are a lot of words about everything...

The opening title sequence really does tell the entire season in a nutshell.  It’s fascinating upon rewatch.  

Irving (and Burt) - Who said his goodbye in the previous episode.  I did miss him in this one, tbh.  There are still unanswered questions - what was he up to? Who was he talking to on the phone? Does Burt have further backstory to share? But I also can see his story being done if this is where they choose to end it.  I don’t love that idea -- I think he adds a great flavor to the dynamic.  But I can’t help but think about how they brought in a new person when other people retired, when Petey left.  But now there’s only three seats.  

Also, John Turturro (and Christopher Walken) have been absent from all the press stuff.  Are they busy? Or… what’s going on?  

Miss Huang - is she also done? Was this a one season kind of thing? I wonder if they’ll get into more of Lumon’s child issues moving forward.  

Milchick - the Marching Band was inspired.  I’ve said it all season - but Milchick’s arc is leading him to eventually crack and have a breakdown and/or join forces against Lumon.  But more so - there’s a sadness to him.  This guy just wanted to be a musical theater major who ended up in middle management.  You feel sorry that his life ended up that way (though side eye the fact that no matter how bad it gets, he can’t seem to quite take a step away from Lumon).  I wonder what needs to happen to make him finally break. 

Also, Lumon has an entire group of severed employees on retainer to be an entire marching band? That’s… wild.  Like, wild… 

Jame Eagan & The Doctor - seriously fuck these guys.  I want them dead and burning.  The audacity that Jame has to say he doesn’t love his daughter.  That he only sees the fire of Kier in her Innie without being reflective enough to see that he (and the family and the psycho cult corporation) have snuffed her inner fire out.  Also, I hate the creepy doctor.  He needs to go, too.  

Mr. Drummond - Okay, so I’m going to take a moment and talk about the fact that there was legit humor in this episode.  The accidental killing of Drummond was one of those moments.  It’s dark.  Super dark.  But also hilarious.  I’m also a fan of insane ways to kill off super villains.  

Lorne & the Goat - While I adore Gwendoline Christie, I’m still side-eyeing the goat stuff.  But! At least it has some relevance, and another moment of commentary about how no matter how Lumon can try, you can completely separate emotion from someone.  

Ms. Cobel - She’s going to take on Lumon for her own reasons next season.  I really want to know what her long game is, because she has a long game already going in her mind.  Who is it she’s really after -- Jame? Someone else?  And she continues to have a fascination with Mark.  Why?  I’ve warmed on her character this season, and I’m curious to see how they handle her next season.  I will say this -- I fully believe that Devon and Gemma are going to be wanting to bust into Lumon next season - and Ms. Cobel has the knowledge to help them do it.  It’ll be a shaky alliance, but I see it being one.  And I’m curious to see where it goes.  

Dylan G. - So.  Here’s my thing.  All season, while I understood the whole idea behind character exploration, etc, I wasn’t entirely sure what the bigger picture was with Dylan’s character arc.  Until this last bit.  When it came together beautifully and brilliantly.  Dylan’s story is, in some ways, antithetical to Mark’s - in that despite everything that’s happened, both Dylans respect their counterparts.  I loved that Outie Dylan gave his Innie the ability to have a choice.  Gave his Innie the autonomy that most people don’t give to Innies.  And in turn, the two of them come to an understanding and have a respect for one another.  It’s so, so good, and I love it.  And I think it’s a shame that Dylan gets overlooked with all the higher drama going on. 

And also, once again, Dylan comes in to help and save his friends.  He is an integral part to that office, and there are times I wish the show didn’t put so much weight on romantic relationships, because there is power and love in other types of bonds -- like familial and friendship -- that are also overlooked.  Let’s not overlook Dylan in Season 3.  Because I think he’s actually going to end up being a voice of reason when the revolution ends up spiraling out of control (which… it will.)  

Adam Scott (& the Marks) -- Go get your Emmy, babe.  That scene with both Marks is really masterful.  And I think it speaks so much to the nature of all the themes on the show.  It’s truly one of the best scenes of this entire show.  And I really do get where both Marks are coming from, as well as being fascinated by the fact that while they are two different entities sharing a body, they are still essentially the same person and still react the same way.  Both Marks, at their core, are lovers (messed up, having plenty of issues lovers, but lovers still the same).  And I fully understand all the choices being made.  And I really appreciate the fact that they keep true to that characteristic.  

Also.  Mark bloodied up going to find his love.  That did something for me.  ;) 

Helly R (& Helena). - I have some complicated feelings about Helly.  The thing though -- the thing I’ve always liked best about her character is the fact that she has never been one to back down without a fight.  That she is bold and is fire but has come a long way from just wanting out life to wanting to live.  To value her life and those around her.  To love herself.  And the fact that she’s juxtaposed with Helena -- the fact that the two often have what the other wants.  The fact that Helly is learning that she and Helena are the same and to come to an acceptance of that, is really kind of beautiful.  I really do want her to find happiness and be at peace.  

The complicated feeling…. 

Mark & Helly R. - All season, I’ve struggled with this romantic relationship.  On paper, I get it.  Intellectually.  Narratively.  There is something fascinating in exploring this on multiple levels -- the fact that they’re both in their teenage era, rebellious and finding love for the first time.  The fact that Outie Mark spent a considerable amount of time trying to create a world free of his emotion over Gemma and succeeded.  The conversations I really want to dig into about the whole ‘love transcends severance’ and how it’s more complicated than people are making it out to be.  (I mean, I think I may do a whole other post on it) And I do think a lot of the moments throughout this episode as Mark’s finishing the file are bittersweet in an endearing way.  

Also the choice and the ending of the episode… I like the fact that it’s very - end act 2 - of the show.  It’s very ‘The Graduate’ where they run off with no plan and they’re excited at the prospect of getting this moment together but it’s bittersweet in that they have this moment, but it’s not really going to last.  

But.  Here's my thing.  And I recognize that this is a subjective me thing.  You know how one usually has, like, a swell of emotion when you see the romantic leads have a full on romantic moment?  I… don’t feel anything.  My biggest issue, all season, is that I don’t feel any kind of romance between the two of them.  And - I don’t blame the actors (I already think Britt Lower deserves an Emmy as much as Adam Scott does for this season.)  I just… don’t happen to have that connection to the romance part of the story in the way I know the show wants me to have.  Sorry?  

I honestly think the ending would have hit just a little bit more in the way the showrunners intended if everyone - Helly, Dylan, Irving or no one had been there for Innie Mark to make his choice.  I’m not mad at all at Innie Mark.  I completely understand the narrative.  I just don’t feel anything for the romantic side of Mark and Helly and that’s just gonna be my cross to bear as we move forward, because I know it’s not going away.  

Meanwhile… 

Gemma - Look, as I said, episode 7 just really impacted me.  I’m not sure I can really express the why of it, only that her story did hit in a way that really gave me an emotional reaction.  I fucking adore Gemma.  I love the real and messy relationship Mark and Gemma had.  I felt moved more in those thirty seconds where Outie Mark finds Gemma than anything else this show has thrown at us.  This story just… does it for me, and I mean, I can’t help what I emotionally react to.  It just does.  

So the ending gutted me.  Utterly gutted me to have her there - having gone through everything she’s gone through, and still have such a devastating ending? She needs to be a series regular next season! I need her and Devon to team up (and I really haven’t talked about Devon - but can we take a moment and discuss that she’d be just as gutted to learn her brother was taken hostage - because she would be).  I need the two of them to do what they can from the outside.  Go get your husband back and kick ass, girl.  You deserve it! 

***

Some general thoughts going into Season 3

-This show deserves all the Emmys.  The amount of detail and care that goes into every aspect of the show is masterful, and I think it should get recognized for it. 

-I do think there’ll be a full on Innie rebellion and takeover of Lumon next season.  There’s going to be a power switch, and it’ll be interesting to see how that works out.  

-I'm not going to be surprised if we learned that Gemma, initially, was working with Lumon willingly at first. I think there's set up for that. I still, however, think they lied to her, kidnapped her, and held her against her will. And I don't believe any kind of original agreement warrants that kind of treatment.

-I still want my lore episode.  Give me the history of Kier! Give me the history of Lumon.  Doesn’t need to answer every question (and I’m glad this show is actually pretty open about answering questions) but I’m fascinated as to how we got from Kier to cult corporation.  

-I don’t know that this show can play out past a Season 3? Unless they really stretch the narrative? This feels like a three act story, so I guess we’ll see… 

-This story is a lot about love but also a lot about grief.  I have no idea where they’re going to take it, and I just don’t know if I’d buy some kind of cheesy - timeshare thing between the Outies and the Innies.  Do I think Lumon is ultimately going to get shut down and the severance program discontinued? Yes, I think that’s the ultimate end of the show.  Do I think there’s going to be tragedy along the way? Absolutely.  

And I’ll be here waiting to see how it how unfolds.  

[kierahn]

masterlist.

yandere ! ceo ; [ dance for me. | drabble. | an extra client. ]

yandere ! detective ; [ catch me. ]

yandere ! police officer ; [ game of tag. ]

yandere ! prince ; [ to defy him. ]

yandere ! mafia ; [ russian roulette. ]

yandere ! captor ; [ the (not so) great escape. ]

yandere ! co-worker ; [ photograph. ]

yandere ! chef ; [ drabble. ]

yandere ! assassin ; [ driven. ]

yandere ! milkman ; [ no kissing the milkman. ]

academic rival ; [ fueled by hate. ]

[the-oakwald-ambassador]

The Masks We Wear (11)

Azriel was in a world of hurt. 

Not physically, but emotionally. 

He had flown to his mother’s cabin in Illyria the night prior, overwhelmed with questions that he dare not answer, and sought comfort from the one female he knew to love him unconditionally. 

But instead of talking to her about what was on his mind, he tackled his guilt by confronting her about his father.

They had stayed up all night talking, with Azriel on his knees begging for forgiveness with tears streaming down his face at one point, before his mother sent him back to Velaris to think without truly giving him the absolution he so desperately craved. 

She had said there was nothing to forgive, but there was pain in her eyes as she said it. 

Azriel had assumed it was her years of silent trauma that were still causing her discomfort. 

Had thought he probably looked too much like his father - her abuser - against his will. 

He damned himself for the unrealistic sin the whole way home, only to find a stressed Rhysand mobilizing the entire Inner Circle out the front door upon his arrival.

“I thought the High Lord’s meeting wasn’t until sunset?” Azirel asked, cautiously questioning his High Lord. 

Rhysand spun on his heel, letting out a huge sigh of relief in the morning sun as he dropped down the couple of steps from the threshold of the Riverhouse to where Azriel stood.

“Thank the Mother you’re alright,” Rhysand said as he gripped Azriel close into a hug.

Everyone behind Rhysand looked relieved to see him as well, and it had Azriel questioning if something had happened in his absence. 

“Is something wrong?” Az asked, suddenly going into work mode as the feared Shadowsinger - the Night Court’s problem solver. 

“We were informed last night that you were in danger, boy,” Amren snapped from where she stood in the foyer of the Riverhouse, behind a wide-eyed Morrigan.

“Informed? About me? Why?” Azriel started, before realizing that there was a much larger question to be answered.

By who? He asked Rhysand, mind to mind. 

But his High Lord refused to answer, merely setting his jaw firmly before clapping him on the shoulder and turning back to walk into the house. 

Azriel looked around, but found no answers from the stony-eyed Nesta nor Amren, who had already turned on her heel to follow Rhysand deeper into the hallway. 

The only one left to ask was Mor, who looked ashen and stressed as he approached, like a fawn in the trees,

“Mor? What happened last night?” He asked quietly as everyone else filtered behind him to follow Rhysand into his study, where Cassian, Feyre and Nyx waited. 

“It all happened so suddenly, Az. We were all here, commiserating about the upcoming meeting when we got the call. Kier was frantic apparently, and called Rhys to his home in the Hewn City. When he returned it was directly to his study, with mental orders to vacate the house without question. The next thing we knew, we were awoken with a summons to return here, with the understanding that you were in danger. No one knew what was happening, or why, but most importantly, no one knows why Kier was the one to tell Rhys. I mean, you don’t spend any more time in the Hewn City than necessary, do you?” Mor questioned, borderline out of breath by the end of her spiel.

Azriel’s mind flitted to his dead lover, whom he had spent months doting over in the feared Court below their Mountain. 

He gritted his teeth in shame and guilt, but shook his head no, agreeing with the beautiful Mor.

She nodded, her mind eased but still confused by the whole situation. 

“What matters now is that you’re alright,” she said, as she ushered him towards Rhysand’s study, where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for them. 

“Yeah. I’m alright.” Az acquiesced, though he didn’t feel alright at all. 

___

The meeting was going to be a fucking mess, Eris could already tell. 

His mother stood serene and still on the altar of the throne room, next to her seething and stressed husband. Eris bowed before his father, nodding in respect to his mother before squaring his shoulders and meeting Beron’s glare with his own apathetic yet confident gaze. 

Inside, he was buzzing with anxiety for his mother’s safety and the opportunity to find out what was wrong with Azriel from Rhysand and his Inner Circle.

Cauldron be damned, he might even have to track his mate down for them, leading himself to his godsdamned ruin if need be, just to save his mate.

But on the outside, Eris stood completely composed and arrogant as always, looking collected and flawless in his Autumn Court attire - a velvet overcoat thrown over and buttoned across his broad chest, covering a simple but well made linen tunic and leather pants. His boots came up to his knees, accentuating his long legs, and his ears, neck, wrists, and fingers were dripping with gold and silver. 

His hair was freshly trimmed, kept close to his head in a stylish but practical way. He was, however often forgotten, a feared warrior across Prythian.

The General of the Autumn Court. 

Leader of Beron’s forces. 

First Son of the High Lord.

And he was fucking shaking in his boots. 

By the time his father had stared him down long enough, and both he and his mother had bowed in goodbye and respect to Beron, Eris was almost sweating with stress. 

His mother ran a gentle hand down his forearm as she took his hand to winnow together to Dawn. It was an innocent enough gesture that none of Beron’s guard would report back on it, but it carried a meaning that Eris held dear to his heart. 

It said, I know there is something you’re not telling me, but that is alright, my son. For I forgive you for it already, and I am right here with you. It will be alright, for I will make it so. 

At least, that is what he hoped it meant. 

He gritted his teeth as he slipped her hand into his larger one gently, careful not to cause her any more pain than she had already been subjected to, and vanished them both into clove-scented darkness. 

When they emerged, it was in the gentle sunshine of Dawn’s early afternoon. They were some of the first to arrive, on purpose as had been suggested by Helion when they’d treated - or colluded together - earlier.  

They were shown to their rooms by an innocent-enough handmaiden, and were left alone quickly and silently after Eris brushed them off and his mother gently thanked them for their help. 

“Eris, my dear, what is it?” Liliah, his mother, asked quietly but firmly from where she stood by the door. 

Eris pinched his eyes shut, ashamed of being so scared of this moment. 

“The trade deal, mother. Remember how I was sent to Day with explicit instructions to bargain with Helion?” Eris said, back to his mother still, but turning after he finished to watch her reaction. 

Something deep and hidden shifted in his mother’s gaze, something that looked a lot like pain and longing, at the mention of the High Lord of Day. 

“Yes, darling, I remember” she recovered quickly, though not without being discovered briefly by her son. 

“Access to his port came at a cost - a steep one.” Eris said carefully, watching his mother become more and more confused as he went on. 

“Alright,” she continued, begging him to keep going while maintaining her practiced mask of aloof submission. 

She had taught her sons to wear a mask that served them well in their court of vipers, and while they were all arguably excellent at it, Liliah Vanserra was the damn master. 

“Helion wanted to speak with you. Alone. And I allowed it.” Eris clipped tightly, voice apprehensive and ashamed.

“And why would you do that?” She asked, slipping gracefully into a practiced horror at the mention of being alone with another male who was not her husband. Her abuser. 

“Because it was the only way I could return home to protect you all - you and my brothers. I had to return, and in order to do so, I needed that port. So I sacrificed you and your safety, as I must have learned from my father, in order to get what I needed. I am so sorry, Mother, truly.” Eris confessed, facing her fully by the time he had finished. 

His eyes pleaded for forgiveness, his voice trembled with shame, but still he stood proud and squared to the room in case the High Lord of Day were to walk in unannounced, which Eris had practically invited him to do all those weeks ago. 

Liliah took a moment. 

She closed her eyes. 

She breathed. 

And then she forgave Eris of his trespasses against her, with kindness and love, and ushered him out of their common room to go rest after their journey. 

“I will meet with Helion, my love. Not to worry. I will be safe and discreet, and you will not be to blame if we are discovered,” she said soothingly, pushing Eris towards a nondescript but luxurious bedroom to sleep before the other parties arrived later in the afternoon. 

And so he did. 

Eris slept - fitfully at the very best, but still he slept - and he dreamed only of Azriel. 

Where was he? 

Was he alright? 

Was he scared? 

Was he far away? 

By the time he rose again, it was time to make an appearance on the patios of Dawn to receive the rest of the visiting parties - Night included. 

Eris escorted his beautiful and noticeably more confident mother through the halls of Dawn until they reached the open-skies terraces where Helion and Thesan spoke and laughed. 

Kallias winnowed in a moment later, bringing a heavily pregnant Vivienne with him. He clasped the hands of Thesan and Helion before making his way over to Eris with his mate - bringing the gaze of the High Lord of Day with them. 

Helion followed them over, and after Kallias retreated with Vivienne to settle into their chambers quickly, offered his arm to the lovely Liliah. 

It was too public. 

Too obvious. 

It had Eris clenching his jaw with fear. 

But as he looked at his mother, it was only a quiet adoration and peace in her gaze as she stared beyond him to look at the High Lord of the Day Court. 

And it was gentle love and respect that stared back at her in Helion’s eyes. 

Eris unclenched his jaw and lowered his eyes to watch as his mother met Helion’s extended arm with a gentle hand, allowing herself to be whisked away. 

He looked at where they touched for a moment longer, before warning his mother to be safe and Helion to be discreet and quick, and turned on his heel. 

He found an amused, waiting Thesan next to him when he turned away.

“Mates, am I right?” Thesan quipped, before turning away innocently to await the oncoming party of fae who had just winnowed in. Shock ripped through Eris, but he masked it as a group of fae joined them, winnowing in from wherever, it didn’t matter at all in that moment. 

He smelled the newcomers before he saw them.

Rhysand. 

The Archeron Sisters, the eldest with her mate.

Morrigan and the demon from the Prison. 

Hells, even his youngest brother had arrived.

But that wasn’t what shocked him. 

It was the mist and cedar that wafted to him and called his spirit to turn around quickly - for there he was, not bloodied, not bothered, but totally whole.

Azriel had arrived. 

And he was totally fucking fine.

[momoetry-blog]

Meditation

I light the candles, close my eyes Listening to the soothing tones as the Image credit; Kier in Sight Archives @ Unsplash Guided meditation tries to Guide me towards inner peace, To still my frantic thoughts, To place me in the moment, Focusing on my breathing. Before I know it, I am blinking my eyes Blowing out the candles, And cherishing the calm I cultivated Before tackling the rest…

[shehungthemoon]

🏹Ep. 5

🏹Irv's signs of reintegration are the black paint he keeps seeing... it takes a different form then Helly and Dylan's voices in the break room (which aren't entirely confirmed to be from their own mind anyway), and I guess you could say that Mark's lingering emotions might be a sign of his? Or that he displays no signs at all, which is interesting. The important thing is that Irving has more signs than anybody else that we've met on the severed floor of having his outtie's life bleed over. 

🏹Did Dylan come up with the coup? I don't know who he could've possibly heard it from that wouldn't have also been telling the story to the other members of MDR. If Dylan didn't get the story then that means that Milchick/Cobel has been surveilling their conversations for a lot longer than we thought, and somehow had the resources to create that painting. OR some version of that painting has always existed and the story does not come straight from Dylan, which raises even more questions.*

🏹Dylan G. Jewish hc, he says Kosher. As a matter fact while we're at it, they're all Jewish :)

🏹* Continuing on, Cobel calls what Milchick did "running a 266 on Irving B." which implies that enforcing rumors among the departments is a standard procedure. It makes more sense if these stories are originally created and spread by the higher-ups in the first place, but I think would be interesting if this sort of inner-department lore was actually started by just severed workers and carried on by those in charge. Either way, sowing discord goes directly against one of Kier's principles, so it's interesting that they have procedures in place for it.

🏹I wonder if Casey stands for something (K.C.)

🏹Destroying Petey's map has been tearinggggggg Mark apart and it's so delicious:) angst :))))))

🏹SCREAMING I forgot about Ms. Casey just stopping and saying "Burt G.'s in the conference room." to Irv outta nowhere?????? Like she is WINGMANNING so hard but how on Earth does she know she needs to wingman??? She might've seen them talking for like one second during their first meeting but girl. The intuition on this woman goes hard. She pegged their lovesick gay asses from across hallways 🙏😭🏳️‍🌈

🏹Burt flirting with Irv had my face in my hands I was BLUSHING

All of my Severance thoughts and observations from my rewatch will go here 🥳

[acotrash]

Cursing the Daylight - Eris

Eris head canons inspired from listening to Daylight by Harry Styles 

Eris first spotted you when he was sitting at a little cafe overlooking the Sidra, he was in a bad mood due to a terrible day spent in meetings trying to please Kier and the Court of Nightmares while also trying to please and gain an ally with Rhys and the Court of Dreams he so desperately wanted.

Things did not go as planned, at all. Not with Rhys and his Inner Circle still having a deep rooted dislike and distrust for him.

Eris couldn’t blame them. 

When the meetings ended for the day, he went out to the city in search of someplace to be alone, which is how he stumbled into this cafe. It was late for him, but the city was just coming to life under the crescent moon and sea of stars.

You were a flash of dark purple as you walked into the cafe, your skirt and top hugging off curves and showing off some midriff. Your laugher pierced through the air as Eris made a face in your direction for interrupting the peaceful and cozy atmosphere, interrupting his thoughts of how to win Rhys and his blasted Inner Circle over once and for all

You didn’t even notice the lordling sitting in the corner table, the one closest to the Sidra. No instead your nose was pressed up against the display case containing different kinds of pastries, the kind you were looking for was all sold out. The last one sitting half eaten on a napkin next to a half drunken cup of tea.

Eris watched you, he didn’t particularly want to stare at you, at the pout on your lips as you realized there were no more left of whatever you asked for and instead chose a different kind.

It was then, pastry in hand and a cup of tea in the other when you turned around and saw the Autumn Heir sitting at your table. Eris swore he saw you huff and instead chose a table next to his. You didn’t talk, instead you placed your treat and tea down and curled up on a chair, pulling a book from a little bag hanging off your wrist

You two didn’t talk at all, instead you tried blocking out the lordling and trying to read the words on the page in front of you. It was some book about some ancient gods you found in the bookstore the other day, in a section almost no one goes into. There was a layer of dust on it. You felt bad for the book even though you usually don’t read these kinds usually.

But you couldn’t focus. Your eyes scanning the page but the words not processing, instead you felt a pair of Amber eyes on you. You tried to ignore him and turned a page, dog earring the page so you could go back to the place and actually read it all later.

Eris couldn’t look away. He wasn’t sure why, maybe it was how you looked like you were dressed for a night out at some club, but instead you were curled up in a cafe reading.

After some time, Eris wasn’t sure how long he sat there, his pastry forgotten and tea cold, you stood up, stretching as you uncurled your legs and flashed him a small smile. “You didn’t like your pastry?”

Eris blinked, looking at the table he looked back up to you, the book now back in the bag. He’d been trying to see what you were reading, he wasn’t successful. “They’re my favorite here, make the best ones” you said, not bothering to hear his answer before you were out the door.

Eris returned the following night, half hoping you’d come back. You did. He deliberately took the same seat again, you took the same seat as last time. This time you had a giant cookie but you pulled out a book, the cover was green this time. It matched the hair clip in your hair.

Eris hated that he noticed all of this.

Eris also hated that this nightly routine became his favorite time of day. He didn’t know how it suddenly became routine for him till two weeks later. Every night he’d sit in the same spot, same pastry, same tea but you always changed. Different book, you were working your way through the display case he realized.

You also had a different book he realized too, you never had the same book twice. They all had different colors, some here black, some blue or green, once he saw a purple and pink book. Big and small, long and short. He never saw what kind they were tho, sometimes they were leather bound and looked like the ones in his fathers office back in Autumn. One looked like a romance book Nesta once threw at him after dinner one evening two weeks ago.

You two never talked either. You sat reading, he sat watching you, sometimes he listened to the music playing outside, but mostly he watched you.

He kept his routine the same, convinced if he changed anything you’d disappear, or not come.

But tonight he changed.

He was walking around the city, he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as the shadowsinger and brute Rhysand has for a general, and instead Rhys cut the meeting short. Very short, so instead Eris went walking around the city.

He walked into a bookstore, he wasn’t sure why but he picked up a book with an orange cover. You never had a boom with an orange cover, it was about the Autumn Court, a brief history of it and the traditions and holidays there. It was stuck between books of other courts.

Before Eris could change his mind, he picked it up for you.

When he walked to the cafe, he got two pasteries, saving the one you told him that first night was your favorite, the first and only time you ever talked to him. He got himself some other kind.

He also ordered your tea for you, using a little bit of his magic to keep the tea warm and warm up the pastry.

You came in, like always.

Only he cleared his throat to grab your attention before you could order.

You looked at him with your piercing eyes and Eris tried to not it effect him, instead he nodded his head to the little set up at the same table as his. The new book, pastry and tea.

The corners of your lips turned up slightly. “You got me a book?”

“I also saved you your favorite pastry” eris said watching you walk over, you curled up on the seat across from him. You wordlessly flipped through the book he bought you. “Do, do you have it?”

You shook your head, too engrossed in the book to answer him. Instead your eyes scanned the first page. Detailing different holidays and traditions in the Autumn court. You gently closed the book. Eris noted the faint blush on your cheeks. “Thank you”

Eris shrugged, pouring another sugar packet into his tea. It made it far too sweet than he liked but he’d never admit it.

You picked up your pastry, savoring the first bite before picking up the book again, turning to the first page.

Like always you two didn’t talk, you ate, read and watched all in silence. But when you stood up to leave, Eris stood up too. “Can I walk you home?” “Oh it’s just up the street”

Eris looked a bit defeated but you nodded after “but yeah, you can walk with me” eris stood up again, silently walking next to you. You hugged the book close to your chest. You had a few different books on the different courts, but not this one. It was by far your favorite book.

You stopped at a townhouse with a red door and yellow bricks. “This is me” you said awkwardly. Eris nodded as you opened your front door. “See you tomorrow?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face, as you nodded. “I’ll be at the cafe tomorrow. Thank you again for the book” you said and before you could think better if it, you stood on your tip toes to press a soft and quick kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Eris”

You laughed at his expression, at him realizing that he didn’t know your name. You closed the door, as he stood on your doorstep, the first of the sunrise coming up behind him.

Eris stood there, shaking his head. Maybe he could handle Rhys and his Inner Circle for a while longer, he needed to find out your name after all