#sisters who are ungrateful and unwilling to help even when they have nothing but time and effort to give

[softzindagi]

been a day

[nikethestatue]

Just Breathe

Of Fawns and Shadows

Chapter 7 I know it’s been 3 weeks, but this is almost 60 pages and 23,000 words!

Summary:

The twins teach Elain something about the brothers, and Illyrian males

Elain flexes her magical muscle

We learn much more about Azrie’s background and his mother

Some Prythian history is explained 

Elain pleasures Azriel in a variety of ways that he enjoys

Heavy NSFW elements 

This is a long chapter, but also is a set up for many things that will happen in the future, hints are dropping like bombs!

Tell me what you think. I love reading comments and reactions.

Just Breathe

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”

Pabo Neruda

 Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. 

Yesterday, after the four of them woke up after their impromptu nap, Azriel took her back to the orphanage and stupidly, she almost cried. They stood at the gates, swathed in his shadows to keep the two of them from prying eyes. 

He stroked her hair, then her face, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones, as he murmured endearments to her. 

“Do you want me to come to the River House for dinner tonight?” he asked, hoping to placate her before she unraveled in front of him. But she shook her head stubbornly and pressed her lips to the inside of his palm. 

“They are leaving tomorrow,” he reminded her, and then leaned in and gently kissed her neck. “And you should wear a scarf,” he chuckled.

“I think that I left it at the House,” she looked around, suddenly feeling lost. 

She was returning to the real world, at least for tonight, and it’s not where she wanted to be. She didn’t want to live her regular boring life. She wasn’t interested in going back home after her time with the children, then possibly meeting with city planners, while Feyre and Rhys smiled at her politely, their expressions telling--they were indulging the strange sister who had her singular interests. In exchange for their tolerance, she cooked and baked, and looked after their estate, now that Feyre was busy with their boy. How did she, Elain, become the odd, spinster sister? She didn’t know. 

Up until two days ago, she was utterly miserable. Every day, she’d wake up hating her life, the monotony of it all, while cursing herself for being so selfish and ungrateful. She was living a comfortable, well-tended life where she lacked nothing, where she had people who cared for her, where she could make herself useful, and where she wasn’t burdened by societal expectations. Despite all that, inside, she was hollow. Only her children brought a spark of joy into her life, her children, and the shy, pointless glimpses at Azriel, whenever she managed to lay her eyes on him. Her damn bond pushed and pressured, though over the past few years she’s become accustomed to it, to its tug, its phantom presence which floated inside of her. 

She held Azriel’s hand in hers, unwilling to let go. He kept stroking her face, his thumb on her lips, under her eyes, over her chin and nose.

“Don’t be sad, emani,” he begged. “I hate leaving you like this.”

She wasn’t going to lie to him and say that she was just fine. She wasn’t. 

She wanted her life with him, where it was the two of them and happiness. Was she envious of Cassian and Nesta? Of their wild, passionate, maddening devotion to each other? Perhaps. But she didn’t want what they had. She wanted her own.

“Ahh, I want to come in,” muttered Azriel, looking longingly at the crazily-painted building.

She chuckled sadly, “If you do, they won’t let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be let go.”

He looked down at her, into her sad eyes the colour of amber and then leaned to kiss her hair.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised.

She kissed his hand and then he watched her walk inside the gates.

Something empty and cold settled inside his stomach.

It was late when Elain was walking home. She opted to eat dinner with the children, and then they all had story time and finally, she helped with nighttime rituals of bathing, dressing, tucking and hugging. 

Lex floated next to her, its presence suddenly a comfort to her. She never thought about, never considered that she was unsafe here, in Velaris, but when she turned around, she noticed a trail of shadows. To an untrained eye, they were just that--shadows that spread over walls of the buildings, the cobblestones beneath, stretching and moving the way all shadows did. But now, they were her friends. Her protectors. They were not just an empty, thoughtless, natural entity, but a mysterious sentient thing that cared for her, because its master cared for her. 

“Lex, what do you like?” she asked, surprising herself. She wasn’t intent on having a conversation with a shadow.

“I like stars,” said Lex simply. 

“Stars? That’s beautiful, Lex. But why?”

“Because that’s where I am from. Stardust. The song of the wind and stars created us. Here, we were born at dusk. There were so many of us once before, free to roam and live at dusk, amidst the oncoming darkness and the fading light. Now, there are very few left,”

“Where did the shadows go?” 

“Dusk left and the shadows left with it. Only a few remain now. The master and those who serve him.”

“Are you talking about Azriel?” she was confused. Lex was prone to wax lyrical and talk too much, or too little. 

“Yes, lord Azriel. My master. The last master of all shadows.”

“Hmm,”

“So I am here, with you and my master. Until maybe we return to the dusk with my master. Maybe with you too.”

Elain had no idea what Lex was rambling about, so she let it drop.

With the shadows slithering behind her, she felt safe, protected even, so she walked slower than usual, taking in the evening sights and sounds. Envious again. Envious of all this life around her. Life that bubbled and spilled on the sidewalks; laughing Fae stumbling from bars and public houses, distinguished couples out on their evening walk, lovers holding each other’s gazes and bodies, not seeing and not caring about anyone else. But she...she was invisible. Not because of the shadows, but because that’s what she’d become. Elain the Beautiful. Kingslayer. She now trudged quietly and lonesomely down the streets, wondering when in the world she became a shadow herself? A shadow of her former self, an invisible entity that no one paid attention to? 

The human Elain did not want this sort of life--she enjoyed the balls and the outings, she enjoyed attention and beautiful things, lovely gowns, male company and compliments. And the Fae Elain wasn’t sure if that changed very much--he still liked parties and balls, and nice dresses and dancing. She didn’t want to be quiet and lonesome and obscure. She wanted to glow and sparkle and love and live with adventures and travels.

She felt a beast of wonder prowling under her skin. A beast that wanted to unleash and see the world turned, and reforged. She felt the beast, but feared it--it was her new Fae self, this untamed wild thing that the Cauldron gifted her. She didn’t know what it was, and why it was there, but it beckoned and seduced her with its presence and the thoughts that she had. 

By the time she got home, Feyre and Rhys already retired for the night and she walked to her suite. She sat down on her bed, looking around. 

“Go to sleep, Lex,” she said.

“I am not tired.”

“Then do whatever you want,” she plopped down on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling.

“Why are you sad?” inquired Lex.

“You are the shadow, you tell me,” she muttered, annoyed.

“You are in love with the master.”

“Very astute observation,” she said tartly. 

“Master is not rude like you,” noted Lex. 

She threatened, “I am going to ask the master for a different shadow.”

“No you won’t. I am going to sleep.”

For something that shouldn’t have had emotions, Lex sure seemed like he was angry. 

There was a knock on the door just as soon as Elain changed and put on her robe. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to talk to Feyre, but she hid her grimace and said ‘come in”.

To her great relief, it wasn’t her sister who stood at the door, but the grinning wraiths. What’s more, Cerridwen held a bottle of brandy and a glass, while Nuala held two glasses, which she raised as a peace offering and an invitation.

Elain burst out laughing.

“You seemed in a right mood tonight,” grumbled Cerridwen, as she pushed past Elain and made her way to the small sitting room. 

“So we came to cheer you up!” Nuala followed her sister.

...Thirty minutes later, the three of them were deep into the bottle, buzzed and laughing.

“Aww,” Elain rubbed her temples. “I am not used to drinking every night! I got drunk yesterday,”

They snickered and Nuala winked, “we know!”

Elain blushed, remembering that one of them had been to Azriel’s house to deliver her clothes and toiletries. They knew where she spent the night.

“So,” Cerridwen, stretched out on the sofa, was sipping her drink slowly. Among the three of them, she was an expert at holding her liquor. “Did all that pining between the two of you amount to anything?” she inquired bluntly.

Elain blushed and mumbled about being given a shadow.

Cerridwen rolled her dark eyes and shook her head, “Honey, that’s not what I wanted to hear. Is he any good? As good as they say he is?”

Confused, Elain nodded, “he is good. He is very nice.”

Cerridwen bubbled her lips, shaking her head. Nuala smiled into her glass and said, “Elain, what my sister is so rudely trying to ascertain is whether you’ve made love. I am going to go with a ‘no’, but,”

“No!” exclaimed Elain, blushing profusely.

The three of them had discussed males, and bedding them, without going into explicit details, but this was different. While Cerridwen preferred women, but also enjoyed discussing males and their ‘shortcomings’, Nuala was, used to be, Azriel’s lover. 

“Elain, I don’t care,” assured her Nuala, seeing the panicked discomfort on Elain’s face. She waved her hand, “it’s in the past. Whatever happened,”

“So you can go and jump his bones!” encouraged Cerridwen, raising her glass in a salute.

Still hot, from embarrassment and alcohol, Elain murmured, “it’s not like that...We haven’t,”

“Well, why not?” shrugged Cerridwen. “With those wings of his, he ought to know what he is doing,”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “His wings? what do the wings have to do with anything?”

The twins exchanged meaningful glances, and Nuala laid her head on Elain’s lap, saying, “El, there is still much that you don’t know…”

Elain recalled all the offhand comments that her sisters, Mor, and even Amren had made about wings over the years. The knowing glances and the smirks.

“Is it something sexual?” she sighed at last.

“Of course it’s something sexual!” cried Cerridwen with a laugh. “Have you touched his wings?”

“Why would I touch his wings?”

“Just try it,” encouraged Cerridwen, “see how he reacts!”

“Don’t,” Nuala shook her head, and then pointed an admonishing finger to her sister, “you stop that!”

“Why?!” laughed Cerridwen.

“Elain,” Nuala stroked Elain’s hand, “don’t listen to her. And don’t touch an Illyrian’s wings without permission. They are...sensitive,”

“I thought because it hurts them,” started Elain.

“Oh no. It certainly doesn’t hurt them.”

Elain shrugged. “So, that’s the big deal? Their wings are sensitive to touch?”

“Nu, tell her!” pleaded Cerridwen.

Elain looked down at the sprawled Nuala with expectation.

“It’s the size, honey,” finally blurted Cerridwen, choking on her laughter, “the bigger the wings, the bigger,”

“The cock,” concluded Nuala.

“What?” Elain snapped, blushing deeply. Feyre’s comment from earlier today came back to haunt her. “You two are just teasing me,” she folded her arms on her chest, “it’s not true! You are just saying this because you know that I haven’t been with a Fae male,”

“And what a fine Fae male you’ll get to be with,” Cerridwen whistled and Nuala smiled.

“Well, I am sure that Cassian is,” she began, but Nuala interrupted, shaking her head,

“Oh no. Cassian wants to be the biggest,”

“But our shadowsinger got him beat by a margin,” said Cerridwen meaningfully. “A measurable margin.”

“And Rhysand?” Elain blurted, immediately regretting her outburst. Oh gods. Now she was going to be walking around and eyeing the males’ wings! 

“The High Lord,” said Nuala, “possesses a High Fae endowment.”

Elain waited, knowing that they weren’t done. So Nuala added, “The Illyrians are naturally,”

“Better equipped,” supplied Cerridwen. “Why do you think that the High Fae hate them so much?”

“And some Illyrians exceed even Illyrian expectations, like a certain shad-,”

Elain buried her face in her hands, yelling ‘stop it, stop it, stop it!”

The sisters were laughing at her. “Don't tell me this!” she exclaimed. “I have to face him! What am I supposed to think about now?”

“Probably his cock,” offered Cerridwen unhelpfully.

“Ugh, I hate you both!” she moaned.

Nuala slid her arm around her and butted her shoulder, “Well, take consolation in that he knows what he is doing!”

“Well, I would hope that at 500 years old, he’d know what he is doing,” groaned Elain.

Cerridwen gave her a look. “Hmmm. Don’t bet on it. Males don’t always learn...”

“539,” said Nuala casually.

Elain glanced at her. “What?”

“He is 539 years old. He will be turning 540 soon.”

“When is soon?

“Imbolc,” said Cerridwen. “He and Cassian celebrate it together.”

Elain sat up, asking, “They were born on the same day?”

“Azriel was born on Imbolc.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Elain admitted.

“A holiday to celebrate the Mother. It’s halfway between Solstice and Spring Equinox. It’s a lovely little holiday, without much fanfare...Anyway, he will be 540. Cassian will be 539.”

“But they were born on the same day??”

Cerridwen, despite the alcohol, became serious, almost wistful.

“Well...No one knows when Cassian was born. He was taken from his mother so young and the records were lost, if there was ever even a record of his birth. So, from what we’ve gathered, when they were boys, they’d celebrate together, since Cassian was also born in the winter. After they survived and won the Blood Rite, Azriel offered Cassian his birth day--so they’d always share it together. So ever since they were boys, they’ve celebrated their birth day on Imbolc.”

So, Elain woke up groggy and tired. ‘Woke up’ was probably the wrong term, because she barely slept at all last night. Her head was heavy with the aftermath of the drinking, though she paced herself last night, and wasn’t suffering, unlike yesterday. She knew there wouldn’t be a tonic prepared thoughtfully for her and waiting on the sink counter, so she exercised self-control and let the twins drink. She even promised to make breakfast today, for Cerridwen begged her, knowing that there would be a price to pay for their late night shenanigans. 

Sleeping alone, without Azriel, even after only two nights together, was strange. At least three times during the night, she caught herself reaching for him, for the feel of his hard, warm body in bed with her, only to find cool sheets. It unsettled her. Was she being needy and so dependent on him too quickly? Or was it something else? Was it the Mother, or the Cauldron telling her that she was correct to seek him out--to search for him in her sleep, and when she was awake, and that it was right to need him and want him? 

The house was still quiet, the servants moving silently about the wide corridors, dusting and wiping and watering pants, and curtsying in front of Elain, which was not something she wanted them to do, but they insisted. She snuck into the nursery.

“Good morning, my baby boy,” she cooed at Nyx, who was sitting in his crib, playing with Brute, waiting to be picked up. He knew his aunt was the first one who usually got him roused in the morning, and the moment she entered, he was up, holding onto the slats of the crib, his little wings fluttering excitedly. 

It took Elain a bit of time to learn how to hold him properly, and the wings, their delicate soft bones, their thin, silky membrane scared her and made her terribly nervous. 

By the time Nyx was about to be born, Azriel ‘allowed’ himself back in the house. The relationship between him and Rhys was still strained and oftentimes tense, aggression simmering beneath their skin, that Fae male call for dominance still very much present when they were together. But Azriel, for the sake of other relationships, for the love of the Inner Circle, kept his rage in check, as he always tended to do. But there was happiness, there was a new and beautiful life that came about after so much strife and sorrow and danger that it would be petty and dishonest not to celebrate it. So Nyx was responsible for patching things up between the adults, at least on the surface. 

That day, after the brutal birth and Nesta’s sacrifice, Feyre finally fell asleep, with Rhys by her side. Nesta was recovering, and Cassian was freaking out, worrying about everybody. He and Mor were running around, arranging for things and taking care of formalities, but Elain was left to oversee Nyx. That’s how they bonded, Nyx and his aunt, who loved him from the moment he emerged into the world. But she was scared to pick him up, unsure of what to do with the wings, and how to position him in the crook of her arm.

“Like that,” said Azriel softly, emerging from the shadows, watching her try to pick the baby up. His scarred hands gingerly cradled Nyx, and then he laid him into Elain’s waiting arms. “Make sure that the wings drape over your arm, like this,” and he showed her. Nyx settled at once, quiet and content. “Perfect,” Azriel almost smiled. “You are a natural with an Illyrian babe.”

Those words haunted Elain to this day.

“Lana!” Nyx yelled, lifting his arms in the air. She picked him up, and he threw his short arms around her in their morning greeting. She changed him, dressed him and then, following his command ‘Boot!’ grabbed Brute and went downstairs.

But she soon became aware that she wasn’t the only one awake. 

Passing by Rhysand’s office, she heard familiar voices--the three males. Colour flooded her cheeks as she quickly scurried by the door, hoping that they wouldn't hear her and she could avoid them. After last night’s conversation about the wings and the wingspans and all those other things, she really had no desire to face them. Had no desire to stand before them and sneak peeks at their wings and compare.

However, as soon as she put Nyx down in the kitchen, a dark shadow tapped on the reeses of her mind and she allowed him in. ‘Elain, please join us in the study,’ said Rhysand. Before she could even respond, he added, ‘His nanny is coming.” Unsurprisingly, Nyx’s nanny appeared in the kitchen the next moment. Elain greeted her with a forced smile and then walked to the office. She smoothed her skirt before entering, without knocking. 

The three males were standing around the desk, all had their arms folded on their chests. What in the seven hells did she walk into? Cassian looked at her, his eyebrow arched and then smiled his spectacular smile and somehow, immediately, eased her worries.

“‘Morning baby girl!” He greeted her, and then went to hug and kiss her cheek, when Rhys cleared his throat. A formal conversation then. No room for informalities. Elain therefore, reached on her tiptoes and kissed Cassian’s cheek. “Good morning, Cass!” she said cheerfully, and then with great pretend indifference she inclined her head towards Azriel. “Az.” He was in full uniform, which jolted her somehow, for she was used to seeing him in normal, civilian clothes lately. Him in uniform always made her a little uneasy.

“What are you doing here, petal?” asked Cassian.

“I asked Elain to join us,” explained Rhys. Perhaps for her sake, he went behind the desk and sat down. Crowded by three enormous Illyrians, she looked like a tiny flower in a dark forest. Azriel and Cassian were the same height and she only reached under Azriel’s armpit with the top of her head. Rhys was only just a tad shorter than the two. Or maybe he sat down to assert dominance and remind everyone who was the High Lord. Either way, Elain did not care. She and Rhys played these little power games all the time. She, for example, wore blue exclusively since Solstice. Every shade, every hue, but always blue. Just so he’d be reminded whom she loved. Gone were the pink and pale gowns of her human life, now replaced by her Fae wardrobe, which spoke volumes about where her allegiance lay. 

Cassian and Azriel exchanged somewhat confused glances, but did not say anything, waiting for Rhys to explain.

“You are aware that Feyre and I are leaving for Winter Court later today.”

She nodded.

“Mor is coming along.”

He tapped his fingers on the shiny mahogany surface and then stated,

“You are the only remaining person with...power,” 

Both males whipped their heads at him, then at her.

“What do you mean ‘power’?” asked Cassian.

Shadows wafted around Azriel, his face inscrutable, but his posture tense. 

“Elain is the only one who still possesses Cauldron-given powers. Nesta’s have been considerably diminished, and Amren doesn’t have anything of significance left. Unless one of you wishes to escort us to Winter, and leave Mor here, Elain is the only remaining Fae with extraordinary powers. Hence, I’d like to ask you,” he looked at Elain, “to consider protecting Velaris should the need arise.”

“Rhys,” began Azriel, but Elain interrupted him and nodded, “Of course. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, though I hope we have no need for it.”

Cassian glared at her, “What kind of powers you got, El?”

“And how do you know that she has powers?” challenged Azriel, his face darkening, hazel eyes boring into Rhys.

“We had a conversation,” said Rhys calmly, “and Elain chose to...showcase her powers.”

“Showcase them?” repeated Azriel. “Wonder what sort of conversation the two of you were having?”

“That’s between my sister-in-law and myself,” began Rhysand, but Cassian stepped in and said, “cut the horseshit, everyone. What is going on? How do you know that she has powers? She never demonstrated them,”

“He pressured her,” Azriel gritted out. His siphons came to life, flickering and filling with their cobalt life, and in response, Rhys’s power woke up, slithering around him and then extending into the rest of the office like a dark beast. Azriel took a step towards Elain. She, in turn, remained unfazed by the display, her icy Archeron flame blazing in her brown eyes.

“I did not pressure her,” corrected Rhysand, “I simply made a request as her High Lord and she did not take kindly to it,”

“I reminded Rhysand that he is not my High Lord,” Elain chimed in coolly.

“It seems that I am,”

Azriel raised his hand and ordered, “Back off, Rhys.”

“You shouldn’t force her to reveal her power, Rhys,” Cassian said, all amusement and humour gone from his voice. “Especially alone--it’s unchecked. Do you recall what happened with Nesta?”

Rhysand shrugged, “I wasn’t asking Elain to scry.”

“Rhysand,” Azriel’s voice was grave and so cold, it sent an actual chill down Elain’s spine. “You want to ask something of me, go ahead. Hells, if you want to order me and pull rank,”

“I don’t pull rank,”

“You pull rank all the fucking time,” growled Azriel. “But I swore an oath to you and I will serve you to the best of my abilities. She,” he jerked his chin in Elain’s direction, “is off limits.”

“Not when it concerns the stability and safety of my court,” parried Rhysand.

Elain glanced at him with disdain and almost wrung her fingers, before stopping and simply dropping her arms at her sides. Somehow, the movement centered her. 

“I have never jeopardized the stability of your court,” she almost snarled, but stood still and tall. “If I may be so bold, but I remind you that without me, you wouldn’t have won the war. I was the one who found the Suriel for Feyre, which resulted in turning the tide of the war. I stabbed the King of Hybern. Because of my vision, my mate located Vassa and forged alliances with the humans,”

At the word ‘mate’ Azriel flinched. It did not escape Cassian’s attention.

“And,” she stopped abruptly, pursing her lips. “I’ve said enough,”

“What else did you do?” asked Cassian, turning fully to her, his eyes narrowing.

Elain felt herself bursting with strange, tingling energy. The males’ wings twitched, almost flaring, as they all glared at each other and it felt stifling in the room, despite its vast size.

“Nothing, Cassian,” she snapped at him. “Think!”

Power rumbled. The air filled the scent of jasmine. Siphons flared, just as shadows swarmed. Elain barely felt Lex’s cool touch against her hand, as it tried to calm her and bring her back. Lex did not lunge to protect her, only fluttered about, serving as a diffuser. Azriel’s shadows went wild, concealing him almost entirely. He remained steady, but she noticed his thumb stroking the hilt of Truth-Teller.

“Aright!” Cassian stepped forth, arms raised, “alright. That’s enough. From you, Cauldron Princess,”

At that, Azriel snarled and Elain rolled her eyes. 

“And you, Your Darkness,” Cassian glared at Rhys. “Settle the fuck down everybody. You want to take it outside and have a go at it,”

“No,” snarled Azriel. “You wait with Elain outside. And I will have a talk with my High Lord.”

Cassian chewed his lip, but made to take Elain’s hand, following Azriel’s order. Yet, she did not budge.

“I am not a girl to be ordered around,” she shrugged Cassian’s hand off her shoulder. “I am a woman, and you’ll all treat me with the same deference that you afford your mates. As I promised,” she looked at Rhys, “I will protect and defend Velaris and its people to the best of my abilities, if I am called upon to do so. You,” she turned to Azriel, her gaze unflinching, “are not asked to fight my battles for me. I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and standing by them. And yes, I know that my power is untapped and largely undiscovered, but I don’t need to be provoked into displaying it. I am not a wild beast to be poked and prodded in order for me to unleash. Now,” she glanced at the clock, “I am late for my children. Have a nice trip.”

“I’ll fly you,” offered Cassian softly, gently stroking her shoulder.

“Thank you, but no need. I’d rather walk.”

Without a second look at both Rhys and Azriel, she turned around and left the room.

Azriel’s face remained impassive and he made no move to follow her, but Cassian saw it--Elain’s cold indifference would torment his brother for the rest of the day. Elain’s rejection, however small, her denial of Azriel’s protection, her calling Lucien her ‘mate’ would grate on Azriel’s psyche with relentless self-flagellation. They all had their demons to fight, but Azriel, perhaps, had the most. 

Elain grabbed her jacket, so riled up that she couldn’t get her arms into the sleeves. A sleepy Feyre appeared at the top of the stairs, but before she could ask, Elain walked out the door and into the cold. She shivered. Her body felt hot, still brimming with that energy, the anger and whatever else floated inside of her. Unlike Nesta, she didn’t hate her power, for it gave her a measure of self-control, or protection, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to use it just yet. Sooner or later, she’d have to learn.

“You’ve upset the master,” announced Lex. It trailed her faithfully, sort of latched onto her shoulder.

“I am not discussing this with you,” she snarled.

“The General is also upset,”

“Alright, wonderful, everyone is upset with me. Great. You happy?”

“Not particularly.”

“Mind your own business.”

But Elain was upset. She didn’t mean to lash out at Azriel. She didn’t mean to call Lucien her ‘mate’. But, like all Fae males, Azriel was over-protective and became aggressive when she was challenged, instinctively standing up for her, as she was his female. But she did have powers and she could handle Rhys herself, and didn’t need Azriel’s involvement. Especially if it created bad blood between him and Rhys--Mother above there was already plenty of it.

She walked quickly, cooling off with every step, her emotions running high, and 

feeling both sad and cold, as she huddled in her jacket. She forgot her scarf. She’d upset Azriel. She sort of fought with Rhys. She was hungry. She didn’t feed Nyx, leaving him behind with the nanny. So far, this was a fantastic morning!

The children greeted her happily, hugs and kisses, and for a moment, she forgot everything, lost in the sense of familiarity and joy, the loud tales of their petty squabbles, the who did what, what they had for breakfast, and much more. She forgot everything, until Temal bounded and wrapped her around the legs in his usual fashion.

“Good morning, love,” she smiled at him, trying to smooth his thick, black hair. He looked at her with his perpetually eager enthusiasm and quickly asked, “Lain! Where is Az? You know, Lain, I read so much myself and I have to show him, because I have to read with him. And then we go fly. Where is Az?” he kept looking around, holding her hand, chewing his lip, his eyes darting about the hallway. He was used to having Elain come with Az every morning now, and Azriel’s absence perplexed him.

He tugged on her hand and demanded impatiently, “Where is Az, Lain?”

“Good morning to you too,” she said softly. “Let’s all go outside for our morning,”

“Where is Az?” he asked again, concern-lacing his voice now, his eyes dimming.

He kept looking around.

“Is he coming?” he asked impatiently, still hopeful.

But Elain’s slight hesitation was all that Temal needed to murmur sorrowfully,

 “He don’t want to come no more?”

“No, he does,” Elain began, but he interrupted her, angrily, throwing her hand off his shoulder,

“No he doesn't! He doesn’t want to fly no more. He doesn’t like us,” his eyes were instantly brimming with tears.

Now other children were overhearing them and their faces were showing the same disappointment as Temal’s, though there was something like devastation written on his.

“Go get your jacket,” she told him, and he let go of her entirely, head hanging low, shuffling to the coat racks. 

Other children came over to her, asking the same question, looking concerned and upset. Elain felt terrible, hating how this made them feel, being abandoned and feeling unimportant, again. She didn’t know what to say to them. How to explain.

“Azriel will come back,” she assured them, but he wasn’t here, and her assurances fell on deaf ears.

Slowly, the children shuffled outside, the mood subdued. It was quiet, as they meandered along the courtyard, some of them climbing and others getting on the swings, swinging halfheartedly.

Temal went all the way to the back of the yard, towards the wall, and absently dragged a stick in the dirt, drawing something in the mud. Elain left him be for the time being, as she sat with the younger children around the table for their lesson. But attention wasn't on her. Every time a shadow passed by the door, all heads turned that way, necks craning, and then--a wave of disappointment. While Elain helped the little ones with their tasks, Lex informed her “your boy is very upset.”

“I know, Lex,” she sighed.

“He thinks that the master’s abandoned him.”

Elain did not respond.

Lex offered, “do you want me to go and play with him?���

“No, I’ll go and talk to him,” she got up and walked over to Temal.

“Temal,” she called out to him, but he wouldn’t face her and just mumbled, “I don’t wanna talk, Lain.”

“Why not?” she asked gently. 

“I don’t want to,” he shrugged, digging deeper into the mud with his stick.

“Is it about Azriel?”

Silence.

“Tem-,”

He turned to her, his face stained with tears.

“Why he don’t come, Lain? Why?”

Temal, like all Illyrians, was not much of a crier. Whether hurt, in a fight, or upset, he never cried, and simply walked away and dusted himself off. This much emotion was completely foreign to him, yet tears ran down his sharp cheekbones. 

“I don’t know why he leave me, Lain,” he sniffled. “Everybody leave me…” he added. “My ma--I don't know her. Maybe she was good, but she leave me,”

“Your mother did not leave you, Temal,” 

“She did,” he argued. “But you know, I am happy with my mali. We have a good life, and then my mali go away and he...He go to Vallahalla, and I never see him again. He leave me too,”

She paled, not knowing what to say. 

“Your mama and mali loved you though,” she said softly, “so much,”

He wiped his tears with his palm and said, “why they leave then? They don’t love me,”

“My mama and mali also left me,” she told him, “but I know that they loved me,”

“I like Az and I think he like me too, but now he doesn’t even come,” Temal shrugged. “And I think that Sunni is sad too, because she likes him, and she don’t even talk.”

“Temal,” Elain said firmly, “Azriel never goes back on his world. If he said he will come, then he will,”

She sounded so confident that Temal looked up at her, at last. 

And then, his face broke into a thousand smiles or pure joy and awe. Sprinting past Elain, he rushed to the other side of the yard. She was smiling, even without looking, sensing the commotion. 

“Well, hello Illyrians!” bellowed Cassian, “and the rest of you, future warriors! Are you ready to train?”

A deafening scream of ‘yes!’ was the response.

Elain turned around. The two gigantic Illyrians swaggered through the doors, and stood, arms folded, observing the mass of children before them.

The children stared. Stared in awe. Stared at the Commander General. In front of them, in the flesh. Even these orphans knew who he was, recognised him immediately, and now gawked, unable to tear their eyes from him, from his colossal, towering presence. 

“Elain here said that some of you want to learn how to fight?” he asked breezily.

Eyes lit up and waves of eager nods rippled across the gathered children.

“Well then,” he decided, “I guess you got yourself a teacher. Az and I are going to be teaching you how to fly and how to fight. Is that good?”

Oh, it was good.

And then Elain snorted a laugh, when Sanaai came upfront, ignoring Cassian completely, as she raised her arms in silent command before Azriel. He picked her up and she immediately found her place against his chest. 

Cassian began commandeering at once, while Azriel quietly made his way to Elain.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello,” she looked at him and then there was an uncomfortable pause. Then he reached into his jacket and withdrew her scarf that she’d left behind in the house, when she was so eager to escape. Wordlessly, he draped it over her neck and then wrapped it around carefully, watching her the entire time. She shuddered from the warmth. From his thumb brushing against her jaw.

“Az!” Temal wrapped around Azriel’s legs, “you came!”

“Of course I came,” said Azriel, surveying the boy’s face. “Were you crying?”

“No!” Temal flushed. “I don’t cry. But I happy. You came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” assured him Azriel. “Now run and get in the formation.”

Once Temal was gone, Azriel looked at Elain and asked her seriously. “Why was he crying?”

She brushed her fingers against his own and said, “He thought that you would not be coming.”

Sanaai shifted in his arm and looked up at him, indicating that she, perhaps, thought the same.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ve never doubted you. In anything.”

Elain stopped at the Palace of Bone and Salt after she’d left the orphanage.

Feyre informed her that everyone was in Winter, that it was beautiful and there were ice castles and sleds and ice rinks everywhere, and that Nyx took well to his first winnowing and was now ogling polar bears and eating a cinnamon and cranberry scone. 

It all sounded very nice, but Elain secretly winced--she hated winter. She didn’t like the cold, and no amount of mulled wine, snowmen, pine decorations or spice cakes could ever change her mind. Winter always harkened back to the days of their poverty, the freezing cold in the hovel, the dark, dreary evening, endless, endless nights spent in silence or bickering. 

No, Elain loved the light, the sun, the warmth of spring and summer. She loved the scent of flowers, the regeneration of earth, the waking of all life. She dreamt of visiting a beach one day, especially after Feyre had described Adriata to her. So polar bears and roasted chestnuts could stay forever in Winter Court for all she cared.

“What are you going to buy?” asked Lex, flitting and gliding nosily the produce stands.

“Ingredients for dinner obviously.”

“What are you going to make?”

“Shouldn’t you know? Isn’t it your job?”

“No, I don’t know. But once you select something, then I will know.”

Dealing with Lex was often akin to talking to Temal, yet Elain enjoyed it. She came to depend on her gossipy, opinionated shadow in the past few days and somehow, having it near her brought her a sense of camaraderie, almost a friendship. She began understanding how Azriel felt with his shadows, how they took him out of his unbearable loneliness once he learned their language, and how something similar was happening to her right now. Because she’s been lonely, so lonely and hopeless, and solitary, and if it weren’t for the twins, she didn't know what she’d do. Perhaps, the male who’s been just as lonely most of his life knew how to recognise the signs, knew how to read her and her emotions and saw inside. He was always the only one who saw. When nothing made sense in her life, he was able to offer a semblance of peace, or normalcy. Even something as simple as treating her respectfully and kindly, without looking at her with confused concern was sometimes enough to bring her out of her emotional stupor.

Elain’s made her decision as soon as Feyre told her about the trip to Winter Court.

So, as she loaded her basket with chicken, rosemary, lemons, bread, apples and pears, her resolve only grew. Once she paid, she told Lex ‘take me home’. 

“You don’t know where your home is?”

She sighed and clarified, “Your master’s home’.

“Oh good, let’s go,” Lex perked up at once. “Master will be happy if you are there. He always wants you to be there, you know.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know if Azriel, in fact, wanted her there. Yes, he gave her the key, but was it appropriate for her to just barge in and make herself comfortable? She didn’t know. Elain was a polite and proper person, with good manners, who always behaved appropriately in all situations. She wasn’t the snarling Nesta, or, at times, incomprehensible Feyre. She was Elain, who’d let the three Fae males into her house, who cleared it for them to conduct their business and who convinced Nesta to host the queens. She even managed to charm the Cauldron--whatever that meant. She could do many things, but this step was something entirely different. She was taking it for herself. 

She vaguely recalled where the building was located, but Lex led her along the streets with confidence, yakking away the way only it could, while she barely paid attention, growing more and more nervous the closer they came. And then, at last, behind a little square, she eyed the building decorated with etched jasmine and moonflowers. She stopped and looked up. It was a long way up to the….she counted...twelfth floor. This must have been one of the tallest buildings in Velaris. 

“Let’s go,” urged her Lex.

Elain swallowed and then crossed the little square and opened the door into the building’s foyer. There was a wide, winding marble staircase. She sighed, bracing herself for the climb. With her basket it was going to be a trek. 

When she climbed to the fourth floor, Elain stopped, panting. Was she out of shape? Probably. Perhaps Cassian was right, and she needed to come to her senses and do some exercises, but she was never going to tell that to him. Admitting any kind of defeat to Cassian meant a lifetime of taunts.

“Are you going to go all the way up on your own two feet?” asked Lex casually. 

She was huffing, and waved him off, muttering, “whose feet am I going to be going on?”

“I can just take you there,” Lex suggested.

She looked at its dark form, floating playfully around her. When it was just the two of them, Lex did whatever it wanted and didn’t stay true to the laws of physics, so it bobbed and bounced however it wished.

“You can?”

“Yeah,”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier and made me,”

“You didn’t ask,” it reminded her.

“I really hate you sometimes,” she groaned, while it enveloped her in its dark mist and the next moment, they were upstairs, standing by the door.

“Thanks,” she said. “Why didn’t you just take me inside the apartment?”

“I can’t,” Lex admitted. “Only you and the master can enter. No one else, without your permission. Even us.”

“Oh,” Elain didn’t know if she was surprised, flattered or proud, or maybe all of the above, as she opened the door and entered.

Azriel and she only exchanged a few words today, after the children’s training, when they were all moaning and groaning from their aches and pains. Elain pulled Cassian and Az aside and warned them to be gentler and more careful, and that this wasn’t an actual Illyrian training camp. Cassian tried to argue, but she gave him a brief ‘Archeron stare’ and that was the end of the conversation. Luckily, the two did bring two bags full of balms and salves with them, for all the scratches and tender muscles. They had stopped at the apothecary and that is why they were late coming in the morning. 

Azriel only said that he’d see her ‘later’, and that he was going to work. No indication of when and where he’d see her, and considering that he was in uniform, with at least four siphons, ‘work’ didn’t sound like a relaxing endeavour. But she didn’t ask, and only smiled and hid her worry inside. 

So she hung her jacket, removed her boots and her scarf that Azriel always insisted on, because she ‘could get a cold’ without it, according to him. She wasn’t even sure if Fae got colds, but his obsessive protectiveness was still adorably endearing. 

“Lex, can Nuala or Cerridwen understand you?” she asked as she walked to the back of the spacious apartment and stopped in the bedroom. 

“Yes. Why?”

“Can you go and ask them to bring me my clothes?”

“No.”

She whipped her head and stared at the dark stain in the corner of the room. “Why not?” she demanded. 

“Because I am not permitted to leave you,” Lex explained. 

“Even if I order you?”

“You can order me to do other things, but I can’t leave you.”

She gave an exasperated snort, but Lex announced in his usual, non-chalant way “If you need clothes, they are already here.” It flew to the closet and Elain followed, and when she opened the door to the impressively enormous wardrobe, there they were--a rack hung with some of her dresses and skirts, and inside a glass lined cabinet, there were personal items, stockings and hose and tights and underthings. Everything was arranged simply and precisely, in a way that implied that she was expected, wanted and belonged here. It somehow made her belly soft and warm, like a cluster of butterflies skidded over her skin, though she ordered herself to think rationally. This was hardly different from when Nesta moved into the House of Wind and began living with Cassian and Azriel. It was probably just as,

Oh, gods, who was she kidding?

Of course it was different!

Nesta didn’t move into Cassian’s room. 

Cauldron, was she really about to live with a man? well, a male? Just...live with him? Sleep with him in the same bed? She had no idea what she was doing! She’d never lived with a man...and, and, surely he had expectations. What were her own expectations? She certainly, well, she certainly desired him. Wanted him. But beyond her mild fantasies, she didn’t even know what she wanted precisely. A part of her yearned to live that wild, unbridled passion that she saw with her sisters, but her sisters were more experienced by the time they’d met their mates and then there was the damn mate bond. Theirs, surely, worked very differently from hers. Yet all that screaming, and panting, and moaning -- she truly had no idea where it came from with them. Whatever she felt with Greyson was reasonably pleasant, especially the second time around, but it certainly didn’t inspire any groaning or panting from her. She’d seen Cassian’s lacerated back, raked over with Nesta’s nails. What could inspire such passionate violence? Besides, she didn’t even have nails--hers were trimmed rather short, though she at least put varnish on them. 

And now she was here. Awkwardly taking off her skirt and cardigan, to change into something...well, he liked her in his shirt, so she searched to locate a stack of plain, informal shirts, which were all kind of the same and took one. Paired with leggings, to which she grew rather accustomed lately, taking after Feyre’s penchant for them, she figured that she looked decent. She’d never worn trousers or pants outside, or when she knew that there would be visitors, but alone with Nyx, or when it was just Feyre and Rhys and her, she didn’t care. Rhys cared even less. Three nights ago, she noticed Azriel’s utter shock, mixed with such obvious desire when he saw her in her tights, for the first time. She didn’t think that he even tried to hide it. So if that is what made him happy, then she was going to wear it.

She didn’t dwell in the bedroom for much longer, lest it made her too nervous and bombard her with unwanted thoughts.

Without Azriel’s perfectly distracting perfection to scramble her brain as it always happened when he was around, she took the time to look around, though she still didn’t allow herself to touch anything. Back in the kitchen--her domain--she began unloading her purchases on the sleek marble counter, and then spotted a familiar item on one of the side tables--a Symphonia. She turned it on and as she began preparing dinner, the music selection came as a surprise to her, an interesting insight into Azriel’s mind. 

The Symphonia wasn’t filled with waltzes and minuets of Nesta’s preference, but with lots of dance music--not something she’d expect from the quiet, solemn Azriel. There was folk music, and fast, melodious songs, as well as music from what Elain assumed were other courts. Curiously, she definitely heard songs and dances of Human Lands, some of which she used to sing as a girl, as well as Illyrian melodies--haunting and glorious. Lex, as it turned out, liked music as well, as it informed her ‘I like stars and music and flowers!’ Lex, apparently, was a romantic and a dancer to boot, because the faster the musical numbers, the more Lex bounced around the kitchen. “You dance well!” Elain complimented it, as Lex swooshed and bobbed and floated, wrapping itself around Elain’s hips, as she ground and writhed against the counter, waving her knife and her tasting spoons in the air. It was probably a good thing that Lex was a shadow.

‘Master doesn’t dance like you!’ Lex half-complained, half-praised.

“We’ll get him to dance with us,” promised Elain.

Behind them, a male cleared his throat and Elain and Lex halted their dancing abruptly.

Azriel was standing, propped against the wall, arms folded on his chest, a smile on his lips.

Elain flushed. Happy.

“Glad to hear that the two of you are conspiring against me,” he chuckled.

“You are home,” she whispered.

“You are home as well,” he said, peeling away from the wall. He extended his hand and she came over to him and took it, and he pulled her to him. Elain slipped into his embrace and he murmured into her hair ‘dance with me?” His jacket was still cold from the flight and she shivered when she wrapped her arms around his torso. He pushed her head into his chest and they swayed to the music, he leading her into a slow, languid spin across the room. The melody switched to something slower and more sensual just in time, and he smiled against her head that smelled so delicately of jasmine. Perhaps the gods were smiling upon him today, after all.

“Are you tired?” she asked, her voice muffled by the press of her face into his chest.

She held him so tightly, so desperately, it was as if he’d just returned from war, and not a day of work. Granted, he had to make a quick trip to the human lands and back, but she didn't even know that. 

“No, love,” he said, “not tired at all. Especially not when you are here.”

It did not escape him that Elain had called this place ‘home’.

“I am just glad to see you here,” he admitted, and then finally pulled her face away from his chest and gently grasped her chin in his scarred fingers, making her look up.

“Is it alright?” she asked, unsure. “That I am here?”

“Is there any other place you’d rather be?” he challenged, his eyes twinkling with a teasing delight. “Is this not the place where you belong?”

“With you,” she gasped, reaching up and stroking his cheek in her warm hand that smelled of apples. “Only with you.”

He kissed the inside of her palm and concurred, “only with me.”

“I only want to be with you,” she nodded. Whatever happened between them in the morning seemed to have been forgotten. Azriel didn’t forget, but he was going to bring it up later.

He slung his arm around her shoulders, knowing that she would not be happy if he released her. 

Gods, he was leashed! This golden pink girl with her chocolate-brown eyes wrapped him and wrung him and remade him into something utterly new. With her, he was a man reforged. A sharp, brutal edge that  always lived inside of him, that cut deep and unflinching, was somehow dulled by her, as if she managed to tame the cruelest parts of him, at least when they were together.

“So, what smells so fantastically?” 

Her soft small hand was stroking his back continuously, and Azriel wondered if it was to remind him that she was with him, and that she was his. Or, perhaps, to reassure herself that he was with her. 

“Chicken!” she announced, burying her face in his arm, smelling the delectable scent of him, mixed with cold air and wind. He began unbuttoning his jacket, as they made their way into the kitchen but she swept his fingers aside and took over the task. She wouldn’t release him, and Azriel...well, he never wanted to be released. She was soft and warm under his arm, fitting into him with some inexplicable, magical precision, as if she was wrestled out of his body once and now they were put together again. He, who detested human touch with such vicious dislike, he, who did not enjoy the feel of anyone’s hands on him, often not even in the bedroom, he couldn’t get enough. 

She pulled his jacket off at last, while he stroked her petal-tender cheek with the backs of his fingers, “Chicken?”

She nodded, and then kissed his cheek. “It’s the best chicken you’ll eat!” she promised.

“I bet,”

“No, it’s so good, you’ll want to marry me!”

He laughed, amused by her excitement and this self-praise that was unlike her, “Well, I’ll still marry you, regardless of the merits of this chicken,”

Elain’s eyes shot up and she looked at him, biting her lower lip. 

It was the second time in just as many days that he said that he’d marry her. The words fell from his lips with ease and confidence. As if he really wanted to do just that. As it was inevitable. He looked down at her, reading her question, the hopeful expectation in her eyes. 

He gently pressed his thumb to her lower lip and pulled it down from under her teeth.

“Just say the words,” he murmured, kissing her forehead.

She snorted and said, “I am not marrying a man who hasn’t even kissed me yet!”

Azriel laughed and nodded his agreement. “I wouldn’t either,” he said, taking her hand and leading them to the bedroom. 

She plopped on the bed, tucking her legs under and watched him chuck off his layers. The shadows swarmed and picked everything up, with each item disappearing in the dark smoke. 

“They are useful,” she noted, somewhat amazed at what she was observing.

“They are indeed,” he nodded, and then asked, “how’s Lex? Is it,”

“I am good!” interjected Lex.

“Really. And was I asking you or Elain?” 

“I am good,” repeated Lex, with even more conviction. “You can ask her, but I am very good and nice too.”

“Nice and good,” hummed Azriel, while Elain was trying to stifle her laugh.

“So, is Lex nice and good?” Azriel asked at last.

She could almost sense the shadow’s nervousness and therefore, said, 

“Lex has its moments.”

Hiding his smirk, Azriel proposed, “You want another one?” 

“No!” Lex whirled right in front of them, jumping back and forth between the two. “Elain likes me!” it insisted. “Elain, tell the master that you want only me.”

She sighed and nodded, “Yes, Lex, I only want you. We are good friends.”

Placated and smug, Lex calmed down and rested on Elain’s lap.

Azriel was laughing softly.

“So how did this wearing of my shirts come about?” he inquired, watching her watch him. He undressed slower than usual, for her benefit. But secretly, he couldn’t get enough of those huge innocent eyes looking him up and down, glaring at every bit of revealed skin, raking him with a hungry gaze. Her lower lip was clamped between her teeth again, and it drove him insane...to be watched like this, with those brown eyes so filled with desire and that plump, pink lip. Perhaps he should just pull that lip with his teeth, kiss it, lick it, bite it...marry that plump lip and its owner, everything be damned.

Elain shrugged, “It wasn’t anything romantic, if that’s what you are hoping for,”

“Oh, you wound me,” he clutched at his chest dramatically. “And here I thought that you were so starved for my scent that you hunted down my shirt,”

“Pfff,” she rolled her eyes, “dream on, batboy!”

Azriel couldn’t remember when he laughed so hard. Her pure, absolutely delectable dismissal of him was just precious. And ‘batboy’?

Once he finally stopped hollering, and she snickering, Elain said, “Nyx puked on my dress one time, so as I was carrying him, while he was screaming, and we were both covered in vomit,”

“Yes, that is not a romantic story,” he agreed.

“I saw your shirt on the chair, and grabbed it, and since it’s long enough to basically be a dress, I just changed into it and that’s how it came about. Also,” she ran her fingers over the sleeve, “you have very nice shirts,”

“Yeah?”

“Soft and well-made. Such fine material, even for this simple shirt.”

“Small pleasures,” he shrugged, now completely undressed, save for his black undershorts. His wings fluttered loosely behind his back, relaxed. 

Elain cocked her head, watching him.

“I’ll go wash up,” he said, though didn’t move, enjoying her unblinking, intense scrutiny. “Care to join?” It didn’t hurt to offer. One day, she might just surprise him.

“I would,” she whispered, her throat bobbing at the sight of him, “but my chicken says otherwise.”

“Ahh, well, the chicken,” he nodded. “It needs more tending to than Nyx.”

Once Elain returned to the kitchen, she let out a long, ragged breath. Watching Azriel--an almost naked Azriel--was the best, and the worst experience. He was almost criminally handsome, and when he extended his casual invitations to her to join him she fought the urge with every fibre of her being. She had to still her breathing, recalling every detail of his bronze body; the dangerous cut of all his muscles, that powerful chest, arms so thick with muscle and sinew that back in the human lands someone would call them ‘tree trunks’. The tapered waist, and that vee that slid smoothly away from his narrow hips...gods...And that gorgeous nonchalance of his entire bearing--who ever thought that Azriel was bashful and demure? But perhaps, it was just for her. All of it was just for her. His relaxed easy confidence was reserved only for the person that he felt utterly comfortable with, which was her. He never hid from her, never pulled his hands away, never shied away from his scars in front of her. 

She really needed to pull herself together, yet a dull, but pleasant ache blossomed inside of her and she shifted and pressed her legs together, as she attempted to busy herself at the stove. But when Azriel was around, all rational thought left her and all she wanted to do was sit and stare at him like a fool. How could she have thought that Greyson was the epitome of manliness? She chuckled to herself, slightly shaking her head at the preposterous thought. Greyson. A boy. A boy full of hot air and exaggerated self-importance. What a fool she’s been. What a fool.

She gasped with surprise when strong, warm hands squeezed her hips. Azriel’s walk was so soft, he was almost entirely soundless. Even her new, acute Fae hearing couldn’t pick up his movement. He turned her around slowly and she found him on his knees in front of her, his face pressed into her stomach. 

“I am sorry,” he whispered, kissing her belly through the fabric of the shirt. His hair was damp, and he was wearing his usual black and gray, a short-sleeved shirt that revealed all of his musculature, as well as the black ink of his tattoos, and soft slacks that he usually favoured at home. 

His hands stroked her sides, her ribs and then landed back on her hips, stroking and squeezing, until he looked up at her and cupped her bottom, not in any sort of playful manner, but intimately, tightly. 

“Sorry for what?” she gulped, as she caressed his face with her thin, calloused fingers.

“For earlier today,” he explained, kissing her stomach again, his lips finding skin beneath the shirt and brushing over her navel. Those large, brazen hands kneaded her behind, unrestrained, cupping and massaging, and Elain’s breath hitched in her throat, as she felt her breasts grow heavy and aching. “It’s very difficult for me to stay calm when I feel like you are being placed in an uncomfortable situation and Rhys,”

She pressed her finger to his lips and said, “I can deal with Rhys,”

“He has no right to force you to reveal your powers or use them,” Azriel insisted, looking her over with a serious, displeased expression. “And you should’ve told me that he,”

“When we initially had that conversation,” she recalled, “I was angry with you anyway,”

“Which I hate,” he interrupted, his look stern.

“That’s in the past.” She shrugged. “It didn’t last long, I’ll have you know. I don't think that I am capable of staying angry with you for a long time,”

“That’s a relief at least,”

 “But he forbade me from seeing you,”

His handsome face darkened even further at her words, but she added, 

“And that made me very...let’s just say that I was much angrier with him than I was with you. I understood then what had happened. That you didn't stop seeing me on your own volition and that the order came from him. I couldn’t control my temper,”

He smiled softly at her and teased, “you have a temper?”

She chuckled and nodded, “I do have a temper. But when I lost it, I revealed my hand,”

He kissed her knuckles. 

“Not that I was hiding it, but the power, it rumbled. It resurfaced and it faced his power. And both--fought.”

“Who won?” he inquired, genuinely curious. His arms were banded around her, hands still on her behind, still stroking and squeezing, and she grew hotter and more heavy-lidded by the minute. 

“We didn’t challenge each other to a fight,” she snorted. “But my power felt strong. Like it could respond to him. It didn’t like the challenge, if I am being honest.”

“Hmmm,”

“What?” she took his face between her hands and made him look at her. “And why are you still kneeling?”

He grinned and kissed the inside of her palm, “I like it here. You feel nice in my arms.”

He pulled down the waistband of her tights, just until it reached her hip bone and kissed her there. Then he pulled the other side, and kissed her other hip bone. She swayed on her feet and he held her up, those strong hands holding her bottom, supporting her. 

“Feels good?” he teased, winking at her and she let out a soft moan, as he trailed kisses down her bare belly, burrowing under the shirt.

“No!” she moaned at last. “It feels terrible...because I want more,”

“I can give more,” he offered with a twinkle in his eyes.

This was nothing but light kisses. Not sensual, open mouthed kisses. No. Just soft little pecks and nips on her skin. Both of them were completely dressed. Yet Elain felt as if she was melting in his arms, as if his lips were branding her skin and his closeness slithered over her flesh in a silken caress and an invitation.

“Az,” she gasped.

“Yes, love?” he sounded innocent. As if he wasn't driving her veritably insane with his every touch, as if she wasn’t yearning to have him spread her right here, on this cold tiled floor and plunge into her, quickly and roughly.

He tsked and shook his head, flicking her nose playfully, “what are you thinking about?”

“How I am annoyed with you right now,” she gritted her teeth and he laughed in response. 

“I rather like keeping you a little on edge,” he confessed and then finally rose to his feet. He leaned over her, his hand gently squeezing her throat. His warm breath caressed her ear and he whispered, “I should love to hear some of your naughty thoughts,”

Elain flushed, shifting against him, breath uneven and heavy. 

“Will I?” he pressed, his thumb stroking her neck slowly, his face at her ear.

“Will you what?” she managed.

“Hear them?”

She swallowed. 

He did not release. His thumb swept against her tender skin, and he remained stooped over her, waiting. 

Gods...he expected an answer.

“I…” she babbled, not knowing what to tell him. Yet she wanted to tell him everything. Every, undoubtedly, juvenile, uninteresting fantasy that she had. 

He kissed her ear and waited, patiently. 

“Yes,” she breathed at last. “Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply and then kissed her ear again, the new, elongated tip, to which she was still unaccustomed. 

“Will you?” she asked suddenly. She didn’t expect to ask this, but here it was. He watched her intently, and she clarified, “Will you tell me? of your...needs?”

He gave her his usual amused look and then, “Yes”.

Simple. No arguments.

“You will?” she stuttered.

“Do you not want me to?” He sat at the table, and crossed his long legs in front of him, feet bare.

She flushed a deep, lovely pink--Cauldron damn him, but he loved making her blush--and then murmured, 

“I do. But,” she swallowed, “I am very nervous. Is that alright for me to admit?”

In one long, graceful swoop, he tugged her to him, and made her stand between his legs.

“You know you should never worry, right?” he asked, squeezing her hips in his hand. “Never. I will never,”

“I am not worried about that,” she waved him off. “Never you.”

“Then what?” his brow furrowed.

She licked her lip and her blush deepened, “I don’t know anything,”

He waited for her to speak her mind, without interrupting.

Centuries of conducting interrogations taught him patience, taught him when to push, and when to pull back. Eventually, everyone broke. And it didn’t always involve pain. In fact, using Truth-teller or any other methods of ‘enhanced interrogation’ was the last resort, typically utilized in most stubborn, or desperate cases. Azriel did not resort to torturing anyone unless he absolutely saw no other option. Not due to any sort of kindness or mercy--it was not his job to be merciful or emotional--but because allowing someone to simply speak and unburden yielded better, more truthful results. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

His thumbs only brushed against her hips, soothing and encouraging, his hands still holding her tightly.

“Do what, baby?” he asked at last.

“You,” she sighed. “This...I want this,” her voice fell even lower, “more than anything. I want us--you and me and everything that comes with it. But,” she shook her head in frustration.

“But you are inexperienced,” he offered.

“Utterly,” she confirmed. A deep blush flooded her cheeks, “It’s embarrassing, but I’ve never even seen a naked man,”

His brow lifted just a tad in surprise.

“But…” he stumbled, “aren’t you...are you a maid?”

“No,” she muttered, “I am not. But I didn’t see it. We...we weren’t naked.”

Azriel whooshed a breath and swore softly. “You mean to tell me that that fool had you to himself and didn’t even manage to get you naked?”

She smiled shyly.

“I know that I am awkward and probably too proper, and you are gloriously beautiful and desired by everyone. So, I would understand,” and her voice broke at this, “if you don’t want to take this further. I would...I don’t want to burden you with my inexperience. My complexes, which I am sure that I have,”

“Shhhh,” he bubbled his lips and shook his head in admonishment, “shhh. No. No. You,” he looked her up and down, slowly, measured, “are everything I’d ever wanted. Beautiful beyond words, yes, but so much more than that. If it was only your beauty that enticed me so, that would be one thing, but all of you makes me...crave. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything before. Elain, you are magnificent and exquisite in every possible way. Loving you is no burden,”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, as she stroked and stroked his face nervously,

“I worry...that I won’t be enough,”

She almost-

Almost.

Almost wrung her fingers, but he tracked the movement and she just dropped her hands onto his shoulders.

Azriel was absolutely fine with the idea of doing whatever Elain was partial to. He was perfectly aware that she was an innocent, not that he’d compare her to his own experiences, which would be laughable, but even in human terms, she was barely touched. It didn’t stop him from imagining how he’d love to teach her in the ways of love and pleasure, slowly, patiently, but thoroughly. Until she came into her own. And he understood her hesitation, the undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that he tasted in her scent. Which would simply not do. But the gods knew--Azriel was a patient male.

He pressed his cheek to her hand and gently stroked the sides of her torso.

“Will you trust me?” 

She nodded.

“You will always be more than enough. Just remember--take whatever you want from me, take away bread and water, take my peace, just never take yourself away from me. And,” he paused for a moment, as if hesitating, but she stroked the back of his neck and he whispered, “don’t...please, don’t call him your mate. Even if he is.”

She made a move, to step back, but he held her tightly, his hands almost spanning the width of her hips, and looked at her. 

“I can handle your anger,” he assured her. “And I can attempt to be less,”

“Territorial?”

“Hmmm.”

“Domineering?”

“Hmmm.”

“Over-protective?”

“Hmmm.”

He chewed his lip and then said, “No. None of those things will happen, I was just joking.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle, for he was completely serious, and deep down, she knew that he wasn't going to change. If this was the path she was taking, she needed to accept him the way that he was, and that she was always going to be his primary concern.

“I don’t know why it slipped out,” she admitted, and bowed to kiss his head, laying her cheek on top of his skull, in his soft, thick hair. “I am sorry,” she begged.

He was quiet.

She pulled him closer, wrapping her arms around his solid, thick shoulders, pushing his face into her chest. 

“I never think of him that way,” she continued. “I think I wanted to snap at Rhys. Stand my ground to him, but it came out so wrong,”

“But it’s true,” Azriel sighed.

“I don’t think so,” she argued. 

“It is. I’ve come to accept it. That you will never be fully mine,”

“That’s not true,” she interrupted him and then tipped his chin up, looking down at him with her luminous amber eyes. “I will  never be his. Yours, it's a different story. I will always be yours. In every way.”

She cupped his face and added, her voice urgent, “The thing is that, I’ve always wanted to be yours. I think from the time I ever laid my eyes on you. It seemed like an impossibility back then, but you were breathtaking… Nesta was smitten with Cassian. And I was smitten with you, and now I am free to declare it.”

She kissed his forehead and added, “And I am sorry. I know I hurt you, unintentionally, but I know it was the wrong thing to say. You are right, I don't ever want us to fight.”

He smiled, relieved. This morning’s tension sat in the pit of his stomach, even after he’d seen her again, during training. Even after they were done, he was still thinking about it, about her calling Lucien her ‘mate’, and about her ignoring him. When he and the too-excited Cassian left the orphanage and Cassian was in the throes of planning entire training sessions for the children, Azriel still couldn't concentrate, turning the morning’s events over and over in his head. Only when Cassian interrupted his brooding contemplation with a ridiculous question, did he manage to snap out of it. 

“So, is he yours?” asked Cassian. 

“Is what mine?” 

Cassian sized him up and then jerked his chin, “The boy. Temal. Is he yours?”

Azriel couldn't help, but roll his eyes. “Are you insane? What are you even talking about?” Cassian shrugged. 

“You can’t deny that the resemblance is uncanny.” 

“He is an Illyrian,” Azriel snapped. “I am an Illyrian. He had parents.”

“Alright. If you say so. Elain sure is doting on him like he is yours.”

“She just likes him,”

“She doesn’t like anyone else like that,” observed Cassian. And then, added, “It’s alright. I get it. But it would be funny if he was yours.”

“I don’t fuck Illyrian females,” reminded him Azriel. “We, don’t fuck Illyrian females.”

“True,” Cassian  nodded and smiled. “But I’ll be damned! Does she love you or what….She even got a youngling who looks like you.”

“Fuck off.”

Azriel got up and kissed her head, while he began setting the table, and she busied herself with her famed chicken. It was the first time ever he was having dinner with someone here, in his house, and for some reason, it made him both uneasy and so excited, it felt like when he was a youngin, with his first kiss. 

The chicken, Elain’s presence in the kitchen, his shadows resting, except for the ever-present Lex--this was home. Never before, ever, did he feel at home. Even here, in this house of his, which he loved, he always felt a visitor. Now, there was something grounding him, making him stop and savour the moment, live in the now, enjoy every scent, and touch and sound. Even the clinking of dishes. 

“Can you please sit down,” she ordered him. 

“But I want to help,”

“You are here to relax and...adore me,” she shrugged and he grinned. 

“I do adore you,” Azriel sat down compliantly and propped his chin, watching her intently, his one siphon slumbering on his wrist. His lovely, darling girl. He truly was a fool for her, but he didn’t care. He smiled to himself, thinking what an obedient, good hound he was now. 

She finally arranged the dishes on platters and delivered them to the table. 

“Oh,” he inhaled the delicious blend of spices, of lemon and herbs and Elain watched his eyes close with delight. A whiff of something familiar and dear washed over him. Home. Childhood. But not his childhood and not his home. This--this is how he imagined home, with these smells and with this female. 

“So,” she sat down and began to serve him, “I know you don’t like Illyria,”

“But this is Illyrian food,” he said quickly, recognising the dishes. 

“Butuzuli,” she said, her accent pretty and precise when she pronounced the Illyrian word. A glorious concoction of crispy, golden rice studded with pistachios, Illyrian spices and dried apricots. 

“How did you know?” he wondered, amazed. The look of the dish was exactly the same as if it came from the cook in his father’s keep. 

“Shashlama,” she gave him a heaping pile of roasted eggplant that was smothered in parsley sauce. Then, he began carving the gorgeous, brown-skinned chicken and the smell of lemon and rosemary was intoxicating. 

“I’ve been learning,” she said, pleased by his reaction to the food. 

“From who? How?”

He tucked into the rice and the vegetables and barely stifled a moan. This was divine.

“Alright, I am going for the chicken!” he warned and Elain giggled, watching him.

The meat was perfumed with garlic, the woodsy scent of rosemary, the fruity, tangy addition of lemon and it truly was the best chicken Azriel’s ever tasted. He was normally a polite, elegant eater, with good manners, who was able to pace himself, but tonight, he wanted to gobble everything down like Cassian.

“Baby, this is…” he could barely string coherent words together. “May I curse?”

She burst out laughing, almost choking on the wine that he’d poured, but nodded.

“This is fucking delicious!” he groaned. 

“Good chicken?” she was laughing merrily.

“Magnificent chicken!” he looked at her and then winked, “I might very well have to marry you after all,”

“Told you!”

As they settled comfortably over their plates, the Symphonia still playing something softly in the background, Azriel asked,

“So you’ve been learning to cook?”

“I know how to cook,” she tore a piece of flatbread, and popped it in her mouth, 

“Well, I know,”

“but I’ve been reading up and learning about Illyrian cuisine. The cook in the orphanage is Illyrian, so she’s been offering me recipes and showing techniques,”

“But this is not just Illyrian,” he noted, “this is,”

“Bagratian?” 

“Yes.”

She smiled at him.

“Well, here is what I figured--I have a brother, and a brother-in-law, who are Illyrian, and my child and the man who is my whole world are both Illyrians from Bagratia, and my children will be Illyrians with Bagratian blood, so how could I not learn of their culture? Their food? The language? Histories?”

He put his utensils down and stared at her, “You know that I am from Bagarat?”

She shrugged, “I guess I do. Does that surprise you?”

“You surprise me every day,” he bit his lip, awed. “But...Did Cassian tell you?”

She placed more rice on his plate, since it was something that disappeared almost immediately, and said, “No. But Temal looks like you,”

So she knew. And noticed.

“I read up on the Iron Eagle camp,” she continued her explanation, “where he is from, and then learned that it was in the province of Bagratia, and then Rhys confirmed that you are indeed from there. Are you impressed with my investigative initiatives?”

Very few people knew of Azriel’s background, of where he came from, which House, what province, and it struck a different note in him that Elain was interested, and that she took the time and effort to learn about his roots. Illyrian history and traditions, even its geography were not easy to come by. Illyria was a world of its own, with little written lore or documents, therefore, it couldn't have been just a simple book that she picked up to read up on Illyria. She must have gone to the Library for additional research. 

“I truly am,” he nodded, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. 

“The cook’s husband is from Bagratia, so she learned about the foods once she married him. She explained that Bagratia is different from the rest of Illyria--more open, with more trade, hence the varied and spiced cuisine, and different customs as well.”

“Culturally, it’s much more diverse than the rest of Illyria,” he suppressed something dark inside of him at the memories, willing himself to separate his own history from the actual place. 

Elain paused for a long time, watching his darkening expression, the recollection of whatever was plaguing him. 

“Will you tell me?” she finally braved the question.

He didn’t require an explanation of what she was asking.

“Tell me the good things,” she offered.

He scowled and shrugged, “very few good things to tell, if I am being honest.”

She waited, allowing him to make the final decision.

“Bagratia,” he said at last, his voice even lower and more gravelly than usual, “is the one province in Illyria that could be considered ‘wealthy’. There is even a capital city--Bagarat. Most of the Illyrian Lords come from there and the breeding of Illyrians for Killing Power originated there,”

“Why?”

“Well, a smart and cunning Illyrian lord, millennia ago, spun a crafty tale,”

He chuckled and helped himself to more eggplant. 

“Honestly, this is so good,” he muttered, as if the food was a welcome distraction from the tale he was telling. 

Elain smiled and then, to his utter delight, she stretched her legs out and placed them on his lap, as per his previous request. She said nothing, as she relaxed against the back of the Illyrian chair, which was probably less than comfortable for her, and played with her food.

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” she said sincerely. 

He gently stroked her calves and perhaps it gave him some internal stability, but he continued,

“That lord, he spun a wild, but believable tale of Enalius being from Bagratia. You know who Enalius was?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve read about him...Cassian gave me a book,”

“Cassian gave you a book?”

“It surprises you?” she chuckled.

“A little. What book?”

“The Histories of Illyria. He said that if I learn Illyrian, he’ll give me the original, written in Illyrian.”

“That’s Cassian,” Azriel sighed. “Always trying to drum up support for his favourite cause.”

Now fully satiated, Azriel allowed his wings to droop around him, as he stretched his legs out and absently played with Elain’s bare feet. 

“So naturally, an entire profitable industry was created out of the lore of Enalius, and suddenly there were all these markers, conveniently found around Bagratia.” He snorted, waving his hand and announcing, “This is the cave where Enalius spent the night before the battle! This is the stone upon which Enalius sharpened his sword! This embankment was where Enalius and his followers feasted on roasted goats!”

Elain laughed at his performative demonstration. 

“But, eventually, it led to the honing of power that Illyrians became famous for. Unsurprisingly, Bagratian lords tried to usurp most of it, and breed it into their lines. That’s how the siphons came about--the breeding pool was too limited, too narrow and the power couldn't be controlled anymore. The siphons managed to direct the power output through magic, though it took a while to perfect the system and the usage. When an Illyrian male comes of age, fully comes into his power, there is a period of trial and error with the siphons--too few, and you can destroy everything around you, break the siphons, unleash the power incorrectly and sloppily. Too many siphons, and they put a damper on your strength and might, essentially tying your hands.”

“And you have seven…” it wasn’t a question, but Elain stared at his brown, scarred arm with its leather band around the wrist and the dully glimmering cobalt stone. 

“Yeah,” he glanced at the siphon. “Seven.”

He smiled, recalling, “I kept breaking them, because they couldn’t contain the power. I received two right away, because the Commanders saw that one would never be enough, but I broke them. They added another, and another, and I broke all four. Finally, landed on five. It lasted for a bit, but the five broke during a battle in the first War, which really wasn't ideal,” he said mildly. Elain couldn’t even imagine. No siphons meant no shields, no protection, no ability to heal, and no actual power, beyond the physical prowess. 

“So you fought?”

“Hand to hand combat…” he nodded, “for over four hours. Took me ten days to recover the use of my arms afterwards.”

He stretched his arms in front of him, flexing his fingers. Elain was probably the only person in the world, except for Cassian, in front of whom Azriel felt secure enough to do that.

“So, you were born in Bagratia,” Elain began, but he interrupted, shaking his head, 

“Not only born. I am half Bagratian,”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“You are an Illyrian,”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “For all intents and purposes, I am. I winged, dark-skinned Illyrian. But to Illyrians themselves, I am not only a bastard-born, but also a half-breed. Cassian, for example, is fully Illyrian. Devlon, whom you've met, too. Emerie. Me--I am a little different.”

“So what does it mean?”

Azriel drew his scarred thumb over the rim of his wine glass and then said, his gaze flitting absently about the open space of the apartment,

“My mother, she is unusually beautiful,”

Elain looked at him, as if a mystery was solved—the mystery of his own unbelievable handsomeness. Because Azriel was just that beautiful. Rhysand might have preened and claimed the title of the ‘Most Handsome High Lord’, but Azriel was indisputably the more classically, elegantly handsome one.

“In Bagratia, besides its claim to Enalius and a high concentration of power and Illyrian wealth, there are a number of other people that have settled there over the centuries. Some just comprise small settlements, but others have entire subcultures, because their numbers are quite large. My mother—she came from such a people—they call themselves Hiberions—who claim to have escaped a great cataclysm, back millennia ago. No one really knows where they came from, as they had no written record, but whatever did happen, it caused this nation to disperse around what is now the Night Court. Some settled in and around the coast, but many ended up in Illyria. 

There are speculations that Hiberions were invited by an ancient High Lord to the Night Court, and offered sanctuary. Hiberions themselves claim a different story, and say that they were the original founders of the Night Court, and that they allowed others to settle on the land, but over time, they were weakened due to internal struggles and were pushed out of the seat of power. Kier, Mor’s father, claims that he is a descendant of the Hiberions, and that Hewn City was their original capital,”

Elain’s eyes flew wide open, but Azriel shrugged with his usual nonchalance.

“What?” she murmured. “Is it true?”

He scratched his chin and said, “Hard to say. I haven’t investigated it very closely. But rumour has it that the ability to wield shadows and that shadowsingers as a phenomenon originated from the Hiberions. Because they might have been the inhabitants of the Dusk Court,”

“What is Dusk Court?”

“A Court that perished, they say. A great Court, but….it doesn’t exist anymore. Don’t you find it strange that there is a Night, Day and Dawn, but no Dusk?”

“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted truthfully. “But I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

He drew his palm over her foot, and she squirmed a little, giggling.

“So, your mother?” she reminded him, wanting to hear the rest of the story.

“My mother is a Hiberion. Well, mixed—Illyrian and Hiberion,” he tugged on his lip for a moment and then said, “if you think that Illyrians are horrible and treat their own like shit, then you should only see how they treat those who aren’t pureblooded Illyrians. Less than nothing. Therefore, Hiberions who live in Illyria usually keep the most menial jobs, and live in great poverty, with almost no rights at all.”

Elain bit her lips, but did not say anything, wanting him to continue.

“The one thing that Hiberions have is that they can breed with Illyrians, and that they are, generally speaking, very good looking. Hence the women are prized and valued, and typically can obtain employment in a Lord’s keep. Unfortunately, their beauty is usually their downfall as well—they attract unwanted attention.”

Elain swallowed, understanding perfectly well what he was implying.

“Is that what happened to your mother?”

He nodded.

“My father was a Bagratian Lord, wealthy, with a training camp located on his lands. That always brought him steady income. He was married to a female—an arranged marriage—and they had two sons.

“My mother was engaged to be married to a hunter, also a Bagratian, who traded in pelts. She worked in the training camp, and that’s where she’d met Rhys’s mother. Because my mother was a half-breed, she had wings, but they were lame, and did not develop as quickly as normal wings do. Therefore, flying was always very difficult for her, and that’s how she avoided being clipped. They didn’t bother with her, seeing that she couldn’t fly away anyway. 

The hunter, he was wounded the winter before they were set to get married, and couldn’t support himself or her, while also needing a healer, at least for a period of time. So they decided that she would seek employment at the Keep…my father’s Keep, just for that winter, until the hunter recovered. She was hired as a maid, and all was well for a while, but that was until my father saw her and became smitten at once.”

Azriel cleared his throat and considered for a moment, before continuing,

“I don’t know if ‘smitten’ is the right word. Infatuated? Obsessed? Enthralled? I don’t know…But whatever it was, he pursued her relentlessly, spurned even further by the fact that she had no interest in him and was in love with the hunter. 

“But my father was a Lord and she was a poor half-breed in his employ, with nothing to her name and no protection. The hunter tried to come and take her away, but my father hid her and wouldn’t release her.”

“He forced her?” Elain sounded broken, her face paling. 

He nodded.

“Surely. Perhaps he wasn’t violent, but it was not her intention or desire to be with him. The wife might not have cared, for it was common enough occurrence for a lord to keep women available for sexual pleasure, but then my mother became pregnant.”

“With you?”

“No.”

Elain sensed that he was about to tell her something horrible, and she didn’t want to hear it, yet she knew that she had to. That this was something that he probably didn’t share with anyone. He was trusting her with his family lore, broken and terrible as it was, filled with pain and suffering, but she felt a sense of kinship, as it was an honour to hear his story. 

“The wife beat that babe out of my mother.”

Elain sucked in her breath as her hand instinctively went to her stomach. He tracked the movement, but didn’t comment.

“Hiberions aren’t like the Fae,” he explained. “They are Fae, but like Illyrians, they are a separate race. So certain common traits of the Fae don’t apply to them—females get pregnant easily, or at least at the same rate as humans.

“So, within months, my mother was pregnant again—this time with me. The wife threatened my mother again, but the Lord overheard and broke the wife’s arm in a fit of rage. So, she, more or less, left my mother alone after that.”

He stopped speaking and looked out the floor-length window in front of which they were sitting.

“And then?” Elain asked softly.

“And then it became a different story…mine.”

Which meant that he didn’t feel like discussing himself or his childhood. She understood and did not push.

But she did ask,

“What happened to the hunter?”

“I found him,” Azriel said, still looking out the window, his jowls working hard.

“And?”

“And he was still alone, waiting for my mother. He knew that somehow, he’d get her back, and one day, she’d return to him and they’d be together. It was after the War and I had my seven siphons by then. Rhys, who was very gravely injured, and almost lost his wings in the war, had recovered, and so we went together, back to my father’s Keep. Cassian and Rhys and myself, and the hunter.”

“Your mother was alive?”

“She was. We let the hunter take her away…”

Elain didn’t need details about what had happened afterwards. 

Nesta had mentioned what the three brothers did to Cassian’s village and the males who had destroyed his mother’s life. How they laid waste to the entire settlement, barely sparing the females and children. She imagined that something very similar took place at Azriel’s father’s Keep. 

So, she bypassed the question and the details.

“And your mother?” she asked instead.

“She and her husband, the hunter, live together to this day.”

Elain’s face sparkled with genuine happiness, and somehow, that made all the difference. 

Azriel wasn’t sure if he should share his background, and even as they started to discuss Bagratia, he didn’t think that he’d veer off so deeply and completely into his family history. Now, he felt like some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was lightness, even despite the topic of the conversation and all the memories that it brought up. Perhaps, it was Elain’s gentle, contemplative acceptance, or the sorrow written on her soft, flower-like face, or this happiness that she was displaying right now that made his tale tolerable and worthwhile. She reached and grabbed his hand and asked, “Your mother lives?”

“She does. And it pleases me that she is happy. She deserves it.”

Elain threaded her fingers with his and then, quietly, inquired, “Will I be able to meet her? Not now, of course, but,”

“I think she’d love to meet you as well. I think she’d love to meet you anytime. You have similar qualities, even similar interests,”

“Like what?”

“She is an accomplished baker—actually, that’s what she does. She has a pastry shop in the town where they live. It’s very popular,”

“Is that where you got your sweet tooth?” she joked.

“Probably. Even if I’d never eat anything sweet until I was an adult.”

“Why?”

“My childhood did not allow for sweets,” he answered blandly, not wanting to return to that place in his head.

Instead, Elain asked, “what else?”

“She likes flowers, like you. They have a lovely garden.”

He smirked then, and made a wide gesture with his hand,

“And speaking of flowers...I see we have all these weeds now in the house,”

“Weeds?” she shrieked indignantly, while he nodded and laughed. 

“Weeds?”

“Yeah, weeds...I’ve never had flowers in this house,”

“That’s weird but also untrue,” she cut him off.

“Is it?” he was laughing.

“I saw two jasmine plants--in the bedroom and in your study. Are they weeds that you allow?”

He got up so swiftly, she barely registered it with her own eyes. And then he was on his knees in front of her, cupping her face between his rough palms. She slid towards him, wrapping her legs loosely around his torso, just under the wings. She smiled at him, and nudged her face to kiss the inside of his palm.

“What?”

He looked at her long and hard, as if trying to drink in her loveliness, memorise every line of her face.

“I must have jasmine,” he said at last, leaning in and kissing her cheek. Then the other cheek. Then her temple. And then tenderly, slowly, each eye. 

“Az,” she breathed, wrapping her hands over his thick, strong wrists. His thumbs brushed along her face, and he said, “you are my jasmine, my beautiful flower. The scent is you. The day I returned from the human lands, from your estate, after meeting you for the first time, I had to go to Hewn City and perform some unpleasant tasks.”

Elain guessed, but did not question what those tasks might have been.

“And then I went and bought a jasmine plant, because all I wanted to do was think about you.”

Her breath halted and she stared at him.

He sighed apologetically, “I didn’t have anything of you, so I figured that maybe I could have your scent,”

“I smell of jasmine?”

“You don’t know?” he seemed surprised.

She shook her head.

“Jasmine and honey. You are a cross between a flower and a pastry,” he smiled and kissed her face again. “My favourite scent. So whenever I slept here, I’d always wake up to your scent and it made for a good day…”

He reached behind her and then scooped her in his arms.

“I am proud of myself, because I managed to keep these plants alive this whole time!”

She chuckled and wrapped her arms around his neck, while he rose to his feet.

“What about dessert? And the dishes?” she protested unconvincingly.

He nuzzled at her neck and growled, “You are my dessert.”

She shivered with pleasure, and he added, “and dishes...that’s what I have the shadows for. They’ll take care of it. Lex,” he barked. “Make yourself useful and clear the table.”

“I don’t know how,” Lex immediately protested. 

“Then learn,” Azriel suggested, as Elain laughed into his neck.

“I don’t want to. Don’t you have others to do the dishes?” Lex argued.

“How about doing what I tell you?” Azriel proposed.

Lex floated to the table, apparently surveyed it and then declared,

“I am tired.”

“That’s the shadow you gave me?” Elain whispered into his ear. “A shadow that is lazy and that gets tired?”

“I can hear you, Elain,” Lex pointed out.

“If you are so tired, go to sleep,” she told it.

“I don’t want to. I am not so tired.”

“Lex is only so tired when it comes to clearing the dishes,” Azriel huffed and released a cloud of his own, less problematic and temperamental, shadows. “You can do whatever you want, but don’t bother us until the morning.”

Elain stroked and scratched the back of his neck, laying her head on his shoulder, as he carried her slowly to the bedroom, his face buried in her hair.

“Did you like dinner?” she asked, sighing softly and happily.

“It was perfect. Perfect. But, one request, if I may?”

She looked up and smiled, “you may?”

“Raisins in the rice...lots of raisins,” he requested.

“A little side of rice with a mountain of raisins?” she laughed and nodded. “Raisins it is.”

He kissed her cheek and she pouted, “But I really wanted you to have my dessert!”

“Breakfast? Dessert pastry for breakfast?” he offered, giving her a conciliatory kiss.

“I suppose.”

They finally made it to the bedroom, and Azriel closed the door behind them with his foot.

There was a sleek, comfortable leather chair in the bedroom that stood by the wall of windows, and Azriel headed straight for it, sprawling easily, his wings splaying against the wide back. He did not release her, but sat her on top of him, so she straddled his hips. His large, warm hands immediately migrated to her lush bottom, perhaps his favourite feature of hers, at least so far. He was hoping that he could explore many, many more parts of her, slowly and thoroughly, and soon.

She looked at him, her face soft and rosy, that delicious blush of her spreading slowly over her cheeks. Gods, he thought that he’d never get enough of that blush, would never want to stop making her blush like that, because of how his proximity made her feel.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and he tugged on the silk ribbon that tied her long, thick braid. 

“You haven’t called me ‘baby’ today,” she reminded him, her voice warm and husky, and the sound of it made him shift beneath her. 

“No?” 

She shook her head, his tongue slowly brushing her lower lip, before she clamped it in her teeth, watching him from under her lashes. Slowly he released the thick golden strands of her hair from the plait and it fell like a silky curtain around her shoulders and her face.

His finger lightly pulled at the collar of his shirt that she was wearing and he leaned and kissed her collarbone.

“Well, that’s my fault then,” he breathed against her neck, and kissed the other collarbone, before he unbuttoned the top button. “Will my baby forgive me?” he then kissed between the collarbones and proceeded to unbutton another button.

“I don’t know,” she gasped, “what will you do?”

“As penance?” he smiled, watching her pulse quicken, and the vein under her pale skin fill with blood.

“Let’s hear it,” she welcomed coyly.

He smiled, amused and secretly entertained. It was adorable when she took a little bit of charge, and decided to be in control. He liked it. She was quiet and unobtrusive, but she knew when to stand up and be heard and when to step back. She wasn’t as shy and retiring as everyone assumed she was, but that was probably because very few actually paid attention and learned about who she was. She did. He paid attention to everything.

“I undress you?” he proposed simply.

She squirmed just a bit, but then gave a single nod.

He found the buttons for the back slats of the shirt and then asked casually, as he worked them with his fingers,

“Tell me what you want, my darling girl.”

His voice was soft, but there was something imperative in his tone, which left little room for debate. 

“I-I...what do you mean?” she stammered.

He was cool and steady, as he pulled the shirt off her shoulders and repeated, “Just tell me what you want?”

“You?”

He smiled,

“Are you unsure?”

“No! I am very sure. I just don't know what you are asking,”

“I think that you do,” he said evenly. 

“What do you want?” she then asked in turn.

He sighed and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. She gasped, but he pulled away before she could even react.

“You, emani,” he said simply. “I want you, just as well. But I also think that I want more…I think that I want everything. Everything you can give me, anything you are willing to share with me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and I think that I want to be greedy this time around. For the first time in my life, I want a woman, a female,”

“A woman,” she murmured.

“A woman,” he agreed easily, “to give me all of her.” He cupped her cheek, his eyes bright and almost entirely green in the dim light of the bedroom. “Body--yes,” he looked down at her, and almost groaned, “gods yes, I want this body. But so much more. I don't want to sound like a feral Fae male,”

At that, Elain smiled softly, wordlessly giving him permission to be just that.

His hands grabbed her hips, grounding her on his thighs and he said, “But I don’t care. I want you to be mine. I want to know every day, every moment that you are mine and that you feel something for me. Because I want to be yours. I don’t give a fuck about your bond, the lack of our own,”

“We don’t need a bond,”

“We don’t,” he nodded, “because you are mine and I'm yours.”

“And that’s more than enough for me. Also, you are already quite feral, so I don’t think I need any more ferocity.”

At that, Azriel laughed openly and she giggled, liking when her jokes made him laugh. Then, more seriously, he added, “I think that after 500 years, I am ready for something new. This nomadic existence is nice, but honestly, I think that I am tired of wanting...of hoping. I have you--if you’d have me--and I am ready to,”

“Oh, no, am I making my shadowsinger settle?” she mused.

“I think the shadowsinger doesn’t mind settling at all. When I built this apartment,” and he jerked his chin, “it was the first thing that was my own. I’d always shack up in the House of Wind, or at Rhys’s, and it was fine. I felt busy, and I didn’t feel like….” he stumbled. “Like I deserved good things. Any things, really. But then Rhys was Under the Mountain, and we protected the city, kept everything running, and I started thinking that there had to be a reason for all of this sadness and when I looked at the people who lived, who had families and some semblance of happiness, who found joy in the very day, I thought that maybe I should try to strive for the same. It took me another half a century to meet you,” he chuckled tensely, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “But here we are. And honestly,” he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, “coming home tonight, and finding you here,”

For the first time, perhaps ever, Elain watched him being emotional about something. Or at least as emotional as he ever got. 

“It was the best feeling,” he concluded at last. This was also probably the most Azriel’s said in his entire life--tonight, when he told her of his mother, when he was making this confession to her right now, was the most verbose that Azriel’s ever allowed himself to be. 

“I like being here. With you,” she said simply and sweetly. And then she leaned in and kissed his eyes softly. “Cooking for us. Being in this house…”

Azriel knew that Elain’s nature was domestic, nurturing, and she was happiest when she had control over her life, over her domicile, over her surroundings. He wasn't the only one who needed control in his life--in their desire for planning and order, they matched very well. The upheavals of the past decade certainly pushed her to crave a sense of stability and ownership, and he accepted that. Liked it, since that’s what he was lacking in his own past.

For her, he’d wrestle and wrangle the peace and tranquility that they both craved. 

“Now...will you undress me already?” she ordered impatiently and he grinned. 

“It’s your turn,” he reminded her, “I’ve said more words in the last fifteen minutes than I’ve in the past century.”

As he slipped his shirt down her torso, baring her pale skin, so in contrast with the dark bronze of his own, she said quietly, barely looking at him, 

“I like it when you tell me what to do.”

He did not press, waiting for her to speak. His heart lurched with secret satisfaction at her words, but he tried to keep his excitement muted.

“Not in everything,” she continued, her head inclined towards her chest, watching her breasts, covered with a lacy wrap.

The Fae, as she quickly learned, did not wear corsets. And thank the Mother for that. Their clothes were practical. No petticoats, no unnecessary shifts, no hooped skirts, no scarfs or flounces to cover the bodice. No issues with females wearing trousers or pants either. The Night Court fashions were on a more scandalous side, so much so that Elain and Nesta often bucked at some of the dresses that were presented to them. Feyre and Mor favoured scraps of translucent fabric and some strategically placed belts and straps and that’s about all. Elain still wore dresses, but none required half an hour of cinching and tying to get into them. Undergarments were simple as well, elegant and well-made, for the Fae took pride and care in their immortal bodies and their underthings. She grew to love the uncomplicated breast wraps, that supported everything quite well, but allowed for easy movement and only needed a satin tie or a few pearl buttons to stay put. 

“But I don’t want to even pretend like I know anything,” she lay her hands on her lap, to prevent herself from squeezing her fingers. “And I…” she licked her luscious lip, “I think that you would enjoy telling me what to do.”

Her gaze fell on his mouth, the sensuous line of it.

“I would.”

His throat bobbed just a bit, excitement coursing through his veins. 

“So you’ll have to tell me,” she decided. “And I will listen.”

“You’ve been listening to me already,” Azriel noted, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, as he stroked the nape lightly. “I’ve noticed you are not wringing your fingers anymore.”

“I don’t,” she nodded. “Thank you for that. I didn’t think much of it when you told me, but now I understand. Surprisingly, it centers me. My mind doesn’t race when I do it.”

“A concentration technique,” he smiled. 

“But also a test, I think. To see if I would listen?” she cocked her head at him.

He didn’t want to lie, so he nodded.

Softly, she wondered, “Is that what you like?”

“Control? Yes.”

“Pain?” she blinked nervously.

“No. Not pain. I certainly prefer pleasure to pain, but it doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged in both. With you,” he ran his thumb over her mouth, “I think pleasure is the way to go.”

She kissed the pad of this thumb, its rough skin and decided, “I trust you. I think that I would like to listen to you and do what you tell me.”

“Thank you, my sweet,” he unbuttoned the rest of the buttons with his available hand and tossed the shirt on the floor. Without breaking eye contact, he said, “open up” and Elain, a little unsure, parted her lips. “Lick.”

She made to reach for his wrist, but he only moved his head and guided her, “Mouth only.”

She acquiesced, and slowly pulled the thumb inside her mouth, swirling her tongue over it, watching him watch her with a content, pleased expression on his granite-hewn, perfect face. 

“Lick,” he said again, without any further prompting. She licked. She dragged her tongue up and down his thumb, secretly marveling at the fact that his hand was the first thing that he allowed her to touch so intimately. Despite the intricate network of thick, mottled scars that covered his hands, snaked up all the way to his forearm on his left arm and reached his bicep on his right, his hands were beautiful, like the rest of him. The fingers were long and strong, with well-cared for nails, and the palm itself wide and large and powerful, his fist frighteningly enormous. 

Elain licked, as thoroughly as she could, finding that it made her pant a little, squirm atop of him, and she didn’t understand why. She hoped that he was enjoying it, because she certainly was. 

“My good girl,” he stroked her hair, dragging his other hand over her head, and at the name, she felt her nipples strain against the silk and lace of her wrap, “suck now…”

Barely giving her time to pause, he fed two fingers in her mouth, index and middle, and she gulped on air, sucking them inside. “Nice and slow,” he coached softly, rubbing them against her soft, wet tongue, “show me, how much you like it.”

She liked it. Even if the fingers took up most of her mouth, there was something sensual and primal, having his hand in her mouth. It was daringly intimate, and while she dreamed of kisses and caresses, somehow, with this one gesture, he brought her into a different realm. It was a place where she yearned to step into, and explore the possibilities that she hadn’t even imagined yet. 

She sucked, slowly, as instructed, acquainting herself with the feel and the taste, watching him prod her mouth rhythmically, in and out, while she met the shallow thrusts with her tongue and lips.

“Good,” he approved, and she loved the praise on his lips, and how he watched her, her face, the workings of her tongue, and the even, languorous bobbing of her breasts within the confines of the wrap. She propped herself on his shoulders, as his arm wrapped around her waist and he squeezed her behind. He increased the speed ever so slightly, reaching almost all the way to her throat, and she dripped on her chin, but as she attempted to wipe the saliva, he shook his head and she stopped. 

“Messy is good,” he whispered into her ear, leaning closer, so that her breasts slid and bounced against his chest, and the brush of her nipples over the silk became almost painful. A wave of heat rolled over her entire body, and for the first time in her life, she felt an ache. An ache deep inside of her, a ravenous hunger, which remained unsatisfied.

“Keep sucking,” he muttered into her cheek, his lips pressed to it tightly, as he lightly bit the hollowed spot, the teeth scraping over her skin. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, probably more strongly than she anticipated, perhaps even hurting him, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to stop, but gods, the ache inside of her was horrible.

Azriel felt the powerful drip of her arousal against his thigh, as she writhed against him, warm and wet and panting in his arms. He loved watching her become this excited, offering him her mouth, giving him pleasure, her swift little tongue working tirelessly and hurriedly over his fingers. His sweet, beautiful girl. It wasn’t particularly difficult to keep himself in check right now, though he definitely considered taking this a bit further...perhaps undressing her more. But then he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to remain so composed if she was naked. Perhaps tomorrow. 

He allowed her to suck for a bit longer, until, without warning, pulled his fingers out of her mouth.

She was taken aback at the loss, and stared at him, looking alarmed.

“Baby, was that good?” he smiled at her, and seeing that he wasn’t upset, she nodded eagerly.

“I can suck more, if you’d like,” she offered.

He wiped her wet chin and then brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. The gesture caused her to bloom with a delectable blush that he loved so much. 

“Did you...did you like it?” she almost whispered, and he teased her,

“Why are you whispering?”

She chuckled, wiping her chin.

“But yes, I absolutely loved it,” he said, relaxing back in the chair. “You did so well.”

She smoothed her hair and then straightened out, a small smile on her full lips, and watched him easily, but assuredly slide his palm between her legs.

She was warm and damp, and he brushed a knuckle along the seam of her sex, soliciting a little yelp of surprise and enjoyment from her. 

“I am wet,” she blurted, and then stopped, eyes wide.

“You are,” he said simply, approval lacing his voice. “Have you not been wet before?”

He cupped her, holding his palm against her leaking core, but did not press further. He wanted her to open up to him, and somewhat surprisingly, she did,

“I don’t think I have. Not like this.”

It pleased him to hear that he’d made her this wet, but a question gnawed on him nevertheless,

“But when you gave him your maidenhead, you must have,”

“Not like this,” she said shyly, shaking her head. 

“It hurt then?”

She nodded.

Annoyance rippled over his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek. Usually, he was not this expressive of his feelings, whatever they were, but with her, it was different. He cupped her cheek and then pulled her to him, so she sprawled on his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

“It’s a shame that he didn’t make the experience better…”

“They say it always hurts,”

“It doesn’t have to,” he argued. “It has to be pleasurable.”

“I guess I was expecting it,” she shrugged. “It was...alright.”

“Alright should never be the experience, especially not the first one,” he sniped, but didn’t push.

She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the thick, hard mass of his pectorals beneath the thin knit fabric of his shirt. Azriel stroked her bare back, walking his fingers along the spine.

Suddenly, she murmured, “I want to shout.” 

He waited, wondering when she meant. 

She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, but remained tucked into his chest.

“I want to shout,” she repeated at last. “From pleasure. I’ve heard them...Nesta and Feyre. They scream.”

“And you haven't?” even though he posed it as a question, it was more of a statement. It did not particularly surprise him that she hadn’t had a climax, but internally, he felt a twinge of sadness. Yet, there was also a hopeful feeling of anticipation fluttering in his chest--for he’d be the one to provide her with her pleasure. He’d be the one who’d make her ‘shout’. 

A plan was already forming in his head. Even when it came to sexual matters, Azriel preferred to plan ahead, have a path to follow, but then again, most of his encounters were pre-arranged in some way, so it was easier to accomplish. With Elain though--his Elain was special. She was his heart’s desire, and for her he felt many things, including passion. Passion was not something he dabbled in frequently, since he was not one to be quickly overcome by it, and never did he lose himself or his senses in a female. Sure, there was an occasional tumble against the wall with a panting, willing, nameless female, but it was an itch to be scratched, and nothing more. 

“No,” she ground briefly against his hand, pushing into him. “But I want to. I think it would be nice to let go...to feel that free. So unburdened.”

She fell quiet and then, after a lengthy silence added, “With you. I want it to be with you only.”

“I should hope so,” he smiled. “Now, I would like to take you to bed and sleep in your arms. The entire night. Because I am fucking tired!”

Elain laughed and sat up, before jumping off him and tugging him off the chair.

“I want you to sleep in my arms as well!”

Elain loved getting ready for bed alongside him. 

Needless to say that she’d never done that before. Even back in their hovel, she tried to carve a few minutes to herself, in privacy, even with her sisters banging on the privy door. But she never felt uncomfortable with Azriel, and even now as she washed her face, combed through her tangled hair, brushed her teeth, she watched him do the same next to her, and it felt inexplicably normal. 

“I’ll finish undressing you,” he warned, before she headed into the closet. She paused, and sensing her hesitation, he added lightly, “You know, I can undress a female without baring her.”

“Is that a shadowsinging ability?” she joked, picking out a nightgown from the stack that one of the twins had delivered.

“No,” he called out from the bathing room. “It’s a male’s ability.”

When she emerged, he was standing by the bed, reading some document which he somehow fished out of somewhere. He was naked, save for his black undershorts, which contoured everything with egregious explicitness. Elain glanced down his torso. Those well-defined hip muscles, as well as the ridged abdomen were nothing but a mouthwatering temptation. But then she snagged another look,

And he caught it.

A smirk appeared on his lips and he said,

“You can look, you know.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she declared primly, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

“You are right, not at all,” he jerked his head to have her come to him. He sat down on the bed and she approached, stopping in front of him.

“This will be my job, from now on,” his voice was heavy with promise, “to undress you. Every night.”

“Alright,” she agreed. “What if I want to undress you?”

“Then you should.”

He easily rolled her tights down her thighs and legs, until she stepped out of them and stood in front of him, almost nude, in only her silk underwear. 

Elain was more supple, more voluptuous than her sisters. Nesta was rail thin, with surprisingly large breasts, a ramrod straight back and long, skinny legs. Feyre was both feminine and boyish at once, pretty, lithe, but unremarkable, at least to Azriel. 

Elain, his Elain, was a delicious pastry incarnate. She was correct, he did have a sweet tooth. And she satisfied all his aesthetic cravings, and possessed all the qualities that he enjoyed. Contrary to what others thought, Elain was not small or petite--she was as tall as Feyre, and both were just a tad shorter than Nesta. But compared to an Illyian, these girls were small and delicate. 

He couldn’t stop himself, and placed his hands on her hips, drawing a scrutinising gaze over her luscious body. Then, he placed a soft kiss on her belly, before rubbing his cheek over her soft, full breast. She stroked the back of his neck, down his spine and sighed with enjoyment.

“I have a proposal,” he looked up at her, and then drew a naughty finger along the cleft of her cleavage. She rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed at the reaction. “Don’t trust me?”

She did. And she was always intrigued by his ‘proposals’.

“Every night this week,” he began, punctuating his words with mellow, light kisses up and down her chest and the valley between her breasts, “you’ll show me a new piece of yourself...What do you think?”

“Naked?” she breathed.

“Yes, baby, naked.”

He pressed his lips to her nipple, suddenly biting it through the silk of her wrap. Her nipples were thick and plump and he easily caught one between his teeth, considering how overstimulated she already was. She hissed softly, when he bit. He bit. Not particularly painfully, but he bit and tugged the nipple with his teeth, watching her the entire time.

She gasped a mewling ‘oy’, and he released, but only slightly.

“A little bit every night, until nothing is left. Until you are bared to me in all your loveliness.”

“Yes,” she groaned, as he nibbled and tugged on her nipple. “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

“Is this what you want to wear,” he went to take the nightgown from her hands, but she dropped it on the floor and said, “I don’t want to wear anything. Just this.”

He scooted back and pulled the covers and the blankets for her.

“I won’t argue. Come here.”

She slid in bed beside him and he moved on his stomach, which was his preferred sleeping position. His wings draped over the two of them, and he pulled her closer.

She kissed his shoulder, and settled under his arm. 

His breath evened out, and she thought that he fell asleep, until

“No one’s made dinner for me before,” he murmured. 

She stroked his forearm and then kissed his shoulder again.

He was warm and solid next to her, a veritable wall of muscle and she never felt more comfortable and content in her life. He slipped his heavy, large leg between hers, and her thighs wrapped around him instinctively.

“No one?”

He tucked his face atop of her head and kissed her face.

“No.”

“I will cook for you,” she offered, “and we’ll cook together. And you’ll cook for me. Because no one’s cooked for me either.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

Elain smiled and then asked,

“What’s your mother’s name?”

“Gulchatai.”

“Now I feel like I know something about you...something personal. It’s nice.”

“Elain, wake up!”

A cool whiff of air bounced up and down her face, and Elain swiped Lex away, only to have it come back momentarily. “Wake up!”

“Leave her alone,” she heard Azriel’s hiss. “Right now.”

“Why can’t she wake up?” complained Lex. “I am bored!”

“She doesn’t exist to entertain you.”

“I am awake, I am awake,” she moaned. “Stop sitting on my face.”

Eyes still half closed, she made her way to the bathing room, took care of her needs and appearance, and splashed her face with cold water. 

She glanced at herself in the large mirror. She couldn't say what it was, but she looked different. Confident? Perhaps. But more like ripe. Ripe for the taking.

As always, Azriel was propped against the headboard, swarmed with shadows, wearing his glasses and reading pages of reports.

“Come here, baby,” he called, “morning kisses.”

She smiled and bounded towards the bed, immediately giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“My gorgeous girl,” his hand swiped over her bare stomach, then her naked thigh. “Did you sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you,” she kissed him again. He wrapped his arm around her and pushed her head into his chest. 

“Morning news?” she smiled, watching the swirling mass of dark shadows around him. He nodded.

“Lex, do you have any news for me?” she then inquired.

“I don’t know anything!” 

“How come everyone else knows something and you don’t know anything?”

A pause, and then Lex sat on her chest and asked, “what do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the children,” she proposed.

Azriel was listening to them absently, smiling.

Shadows, just like horses or puppies, had to be trained and cultivated. Elain was learning that lesson right now. 

“Temal’s got into a fight,” reported Lex. Elain rolled her eyes. “Is he hurt?”

“No. But he was put on time-out.”

“What about the other boy?”

“He has two back eyes. Temal has one. And then Kira ate a big slice of cake before dinner.”

Then Lex rattled off her schedule for today, and asked, “You like this news?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Aziel was stuck dealing with some issue, already sending his shadows on some investigative mission when Elain threw on his shirt from yesterday--the first thing she found--and padded to the kitchen. Lex, as alway, was now yapping nonstop, giving her unnecessary gossip about the Fae that she barely even heard of. But as it was the case everywhere, there were famous Fae, scandalous Fae, notorious Fae. There was Anselma, a very popular singer, who was married, but her husband has been seen with another singer, Gunda, who was also sporting a pregnant belly. Whose babe do you think it is? pressed Lex busily. 

“Well, I don’t know!” Elain shrugged, as she began preparing coffee. She didn’t bother with tea, because she actually grew to like coffee quite a lot. Azriel had the best, finest variety, all the way from Day Court, where the soil produced the best coffee crops.

“How can you not care?” exclaimed Lex, “everyone is talking about it! It’s news.”

“I think the babe is Coast’s,” she humoured the shadow, even if she didn’t care.

“I think so too!” Lex agreed immediately.

Elain set the table, when Azriel entered quickly, shaking his head, looking at the clock.

He, nevertheless, slowed down, and came behind her, sliding his hand under her shirt and pulling her to him.

“I am sorry I am not helping,” he murmured, kissing her neck tenderly. 

“It’s fine,” she smiled.

“I’ll cook dinner tonight?” he offered.

“I’d like that.”

“Or would you like to go out?”

She pointed to the table and said, “How could I forget--you are supposed to be courting me.”

“I am courting you,” he reminded her and poured them both coffee.

“Human courting is all about balls and being seen in society, and picnics and Tea,”

“Do you want to go on a picnic?” he teased. “It’s late autumn? But, if you insist,”

She laughed and took a sip of her drink. “I like this courting more.”

“Oh thank the gods.”

He dug into the pear tart that she’d baked yesterday, and groaned with delight and pleasure, as he polished off the first slice and then moved on to the second right away.

“This is glorious,” he grumbled and Elain smiled a soft, secret smile, watching him enjoy himself.

“Why didn’t we eat this last night?”

“You took me to bed!” she exclaimed, indignant.

“You should’ve insisted.”

“Oh, so it's my fault?”

“I feel like it kind of is,”

She threatened, “I will take it away!”

“Fine, try,” he challenged. “But don’t think that I won’t fight you for it! Just because you are a girl and I like you. And I’ll win.”

She bubbled her lips and parried, incredulous, “I have Cauldron powers! You are just some little Illyrian soldier…”

He burst out laughing and then grabbed her hand and kissed it. “We’ll have to have a discussion about your powers later. But, baby, there is nothing little in this Illyrian soldier.”

She immediately glanced at his wings that were peaking behind him. 

“Now he is Cassian,” she muttered.

He laughed, but then tipped her chin and tsked, “no, no, no. You won't weasel out of this that easily. You’ve been eyeing my wings since last night. Don’t think I didn’t notice. You’ve never paid them that much attention before.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Hmmm.”

“You are the one saying that you are huge!” she threw.

“I never said any such thing,” he took a slow sip and raised his brow at her. “But tell me...you and the twins have been gossiping about the wings?”

“No,” she lied.

“Hmmm.”

“Stop humming!”

“What did Cerridwen say?” he inquired. Cauldron damn him. Was there something he didn’t know?

“She said absolutely nothing. Other than that you are...well-endowed.”

Elain blushed at his amused smirk.

He looked her over, lazily, seemingly forgetting that he was in a hurry.

“The tart was delectable,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Then, he tugged on his lower lip and mused, almost to himself.

“But I am still hungry.”

“I can make you eggs,” she proposed.”Toast,”

He ran his finger along her arm and murmured, “I have something else in mind. A Bagratian breakfast.”

But if Elain expected him to move and prepare this breakfast, he didn’t shift from his chair.

He thought and then moved his plate and patted the spot that the plate vacated.

“Come here, baby. My beautiful sweetheart,” he urged her off her chair, until she sat, a little stiffly on the table in front of him. “Let’s spread your legs a little, so we are both comfortable,” and he parted her thighs, while pushing himself closer to her, settling between her legs. 

“May I have my breakfast?” he asked her, kissing her cheek softly, watching her sink and melt against him. 

“Yes,” she gasped.

“This breakfast,” he whispered against her skin, placing slow, open-mouthed kisses on her neck, as he undid the few buttons in the back of the knit shirt, “is very, very popular…”

Elain could barely breathe, let alone pay attention to his explanation. Not when he tugged the shirt down her body, not when his scent washed over her, and not...oh, gods…

Azriel didn’t take his intense gaze off her when he pulled on the silk string of her breast wrap and it parted easily for him. Elain stopped breathing, pink and gorgeously hot in front of him, her hair a halo of dark gold around her, her knuckles white, as she gripped the edge of the table. He smiled and kissed her neck again. 

“Why are you so tense?”

“I...I don’t know,” she panted softly, her breasts rising and falling, just barely covered by the silk. “I, Az...oh...I just want you so badly,” she admitted nervously. 

“Good.”

And then he flipped the flaps of the wrap off her breasts, baring her completely for himself.

“Why are you so beautiful?” he muttered wholeheartedly, looking at the lovely pink nipples that swell before his eyes, at the soft, generous roundness of her breasts. 

Her back arched just a bit, as she displayed herself fully for him, no longer shy, once he laid his eyes on her and took her in with such unabashed hunger in his eyes.

“Taste,” she breathed and at once, he was a male unleashed. He brought her breast to his lips and bit her fat pink nipple, like he did last night. But there was no silk barrier between them today, and she felt his hot breath and the sharp clamp of his teeth over the nipple, as he pulled it deep in his mouth.

She almost tumbled on top of him, but he held her still, threading his fingers with hers, pressing her hands into the table. 

“Oh gods,” she moaned, “Az...gods…”

“You are so delicious,” he vowed, working his tongue over the nipple, wrapping it over the little knob, licking and licking with relentless determination. Elain squirmed and panted next to him, but he kept her hands firmly in his grasp, not allowing her to touch him. Her arousal hit him like a wave of pure ambrosia, the scent indescribable, her whole body melding into him. He wished he could adjust himself within his pants, but that would mean releasing her hands and he didn’t want to do that. So he bit the soft flesh of her breast again, sucking on the tender skin and watching tiny purple marks bloom along the trail of his teeth, until he returned to the nipple and sucked it deep into his mouth. She buckled and cried out, babbling something, and grasping his fingers painfully, while he sucked harshly, feeling the nipple grow and firm up in his mouth, lapping on it with ravenous determination.

“Fuck, Elain, baby,” he grunted, licking the underside of her breast, before covering the whole globe with kisses.The kisses were not soft or gentle, but candidly lustful, his mouth possessive, claiming, marking her. “Feels good, my sweet?”

“Az, my love, I need to…” she whined, almost in tears of frustration, especially as he pulled on her nipple with his teeth again, offering her the sweet, lacerating pain that she was craving so much. “Let me touch you,” she begged.

“Right now, it’s for me,” he declined. “If you're touching me, I can’t concentrate on you. Or what I want from you. And your tits are magnificent!”

“Suck more,” she begged, “please…”

“Good fucking girl,” he groaned, and then ordered, “don’t touch,” when he released the grip of one of her hands. Obediently, she pushed her hand under her thigh, so as not to be tempted. He cupped her other breast, squeezing it tightly, quickly learning that gentleness was not something Elain needed. In all his previous fantasies, his assumption was that she’d like a sweet, tender approach. And truth be told, he didn’t expect to unleash on her quite so ferociously right now, surprising even himself. But she took it all, and she wanted more. So when he dug his scarred, strong fingers into her supple flesh, and when he brought the two glorious globes together, to suck her swollen tight nipples at once, he knew that she wanted him to do just that. 

He loved breasts. He especially loved Elain’s breasts. But as he worked his mouth on her, sucking both of her lovely nipples, he also loved her response. She almost fell back on the table, and he caught her just in time, before her head landed on the hard surface. He cupped the back of her head, and stretched over her, kissing each swelling breast, and dragging his tongue thoroughly over each nipple, while she leaked and trembled under him.

“Good?”

“Oh good,” she admitted breathlessly. “Why didn’t you do this to me before?”

A smile touched his lips and he tongued her nipples leisurely, watching her, as he reminded her, “This is a forbidden romance, my love.”

“Oh yeah...I forgot,”

“I think that our High Lord doesn’t want me to do anything to you.”

He winked at her and she grimaced. She was ridiculously wet between her legs, but she no longer cared. Actually, she lost all inhibitions and all sense of propriety. She didn’t care about anything, other than his beautiful, demanding mouth on her breasts, his tongue working magic on her nipples. 

Before she could do anything, he pulled her up, so she sat back up in front of him.

“I haven't forgotten my breakfast,” he winked at her again, and then, unexpectedly, dipped his fingers in the butter jar, and smeared a generous layer of fatty, creamy sludge over her breast, his thumb teasing her aching nipple inexorably. 

“Oh,” she gushed, as he settled on the chair, between her legs, and held the breast in one palm, while concocting something enticing.

“The Bagarat Breakfast Bun,” he explained casually, as if he wasn’t sprinkling her buttered tit with a dash of cinnamon, and then a pinch of sugar. “Who needs pastries, right?” he pondered, and then gobbled her whole breast up, swallowing a good part of it, licking off the sugary spiced butter with his tongue, scraping his teeth over the skin, the nipple.

Elain almost fainted. Her vision darkened and were it not for the support of his massive arm, she surely would have fallen over.

“Sit still, baby, and let me enjoy,” he commanded with pretend sternness, as he treated her other breast with the same care and also added a dash of cream, which leaked obscenely into his mouth off her nipple.

“Oh, I think I like this version more,” he concluded, dribbling more cream over her breast and sucking it off her nipple, along with the butter.

“It’s a lot of fat, this early in the morning,” she protested, “you will have a heart attack!”

“I am immortal,” he reminded her. Then, he ordered, “hold your titties for me, please. So I can enjoy them in peace.”

She smirked, but cupped both of her breasts and presented them to him, as he dipped her nipples in even more cream and sucked hungrily. 

“My love,” she cooed to him, after she dipped her nipple into the cream herself and sprinkled it with sugar, “I think that I like your Bagarat pastry.”

“Bun,” he pinched her behind, “Bagarat Bun.”

He sucked a little more.

The little jar of cream was empty.

“Tomorrow, we’ll share it,” he promised, but did not elaborate.

She nodded. She’d agree to anything right now. 

“By the end of the week, you’ll be feeding me yourself,” he added and then softly kissed her lips, securing his promise with his mouth. 

He straightened and got up, brushing his thumb over her lips and popping it inside, for her to suck. She sucked, willingly, eagerly, watching him.

“And you will be naked,” he concluded, running his hand over her head. 

She nodded. 

“Would you like that, my good girl?”

She nodded again. 

She looked ravaged and he loved it. Swollen tits, dripping with sugar and cream, and coated in the remnants of butter, her hair a mess, her mouth wrapped around his thumb, sucking noisily. 

The idea of his cock in that glorious mouth, sucking just as noisily made his unbearably hard. He was already hard as granite, his cock aching and demanding, but when she sucked his fingers, it released a beast within him.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and bent to kiss her.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, her brown eyes looking at him with complete adoration.

“It was a perfect breakfast, Lainey,” Azriel smiled. “Thank you. I’ve got to go, but I will see you later?”

“Of course. But I have a request for you to mull over,” she jumped off the table, not bothering to cover up.

“I am listening.”

“I’d like for you to teach me how to handle a dagger.”

[written-on-the-trees]

Silver Linings In Winter Clouds - Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fiction

Prompt: Nativity Play (very, very loosely)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2100 words (I know, okay, it got away from me)

Summary: High-school AU. Colson is almost one-hundred per-cent sure that there was no punishment worse than having to join the drama club for their Christmas play, even one of the other members is possibly the cutest girl he's ever seen...

Colson had thought he had experienced the worst of his school’s punishments for bad behavior, having been in detention almost every week since he could remember, but he had been wrong.

   So, so wrong.

   He stared in horror at the carnage unfolding in front of him, and wondered if the punishment for bailing on this punishment could really be any worse than what he was currently facing.

 Sure, he might get suspended or something…but he wasn’t really sure that was any worse than being forced to take part on the drama club’s Christmas play. His dad would absolutely flip his shit, but he’d be able to pick up some extra shifts at work, and he’d get out of the fucking nightmare that was this drama club bullshit.

 Colson was more than ready to take his chances, when Mr. Greene, the drama teacher, saw him frozen in the doorway to the practice room, and cheerfully called out to him:

   “Mr. Baker! So glad you could make it.”

   Too late to escape now.

   Unwilling to lose face by running (or even walking) away now everyone was looking at him, Colson curled his lip in disdain and stepped further into the room.

 He wasn’t a coward.

 Disgusted by all this theatre shit, but not a coward.

 It was exactly the kind of attitude they were expecting from him, so it wasn’t long before they were all going back to focusing on that they had been doing before Mr. Greene had drawn everyone’s attention to him. Knowing Greene, it was probably a deliberate way of irritating Colson - the guy was just like that - but unfortunately that didn’t mean Colson could avoid him. Greene was the only one who could sign off on Colson’s report that documented him actually being here…and he was also the only one who could give Colson a job to do, because Colson sure as hell wasn’t taking any initiative with this shit.

 The less effort he could put in, the better. It was bad enough that people were going to think he was one of the drama nerds (albeit unwillingly), he refused to give anyone even an inkling that he was enjoying or being proactive about being part of this.

 As it was, Greene sent him over to work with the group of kids working on the scenery, muttering something about putting his height to good use. Colson had never been so grateful to be a lanky motherfucker as he was right then, walking over to where four girls and two guys were leant over various bits of paper, arguing between themselves.

   “Hey…apparently I’m meant to be helping out over here.” Colson announced to get their attention, watching as all six of them looked up from the paper and had six different reactions.

   Brendan, always the drama queen, threw his hands up and stormed away while muttering about not wanting to deal with ‘the white trash kid in detention’. His twin sister, Ellie, smiled apologetically and went after him to calm him down. Willow looked a little nervous, which was understandable since the last time she’d seen him he had been kicking the shit out of her older brother. Cameron beamed friendlily and welcomed him to the team. Darren just smiled.

 And then there was Belle.

 Colson had to stop himself from staring as she smiled at him, the soft, somehow glowing expression one he’d never had directed at him before.

 She looked so gorgeous, standing there in her black denim dungarees and white t-shirt with the small splotch of pink paint on the shoulder and with the paint and ink stains on her hands, Colson felt like he almost swallowed his own tongue. She just looked so…soft, so sweet, like some kind of paint-stained Christmas angel.

 He was instantly in love with her.

   I’m so screwed…

      Being in regular contact with Belle was doing nothing to stop Colson feeling like he was doomed – because if their first meeting had been difficult, with Colson feeling like he was tripping over his words every time he spoke to her (although thankfully she seemed not to have notices his sudden incompetence when it came to speech), then the second was basically excruciating.

 The thing was, Belle was nice.

 Genuinely, altruistically, nice.

 Unlike Brendan, who sneered at Colson every time he spoke, or Willow and Darren who were still a bit jumpy around him, Belle always took time to not just say hello when he showed up, but actually ask how his day had been and then listen when he responded - however flippant his responses were.

 She laughed at his jokes, and shut Darren up when Colson saw a bit of scenery design so blatantly stupid he had to suggest it be changed - because even if he was going to be part of this fiasco, he wasn’t going to have his name associated with anything so dumb as the fake graffiti Brendan had drawn on the plans.

 Modern take on the Christmas Nativity scene or not, there was no need for that bullshit.

   Colson hadn’t really expected anyone to take his side, even when he explained why he didn’t like it, but then Belle had nodded and said: “That’s a fair point - what would you suggest we do instead?”

 “Like, speak to someone who maybe knows how to do that graffiti shit?” Colson asked.

 “I’m sure you have a whole list of degenerate friends to recommend - ” Brendan sneered, but Belle cut him off:

 “Great idea, Colson. I know exactly who to ask.”

      On the day of their third meeting, Belle walked into the room five minutes later than Colson, with a familiar face trailing after her.

 Dom was a kind-of friend of Colson’s in the same way he was a kind-of friend with everyone in this school; he just had one of those personalities. He went to the same parties as Colson and his friends, wrote stories that had him in good standing with the English Lit kids, and apparently spent a lot of his art classes working next to Belle.

 He also was well known for creating various pieces of artwork all over any walls he got get to without being seen. His fingers were constantly stained with spray paint.

   Colson was a little bit surprised to see him, but still happy to chat while the others were distracted: “Hey man, I didn’t know you got involved with this shit.”

 “I don’t, normally. Mr. Greene hates me.” Dom laughed loudly - and drawing a furious expression out of Greene: “But Belle’s sound, and she asked me to ‘consult’, so here I am.”

   Colson shouldn’t be surprised that other people thought Belle was a good person - or ‘sound’ as Dom put it - and, when he thought about it, he wasn’t.

 He just surprised at how in love he was with her after just two meetings.

   I’m so unbelievably screwed…

      After a week of planning sessions, Belle took Colson to the art cupboard to help her gather supplies for painting the scenery Willow and Cameron were currently drawing out back on the stage of the school theatre.

 He wasn’t much use; standing outside with a big cardboard box in his arms while Belle actually found everything they had been sent out to go and get, but Belle didn’t seem to mind all that much…

   “I’m just so glad I don’t have to lug it all back by myself, or with Darren.” she confided in him while putting some pots of brightly coloured paint in the box he was holding: “Don’t tell him I said it, but you’ve got a lot more muscles than he does.”

 Colson knew she was only being friendly…but that didn’t stop him from winking at her: “Thanks, I worked hard for them.”

 “And they’re very nice, too.” Belle laughed, clearly taking his response as a joke…but Colson didn’t mind her missing him flirting with her.

   He’d seen her looking at his arms.

 She hadn’t just been teasing.

 Colson wasn’t the only one

      On opening night, Colson was hanging out backstage, leaning against a wall and waiting for his cue to help move the scenery about on stage. They had to keep it down, as to not be heard over ‘Marine’ and ‘Joey’ dramatically bemoaning that there was no room at the inn – in rhyming couplets (Colson was seriously glad he hadn’t been put with the kids writing the script for this punishment, he might have actually punched someone), but it was still…alright.

 Brendan was still a dick, obviously, but Willow had warmed up enough to offer him some sour patch kids from the bag she, Ellie, Belle, and Cameron were sharing (which was more than she’d offered Brendan - which Colson was taking as a major win), and Belle was leaning against the wall next to him, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black button-down shirt like the rest of them, with her chocolate-coloured hair smoothed into a sleek twist, and her skin free of paint.

 Honestly, Colson kind of missed the paint stains…but he had to admit he wasn’t ungrateful to be seeing the smokey eyeshadow and deep red lipstick she’d put on for when they went out on stage to take their bow after the play was over.

 After a month of spending anywhere between one and three hours a day with her, Colson could safely say he’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted Belle.

 She was…indescribable. Literally; he didn’t have all the words to describe her properly, and Colson prided himself on being eloquent. He adored everything about her: from the fact she was constantly sketching in a notebook just as he always had scraps of paper to write down anything he thought might sound good in a song, the way she was quick to laugh and even quicker to smile, and the fact that she was always willing to give someone a chance, no matter how disdainful they were when she met them.

 Yeah, he was talking about himself.

 Belle had been nice to him, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when, to make sure everyone knew he was no coward, he’d acted like a dick.

 Well, Colson still wasn’t a coward…so tonight, after they’d all taken their bow and shit, he was going to ask Belle if she wanted to go out with him at some point over the Christmas break. Just the thought was terrifying, but if she noticed anything, she was kind enough not to mention it as they waited around backstage, or as they moved scenery as required, or when they went out and took their bow with the script writers, the kid who’d done the lighting and sound effects, the kids who’d make the costumes.

 She just…carried on making normal conversation, and didn’t seem to mind when Colson’s responses were a little halting and disjointed. She didn’t even say anything when they were heading out of the back of the auditorium after most of the audience had left, and Colson was trailing after her, feeling a little like a lost puppy…

 He felt like an idiot, so when she paused just before she was about to say goodbye, Colson blurted out:

   “Hey, Belle, I know we probably won’t be seeing each other much now my detention in theatre club is over, since if I stick around I might get kicked out for finally punching Brendan like he deserves, but I was wondering if…maybe you wanted to go out over winter break? Like, on a date?”

 Belle looked surprised for a few seconds, and Colson’s heart dropped…but then she grinned, fishing a pen out of her pocket and scrawling her number on the back of his hand, before leaning up to press her lips against his cheek: “I’d love to. Text me to work something out?”

 “I’d love to…” Colson echoed, feeling a little dazed from the kiss…but still overjoyed.

   Belle laughed gently, before ducking out when someone called for her.

 Colson waited a few seconds in the room, probably smiling like an idiot, before heading out too.

   Slim and Rook were waiting for him just outside the doors, the grins on the faces confirming that they had heard everything Colson and Belle had said, with Slim greeting Colson with a congratulatory grin: “So, bro, how do we sign up next year? I’m thinking I need a way to find me a hot girl…”

[dearericbittle]

Sterek masterpost

So, now that I’ve written 30 (!) Sterek fics, I figured it was about time that I made a masterpost of my stories. You can find the full list on my Tumblr as well!

Been here before and it just feels right (strangers tonight) - (T, 3.4k) Summary: Derek Hale was an awkward teenager, but he grew into himself. He grew out of that pulling pigtails phase. Shame that being reunited with his old crush brings it all back. Even worse: Stiles doesn’t even seem to recognize him. Or does he?

Better that I break the window (than miss what I should see) - (M, 9k) Summary: Someone opened Stiles’ window. But he’s all the way on the 7th floor - how the fuck did that happen? Spoiler alert: werewolves are real. And really hot.

Bring on the monsters (bring on the real world) - (E, 11.1k) Summary: He was supposed to be making an impression on Lydia, but instead he’s making fun of a terrible werewolf costume. To be fair, those mutton chops remind him of Michael J. Fox in the worst way, and the guy didn’t appear to be too offended. He was too busy smelling Stiles for some reason. He really shouldn’t have forgotten cologne.

but that’s just a first impression (I could be totally wrong) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: Derek is on a really awful blind date (Laura will pay for this). But the waiter is really cute.

The coolest wolf in the whole wide world - (T, 8.3k) Summary: Stiles is surprisingly good at being a wolf. Like, super good at control, loves the drama of making weird entrances, and determined to try all the things. Because he has to find out what’s different about being a wolf. And Derek is going to be his Yoda, whether he wants to or not. Only Stiles is pretty sure Yoda never smelled this good.

Detective Stiles Stilinski and the Case of Derek Hale’s Mysterious Mate - (T, 5.6k) Summary: Mates are a thing. A werewolf thing. Which is fine and shit, but finding out that Derek fucking Hale has a mate? That gets to him. And seeing as Derek won’t tell him who it is, well… Guess that means this is a job for Detective Stiles Stilinski - if he’s not too distracted by his traditional banter with Derek.

Everything mixed up (and baked in a beautiful pie) - (T, 6/6, 42k) Summary: Stiles’ friends are more of a pain in the ass than usual around the holiday season. Just because he spends all of his time at his bakery, doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. So hiring a fake boyfriend seems like the perfect, simple solution. Instead Stiles stumbles onto a stupid quest to make Derek Hale happy. But surely that will all work out in time.

Fit hot guys have problems too (don’t objectify us with your male and female gaze) - (T, 1.7k) Summary: To Cora, 1:24 AM: im tired of guys just wanting to hook up with me. im like, guys, i know im pretty and i have a slammin bod and i love making out, but cant someone treat me with respect?? Derek is tired of being objectified. Enter Stiles Stilinski, hot mess who has an opinion about everything. Derek is surprisingly intrigued.

Gymnophoria - (T, 0.9k) Summary: Stiles is paranoid - he keeps feeling someone’s eyes on him. Surprisingly, no nefarious plans happen.

He got lost in my DMs (wanna be way more than friends) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is somewhat of an online hero, providing candid pictures of himself to anyone who wants persistent suitors to just go away already. Stiles… is suddenly surrounded by assholes who apparently really want to hear about how great his fake boyfriend is. Part 1 of Slide into those DMs

Heard you were tough (but you don’t look it) - (T, 3.6k) Summary: Derek is a protective Alpha, and whenever he sees a human in danger, he has to step in. Usually people are grateful. This guy? Not so much. 3 times Derek saves that ungrateful magic user’s life, and 3 times the ungrateful asshole saved his in return

Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark) - (T, 6k) Summary: Stiles is only at this masquerade party for revenge. Theo Raeken has taken everything from him, and this is the only way he can get close enough to ruin his fucking life. He gets sidetracked by a mysterious stranger who’s looking for revenge of his own. Maybe they can help each other…

I might never be (your knight in shining armor) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: So, in Stiles’ defence, he didn’t actually know that the woman harassing the dude-sel in distress was an actual witch. Or that the dude in question was an Alpha werewolf who claimed to be able to handle himself. Stiles agrees to disagree on that one.

I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover) - (T, 6k) Summary: Derek is pretty happy with the mate he’s somehow chosen, even though Stiles has no idea - and no interest in Derek. But that’s fine. Except Peter just has to open his big mouth, because he clearly wants to ruin Derek’s life. Part 2 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’d be a fearless leader (I’d be an Alpha type) - (T, 7.8k) Summary: Most teenagers would run off if they found a bleeding half-wolf, half-lady with red eyes snarling at them. But Stiles’ fight or flight response has always been a little fucked, and Laura Hale looks like she could use a break. Part 1 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’m gonna light a spark (gonna hold my breath until the morning) - (T, 2.5k) Summary: Derek hates the bus, hates how people use it as an excuse to sit close to him and bat their eyelashes at him. And then this stranger who smells like home just falls asleep on his lap.

Lie under different stars (I’ve not seen you in the flesh for so long) - (T, 3,4k) Summary: In which Laura Hale is a queen of holding on to childhood mementos and seeing things her brother won’t, and Derek Hale rediscovers his love of Mischief.

The man who’s gonna marry you (make you feel alive) - (T, 4.2k) Summary: Only Finstock could marry the wrong people. Only Greenberg could fill out the papers wrong, but Finstock didn’t even check. It was like he wanted Stiles to be married to Derek Hale. And no one would want that, except maybe… Stiles.

No more dark sad lonely (k)nights - (T, 2k) Summary: Derek is an Alpha without an emissary, so his nosy betas made sure he attended the convention. Stiles is clearly in the wrong convention hall, because his Batman cosplay does not appear to be going over well.

Old you in the garbage (new you in display case) - (T, 13.4k) Summary: Stiles is lonely and desperate and suffering from a crush on the grumpiest librarian. So what’s a boy to do but cook up a ridiculous plan to get himself dated and/or finally get laid before the holidays? He just wants his She’s All That moment, okay? He never expected that the plan would actually help him get the guy.

Real life isn’t a movie (life doesn’t make narrative sense) - (M, 11.6k) Summary: Somehow accidentally insulting a hot guy in a coffee shop leads to pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a house full of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski is living his best life and making the most of his Hallmark movie moment.

Shoot your shot when you see em (he’s already in my DMs) - (T, 3.9k) Summary: Derek may or may not be falling in love with one of Laura’s employees, and he’s only ever spoken to him on the phone. Stiles doesn’t even know his name! But apparently, he does know how to slide into his DMs. Part 2 of Slide into those DMs

Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with mistletoe) - (T, 9.5k) Summary: It’s the same thing every time. Derek Hale comes home, the town is in a snit, and Stiles Stilinski polishes his metaphorical armor and gets ready for a battle of wits. Not that he considers Derek’s comments particularly witty. Their friends are just tired of the sexual tension and the rampant egos, and they’re ready to do something about it.

Such great heights (corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces) - (T, 3.3k) Summary: In which everyone in the pack is together and alive, because fuck canon. In which Stiles is surprised that Derek’s super hearing fails him. He just wants to know how tall Derek is, why is that such a big deal?

Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: Scott was cool now - the Squip had made sure of that. Stiles? Not so cool. All he has left are his cryptic conversations with perpetually wasted Derek Hale as he desperately tries to get an evil computer chip from taking over Beacon Hills.

We were young once (innocent and fun once) - (T, 5,3k) Summary: So maybe making Lydia jealous is just an excuse for him to finally talk to Derek Hale - it’s been ten years and clearly that high school crush is not over. There’s just a lot more to Derek than he was expecting.

We’ll put on a show (Scotty has to know) - (T, 7.7k) Summary: Stiles is a stubborn asshole, determined to have fun in Europe even though Scott stays behind in Belgium because of a girl. So asking a stranger to make out with him for the ‘Gram? Totally the best decision he’s ever made, and not just because that’ll totally show Jackson (and Scott!). Shame he won’t see the guy again, though.

What it looks like to forget (it’s easier that way) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: He has no idea who he is, but the stranger with the whiskey eyes is calling him Derek. And the guy has been sitting at his bedside for three days, so he’s got some credit. Especially because the guy smells like he should be his - though that is a supremely weird thought that he probably needs to figure out first.

You want forgiveness (I’ll give that to you) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

You’re moving me around you (I said darling hold me) - (T, 14,5k) Summary: Derek is the only beta in a pack of two, blaming himself for the loss of their entire family. When his sister pays someone to get him used to human contact again, Derek preps himself for a couple unwilling handshakes before he kicks the stranger out of his den. Stiles is… not what Derek expected.

[an-aspiring-jester]

My take on Uncle Scrooge and his relationship with his family based on „Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck”

Okay, so this is going to be really long and unnecessary rant about things that were probably said thousand times before, but I just needed to organize my thoughts so might as well do it here :)

First of all, I agree that Don Rosa’s Scrooge is… not a good uncle. Far from it. He is mean to his nephews, exploits them mercilessly, is selfish, petty, stubborn and occasionally manipulative, but… he has a reason to be. His behavior is not justified, but it’s understandable. He just needs a little more time, patience and support from his family (which he gets now) to overcome this attitude and change.

Let’s start at the beginning: His Number 1 Dime. We all know that Fergus did this with his best intentions in mind, so Scroogie learns to rely on himself, values hard work etc., etc.… BUT: remember he is still just a 10 years old boy! And, I get that they were poor, he had to help support his parents and DIDN’T MIND DOING IT, loved it, in fact, but… when he became a little obsessed with making money, working non-stop, NOONE really stopped him to tell that maybe it’s not entirely healthy and it’s okay to take a break once in a while. They benefited from the situation… Additionally, he didn’t know about his father’s little “scheme” (maybe for the better) so his most prized possession remains a reminder of the time he was cheated for his labor as a kid. Not really helping with a positive view on the world. And don’t even mention the pressure of being the Last of the Clan McDuck and all the expectations to make a name for himself and save the ancestral castle… No wonder he became a workaholic at such a young age! XD Again: Fergus loved his son with all his heart and wanted what’s best for him, he just… didn’t think of all the side-effects.

Then we have his Uncle Angus. A guy who exploited his nephew, tricked him, put him in danger multiple times, valued his potential treasure more than their LIFES, and not only didn’t really acknowledged Scrooge saving  the day, but downright stole the glory for himself and portrayed him as a useless dummy in his novels. And STILL counted on him to clean up after his mistakes. (The Vigilante of Pizen Bluff) Sounds familiar? Why would Scrooge treat his nephews differently if HE turned out okay? (I even dare to say he treats them slightly better than Pothole did) What’s more – when Scrooge was on the receiving side of this dynamic – HE NEVER EVEN COMPLAINED! Just treated it as something normal, admirable even! He really DOESN’T see why Donald or the boys would have a problem with that.

Scrooge spent most of his life alone. During that time he learned the hard way that people are going to judge him based on what he owns, people he considered friends are bound to turn his enemies once he gets richer than them, some of them won’t hesitate to kill him for profit *cough*Glomgold*cough*. The first time his family managed to contact him was when they needed cash for castle taxes. He drops everything and rushes to the rescue – yet the only reason his ancestors decide he’s worthy enough to continue living is that he’s going to become “the cheapest tightwad on Earth” (to Scrooge’s shock). You can see how optimistic and open-hearted Scrooge gets progressively colder and harsher (the way he acts after rescuing Glomgold versus Jaburi Kapirigi? Entirely different.). And at that point he STILL worries about his family and their well-being, even though his situation is probably much worse than theirs. He never got a letter from home. He’s been captured and ridiculed mercilessly - on account of his mother’s DEATH for crying out loud! Maybe that’s why he’s so unwilling to show any kind of care or affection? Because if you do - someone might as well use that sentiment to hurt you. The love of his life only wanted to rob and cheat him (his perspective) - no wonder he’s got trust issues. The only way to survive in this cruel world is to be just as ruthless as it is.

And when he comes back home? (Again - Scrooge doesn’t abandon his family once he gets rich. He still wants to go back home, to be with them and run his business from Scotland. When he realizes he doesn’t belong there anymore – he asks them ALL to move out with him. And when Fergus disagrees, he WANTS to reconsider this, it’s Fergus who cuts him off and order him to take his sisters away, without giving a chance to argue.) He got rotten tomatoes thrown at him JUST BECAUSE he’s rich now (at least that’s how Rosa portrayed that scene). And his father is disappointed when he (albeit harshly) defends himself! How unfair is that?

His sisters focus on how grand he LOOKS (our brother – billionaire), one of the first things they ask him about is what he BROUGHT them, when they realize he carries cash around (for him – his most important keepsakes!) they just call him loon, without considering his point of view. They’re tired of his stinginess and complain when he makes them do the hard work - but it’s not like he’s slacking off at the time! It’s more of a “Welcome to my world” sort of thing. And again – I ADORE Hortense and Matilda, they clearly love their brother and are just excited to see him back – but fail to understand how he changed. And do very little to help him adapt. Teasing him about his paranoia does not. If anything, it just makes him feel like they don’t treat him seriously and don’t appreciate his accomplishments. Maybe that’s why he tries so hard to impress them. He starts taking shortcuts, challenges his principals. Yeah, he’s frustrated with world and how it treats him. He wants to take an easy road for once. He ignores his sisters begging, refuses to listen to reason. That’s his fatal mistake and his lowest point. But what he says while watching the destruction of Foola Zoola’s village? “Nobody humiliates a McDuck in front of his kin!”. He cares about what they think of him, but his priorities are messed up. When he comes back to the tent he starts with: “That’s more wealth for you two to INHERIT someday, so you can stop pretending to be outraged.” He honestly BELIVES that. If almost everyone he crossed paths with was only interested in his money – why should his FAMILY be any different?! (Later he thought that Donald agreed to meet him at Christmas dinner only to “see how rich he’ll be when Scrooge’s gone”. And I THINK that part of the reason that in Rosa’s comics (unlike Barks’) we only ever see them hanging out in the Bin or on an adventure is that Scrooge may STILL think that they only agree to spend time with him when he pays them. What other reason they would have to put up with him? That’s just depressing, when you think about it.) That’s the twisted way he sees the world nowadays. And even then he managed to realize that burning the village WAS a mistake and attempts to fix it! Sure, he delays their reconciliation more and more – still convincing himself that “my sisters will forgive my delay when they see this.” It’s sad how delusional he got.

And on to the big fight – at that point, Scrooge is a changed man. And Hortense’s yelling doesn’t do any good. (Again – they have every right to BE outraged, it’s just… not the best way to actually SOLVE anything.) They say he won’t ever see them again – and honestly, WHAT KIND OF A THREAT IS THAT TO HIM?!! He ALREADY spend 50 years of his life WITHOUT THEM! Without anyone! For HIM – it doesn’t make any difference! From his perspective – his family really IS “nothing but trouble.” Ungrateful freeloaders, holding him back. (Side note: in Letter from Home it was A LITTLE unfair for Matilda to accuse him of not “being around” with them at the castle – when at the time he was earning money so they could KEEP the castle. A bit of hypocrisy, in my opinion. And Scrooge didn’t even defend himself, thinking he deserves it.)

Scrooge spent his entire adulthood with no one to rely on, besides himself. Almost every time he trusted someone he ended up backstabbed one way or another. He doesn’t NEED anyone, he survived on his own this long, he can continue to do so. Yet when his sisters abandoned him for good – “no joy remained.” He CARED about them, even if he wouldn’t admit it. He still wanted to have them around. He got so depressed, he retired and was ready to spend the rest of his days in a lonely mansion, basically waiting for death. Until he finally decides to reach out for his only nephew…

Basically what I’m trying to say here is: Scrooge McDuck loves his family wholeheartedly. He ALWAYS did. They always had been his priority. He just has NO IDEA what SHOWING love is supposed to look like! And you can’t really blame him. Let’s just hope that Donald and the rest of the gang can teach him that eventually.

[fallen029]

I say chapter 2 for the Miraxus Vampire AU!! Your imaginations are just the best ^^

Part I

It was a rough adjustment to say the least, going from the freedom of a young man in his twenties with no attachment other than his homegrown business, to the chains of being the only normal person in a household full of abnormality.

Which was putting it lightly.

He was the only one who wasn’t a vampire, like the Strauss siblings, a slave to said vampires, like poor Evergreen and Freed, or a complete and utter moron who Laxus was pretty sure had no hangups over all had gone on, like stupid Bickslow. No, Bickslow was riding high as the house ‘jester’ and kitten father and it was all just so aggravating that sometimes Laxus thought about it.

He could do it.

Kill them.

Really, the only one he wanted to take out with the main one. Mirajane. The Mistress. She was the one that caused all of this. He wondered too if maybe vampires were, like, ants or bees. If he killed their queen, would all the others die? Is that how it worked? Sure, it would be horrible to recognize his own dealings in the death of his two friends, Freed and Ever, but at the same time…

Those…things weren’t Evergreen and Freed any longer. He had to keep reminding himself of this fact. It was the truth. Their bodies were just vessels and what happened to them from this point out had no bearing on the souls that had long since departed.

It would be retribution, if anything. Justice. An end to any suffering they might still be facing, trapped within themselves. How could he just sit there and do nothing? Huh? When he was the only one with the opportunity to bring it all to an end?

And yet, as dawn rose each morning, dragging the sun willingly along the sky, he found himself not focusing on how to distract Freed long enough to sneak down into the cellar, where he’d find them all, slumbering the day away, where he could easily drive stakes through each of their hearts.

It would be a blessing, even, he was pretty sure, to the three of them. Was it not a curse? Their immortality? That’s what she told him, once, when this all first began. That he was lucky to bear the brunt of mortality.

Then why not just end things?

He figured this had to do with the whole damnation aspect. If that was an aspect. Bickslow insisted it was. But even still, Laxus would find hellfire far more preferable to feasting on the blood of the innocent. Still, he couldn’t imagine that Bickslow was enjoying himself as much as he let on either. They were all just surviving with what they’d been giving. Selfishly, sure, fine, but each day (or night) that they continued to draw breath was a win, no matter how dirty the tactics.

Where did that leave him, anyways? Laxus saw himself as an unwilling participant in all of this, but he never left. Or when he did, it was merely to do what had to be done. Gather supplies, assure the locals. That sort of things. He always came back. He wasn’t charmed or imprinted on or any of that weird stuff a vampire might do to have a hold over someone. No. He was just…

Going along with all of it.

Fear at first, maybe, had a play in everything, but now he felt little of it. Or at least it wasn’t overpowering his senses. Mirajane had been right. Repulsion fled with repetition and he found himself falling into the daily schedule of the Strauss mansion with little hesitance. In a certain kind of way, it wasn’t so different from his daily life before that. Manual labor, renovating a decaying mansion in the hot summer.

What a long one of those it would be.

.

“Oi, boss, I think one of my little kittens here is sick. Peppe. Look at ‘im. Does this look like a normal kitten to you?”

“Bickslow,” the man growled as he stood out in the yard, cutting at the shrubbery, “I’m busy.”

“Just look at ‘im, boss. He looks pale.”

“It’s a white fucking cat, Bickslow.”

“Kitten.”

“Bick-”

“Go on then, you bastard,” the acrobat was growling suddenly and when Laxus glanced over his shoulder, he saw the man nursing a bleeding thumb. The kitten apparently didn’t like being swung around for the blond to see and had either bit or scratched the other man. Tossing him to the ground, Bickslow glared after the feline before looking to Laxus once more. “Kids are so ungrateful. Say, that’s actually what I was wondering about.”

“I don’t give a shit about your cats, man.”

“Kittens.” Still, Bickslow was quick to follow as Laxus, finished with the bush before him, was stalking off across the yard to the other. “To bad for your woman, you know. Is she still a woman? Your vampire then, eh? Can’t see ya all hot and bothered like this. Shirtless. Working hard under the sweltering sun.”

“If you’re coming on to me, I’m not interested.”

“Nah, not me. No way. I’m a single father now, man. That’s a lot of work.”

“I thought you and Lisanna were taking care of the kittens together?”

“The woman only comes around at night! All day, I toil over my precious babies and she just-”

“You know, man, I’m really fucking busy right now, so-”

“I have a question,” Bickslow insisted as they came to a stop before another overgrown shrub. “Okay, look, listen to this. I’ve been wondering ‘cause it keeps me up at night, yeah? Well, among other things-”

“Bickslow-”

“Can vampires reproduce?”

“What? Why are you ask-”

“And if they can, does it gotta be with something else undead? Or can you and the, uh, Mrs. Boss, uh… I’s talkin’ to Freed about it and we were very concerned. Well, I was concerned. He just sorta sat there and went on and on about all his chores he had to do, but… How can something undead give life to something not? And man, it would suck for you, ya know? Is it your kid or one of the thousand of other guys, she, uh, gets favors from, right? I mean-”

“Would you shut up?” And he dropped the clippers then, Laxus did, as he turned on the man with blazing eyes and Bickslow threw up his hands in defense, nearly falling back over his own feet as he tried to scramble away. “I’m fucking working you absolute-”

“So I’m a prisoner here and I ain’t even got free speech?” Bickslow was running across the yard then, away from him. “Well, prisoner in name only. But I got rights, boss! You’ll see! I’ll bring this up to the kid tonight. You just wait!”

But Laxus didn’t think of the man again that night. Or anything, really, as he found yard work to not even be a good distraction from his roaring thoughts.

.

They seemed to have some sort of internal clocks that told them when to rise from their shadowy depths, the Strauss siblings did. As sundown changed just slightly with each passing day, he wondered how exactly their bodies knew so well. Perhaps they were just that in tune with the earth?

Regardless, he typically found himself waiting for the Mistress on the couch in her bedroom, where Freed would follow her after the pair made sure her brother was alright and her sister was content, to pour her wine and listen to any daily chores she had until the next sundown.

Laxus would only sit there patiently, usually, for this to occur as he looked everywhere other than his former friend. To see the man now, mindless and void, really gave the blond an ache deep in his heart.

One night after Freed had pour her a glass of wine and bowed his way out of the room, Mirajane only went to look longingly out the window as Laxus couldn’t do anything other than stare at her deeply.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, my love,” she offered simply, mistaking the gaze for hunger. “For anything.”

“I just have a, uh, question.” Laxus had never stuttered, really, before he came to the mansion, but he found his words falling over themselves frequently around the woman. Coughing slightly into his hand, he added, “That’s all.”

“Ask until you are content.” She didn’t even glance over at him as he rose to his feet. Instead, eyes falling down into her glass, she whispered, “I will answer to the best of my ability.”

Nodding, he took a step closer before, with hesitation, finding his feet firmly planted where they were currently. “I was just curious… How is it that…”

“I said you can ask, Laxus.” She still wouldn’t look at him. She seemed distracted, honestly. Worried. “Not stammer at me.”

“Right. I just… You can’t get, like, pregnant or some shit like that, can you?”

“What?” That did get her gaze, but the look was one of displeasure. Rolling her eyes so deeply he thought perhaps she’d gone into a trance, the woman finally retorted, “What an idiotic question. Of course not. Who would think such a thing?”

Bickslow.

Still, the man merely said, “I was just making sure, is all. Contraception is kind of a normal thing now. I figure it wasn’t back when you were…when…well-”

“You are beginning to bore me, Laxus.” Her gaze was out the window again. “Please try and avoid such an occurrence.”

Frozen for a moment, he shook his head some as he felt his feet get life again. Advancing on the woman, he stared out the window as well. In the pale moonlight, he saw just as she did, Bickslow doing twirls and jumps for a not visible Lisanna.

“They both enjoy one another,” she offered softly, “at least. It’s been a long time since Lisanna has had someone to play with. He’s a bit…off, but I am pleased with the jester’s dedication.”

“Yeah,” Laxus whispered as she turned then, from the window and him, walking across the room to refill her glass, “dedication.”

.

“You’re always the one that gets to go away somewhere fun,” Lisanna griped to her sister early one evening as the Mistress had them all gather in the living area. Even Evergreen and the brother, Elfman, were there. One a brute of a man, the still quite muscular man merely sat where he’d been helped, on the couch, not able to raise his eyes as his sister’s bickered. “You don’t trust us to do anything anymore. I wasn’t the one that got hurt. Elf was-”

“Silence.” She never raised her voice, Mirajane did, but she had a way of getting the attention of others regardless. As Freed stood at her side and the others sat around on the furniture, Mirajane only addressed them all with a dark gaze. “I have important business to attend to. I except there to be no problems, here at home, while I am gone. You stay out of the sight of the villagers, Lisanna, Elfman, and you both keep up appearances, Freed, Laxus. When I return-”

“Laxus?” Lisanna frowned over at him and even stuck her tongue out. “How come he’s staying? Take him with you. I hate when he just looms around the house all day.”

“You,” the man complained with a glare right back (though he was apprehensive over the brother and downright terrified of Mirajane, Lisanna felt more like the petulant children he dealt with down at the group home), “sleep all day. I sleep at night. Why is that a problem?’

“It’s annoying.” She could only shrug. “Doesn’t feel natural.”

“You know-”

“You all behave like children.” With a roll of her eyes, Mirajane looked to Freed. “I expect you to keep things in order while I am away. I will return before the end of the week. Should anything occur, you know how to get in contact with me, yes?”

“I,” Lisanna complained again, “know what to do if anything goes wrong, Mira. Me. Not them. I’m the whole reason any of them are here!”

“Will you be gone that long?” Elfman finally spoke, voice soft as he raised his eyes some. “Big sis?”

It was with a soft sigh that she went to push her brother’s white locks away from his eyes, staring down at him as Evergreen sat beside, looking void and disinterested.

“Never,” Mirajane assured her younger brother.

.

Laxus didn’t understand why he got left behind, but decided to make the most of it. Working all day, sleeping all night. Like he used to. Rather than sleeping in shifts between doing the housework, going to town, and dealing with the Strauss siblings in the evening.

He had his own room, separate from Mirajane’s, which he was free to use when she wasn’t up to bother with him. Or when she wished to be alone, as she did, some nights. The bed wasn’t as comfortable and the room was much smaller, barren, but it suited him and his attitude towards his situation.

One night, sleep was a bit difficult because he could hear Elfman wailing, loudly, in his downstairs quarters, over something or other, and Bickslow was jumping all about the house with his cats. And Freed seemed to have been instructed to wander about, between Mira’s siblings, checking up on them. Laxus could hear his slow, methodical steps as he went up and down the stairs periodically, doing as he’d been told.

Sleep was just hard to come by.

Laxus laid with his headphones in, listening to music, and kind of just wished Mirajane would return soon. She seemed to bring balance to the house. Without the Mistress around, everything felt disconnected. No one was really the head of the house and they were all just miserable people, trapped in a mansion together, bringing the misery onto one another.

Just what, the golden haired man found himself fearing frequently, could Mirajane be dealing with anyways? She seemed rather worried over something. Did it have to do with him? And Bickslow? Or maybe Elfman’s…accident? Something like that?

Who was she even going to speak with?

And how many others were there? Like them? Int he world? Were the Strauss siblings oddities or a shadowy norm?

Maybe there was a council, he worried then, of vampires. A hierarchy? Just where did the woman fall on that? She seemed rather high and mighty, towards her siblings, who fell in line under her, but did that have to do with birth order? Or some sort of chain of command?

Why did it bother him so much? The idea that the woman, Mirajane, his…Mistress wasn’t at the top? Because it did. The idea that there were more powerful, more commanding vampires out there than her really bothered him. And not just because the implication of darkness and evil that had towards the world at large.

.

It didn’t make much sense to the man at first. What was happening. He’d drifted off some uncomfortably and was a bit dazed as he heard the soft footsteps that certainly weren’t the pensive, watchful Freed or the excitable Bickslow. No. They were different.

“Lisanna?” he whispered softly as she slipped into his room. Frowning as he rubbed at his eyes, he asked, “Is everything alright? Is someone here? I’ll go take care of-”

“No one’s here.” She shut the door softly behind her, coming forwards. “It’s my home, is it not? Can I not choose where to be inside of it?”

“What?” She was being too confusing for him to be so groggy. “Did you need something or not?”

Btu she was staring at him as the moonlight wafted through his room and it was so bizarre because part of him knew exactly why she’d come, but another part of him refused to acknowledge it.

“Lisanna? Hey, kid, I think I lost one of the kittens again and I’m really worried about him. Have I mentioned to you that he don’t look too good? Lisanna?”

She made a face, over her shoulder, before looking at Laxus again and oh shit, he was so fucked.

But not that night, as she slipped back out of the room to go deal with her personal jester. Laxus just sat up in bed for a full minute, shocked, dazed, and filled with dread.

What was he supposed to do now?

.

The height of summer was upon them and it was a scorcher out. Laxus decided, without Mirajane there to dictate just what he did with his days, that he would go into town. Not the dumb village though. A real town. To get away from the mansion for a bit.

Maybe…maybe even write his grandfather?

But he couldn’t. He thought about it, honest, he did, and even located the location to do so, but he just…

What could he say? After so long? The last his grandfather had heard from him was when he first started renting out that little shopfront, hopeful for the future. He’d always meant to write the man again. To go back again, honestly. With extra cash. To see who was still around and who’d gotten homes. Maybe even offer a job to some of them. Maybe. The kids. The ones that were grown by that point.

It just never came together.

Laxus had found a new family there, for a bit, in his little team. Evergreen and Bickslow could get on his nerves like no other, but they reminded him a lot of the kids in that way. And Freed, well, he could be a bit of a hassle as well, what with his near constant insistence of doing the right thing and being an upstanding citizen and all that. He was a lot like his grandfather.

But now that family was shattered and factored and it would never come all together again. It couldn’t. The Strauss siblings made certain of that.

There was a slight fear, as well, or at least a consideration he’d kind of pushed away before, but…

The Mistress had made it quite common knowledge between the two of them that all things come to an end. Though she implied he would age, she didn’t necessarily indicate that this would lead to a natural end in their relationship. The opposite, even. She told him that she would be the one to end him.

When the time came.

Now with Lisanna clearly wanting…from him, well, he had a bad feeling that things were going to go south much faster than Mirajane had anticipated.

Laxus caught a drink alone at a bar and plotted this all out in his head.

Lisanna hadn’t been too coy, sneaking into his room so late at night, and that meant that she wanted… But Laxus didn’t want…well… It was weird. Wtiht he Mistress. He felt such a strong, undeniable attraction for her. Was it the power? The fact that she could completely fuck his entire shit up with a snap of his fingers?

Or just her in general?

Then there was her younger sister. Lisanna. There was nothing wrong with her. At all. She was just…not Mirajane. Yes. And Mira had told him, even, that she had no interest in men. That she was keeping Bickslow more as a pet than anything else. And that seemed to hold up as true, over a month out. Bickslow was entertaining to her and nothing more.

He’d thought this meant that Mira was right. That Lisanna just wasn’t looking for the same thing that she was. But apparently not.

It didn’t matter how many beers Laxus downed. He couldn’t wash away the feeling that this was going to end poorly for him. Imagine it. Having a super hot girlfriend who goes away for the week and then bam! Her sister is throwing herself at you. You know if you go for it, your girlfriend will eventually find out about it, and ‘end’ you, like she threatened, but if you don’t…

Well…

Then you’ll get your blood sucked out in a violent manner by her equally as scary and powerful little sister.

Imagine it.

Laxus could.

It’s why he decided not to go home that night.

.

“Where were ya last night, boss?” Bickslow yawned to the man in the middle of the afternoon when Laxus arrived back at the place. He hesitated some, when he found the guy waiting for him on the front porch, but Bickslow had something else on his mind than true worry over his friend. “My kitty ain’t well! It’s-”

“Shut the fuck up, Bickslow. Moron.”

Freed seemed interested in Laxus absence, but made little mention in it other than informing him he should not be gone, at night, when the Mistress is about.

“Well, she ain’t, is she, Freed?” he grumbled some to the mostly vacant stare of the man he once considered his best friend.

Still, he took heed of this and decided to be around that night, just in case the woman showed back up.

He didn’t sleep in his room though. No. He slept in Mirajane’s, with the door locked, completely sealed off from the others. He was answering no knocks or inquiries. Just going to put his headphones in and zone out from the entire world. If this bothered Mira, should she arrive home that night, so be it.

It wasn’t like she’d kill him over it.

But she might if she found him in bed with her sister.

No. Things were just best if Laxus kept to himself and avoided Lisanna all together until Mira got back and then…then…

Well, he wasn’t sure then what. A few days removed, he wasn’t even certain he’d read Lisanna’s intentions correctly. It was late and he was tired and maybe…maybe his ego was just getting in the way of logical thought. Yes. Maybe. Possibly.

Lisanna was just messing around. Or did want something. Probably to find Bickslow. Yeah. She was looking for him and then there he was and that was that.

Right?

Right.

Obviously.

The sleep was still uncomfortable, but he found it much preferable to the worried one he’d had the previous two nights.

.

There was a certain sense you got, unilaterally, when you felt someone’s eyes upon you. It wasn’t even supernatural. Just a sense people got, a feeling. It had nothing to do with the powers that the Strauss siblings possessed.

And yet, it felt enhanced, somehow, when it came to them. His blood would run cold, if he was walking around the property at the exact post-dusk moment they came out of their cellar. Could literally feel the Mistress’ eyes across the sprawling property. Knew when they were on him. When they spied him, out late at night, in a storm, trying to track down damn kittens as she watched from her window.

He found Lisanna had the same power.

His snores turned to slight, chilly shakes as he peeked his eyes open and found her there, in the bedroom with him. He was confused for a moment and then only glared.

“How did you get in?” he griped, softly, whispered, really. He didn’t want Freed or Bickslow poking around. None of this could get back to Mirajane. Not an ounce of it.

Lisanna was standing there, at the foot of the bed, just staring. She didn’t do pensive or alluring as well as her sister, but still, as she nodded over to the forever open window, Laxus wanted to ram a palm into his face.

Of course.

Fucking vampires.

That explained his cold, anyways, as he shivered some in the night air that was being let in.

“You should never lock her door, anyways,” Lisanna told him before her eyes and gaze turned to something more…devious. “Unless, of course, you plan to put it to good use.”

She literally jumped into bed with him and Laxus didn’t know what to do. At all. He’d never had a problem such as this (as he fell more into the Strauss web, he found that was true of most things) and wasn’t sure what to do as the woman literally moved to grab his face and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Lisanna.” He turned his head when she tried to kiss him. “Kid. What are you doing? Me and your sister-”

“Mira can’t have everything. And I’m not a kid.”

“Okay, okay, you’re not a kid, but fuck, we can’t-”

“Why not? Huh?” She was still holding onto his face and Laxus didn’t know how petrified his face looked in that moment, but all of him was feeling it. Lisanna had clearly lost it and either she was going to fucking have her way with him (super nope) or she was going to fucking kill him, he just knew it. All that month of figuring things out with Mirajane had just be some sort of cosmic gift. Here, you can dabble in your darkest of fantasies before they’re ripped from you. Just like your jugular will be, in your bitter final moments.

It felt fitting, to have that happen. You fuck a vampire, you get fucked up by a vampire.

Yeah, it was hard not to find justice in this outcome.

“It’s because of her isn’t it. My sister. You’re in love with my sister, aren’t you?”

“W-Well, I don’t use labels and-”

She growled some, Lisanna did, and her nails felt like claws as, in the moonlight, he was forced to stare into her eyes.

“Mirajane treats me like a fucking child and I’m not. I can do whatever I want.”

“Look, I fullheartedly support you in this endeavor and all, but I’m not just whatever, okay? Now would you please-”

“You’re going to do as I want, Laxus. I’m just as strong as her. What? You think just because I didn’t turn Bickslow, I can’t turn anyone? I can. I will. If I want you, I’ll have you.”

“Your sister-”

“Isn’t here.”

“Yeah, but… You’re not a kid, Lisanna, fine, yeah, you’re what? A billion years old?” He felt more panic for some reason, in this moment, than he had when he was chained to the chair, all those weeks back. “But to someone like me, you’re still-”

“I was twenty-two when I died. That is not a kid.”

“Yeah, but still. I’m, uh, into, you know, a different kind of-”

“I don’t care what you’re into.” And besides, she seemed to already be over the whole sleeping together thing. No. Now her eyes fell only to his neck. “I’m going to turn you into my slave. My servant. That’ll teach her. I’ll make her favorite little plaything mine and then she’ll know. She’ll- Ow!”

She nails left long, bleeding scratches on his face when Laxus finally found it within himself to shove her away. He could somehow reconcile all the other stuff, but turning him would mean effectively ending his life. Remove any chance at battling back. No.

He would never allow that to happen. Not even through the Mistress.

“Lisanna?” Someone was trying the door then. Freed. “I must gain entry to assure you safety. Please, if you can-”

“Fuck off, Freed,” Laxus growled as he’d merely tossed Lisanna to the side, on the bed. She was hardly hurt, honestly, more surprised, and as that faded from her gaze, he knew he was about to be in for a battle. “Don’t ya gotta follow my command too?”

Nope.

“I will locate a key.”

Shit.

Jumping out of bed as Lisanna tried to pounce on him again, Laxus bashful, at first, to be in only his boxers around what was kind of, fine, okay, his girlfriend’s little sister, but then he remembered why this was the case and, well, embarrassment went out that perpetually open window a long time ago.

“You’ll pay for that.” Lisanna’s voice was low and Laxus considered then that this could have been all over a long time ago if Lisanna would just charm him. She clearly had no interest in the will of him, the flesh, like Mira had proclaimed to, so it made little sense for her not to just go that route.

Unless…

“You’re not as strong as your sister.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am. I-”

“You don’t possess the same powers as her, do you?” He was standing there, defensively, one hand held out in front of him, as if to stop her should she advance further. He wasn’t so certain she couldn’t immediately overpower him though (Bickslow insisted vampires had immense strength) and did this more out of a reflex. A false sense of control. As Lisanna glared from the bed, he almost felt like he had the upper hand. “Mira’s, like, what? You and your brother’s commander? Or something? Is that it? I’ve never even seen the two of you hunt on your own. Mira goes out and hunts for herself and then brings the two of you back small animals to feast on. I’ve seen it. I’ve helped Freed clear the animal traps. You and your brother aren’t powerful and don’t need real, human, blood. Or at least as much blood as she does. Is that it? Or does she keep you powerless that way?”

“You have no idea,” Lisanna told him darkly, “what you’re talking about.”

Well, honestly, she was right. But still, he held fast.

“You can’t do all she can and make you so jealous, doesn’t it?” He felt embolden by distance. “I get it, okay? But fucking me…or eating me…or anything dealing with me, won’t make her take you seriously. It’ll just get me kicked out of her. Or worse. So rebel some other way, alright? That doesn’t involve-”

The sound of a key in the ancient lock stopped them and Laxus glared over at it. Freed though, who merely blinked at them, was not even close to the worst thing behind it though.

“Boss, you fucking snake!”

Bickslow tackled him, full on, to the ground and you know what? Laxus had had a lot of rage recently, since the whole thing began, and yeah, as they began to fight, he let some of it go. He was more powerful than the other man and was beating him handily as Lisanna only sat by yelling at them and Freed seemed uncertain of what directive he should take next.

There was no end in sight, honestly, and Laxus might have killed Bickslow that night, he was so charged up from his nearly two month long ordeal at that part, and you know what? Yeah, Bickslow did share some blame in the whole thing. Yes, he was essentially doing as Laxus, just going along to get along, but fuck if it didn’t feel much more like the other guy was betraying him. Them. The whole human race, honestly.

Being around the darkness for so long had muddled Laxus’ sense of right from wrong and whatever happened that night, he;d more than convinced himself wasn’t his fault. Anything that happened from that point forth wasn’t his fault. He was a pawn filled with freewill, but uncertain how to wield it any longer, and this was just the inevitable outcome.

.

She entered through her window, transforming ins uch a blink of an eye that it would have appeared, were anyone watching something other than Laxus’ pounding his close friend into the ground, as if she came from thin air.

“What,” stopped all motion in the room as she merely stood there, blue eyes not so bright in that moment, “is going on?”

Bickslow was bruised and bloodied, but as Laxus found no words before the woman, the jester did.

“Laxus tried to sleep with Lisanna!”

“The fuck I did.” He got off Bickslow then, eyes dark as he glared over at the youngest Strauss. “She tried to…have her way with me! And then these two burst in-”

“They’re mortals!” Lisanna fell onto the defensive easily. “I can do whatever I wish with them. You don’t get dibs, Mira, on someone you won’t even turn. You-”

“Out.” She really just hit an ungodly octave, the woman did. Breathing harshly through her nose, her eyes fell to Laxus. “Except you.”

Freed had to assist Bickslow in even getting up and he was upset, the other man was, about…about…fuck if Laxus knew, but as Lisanna only sent him a dirty look for some reason, he decided he didn’t care. About any of them.

“Mira,” he tried, but she huffed as the others left, moving passed him and over to her dresser instead. Waiting there was a bottle of her specified brand and, as always, a clean wineglass.

“The only good thing out of the lot of you,” she complained as she poured it for herself, “is Freed.”

“She came onto me. I-”

“If you cannot control them, Laxus, then why should I leave you in charge?”

“Control- She’s a fucking vampire! You’re all fucking vampires! God, why are you all just acting like this is normal shenanigans? It ain’t! Your fucking sister just tried to…to…rape me, fuck, I guess, and then kill me when I didn’t comply. But you’re mad at me?”

She had her back to him and merely took a long sip from her glass before replying, “I’m not mad at anyone. I’m annoyed.”

“I’d really appreciate it, Mira, if you were at least a bit mad at your sister over all this.”

“Lisanna is acting out. Lashing out. It’s normal.”

“Stop calling all of this normal. That’s literally what I just said. Are you not listening to me?”

“I expect,” was all he got back in response, “you to handle yourself while I am gone. I do not want to arrive home to messes.”

“I didn’t try and fuck your sister, Mira. She wanted to fuck me. Are you not the least bit concerned about that? You know, I’ve had to adjust a lot, a whole fucking lot, for your family, and you’re yelling at me because no one said that I would have to be fucking both of you. Is that the game now? I have to fuck your sister too? If that’s what you want, Mira, then-”

“Stop yelling.”

“Is no one going to fucking acknowledge how hard I’m working? Constantly? To figure this shit out? Then your sister just throws herself at me, your brother has been sobbing for days, you’ve been gone, Freed is fucking weird, I don’t even get to see Ever, and Bickslow, fucking Bickslow, won’t shut up about his cats and then comes in here and attacks me for what? Huh? For possibly sleeping with someone who he’s not? What kind of sense does that make? And, by the way, your sister clawed the fuck out of my face. Thanks for asking.”

Mira turned to face him then, fully, lowering her drink down to her side. “My sister doesn’t…want you, Laxus. This will pass. She’s just jealous and threatened. She’s putting you in your place. You denied her. It’s done.”

“I don’t feel like it-”

“Hush.”

“She’s fucking-”

“Hush.”

His lips shut and his jaw felt locked as the woman only went to the bedroom door. Calling for Freed once it was opened, she requested a wet rag and stood there until it was presented to her. Laxus was confused, but she merely locked the door once more before coming over to him.

“Wash yourself. You are covered in both your and his blood,” she said, handing it off to the man who accepted it numbly. “And do not come into my chambers again, if I am not present. And do not look so betrayed. I will speak with Lisanna as well.”

The house met with an uneasy silence then and, as he ran the rag over himself, Laxus was aware of the distraction in the woman. It was written all over her face.

“Why did you go away?”

“A meeting.”

“With…what? Like a meeting between…vampires?” His fears (or was it more of a desire) were coming true. “You all get together and what? Discuss your favorite blood type?”

“I see you’re coming off your anger well.”

“Your sister tried to-”

“But she did not.” She brought the cup to her lips once more after adding, “Get in bed, my love.”

He didn’t want to, not really, but had already pressed his luck with one of the siblings that day. There was a serious doubt it would hold true twice.

When he wasn’t joined, Laxus only snorted, staring over at her. “You must have something major going on, in your little abomination world, huh?”

That did it.

Softly, into her cup, the woman giggled, airy and light.

“You,” she informed him simply, “have no idea.”

.

Needless to say, the next morning was awkward for Laxus and Bickslow. The acrobats face was all black and blue and his lip was split and oh, wow, there was something a lot more pressing going on.

After avoiding one another for most of the day (if they were honest with themselves, they both mostly slept til noon anyways), it was nearing the time for the siblings to come out of their cellar when it happened. Bickslow found Laxus sitting under a tree outside, listening to his music. In his arms, once more, he clutched one of his little kittens.

“He’s,” the seith told him and he looked more distraught then he did when he thought the boss was bonin’ Lisanna, “sick.”

Laxus could tell. Part of him felt bad for the little guy, who was breathing shallowly and was probably infected with who knew what, considering the conditions under which he was living. This presented another huge problem, of course, that wouldn’t be addressed in that very moment, but as Laxus tried to figure out how he’d delicately break it to Bickslow that, considering the rinky dink village had no vet, they’d probably have to break the kitten’s neck out of pity, he also realized the other kittens were no doubt infected with the illness as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Lisanna was the first into the house, finding the two men sitting down on the entryway floor, the little kitten laid on a towel there as Bickslow gently stroked at his tummy, hoping to soothe any of his pains.

“We’re, uh, wain’ for ya, is all, I guess,” he whispered softly. “Boss is gonna have to…well… You gotta say goodbye to ‘im, kid.”

Her eyes widened, Lisanna did, and she looked tearful as her brother only came to stare down as well. Laxus didn’t feel too comfortable around the other guy yet and thought about ditching out then, giving Lisanna and Bickslow a moment alone with their kitten (and psyching himself up to, you know, kill a defenseless creature; tall talk from a vampire fucker, but that was different), but just as he was rising to his feet, the muscular man was bending down.

“What- Elfman!” Lisanna hit him as he moved to grab the tiny cat in his massive hands. “What are you- No! Mira! Stop him!”

She was the last in the house, Freed faithfully by her side, and frowned at the scene before her. But it was too late for the cat as her brother was already bringing his fangs down into the beast. Bickslow couldn’t help it. He’d been the best sorta prisioner, sort of hire entertainment possible, but this was just too dark for him.

“What the fuck, bro?” he yelled, but Elfman only stood to his feet after retracting his fangs from the neck of the feline.

In all the commotion of the room, they heard a faint, “Meow.”

“I turned him.” Elfman sniffled some as he moved to set the kitten down. “He’ll, uh, never grow up. He’ll be a baby forever. But he won’t die now, Lisanna.”

She was sill down on her knees, wiping at her eyes, but did blink some.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” she whispered softly to herself as the kitten ran off, no doubt to find it’s siblings. “I’m so stupid.”

“You are not.” Mira was walking on then, Freed following. ‘But we are going to have a conversation. Now.”

“Hey, man, with the kid busy,” Bickslow began as Lisanna groaned some, but followed faithfully after her sister, “Elfman, buddy, pal, you think you could, uh, you know…turn all my other kittens?”

“They’d never grow up,” the other man pointed out. “And they would have to come down to the cellar each morning, with us. And they will only drink-”

“Hey, man, as a single father, I’d love to get rid of them for twelve hours a day.”

With the evening’s big hullabaloo already solved, Laxus felt a bit lost in the shuffle. Instead of seeking out Evergreen in Elfman’s absence (who he imagined would be much like Freed; a useless shell that merely made him sad), he went back outside, to the tree he’d sat beneath before, and put his headphones back in.

But he felt it, all the same, when the evening wind picked up, and Laxus didn’t have to stare up at the specific window to know she was there, watching him, glass in hand. Waiting. Thinking. Lurking.

As he leaned back into the tree, ignoring the urge to to her, up in her room, to be with her, he merely shut his eyes and tried to drift away. Pretend he was back home. In his tiny apartment he and Freed shared, just listening to music and thinking about this strange dream he’d been having lately.

A nightmare, really, it was.

[mlpdestinyverse]

“Two Lies and A Truth”

Upon discovering that his mother Lightning Dust has restarted the cycle of rigorous, brutal flight training with his little sister Summer, Skychaser finds the courage to confront the controlling mare for his sister’s sake.

Feat:  Skychaser

Story and Description Under The Cut!

Skychaser: How long has this been going on...?

-Within the living room of her home, Lightning turns around to find her teenage son standing behind her in the middle of the room. His stance is stiff and his orange eyes are practically blazing as they bore into her matching gaze-

Lightning Dust: -lets out a short mocking laugh- Months upon months of giving me the cold shoulder, and you finally come talk to me? What, is Equestria about to end-

Skychaser: -stomps his hoof and snaps- STOP! HOW LONG have you been training Summer?!

Lightning: -frowns in distaste- Ugh. Well, now I’m glad your father and sister are out right now. You’re causing a senseless scene as usual, boy.

Skychaser: -scowls- Answer. Me.

Lightning: Psh, a few days. But why should it matter? You dropped your training, remember? -mockingly- The whole ‘You’re a jerk and I don’t care about everything you’ve ever done for me’ business? Or did you forget?

-Skychaser’s wing feathers begin to ruffle. He recalls the sight he had caught when he had walked by the back door just hours before; his small sister, flying what was now to him a hellish inescapable trackwhile Lightning coached her below. He can remember freezing in place, cold fear and anxiety striking him as every memory, every occurence of being forced to practice until he was weak and bruised and praying for an escape, struck him all at one. And now, that anxiety is gripping him again-

Skychaser: -trying to control any shake in his voice; whether this shake is out of distress or anger is beyond him- Why are you doing this? Why are you putting herthrough this now? Why do you want to hurt her-

Lightning: -glowers at Sky, now appearing immensely irritated- Excuse me? When you saw her this morning, did she LOOK hurt? No. She was flying with that sunny little smile of hers on her face, because unlike you, apparently SHE has the passion and strength for flying. More than you ever had. -Huffs- Besides, she kept saying for years that she wanted to be an expert flier. A Wonderbolt, even! -places her hooves on her chest with a “kind” smile- I’m just trying to support her dream like a good mom.

Skychaser: -feels the pent up boiling ball of anger within him flare- “GOOD MOM” MY ASS, you’re exploiting it and you fuckin’ know it!

Lightning: ...hm. You know some pretty big words for a kid who’s fucking up his grades.

Skychaser: -and YOU gave her the Wonderbolts idea-

Lightning: Actually, her admiration of YOU gave her the idea. You may be a, well, disappointing ungrateful dropout, but it turns out your training wasn’t a complete waste of time. It helped me realize what little Sunny’s true destiny is...turns out you were just some trial and error I had to put up with to point me towards our real future pride~ -hums thoughtfully- And it helped me figure out a training method that’ll fulfil her dream and keep her happy.

Skychaser: -shakes head, his gaze icy- No...all you really want is for her to obediently live your old dream. Just like me.

Lightning: Psh. If we share the same dream, what’s the problem with giving her a little push?

Skychaser: -forces down his anxieties and scowls- Because I know you don’t really care about what she wants. YOU only want your own gratification. And after years of enduring your abuse, I know you’ll do and say anything to get what you want. Push her pass her limit, manipulate her feelings to follow your plan. Anything.

Lightning: -sneers- Wow, another big word... I was right. You’re a failure because you just refuse to try hard enough for anything, huh? No wonder you turned out this way. Nasty little brat that you are, ALWAYS overreacting and saying whatever shit you want to say.

Skychaser: -knows that she’s just trying to get a rise out of him- I know how you really are...and I won’t let my sister suffer because of you.

Lightning: -lets out a loud, empty laugh- SUFFER? Are you serious, Sky? Just how dramatic are you??

Skychaser: -turns away from her and begins his trek towards the stairs-

Lightning: What, going back to ignoring me?? I mean what, are you going to go tattle on me like a little boy, crying about how ”abusive” and absolutely mean his mommy is??

-Skychaser grits his teeth, but bears it and continues towards the steps. For a few hoofsteps he realizes his mom has gone quiet. A small moment of relief. Within his head he’s already forming the different things he can explain to Summer, the many ways he can discourage her from accepting Lightning’s training. The things he had kept to himself for years, unwilling to scare or confuse the young blissful filly. But now she was old enough. And now that the situation has changed, he couldn’t risk letting his mother hurt Summer too. No. He would never allow his sister to endure that pain. But just as he’s about to set a hoof on the first step, a single spoken sentence cuts through the air and straight into his chest, like a cold icicle stabbing through him-

Lightning: She’ll hate you, you know.

Skychaser: ….-struggles to keep going. As much as he wants to run away from Lightning’s mouth, he finds himself faltering. Faltering, until he simply places his hoof down and looks over his shoulder at her. Without him knowing, a flicker of hesitation crosses his face- ...what?

Lightning: -eerily calm, but with a sharp, knowing look in her eyes. She motions around her with her wings- We were all perfectly happy before you decided to force your pointless rebellious attitude here. You’ve done nothing but worry your sister, even with your weak attempts at saying ‘everything is fine’. Because it’s not fine. She’s not an idiot, Sky, she knows something is wrong with you.

So imagine, being brushed off and kept in the dark. But the moment she decides to do something for herself, and she takes up the training she’s been dreaming of, her dear distant big brother suddenly explodes and makes some extreme and exaggerated claims about her own family. “Why is he talking about this now? What took him so long? Why is he making such awful accusations?” Can you imagine what that’d look like?

Sky: -slowly shakes head- I...no, that’s-

Lightning: Summer FINALLY gets to have her mom’s undivided attention, and she’s happy and getting what she needs to achieve her little dream. And you want to take that away without a second of hesitation, Sky? I mean, what will you really gain from throwing all of your drama into her face? Her losing her spark and being filled with bitter hatred like you? Her appreciation? You really want to force that sweet little girl to choose sides and destroy her happy family and dream for that? Even I didn’t think you could be that selfish. But in that case...wouldn’t you be the one hurting her the most?

Sky: -feels a violent tremor go through him, his thoughts crashing and jumbling together- No, s-stop-

Lightning: You’ve seen her Sky! I’ve been taking care of her just fine and she’s never been more excited! So if you’re going to keep playing your stubborn game of teenage rebellion, then leave your poor sister out of it. She might fall for your little tantrum at first, but once she realizes how dramatic and miserable you really are? It won’t take her long to realize you’re not worth breaking our family apart over. If not that, then well, you’ll be forcing a little girl to carry your burdens. Who knows if she’ll forgive you for destroying her joyful world.

-Sky goes silent, and with satisfaction, Lightning can see that his gaze is unfocused and his shoulders are trembling, as if his very thoughts are consuming him-

Lightning: -casually shrugs, turning her back to him- But you can go ahead and try if you want, Sky. I’m just not sure if losing her love and respect is that worth it. So why not just let her be happy? After all...she’s just a kid.

Sky: -with rigid legs and a racing mind, he feels denial and fear wash over him- You’re wrong. You’re. Wrong.

-Sky turns away and rushes up the steps. He doesn’t want to think about Lightning’s words. He doesn’t want to see any truth in the cruel nonsense she has spouted. But despite his denial, a seed of doubt has rooted itself within his mind. And with full awareness of the effectiveness of her words on her weak-willed son, Lightning simply releases a sigh of relief.

As long as she plays things right, that ungracious colt could never ruin her and Summer’s goal. And she certainly was not going to forget what he did, disrespecting her and throwing away years of her effort. Whether he chooses to get in her way or not doesn’t matter. He’s going to ultimately feel the consequences. She’d make sure of it.-

The description of this one is long, but consider it an extension to the previous piece “Rift”, which you can refer back to. This story takes place a year or two before Rift, when Summer first started her training with Lightning.

Lightning’s words overtook Sky’s mind and emotions, filling him with paranoia and confusion. As expected from someone going through emotional abuse, he began to question if he really was overreacting. Maybe he was just weaker than his sister. But one glance at his mom’s smug face and her sugar-coated words towards Summer, along with her not-so-subtle attempts at drawing Summer away from Sky’s “influence” every chance she could, reminded him that no; his mom was just as manipulative and ambitious as he knew. He could see through her act. She didn’t care about bonding or letting Summer reach her own goals. No, she wanted to make sure she had a pupil to live out her old Wonderbolt dream. And she wanted her failed ex-pupil to feel her grudge.

Sky was aware of the image Lightning was painting of him - of being some bitter hate-filled rebellious teenager - whenever she was with Summer. And with every argument she and Dumbbell instigated, and every outburst he had in response, he only proved her right in their eyes.

And so, Sky felt so powerless.

He became a mixed bag of pent up frustration and depression and fear. Fear of Lightning’s predictions coming true, if he even dared to mention the truth to Summer. Over and over, he questioned if his sister would be okay, or if he would be ruining her happiness. That is, if he wasn’t already ruining it by being her “troublemaker” of an older brother. And so, all Sky could do as he struggled with his inner turmoil was keep his distance. Not that he had much of a choice, with Lightning keeping Summer away from him.

Sky felt utterly alone. He thought leaving his training would free him, but instead, he was trapped in a loop of arguments and ostracization, a loop of indecisiveness and isolation that kept him away from the one pony who meant the most to him; A punishment Lightning knowingly created to make him pay for wronging her.

Yes, he was trapped. That is...until the day of his disownment.

[mornadest]

Homebrew D&D Campaign: Ohalette's Domain

So this morning I've been in a extremely creative mood, so I decided to write a campaign that I've always had floating about in my brain.

To give a brief overview of what I'm writing:

Setting

The campaign takes place in the Amaraviel galaxy on the planet Vil Gal. Sister planet to Urelith, sharing one moon: Hebriniel.

Story takes place in the Dridith Empire. A place Where unrest lives, there's talks of an impeding fall of the Empire and it's Embasy Alience as recently, most districts are at constant battle or disputes with each other and themselves. An empire where crime, desease, poverty and foul creatures roam rampant.

Basic Story

Two mysterious and powerful Drow brothers, named Ohalette and Layorac, appeared about 10 years ago which local legend attributes to how everything fell apart so fast in the Empire.

Very few had come in contact with the Drow and lived, they state that these mysterious beings are gods, able to bend time itself to their will.

Whispers in the Goldwald district told of a name for these beings. Chronomancers? Gods Of Time? Nobody knows, all they know is that monstrous creatures have started appearing all over the Empire.

About 3 years ago, survival rates of these encounters rose briefly. Survivals told of a war between the two brothers that devastated local lands. Of how Layorac had fallen for a mortal being and had become soft, no longer wishing for destruction and death to be attributed to his name.

Enraged, Ohalette killed his brothers lover. A vicious battle ending in the dissapearence of said brother, Layorac ensued. Ohalette, victorious, is said to be still reigning his terror over the lands. Some folk believe Layorac is dead, most believe him to be in hiding, plotting to kill his brother.

General Devashus, under rule of King Asarker of the Goldwald district and The Dridith Embasy has started hiring adventurers to clear out invading monsters but more importantly, find Layorac. Asking for them to win his trust and finally find a way to defeat Ohalette and bring peace to the Dridith Empire, before it collapses into war.

Story will either start at the Embasy Alience halls where the party will be hired or around the Goldwald district.

Finding Layorac

As the party start clearing out towns of monstrosity after monstrosity/exploring different towns in the Goldwald district they will eventually be given enough details in whispers or NPC interactions to find where Layorac is in hiding*

*(Note DM will get to choose which town or where in Goldwald this Drow is hiding)

Once Layorac has been found the party will find out there is a certain way to defeat Ohalette, and they must traverse each and every district in a certain order. Collecting everything they need to defeat him and levelling up enough to face him but Layorac cannot be the one to kill his brother. He will guide the party through the nine districts but will not follow them into the final battle.

Important Subplot:

*To note

The DM may choose to hide this from the party or hint at it through various puzzles/NPC interactions and the likes

---

There are nine (9) districts that make up the Dridith Empire, each representing the circles of hell from The Divine Comedy -Dante's Inferno. Each district corresponds with a circle of hell and enemies and allies vary on which district/circle you are exploring.

This is why Layorac insists to the party that they MUST traverse each district in a certain order. It's the only way to access the plane in which Ohalette can escape to and exist within.

*To note

Although the DM may choose which types of monsters/enemies their party will face, make sure as a DM, you use corresponding monster types for each district.

Districts and Enemies

1. Goldwald

Limbo

Goldwald is the Capital of the Dridithian Empire, home of the Embasy Alience halls and Where the story begins. The town's of Goldwald are often nostalgic and comforting upon first glace yet at closer look, they seem to be TOO familiar. As if you've been here before or atleast, you've been going in circles? Maybe check a map. Or maybe this place doesn't want you to leave

Traversing through Goldwald the types of enemies you will find are ghostlike in nature.

Typically ghosts or undead creatures

2. Greymont

Lust

Greymont is an unruly place where locals welcome strangers a little too warmly. Brothels are the main establishments found and provide the vast majority of Greymonts income and revenue. Known throughout the Empire as the settlement best for merriment. Best to not loose your bard here. They may wish to stay.

A harder look at this place reveals that succubus and incubus type monsters are everywhere terrorising unsuspecting visitors, locals and adventurers

3. Miskwick

Gluttony

Known throughout the Empire as THE place to go for a good meal, Miskwick trade in food and beverage. Their food is said to be so good you wish to eat nothing more that their food forever. Constantly leaving you hungry for more, almost like a craving. Adventurers should be wary of certain establishments who claim their food is divine. If something is too good to believe it may hide a secret. Eating the food at those places will ensure you never want to leave.

The monsters found here, without question, are ever hungry and almost terrifyingly gluttonous maybe even, dare say it... gelatinous.

4. Shadehaven

Greed

Shadehaven is a rather unwelcomingly dull place to traverse. Locals are untrustworthy of strangers and trading with locals can sometimes prove, challenging to say the least. Willing to buy and horde items from eager adventurers but unwilling to sell, it could be said that these parts are full of greedy and ungrateful folk. It may just be the monstrous company they seem to keep.

Whispers and tall tales of hoarding monsters are rampant here. The odd goblin den Maybe? Or something a bit..larger and with wings. Does anyone maybe speak dragonic?

5. Aelmoor

Anger

Travellers should beware when traversing through Aelmoor, this is where the first rumours of impeding Empire collapse and war began. Political unrest seems to be the norm in these parts. Many unhappy that the embassy fails to protect them. In fact, adventurers having always being sent around and killed in their district is just not fair. Between the monsters and the countless town riots, a successful party can’t come help soon enough. Providing of course, they prove their worth.

Monsters here seem to be becoming a lot more aggressive in their ambushing, attacking and kidnapping.

6. Esterview

Heresy

Once a peaceful and loving district, Esterview had a reputation of a safe haven for travellers and weary folk alike, know to be a little too superstitious in the past, some may wonder where in the old gods name the many towns religious belief went.

It seems, many folk now seem to be putting their faith into...darker things.

Rumours of cults roaming thee land have spread across the more gods fearing folk around Esterview. They may be in dire need of help.

7. Ibethimel

Violence

Beware, adventuring parties, of this district. Long since fallen into chaos and ruin. Said to be the ground zero of all the original mishap and destruction of The once proud Dridithian Empire.

The poor district had front row seats to the arrival of Ohalette and Layorac and the destruction they caused.

Resentful of any Drow, for good reason!

Things have never been the same in the district since then. The most violent of creatures are found freely wandering most parts of this district. Locals having long given up trying to protect their towns.

8. Orwyn

Fraud

Orwyn was once a very quiet and beloved district frequented by the nicest folk, popular for it's coastal views and warm weather. A tourist trap for sure. That was of course, before the arrival of the monstrous drows and the trouble they brought with. Orwyn was, unfortunetly severely unprepared and unprotected from the attacks. Leaving it a ruined district, a wasteland to date.

Of course, it is still frequented very often...just by a lot more, unsavoury folk. Bandits and thieves now run this district and have made themselves a home for their misdeeds. It’s said they are behind a lot of the unrest in the Empire. Having spies and guilds try and lure out the impending war and collapse of power and wealth.

Of course, it’s safe to say not everyone is who they seem in this district. It may be hard to tell allies from enemies and fair traders from con artists.

I'd have my wits about you in this district if I were you

9. Shadownesse

Treachery

Hey, if you've made it this far then you sure are a tremendous adventurer. You may also have gained enough knowledge, power and items to pull of the greatest heroic feat The Dridithian Empire and maybe even Vil Gal has ever seen! (Or you may die a horrible painful death)

See, Shadownesse is just as the name implies. The district is the darkest place known to Vil Galians and Amaraviels alike. Heck, even those who may or may not be on the Hebriniel moon know that this is not a place you tread lightly. Filled with the darkest and most powerful enemies known across the lands.

This district has become a hotbed for darkness. Some even say this is where Ohalette himself resides, if only to open portals and allow his vile monstrous creatures to enter the plane.

Maybe you should ask Layorac if he knows about it? That is....if you can find him. Swear he was just with your party right? Oh and hey when you do find him...make sure he looks the same...hang on a second.

This district may have just been a trap. Pray to the gods you can defeat Ohalette while you still know how. Pray also that you kill the correct brother and cause of this darkness over the land.

10. The Shadow Planes/Ohalette's Domain

Final end game location:

So you've killed that pesky Drow who seemed...very convincing that you have the wrong brother. I mean, come ON he couldn't possibly think you could be tricked into thinking that HE was actually Layorac and that Ohalette had lead you here.

And you can't possibly be convinced that easily that this phony "layorac" was creating these armies to stop his brother from destroying the Empire from the inside. Nah.

But what does shock your party is that 1. He was super easy to kill (heck yeah..kinda unnerved by the pleading at the end but whatever right?) 2. you all stepped into the portal to get here in this dark abissal plane of existence only to find....Layorac. on a...throne?

Wait that means "Ohalette" must have been right...well, now you must feel stupid right about now.

And well...ready to face the real threat. Yikes.

Goodluck.

Hello everyone who read this/maybe likes it/and whatnot

So this is just a brief overview of this campaign I've created. I am currently working on it and plan to playtest it myself in the form of a d&d podcast where I will DM. If you're interested in that kinda thing, let me know! Heck, I could try and make a thing of it!

Please also feel free to use this as a campaign, just shoot me a message and I can help you with it and help you map out the world and give you all the not mentioned details; such as various NPCs, taverns, shops and important items and knowledge needed in game!

Constructive criticism is also very welcome

Many Thanks! Love Rachael ('thedorktah')

[kirishimahinami]

Fostered Love Chapter 4

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Summary: After talking to her teacher and crush, Fueguchi Hinami decides to take up the extra credit suggestion he had presented. Through it she gets to know :re orphanage and it’s associates - as well as Kirishima Ayato, that from now on shall be her partner in babysitting.

Notes: i first must say, i apologize. not only for the wait, but also for the heartbreak that may come forward soon, hehe.💜 it was a bit hard to decide where to stop but i hope you won’t hate me for that ending, lol. also, i would like to give notice to a fanart i commished for fl, right over here! it’s so gorgeous. please commission nikki, she’s amazing! also chapters are growing to be increasingly longer, lmao. my poor hands may have wrote 1.5 just the last hour and a half. damn. lol.

Chapter Summary:   Ayato and Hinami take the children on a trip to the hospital to meet Hajime. The two of them think one nothing could go too badly. For one it’s right, for the other... it’s not. Meanwhile, Touka gets a surprise visit. (8.2k)

It took a week to convince both Hajime and Touka alike, but somehow Hinami and Ayato reached the miracle they needed and yearned for. Ayato never annoyed his sister as much as he did in the past week, and that in itself was an achievement. Even Ayato would admit he was a prick when he was younger. Though he was much less aggressive than before. It’s progress.

He had to do his best to convince her, promise her he’d be responsible, promise her he won’t let the kids wander off and get lost. She forced him to swear four different times that he’ll make sure all the children will be safe, in different wordings, and that’s after Hinami explained to her how clean the hospital really is, assuring her she and Ayato will not take the kids to anywhere that will put them in risk.

It’s been a while that he’d seen the worrywart side of his sister - unwilling to endanger anything precious to her as she knows what is a loss. When he was younger, she’d worry about the silliest things - about when he had a bit of a fever, barely above the standard temperature, or when she saw him not eating enough, even though she probably force fed him more food than she had ate for an entire week at that time.

In the end of the day, his sister let empathy overtake her much like he did. Hinami had wide, filled with concern eyes and Ayato could almost hear his sister’s heart break as Hinami receded back to dejected, guarded state slowly. The tremble in his sister’s slender fingers were what sealed the deal, as they quickly tightened to a fist. “Fine. As long as you two take care of the kids, I’ll let you.”

Hinami almost immediately hugged Touka, who returned the favor with a soft smile. The palpitations of Touka’s heart was not lost on Hinami, that was pressed closely to her in the embrace. She felt bad, in a way pressuring the kind manager like that. So Hinami did what she could and hugged Touka the way her mother used to hug her, making sure there is no tremor or quake along her body.

Ayato was watching the scene carefully. It seemed like his sister was getting along well with her, that she trusts her. People sometimes tend to be cruel even if unintentionally with their actions. He almost wonders if he was pulling her to the same fate as before, but he dismissed the thought before he could overthink.  

He doesn’t want his sister to get hurt, burnt once again for the mistakes of another. But his sister was right, the girl over here is only a student, asking for help just as they asked hers. If things go off track, he could cut anything in its roots, but for now, these roots might grow to something helpful. He wants to believe that, for his sister. For the orphanage. For himself.

Well, if he will be allowed to let those roots grow. Another week was spent by Hinami trying to convince Hajime it was a good idea. She sent him a lot of messages through it all because of that, updating a few times a day of progress. To him, the kid sounds remarkably brattish from her texts. It’s not that he hadn’t known ungrateful kids, but according to her texts, he already gave her silence treatment and broke things in his room - he was pretty over the top.

Had this kid been the slightest bit older, maybe he would reconsider the entire thing. But he was only eleven, and admittedly, Ayato can’t say he was much nicer at that age. Also, he must be small, being only a preteen. Ayato could probably handle him if he goes haywire. It’ll be okay, he kept thinking to himself.

Being honest, Ayato wasn’t sure how she was going to convince the kid to agree to the idea, but when he had gotten an excited, emoji filled text after a few days, he was surprised and impressed. Despite the kid being stubborn as a bull she somehow managed to weaken his resolve and let them come by.

Ayato sighed before texting a dull ‘okay’ back to her, and shoving his phone to his pants’ pockets. It rang a few more times, probably her complaining about his reaction, but he didn’t bother opening it again. They’ll see each other soon enough at the orphanage - they have to tell the kids themselves after all.

She was certainly happy, but from some reason, Ayato couldn’t help but feel in a somber mood. It’s been a long time since his father left them behind, but the pristine white walls and it’s repelling sterile smell remained strong in his memory. He would walk in there with a confident strut, but his stomach still churned. The day the walked out of the hospital was the day his and Touka’s lives started to fall apart.

He shook his head. That time was one thing; their lives were steady now. As steady as they could be, anyway. It won’t hurt him or anyone to enter a hospital again. Especially not when their volunteer’s father is one of the head doctors. This will probably do them more good than bad, and helping children was what he and Touka did for living, anyway.

He slumped in his walk, a bit lazy in it compared to other days. He felt numb to a degree, but as if he still had to clean his head, get himself away from all the mess of the past. But he had no time already. Soon the kids will already gather around the table back at home, and he knows they will wait for him, saying it’s not dinner otherwise. Touka never let him forget that after he came late that one time without telling her.

Ayato sighed and sped himself up. The orphanage isn’t far away anyway, it’s not like he’d gain so much more time to think anyway. The minute he reached near the house, he could tell there was something going on inside from the the noise the children created.

He entered the door to see Hinami inside, the children crowding her, their eyes shining. She turned around and revealed an ear to ear smile. “The supervising adult is here! Go get him before he’ll change his mind!” She told the kids, who immediately gave out devious smiles and charged towards him.

“WE’RE GOING ON A TRIP!!” Akemi shouted as most of the kids threw themselves on him, causing him to fall down himself and be the base of a very excited children pile. The rest of the kids started saying it happily like a mantra, and Ayato laughed to himself out loud at the entire situation.

Maybe, just maybe - everything will be alright.

She has to hold onto the girls so they won’t scatter around as they passed through the halls of the hospital. They were jittery and excited and they pulled her around, holding onto her skirt or hands, creating a ruckus. She had to quiet them down several times as they basically walked her as if they owned the hospital themselves.

Ayato behind her was laughing, the three boys he handled being a much gentler bunch, walking near him and making sure they were close to him despite their curious eyes wanting to explore much, much more. Hinami wanted to stomp on his foot for making fun of her, but honestly, she’d be laughing too if he was dragged bent to basically half of his height by children.

Finally they reached the pediatric department after a minutes that felt like years for Hinami’s back. She pulled herself away from the girls, straightening and fixing her uniform, smoothing out the wrinkles that were left after the assault the fabric had been through. She didn’t want to look like a mess - everyone on the staff knew her.

“You are done fixing your skirt, brat? We’re waiting for you.” Ayato asked her, teasing, with his stupid shit eating grin. This is exactly why he is still Jerkface in her phone. She was so close to changing it the other day but she regretted it right away when he decided to keep her nickname. Hinami decided to keep his name the same for now, because of it.

She stared at him with dead serious eyes and pursed lips. “Well, I have to fix it, knowing that you are looking.” She talked back to him and watched his expression turning shocked, his mouth gaping. “You boys don’t learn from him, okay?” She told Kyou, Akihiro and Yuki. They seemed confused, but they nodded as Ayato was recovering from her comment.

“You br-”

“Come on, we need to go to Hajime’s room already!” She beamed at them, and skipped away towards one of the only private rooms in this department. It’s not going to be very private right now - eight more people not including doctors are sure to drive Hajime insane, but he promised to act nice after she told him how much she wanted him to meet all of the other kids.

He didn’t particularly liked the idea at first, of course, but it’s not like she expected him to. He was mad that she even returned to the orphanage after what he she told him what happened on her first visit there. But he calmed after she told him how well she was treated later on, at the very least, and although it had taken him a week to agree to them coming over - he did, and even offered her a smile at the same time.

She didn’t care what other people in the hospital said. Even if for the entire world he’s a devil child, unwilling to bend to the reality around him and cold to those around him, for her he was her adorable little brother that she never had. He was good. All he needed was guidance, now that he was thrown so cruelly from the right path, undeservingly so.

It was no wonder he remained so hurt after what happened to him. She barely manage to deal with her mom falling into a coma, she could not imagine how hard it was for him to lose both of his parents, now completely alone in the world. At least, for now. Hinami wanted to make his world more broad, let him see happier pictures than this sad, somber room. She can’t do it on her own - but maybe the kids will help him see a different view to this life.

She opened the door to his room, and he was sitting there on the bed, a book she gave him in his hands. Those hands fall to his lap then as he notices her, and even though it’s just for a second, she can see his eyes crinkle slightly. It disappears as soon as Ayato and the kids walk through the door as well. He lifts his book and hides.

Hinami sighs, but she knows he can’t help it. It could have been much worse, anyway. She walks right next to him, taking the leading steps as the kids and Ayato follow behind her. “Do you like the book, Hajime?” She asks him mundanely, looking at him with knowing eyes as he tries to hide behind his book, obviously not reading.

“...Yes.” Hajime answers shortly, trying to avoid her eyes. She squinted her own eyes at him.

“Then you wouldn’t mind reading it later with the rest here, right? I’m sure they’ll love it too. You are good at reading too! I think it’ll be nice, don’t you think?” She suggests and he averts his eyes to the side again. She knows it’s annoying to him, but at the same time, Hajime had blush dusting his cheeks. He liked being acknowledged, after all.

He put the book away, near him on the bed. “Whatever, maybe later.” He said as he leaned back on his pillow. Hajime looked at Ayato and the children, scanning them with squinted eyes. He was a bit hesitant to even say anything. He doesn’t really understand why Hinami insisted on all of this, or why did he even agree. He had no idea what to say.

“Do you have to have this thing attached to your arm? It looks painful.” Akemi asked, climbing on the stool and sitting on it as she pointed at his IV drip. He was caught off guard, and looked at Hinami, who was nodding at him, probably to explain to her.  He swallowed as the rest of the group came closer to his bed as well.

“Yes. For pain medication and so I won’t get dehydrated. Or that’s what they tell me, at least.” He answered dryly. His IV drip sometimes felt more like a chain of a prisoner, but it doesn’t matter much to them. They wouldn’t care about it anyway.

He was taken aback when the girl took his hand, bringing closer to her. The others were looking at it curiously, examining it. He pulled it back in a shriek. “What are you doing?!” He asked, terrified. She just tilted her head.

“Oh. We brought lego. I wanted to see if your hand is okay.” She answered easily. Hajime raised his brow, but furthered himself away for them. He didn’t like to be touched so easily. Hinami was fine, she did it for him, she hurt with him. But other people touch his hand a lie, take his hand and put him in this hellhole that this hospital. It only hurts in the end.

“Come on! Your name is Hajime-kun, right? I’m Akemi. The girls behind me are Miyu and Momo. The boys are Akihiro, Kyou and Yuki. And this is my nii-chan Ayato!” She pointed to each one of them. Does she think it’s this easy, just telling someone your name and everyone will get along? It’s not easy. He’s never been one to socialize well, but he didn’t appreciate the sudden invasion to his personal space more so as the others came closer. And did she just call him by his given name?

“...Why are you acting so familiar with me?” He replied with a scowl. All of the people in this hospital liked to act as if they knew him so well. He didn’t expect the same damn attitude from kids, a few even looking a bit younger than him. Maybe their smiles weren’t as fake as the adults, but it didn’t matter. In the end they were here because Hinami made them be here - no because they wanted to. He may have trusted her, but not anyone else. There’s always something.

The girl looking at him looked a bit at loss. “What do you mean? We are just talking.” She said, and he gritted his teeth. It also wasn’t lost on him how the so called nii-chan was coming to the front now, his eyes squinted like that at him, watching over. He could hear Hinami sigh. It made his blood boil. They were crossing boundaries and she sighs as she looks at him.

She really does prefer them, doesn’t she.

“Hajime, Akemi-chan is regular speaking like this to other kids from the orphanage…” Hinami pitched in, and his scowl turned to grimace. But is that any excuse, really? And what about the hand thing? Is that excusable too? When his parents were alive, he wasn’t even allowed to make one mistake - even his teeth had been straightened the minute they could fix them. He always had to be perfect.

It was always expected of him - like Hinami told him it was expected of her. So she should understand why he hated it. People that couldn’t care less about them acting so familiar… It just pissed him off. As if that Kamishiro lady on the back of his neck wasn’t enough of a snake trying to fool him into giving away all the money he inherited for a goddamn lung, yapping all the time about how she’d adopt him had she not been so ‘frail’, or about how he would be such a handsome son.

He really didn’t need another group of people doing all of this bullshit act. Even if it was just because Hinami roped them into it.

“Hajime-kun…” Akemi tried to mumble

“Ha-zu-ki-kun.” He corrected, lengthening each syllable. The other kids looked tense as she looked at him with wide eyes. And then they fell into a squint of their own.

“Hajime-kun, I’m familiar with you because I want to be your friend.” She talked back, with a certain edge lacing her voice and causing him to lean away. “Because Hina-chan told us you are nice, and we wanted to come over and talk to you.” She said, leaning in towards him with a frown still, making sure what she was trying to say was clear.

He was about to say something back, but the safety rails of his bed rattled as a hand fell on them. Ayato decided to intervene. “Listen, brat. I know you don’t like this too much. But don’t make your sister a liar, because god knows how much she vouched for you in the last two weeks.” He ended it there.

Don’t make your sister a liar. The bed may have rattled before, but the words themselves echoed in Hajime mind, shaking him up more. He never called Hinami a sister before, but if that’s what it seemed to them they are like, he could only guess she really did talk about him a lot. Like a family member.

He doesn’t understand why she is trying himself sometimes. For everyone in this place he was a lost cause, behavior wise. Only Hinami believed in him, anyway. Only she looked at him with eyes full of hope instead of that same disdain he sees on the doctors faces each and every day passing, weary and tired and of dealing with the same problem child.

Hajime looks at her, and she has a faint, sympathetic smile on. She didn’t like how the situation turned to be. he could tell from how her hands nervously grabbed each other, how close she was to bowing down and apologizing. He didn’t want to make her feel bad, or uncomfortable - it’s the only reason why he agreed to this anyway. He got everything backwards, he realized.

“...Hinami isn’t a liar.” He nearly growls back. He can’t help the anger that resides within him, but he suppresses it. The suggestion itself is maddening to him - she was the only one that had been kind enough to tell him the truth when needed.

Ayato remained unimpressed. An angry, brooding kid wasn’t something he was scared of, no matter how much the preteen tried to intimidate him. “Then you better act like a good kid and make her proud instead.” He tells him, and silence falls on the room. Hajime bites his lips, and Ayato holds his smirk. He certainly won that battle, but being all snarky about it will only piss the kid off.

“...Fine. I’m sorry.” He grits between his teeth. The other children either cheer or break into giggles. Hajime couldn’t tell what happened to the tense atmosphere that dissipated within mere seconds. He was certain that they were all mad. He expression must’ve said it all, because it didn’t take much time for anyone to address it.

“I thought you will take more convincing than that, honestly.” Ayato told him snickering and patting his head, his dark locks messed up more than they had been before. Hajime snapped his head away frowning. The guy was lecturing him just a minute ago! “You really are a good kid.” He adds, and Hajime shuffles away towards Hinami’s side. He doesn’t understand these people.

“You must really adore Hina-chan!” Akemi added in quickly. He contemplated pushing her back to the hospital’s floor. She was seriously annoying - obviously he does. Over the past year he had stayed at this shitty place, she only did well by him, never expecting anything in return. It’s obvious that he would hold her in high regard. And well… that girl doesn’t have to be that obnoxious and straightforward about it.

He scowled again, averting her eyes from the annoying girl. One of the boys in the groups decided it was a good time to interfere. “So… Do you wanna build something?” The boy - Kyou, Hajime remembered - asked as he laid down a box of legos on his bed.

Hajime looked around him. All of the eyes in the room were on him, waiting for him to answer.

“...I guess it works…” He says, and now everyone are much, much more cheery. Hinami pulled down the safety rails so the other children could get closer comfortably. She was smiling. He supposed it wasn’t that bad.

It was empty and quiet today in the orphanage. Touka didn’t like it much. It felt lonely without all the children here with her. To Touka, it was almost absurd to think there would be an actual day without hearing the children whine her name in the request for a hot choco, or to tuck them to bed.

The entire place seemed deserted, only her left behind. It was nearly depressing, but she had to shut down her mind - the kids will be back when the sun will be down, and it’s good for them to go see the hospital. It posed them a possibility to learn if the staff was kind enough, and will allow them to grow more grateful for their good health.

Hinami was also such a good kid. Touka didn’t want disappoint her and tell her she couldn’t take the kids on that small trip. She was so happy thinking about it, Touka didn’t want to ruin it. She can’t really tell what it is, but sometimes, she could see the younger girl let her guard down - and her saddened expression always made Touka’s heart ache.

In the end, it all came down to the fact that Touka was incredibly stressed today as it is. Her gut feeling simply told her something was not right today. The kids would have been wonderful distraction had they been here, but they are not. Nobody was here today but her, and the uncomfortable feeling due to it made her nauseous.

She chalked it all up to her being irrational - she was when the idea to take the kids out was just suggest, it was no wonder it continued when they were on the trip itself. She figured it’ll leave only when she sees they’re back home, Ayato right after them, and maybe even Hinami in tow, dropping by to say hello.

Touka should have known her gut feeling never lies to her. She should’ve stayed inside, she should’ve took a nap, she should’ve gone and hung out with Yoriko or Nishiki the entire day. She shouldn’t have gone outside to take care of the plants out of boredom, she shouldn’t have took her time.

She shouldn’t have seen Kaneki Ken standing near the open gate, his shoulders slumped and his hands in his pockets as he waits for her to notice him. Her heart pounded painfully against her chest as a surge of conflicting emotions hit her right on. On one hand, she wanted to punch his stupid, adoring expression off of his face - he has no right to look at her so adoringly after everything.

On the other hand.. She just wanted to bolt, leave this spot before he makes her melt once again. She grew so strong since she first met him, with his baby face that didn’t suit a fourteen year old at all. She was a stubborn kid with a knack for being rowdy, but even then it didn’t take long until she grew a soft spot for him. It was so easy for him to affect her.

She sincerely doubted it was mutual.

“Touka-chan.” He says, the same way when he used to when he sat near her at her old house after studying with her father, calling her as he promised to do when tutoring time was over. She was afraid this was going to happen, when one day out of nowhere he called her phone ( she should have changed the damned phone number, why did she ever think it was a good idea to insist on keeping it? ) after seven years of not speaking to her, informing her he was now a teacher in Tokyo, that he wanted to talk to her again.

She knew he was around Tokyo. She saw him around, back when Ayato was looking for colleges to apply to. It was around a year back, and she saw him near Kamii where he stood in front of a bunch of kids in uniforms, probably third years in high school looking for colleges themselves. He was probably talking them up about entering Kamii, as she heard from Hinami he’s been there himself.

That day she kept herself holed up in her room. Ayato took care of everything she had to do as she found herself curled up in her bed, trying to handle seeing a man that had gone missing years back carrying on with his life with seemingly no problem at all.

“What are you doing here?” She asked sharply, not looking at him. Despite her need to push him away, out from her life once again, she knew it was better to handle him now. She breathed in and out slowly. It’d make sense they’d see each other, right? His student is helping out here. It’s the only reason he’s here. Nothing else.

“Hinami told me she and Ayato will go to the hospital today with the kids. I.. I wanted to see you again. To talk.” He says. Touka could feel her heart throbbing. Why does he have to play on her heartstrings like this? She was not the one that left. For seven years she had been by herself taking care of her brother and rebuilding her life after everything shattered, and he’s here acting as if nothing happened at all.

Touka had kept avoiding his invitations to go out around together for a reason. It was maddening how much she and her brother had to suffer as orphans to survive, and he, who they considered family at the time, couldn’t even pick up his damned phone as their father was getting thinner and thinner every day. They called him, they called his aunt, they called everywhere they could think in order to find him.

They never got even one call back. It annoys her, to think about those days now. She remembers waiting everyday near her uncle’s phone, sniffing as the sun set and Yomo dragged her back to her futon, a frown plastered on his face as she struggled in his grip. She remembers Ayato looking at her from far away with his scowl, clearly already thinking she’s insane for believing in who he now called  bastard.

He really was. Her father, loving and caring asked everyday how Kaneki was. Touka can’t forgive him for letting her remain without an answer until he died.

As much as Touka wanted to curse at him, she knew better than it - his student was helping around here, and she needed her around. He knew from her constant ‘I can’t meet, I have to take after the kids’ that she was in need of staff, even if admittedly sometimes she just used it as an excuse. Nonetheless, she would have to talk to him in the future for Hinami.

That could be settled on phones though. “I’m busy. Sorry.”  Touka said and headed towards the door quickly. She’d shut the door on him if she needs to. She already proved herself she doesn’t need him. He doesn’t even look like himself, with his stupid white hair dyed so poorly. The roots were starting to show. She wasn’t impressed, if that’s what he was going for.

She felt a hand on her forearm. Her head snapped back and he was staring at her, pleading with his big, grey eyes that grew more and more sorrowful as he kept his gaze. She almost felt bad, but she shook her head and shrugged it off. “What are you doing?!”

“Touka, please I need yo-”

“We needed you too back then.” She shoved him away, entering the orphanage and locking the door behind her.

She can’t trust him.

Ayato was pleasantly surprised from how things worked out at the hospital. Although there was a lot of banter between the children, and the fact he had to stop a fight from occurring when Akemi tried to touch Hajime’s teeth ( “They are abnormally straight!” “My parents were dentists!” ), it seemed like the children mostly get along with the brat.

He wasn’t the friendliest but he worked with them. He really did try his hardest after the quarrel earlier today. He even made a lego forte for Kyou after he had to break it to him he couldn’t build a tower on his hospital bed. And he didn’t even stop when Hinami left the room, so Ayato could really see he’s attempting to be nice.

“Where did she go?” Miyu asked Ayato, her eyes still glued to the door Hinami had shut behind her. To tell the truth, Ayato didn’t really know - Hinami just rushed out as a bespectacled doctor entered the room. He said he just wanted to reaffirm she’s here, but left with no other words necessary. Hinami then excused herself, saying she had remembered something important. Looking at the hour, she even bid her goodbyes early, as she knew they were about to leave.

Ayato gave back an unsure, prolonged ‘uh’. Miyu just seemed confused, and the tiniest bit upset. Well, she was one of the kids that grew attached to Hinami more. He wore an uncomfortable expression on his face, teeth tightened as they were on display and brows up. He didn’t like disappointing the kids, but it’s not like he could pull an Hinami radar out of his ass.

“She went to see her mom.” Hajime intervened, not tearing his eyes away from the lego forte he made earlier, only adding more to it with Kyou. “The doctor with the glasses was her dad. This day, every week, he treats her himself. Hinami always prefers to visit her after.” He explained. The other kids gave a short ‘ah’ as Ayato grew curious. Her mother was a patient the hospital? She said her dad works here, and that she occasionally helps out too, but  nothing about her mom. At least not to him.

Akemi nodded just like all the other children, but plopped her upper body on the hospital bed, only to lift her hands to support her head. “Hajime-kun, how did you meet Hina-chan?” She asked. Hajime flushed red. It made a good contrast against his dark, blue tinted hair. Ayato was a bit intrigued too.

“Why does that matter?” He asked evasively, ignoring her question.

“Because you are sort of mean but you try not to be for her.” She answered back frankly, and he almost croaked, and had to cough for a bit to fix his barely teenage breaking voice. Ayato would’ve laughed, but he didn’t want to stop their banter. Too funny, and possibly could lead to interesting things. “You try to act cuter or something? I think?”

“Shut up!” Hajime nearly screeched. “You think wrong!” He said, now coughing some more.  Ayato was almost concerned. Hinami told him Hajime has a punctured lung, and it was not functioning well. He must be in pain if he’s coughing.

“So tell me how you met!” Akemi pressed a bit more.

“Fine!” He said back, and wiped his mouth with his arm. “Fine, I’ll tell you. Just shut up.”

Akemi looked at him, anticipating. The rest of the kids did too, and Ayato made sure to keep an ear open for the story.

“I met her at the hospital, the day I got into the accident.” He started.

He woke up to an unknown room. An unknown room, and a bunch of people in white uniforms hovering above him. He could barely find it in himself to talk to them - what happened? He doesn’t understand. What are they doing? He didn’t manage to focus on their voices. The beating of his heart was so strong he felt as he could feel the pounding in his ears.

They didn’t even notice he was awake from how weak he was, submissive as they worked on him. He could feel needles stab his body - he hated it, he hated it so much, even when his parents operated on his mouth he hated it! Where are they? They need to make this stop! He managed out a strong enough yelp, so they realize he’s awake.

“Hajime-kun, you are in the hospital, do you remember what happened?” They asked him. He tried to think. Tried so hard. His head was in shambles at the moment, everything just hurt. If it’s a hospital, aren’t they supposed to make this better? He needs painkillers. His dad and mom would never let it happen in their clinic.

He only remembered small glimpses of it all. He remembered him and his parents being in a slippery road. His father drove a bit fast, and he remembered his mother giggling saying that he should slow down. Then he remembers a family van in front of them. He remembers he saw Shio Ihei in it. A kid from his neighborhood. His family was the slightest bit richer than his.

All he remembers from thereon out, was the sound of a big boom, before all his memories faded to black. Hajime suddenly realized what was going on. Tears of distress started falling from his eyes as he kept flailing, trying to see where his parents are. He couldn’t see them anywhere, and he turned even whiter than the wall.

“Hazuki-kun, you are stabilized, but you need to rest! you’ll open your wound if you do this, please calm down!” One of the nurses said. He didn’t want to calm down. He was all alone here, and everything hurt, and he can’t see his parents! He screeched, pushing the staff away from him.

“Where are mom-- and dad?!” He was so choked up but he managed to say it somehow. They tried to set him an IV drip, but he couldn’t care less for that at the moment. He kicked at the hands pressing him down. “W-where?!”

“Ah… You mom and dad are at the ER, they’re being treated right now. It’s okay… They’ll get out, rest, and you all will go home.” The doctor in front of him tells him, but the smile he wears doesn’t reach his eyes, and Hajime only grows more worried. He stops flailing and just cries harder, trembling as the tears fall down his cheeks.

He ignored the world as they put the IV drip on him, and gave him all the painkillers he needed. He needed them, but his pain didn’t leave, only replaced by his emotions that overflew him within seconds. It was as if his whimpers went unnoticed by the entire staff, as if they couldn’t find it in themselves to care. How did he find himself in a room full of people, feeling so lonely? Their indifference made him feel as if he’s a lost cause.

He’d rather just die like this.

Soon, they all started to leave as they finished treating him. The room grew quieter by the moment, and it was maddening. Before the doctor left he told him somebody would come by later to tell him how his parents are doing and watch if he needs extra care. Where is that person? He needs someone here. He can’t breathe, something feels wrong when he does, not enough air. He can’t relax like this - he’s going crazy.

The door to his room opened in a haste, and a girl in a uniform entered the room. What is this person doing here? She’s not a doctor. Is she even allowed to be here? At his state there is hardly any reason for them to allow visitors, much less strangers into his room. But she still perked up as she saw him, from some odd reason. She comes closer, sitting next to his bed on a stool that was brought there earlier.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him. He frowns. Obviously he’s been feeling like crap - he has a punctured lung, and they said he had a concussion earlier. His head took a few tough blows, apparently, and he guessed that’s why he heard the nurse say he’s not alright in the head. He doesn’t really understand them, but he guessed it didn’t matter as he had been on painkillers already, even if it didn’t stop the burn he feels when he tries to breathe.

“Bad.” He doesn’t waste his breath. Hajime’s body feels so weak, but he is forced into moving as he coughs. Coughing hurts. His body is trying to kill him and he could see a few drops of blood on his hand. The doctors warned him about it. Told him to be careful if he starts coughing blood. Tears that rose to his eyes again, now from discomfort, fell. “I-I… want mom and dad.”

The girl in front of him holds her her breath watching him. “Your mom and dad are still in the ER… Their surgeries take much longer, I’m sorry. If I could let you see them sooner, I would... I’m Hinami Fueguchi, I’m the daughter of one of the doctors in this hospital. How about I’ll stay with you until your mom and dad will be able to come?” She smiled sympathetically at him.

He wanted to scream. Will they be able to come at all? How long has he been here by himself? How long can a surgery take? Does this girl even understand what he feels like at the moment? “Do you even know how it is like to wait?” He gritted through his teeth.

Hajime just threw that sentence at her because he was angry. He didn’t really expect the flinch it earned from her, or the way her head fell to look at the floor. “Yes. It’s why they sent me here, Hazuki-kun.” She answered. “I’ve been waiting for my own mother for a bit, already.”

He feels a bit guilty, bringing up the topic, but more than that, he feels at loss. What is quite a bit? Is it a long time? Would he have to wait for them for that long too? He wants back to their arms. Even if it means the scolding when he eats too much sweets, or their perfectionism when it comes to how he should be like. Hajime wails.

She takes his hand in hers. Her hold is tight, and the warmness of her hand is somehow comforting enough that he can reduce his cries to sniffles. As if she took his pain into her, her eyes become glassy too. “Would you let me wait with you?” She asks again, her voice the slightest bit strained.

He holds her hand back. He doesn’t know her. She’s a stranger. But right now, he’s in a strange place, and he doesn’t want to be alone. “Yes.”

He falls asleep not long after.

When morning comes, Hinami is still there on the stool next to his bed, and holding his hand.

It’s seven o’clock and Hinami found herself lingering near her mother’s bed silently. She knew for a fact Ayato and the children left already - she actually heard them passing by, or more correctly, making a ruckus in the hospital around half an hour ago. Banjou came by to tell her how funny it was to see a young adult dragging away three children from Hajime’s room, yelling at them it’s time to go home.

Hinami smiled to herself at the thought. It really was a good idea to bring the kids over here. She could imagine Hajime’s face - probably embarrassed, telling them to leave already. She barely saw him with a smile these days, but she couldn’t help but imagine him with one for this scenario. Hinami already saw glimpses of enjoyment in his eyes as he played today. He may have stayed in bed as always, but she knew this could be a start of a welcomed change, should this become a regular occurence.

She felt pride surge through her. Hinami was glad she could help Hajime, even if it was just by bringing over people he could talk to. If only it was possible with her mother… Hinami sighed. Her mother’s serene features were just the same as she was healthy and lively, but the way her body remained in fixed position, not even a lift of a finger, made her look more like a wax doll rather than her mom.

The heart monitor was the only comfort she was provided with - Hinami liked to imagine that sometimes when it moves and shows the lines that go up and down, it was actually her mother answering her. It may have been the machine, but that idea helped her cope better with the coma. At least the heart monitor answers, even if it’s just an annoying ‘beep’ to anyone else.

Right now, speaking to her mom seemed like a good idea - she had two tiring weeks where she didn’t get to really be with her mother, and it was a source of comfort she very much needed these days. Hinami sat near Ryouko’s bed. She longingly eyed her hand, but unlike Hajime, she knows Ryouko will not hold her hand back. Her hands stay on her knees.

“Hey, Okaa-san.” She greets, a bit hesitantly. She talked to her mother like this before, but the unnatural feeling of it all never goes away. It’s awkward while it’s happening, but she decides it’s worth it as she usually feels better afterwards. “I got my Biology test yesterday. You know, the one I thought I failed? Well, I got full marks.” She told her, sparing a look at the heart monitor, that showed the lines rising high.

Hinami wonders if it meant her mom was happy. “Sorry I didn’t came by ever since I told you..  I just had two tough weeks. But everything is getting better lately, too. Do you remember Hajime kun? That kid I told you we have to adopt when you wake up?” She giggled as she said it. Hajime only calls her Hinami, but she sees him as a little brother. And he didn’t seem to dislike the idea when Ayato called her his sister.

“I convinced him to meet a few of the children I’m seeing at the orphanage today. I think he had fun, Okaa-san. I’m so happy for him… And also, I get along pretty well now with the people in the orphanage. I don’t think Kirishima-kun hates me anymore. Though I’m not sure why he did in the first place.” She kept talking. The lines on the heart monitor rose a little less than before, and Hinami decided it meant ‘go on.’

“Kirishima-san, though, well - I mean his sister, is really nice to me. Maybe she feels kind of bad after what happened with her brother. But it’s fine, everything else is going smoothly.” Another small, short jump on the heart monitor. “Chiasa and Kanna as usual are over the top.. But they’ve been really supportive lately. They took me to an ice cream shop because I was sad. That day ended up being a nice day.” Another short, slow line appears.

“So… Everything is really getting better Okaa-san. I’m really happier lately. Even if Otou-san is not around as much anymore..” Hinami said. The room grew quiet. Hinami looked at the heart monitor, and saw a flat line.

Her heart dropped. “O-Okaa-san? Okaa-san!” Her first response was to reach for her mother, shaking her by her shoulder. Soon enough Hinami realized it’s not going to help - she’s wasting time. Her mother is in danger and she’s wasting time. Hinami ran out of the room, screaming for the nurses outside.

This cannot be happening. The heart monitor isn’t moving at all, it’s been three minutes, why does it not move, why won’t her mother answer?  “Somebody! Please help!” She yells through the hall. On any other circumstance she wouldn’t yell, it’s not allowed, but right now, screw the hospital and its rules.

A couple of nurses she knows rush to her, entering the room. Hinami feels relief showering over her. They could help, they’ll call the doctors. It’s going to be alright, like every emergency case she has ever saw occur. Right?

But the nurses, they don’t move. They are watching her mom withering away, doing nothing. Looking at Hinami with pity reflecting in their eyes and whispering between themselves. Hinami feels the rage welling up inside her. “What the hell are you doing?! Help her! Please!” She screams at them, and they both flinch. But they don’t move.

“Why are you just standing there?!” Hinami, at this point was crying. She could swear she could see her mother’s skin turning into a white, dreadful shade. Hinami’s heart was about to pound out of her chest - if only she could have given those beats to her mother to have.

One of the nurses finally decided to open her mouth. “Hinami-chan, we’re not allowed to-”

“What do you mean, not allowed to?!” She didn’t need to hear the rest. She knows already what they’re about to say. Since when did the hospital decide to give up on her mother? Does her father know about this? There is no way he would agree to this! He threatened to leave the hospital back when she just fell into the coma!

“We were told that her condition is not redeemable, Hinami-chan… She just gets worse… We were told to not do anything, should this happen…” They were told to let her die.

“By who?!” She screams at the top of her lungs.

“By me.” Hinami hears a masculine voice to her left, and her head snaps towards it, right away. Her lips tremble. A man with a white robe and thin, sharply designed eyewear enters the room. Her father enters the room.

He doesn’t spare even one glance at his dying wife.

Hinami wants to fall to the ground, scream, shout and throw a tantrum. She wants to go to her father and tell him he’s an asshole and that she doesn’t want to see him ever again, and she wants to go to her poor mother, and cover her ears as he says he doesn’t want to keep her between the living anymore, knowing that Ryouko could not do it herself. She wanted so much - but her hands feel so tied.

“She’s not going to wake up, Hinami. Stop your tantrum, it’s a hospital. People are sleeping in the rooms nearby.” She can’t believe what she’s hearing. She can barely bring herself to weep. Hinami is frozen in spot as her eyes widen at him. How can he be so calm about this?

Hinami drags her feet to her father, tears still falling down her cheeks, her sniffles sound as pitiful as she is at the moment. “O-Otou-san, please, you are doctor, you can save her! You can save Okaa-san, please!” The fact she even has to beg her father to save her mom was ridiculous to her. Disgustingly ridiculous.

“No.” He says. Hinami whimpers louder, holding onto his white uniform robe. Instead of sadness, anger surges, and she looks up to him, glaring. “It’s your job! What kind of doctor are you when you can’t even help your own family!” She pushes him away she yells, only to lung at him again. Her hands are in small fists, and she hits him across his chest.

“I hate you! I hate you so much! I know you wouldn’t do anything for me, but I didn’t think you’d be that horrible to leave her behind too!” She keeps yelling. The world around her doesn’t matter, all of these rooms are the same anyway. All of these people are the same. Hypocrites. Her mother is gone and it’s because they chose not to save her.

“Hinami-” Her father starts again, holding onto her arm but she cuts him off, pushing it away.

“Don’t touch me.” She growls at him, her voice bitter and strained.

She already knows that he won’t listen to her. That he won’t save her mother. Staying in this humiliating position where even her dad won’t listen to her as people watch them was not something she could bear anymore. She cannot bring herself to look back, Hinami is scared to see what’s lying on the bed behind her.

Not waiting a second longer, she takes off - running away from the room, still crying. And she’s not surprised when she looks back and sees her father is not on her tails.

[blankdblank]

Baker Pt 1

..Smut at the end..

Baker Modern AU Tag - @himoverflowers

Rewritten

…

Hand on the wall you paused in between two rows of books in the library of your law firm you worked mainly on mediation. Your next clients were being led in but you just needed a moment. Hard in one swoop the medication you were on seemed to hit you. A familiarly irritating swell of helplessness for a moment while the world flipped upside down. Quite young you’d graduated with your law degree and not much past mediation you’d managed to settle into with few to take you seriously based upon your age until you attacked. Your older half brothers ran the legal battles while you handled matters behind closed doors and terrified the living hell out of the interns you were given charge of who dared to come unprepared or pretend to be an idiot in lawyer’s clothing. This was your father’s world, Denethor, Judge, heartily accepted as the source of your resolve and drive. While this was your odd choice for a side gig, as there ended up being few tasks to saddle you with monthly, your main passion was given the all clear reluctantly by your father.

Baking. Years you had worked with your best friends Dew Drop, his son Legolas and Bilbo in the half bakery half pie shop that your mothers had worked in and left to you. This was your passion. And while you excelled in Law school it did seem to grant you the backbone to work in this corner of the market as well. Though your family had their doubts steadily you had been gaining their support in your tiny successes along the way. Leading to now. Your father of all people had suggested your business to cater the vow renewal of a fellow judge’s granddaughter and boy were you paying the price for it.

She didn’t seem to be secured on any idea and nearly every idea you flashed her way she shot down without a second thought. This was a test, had to be. Surely your dad wouldn’t send some passive wallflower who would let you design the whole theme and flavor of the event but damnit did it make you want to scream on your way home each night after another answer free meeting with the couple challenging you.

Well, not your home exactly. Your half brother, though full in your hearts, Faramir and his fiancé Eowyn shared an apartment nearby. And while you were facing this ordeal of a medication once again they expressed their wish for you to stay with them instead of at your apartment a good hour away. Here you insisted on only staying three nights a week, when she would be working to keep from imposing too much upon their couple time. This was the dwelling of your other debacle. The neighbors who lived above you.

It all started so innocent, right from the day your brother first moved in the bald headed Dwarf accompanied by the younger raven haired Dwarf. Both of them muscled from head to toe. Always impeccably dressed, incredibly tall and sexy with piercing blue eyes, if it wasn’t for the lack of visitors from your observations and their constant loud moaning and headboards banging from the floor above you, you would have assumed them to be related possibly. All the more unhelpful at the younger one who had definitely caught your eye. And for years now the younger of the two, by your eyes, who drew your eye the most and your confusion as his eyes always seemed to be glued to you, recently more and more glares were thrown your way. Silence mainly had taken up its place as your main language of choice. Yet a helping hand from a returned dropped book from a half open box on their way to the lift you’d just exited and a thankful smile had you hooked. Even despite your best efforts at small talk when you’d randomly bump into each other in the mail room and late night elevator rides you were flooded by your neighbors and forced apart and into silence.

.

Months before you’d been asked to stay here you lived in this tiny fantasy on your random drops into the apartment to help the loving couple situate their apartment ignoring claims of the rather loud amorous evenings in from the duo above between animated arguments that ranged from fruitless to rather amusing over tiny things.

Yet it only took one path out for you to turn daring a try to ask the younger fuller haired Dwarf who passed in another perfectly tailored suit with eyes trailing over your playful dress clad self post birthday party you’d catered. Just a turn and your hope shattered when you spotted the pair in a playful tussle ending for your view with the bald one locking the other in a headlock pressing a kiss to his temple. Deeply you sighed and relented yet another failure turning around to return to your car sighing out in Elvish, “Of course, even he has a boyfriend.”

This wasn’t a crutch in your life, truly you were fine with being alone, your last relationship having been so painfully ended by a coffin returned underneath a flag. Engaged in a sense that your mothers had always planned for you to get married, whether you wanted to or not you did love Celery and now that he was gone the ache didn’t seem to dull at the loss of your best friend who would always lead you to brighter pathways when you felt in a slump. A loss compounded as his mother who you had hoped to be a stand in maternal figure your whole life long blamed you for his death and hadn’t spoken to you since for a second painful loss in one foul swoop. So now you just had to go it alone while your brothers had found families of their own and couldn’t be so devoted to your fragile heart anymore. You’d just have to let your aching heart get a bit more dented in tries to date one day when you gained the courage again to try. For now you supposed a fantasy might be enough to help coax you along until another could possibly catch your eye.

.

Twelve envelopes. “Who the hell wrote me?” you muttered to yourself in Elvish eyeing the odd twelve envelopes with your name on them in the mix of the mail for the couple off at their jobs. In a shake of your head the weight on your feet shifted and right into the shoulder of the bald elder neighbor who looked up from the legal pad in his hand. To the common tongue you switched and sighed out your apology, “Sorry.”

It was his turn to shake his head and he rumbled back, “Not your fault, lost to a rabbit hole myself.”

That had you smirk even through your exhaustion and say, “Well maybe in yours there’s a hint how I got twelve damn letters in magenta envelopes of all things.” That had him chuckle to himself as you strolled on your toes to keep from stumbling over them in a try to walk flat footed towards the lift. A short ride later and down the hall your door was unlocked and locked again behind you. Their mail carelessly was dropped in the mail basket on the counter you passed on the way to your bed that you crawled onto then plopped ungracefully into a heap where you plummeted into a nap until the alarm would sound to take the next round of your pills.

 **

For years now Thorin had kept a close watch over you, the tall brown haired ungrateful Man whose arm you were nearly always draped over, had burned his last will to be friendly with him. Thorin would clench his jaw as his entire body did the same as he watched the tall man throw himself around you as he went behind your back and brought another Woman back to his place each night. The three nights you did spend there the other woman would be gone, ‘the Blonde bouncing tart’ as his Cousin Dwalin referred to her, would still come around and had the nerve to call you her sister, more then enough to make them want to hurl both of them into traffic. Since your first days in the complex when he’d spotted you returning his Nephew’s dropped phone as he helped carry in their things he’d been drawn to you, the stab in his heart started as he saw you curled in the Man’s arms. Silently keeping an eye on him as you were gone after the first sighting of the blonde woman.

How the Man could have chosen that tall thin nearly frail looking Woman over you with your short, slim yet curvy figure that drove him crazy? Even Dwalin, with his string of boy toys, agreed you were nothing to be passed over, especially after seeing your piercing purple eyes, long curly raven hair, and bright smile he’d only witnessed in passing.

Your first time talking to him was when you’d caught him on his way to the elevator passing him back his mail that got placed in the Man’s box by mistake, “These are yours, right?” The moment he turned taking you in entirely as he grabbed them, “Thank you.” Then being broken off as a group of children came out of the elevator breaking you both apart, giving him a small smile before heading into the elevator as he watched you walk away. Each day his regret for not telling you about your, whatever he was, not wishing for the hurtful realization as you’d probably never come back. His luck with women had never been great, mostly being able to stammer out a few words at a time between unwilling glares he could not reign in as his nerves grew, but one day finding a much easier time of speaking with you.

.

“You haven’t been writing your Damsel any letters have you?”

That turned Thorin’s head upon his entrance to the mail room after having been detained in line to park that had Dwalin simply exiting the car to get to the mailbox before the rude couple in the argument that were blocking the cousins’ parking spot while they shouted at one another. “You know I haven’t, you lord over the stamps. Not to mention I would need a name for that.”

Dwalin asked, “Because your Damsel just got twelve magenta enveloped letters.”

That had Thorin look him over again a bit stunned at the coincidence in color, “I haven’t broken into that pack yet I’m still working my way through the forest green.”

“Mhmm,” Dwalin murmured on his way to change out of his constricting suit before his meet up later with his latest weekend lover for a dinner and possibly some cuddling on the couch.

“I have not! You can check for yourself they’re still in the stationary stand where all our letter supplies are meant to go. Which, mind you was your decision to have one place for everything when you would need them, when I know for a fact you just like that stand to impress that new arm candy of yours who works at the stationary store.”

Dwalin scoffed, “You have a room, who knows where you could hide another pack of envelopes.”

“If I did you’d have sniffed them out by now. Besides I can barely get a word out.” For a moment he paused then asked, “Did she seem upset?”

“Not upset, your love notes might put a bounce in her step in the morning.”

Thorin huffed and raised his hands to flop them down again, “What would I even put in a love note that wouldn’t implode what little façade her relationship has left then she’s just gone from the building and blaming me for ruining her life! Taking me shot with it!”

Dwalin freshly changed leaned through the doorway, “So you’ve been drafting letters?”

“I’m not getting into this with you before your date.”

 *

Once again you had been sent like some errand boy down to collect the Man’s mail, slipping in the large mail room quietly as Thorin and his Nephews were speaking in their Native Tongue Khuzdul, sharing their days. Just as Kili had finished his story about watching a man who had spat at somebody after shooting an insult had slammed into a painting rack and gotten covered head to toe in bright pink paint they turned as a muffled giggle came from the corner behind them.

Their eyes widening as they saw you covering your mouth as your cheeks turned pink during your fight to hold in your giggles, glancing over at them as another giggle slipped out and you locked the mail box again collecting the mail as you said in shaky giggle filled Khuzdul, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.” Your giggles bubbling back out as you slipped back out of the room, his heart rising as his Nephews turned back to him saying, “She speaks Khuzdul…?”

Thorin let out a quick smirk as he locked his box again, “It appears she does.” And the three of them headed back up to his apartment as he decided to try and speak to you in only Khuzdul from now on hoping that he would have better luck with speaking to you.

..              

The next day Thorin and Dwalin were in the elevator as they spotted you entering holding a tray with cookies and a large cake with a plastic fork in your hand, tasting it as you entered, slipping through the crowd, resting against the back wall with a squinting look on your face as if searching for some answer. Dwalin smirked as you offered them cookies, both thanking you quietly as they accepted them as you smacked your lips after taking another bite.

Dwalin chewed on the bite he had taken and swallowed asking you in Khuzdul, “You alright?”

You glanced over, “I’m trying to figure out the recipe to this cake. But there’s something I can’t figure out.”

Thorin’s eyebrow raising in slight shock as without thinking you offered him a fork full, timidly leaning in he accepted the mouthful and tasted it as his eyes roamed over the crowded elevator, finally swallowing, “Minty, with…” Glancing at Dwalin, “What did Grandmother always put in her cakes?”

“Rose water.”

Your eyes lit up, “Rose water, that’s it, now I just gotta figure out how much.”

Thorin smirked at you again, “It’s delicious.”

Dwalin, “What do you need the recipe for?”

You spotted Thorin eyeing the cake again, thinking ‘what the hell’, and offered him another bite which he happily accepted again with a wink, a nod making your heart skip and your confusion to bubble up again. “Birthday party, they want this cake, but in blue, and they want the icing to taste like the cookies, but it has to be orange. As to how I’m going to get nougat to turn blue I haven’t figured out yet. Then there’s the yellow Princess hat in cherry flavor.”

Thorin wiped the corner of his mouth after he swallowed, “You bake?”

You nodded, “I have a bakery, the one by the bookstore with that giant Elk outside. Oh, my floor, see you.” Turning again quickly to hand them some more cookies, smiling that you’d managed to get them to speak as you weaved through the small crowded elevator, leaving them both beaming at your pleasant conversation. Both of them trying to balance their schedules so they could sneak a trip to your bakery, but with their own heavy work load it would be near to impossible to do lately.

Once alone in their apartment Thorin shrugged out of his jacket saying, “Don’t say it.”

Dwalin smirked teasing, “Two bites she gave you.” Thorin rolled his eyes on his way to his room, “And don’t think I didn’t see that wink you gave her.”

Thorin rumbled on his way to his closet, “I did no such thing.”

“Then we need to get you in to have that twitch checked. I know your Amad would kill me if I let you drop into convulsions after a clear warning sign like that.” Only making Thorin groan again.

.

A few months later when you were left alone in the apartment below them, Thorin was sure of you being cheated on as you slept, the building was woken by a shrieking fire alarm. Everyone made their way outside through the stairs and met in the parking lot outside, his eyes locking on you in your black tight tank top and bright blue short shorts with matching knee high socks with your converse loosely tied as your curly hair pooled out over your shoulders and partly across your face.

You readjusted your purse on your shoulder as you tried and failed to push your hair out of your face, the brief glance of the pair shirtless in sweats gripping their phones and keys as they spoke leaning against their car making your heart skip causing you to turn and face the other way. Your eyes drooping again having just barely fallen asleep an hour ago after a long shift, leaning against your car feeling yourself start to slip back into sleep, unable to understand the muffled words around you.

The all clear had just been given to go back inside and Thorin’s eyes headed straight to you. Right away noticing the slime ball from the third floor that kept trying to hit on you quietly eyeing you as he crept closer to you, Thorin’s jaw clenched as a low growl escaped from him causing Dwalin to turn and join him in his short walk to protect his drowsy damsel. Alfrid quickly turned and fled when he caught Thorin’s scowling massive frame headed for you, sprinting inside as Dwalin shouted to keep away from you in a broken attempt at speaking the slime ball’s language. Thorin softly stepped closer to you hearing your deep breaths, gently tapping your shoulder as he softly spoke in Khuzdul, “Miss, we can go back in now.” You didn’t react so he wrapped his hand around your shoulder giving it a gentle shake, grabbing you quickly as you started to slide back along your car, both holding you steady as your eyebrows scrunched together and you mumbled something in Elvish that they couldn’t understand. Dwalin let out a quiet grunt before saying, “Well, we should get her inside.”

Thorin nodded as he passed your bag he caught that had fallen towards the ground to Dwalin and he pulled you against his chest. Curling his arm around your back as he lifted your legs, his entire body tingling when you nestled closer against him letting out a soft hum triggering bumps to rise over his skin on their path inside.

On the walk inside Dwalin peeked inside your bag finding some of the Man’s. Found the apartment number and your keys, as they reached the lift Dwalin snuck a quick picture of you asleep against his chest with a smirk as they slipped inside for their turn. Curiously on your floor they stepped out and found the door to your apartment. Timidly they let themselves inside the unlocked and knowingly empty apartment. Backwards from the door they peeked around curious to see where to return you for a good night’s rest. Two beds bolstered the hope of the duo that perhaps this was a sign the relationship was on the outs and space was being given to ready for a split and this was not just a couple who chose different beds to not wake the other partner upon a late/early return home who each deserved a good night’s rest, or in the least a difference of mattress requirements that had to be dealt with. Clearly the one with sheets askew was where you had come from, apparently having shot out of to the alarm that had disturbed the rest that obviously was much required by how deeply you had slipped again while on your feet.

Back on the plushy mattress Thorin lowered you with care not to leave you in an uncomfortable angle anywhere, gently Dwalin unhooked your arms from around Thorin’s back as they fought their smirks. The both took special care to ensure your covers were back in place only to watch your body roll over and nestle around your pillow on your stomach for another stolen picture worthy moment to capture the almost painful level of adorableness they had witnessed. Leaving your bag at the foot of the bed next to your shoes they had removed. With a turn of the lock on the inside of the handle they locked the door as they left to head back to their place with just a note on your phone as evidence about how you had gotten upstairs so you wouldn’t be freaked out, at least hopefully not.

.

You woke back up in your bed again, sitting up unsure of wether the alarm was a dream or not, trying to figure out why you smelled like pine needles. Quickly turning to grab your phone to check the time and finding the note,

“You fell asleep against your car, we carried you back upstairs and locked the door as we left. If you have any questions or need anything, we’re just upstairs in __, Thorin, Dwalin.”

You covered your face as you dropped the note into your lap, mumbling again, “Of course I fell asleep, and it just had to be them.” Kicking your feet against the bed as you groaned quietly before stretching your legs back out again and dropping your hands and checking the time, jumping out of bed, “Shit…”

Hurrying to fix something to eat as you pulled more clothes over your pajamas and tying your shoes as you hopped into the elevator, standing on one leg as you leaned over tying each shoe, with an unnanounced a pair of hands holding you steady as you started to slide. Standing again as you lifted your bag higher on your shoulder again, and turned your head to your helper finding the cousins smirking at you. As the door opened on the bottom floor you quickly said, “Thank you for last night.” Giving them a quick smile as you turned and headed into the lobby and headed to your car as they headed for theirs, with small smiles that you hadn’t freaked out. If they could only read your mind they would know that it was quite the opposite, their shirtless selves being etched into your mind for eternity adding to the sting of their being unavailable to you.

.

When you returned to the apartment early for once, you yet again collected the mail finding a Bridal Magazine making your stomach clench at the memory of the bride from the last wedding you had catered, heading back upstairs and spotting their scowls as they eyed the new addition to the mail in your hands. Curiosity for their mood faded at the painful thought of some lover’s quarrel over a possible ceremony between them was shoved back into its bouncing little sharp edged box and to your door you went and found it unlocked.

Once inside you spotted Faramir and Eowyn lounged together across the loveseat, the pair of them with smiles that spread in sight of you. Eowyn said, “You’re off early. I don’t know why but that makes me a bit frightened.”

That had you chuckle and roll your eyes and go to plop on the couch beside their spot to rest your feet up on the footrest there. “Nothing big, there’s an all male pre-wedding reserved party. Dew Drop said he, Bilbo and Leg could handle it. Bilbo sent me home to sleep.”

Faramir asked, “That selective mutism guy right?” You nodded and pointed at him to wordlessly let him know he’d gotten it right. He nodded and then wet his lips to Eowyn’s nudge of her arm into his side. “Well, Sis, since you’re here early, we wanted to run a notion we had by you. As a sounding board of sorts.”

“Just as long as you don’t ask me anything about cotton candy desserts I’ve just spent an hour doing that for my undecided Bride.”

Faramir, “Well, our jobs are longer than yours,” that had your brow lift up and he said, “longer drive, that is. So we were wondering about your apartment, and if you would accept a trade?”

Eowyn, “Only if you would accept, that is.”

“I mean, sure. Besides you two might actually like schools nearby.” The comment hinting at the possible babies to come and once they were certain you were comfy and nearly on your way to a nap they were off to go and get boxes.

 *

Down in spirals the cousins’ moods worsened as their imaginations raced as the spotted pair of lovers returned with dozens of boxes and daily carload by carload their things were taken down from your apartment. All week in alternations between their boxes up while you brought in carloads of boxes of your own to be brought up. The both of their hearts breaking in the silent spectacle for you in assumption that you had been dumped and he was choosing the blonde as his bride.

.

After work you returned. Thorin’s heart skipped as he turned, to the feel of a hand on his arm, giving you a small smile as he realized it was you, noticing the wallet in your hand and accepting it as you said in Khuzdul, “Your Partner dropped it earlier.”

His mind spiraled at your use of the romantic Partner word in his native tongue, his mind finally clicked into place as he understood what you had thought of them all this time, managing to say, “He’s not my..” Up he looked to see you in the elevator as the doors closed eyeing the weightlifter from your floor shielding you from Alfrid’s view, his face sinking back into a scowl as he waited for the elevator again, heading home himself.

He was stretched out on the couch as Dwalin entered tossing his coat on the chair by the door with a huff, turning to see his Cousin lifting his wallet beside his head, letting out a relieved sigh, “Where’d you find it?”

“Damsel did.” Turning to his Cousin as he grabbed it, showing his scowl, “Her exact words, ‘Your Partner dropped it earlier’.” Jerking out of his suit jacket as Dwalin dropped into the seat beside him.

“Nothing a small conversation can’t repair, she is our full time neighbor now.” Patting his irritated cousin on the back as he let out a low grumble resembling a growl as he rubbed his face.

.

Your last month had been increasingly hellish between this new monster of a bride you were working with and the growing glares coupled with the sympathetic ones after they had seen your brother moving out, somehow your being alone had brought you into their sympathetic glances. And you noticed both of them trying to get closer to you, as if trying to tell you something, exhausted to the point where it really wasn’t the top of your list to uncover as you came home and collapsed nearly every day.

But tonight was different, you needed sleep, and no matter how amazing their sex was you could not take another sleepless night before having to deal with that woman again. Without thinking, and only in your tank top knee high socks and panties you stormed upstairs, grabbing your keys and locking the door behind you, making your way to the elevator and following the loud moans to their door on the floor above you.

After a few moments of pounding on the door you heard the moans continuing through a round of cussing. Being one of the only three doors on this floor you guessed their apartment to be massive compared to yours. Snapping out of that thought as the locks quickly unlatched, making your fist stop pounding on their door just as it swung open revealing the younger of the two shirtless in only his pajama bottoms with a fiery scowl until he saw you.

His face relaxed into something close to a smile as his eyes slid over you hungrily, taking in a quick breath as you pushed past him through the apartment finding the other in bed with a surprisingly larger man than him, the larger on his knees before the other being taken from behind. The both looked over at you as you swung the door open and walked to the edge of the bed.  One mumbled a “What’re…” as you slid your keys into your teeth, gripped the bed frame held up by small white wheels and jerked it away from the wall pulling the bed to the center of the room then turning and walking out heard a series of impressed comments on your strength. Upon the turn you saw the other cousin standing in the doorway eyeing you with an impressed smirk ignoring the mouthed comments his cousin had sent his way about you.

You brushed past him, pulling your keys back into your hand saying to yourself, “Honestly if you’re going to be having sex like that just rip the damn headboard off.”

He chuckled as he followed you after closing the door to let them get back to it, “Sorry about my Cousin Dwalin, I’ll make sure he gets a better bed.”

You turned in the still open doorway to the hall and pointed back to the door you’d just exited, “Cousin?”

He chuckled again as he moved closer to you, “Yes, I tried to correct you before, but we got swarmed again.”

You quickly turned again as his eyes slid over you again, and you mumbled, “Perfect, just perfect…”

You found your way back to the elevator while you heard him grab his keys and quickly lock his door sliding to your side as you hit the button.

“So I know this is a bit sudden after your ex just moved out and all but I was hoping I could get your number?” Giving you somewhat of a timid smile.

Your eyebrows pressing together in confusion, “My Ex?” You let out a quick giggle, “I’ve never even been on a date.”

His eyebrows now pressing together as the door opened, “Then who just moved out of your place?”

You stepped inside and turned to face him after pressing the button for your floor,  crossing your arms in the cold elevator, “My brother.”

“You..” His face dropped in shock and he slid between the closing doors next to you, “Your brother?”

You nodded then stumbled into his chest as the power went out and the elevator stopped with a loud clang as he instinctively curled his arms around you tightly to protect you from the invisible threat. You glanced up at him after a moment of shock from being so close to his muscular form. The scent of pine needles coming off of his skin, your skin tingled at his arms curled around you again, remembering his lingering scent on you from the fire alarm before, meeting his still piercingly blue eyes in the now dim elevator from the emergency lights, you asked, “You thought I was seeing my brother?”

He smirked down at you, smugly replying, “You though I was screwing my Cousin. I’m Thorin by the way.”

“Jaqi.” Brushing your hair back behind your ear as best you could as his grip had your arms pinned against his chest.

“Is that a yes to getting your number?”

“I suppose, we’d have to get out of here first.”

He chuckled again and you could feel a bulge growing against your thigh as his voice dropped to a low near growl, “I like it here, we rarely get a chance to be alone.” His voice triggered bumps to rise across your skin even as his body seemed to be giving off more heat than before. The contrast had your pulse spike as you felt a heat rising in your core making your voice crack softly as he continued, lowering his mouth near your ear, “Now I can tell you exactly just how badly I’ve wanted to be with you since we moved in.”

The scent of green apples across your skin and hair making him unable to stop his lips as they pressed gently to your shoulder. The soft gasp in response softly triggering a low rumbling chuckle from him as he pressed another closer to your neck, his warm soft lips made your eyes nearly roll back as you closed them. Your head moved to the side out of your control allowing him to keep his trail, slowly making his way to your lips as you felt him pulsing against your leg to the move of his lips against yours.

In the dim elevator time blurred and you eventually found yourself against the wall as he gripped your ass while working his tongue in your mouth. Slowly building up until his fingers were inside you as he kissed your neck, until he ended up on his knees with one of your legs across his back as you arched against the wall. Finally after your last climax and he’d stood to pull you into another heated kiss, then the power came back on. He shielded you from the camera as he helped you fix your clothes back, and grabbed both of your keys as he helped you through the halfway blocked open doors onto his floor before lifting himself through after handing you the keys.

He stood and pulled you in for another kiss as he lifted you and carried you back to his apartment, leading you into his room, staying in bed for hours. Where you slipped from rough back to more passionate and slower paces, both taking turns having control but he made sure that you had at least three climaxes before each time he’d finish.

.

Morning came and you woke up with a throbbing pain between your legs, letting out a soft groan as you lifted off your chest onto your elbows glancing at the small clock on the table next to you, mumbling, “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” As you scrambled to find your things, when found your missing sock was pulled on. In each step groaning quietly as you pulled your panties on over your soreness, unable to find your shirt you grabbed one of his, content at least that he was still sleeping and the shirt was more than long enough to nearly reach your knees. Lastly you found your keys and quietly crept out locking the door behind you.

Almost in flight, taking the stairs to your place where you quickly showered, grabbing your phone as you dried off shouting as you picked up the phone seeing it was the fourth time that Bilbo had called, “JUST STALL HER, I’LL BE THERE IN TEN MINUTES.” The phone was hung up and your body quickly jerked on the rest of your clothes after grabbing your things, locking your door as you left and sprinted down the stairs.

  Pt 2

[feyre-archerons-scrapbook]

Broken Wings & Mended Hearts - Chapter 6

A Nesta x Cassian Fic (Nesta’s POV) Chapter 6/?

Finally! This chapter took quite a while to get right, and I just really hope you all enjoy it!

This story takes place after the events of ACOMAF, and revolves around probably my favourite pairing; Cassian, my beautiful Illyrian warrior, and Nesta, now High Fae herself. 

Previous chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Find me on AO3

“What are you thinking?” Mor asked Rhysand, as she leaned forward and clasped her hands around her knee.

He paused. His eyes - which I only just noticed were violet – scanned every face in the room, lingering on each of us in turn. Then he spoke. “I don’t know how her making has affected her, exactly, but I…” He focused on me, and I felt a tingling down my spine. “I believe, Nesta, that when you swore revenge against the king…” He stopped again, observing my face as the moment came flooding back to me. “I think the cauldron may have picked up on that…it may have listened.”

“In what way?” I probed.

“Well…” Amren rose from her chair and stood beside her High Lord. She clasped her hands together in front of her and continued, her voice softer than I would have expected, “Legend has it that the cauldron takes the essence of the mortal, and uses that to decide how to,” she winced lightly, “How to remake them.”

“Goodness,” Elain whispered.

“It will use your own personality, your own traits, to create a unique Fae version of yourself. So, it would stand to reason that you will be different to, say, myself, or Mor, or even Elain.”

“How might I be…different?” my sister asked. Her eyes were shiny with tears. I imagined that this was all quite overwhelming for her.

Rhysand smiled at her, “We won’t know the depths of your changes until we begin training, but I would be surprised if, for example, you were a warrior. I don’t think that’s in your personality.”

Elain looked a little disheartened at his words. Did she want to be a warrior? I gulped and rested my face on my hand. Cassian walked slowly behind the chairs and squeezed my shoulder. I could sense him gazing at me, as his broken wings cast a comforting shadow over me, but I didn’t move. “So how will the training tell us the cauldron’s effects?”

“It should be relatively straight forward to work out, once we get started,” Azriel chipped in, as he came round to sit next to Mor. She patted his hand and smiled cautiously, which he reciprocated. “As you train and learn, your body and mind will naturally push any capabilities to the front, to aid you in some way.”

“Whatever they may be,” Amren added. “If you have a talent for, say, taking care of things; plants, animals…that kind thing, you might find that making sure others stay alive is engrained in you, like a mission.”

Elain cleared her throat. “Do you mean…healing?”

“Possibly.”

I dropped my hands and surveyed the deep, angry-looking cuts on my palms. I traced a finger along them and felt nothing…how could I not feel anything? My heart thumped in my chest.

“You may have already begun showing signs,” Rhysand said, his eyes fixed on me and his voice bordering on accusatory in my ears. “Now we need to pinpoint what they are, and then harness them.”

It suddenly occurred to me that none of us had mentioned the one person missing from this conversation. “Is this what you did with Feyre? Trained her, coaxed these abilities out of her?”

Mor dropped her head and breathed a sigh. I could sense the strain between the members of this circle. They missed her. A chair beside the High Lord’s was empty, and no one else wanted to sit in it.

“Yes,” Rhysand replied, “But she was different, in that she was made by all seven High Lords, rather than the cauldron…” He stopped, and I wondered if this was the first time he’d thought of his mate this evening. I doubt it, she’s probably all he’s thought about.

Amren continued, “Because of this, her abilities were not decided by the Gods, but rather inherited from each High Lord.”

“So she…she has seven gifts?”

Rhysand puffed his chest out and nodded. “Maybe more.”

I shirked off Cassian’s touch and rose to my feet, “And which one did you give her?”

Rhysand looked confused. “I don’t know why this is relevant to our conversation, but I gave her the power of the Daemati.”

“The what?” I frowned. He scowled at me, and I realised my mood was slipping, again.

“Daemati can walk into another’s mind and…stroll around -”

“Stroll around?” I scoffed. “Can they read it?”

He bobbed his head once. “Yes.”

“My sister can read minds?” Elain gulped.

I glanced down at her, then returned my attention to him. “Can she…can you, damage a mind, as well?”

“If I wanted to.”

I took a step back, my heart suddenly pounding. “Would I know, if you walked into my thoughts?”

“Yes.”

I pulled a face that clearly showed I didn’t believe him. I felt sick. These people could read minds? No wonder I’d always been afraid, I had good reason to be! All that power, all that opportunity to do harm! My eyes searched the room, and I felt my heart thumping against my chest. “So you could just take a quick look around my brain, if you wanted to?”

“Nesta,” Rhysand said lightly, ignoring the question. “How do you feel, right now?”

I glared at him, whilst the eyes of every other person focused on me. “I’m fine,” I said, through gritted teeth.

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“No.” I was.

“You’ve been angry with the world for a long time, Nesta, and now you’re angry and scared of me…of us -”

“Don’t tell me how I feel, Rhysand.” His name fell from my lips with such aggression, I heard Elain gasp.  

“I’m not,” he sighed, “This is important to think about, though, Nesta. There is a strong chance that the cauldron has grasped hold of that anger, that fire within you, and concentrated it.”

I shook my head, biting down on my lower lip. My hands were shaking. “I don’t want it,” I mumbled, “I don’t want my worst qualities to become the entirety of my being.”

“That’s not what’s going happen,” Rhysand responded, “You will learn how to control anything that changes or develops, and you have everything you need here to deal with this.”

I scoffed. “I am a mortal, trapped inside the body of an immortal. I’m heaven knows how far away from my home, my life…I don’t have anything. Meanwhile, as a male born with magic, it’s easy for you to talk.”

“Nesta,” Cassian whispered as he walked towards me, and stopped Rhysand from answering, “You have me…my friendship. I told you we’ll get through this, whatever happens. Your abilities will be incredible.”

He opened his arms ready to pull me into a hug, but I slapped them away and stepped backwards. Tears began to well up in my eyes, but I saw his face, filled with sorrow, as I spoke, “No! I don’t want any of them! I don’t want to be like my sister…I can’t do it! Get them out of me!”

Rhysand spoke infuriatingly softly, his voice full of empathy. “We will help you with your transition. You are not alone in this, Nesta.”

My mouth dropped open, but I couldn’t speak. It felt like I had been overruled by my emotions, like I was an unwilling passenger as my body was consumed with fury. I knew there was no reason for me to suddenly turn on these people, heaven knows, I truly was grateful for their help, but that fiery anger that had bubbled up back in Cassian’s room, that had left me bleeding…it was seeking an outlet, and it had chosen this moment.

Cassian tried once more to move towards me; his hazel eyes so beautiful, so pleading. I wanted to stand still and let him reach for me, I wanted him to pull me into his arms and protect me, from nobody but myself, but I couldn’t do it. My feet slid back, taking me out of his grasp.

“I don’t want to be here.” The words stung my lips. Cassian’s face was ashen.

Mor looked at me like I’d just slapped her across the face, and dropped her head on Azriel’s shoulder, whilst Amren dropped her hands on her hips and gazed up at the ceiling.

Rhysand tipped his head to the side and breathed, “You’re safe here.”

“Am I? Are any of us? Where’s Feyre, right now?” I glared at him, “Hmm? Where is she?” I looked at my sister, flames dancing in my eyes. “Where’s Lucien? They’re in the home of that man-beast, who traded everyone’s safety for a woman who hates him!” My shoulders heaved.

The High Lord of the Night Court sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. I expected him to snap back at me, to scold me for speaking about my sister so flippantly, but he remained composed. “You are expecting everything to happen immediately.” I could tell his patience was wearing thin, of course, and I didn’t blame him one bit. I was exhausted with myself, trapped inside this body that didn’t feel like mine, certainly didn’t look entirely like mine. I had been stolen from my home, made into this…angry thing.

I suddenly realised I’d not laid my head down for real rest since it happened. My heavy eyes expelled a few tears as I looked at Rhysand and stuttered, “I…I need to sleep. I need to get away from this conversation.”

“Very well,” he said. Cassian went to inch forward again, but Amren held out her arm in front of the wounded General and shook her head once.

Our eyes met, and I begged him silently to give me space, whilst staying close. I didn’t want to push him away. He dropped down onto one of the chairs and placed his palms together, as if in prayer, and I could’ve sworn he gave a subtle acknowledgement of my request.

Mor stood up and looked at her High Lord, “I’ll show her to her room.”

“I’ll go too,” Elain said, collecting Lucien’s jacket and walking around the back of the chairs.

Rhysand smiled at her and turned back to me, placing his long beautiful fingers on my arm. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Nesta, but I promise, you will be all right. We will teach you how to control this.”

I nodded half-heartedly and walked past him, Cassian, Amren, and Azriel, who stood up as I went by, offering me a sympathetic smile. Even now, after that display of ungratefulness, of attitude, these people were still willing to offer kindness to me. In that moment, I felt like the last few hours hadn’t happened. The memory of sitting on that kitchen counter top, laughing with Cassian seemed like peering into someone else’s life.

Maybe my Fae ability was to spread misery. It certainly felt like it.

I left the room with the sound of heavy sighs and frantic whispers of Cassian and the others lingering my ears, and headed down a hallway painted in warm earth tones. Elain and Mor walked ahead, talking quietly, whilst I trailed behind, my arms wrapped around myself, trying to keep my emotions at bay.

Where the hell did that come from, Nesta?

I had no idea. It felt like someone had lit a firework and run away before it sparked into ferocious life. Were there two people living inside my taller, slender frame? If Rhysand had told me that was possible, I would’ve believed him, entirely.

As we turned and headed up a wide, black marble staircase, I watched Mor’s blonde, wavy hair sway gently from side to side down her back, the effect hypnotising, and then looked down at my hands again. The bloodied lines seemed to swirl clockwise for a moment. Why hadn’t I felt any pain back there? I touched the cut beneath my left index finger, pressing down hard. Nothing. I took a deep breath and pushed my thumb against another cut.

“I can’t feel pain.”

Mor ground to a halt and spun round to me, her features covered with worry. “What did you say?”

“I…” I lifted my head away from my hands and whispered, “I…I can’t feel any physical pain.”

Both she and Elain stepped right up to me, and my sister grabbed my hand, holding it steady. “Nesta, where did those cuts come from?”

“Me…” I pulled my hand out of her grasp. “I did them by accident, earlier. Why can I not feel anything?”

Mor tried to make her face look as serene as it normally did, but failed miserably. She was worried. “I will look into it, all right? We will find out, I promise.” Her last few words were so rushed, so tacked-on that it left me with no feeling of comfort whatsoever.

She placed a hand on my arm and flicked her head over her shoulder, to where two floor to ceiling black doors stood facing each other. “Go to your rooms, settle in, and I will be back, soon.”

I rolled my lips, and inspected my hand again. This should hurt…shouldn’t it?

Mor moved back a step and rocked on her heels. “Elain, your room is on the left, Nesta’s is on the right. I hope you like them.” She almost winced as she spoke. This should’ve been a good moment, giving us our own spaces, but I’d put a dampener on things.

I didn’t want to seem completely ungrateful, though, so I walked side-by-side with Elain, and smiled at her as best I could, before we both opened the heavy doors to our rooms.

I gasped. It was a beautiful space, there was no denying it. I stepped inside and took everything in; the room was a deep shade of purple, with columns of white marble breaking up the darkness, just like in Cassian’s room; and mirrored glass furniture, decorated with intricate whirls of black and silver made the already vast room feel infinitely larger.

The wrought iron bed – my bed – stood proud in the centre of the room, draped in rich purple velvets. The entire far wall was floor-to-ceiling glass, and, with the plum curtains tied back with black velvet sashes, the twinkling stars of the night sky merged seamlessly with the ceiling of the room, which was covered in a mural of stars. It would be as if I were sleeping outside.

I turned around to find Mor in the doorway, her teeth clenched, waiting for me to tell her I hated it.

“I…I love it,” I whispered.

She released a loud breath and slammed her hand against her chest, giggling, “Oh thank goodness! I was in charge of arranging these rooms for you both, so I’m glad you like it.”

“I do.” I walked over to her, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you will be happy…happier…here, soon. When everything is un…under control.”

We parted, and I smiled as best I could.

Mor’s face suddenly became serious, her smile melting away. “Can you feel anything now?”

I pressed my thumb against a cut on my palm once more, and waited for a sensation; dull, sharp…anything. I shook my head. “No, nothing.”

“I will talk to the others.”

And with that, she gave me one final smile and turned on her heel.

An hour or two later, and I couldn’t sleep. I’d been in Elain’s room since Mor left. When she’d welcomed me in, I was taken aback by how different her room was; it was decorated in warm peach tones, with flowers of various co-ordinated hues sitting in glass vases on every available surface. Whilst my furniture was dark, or mirrored, hers was white and very elaborate. Mor got both rooms just right.

I talked with my sister for a while, both of us sitting on the bed, and was relieved to notice that the jacket had disappeared.

“Where have you put it?” I asked.

She pointed at the armoire opposite her bed. “I hid it in there,” she sighed, “I know you don’t like seeing it.”

“It’s not like that, Elain…I’m just worried that you’re putting so much emphasis on this male you’ve known for all of thirty seconds.”

She tipped her head to one side and looked at me with piercing eyes, “He was kind to me, Nesta,” she said with that beautiful, warm voice, “Far more so than Graysen ever was.”

I shrugged. I didn’t really want to start thinking about him. That Fae-hating thug, who I knew would have no problem slaughtering her if he found out she had been made.

“Well, never mind all of that, anyway,” she said, gently wrapping her fingers around both of my hands and tugging them towards herself. “Tell me about these cuts.”

“I…I was angry,” I whispered with a shrug. Always angry. “Seeing Cassian looking so…so damaged.” I swallowed and lifted my eyes to her, “I wanted to kill that king so badly, for what he’d done, and…I just squeezed them into fists, but -”

“You’d squeezed so tightly you hurt yourself,” Elain interrupted, finishing my thought.

I nodded, rolling my lips, “But I never felt anything.”

My sister leaned back against the headboard and breathed out a long sigh. “Do you think it’s…permanent?”

“I hope not.”

I laid in my new bed; incredibly comfortable, but wide awake. I must’ve gazed upon that starry ceiling for ages, intoxicated by its swirling plumes of green and blue amongst the darkness, the limitlessness of the sky. I rolled onto my side. Candles out in the hallway cast a flickering light under the door, and I found myself staring unblinking at the thin strip of amber, the effect mesmerizing.  

A shifting block of shadow seeped into the light, and I held my breath. Cassian? It must be. Or perhaps Mor, coming back to tell me what she’d found out? Whoever it was, they lingered in front of my door for at least a minute, before a loud, assertive knock filled the air.

I climbed out of bed without a second thought. If it was Cassian, coming to check on me, I would throw the door open and kiss him. I’d wanted to do that for so long, but I felt like my breakdown had knocked us back so many steps. This would be my chance to show him how I truly felt.

Another tap on the door, this time quieter.

“I’m coming,” I said in a loud whisper, as I hurried across the room in my nightgown. Cassian, ever patient.

I grabbed the handle and yanked it down, slowly opening the door just enough to peak around the edge. My eyes widened.

“Hello,” Amren smiled, “I know it’s late, but Mor told me about your problem. May I come in?”

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

17th November >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saturday, Thirty-Second Week in Ordinary Time

    Or

Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, Religious

    Or

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Thirty-Second Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

3 John 5-8

We ought to support such persons, so that we may be co-workers in the truth.

Beloved, you are faithful in all you do for the brothers and sisters, especially for strangers; they have testified to your love before the Church. Please help them in a way worthy of God to continue their journey. For they have set out for the sake of the Name and are accepting nothing from the pagans. Therefore, we ought to support such persons, so that we may be co-workers in the truth.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 112:1-2, 3-4, 5-6

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

or

R/ Alleluia.

Blessed the man who fears the Lord,

who greatly delights in his commands.

His posterity shall be mighty upon the earth;

the upright generation shall be blessed.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

or

R/ Alleluia.

Wealth and riches shall be in his house;

his generosity shall endure forever.

Light shines through the darkness for the upright;

he is gracious and merciful and just.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

or

R/ Alleluia.

Well for the man who is gracious and lends,

who conducts his affairs with justice;

He shall never be moved;

the just one shall be in everlasting remembrance.

R/ Blessed the man who fears the Lord.

or

R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation

cf.  2 Thessalonians 2:14

Alleluia, alleluia.

God has called us through the Gospel,

to possess the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 18:1-8

Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?

Jesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. He said, “There was a judge in a certain town who neither feared God nor respected any human being. And a widow in that town used to come to him and say, ‘Render a just decision for me against my adversary.’ For a long time the judge was unwilling, but eventually he thought, ‘While it is true that I neither fear God nor respect any human being, because this widow keeps bothering me I shall deliver a just decision for her lest she finally come and strike me.’” The Lord said, “Pay attention to what the dishonest judge says. Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night? Will he be slow to answer them? I tell you, he will see to it that justice is done for them speedily. But when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”

The Gospel of the Road

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

——————

Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, Religious

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

1 John 3:14-18

We should lay down our lives for our brothers.

Beloved: We know that we have passed from death to life because we love our brothers. Whoever does not love remains in death. Everyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that anyone who is a murderer does not have eternal life remaining in him. The way we came to know love was that he laid down his life for us; so we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If someone who has worldly means sees a brother in need and refuses him compassion, how can the love of God remain in him? Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

I will bless the Lord at all times;

his praise shall be ever in my mouth.

Let my soul glory in the Lord;

the lowly will hear and be glad.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Glorify the Lord with me,

let us together extol his name.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me

and delivered me from all my fears.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Look to him that you may be radiant with joy,

and your faces may not blush with shame.

When the poor one called out, the Lord heard,

and from all his distress he saved him.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

The angel of the Lord encamps

around those who fear him, and delivers them.

Taste and see how good the Lord is;

blessed the man who takes refuge in him.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Fear the Lord, you his holy ones,

for nought is lacking to those who fear him.

The great grow poor and hungry;

but those who seek the Lord want for no good thing.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Gospel Acclamation

John 13:34

Alleluia, alleluia.

I give you a new commandment:

love one another as I have loved you.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Luke 6:27-38

Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

Jesus said to his disciples: “To you who hear I say, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. To the person who strikes you on one cheek, offer the other one as well, and from the person who takes your cloak, do not withhold even your tunic. Give to everyone who asks of you, and from the one who takes what is yours do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you. For if you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do the same. If you lend money to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, and get back the same amount. But rather, love your enemies and do good to them, and lend expecting nothing back; then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High, for he himself is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as also your Father is merciful.

“Stop judging and you will not be judged. Stop condemning and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven. Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Genesis 3:9-15, 20

I will put enmity between your offspring and the offspring of the woman.

After the man, Adam, had eaten of the tree, the LORD God called to the man and asked him, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden; but I was afraid, because I was naked, so I hid myself.” Then he asked, “Who told you that you were naked? You have eaten, then, from the tree of which I had forbidden you to eat!” The man replied, “The woman whom you put here with me– she gave me fruit from the tree, and so I ate it.” The LORD God then asked the woman, “Why did you do such a thing?” The woman answered, “The serpent tricked me into it, so I ate it.”    Then the LORD God said to the serpent:

“Because you have done this, you shall be banned from all the animals and from all the wild creatures; On your belly shall you crawl,    and dirt shall you eat all the days of your life.I will put enmity between you and the woman,    and between your offspring and hers; He will strike at your head,    while you strike at his heel.”

The man called his wife Eve, because she became the mother of all the living.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

1 Samuel 2:1, 4-5, 6-7, 8abcd

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“My heart exults in the LORD, my horn is exalted in my God. I have swallowed up my enemies; I rejoice in my victory.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“The bows of the mighty are broken, while the tottering gird on strength. The well-fed hire themselves out for bread, while the hungry batten on spoil. The barren wife bears seven sons, while the mother of many languishes.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“The LORD puts to death and gives life; he casts down to the nether world;    he raises up again. The LORD makes poor and makes rich, he humbles, he also exalts.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

“He raises the needy from the dust; from the dung heap he lifts up the poor, To seat them with nobles and make a glorious throne their heritage.”

R/ My heart exults in the Lord, my Savior.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 1:28

Alleluia, alleluia.

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you;

blessed are you among women.

Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Matthew 1:1-16, 18-23

For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her.

The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham became the father of Isaac, Isaac the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers. Judah became the father of Perez and Zerah, whose mother was Tamar. Perez became the father of Hezron, Hezron the father of Ram, Ram the father of Amminadab. Amminadab became the father of Nahshon, Nahshon the father of Salmon, Salmon the father of Boaz, whose mother was Rahab. Boaz became the father of Obed, whose mother was Ruth. Obed became the father of Jesse, Jesse the father of David the king.

David became the father of Solomon, whose mother had been the wife of Uriah. Solomon became the father of Rehoboam, Rehoboam the father of Abijah, Abijah the father of Asaph. Asaph became the father of Jehoshaphat, Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, Joram the father of Uzziah. Uzziah became the father of Jotham, Jotham the father of Ahaz, Ahaz the father of Hezekiah. Hezekiah became the father of Manasseh, Manasseh the father of Amos, Amos the father of Josiah. Josiah became the father of Jechoniah and his brothers at the time of the Babylonian exile.

After the Babylonian exile, Jechoniah became the father of Shealtiel, Shealtiel the father of Zerubbabel, Zerubbabel the father of Abiud. Abiud became the father of Eliakim, Eliakim the father of Azor, Azor the father of Zadok. Zadok became the father of Achim, Achim the father of Eliud, Eliud the father of Eleazar. Eleazar became the father of Matthan, Matthan the father of Jacob, Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary. Of her was born Jesus who is called the Christ.

Now this is how the birth of Jesus Christ came about. When his mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found with child through the Holy Spirit. Joseph her husband, since he was a righteous man, yet unwilling to expose her to shame, decided to divorce her quietly. Such was his intention when, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary your wife into your home. For it is through the Holy Spirit that this child has been conceived in her. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

Behold, the virgin shall be with child and bear a son,

and they shall name him Emmanuel,

which means “God is with us.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[therearemonstersinthedark]

Astronautical Ch 19: Picking Fights with the Past

A Guardians of the Galaxy Fanwork

Pairings: Peter Quill / Gamora (one-sided)

Genre: Adventure, general

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: T to be safe, mild gore

Links: Fanfiction.net || Ao3

Summary: Before the meetup on Traxxon III, the Guardians try to relax and prepare, but some inner turmoil and bad blood make for a rough night.

Author’s Notes: Title is from ‘Sorry About Your Parents’ from Icon For Hire

Chapter 19: Picking Fights with the Past

Peter hung around long enough to give Yondu a very brief version of the events that occurred in the other universe, stopping after the death of Ronan and creation of the Guardians. He didn't see any reason to tell the Ravager captain that his own men had mutinied and that Peter had met his father, who had ultimately lead to Yondu's own death. Yondu didn't ask any questions, and by the time the captain let him go, Peter still wasn't sure if he believed anything he had told him. He didn't have time to worry about that right now, though. They had a little under a half of a cycle left until the designated time.

On his way back to the ship, Cosmo met up with him with a sharp bark.

Brother Peter! The cheerful, heavily accented voice boomed in Peter's head as he was descending the last flight of stairs into the hangar. The dog was waiting for him at the base, tail held high and waving back and forth.

"Hey Cosmo, what's up?" he asked as he made his way to the bay floor.

Cosmo will be accompanying Peter's group during the trade, Cosmo answered, falling into step as they made their way together towards the Milano. Cosmo thinks it would be best if he boarded now, and would like to place a, howyousay, curtain over green woman's mind.

"A curtain?"

Da. Is like... camouflage. In case anyone tries to peer into her mind. Will not hold up to close scrutiny, but will reassure anyone who tries to touch it from a distance.

"Oh. That sounds like a good idea. Thanks man."

Is no problem.

"No really it's... not to sound ungrateful, but, why? Why... all of this? Why are you willing to go so far to help me?"

Cosmo and Peter are brothers. Cosmo tilted his head up at Peter, like he was confused by the question. Are Earth-brothers and Light-brothers and Cosmo knows that this is wrong path. Universe must be returned to correct course, and Cosmo believes Peter can do that.

Peter swallowed thickly. Cosmo's faith in him was both reassuring and terrifying. It also confirmed Nebula's theory about Peter's connection to the Light being responsible for his ability to remember the other universe, which meant that Ego would definitely remember everything that had happened. A fresh wave of guilt ground down on him as he was forced to finally consider the fate of his last unaccounted for teammate. He had no idea what had become of Mantis.

-x-

Peter and Cosmo returned to the Milano together to the sound of arguing.

"That can't be good," Peter grumbled under his breath as he sped up a bit. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now.

In the common room, Gamora and Nebula were standing on either side of the table. Gamora had drawn herself up to her full height with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, while Nebula was leaning forward with her hands on the table.

"I was trying to help you," Gamora was saying as he stepped foot on the ship.

"You were helping yourself!" Nebula shot back. "You never cared about anything else!"

"I kept you alive!"

"YOU DESTROYED ME!" she screamed, slamming her hands on the table with a loud bang.

"I didn't know!" Gamora's face remained stoic, but her voice was raising as she struggled to keep herself under control against her sister's needling. "How are you not getting this?"

"Right. And how convenient! You didn't know, so I guess everything is forgiven! Poor little Gamora has an excuse for everything. Nothing is ever your fault, is it!?"

"HEY!" Peter shouted, jogging up to the table. "What the hell are you guys doing?"

Nebula snapped her head around to shoot him a glare so heated that it actually gave him pause. After noticing his flinch, she seemed to cool off just a bit.

"Forget it," she growled, dragging herself away from the table, and storming towards the flight deck past Drax, who was standing with Groot at the far side of the table, looking ready to break up any physical altercation, but otherwise unwilling to get involved. "Just call me when we're ready for the final jump."

"What the hell happened?" Peter asked in the resulting silence. Drax just offered him a half shrug, his own arms crossed tightly as well, and Groot seemed to be at as much of a loss as Peter was.

"Gamora?" he tried. The green assassin was staring after her sister with a strange look on her face, and her lips pressed tight. She refused to meet his eyes.

Perhaps it would be best to give them some time to cool off. Cosmo trotted up the ramp after Peter, moments before the engines pulled to life and the ramp began to raise. Cosmo needs to discuss placing curtain over mind with Green woman anyways. Is best to do this alone, with no distractions.

It was a not-so subtle dismissal, and the annoyance Peter felt at being ordered around on his own ship paled in comparison to the wave of guilty relief he felt at the letting someone else take over for a bit.

Peter was so worn out, he had a hard time believing it hadn't even been a whole cycle since he had first stepped foot on Knowhere and met Cosmo. It felt more like a week ago now, and he was honestly a little grateful for the excuse to let Cosmo take over and slip into his room for a break.

-x-

In his room, Peter was disappointed to find that, despite his exhaustion, sleep would not come easy. He lay on his mattress for some while, staring at his ceiling and matching his breathing to the soft K-thunk of the engine, and wishing he had his Walkman. At the very least, it would be a comfort to be able to fiddle with it, but he must have left it in the cockpit, because when he pulled open the drawer to look for it, it was gone.

Instead, he carefully rolled the box containing the Awesome Mix Vol 2 in his hands. He had moved it to his room for safe keeping after his ship had been ransacked on the Dark Aster, and it had bounced around with all the other debri during their wild escape. There was a little rip in the corner of his mother's careful wrap job, where it must have struck against the corner of something. Even though he knew what was inside, he hadn't opened it yet.

Now that he had a chance to breath, and the escape of sleep was stubbornly eluding him, he had no choice but to actually deal with the reality of everything he had learned this past cycle. And the reality was bad. It was so bad.

This whole time, he was sure that as long as he got his team back, they could fix the stream and everything would go back to how it was before he woke up here. This was all just going to be some weird dream that he could laugh about over breakfast while he looked into the smiling, safe, friendly, faces of all of his friends. But now he had found out that even if they did pull that off, Thanos could just snap his fingers and this whole nightmare started over again, or worse. How was he supposed to defeat Thanos? The biggest warlord in the known Universe, who took out Xandar and the Nova Corps like it was nothing, and just demolished a three-galaxy stronghold?

The hair on his arms seemed to stand up as the cold realization settled in that he probably wouldn't be going back any time soon. He might not be going back at all. Ever. This broken, shattered, abused version of his friends suddenly became a lot more real. Just snapping his fingers and fixing everything felt so stupid now. He felt stupid. A burning, shameful heat crawled across his cheeks and settled heavily on his chest.

He hadn't been taking this all one hundred percent seriously. He hadn't wanted to, to be honest. Taking things seriously had never really been his strong point. It was just how he dealt with bad things; He laughed. He took his blows, he shook them off, and he hobbled onward. The wounds would heal in time, so what was the use in dwelling on them in the mean time?

'Sometimes you just have to laugh it off,' his mother had told him once, back when he was very little and she still had hair that shimmered like spun gold all around him while she cradled him and his freshly scraped knee in her lap.

'Life is funny sometimes, my little Star-lord,' she had whispered into his hair while tears slipped down her face and dripped onto his head, a receipt for a doctor's visit crumpled and shaking in her hand.

'Smile for me, Peter. No matter what, promise me you'll never stop smiling,' she had begged him with a tattered voice and eyes that couldn't quite seem to focus on where he stood beside her hospital bed.

And he had promised. And in his life, he had broken that promise precisely four times. Once when she had asked for his hand and he had fled in terror, a day that he would regret for the rest of his living days. Once, when he thought he was going to fall to his death on the Dark Aster, and Groot had burned to cinders around him. Once, when he discovered that Ego had been responsible for the loss of Meredith Quill, when Yondu had died in his arms and Peter could do nothing but cling to him and watch as he died. And once, in the engine room of the broken Milano when he had driven Nebula away and had woken up bound and betrayed in the dark.

Logically, Peter knew that his broken promise was not what had led to these terrible moments, but Peter had never been a very logical person. He didn't like not laughing because 'The real world hurts, kiddo,' as Yondu had told him once, and at the time, spitting out blood on the dirty floor of the Eclector while the Ravagers laughed around him, he had thought that truer words had never been spoken.

Peter didn't like not laughing, because when he stopped laughing he made terrible decisions. He ran away. He picked fights with people that were much bigger than him, and his friends and allies paid the price.

In the silence between his laughter, he had watched his loved ones die, and as the weight of this reality settled on him and the silence filled the room, he wondered who he was going to lose this time. The smiling faces of his friends flashed behind his stinging eyes; Groot, who had been locked in the dark and used as a punching bag, Drax, who had been thrown in that pit and left to die, Gamora, who's entire life had been a lie, Rocket, who had never once known freedom, and Mantis... He didn't know what had become of Mantis... He was afraid he'd already lost them all, and just hadn't realized it.

He didn't know how long he had spent stewing in misery and self-pity, and letting his thoughts chase each other in circles, when the door to his room opened. He was more than a bit surprised when Nebula slipped through, closing the door after herself.

"Here," was his only warning before she tossed something at him.

He caught it just before it landed on his chest and was surprised again to find it was his Walkman.

"I fixed it," she said, and Peter pulled himself up into a sitting position to open and close the little plastic door and toggle the on switch. The clear plastic screen still had little fractures tracing through it, but the tape started spinning and the first few notes of 'Come and Get Your Love' played before he shut it back off.

"Thank you," he said, setting it and the Awesome Mix Vol 2 in his lap.

"Your welcome," she said quietly, and moved to leave.

"So... what did you do?"

"What?" she asked, stopping to look back at him.

"Please," he snorted softly. "Rocket pulls this exact same crap. Whenever he does something he feels bad about, he never apologizes outright, but it's like he has to make up for it by fixing things. I finally realized, you do the same thing. Like when he stole the Anulax batteries and blamed himself for Yondu's death, then he called the rest of the Ravagers for the funeral, and slaved over repairing Yondu's arrow for Kraglin. Or when you were upset about the fight on Halfworld so you basically fixed the entire Milano on your own..."

"You're comparing me to a talking woodland creature?" she asked with a flat look.

"That's not how I think of him." Peter replied, and was surprised for a third time when she actually looked chastised and dropped her eyes.

"So..." he said, lifting up the Walkman and wiggling it slightly. "What is this about?"

"Nothing," she said with a defensive tone bleeding into her voice. Her shoulders were pulled tight and she looked like she was still debating just leaving.

Peter stayed quiet, taking a page out of Gamora's playbook when she was trying to draw a confession out of Peter and just letting Nebula work her way through the problem without pushing her, which would undoubtedly end this conversation right away.

"You weren't aware of Gamora's altered mind?" she finally let out, still not looking at him.

"No," he answered with a scrunch of his eyebrows. "How could I have been?"

"But you knew her in your universe, and she had never mentioned it there?"

"I don't think she had it there. She didn't have her parents either. She told me outright that Thanos had murdered them both in front of her. I guess, maybe Thanos thought he could control her better this way."

Nebula crossed her arms tightly and lapsed into another beat of silence.

"But she was still... her?" Nebula asked.

"What do you mean?"

"She was still Thanos's favorite?" She finally looked back up to meet his eyes. "She still... did everything that he ordered her to do, even with a free mind?"

Peter had no clue where she was trying to go with this.

"...She was still a monster?" It was a barely audible whisper, with a desperate crack.

And then something clicked, and Peter thought he might know what she was trying to say here. "Is that was this is all about?" he asked. "You think that because you did all those things with a free mind, it makes you somehow... less than her?"

"I have always been weaker than her." Peter wasn't sure he was actually meant to hear that. She was staring at something a million miles away, and was beginning to resemble a trapped animal again, and Peter realized that whatever he did here, he had to be very careful. He could easily destroy every hard-won scrap of trust that had developed between them with a few misplaced words.

Without taking his eyes from her, he set his Walkman and the wrapped present aside and scooted over to make room on the mattress. When she just curled her lip slightly at that, he sighed and slid off the bed entirely so that he was sitting on the floor with his back against it, and gestured again for her to take a seat. A breath he hadn't realized he was holding slipped out when she dropped her arms to her side and actually sat down on the floor across from him with her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up as though trying not to touch him in the cramped space between his bed and the wall.

"Yes. As far as I know, Gamora was never under any sort of mind control in my universe. And yes, she was still the most feared woman in the galaxies, and Thanos's favorite daughter, yadda yadda. But that doesn't matter. Whatever... method Thanos used doesn't matter. He stole you both when you were children, and forced you to do whatever he wanted. You said you were an infant when you met Gamora. Do you even have any memories of before him?"

Nebula didn't answer, but the way she seemed to crumble inward at the question told him anyways.

"You're not a monster," he continued. Measuring his hushed words carefully in the silent room. "I mean, you're not totally innocent, neither of you are, but I really don't think you're a monster. And neither does Drax, or Groot, or the Ravagers. I think they actually like you more than they like me right now." He tried and failed to keep a small note of jealousy out of that last bit, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I killed them."

"What?"

"In your universe, I killed them. Isn't that what you told Gamora?"

"Wow." Peter let out a long breath. His poor sleep-deprived brain could only take so much. "Okay, look, I'm not going to get into the details because... It's really something I don't want to talk about, but you didn't actually kill anyone, so much as you opened up the door for a mutiny that was a long time coming. A mutiny that, may have ultimately been caused by me. I don't want to start playing the blame game here, because, to be honest, none of us are going to come out of that looking too pretty. I guess it was just easier to say you did it, than to admit the part I played in it. And I really didn't want to do that at the time. I didn't realize it was bothering you this whole time, and for that, I'm really sorry."

Nebula blinked at him, her eyes wide, like she wasn't sure what to do with his apology. This was at least his third time apologizing to her since she'd saved him from the Dark Aster, but he got the feeling it wasn't something that had been a regular occurrence for her growing up.

"You've done some pretty terrible things, I'm not going to deny that, but you're not a bad person, and you're making up for it now. I mean, I'd be dead at least three times over if not for you, and who knows if I'd have been able to even find Drax and Groot. No one here is comparing you to Gamora except yourself, so do us all a big favor and at least try to stop, Okay? You're not the same, and that's fine. We don't need a second Gamora, we need you. Don't get me wrong, I love Gamora. We have this whole... unspoken thing..."

Nebula's brows raised as some of the misery melted away, replaced by what Peter could only call bemused disgust.

"That's funny," Peter laughed. "I think that's the same face she made when I told her that."

"I thought you were trying to say we weren't the same?" she shot back. Her voice was still hushed, but she was beginning to sound like her normal sarcastic self again.

"You're not, but you're definitely siblings," he said with a smile.

Nebula just let out a small snort and a tiny shake of her head, but her lips were pressed together now like she was holding back the start of a smile herself.

"So... are we good?" Peter asked.

"You're not going to tell me why you're so upset?" she asked, looking pointedly at where the Awesome Mix Vol. 2 was set on the stand by his head.

"Are you... asking me how I'm feeling?"

Nebula made a face, like she hadn't even realized what she had done, then stood to leave.

"No, wait!" he called. "I'm sorry. Come back. I actually do need to talk to someone, but it's about... Celestial stuff, and the others don't know about that yet..."

"You haven't told them?" Nebula asked dubiously, but she settled back down.

"No," he sighed. "I will, I just... It's not a conversation I'm looking forward to."

"So what is this about?"

"The thing is... there's one more Guardian," he admitted, staring at his hands.

"Another friend?" There was a note of either annoyance or suspicion in her voice. "Why have you never mentioned them before?"

"Because... She wasn't with us when we took on Ronan, and I had thought that I could make it back and none of this would matter. Remember when I told you my dad's kind of a total asshole? Well, she's kind of with my dad, and when I first got here, I figured she'd be safe there. Safer than any of the rest of us, anyways. It didn't even cross my mind that he might remember everything when no one else seemed to. Then when the dreams started-"

"Dreams?" Nebula interrupted.

"Yeah. I've been having weird dreams about... galaxies, and the Light, and something... there's something out there that always seems to be chasing me, but I can't see it. They started to get more vivid after Halfworld. I started to hear his voice, and I thought he was looking for me, but lately, I'm not so sure..." Peter thought again of that creepy version of Ego with Yondu's teeth that he'd seen in the space outside of Gamora's mind, and Cosmo's warning about other things lurking in the Blind Place. "But we were so close to getting Rocket back, I still thought I could fix this all without having to see that deadbeat again. That sounds so terrible."

"It sounds prudent," Nebula replied. "You were working with the knowledge you had, to take the quickest path to your goal."

Peter leaned forward and rubbed a hand across his face. His forehead was warm to the touch.

"But then you told me your theory about how being a Celestial is why I remembered, and Cosmo confirmed that he remembers, too. This whole time, I've just left her there. If what you said about Thanos is true, too, then I'm not going back any time soon, and we need to go save her before it's too late. If it's not already." Peter hung his head miserably. He had wasted so much time chasing the hope of a quick fix, and that could have cost his newest friend everything. "I've wasted so much time."

"If it makes you feel any better;" Nebula started slowly. "If he did intend to kill her, I'm sure she would have been dead long before you could have possibly made it there, even if you had known."

"That... really doesn't," Peter said, looking up.

Nebula just pulled her brows together in apparent confusion and tipped her head slightly.

"Thanks anyways."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Huh?"

"If you really are intending on taking on a Celestial, then you'll need a plan and you'll need to focus. I suggest you stop dwelling on what you didn't do, and starting thinking about what you can do now. Start with retrieving Rocket and surviving tomorrow." Nebula stood and he got the sense she was done with this for now.

"Thank you, for staying," he said, still a bit surprised she'd actually done it.

"You would have bothered me with it sooner or later," She said, reaching the door. "This was more efficient."

Peter frowned and reached behind himself to grab the pillow from his bed and lob it at her, but she was already gone and it bounced off the closing door harmlessly.

For a while, he just sat on the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees and staring at his pillow. His talk had help him break through the worst of the funk.

Nebula was right; He didn't have a plan to defeat Thanos, not even the start of one, but he didn't need one yet. The only thing he needed right now was to make it through tomorrow, and to get his friend back. If anyone could figure out a way to take down Thanos, Rocket and Nebula could. They were both terrifying on their own. If he could get them working together... who knows what crazy impossibilities they could pull off.

So he would get Rocket back. Then they would go rescue Mantis. He wouldn't consider the possibility that she wasn't there. He couldn't. Then they would do what they had always done; They would protect the Galaxies. Now that the panic had passed, Peter was surprised to find that this changed nothing right now. It changed nothing yet. But if he wanted to make it through this, if he wanted to save his friends in this universe, and if he ever wanted to get back to his, he was going to have to start taking things a lot more seriously.

He could do this. One step at a time, and with his friends at his side. It played like a mantra in his head. He could do this. They weren't dead yet.

-x-

Peter managed to get a few hours of sleep in before he couldn't take it anymore and returned to the common room. The others appeared to be equally antsy, and were seated around the table. Drax and Gamora had mugs of coffee set in front of themselves, and Peter poured one for himself before taking a seat between Gamora and Cosmo.

"Where's Nebula?" he asked, realizing someone was missing again.

"She is monitoring the ship and keeping an eye out for any enemy ships," Drax told him, laying another card down on the table between himself and Groot. Peter thought he recognized this as a game Drax had taught them all to play in his other universe. "We have been taking turns."

"I am Groot."

Peter smiled into his coffee. The likely hood of them being attacked before making it to the point was minimal at best, and the ship was fully capable of handling itself in autopilot. Groot was probably right; She was probably mostly just sleeping up there. That was fine, though, she had hardly had a chance to recover from whatever she'd been doing during their time apart, so she probably needed it.

"How are you doing?" he asked, turning to Gamora, who had been watching Drax and Groot's game with a casual interest.

Her gaze briefly flickered over to him before returning to the game, clearly not impressed by his concern for her.

"Do you want to play?" he tried. "I have another deck around here somewhere."

"Will it put an end to these awkward attempts at conversation?"

"It's your best bet." He grinned, knowing he had won.

"Fine," she said with a wave of her hand, and Peter wasted no time hunting down the spare playing deck.

End