#the theme not fully about autumn

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

bioluminescence | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season one — you thought all bellamy blake wanted was sex and other women, but when you sneak outside of the camp walls at night, bioluminescent plants are not the only shocking discovery you make, and not everyone is happy about it.

warnings: fluff, swearing, jealousy, mention of sexual themes, (L/N) use, roma

pairing: bellamy blake x reader

word count: 4.1k

Sleep was a rare luxury after you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to Earth, especially since you were all crowded in a small camp surrounding the drop ship. Teenage hormones, anger, violence, and trauma were not a great combination for peace. So, it was either crying, fistfights, or the incessant moans of couples who couldn't keep it in their pants for more than five minutes that usually kept you awake at night.

You were certain it was Bellamy Blake and his two model-looking female companions who were often to blame for that last subject. Although to everyone in the camp, it was very obvious that their relationship was solely physical, neither Roma nor Bree seemed to appreciate when other women talked, interacted with, or even sat near him. Clarke was a heavy target because of her co-leadership with Bellamy. And so were you.

You were within the inner circle, the informal 'Earth council'. You were also handy with a rifle and knowledgeable in tracking, so it wasn't exactly surprising whenever Bellamy took you with him on various missions and hunts. Sometimes though, he would bring you with him even if the task wasn't within your skillset—those were the times you were left feeling a little confused.

Nevertheless, a small friendship sprung from it. You weren't best buddies, but you weren't opposed to each other's company either. That was a big no-no to Roma and Bree and they frequently expressed that fact through passive-aggressive tactics.

This night was no different from others. Thankfully, it was the never-ending fistfights that kept you awake instead of other's carnal endeavours. You opened the flap of your tent and stepped out into the crisp air; autumn was definitely approaching. Hugging your jacket closer to your body, you looked around the camp, unsure of where to wait out the commotion. Everywhere was taken, so you decided a brief walk in the woods wouldn't hurt. Well, you hoped it wouldn't. At least if the Grounders killed you, you would finally get some undisturbed rest.

As you made your way over to one of the fence-wall openings, you ran smack-bang into a barely dressed girl with long brown hair. Roma.

"Watch where you're going, bitch," she spat, scrutinising your appearance from top to bottom.

Ignoring her lovely remark, you eyed her jeans and the way her upper half was only covered by a grey sports bra. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not now I'm not." She smirked, eyes flickering to Bellamy's tent.

You grimaced. I so didn't need to know that.

Right on cue, Bellamy emerged from his tent, fully clothed. He scanned the surroundings before his hardened gaze briefly landed on Roma and then settled on you; it was impossible to miss the way his face softened when your eyes met. Strange.

"Jealous?" she asked, regaining your attention.

"Unlikely."

You brushed past her, though she made an effort to forcefully knock your shoulder and spit another curse at you. Classy.

Bellamy took a step toward you. "Hey—"

But you simply moved past him, continuing toward the wall and saying, "A real gem you've got yourself there."

At least Bree was all bark and no bite.

You could hear him sigh as the distance between you both grew.

Truth be told, you were a little jealous. An unfortunate truth but still a truth all the same. You knew you were beginning to feel something deeper for Bellamy and it was becoming difficult listening to other girls brag about their nights with him. Not like you would ever tell him though—he wasn't a relationship type of guy and as far as you could tell, his feelings for you were platonic.

Never mind. You could settle for his friendship... for now.

You had made it outside the camp walls. At first, you planned on circling the fence for a while, but when your eyes caught on something glowing from the opposite side of a tree, you strayed from your path. Rounding the tree's trunk, you found a glowing neon-pink flower; the species of which you were unsure, but it was beautiful. Then, in your peripheral vision, there was something else lighting up your vision, something blue this time. There was another flower just a few trees away.

And again, you walked over to the strange plant, only to find yourself now on a journey that kept leading to more and more glowing flowers the deeper into the woods you trekked. They were almost everywhere and at this point, you were practically running with an excited grin on your face. In the near distance, numerous radiant colours lit up an area covered by a thick cluster of trees. You wove yourself through branches and leaves, pushing your way into the bright section of the woods.

Once you emerged from the trees, amazement morphed into your expression. You had stepped into a small meadow filled with glowing flowers of various colours that covered the forest floor. There were countless species, but they all shared the same mesmerising radiance. Much to your disbelief, there were even electric blue luminous butterflies that concealed the tree trunks and fluttered in the air.

"Bioluminescence," you whispered to yourself.

It was so beautiful, you could have cried.

Maybe you should just leave the camp and build a hut here. It would certainly beat living with the others.

As you moved further into the small clearing, the butterflies flew closer around you. Holding out an arm, one butterfly tentatively circled your hand before landing in your palm. You laughed in amazement, watching as the small creature curiously crawled across your hand and ticked your skin. Okay, that settled it—you were definitely a Disney princess.

The sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling suddenly pulled you from your amazement; it was coming from where you had entered the clearing. You reached down to your belt only to find the knife holster on it empty. Of course, you didn't bring your knife. You had left the camp's safety and didn't even think to bring a weapon. So stupid.

Before you could reprimand yourself any further, a tall figure emerged from the tree line. The tight dark blue shirt was an easy identifier as to who the figure was. And so were those deep brown eyes.

It was Bellamy. "Woah."

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your tensed body relax again.

His gaze swept across the vivid tree-encompassed meadow, sharing the same wonderous expression you once had. The overpowering glow from the butterflies turned his tanned skin a light blue, defining the contours of his face and arm muscles. He sort of looked otherworldly.

"What are you doing out here?" you asked.

The incident before you left camp quickly returned to mind and it was evident in the slight irritation etched on your face. He didn't need to respond for you to realise that he had followed you. Great. His little girlfriends were going to have a field day tomorrow if they saw him come after you.

Bellamy's eyes found yours, taking note of your negative reaction. His steps were cautious as he began walking towards you. "I could ask you the same thing."

He stopped in front of you, peering down through a few stray strands of dark brown hair whilst wearing his infamous lazy smirk. No wonder girls were always fawning over him; he was gorgeous, and he damn well knew it too. Even you were falling into the very same trap. Unlike them, though, it was the moments you shared with him when you were alone that conjured your attraction to him. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you had also learnt that he was surprisingly a decent human being. More than decent actually, despite how he presented himself to others.

He treated you with respect—a lot more than many others had ever done. You had learnt to trust each other, communicate effectively, and work as a team. Sometimes, you would even find yourselves discussing things that you both intended to keep within till the day you died, things that felt too intimate to share with anyone else.

No matter how much you hated it, you couldn't help but develop feelings for him. Even when it seemed he was preoccupied with other women.

Bellamy eyed you, waiting for the snarky retort he knew you were putting together.

You sighed and turned around, crouching on the floor to inspect one of the neon-pink flowers. "Shouldn't you be teaching Roma and Bree gun handling safety in your tent right now?"

That line was dangerously close to sounding like jealousy and you knew it. You bit your tongue because Lord knows you were most likely to expose your feelings for Bellamy through word vomit.

If only you had been facing him to witness the shame washing through his eyes.

"Funny," he said. "But no. I've got more important things to do."

"Like what? Making sure your best hunting partner doesn't get killed by glowing plants?" you joked, glancing over your shoulder to see his reaction.

It wasn't a grin or smirk like you expected. Not even a little chuckle. Instead, he simply stared at you with this intense look in his eye; it was almost sad but also like he was trying to communicate something to you telepathically.

"Something like that," he murmured.

After those words left his mouth, something about the atmosphere shifted. You suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion and his soul-piercing stare was not helping. There wasn't a wide selection of movies on the Ark, but you had watched them all, including all the romance movies. The only thing you could compare Bellamy's gaze to was Mr. Darcy's in Pride and Prejudice. Reluctance. Longing. It was all there. Had you been completely wrong about his feelings for you? Or were you just imagining it?

The likelihood of Bellamy sharing your same feelings seemed impossible, so you chalked it up to your wishful imagination.

You stood back up, facing him but avoiding making eye contact. "Well, I—uh," you stammered. "I'm not going back. Not yet."

"I didn't come here to take you back."

That made your gaze meet his.

Why did you come then, Bellamy? you thought.

He side-stepped you and you turned to see him wandering deeper into the meadow. He began observing each and every beauty and oddity the small sanctuary held, touching the petals of every flower with a delicateness you had never witnessed before. Soon enough, you felt compelled to join him.

The two of you must have spent an hour in that meadow, inspecting each species of flora, hovering your fingertips through the glowing cusp of each plant as if you could feel its light on your skin, laughing together when a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose. Sometimes you caught Bellamy watching whenever your face lit up with excitement as you discovered something new. He never really looked at what you had found; he just looked at you, but you were too overjoyed to even contemplate why.

You felt like you had entered a dream, protected from the outside world where there were Grounders, war, and bitchy brown-haired girls. Everything real was forgotten, even your unrequited feelings for Bellamy. You just enjoyed his company in this dream and pretended it would last forever.

Somehow, you had both ended up lying on the forest floor side-by-side, surrounded by flowers as you stared up at the starry night sky through the tree crowns. It wasn't as cold as before; you guessed it was because of Bellamy's close proximity to you. One of his hands was behind his head, the other on his stomach. His warmth was radiating off his skin and onto your own.

You could have fallen asleep if you closed your eyes. Probably not the most logical idea though.

Bellamy's quiet, yet deep voice disrupted the silence. "It's just a distraction, you know?"

"Hm?"

"Those girls," he clarified, and you watched as his words turned to mist, carrying into the black sky. "If I focus too much on the fact that I have to control an entire camp of teenagers, fight a war against the Grounders, while taking care of Octavia and y—" he cut himself off, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I just feel like I start to lose myself."

Your focus shifted from the sky to him. Even he didn't seem to be looking at the sky anymore, despite his gaze still being pointed straight upward. He looked lost in his own thoughts. Serious and sombre—much different compared to how they had been just a short while ago.

"Well," you began softly. "We can't have that. You already seem a little rough around the edges, Blake."

A grin slowly formed across his lips and he shook his head. He turned his head to the side, looking down at your smiling expression from where he lay. The weightiness from before had melted from his demeanour. Because of a little distraction.

You had thought those two girls he spent most nights with were there purely for his own physical needs or because his attraction to them was greater than his self-control. Never had you contemplated the fact that it might have been because he was mentally struggling with the hardships of being a leader. Of course, how could you have? He had never told you before now.

Your brows furrowed. "Why tell me?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched and the grin fell from his lips. A sense of seriousness returned but this time it was less heavy. It seemed more like a weight was lifting from his shoulders. Like a declaration. Like a long-awaited confession.

You felt something warm brush against your hand; it gently grazed over your knuckles, lighting a fire beneath your skin. In Bellamy's dark eyes, you could see the reflection of his hand caressing your own and your heart leapt to your throat.

"Why do you think?" he murmured, his eyes flickering between your own, urging you to connect the dots instead of making him say it aloud.

Your lips parted and the crease between your eyebrows deepened. 

Every time he picked you first to be his partner on a mission, every deep conversation you shared when no one else was around—they all had a hidden meaning. All the times his hand brushed against yours as you walked in sync side-by-side, the times you caught him staring at you through a one-hundred-person dense crowd, or the way he would step in front of you as if to shield you whenever there was even a hint of danger—it was all because...

"Oh," you whispered.

"Yeah." His eyes flickered between yours before he turned back to the stars. "And I—I understand if you don't feel the same way; I know I haven't given you much reason to. From those girls to the... the radio, and the culling on the Ark. If I could take—"

His sentence was cut short as you leaned over him, pressing your lips to his. You could feel his pulse racing in his lips. Or was it your own? Probably both. Your hair fell to the side and his mouth started to move against your own. He began to rise, moving you up along with him until you were both kissing in a sitting position.

Bellamy's hand moved to cradle your jaw, his lips slow and tender. Everything felt like it had fallen into place, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be, with his lips on yours in the middle of a fairy-tale-like meadow whilst surrounded by a field of glowing flowers and beautiful winged creatures.

The butterflies weren't just circling you now, they were somehow fluttering around in your stomach too and it felt exhilarating.

Unfortunately, the kiss did have to come to an end at some point. Even so, the warm fluttering in your stomach never ceased. Bellamy had pulled away first, his hands gently falling from your jaw and back into his lap. He was looking at you and at first, you were afraid he would get up and leave, or tell you he had changed his mind. But he didn't. A smile crept across his lips—not a self-satisfied smirk or a tantalising grin, but a genuine smile.

Forget the butterflies; your stomach was doing somersaults now. He found your hand once more and interlocked it with his own in your lap. His thumb drew small circles on the side of your palm almost as if he knew you needed a reminder that this moment was really happening.

"That was my first kiss," you admitted.

His smile became a little nervous. "Was it okay?"

Was it okay? This boy was a little clueless if he couldn't tell that you thoroughly enjoyed having his lips on yours. So, you answered him with another soft peck to his lips, then pulled back again to see his reaction. He chuckled, nodding his head to say he understood.

"We can always come out here to practice if you want," he said, this time with a smirk.

You laughed. "I think that's a good idea."

He tucked a lock behind your ear and gently brushed pieces of hair away from your face. You could feel warmth creeping into your cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. Well, it was probably more of a violet hue due to the intense blue glow from the plants and butterflies. Either way, it still revealed how nervous he made you feel.

"It's getting late. We should probably head back and sleep," you said. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, creating his own little innuendo with your words and your eyes widened. "Not together! Alone, I mean. In separate tents. With clothes... on..." you trailed off, realising you were only digging yourself a deeper hole.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.

He just chuckled and rose to his feet. "Come on, (L/N). Let's go sleep."

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he helped you stand up with him.

For a brief moment, you gave the area one last look, imprinting the memory into your mind. Who could have guessed that when you left the camp walls you would enter a fairy tale of vivid colours and electric butterflies? Or, even more surprising, that Bellamy Blake would later confess his feelings for you? All you had wanted was an escape; instead, you got a dream come true.

Bellamy pressed a hand to your lower back, guiding you with him towards the tree line in comfortable silence.

The walk back to the drop ship was pretty quiet. No more words needed to be said; a conversation that clarified what you two were now could wait for tomorrow when your brains weren't clouded by fatigue and the fresh excitement from confession. Some things hadn't changed though. Bellamy still stole glances at you every now and then, as you did him, earning a nervous smile and blush each time either of you got caught. Your hands alternated from brushing against one another to ever-so-slightly linking pinkies.

Okay, maybe things had changed a little.

You passed each flower that had led you to the meadow and this time, they became less and less as you grew closer to the drop ship. As you came up on the camp walls, the sound of fighting and conversations had died down and was replaced by the faint crackling of dying fires.

Finally, you both stepped through one of the openings and were within the camp. There didn't seem to be anyone awake; with the way the moon was shining down straight overhead, it was clear why. 

Your pinkie fell from Bellamy's and you moved in front of him, taking a few slow steps backwards. "Uh, that's my tent over there," you said, gesturing behind you.

His eyes never left yours as he continued to walk toward you. "Yeah, I know."

"Oh, you know, do you?"

A grin stretched across his lips as he hummed and reached for your waist, pulling you against his body. Your hands wound around his neck, a smile present on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from your own. His lips had just brushed against your own when someone behind you cleared their throat and you both jumped apart.

Bellamy peered beside your head, semi-glaring at the interrupter behind you.

What a surprise it was when you turned around to see Roma, arms crossed—clothes on, thankfully—and looking severely unhappy.

"You have got to be kidding me," she said with a scowl.

Perfect. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Looks like her field day had come early.

No way. You were too tired to deal with this. You gave Bellamy an apologetic glance before attempting to slip away through the gaps between tents. Unfortunately, it wasn't in Roma's best interest to let you off so easily. She caught your wrist and jerked you back toward her.

Bellamy looked like he was about to step in, but you beat him to it.

You tore your wrist from her grasp, words dripping with bitterness as you said, "Never do that again."

For a split second, she looked the slightest bit intimidated, but then quickly covered it up with disdain. Her gaze flickered from you to Bellamy; it was hard to miss the way she straightened her posture and tried to look more presentable for him.

And for a split second of your own, you felt the slightest twinge of fear that Bellamy would change his mind about you and leave with her again. But at that very same moment, he gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to his side, dissipating all your previous worries.

Both you and Roma looked down at your interlocked hands in disbelief.

"Listen, Roma." He sighed, sounding like he was desperately trying to keep his cool. "I think it's best if you and Bree find another tent to sleep in from now on."

Her disbelief turned into pure astonishment. "What? Are you serious?"

Bellamy lightly squeezed your hand.

God, he was putting this girl through the five stages of grief. You almost felt bad. Then you remembered the daily torment she had been putting you through just for existing and the remorse immediately washed away.

"Because of her? She's not even—"

"Choose your next words very carefully," he warned in a dangerously low voice.

Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she realised any insult thrown at you would end badly for her. It's not like Bellamy would hurt her, but he did have power over the camp, so he would probably force her to share a tent with Myles or something. His non-stop babbling would drive her to insanity.

She gave him a defiant look. "What if we don't want to leave?"

"I'll take the tent down and move it somewhere else."

"Then Bree and I will make both your lives a living Hell."

You could hear Bellamy suppress a laugh. "Unlikely," he echoed your previous words.

Roma looked to you as if you could help her case—the audacity. You gave her a sarcastic 'what-can-you-do?' shrug which just enhanced her seething temper. It was obvious that she was getting nowhere and the moment she realised, you swore you could see her ego literally deflating.

She made a short high-pitched noise of frustration and spun around, her hair whipping melodramatically through the air as she practically stomped back to Bellamy's tent. You could hear her call out to the other girl inside, telling her to 'pack her shit' and that they were moving tents. Not long after, the blonde-haired girl emerged from the tent flap holding a bundle of clothes. Roma must have explained to her what happened because they both shot a venomous glare in your direction and then walked off in search of another tent.

You sighed in relief as they disappeared out of sight. You were about to walk back to your own tent, but Bellamy tugged you back to him once more, his arms wrapping around your torso as your hands fell on his chest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought she'd handle it better."

You fiddled with the material of his shirt, half-smiling. "I told you she was a gem."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "My taste of women has been a little... questionable."

Your hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling your body up against his. His fingertips grazed the exposed skin of your waist, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.

"You should really try breaking that trend."

He had that same intense look in his eye as when you were both in the meadow. This time it didn't hold any sadness or longing, but rather a sense of finality and affection, like his greatest wish had finally come true—that would make two of you. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as his face grew closer to yours.

The heart thumping in your chest almost gave out as you reflexively leaned further into his warm embrace.

"I already have," he murmured before his soft lips descended upon yours.

And the butterflies returned.

[bbydoll18xx]

I Love You (It’s Ruining My Life)

‘I took the miracle move-on drug. The effects were temporary.’

Paige Bueckers x reader 

Themes: yearning, pining, fluff (all the good stuff)

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Nothing beats intense pining and yearning. And a Taylor song to accompany it?? Sign me up but for real my little crush on Paige is getting embarrassing im 23 years old for fucks sake

I'm working on a few requests still but if you have a good idea, send it my way!! Always looking for new ideas. Also I'm thinking about writing for Kate Martin if you guys would be interested...

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

Your seemingly harmless crush on Paige Bueckers was starting to get a little out of hand. 

It started out simple enough. A friendship was forged from two girls entering college, desperate to prove themselves in their own way. And now here you are, unable to fall asleep without Paige’s clear blue eyes gazing back at you in the darkness of your closed lids. 

You were so fucking screwed.

Your feelings snuck up on you over time, slowly creeping over you until you were fully smothered and unable to breathe without Paige. Yet, at the same time, it was becoming more and more difficult to be around her. You were constantly at war between satisfying the love-sick pull you had towards her and wanting to keep your distance to protect yourself. 

It was becoming embarrassing. The girls of UCONN’s women's basketball team had begun to notice the way your cheeks would ablaze from an innocent stroke of your arm. And they certainly did not miss the way the presence of a tall blonde had you acting like a fucking fool. 

The only one who, to your relief, did not pick up on your bumbling mannerisms, was Paige. She had simply equated your idiosyncrasies to your personality. And that was something you were very thankful for.

You were walking back to your dorm, enjoying the cool autumn breeze flowing through your hair when a warm body plows into you. 

Staggering forward at the sudden force, you look back, eager to yell at the person who just ran into you. Your eyes are met with Paige’s, and she’s grinning like a maniac. Your heart slows once you realize who it is, and you roll your eyes playfully at the blonde’s childish behavior. 

Why did she have to be so damn endearing all the time?

Paige throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to her. You can smell her shampoo, and you fight the urge to lean in more. “Hey, P. What’s up?” You ask, hoping to play off the blush on your face on the effects of the cool air. 

“Just been missin’ you,” she replies. “Me and Aubrey are having the team over tonight. You comin’?” 

As badly as you wanted to, you knew it would not be a good idea. Paige had been partying it up a lot lately. And everytime you were around her, she would hang on you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, her breath hitting your skin in a sinful way. She would cling to you, arms around your waist, pulling you in as if she owned you.

In a sick way, she kind of did. But Paige didn’t need to know that. You were desperately trying to avoid advancing any sort of feelings towards your best friend. 

You gaze up at her, looking into those eyes, wide with hope. It almost made you completely cancel your plans, but you had made a promise to yourself. At the beginning of the new school year, you had told yourself you would try and move on from Paige. And you were starting tonight.

“I have a date,” you profess, trying to keep up an air of confidence.

Paige’s face morphs into a look you couldn’t quite put your finger on. She almost looked annoyed. “Oh. Well, have fun. Stop on by after if you’re up to it.”

You nod, a small, faux smile adorning your face, and you wave bye to her as you head back home. 

~

Music is playing softly in your bathroom as you touch up your makeup. Your date, Ross, was coming to pick you up in 15 minutes, and the butterflies in your belly were swarming horrendously. You desperately wanted to find a way out of the situation, but your crush on Paige was going nowhere if you didn’t open yourself up to other people. That is why you’ve been distracting yourself every weekend with an endless stream of guys who just did not do it for you.

You gather your shoes and your purse before walking into the kitchen. You pour yourself a shot and down it, hissing as it burns its way down your throat. You weren’t the type to casually do shots, but you needed something to calm your nerves. 

Popping a breath mint, so your date didn’t think you were an alcoholic, you straighten your skirt, and you take a deep breath. ‘I look hot. I can do this,’ you affirm. Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock on your door. 

Grabbing your belongings, you plaster a smile on your face and open it. You become face-to-face with a tall, dark-haired guy. His smile was heavenly, and his eyes sparkled in a way that had your stomach doing flips. He was the perfect distraction, and in your head, you were applauding yourself. 

You introduce yourself, awkwardly holding out a hand for him to shake.

Chuckling, he grabs it, and with a wink says, “I’m Ross. Nice to formally meet you. You ready to go?” 

His large hand was engulfing yours, and once more today, a blush threatened to shroud your features. You nod and follow him out to his car. You take note of its messiness, but you overlook it. It was not the time to be overly critical. 

As you buckle yourself in, Ross turns on his music, and familiar lyrics come through the stereo system. You giggle at the song. Paige loved this song, and you had heard it so many times, you knew all the lyrics.

The drive goes by quick, to your relief. Ross pulls into the restaurant and backs into a parking spot. He does it with a practiced ease that reminds you of Paige.

Fuck.

You had to stop thinking about her. Your attempts to deter your own feelings were becoming futile, you were realizing, and a sinking feeling started to overtake your consciousness.

~

All throughout dinner, everything Ross did either annoyed you or reminded you of Paige. He was cute; you couldn’t deny that. But he wasn’t Paige. And as time passed, you realized that this was not going to work. 

Trying to get over Paige with guys who made you feel literally nothing was not going to do anything to quell the butterflies in your stomach that Paige gave you when she just smiled. And it certainly was not going to stop the way your heart pounded when she would hug you, hands sliding down your back to rest on your waist with a comfortable weight. 

So when he dropped you back off, you swore off trying to force anything between you and any more random guys that could not hold a candle to what you felt for Paige. It was a harsh reality, but you simply hoped that the crush would fizzle out before things could get weird between you and your best friend.

Glancing at your phone, you notice that the night was still young. Things were probably just ramping up over at Aubrey and Paige’s apartment, and you were so very tempted to head over just so you could be close to Paige. 

Before your voice of reason could take over, you are touching up your makeup and leaving your dorm to head over to Paige’s. There was nothing stopping your lovesick brain from savoring Paige’s drunken affections; you’d deal with consequences in the morning. 

~

Meanwhile, Paige was downing shots, trying to numb the pain of your absence. The girls of the basketball team had noticed her somber spirit, and several girls had huddled in the corner, trying to decipher what was going on with their blonde teammate. 

“Girly pop is gettin’ drunk real fast,” KK observed. 

“For real. Who hurt her?” Ice agrees worriedly. 

“Maybe it has something to do with a certain someone who is out on a date right now…” Nika trails, a smug smirk on her face

Gasps sound from the mouths of the tipsy girls, and knowing looks are shared as realizations come to head. 

“She’s down bad,” Ines giggles, sipping from her cup, and the team agrees, looking over to where Paige is moodily scrolling through her phone on the couch. 

Pressing a finger to her lips, KK sneaks over behind the couch where Paige is moping, and she subtly glances over Paige’s shoulder. Her face morphs into a look of sheer glee, and she runs back to the group with a smug grin on her face. 

“Guess who’s Insta she’s lookin’ through!” KK shrieks, and the other girls erupt with laughter, catching the attention of the aforementioned blonde. 

“Act natural,” Nika shushes, and the girls move away from their gossip circle to avoid suspicion. 

Before the team could give themselves away, you walk into the apartment, immediately locking eyes with Paige. With a shy wave, you walk over to where she was sitting, plopping down on the couch next to her.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?” You ask confusedly. 

Paige shrugs. “How was your date? I’m surprised you’re back already.”

You look down at your hands, fiddling with several of your rings. “He was…I don’t know? Not what I’m looking for, I guess?” You weren’t sure how to explain it. It’s not like you could confess that the real reason you had no desire to ever see Ross, or any other guy again if you were being honest, was because they weren’t Paige. 

“Well, ‘m glad you’re here. Let’s get my pretty girl a drink,” she says, words slightly slurring. She stands up, offering you a hand, and you take it without hesitation. It feels so natural, and you attempt to ignore the warmth in your chest that blooms, threatening to give away your practiced nonchalance. 

You completely miss how the group of girls in the corner erupt in giddy giggles as the two of you walk hand in hand towards the alcohol piled on the kitchen counter.

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to the rest of the people crowded in the apartment, and you’re soon tipsy, dancing around with Aubrey and Azzi. Your hips are swaying seductively to the rhythm of the music, when Paige is suddenly next to you, wrapping a muscular arm around your waist. She brings you closer to her, and through the haze of the alcohol, alarm bells sound in your brain.

You see Aubrey and Azzi share a knowing look as Paige hangs on you, singing the lyrics of the SZA song that was blasting through the apartment. Your cheeks heat up at the contact, and you avoid the gazes of the girls who were sending you smug smirks. 

“Fuck off,” you mouth in their direction. You had been fighting the yearning allegations, and this was not helping your case. 

Looking up at Paige, you notice how her eyes were glazed over, pupils blown wide from the dark room and something else you couldn’t put your finger on. Your stare drops down to her lips, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip to wet it. Feeling suddenly self-conscious and a bit warm, your eyes quickly dart back up to meet her gaze, and you pull further away from her to seek solace in the kitchen.

Paige furrows her brow in confusion, following you to the kitchen like a lost puppy, where you’ve already seated yourself on the counter top. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as the distance is created, but it only takes several seconds for Paige to insert herself between your spread legs.

She places a hand on your thigh tentatively, as if she could break you, and peers into your eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her voice cracking as she calls you ‘baby’. 

“Just needed some air,” you mumble, feeling hot again at her proximity. She was so pretty, and her touch was igniting a fire deep inside of you. 

Shit was starting to get dangerous.

Paige cocks her head, and places her other hand on the counter next to where your butt was, caging you in. Your breath quickens, and your head spins. 

Emboldened by your lack of sobriety, you hesitantly lean forward, worried your actions would scare Paige. She mirrors you, searching for a reason not to kiss you. 

You nod your head, and before you can even think about the insanity of the situation you had found yourself in, Paige’s lips were on yours. 

Her lips were soft, and they moved against yours in a sickening fashion, pulling a soft moan from the depths of your throat. Your hands reach up, one cupping her jaw, and the other resting on the back of her neck, pulling her closer into you. Paige’s hand moves to your inner thigh, exposed from the short skirt you wore riding up, and she draws small circles, experimenting with the pressure as she goes. Her other hand moves your waist, bringing you in even closer until your bodies are melded together in the throes of passion and need. 

A whoop sounds through the kitchen, and Paige quickly pulls away to see Aubrey and KK dancing excitedly in the doorway. Your face flushes as you realize you’ve been caught, and you peek over to where Paige is now rubbing a hand across her face, a similar pink hue spreading over it. 

“Knew it,” Aubrey smirks, and she exchanges enthusiastic high fives with KK. 

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics before looking back over to you, still sitting awkwardly on the counter. 

“Let’s go talk in my room,” she mumbles, picking you up and placing you back onto your feet. 

Your heart lurches as she momentarily places her hands on the back of your thighs to help you down, and she leads you to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly.

You go to sit on her bed, thinking of ways to explain yourself for your lustful actions. You could always blame it on the alcohol, but you knew Paige would see right through that. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth, gnawing on it out of anxiety when Paige’s voice breaks your incessant worrying. 

“Been waiting for you to kiss me forever, ya know,” she deadpans. She’s trying to hide the grin on her face, as a look of shock engulfs your own. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me, P? We could’ve been doing that for the past three years?” You respond, feeling a little less annoyed than the way it was coming off. You were actually fucking elated. 

Paige chuckles, and she comes to sit next to you, brushing a strand of hair over your shoulder. “What was I supposed to do when you were always dating all those random dudes?” She asks, shrugging, attempting to minimize the gravity of the situation.

Your face softens at her vulnerability. “I was trying to distract myself from you, Paigey,” you explain quietly. Paige lets out a small puff of air at the realization, and she leans in to you once more, her breath fanning across your lips. 

“I love you,” you whisper, and she pulls you in, repeating the words as if it was a prayer, over and over again. 

~

Thanks for reading!! I'll hopefully be posting again soon

[mamayan]

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃

Shigaraki Tomura x Fem! Reader

Good girls should just stay home, lest something goes bump in the night.

cw: NSFW • Implied Murder • Implied Serial Killer • Consensual Non-Consent turned Non-Consensual • Noncon • Dubcon • Abuse • Fingering (F) • Oral (M) • Deep Throating • Rough Sex • Attempted Murder • Hair Pulling • Degradation/Slight Humiliation • Dacryphilia • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • a little OOC • This story possessed me and basically wrote itself • Barely proof read tbh

wc: 7k+

Something must be wrong with you.

Or at least, that’s what you imagine the world would think if anyone knew what you were doing.

The room was dark aside from the blue glow of your computer screen. The black web browser with red lettering almost ominous as your eyes scanned the consent form again. It was a consent form just to access the full website, on the surface serving only as a dating type of situation for the BDSM community. Beneath it though were layers deeper than what the simple description actually provided. You only found out about it through a deep dive into multiple sub-threads of Reddit. It was a basket case of crazy, the majority of information or advice, but you managed to dig up one reliable looking source.

This website you were currently on. L@ce&R0pe.com happened to provide a wide variety of goodies, from sex toys to actual published books on shibari, there wasn’t much you couldn’t find. Except like all websites not swallowed up by the deep web, there was never any section like the one you wanted so desperately.

Except this one, because your mouse didn’t hesitate to shift and hover over the drop down section for MEET, where you could link up with real people for whatever your heart desired really. You trailed down to NEW FRIEND, and clicked. A new tab opened, this one themed differently than the main website. It was light blue and pink, almost like a baby shower, except the only thing on the page was a single drop down menu, and clicking it made your head ache. There were thousands of options, but thankfully it was organized alphabetically, so you could easily scroll mindlessly until you hit the C section.

You found what you wanted, clicking it as your chosen option and hitting GO.

The screen changed, this time it looked similar to a dating profile fillable. You worked quickly, efficiently even, as you typed all your information in.

Not your name or address, nothing silly like that. Just your measurements, your favorite foods or beverages, the color of your eyes, your hair color, your height, and even the style of your nails. It asked if you liked to brush your hair everyday, how often you showered, what shampoo or body wash you like. You answered them all, as invasive as they soon became, you never wavered. What brand of deodorant do you use? How often do you clip or file your nails? To what length? Do you shave your pubic area? How often? What style? How many sexual partners have you had? Where have you had sex? Which hole do you prefer? Are you a crier or a screamer? Does blood turn you on? Do you like physical or mental pain more? Have you ever been raped before?

They got more personal and physiological as you answered. You felt hot and stuffy despite the window being open and the cool autumn air blowing in. You kept answering even as your throat got tighter and unease nestled into your clavicle.

Do you want to know who your new friend will be?

This time you do hesitate. Knowing would make it feel safer. Knowing would give you some semblance of control. Knowing would be the smart choice.

You clicked “no” and submitted the form, sealing your fate as your hands shook and adrenaline pumped through your veins.

You set the date for October 31st. Now all you had to do was wait and show up.

A notification hit his phone, lighting up the screen as cigarette smoke billowed around him in the back alley. A quick glance was all he needed to unlock and fully see the entire screen. The leather of his jacket rubbed against the brick he leaned against.

Halloween was probably the best time for such fun, crime rates skyrocketing and parties being loud and wild really left a big gaping hole for any type of heinous activity to occur. He grinned as the information poured onto his screen. His dick already becoming painfully hard as he read all your supplied information. You liked breath play, having someone spit in your mouth, even being slapped around. He was always amazed by the lack of shortage for sick freaks like you, but then again, he was one of them too. Licking his top lip, tongue piercing flicking out to rub against his cupid’s bow, he clicked “ACCEPT” on the notification. He had all your information, the when and where, and your adorable little comment of “Please don’t degrade me.” What more could he ask for? His smile is sinister in the low light off the neon sign of the bar, casting a purplish hue on his skin as he chuckles and shoves his phone away. Flicking his cigarette butt onto the dirty ground, he cracked his neck and knuckles before going back inside to finish his beer and round of pool with his friends.

He’ll see you on Halloween. He might even dress up a little for the occasion.

It’s cold.

It’s nearly November so you hadn’t expected warm weather necessarily, but it seemed chillier than usual despite your fairly insulated dress.

You dressed up as an angel, the irony not lost on you at all but it felt fitting almost for the occasion. The pristine white looked off in your surroundings. It was nearly midnight, but despite that the sidewalk of the park was filled with a fairly regular crowd of people passing through, on to the next party or home to sleep off all the alcohol. Really, you weren’t too out of place, in your white stockings and black heeled boots, the fluffy ruffled white babydoll dress that barely covered your ass or tits and the wings which were strapped around your shoulders and jutted out behind you. On your head was a slim clip which was attached to a white shiny halo that seemed to float above you, only a thin wire keeping it up. You’d at first felt a little exposed passing children going home for the night after trick or treating, eyes of judgemental families which you ignored boring into you, but now it was time for the adults to have fun. You’d already passed a plethora of college students or older dressed even more scantily than you, making you feel better, safer, out in the park you’d chosen. You’d chosen 0300 as your designated meetup time, but specified you’d be early in case they wanted to start sooner. So here you stood, under a streetlamp that illuminated you in a yellow glow, making you seem even more angelic despite the ominous darkness surrounding you. You were busy playing on your phone, scrolling mindlessly and trying not to appear too excited. Or scared. You figured it was a combination of both, the arousal and fear bleeding into one very specific but unnamed emotion. Tapping your boot to a rhythm only you could hear, the night drew on and another hour passed. The droves of people passing didn’t dwindle, but it was always a group, never a single individual which you hoped was your new friend. It was almost 0130 when you felt watched, goosebumps rising on your skin as you realized someone must be looking at you. A quick glance around showed no one though, and after ten minutes your hope dissolved into disappointment. It seemed your friend wasn’t an early bird.

“Hey,” a raspy, deep voice speaking almost directly into your ear, startling you enough to elicit a yelp. You turned, eyes landing on a dark clothed chest and trailing up to a hooded face you could barely make out through a mess of blue hair. His lips look a bit chapped, a small scar decorating a corner, but his teeth are white and straight as he smiles a grin that causes shivers to shoot down your spine.

…maybe your friend was an early bird, just not as much as you.

You take a step back, stuttering stupidly due to your overactive nerves and the earlier shock of his sudden appearance. “H-hi…um,” the stranger tilts his head, eyes still not visible, dark hoodie baggy on his frame. He looks a bit thin, like he wouldn’t have a lot of strength, his jeans having some strange splattering of fake blood or something on them. You lick your lips, heart ready to leap from your chest but not quite ready for the events to unfold.

Or maybe you were very ready.

“You’ve been standing here for hours,” he comments nonchalantly, hands moving to shove inside the large inner pocket on his hoodie, “Aren’t ya tired of waiting for your boyfriend?” His question is a bit confusing, and when you glance around you, it dawns that there’s no one out right now. When had the crowds dwindled to nothing? “I don’t… have a boyfriend…” you had clearly stated that online too, so he already knew the answer to your relationship status. Was he just teasing? Keeping this as realistic as possible? It made you a bit pleased. You fiddled with the ends of your cute frilly dress, exposing a small portion of your skin and garter belt which kept your thigh high socks up. His eyes tracked the motion, lips pulling up even higher making his smile menacing. Dangerous. “That so?” He asks, but it doesn’t seem like he’s too interested in a reply as he steps closer, his beat up sneakers so silent on the ground it’s a little unnerving. Since he’s playing along so much, it feels wrong for you to not reciprocate.

“What do you think you’re doing, creep? Stay back,” You hope he’s not offended by the name, figuring it wasn’t too mean or odd of a thing to call him. Your firm stance and defiant gaze make him pause, head tilting again but he’s quick to recover and laugh. It’s less of a sexy and deep chuckle like you expected, and more pitched and giggly. It’s almost creepy to hear from a grown man. Like a child from a horror movie laughing. “Creep? Yeah? Guess I am, but you know what?” His head lifts, and since he’s more centered under the tall street lamp, when he looks straight at you, two red eyes flash. “I’m a lot fucking worse than your average dumbass creep,” you jolt when he lunges at you, hand outstretched to grab you. It’s instinctive how quickly you turn and run, adrenaline helping you shoot off into the park where no light but the moon shined down. This is what you wanted, you chant to yourself to stay level headed enough to not truly panic. This was staged and as safe as possible. He’s not actually going to hurt you. You’d be fine, albeit maybe a little sore tomorrow morning. You shut your mind off and focus on running, though your speed wasn’t great in such cheap and unstable boots, roots and random objects on the ground constantly tripping you up.

You looked like the dumb girl in the horror movies, tits practically out of your low cut revealing white dress, strapless white bra damn useless and more for show than any real support or push-up. You huffed, digging in your heels when you heard a few twigs snap behind you, feet carrying you faster as you realized he was gaining on you quickly. He didn’t shout and you didn’t scream. The chase was exhilarating, your mind becoming fuzzy as your lungs burned for more oxygen. You hadn’t planned a chase, really leaving it all up to fate and your new friend, but this was perfect.

Until fingers tangled tight in your hair and yanked you completely off your feet, your shoes and legs going out in front of you as you landed gracelessly on your ass. Then an intense burning in your scalp erupts, a hiss of pain and a whine escaping as you slide over cool damp foliage, senseless grumbling coming from the stranger as he drags you into a deeper more secluded section of the park, away from any and all prying eyes. Not like anyone gave a damn. “I-it hurts!” You feel childish for crying, tears pricking your eyes but the burn was worse than you imagined truly, soft hands coming up to try and pry his fingers off.

He has a grip of iron apparently, not the least bit phased as he sighs, hauling you up and tossing you in front of him. You land weirdly on your left shoulder, a shock of pain numbing your mind as you heave for air and roll over. When you open your eyes, you’re face to face with him. His hood pulled off, shoulder length blue hair now tied back and up into a little bun while some stray pieces frame his face and forehead. Your eyes adjust to the darkness as they take him in.

He’s young, maybe early twenties, with pale skin and dark bags hugging beneath his scarlet eyes. He’s got a beauty mark just below his lip on the right side, the scar you saw earlier on the other. He’s not hard on the eyes, cute even, but the strange air around him makes the close proximity fill you with anxiety. His eyebrows are thin and sparse, but he cocks one with a smirk. “Not gonna scream for help, crybaby?” The nickname makes you realize tears are streaming down your cheeks, you blink them away quickly, shaking your head and trying to find your words again. “I—uh, do you want me to?” Wouldn't screaming just make it more likely for someone to call the police? You figured a little noise was fine, but screaming seemed counter productive.

His eyes widened a bit, confusion painting his features as he crouched down more comfortably on his haunches to get a better look at you.

He’d been watching you since you got to the park. A single party in this sort of place always sticks out like a sore thumb. You looked more ready for a porno than a costume party, from behind the view of your ass indescribably arousing in your short little dress. It was both a slutty and innocent look you pulled off well, at least enough to make him riled up, cock twitching in agreement within his pants. He shamelessly rubbed it through his jeans, caressing the hardening length and letting you watch with glee. Your face made him snort, amusement evident as he chuckles and squints. “You like this, little freak?” You looked like you did, he notes. Your wide pretty eyes, still a little teary and red at the ends, showed your blown out pupils. You looked to be more star struck, not terrified like any normal girl chased through a park and dragged into a little corner between some trees to be out of sight. He watches you swallow hard, lips parting before closing as if you aren’t sure what to say to that question. “Fuck, you’re cute,” he grins, “a cute little slut who stood out at night all alone as if begging for someone to come along and do something nasty.” You release a tiny yelp as he meanly shoves you back, straddling your upper chest with his thighs as he hunches over you, looming ominously above with wild eyes screaming for chaos. “Good thing that I came along, huh? Make all your nasty little fantasies come true.” He watches you gasp as he presses his fingers against your lips, confusion evident on your face but you aren’t really putting up much of a fight as you open and let him slide two in. “Nasty fucking girl, look at you, when you don’t even fucking know me.” He chuckles, and while he’s teasing you mostly, he is amazed. You looked erotic as hell right now, little angel costume all wrinkled and a bit dirty from the earth below, pretty face a bit stained with mascara that had run a little from your earlier tears. You weren’t wearing the waterproof kind it seemed. Lips bitten and chewed on, plump and glossy from whatever glittery shit you swiped on them earlier now wrapped around his digits as he dug around in your warm wet mouth. “Suck on them, slut,” he orders, his smile dropping and face becoming more serious as you hurry to obey, a strange trepidation building in your gut. He groans as he feels your tongue wiggle and swirl, pumping his fingers a bit now and enjoying the little bleats you release when he chokes you a bit with them. “Wonder if you’re soaked down here~” he hums, leaning back a bit and yanking his fingers from your lips, wiping the excess saliva across your cheek and huffing a laugh as your features wrinkle in distaste. His hand moves behind him, easy access to your cunt due to the frilly dress hiked up almost around your waist, revealing cute soaked white cotton panties he growls at the sight of. “You really suck at putting up a fight, crybaby, but I think I heard somewhere that girls get wet when scared too…” those red eyes flick back to your own, "You scared?” He asks, almost softly. He watches you breathe, chest struggling a bit under his weight but your hands curled into the fabric of his hoodie, not pushing him away. “A little…?” Is your shaky response, and he wonders silently if you’re an idiot or just a pervert. You might be both, because when he lets his thumb dig into where your pussy lay poorly hidden, you moan for him and spread your legs wider. You make it even easier to search for his desired location, your swollen bundle of nerves. “O-oh—!” Your head falls back, little halo becoming a bit misshapen as it gets flattened to the ground, he tsks, fixing it with his free hand as he thumbs your little clit and watches you mewl and writhe beneath him, pleasure clearly visible on your face. Your hips buck and wiggle, body pinned beneath his and unable to get away or closer like you desperately want for more friction than he’s providing. “P-please,” you can’t help but beg, hoping your new friend is merciful enough to make you cum and not simply edge you all night.

It’s the pouty expression which makes him nearly feral, his grin spreading wide again as he keeps working his finger on your clit but his face closes the distance between your own. His lips just barely graze yours, and you are all too happy to part your lips and give him a sloppy kiss back, his own tongue finally slipping into your mouth where you suck. The smooth muscle in your mouth and the saliva dripping from it drive you wild, hands now dragging him closer and trying to make him do more for you. The heat spreads slowly however, his pace not changing, and despite his slim build he’s much stronger than you. You aren’t able to take any more than what is given, huffing in exasperation and groaning when he places more force before easing off. “S-stop teasing…” you whine against his lips, which were much softer than they look. He smirks, airy chuckle felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh, “how can I not, you’re such a rare find, I plan to take my time with you.” He kisses you hard to silence whatever whines you planned to release to make him give you more. Instead he forces you into a slow building orgasm that leaves him having to pin your wrists above your head lest your clawing rip his skin open. He works you gently and cruelly into it, loving how you gasp and choke for him, eyes rolling back while you shake almost like you’re possessed and soak through your panties. “There you go, heh, normally I wouldn’t bother to take my time with whiny bitches, but you’re more obedient and sweet than I first assumed.” He whispers into your ear as you come down from the mind blowing high, body limp and pliant like dough now. The insult from him brings out a little whine of protest, teary eyes looking at him with almost something akin to betrayal.

“I-I don’t like being called mean names…I said so online too,” he pulls up finally, the chill of the night attacking full force on your now exposed cunt as he brings your panties up to his nose to inhale. His eyes narrow, almost into slits as he pulls them back and shoves them into his hoodie pocket. “Oh yeah? You post that shit on your social media or something? Sorry, I don’t really use those trash platforms. I have a Twitch stream though,” he acts like this is the time for a regular conversation, even as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, yanking them down his hips to pull his cock free. Your eyes go wide, mind a bit blank and missing something, in favor of looking at him pump his length lazily. A trail of blue curls like on his head travel from his navel to his groin where it spreads out a little, the color a bit darker as it goes lower. He’s not one to shave it seems, but your eyes focus on his cock, average in length but girthy with a tip that curves up almost perfectly. It looks like a cock someone would sell as a dildo at a sex store. It was pretty, admittedly, as a few pearls of pre-cum dotted the tip and spilled over as he slowly worked it above you. “Hungry?” He jokes, but when you nod he grits his teeth and bites back a moan, the night truly more unexpected than he thought. “Open up then, crybaby.” He thankfully didn’t call you a bitch again, crybaby the less of the evils and more acceptable of a petname for your preference as you open your lips and awkwardly lean your head forward. “No need to lean up,” he mumbles, shifting until his knees now rested by your shoulders, tip just in your mouth and his forearms on the earth above your head. He’s looking down at you, and you lay back down as he works his cock in your mouth. He’s going to fuck your mouth, you realize a bit late, the position so easy for him to hit balls deep in your throat and prevent you from running just from his weight alone. You’re pinned to earth, the scent of crisp autumn becoming mingled with the musky masculine odor the stranger had clinging to him. Something smelled of iron too, but it was fainter and didn’t bother you too much, not when he seemed determined to suffocate you with his cock. You jerk a little, teeth accidentally grazing his cock and his hiss of pain alerts you that you’ve hurt him. He pulls up and out of your mouth, glaring ferociously as he looks down at you with contemplation. “Sorry—! I’m not used—,” the words leaving you mouth go unfinished as you’re suddenly looking away and down, confusion wracking your mind before white hot pain erupts across your face and you cry out in agony.

He watches with a cool nonchalance as you whimper and cry, holding your inflamed cheek and looking at him with teary eyes filled with questions. The sight doesn’t help his hardness, your face swelling a bit from the force of the blow already, but it was still arousing how you cried for him so easily. “Don’t bite my fucking dick and I won’t hit you, clear?” He’s grabbing you roughly by the hair again, yanking you up and no longer in the mood for that awkward position as he stands and pulls you to your knees. This position at least gives him a good eye full of your tits, shaking from your little trembling as you’re made to look up at him. His angry reddened cock next to your injured cheek is a sight for him, his hand gripping his shaft and slapping you lightly on the cheek with it, his hand in your hair preventing you from turning away even as you whimper in pain. “Okay, we’ll try this again, crybaby. Open.” You do, even as tears run like waterfalls down your face, mascara smeared and making a pathetic sight for sore eyes of you, you let his cock enter your mouth once more.

Because you’ve never been more aroused.

Your stranger isn’t nice, pushing hard and deep into your throat immediately and gagging you. You’re careful with your teeth, jaw already burning and aching as he locks his arm and hand, strands of hair tearing out as he works his hips into your face at an uneven pace. “Stop fucking moving,” he growls, stepping even closer, blocking any and all exits and forcing you to take it. His cock didn’t seem so scary when he’d pulled it out, but in your throat it was a plug to your oxygen and felt too big for your poor mouth. It hurt, feeling him go too deep and leaving you coughing and sputtering and even still he wouldn’t pull out, groaning and pressing impossibly deep like he truly means to suffocate you. “You got a good little mouth pussy, crybaby. Fuck—take my cock, just like that.” He moans, watching as you struggle on his dick to breathe or swallow, slobber and tears coating his cock as he makes a mess of your pretty face. He doesn’t care that your eyes are starting to roll back, hands which had previously been clawing at his legs going limp at your sides. You acted more like a hole for him to fuck when you were limp like this, and it drove him wild as he grunted like an animal and rutted into your mouth like he held a grudge against you. Both hands dug into your hair, hands pulling you back onto his cock when his hips bucked you away. “Never fucked a—holy shit—ah, mouth so damn good before—, ah fuck, fuck,” he’s getting breathier as time ticks by, his own eyes rolling back as his balls draw up tight. “I’m going to cum, ready for me crybaby? Want it in your tummy or on your face?” He’s being condescending on purpose, but it’s a bit useless considering he’s rendered you nearly unconscious on his dick. He shrugs your lack of response off, pumping his cock down your throat until he sees stars and yanks himself free just before the first spurt misses and hits the grass below, he grips the base, pumping and shooting his next shot right onto your face. He yanks your head against his thigh, delirious face dazed and coughing softly as he finishes on your glitter and mascara run cheeks, using the tip to smear it well into your ruined makeup as he sneers at you from above.

“Hah…” he catches his breath, sucking in oxygen along with you as his gaze turns calculated.

“Wake up, I’m not done with you yet.” He’s more gentle now that he's cum at least once, tapping your uninjured cheek with two fingers as your eyes roll around before opening and looking at him.

He swears, your face making him hard again instantly, blood pooling to his groin at the messy sight of you in your white ruined angel costume. “You really are unlucky I was out tonight, I don’t think I’m gonna let you go.” His dead serious comment caused something cold to hit your veins, chills running through you as you gape in shock.

“W-what…?” He reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulling out what looked like a foot long serrated hunting blade. He snickers at the blank look of shock on your features.

“What’s wrong, crybaby? No tears for me right now?” You’re shaking, getting paler by the second as you realize no, it’s not a costume, and yes, there is still dried blood on the blade. There’s dried blood all over him, his spree tonight ridiculously fruitful and his body still high on the thrill. Imagine his luck finding you. “T-this wasn’t in my profile, wh-what are you doing?” Now you look alert, now you act like a regular civilian, he notes cooly. “I only con-consented to the sex and stuff, I said I didn’t like—like blades or blood play.” Your eyes are wide as saucers and you have a cold sweat now forming and dotting your skin, shaky like on too much caffeine as your body dumped chemicals to help you run.

His head tilts, a few more strands of hair coming loose from his tie as those red eyes watch you without any emotion in their depths.

“Ah~ I get it now. Are you some kind of freak who links up with people online for this kind of shit?” He laughs, eyes not matching the manic toothy grin. “Sorry to disappoint slut, I ain’t your tinder or whatever match. Did you do it anonymously?” He’s beyond amused, thrilled by the horror dawning on your face as reality sets in. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He sneers, but he’s joyful when you book it, heeled boots caked in mud as they dig into the ground and you take off for real. True intent to get away now because he’s not your new friend, he’s a real stranger and his energy is nothing but malevolent.

You’re going to die.

It’s a sick thought that twists inside you as you push the hardest you’ve ever, scream bubbling up and out as you cry for help now. “HELP! Please! Someone! Anyone!” It’s more broken and hoarse than you want, his earlier abuse to your throat having taken a number on your ability to vocalize.

It’s empty. This damn park is empty.

Not a soul around and you can’t hear him coming for you anymore, and it only makes the tears fall harder as you drive your body to a breaking point. If no one is around you can at least aim for your car, your phone will take too much time to look at and dial the police, you’d be too open and that would mean—

Something—someone—smashes into you, your body thrown sideways by the brute force and flung roughly to the ground where you roll several feet.

It hurts—!

Your body and mind scream as pain lights up your shoulder, a previously dull ache now hounding for your attention so much it left you lightheaded. You twisted your ankle too or maybe broke it, already so regretful for the evening and your life choices that your shoes hardly broke the bank. It all hurt, and yet you still tried to crawl to get away, still eager for another deep breath of air in your lungs even if it hurt to do that too.

“Hck, please, please—help—!,” you’re a sobbing pathetic mess, and he couldn’t be more turned on by the sight. He dusts himself off like he hadn’t tackled you like a linebacker for a major league football team, his lanky form sinewy with muscle and his agility nothing to scoff at. He swirls the enormous daunting blade with a whistle, smiling more genuinely as he strolls towards your shaking form crawling away.

“Where do you think you’re going, crybaby? I said I wasn’t done with you,” he lands a solid hit to your middle, dirty sneaker smearing mud on your cute little dress, looking less and less white as the night wears on. The blow is not hard enough to damage anything, he’s sure, but you act as if you’ve been disemboweled by how you howl and heave. He rolls his eyes at the dramatics, settling one foot between your shoulder blades and pressing down until you’re left immobilized.

Your vision is blurry, going in and out of focus as you try, and try, and try to get away, cute nail polish chipped and ruined as you claw at the dirt floor for leverage.

He admires your tenacity. “You think you can get away? That anyone is coming to save you?” He brushes a few stray hairs out of his face as he laughs, the urge to gut you strong as he savors your useless little struggle. “Crybaby, look around! No one is coming! I said look,” he grinds out, dropping to one knee while his other leg remains planted on your back, his hand gripping your hair and yanking your head up to see what he meant.

There’s a fence. A metal chain link fence, and it had a sign your vision was too blurry to read through your tears.

“You ran yourself straight into the worst possible area, this is sort of your game over,” He leans down to look at you, yanking your head back and forcing you into an uncomfortable arch. He raises up the blade, fully intending to slit your pretty throat and watch your eyes as the light fades, but you blubber out a sentence which halts him.

“Y-you didn’t finish! E-earlier, hck, earlier you didn’t finish—!” Your eyes squeeze closed in pain as he yanks your head to the side. Confusion burned in him, and curiosity kept you breathing for now.

“Didn’t finish what, crybaby? Fairly certain I finished all over your face, if I remember correctly.” He has a sharp edge in his tone, something metallic fills your mouth and you realize you’ve bitten through your tongue in your panic. A few drops spill past your lips, catching his attention.

“S-shouldn’t you also f-fuck me too? I-it’s why I came out tonight, wh-why I, ah, d-did this,” it’s a long shot by any means, and he’s no fool, but you did make a good point.

He was still hard.

“Smart little crybaby, aren’t you?” He mutters darkly, setting aside his blade in favor of smashing your face into the dirt, keeping your head down as he presses against your back and yanks your hips up. Your knees are skinned from the rough handling, socks torn open and stained with blood and dirt while his calloused hands slip beneath your dress. Your breath hitches. You needed to think of some way out of this, some kind of plan to escape or incapacitate him.

He’s busied himself with your still dripping cunt. Two fingers roughly filling your hole and uncaringly stretching your tight entrance. “You really are a freak, wet even though you’re going to die, crybaby.” He felt a bit strange as you whimper and mewl below, hand slowing as he tried to place the feeling.

He shrugs it off, instead easily yanking down his jeans which were still unbuttoned and pulling out his cock once more, stroking his shaft a few times before he lined himself up with your puffy lips. “Fuck—,” he swears, eyes seeing stars as he pushes just his tip past the tight ring of muscle at your entrance, mouth opening as licks his lips and stares down at you. “Never had pussy so good…” he giggles darkly, cracking his neck as he pushes each inch inside of you, stretching you out deliciously until you’re speared on his cock with his hips flush with your ass. “Who knew you’d be the best, crybaby.” He muses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips, your little dress flipped up and over your ass so he can watch it bounce as he leans back on his knees to fuck you deeper. You need to think straight but it’s difficult with how good your body feels, the pain from earlier seeming to go away with a numb buzz as he fills your pussy, hitting perfectly against a spot that has you arching harder for more.

You really are a freak like he says.

You can’t help relaxing further, eyes dumbly looking to the side where your head rests as he pounds into you from behind, the coil in your gut growing tighter by the minute.

The clouds blocking the moon seem to part just for you, the full moon’s light no longer blocked and illuminating the little patch of grass he’d tackled you into. Something gleams, in perfect reach too as your eyes widen.

His knife.

He’d already proven you can’t outrun him, but what if he was injured? There’s a major artery in the thigh, if you hit that, wouldn’t you be able to get away?

He yanks back roughly, moaning as he feels you squeeze even tighter around him, velvet walls massaging his dick while he tries to fuck himself as deep as possible inside of you.

It hit you despite all your intentions not to, because this wasn’t safe and he wants to end your life and everything is wrong, but your body doesn’t listen. You cum with a shaky cry, and with an awkward turn of your head you watch as his head goes back and he moans, eyes closed in bliss as you coat his cock in even more slick.

You’re louder than you intended to be, but your fingers close around the hilt nonetheless, trembling with the heavy weight in your grasp, you use every ounce of energy inside you to swing it back into his thigh.

“Cute,” you scream as he catches your wrist, hand clenching so tight you feel your bones grind together as the knife falls from your grip. He twists your arm around and pins your wrist behind your back, holding it in place while his other hand remains at your hip.

“So fucking cute, crybaby. Did you cum just to distract me or was that because you couldn’t help yourself?” He’s getting a high from this, from fucking you and turning you into nothing but a toy as he bounces you on his cock, hips still but arms pulling you back and forth with ease. Scarlet eyes drink you in with undisguised sick glee, and he’s finally able to place the feeling from earlier.

“A pretty little slut trying to get her rocks off and getting shown why she should’ve been a good girl and stayed home,” he grunts, releasing you and leaning over, pinning you with his weight and nearly knocking the air from your lungs how deeply he hits you inside from this angle. Dirt fills the underbelly of your nails, your fingers digging into the earth just for some semblance of stability.

You had none. It was a sick and horrifying realization. You have no control. You can do nothing to stop this. As deeply as it made your gut sink, another odd emotion rose to the surface.

A bubbly sensation that tore through you as your tears became less from fear and more from overstimulation.

His hips piston in and out of you, bullying your cervix in this position as he ruts into you like a hound, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he moans and grunts.

You break again, spasm and cinch down on his cock like a vice while you wail as if in mourning. Maybe you are, for yourself at least. “Oh fuck—! s’too much—, please, I can’t—, f-feels good, hah,” your nearly incoherent babbling sends him over the edge along with you, his own dull nails finally drawing blood as he holds you for dear life as he releases deep inside you, tip kissing right up against you womb as he cums. You can feel it too, his cock twitching inside as the night seems to still for a moment.

He holds you for a while. Breathing you in, nuzzling his face into your neck and licking you. He holds you until his cock fully softens and it hurt to be gripped so tightly inside your wet heat, regrettably pulling away.

He stands, putting his sticky limp cock away inside his underwear and pulling up his pants, looking down at your ruined figure that had slumped over to the side.

“Y’know, crybaby… you really resemble an angel now,” he smiles, red eyes almost glowing as the moon blankets his back and shadows his face. His hair seems almost white like this, your tired eyes note. You don’t move or even flinch as he grabs his knife and yanks your limp figure up by your hair. Even now you’re still crying, face lax despite the rivers flowing down your dirty swollen cheeks. You make no effort to stop him, having given up completely.

He crouches down again, mostly eye level now as he makes you look at him.

“You got any last words?” He’s being dead serious. He feels strange looking at the almost glazed over look in your eyes.

“W-what…” your voice is barely a whisper, but the night is so quiet he catches it, “what’s your…name?”

An unexpected question.

His eyes gleam, smile ravenous as he puts his lips against your ear and whispers it.

“Tomura, what’s your name, crybaby?” He asks, gently, almost like he’s actually interested.

You hoarsely whisper it, your last time ever saying it after tonight. He hums, like it pleases him, before he brings down the knife swiftly.

Your vision goes dark, the strike mercifully painless. Your last thoughts blur as you drift into soft nothingness.

He releases your hair, grabbing your limp figure up in his arms as he chuckles and sheaths his knife properly on his hip. “Dumb crybaby” his voice almost singing the words as he whistles and walks away, the park dead silent but even if someone had seen you in his arms, he could just play the good boyfriend taking his sweetheart home safely. It’s not entirely a lie either, his eyes glancing down at your unconscious form, pretty neck unmarred but a bruise would likely form on the back where he struck you tomorrow. Tomura had never felt compelled to allow a victim to live, but then again he’s never fucked a victim either, so you’re the first for a lot. He supposed it made you quite special, his legs carrying him in the direction of his car in the parking lot about a mile south. Obsession and possessiveness swirled in those red depths as they looked at your figure.

“Good girls should just stay home…” he continues his sardonic little tune, his smile gruesome and foreboding.

Vibrant blue orbs check his surroundings again, noting once again his friend was a no show. Rolling his eyes, he knew it was too good to be true. Your profile screamed inexperienced and cautious, despite you clicking that you’d like him to remain anonymous beforehand. It didn’t matter, he’d just go enjoy some sorority girl pussy instead, figuring at 0330 that most parties would be winding down. Drunk girls dressed like sluts were his second favorite.

Dabi clicks the notify option on his app, letting the website staff know you never showed up.

Though, he muses if something did happen, the police wouldn’t be notified until it was too late. Halloween weekend after all meant you could be missing for quite a while before anyone noticed.

Not his problem though.

Post dividers/@cafekitsune

[gloryofroses19]

So It Goes...

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x mate!reader (Reader is apart of the Dawn and Night Court), former lover x reader

T/W: Sexual themes and allusions to sex

Walking out onto the balcony, [y/n] was met with an expectant sight. Tall, handsome but not dark. 

“I didn’t need your protection from that mongrel brute.”

Mother save her from the ego of males, she silently prayed as her eyes rolled.  “Why don’t you admit that you like me?” 

Her traitorous heart skipped a beat as she realized she fell into his trap. His proud challenging gaze and devilish smirk were evidence enough. “You first, Firefly.” 

She supposed she could but was this the time? Leaning on the balcony’s balustrade, she took in the night before her. The balcony held an autumn warmth despite the chill that had set across Day’s desert terrain. 

However, her words of gratitude died on her lips as a touch grazed her upper arm. His heat spread across the lines of her bandages, the only evidence left of the failed assassination attempt. “Why was this not properly healed? Was Thesan too cock drunk to help his childhood friend turned Court emissary?” 

“Do not talk about Thesan that way!” Ripping her arm from his hold, she glared at him. But the outburst was more out of anger for herself than Eris. Anger towards herself for failing to be there for her childhood friend when he had only ever been there for her. Even when she was a traitor to her Court while she helped her family in the Night Court. “The blade was covered in Aspidistra.” She sighed, “He did all he could, but sometimes things need to heal naturally.” 

“And the bodyguard?” The edge to Eris’ voice was not lost on her. She felt the same way when Thesan suggested it. Despite her protests, she knew her friend would only let her attend this meeting if she brought Jax. Beautiful, blonde broad Jax whose smile rivaled the sun. Who only ever wished to shine that light onto her. 

“As a general myself, I didn’t know suffocating you counted as his job.” Eris snidely commented. He knew that this was dangerous, that she was dangerous to both himself and his plans. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Damn the Mother and this female. 

“Am I interrupting something?”  An unapologetic voice spoke, breaking the tension.“Please tell me no because I surely want to join. I would love nothing more than to be between your twin flames.” 

“Lord Helion.” Returning Helion’s smile, [y/n] exhaled the breath she was holding.

“I had to fight your soldier to get in here [y/n].” Joining the pair on the balcony, Helion curiously eyed the fireling heir. “How did you get in here Eris?” 

Eris took a moment to consider. Or rather pretend to consider, his cryptic smile offering no truth. “As lord of this court, you should know of the many doors in this hall.” 

“Yes,” Helion began matching Eris’ smile before glancing at [y/n].  “Especially the ones left purposefully open.” 

As if tired of Eris games, Helion turned his attention fully to [y/n]. Bridging the gap between them, Helion took her hand in his.  “A little flower told me you’ve left your soldier quite unsatisfied in recent months.” 

“My Lilli telling you sordid stories amidst the throes of passion?”  She asked, her tone amused. How it related to her best friend’s fun with Helion she didn’t dare or care to guess. But she didn’t mind that her best friend spoke of her and Jax. She and Jax were a thing of the past and Lord Helion the diary of fae pleasures. 

“Well if you joined us, you could have done it yourself.” As he kissed the back of her hand, [y/n] realized she was wrong. Helion hadn’t been tired of Eris’ smoke and mirrors but rather was toying with Eris. Toying with the intention to figure them out. She wondered if Eris knew. 

With a clearing of his throat, Eris decided he was tired of this farce. He knew it would show weakness but the choice was between a throat clear or ripping Helion’s throat out. 

At the sound of the interruption, Helion’s eyes swept across Eris’ figure. A knowing smile spread across Helion’s face as if the Lord of this Court wouldn’t know what was brewing between them.  

Dropping [y/n]’s hand and stepping back, Helion put his hand over his heart in mock deference. “Forgive me, I’ll leave this healing salve on the table for you [y/n].”  But turning once more back to them, Helion offered a final smile, “Though selfishly,  I did very much enjoy the scent of your arousals.” 

Once Helion was gone, Eris allowed himself the moment to roll his eyes. With his gaze on [y/n], on the soft planes of her face and beautiful eyes, he knew Helion was right. If this was a taste of the smell, he would never survive this. He knew he would never survive them. 

“What?” She demanded, rueing his gaze. “What, Eris?” 

“Nothing,” Moving in closer, Eris traps her between his body and the balustrade, a pregnant space between them. “I just find it curious that he has been left unsatisfied since after the Mountain.”  With a step forward, their bodies almost touch. “Is it because of me?” 

Eris was shameless for her truths. Shameless in knowing that the bond, an ancient and primal thing, demanded nothing but clear devotion from them both. No matter how hard they fought it. 

Looking into his amber eyes, the gold flecks within them seemed to shimmer. The breath she took, didn’t steady her heart as she hoped. Instead, it made her realize how she was a hostage to her feelings in his gold cage. “A lot of things happened after the Mountain.” 

Watching her, Eris realized denial never looked so good on anyone as it did on her. 

“Mmhm,” The sound was a deep pleasant hum, and his lips tilted up teasingly. “And yet your gaze tells me differently.” 

“And what of yours?” She threw it back at him, “You are not above it all Eris. I saw your envy in Jax’s hand on my back, in Cassian’s hug, in Rhysland’s hand kiss, in Helion’s -“ 

His gaze hardened with each mention of a name until the words burst out of his mouth. “I do not need you to remind me of the casual touches you so willingly allow those males.” 

“Why? Say it.” The conflict in his eyes did not dissuade her from pressing further. “The choice is yours, Eris.” All the hardness in her voice softened, “I am yours to keep or I am yours to lose.”

“Vulnerability from the indomitable [full name]?” Eris’ deep voice fell into a conspiring whisper as he softly gazed at [y/n].  

Holding his gaze, [y/n] kept her voice steady. “Sensitivity from the unconscionable Eris Vanserra?” As his name left her mouth, his warm hand cupped her cheek. With each gentle caress, she found herself momentarily obnoxiously frozen beneath his touch.  

Neither of them knew who leaned in first. All they knew was that there was a space between them and then it was dwindling. Knew that they were gazing at each other and then suddenly their eyes were closed as their noses brushed against each other. Knew that they had had their own breaths and then suddenly they were sharing one as their lips brushed against each other’s. 

“We can’t do this.” [y/n] murmured breathlessly, as her fingers brushed the visible skin by his collar. The smooth warm expanse of skin was the only temptation she would give herself as all her strength went to not crushing her lips against his. 

“I know.” Eris wantonly replied, tilting her head to the side allowing him the reprieve of getting closer to her. Of allowing him to nuzzle his nose against hers as he tested his self control of her lips being a fraction of a space away. 

“We must be careful. If anyone were to find out, it would be disastrous.” He forced himself to not think of how sweet she felt in his hands. 

“Yes.” She forced herself to not think of how fast his heart was beating against her hand. 

Neither of them moved from their shared proximity despite those evident truths. With their foreheads leaning against each other, she supposed it would paint quite a pretty picture. She could see it now, Freye would call it ‘The Mating Bond: A Choice’. 

As if the Mother knew neither of them had the strength to separate, the door to her suite opened and closed. While the intrusion was not welcome, it was necessary. 

“Lord Eris.” Like a sunbeam breaking through a cloud, Jax watched out onto the balcony.  “I wasn’t aware sneaking into places was your thing.” 

[y/n] never quite understood when people spoke of a ‘sexy smoldering look’, how can burning slowly be sexy? But a flash, a flash spoke of uninhibited and unconscious things, of involuntary sparks that fan a fire. 

Like the flash of frustration across Eris’ face and the clench of his jaw from this interruption further sparking the flame of arousal burning inside of  her. 

She knew she could rationalize it all away. Maybe it was their placement in the Day Court. A court known for its prioritization of love and pleasure that had kept her in a constant state of arousal since her arrival. Having nothing to do with her brush with death a day ago nor arriving and seeing Eris. Eris who swaggered in looking like a man with nothing but free time to tease her. Or maybe, it was her close proximity to her former lover who once brought her immense pleasure and would do it again, if she only asked.

Or maybe, it was more primitive than that. Maybe having two handsome generals fighting over her and their constant snips for possession of her were going to drive her to insanity. Death by lust, she wondered how many beings died this way. 

“I think it speaks more about your skills than  mine when you left such a wide window of space.” Eris’ derisive tone was a stark contrast to his polite smile. 

Laughing mirthless, Jax clapped his hands behind his back. “Or maybe I let you ‘sneak in’.” 

“Did you?” 

Sensing this would only end badly, [y/n] stepped in between them. “I think it’s time to retire.”

Agreeing with the sentiment, Jax extended his right arm toward the door. “You heard the lady, goodnight lordling.” 

Stepping closer to [y/n] once more, Eris held Jax’s gaze as he leaned in to whisper in [y/n]’s ear.  “You should know by now that I always play to keep. Never to lose, Firefly.” 

And like a flame extinguished, Eris Vanserra winnowed away. Leaving [y/n] cold and short of breath by the implication. When the bond snapped, he called it a game but his words now spoke of intention. An intention to not run or reject the bond. She understood why many spoke of the mating bond as a blessing and a curse. 

“You need to be careful. I trust you, and your decisions but I don’t trust Eris. Why was Eris here? The assassination attempt very well could have been from Autumn, Beron is unpredictable. Or even Rhysland, we don’t truly know the motives of the Night Court.”

More like you don’t know the Night Court motives, she thought as she turned toward the balcony’s view. “Jax, I know Thesan sent you to watch me but I take very good care of myself. The assassin was literally dead before anyone even noticed he was there. You can relax and think of this as a vacation.”

“This is no vacation. You don't even believe that.” He joined her against the balustrade. 

“You’re right,” She sighed, wrapping an arm around herself. “We don’t know a lot, which is why we are here.” It was another pretty lie. 

Placing his hand over hers, Jax spoke with utter devotion. “I am here because I want you to be safe.” 

“Thank you.” It would be so easy to cup his face and enjoy the brush of his scruff against her hand. Easy to accept the offer of marriage sitting on the tip of his tongue. But it would all be a lie. It was after the Mountain. Now his sunshine burned and suffocated her. Now, she craved the warmth from a roaring fire and not a strong sunbeam. “I’m going to bed. If the couch is too rough, you can always take the suite next door.”

“This is Day, [y/n].” He called after her, watching her retreating figure. “These couches are made for comfort.”

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated! This is partly inspired by the song So It Goes by Taylor Swift and the show My Lady Jane

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The Wedding Planners (M) ~Changbin

Pairing: Werewolf!Changbin x Werewolf!F.Reader Themes: Fantasy/Supernatural AU | Smut | Fluff | Established Relationship Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: Planning a wedding was way more stressful than Changbin could’ve ever expected. It seemed so easy at first, like all that was needed was to fulfil a checklist and call it a day, but he realised very quickly that there was a reason for the concept of bride and groomzilla to have been created. [This story is an instalment of my WereRoomies series]. Warnings: mentions of arguments (but it's fine. this is all soft) · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: this was originally going to be a drabble inspired by an ask that an anon sent. however, i felt like moving a bit of the story forward with it, so i upgraded it :^) hope you enjoy!

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Changbin’s WereRoomies Instalments: Finding Comfort in Autumn · Heat · The Love I Always Dreamt Of · The Wedding Planners.

Smut Warnings: unprotected penetration [piv] · creampie · fingering [F.Rec] · oral [F.Rec] · cum-eating/snowballing

Disclaimer: the story presented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

Planning a wedding was way more stressful than Changbin could’ve ever expected. It seemed so easy at first, like all that was needed was to fulfil a checklist and call it a day, but he realised very quickly that there was a reason for the concept of bride and groomzilla to have been created. 

Changbin was a perfectionist to a fault, and so were you. This combination was a recipe for disaster… ‘You want those flowers? Are you serious? Do you even want to get married?’, ‘That tablecloth fabric is atrocious, I can’t believe you’d choose such a thing!’, ‘If there aren’t exactly eight flowers in each table arrangement we can’t even call this a wedding’…

It didn’t matter who said what, both you and Changbin had become absolutely insufferable beings. Not only to each other, but to the people around you as well. Which was why, by the nth month of you both planning your wedding, you’d very smartly agreed to create a proper system, name your must-haves and your absolutely-nots, and to fully hand over all duties to a wedding planner, your bridesmaids, and his groomsmen–who had also agreed it was the best choice for everyone’s sanity.

It’d been the best decision you both could’ve taken, since petty arguments over locations and flowers and tablecloths were most certainly taking a toll in your household’s dynamic. 

Finally, after months, Changbin and you had returned to acting like your normal selves again, and he’d figured, what better way to celebrate this regained freedom than to take his beloved fiancé on an escapade to the mountains?

Changbin was a man of luxury, he was well aware of this. When it came to his loved ones, he spared nothing. So renting a cabin in the middle of the woods for five days and four nights was an insignificant expense when it meant he could spend all that time with you. A time where he wasn’t Changbin the engineer, nor the right hand of an Alpha wolf, nor the groom in a wedding that would soon take place…

It was a time solely reserved for him to be himself, for him to be your mate and fiancé, your future husband, and for you to be his future wife.

His wife…

Every time he thought about it, he felt giddy, he just had to admit it. 

It was just a title, of course. He didn’t love you any less when you were ‘just’ his girlfriend, nor would he love you any differently when you’d legally become his wife, but he still liked the way it sounded. Not only that, but you liked the way it sounded.

Every time he called you his wife, he could just hear the way your heart rate spiked, he could see the big smile on your face…

But, oh, boy… When you called him your husband?

Changbin always felt like he was the luckiest man in the world, like he was ready to run a marathon or become the next Ninja Warrior. 

You were mates, yes. You had mated long ago, and although he was very satisfied with this, the idea of being your husband did things to him. Maybe it was the fact that he spent a lot of his time surrounded by humans, but the prospect of being legally tied to you in their world made his heart swell in his chest.

When you’d arrived earlier than expected to the main lodge three days ago, you’d proudly told the receptionist that ‘My husband has made a reservation for one of your cabins. Do you know if it’s already available?’ he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, nor did he want to.

These three days had been absolutely amazing. You’d had the opportunity to go on runs through the woods together, to stuff yourselves full of delicious food, to have couple massages, and to huddle yourselves inside this cosy cabin to escape the outside world.

The fireplace radiated warmth, which was more than appreciated during these cold months. The gentle crackling produced by it was an immensely relaxing background noise. The fairy lights and many candles distributed throughout the cabin covered the inside of your little safe haven with the gentlest light, and, truly, this was probably the most relaxed Changbin had felt in months.

Especially now, when he could feel your nails digging on his forearms, when your delighted moans joined the sounds of your bodies colliding and the wood burning in the fireplace.

“B–Binnie, b–bunny, b–baby–” 

Oh, you were already dropping the Three Bs on him, and that only made him want to rail you more.

Yes, Changbin was usually the more submissive one in the bedroom, that was no secret to either of you, but sometimes, the alpha in him just wanted to satisfy you, just like the omega in you wanted to be satisfied…

Was there a better way to do that than to have you in a mating press right there by the fireplace? 

There just wasn’t.

“Hm?” He grasped at the soft faux-fur rug under you, trying to ground himself. If he focused too much on the vice-grip of your cunt, or the blissed-out expression on your face, he’d just come.

He was so fucking close… He’d been for a while now, but he was enjoying himself too much, he just needed to prolong this for as long as possible. It wasn’t like he couldn’t have you like this again later, on the contrary, he was sure he was going to, but he was horny and an idiot and you felt so good and the sound of the dainty ‘C’ charm on your anklet tinkling next to his ear was just so enticing…

“You’re so–Fuck…–you’re so good, b–baby…” Even if you were looking at him, your eyes had lost focus a long time ago. If he looked hard enough, he could’ve sworn your blown pupils had taken the shape of two cute little hearts. “I love you, love you…”

You repeated yourself over and over again, and Changbin couldn’t help but swear under his breath. He took your calves off of his shoulders and leaned into you so he could hold you close. With an arm under your neck and his forearm planted on the floor for stability, he resumed his steady pace. “Lo–love you, too… Love you, pup…”

Your quiet whimpers so close to his ear were bringing him to the edge at an alarming rate, and he was incapable of keeping his own moans in check with how aggressively his insides were burning up.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so, so, so fucking close…” He mumbled against your hair, speeding the movement of his hips and increasing the strength of his thrusts.

“Yes! Please, please come… Want–Binnie, I want your puppies so badly, please–!”

His brain fogged up immediately, and he started to feel dizzy. “Yeah? My wife wants to be full of my pups?”

“Fuck, yes!” You dug your nails on his buttocks, and the sting alone almost made him blow. “Please, please, my– my alpha, my husband–”

“Oh, shit–!”

An animalistic growl resonated throughout the small cabin when he came. The sound quickly turned into desperate moans as he kept fucking bucket-loads of his cum into your hole. He was too far gone, too overcome with pleasure and warmth.

He didn’t stop moving until your slick walls had milked every single drop he had to offer, and even then, he kept pumping himself into you, just to make sure…

Well, it wasn’t like you’d be getting pregnant, since your birth control had been very efficiently doing its job for months and months now, but his instincts didn’t care about that. All his inner wolf cared about was to try his best for it to stick.

It wasn’t until the mild sting of overstimulation started to settle in that he pulled his cock out, but swiftly replaced it with two of his fingers before he was moving down your body and attaching his lips to your puffy clit. 

Oh, how heavenly it felt when he had you in his mouth… When you grasped at his hair and started gasping because of his tongue. His ears were still ringing, and he was still dizzy, but he needed to make you come, too. He was dying to feel you clamp around his fingers and hear you moan his name over and over again.

“O–oh, Changbin, fuck–!”

More.

He needed more. 

Before he knew it, he was sucking and licking your clit like a starved man, fucking you with his fingers to stimulate that area within your walls that had your thighs trembling around his head and your grip on his hair tightening. 

And, of course, you gave him more. Every moan, every sigh, every whimper was either a pet name, or a version of his name, or just a sound of pure pleasure and he was on absolute cloud nine. 

“Bun–bunny, I’m coming–”

Changbin could barely perceive the sounds coming out of his throat. He’d been groaning and moaning against your folds since he’d settled camp here. But when your walls started fluttering deliciously around his fingers, you managed to pull another growl out of him, and your whole body just trembled in response.

He stopped lapping at your clit when you’d patted his head with a whine. Pulling out his fingers, he revelled in the creamy mix of your climaxes coating his digits. His eyes found yours before he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean.

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you bit on your bottom lip as a smile started to spread across your face. Changbin loved to see that twinkle in your eye, to hear your body’s responses to him and his actions. They always made him feel proud of himself, and like you were the only person in this world for him.

He supposed you were. 

Never had he romantically loved someone this much, and at this point, he didn’t want to love anyone else romantically like this ever again. For him, it was just you. Every day, he was reminded that he was ready to spend the rest of his life with you.

As soon as he noticed his cum starting to spill out of your cunt, he immediately started cleaning you up with his tongue. He made sure to collect as much as he could in his mouth before he pressed a final, tender kiss to your clit and made his way up your body again.

With a satisfied sigh and your fingers buried in his hair, you pulled him in, sealing your mouths in a sloppy, loving kiss that had his brain almost disintegrating in his skull.

Changbin let his weight fall on you, and you simply wrapped your limbs around his body and squeezed him tight.

As the kiss slowed down and turned to tender pecks, Changbin hummed, pleased. Not only because of the body-rocking orgasm he’d just had, but because he was just so incredibly in love with you.

When he pulled away and his eyes found yours, he couldn’t help but appreciate how the reflection of the fairy lights sparkled in your eyes. His cheeks heated up at the sight, and a small giggle escaped his mouth before he was pressing another brief kiss on your lips. 

“Y’know”, you mumbled, burying your fingers in his hair when he shuffled a bit so he could lay his head on your chest. “Coming here was an excellent idea”.

“Mmm… Of course. It was my idea”, Changbin laughed when you pulled on his hair at his comment, and pressed a kiss to your chest right after.

“Duh, what would we do without your huge brain, Bin”.

He pulled himself away from your chest and planted both hands next to your head to look down at you. “I don’t appreciate the hints of sarcasm in that sentence, puppy”.

He was, of course, joking. The splitting smile on his face was a great indicator of that. The comment made you chuckle.

“Me? Being sarcastic about these things? Never”, a smile tugged at your lips, and you brought your hands to hold his waist. “But seriously, though. I couldn’t even recognise myself the last few months… It’s been awful”.

“It really has been. I couldn’t recognise myself, either. I’m really happy we can be here together. It’s like our pre-honeymoon!”

“Oh, my God, the honeymoon…” You sighed dreamily, squeezing his sides. “We’re really gonna be gone for two whole weeks…”

“Mm. Two whole weeks of you, me, and all those tourist traps we’re gonna visit”.

“All those tourist traps we’re gonna visit as husband and wife”, you giggled, wrapping your arms around his middle. “I can’t wait”.

“Me neither”, Changbin didn’t think he could smile any wider. The thought genuinely made him so, so happy, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain all these feelings within himself for long. “Anyway, how d’you feel about a warm bath?”

“That is another amazing idea for sure”, you chuckled, hanging onto Changbin with all of your limbs so he could stand up from the floor with you wrapped around him.

That warm bath was absolutely lovely. The way you caressed his hair and lovingly left trails of kisses on his face, arms, and shoulders had his heart swelling with adoration. Plus, getting to pamper you as well always left his inner wolf with a metaphorical wagging tail, so he stepped out of that bathroom feeling light, like he was walking on clouds.

With your bodies dry and fluffy robes over your frames, Changbin held onto you from behind as you both waddled back to the fireplace so you both could lay down again. 

He tried his best to choose a clean spot before he dropped a cushion on the floor for him to lay his head on, and pulled you into his arms. On the very first night here, you’d both mutually decided that you didn’t care about paying the extra cleaning fees for this rug…

Changbin exhaled a satisfied sigh once you had buried your face in his neck and hugged him close.

You inhaled deeply, almost dreamily, and the tender kiss you left on his pulse point had a small smile appearing on his face. 

“I really do love your scent…” You mumbled, letting your lips graze against his skin with every word. “I never thought I’d find so much comfort in an alpha’s scent. But yours is just so… ugh, I just looove it”.

Changbin could feel heat creep on his face, making him blush, and since words failed him, he just pressed a loud kiss on your forehead to show some appreciation for your words.

“I was thinking…” You mumbled after a while, cuddling closer to his side and draping a leg over his torso.

“Mm?”

“Y’know… About puppies…”

Changbin’s ears perked up, and his heart did a flip in his chest. “…Yeah?”

“D’you think Chris would have any problems if another couple in the pack had pups first?” You mumbled, tracing shapes with your index finger on his clothed chest.

What an interesting question… Would Chris have any problems with that? 

He was The Alpha of their pack, their leader, and tradition dictated that the alpha must be the first one to reproduce and bring pups to the pack. However… Chris wasn’t particularly traditional.

Chris had never really enforced anything on their packmates other than a few barely existing rules here and there, not only that but he had a human mate–yes, yes, he hadn’t claimed his girlfriend yet, but there was no doubt in Changbin’s mind that his dear best friend was going to do it at some point anyway. As far as Changbin had seen, having a human mate meant that their relationship would definitely go at a much slower pace than it’d go between werewolves.

Knowing Chris, and knowing his girlfriend, he was sure there wouldn’t be pups from them coming anytime soon. 

“Chris… I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t mind”, Changbin said after a while, caressing your hair. “I could be mistaken… To be honest, I’m not, but I could be, so it’s something you could always ask him if you’re curious… Why?”

You hummed in response, and remained silent for a bit. Your hand slipped into his robe, and the shapes you’d been tracing over the fluffy fabric were now leaving a fiery trace on the skin of his chest, right over his heart.

Puppies… Changbin had thought about puppies before. Years ago, he would’ve never imagined himself as a father. He was a wreck, he didn’t have the emotional maturity to care for a child in the way they needed. Back then, that was… Nowadays, though…

“Would you… would you like to try for puppies?”

Your voice startled him. It went through his eardrum and spread all over his body, reaching his heart to accelerate its pumping. Puppies… Your puppies…

Changbin pulled himself away from you a bit, enough so he could prop himself on his elbow and look you in the eyes. You were looking straight at him, but he could tell you were nervous about what you were asking, and he realised then that he’d been quiet for a bit too long.

“Yes”.

“Yes?” The shock in your voice almost made him laugh. Were you doubting it?

“Of fucking course, puppy. Have our own litter?” He was almost shaking with excitement at the thought. “It’s like a dream. Our puppies, you and I…”.

A bright smile made its way onto your face, and in no time, you had straddled his waist and started peppering kisses on his cheeks, making him giggle.

“Our puppies, you and I…” You repeated, just before you planted a loud, wet kiss on his lips. “It really does sound like a dream”.

Well, nowadays, Changbin believed he could be a parent, especially if it involved you.

It seemed like that honeymoon was not only gonna be spent as a husband and wife visiting tourist traps, but also mating like dogs until that dream became a reality. It was very clear that you were both absolutely looking forward to it.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

Constructive feedback (or even keysmashes, really) is always welcome :) feel free to leave your comments in the caption/tags when you reblog, or by sending me an ask !

General Masterlist | Ko-Fi Changbin’s WereRoomies Instalments: Finding Comfort in Autumn · Heat · The Love I Always Dreamt Of · The Wedding Planners.

[azsazz]

Bloody Knuckles and the Songs of Death (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is everything that Azriel is not. Opposite feelings but equal death in the end.

AKA: Half a rewrite of chapters 43-47 of ACOWAR where reader is now there as part of the Autumn Court, excited to meet Azriel. The other half are my own ideas.

Warnings: Major themes of death and torture, ACOWAR spoilers (previous parts), blood, gore, mentions of abuse, smut.

Word Count: 2,070

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

_________________________________________

His admission is searing against your lips. A promise, made by the Taker of Death himself, cold and honest and true.

A bargain.

By warm and cold death themselves.

The moan that slips from your throat is animalistic. You surge onto the tips of your toes, shoving yourself as close as you can to him, body to body, your fingers sliding into his hair in a desperate move.

Death meets again. 

Azriel’s body is cold against your own, cold like the breeze sweeping across the very balcony in which you stand, glued to him like a craving finally fulfilled after so long. His fingers curl around your hips and then he’s stumbling back a step, two, drawing you towards the doors leading back into your rooms.

Something awakens inside of you when he grips the back of your gown and rips it wide open, your fingers scratching at his skin. You gasp against his lips, his tongue dipping into your mouth, tasting his blood on your teeth.

He’s drunk off of your taste already. If Azriel weren’t the embodiment of death itself he would be afraid. Afraid of the way that he’s relishing in you. The way that you breathe is like the last breath from a mutilated body, one he’s just gotten done prying open in every way possible, the final burst of heat withering from their soul. Your touch is as hot as blood pouring from a wound, and when you shove your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and fist his silken cock, he feels reincarnated.

And him, he feels colder than a heartless body but oh so right against your skin. The shreds of your nightgown fall from your arms but you can hardly force yourself away from his to let the fabric slip to the ground. When you do, his golden eyes roam your skin as he works the buttons on his own shirt, an icy shiver licking up your spine at the intensity—the familiarity—of them. It makes you feel alive, so cold in a way it’s as if you’re facing the very fires of autumn you know so dearly now.

Until his gaze halts on the handprint around your arm.

You flinch as Azriel’s gaze hardens, the lust draining from his eyes. You try to twist your arm behind your back but his shadows are racing outwards like a lance, cinching around your limbs and pulling them taut, your skin fully exposed to his lethal stare.

“Don’t,” you plead, and all of a sudden you’re no longer one of the most feared females in this court. You’re a female who has had her rights stripped, freedom forced from her for a taste of the outside world. You had been trapped so long in the cells of the Oaks that you hadn’t properly thought about what the High Lord of Autumn was asking of you at the time, what you would have to give up for yourself, when he said that he would release you. You had agreed, unaware of all of the plans he’d already set forth for you to finish.

“What. Happened.” His shadows lacing his deep growl leave no room for argument. He sounds as brash as death itself.

But his touch is soft. Those marred fingers, brushing across the ravaged skin of your arm. His promise raking over the foolish one you had made so long ago. Azriel’s fingers feel like a loving caress of death, one that makes your thighs quake. Death himself, before you in the very flesh, so gentle, unlike yourself.

His golden eyes pin you in place more so than the shadows wrapped tightly around your limbs. He’s awaiting your answer, patient, as death always is.

You swallow harshly, but don’t break his gaze. The thought of the mark on your arm fills you with fire; hot, uncontrollable flames that make you want to set blazes to the forests of autumn, burn the High Lord’s court to the ground.

But you can’t do that to Eris. Killing his father will put everyone in a safer position, but exterminating the court as a whole would not bode well for any of you. Especially not with war on the cusp of the continent.

You itch to have your taste so freely fed. Thousands of souls for you to take, blood to bathe in, screams to sing. It makes your teeth itch.

“I made a very bad bargain,” you admit, lowering your chin. You cannot look at Azriel, not like this. Not when he’s looking back at you like he very well might throttle every member with the Vanserra name in your honor. “With a very bad male.” 

He knows. You’ve told him you belong to Beron but not how you belong to him. How you’d been brought from the Oaks to do his bidding. How you’ve been under his lock for centuries.

If your love for death was lesser, you’d hate yourself more.

It’s not right to feel the way you do. When Beron has forced you to kill innocents, it was not the extravagant warmth you crave flooding your skin. It was nothing of the sort. You are used to death’s cradle, warm and lush and tasty. None of those kills had been deserved. They were nothing more than cold, heartless slaughters forced by your hand by the High Lord of Autumn.

“I will kill him,” Azriel promises again, jaw set in a firm line. He continues brushing over the handprint singed deeply into your skin. His free hand gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

And then he’s pressing that promise to your lips, sealing his vow with a kiss of death.

“The kill is yours, shadowsinger,” you agree against his lips. You delve your tongue into his mouth, kissing him harshly. The thanks that’s stuck in your throat is given to him like this. Azriel gives you his word not with the promise of night-dark ink against your skin nor a burn into your flesh. He seals his promise with the taste of you on his tongue, his fingers at your nape, and will do it with his cock in your cunt.

Desperation flares like a beating heart, pumping full with blood. You’re ravenous for him, for his words, for his actions. For Death himself. He feels like the half of your soul you’ve been missing for centuries, like the other half of the death you’ve always known you belong to. The iciness of his body against yours is otherworldly, the chill from his bones mixing with the warmth of your own makes your head spin.

“When you were inside of me,” Azriel starts, and it’s gruff. His words heat your cheeks and you gasp as your nipples tighten, brushing against his shirt. He’s still fully clothed but you are already undone before him, ready to give yourself over to the death that makes you feel whole. You realize that he’s referring to the High Lord’s meeting when you’d slipped past his defenses and into his mind, halting him from pummeling Eris into the ground. “How did you do it?”

“Nothing can stop death,” you breathe, sliding his shirt from his chest. He’s magnificent, the hard muscles packing his body from centuries of training. He’s tan all the way down to the cutting lines where his trousers meet his hips, and your mouth waters a little when you think about his cock that is pressing fully against his fabric. Kissing your way across his collarbones and down his chest, you continue. “You will find, Death, that if you so choose to stop me, you can.”

“Don’t stop,” he growls, hissing when you lap across his nipple and roll it between your teeth. His fingers stroke icy lines down your skin until he’s cupping your cunt, fingers sliding between your seams to feel your wetness. “Gods, you’re so wet for me.”

“Have been since I first laid eyes on you,” you admit, distracted by undoing his pants. He’s strapped with weapons but there’s something inside of him that doesn’t care should you wrap your fist around one and plunge it straight into his gut. “I’ve been waiting for death to claim me for years. And here you are.”

Azriel watches as you sink to your knees, drawing his pants down with you. His cock springs up, hard and hot and ready. He can’t get the words out before you’re mouthing at the deep lines of his hips, following to where they’re pointing, licking at the base of his cock.

“Death,” he warns you, using the same nickname you’ve been using for him, but you’re not listening. The feeling of your warm lips against his shaft is intoxicating, and he fists the hair at the back of your neck as you suckle at his tip, flicking your tongue against his slit in a teasing manner. He wants to pick you up and fling you onto the bed, mount you like the raging beast inside of him wants. He’s going to claim you so thoroughly you won’t be able to part from him ever. He can feel the stirring in his chest, the feeling burrowed deep within his aching soul.

“Claim me,” you beg him, sucking down his length as far as it will go. Azriel chokes, hips bucking without his permission and you’re moaning around him, pressing closer, eagerly. He uses the hand on the back of your head to help you, guiding you so far down his cock that your nose meets his hips.

You’re dripping onto the floor beneath your feet. You’re already so full, the missing piece of you found. His length is smooth of your tongue, slick down your throat as you bob. The sounds of his cock down your throat are lewd, as are his reactions to your movements. You feel like you can’t breathe, your chest aching with lust. Your thighs are pressed so tightly your writhing does nothing to stimulate your clit, and when you reach your hands down to relieve yourself, Azriel pulls himself away.

“I’m going to touch you,” he grunts, lifting you off of your feet. His mouth crashes against yours in a heated kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. His hands pull you close to his body but you’re clinging to him just as tightly. He keeps you suspended right above his cock, the head of it brushing your entrance as he walks you both toward the bed.

You mewl, undulating your hips to try and force yourself down. Azriel isn’t having it, though. He tosses you onto the bed and doesn't let you catch your breath as he climbs up after you, a predatory look in his golden gaze as he nudges your legs wide with strong hands, devouring the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Fucking perfect,” he nearly groans, all but collapsing between your spread limbs. He’s a desperate man, no better than any other as he buries his head there without a second thought, cock aching dangerously at the surprised moan you release. It makes his shadows sing, and the way your hands find his hair immediately, pulling him into you as you grind just as urgently has him near bursting.

You taste better than anything he’s ever dared try. Better than the blood of his enemies, better than the souls he collects. Your taste will forever be ingrained in his memory, and he hopes, once he kills Beron for you, your taste will forever be on his tongue.

“Azriel,” your moan is throaty, a hardly there noise in your ears, drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through your veins. You know you’ve screamed it for all of the patrons of Thesean’s estate to hear, perhaps even his court. You’re lucky that Eris and his incorrigible family have left you here tonight. You’ve found yourself an assassin, a lover, and maybe even a mate. You cum with a noise that could awaken every body you’ve helped put in the ground. Shadows wreath your vision, vignetting it in darkness. Azriel’s hands dig into the meat of your thighs as you try and clench them because he is not done with you yet. Nor will he be when his cock has dipped into your slick, nor will he be when you’re spent, limp with pleasure against his chest. Nor will he be when he finally—finally—has you all to himself.

[verysium]

blu lock top artists on Spotify??? i need your thoughts on it

anon you had me pulling up my spotify playlists and browsing through the entirety of genius.com for three hours straight. i'm going to tweak this prompt a little bit and include specific songs that best represent them since it's easier for me to explain that way.

RIN

the fanon answer for this is chase atlantic. while their songs do encapsulate parts of his personality (mostly the edgy teenager and disillusioned youth persona), i feel like this choice does not do his full character justice.

the canon answer for this is king gnu, more specifically the song "prayer x." i can picture this since rin seems like the type to enjoy alternative rock/indie, but the fact that it's the ending theme to banana fish is what gets to me. like...do you see yourself in ash or something? i hope you don't cus it doesn't end well. that anime had me bawling my eyes out for months, and i still can't think about it without breaking down again.

furthermore, the lyrics and music video to this song are very cryptic and borderline nihilistic. for example, "hiding behind this nonchalant smile" and "my life's spark will wink out of existence." i feel like this speaks volumes about rin's mental health and internal thought process. he obviously does not process his emotions normally and instead represses them. he also struggles with the idea of finding a purpose in what is otherwise a cyclical routine with no end. he's worried and, quite frankly, afraid that if he ever stops pursuing his dream, everything will come crumbling down, and he will have to face all the demons he's avoided for so long. the main theme here is that he cannot face his reality (the fact that sae's dream is not his own.) so he does everything in order to escape this fact even if it ultimately destroys him.

from my own playlists, i'd assign him the following songs/artists:

"beautiful boy" by john lennon

this is a love letter to baby rin. i feel like he would've enjoyed this song as either a lullaby or something he listened to on car rides to the beach during summer vacations. he probably still listens to this when it's raining outside or he's had a bad day. reminds him of his childhood and the good parts of it.

"the love club" by lorde

this is something pre-teen rin listened to. the irony is spot-on, and i feel like the lyrics would be relevant during a time when he was going through his rebellious phase and fully fleshing out his place in society. in this instance, the club would metaphorically be wherever his brother is at, whether that's the guys sae meets in spain or the group of football players considered "top-notch" in japan. everything is about finding a place in this club/clique in an effort to become free and differentiate himself from others. the only problem is that rin ironically loses his freedom because he tries so hard to be among the best. he signs his life away in pursuit of a dream, and it's something that now defines him.

"the only problem i got with the club / is how you're severed from the people / who watched you grow up"

this lyric in particular could apply to either one of the itoshi brothers. it's one of the caveats that comes with fame. you gain everything, but you lose everything before that. both of the itoshis likely experienced some amount of separation from their loved ones, including each other. also lorde's vocals are beautiful as always, so there's no reason not to include this song.

"howlin' 404" by DEAN

the production for this song is on point. the intro has a segment from a 1930s american horror radio program which is fitting because rin canonically watches horror movies. i think this song is something rin might listen to during cold autumns or midnights when he just can't sleep.

lyrically, there is the motif of a time loop which is also present in "prayer x." rin's character itself just has this connection with the raw grittiness of existentialism and this idea of repeating days without purpose. (in fact, he would make a great psychological thriller lead.) rin is also a control freak. if he lets one loose end go, it will unravel the entire thing. that matches up with the idea of "killing me softly." rin would rather prolong his pain than have it ripped from him all at once and leave him with nothing. i find this in a lot of people in real life too. even if your trauma wasn't good for you, it sometimes becomes the only thing you truly own. it's like that one quote from bojack horseman. "if i don't, that means that all the damage i got isn't good damage, it's just damage." rin feels like he has something to prove, and if he fails, all his suffering would've been for nothing.

"moonchild" by RM

i may be a bit biased since i love the mono mixtape, and i've written a rin fic about celestial bodies, but....this song just fits him. there's also a remarkable similarity with the lyrics of the previous songs i've listed. i'm just going to list a few:

"smiling in endless pain / you know / there's no freedom when you say freedom out loud"

one thing i love about RM is that he doesn't shy away from character flaws. he writes songs specifically for those who are always picked last, who aren't remarkable in any way, who feel weighed down by their normality. he gives them their spotlight and due diligence. for example, the entirety of the chorus is a repeat of "moonchild, you shine." i find this interesting since it's usually the sun that shines. but the sun is already sae, and rin is relegated to being the moon. yet even though the moon doesn't have its own light (it merely reflects the sun), it still shines bright in the darkness. rin doesn't know it yet, but he himself is a big role model for others such as isagi, his fans, and people just like him. so yeah....i'd take this song as a message of hope for future rin.

SAE

the fanon answer is lana del rey, and i would agree to a certain extent. under the right circumstances, he could become one of those dreamy, emotionally stunted, and tired men you guys all lust over. if y/n ever wrote a romantic song about him, it would be either "west coast" (for the spanish influences) or "art deco" (for the vibes.)

the headcanon answer is nothing. i don't think he listens to music much. even if he did, it would be probably classical/instrumental or just white noise for his long flights. i imagine him listening to erik satie's "gymnopédie no. 3" on a train ride or something.

from my own playlists, i'm going to give him these songs/artists:

"remind me" by röyksopp

i don't know how to explain this, but this song gives a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. think early 2000s when the TV footage was still grainy and had retro graphics. you're carrying around your mini mp3 player whilst wandering through the airport and wondering how the hell you even ended up there. that's the general ambience of this song.

lyrically, the song also matches well with sae. i'm going to give you a few examples:

"it's only been a week / the rush of being home in rapid fading"

again, this is a tribute to the disconnection sae feels from his home. he goes everywhere, but he belongs nowhere. when he finally returns to japan, he finds himself missing spain. when he's in madrid, he thinks about the ocean back in kamakura. there never is a place that truly fills that gaping hole in his chest. i also feel like sae experiences FOMO on a whole other level. he constantly feels like something is wrong/missing and he's not doing enough.

"brave men tell the truth / the wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles"

the idea here is that though sae is blunt with his words, he is a coward with his intentions/true feelings. he can brutally call out someone without hesitation, but to actually reveal his own truths and motives? he'd rather shrivel up in a hole and die. this is especially applicable to love. to him, a wise man is someone who doesn't open his heart up easily. instead, he hints at his feelings, and whether or not you can figure that out is on you. sae hates it when others play games with him. it's where his hypocrisy lies. he demands straightforward honesty from others, but he himself will unintentionally play games with you if it means he can hide himself behind his walls.

"a woman holds her tongue / knowing silence will speak for her"

this is the closest you guys are ever going to get to sae itoshi's ideal type. he loves people who don't need to say something for him to believe it. they just get it. your silence is automatically enough for him to know that you love him. similarly, you don't even need to speak a word to understand what he's feeling.

"night shift" by lucy dacus

this song is sae if he was that one ex-boyfriend who really fucked you up emotionally, and you never got over him even though you said you did. now that i think about it, the story could be told from either POV. this could be sae trying to erase you from his mind, or it could also be you post-breakup.

"you've got a 9 to 5 / so i'll take the night shift / and i'll never see you again / if i can help it"

i know this one lyric caused controversy all over tiktok, so i'm going to add my own interpretation. at face value, this is exactly what it says it is. sae doesn't want to see you again, nor do you. he's willing to go out of his way just to avoid you, and truthfully he would. when sae finds himself in trouble, he doesn't look for something new to fix him. instead, he cuts everything off and subtracts anything that is deadweight. if you're out of his life, then you're out of his life. he's not coming back for you (or at least that's what he says to convince himself). same thing with rin. he knows he hurt rin, but he's not going to go back and try to make it right. he's going to move on and try to justify his actions every step of the way. one day, rin will move on too, and then sae would have been right all along. (unfortunately, that is not the way things work, but that's a lesson for another time.)

the alternative interpretation is that y/n is the other woman. this could be literal as in sae already has someone else in his life, and he only sees you at night. you're only ever going to be the night shift. it could also be metaphorical as in you're merely a distraction in the grand scheme of things. you're the mistress, but football is his wife if that makes sense. his career will always take precedence.

"you get me so high" by the neighborhood

this song is all the words sae wished he said to rin but never did. it made me cry because everything would have been so different if they had just set aside their pride and truthfully sought each other out.

"hope you don't regret it / i pushed a lot back but i can't forget it"

repressing feelings seems to be a recurring issue with the itoshi brothers. like....maybe if i just push it out of sight, it will also go out of mind. and at its core, this all stems from fear. fear of facing the consequences, the hypotheticals, the terrifying realization that you did something you regret and there really is no turning back from it. but realistically, if you think about it, a lot of this is the byproduct of overthinking. sometimes the situation isn't as complicated as we might make it out to be. sometimes an apology doesn't fix everything, but it's a proposition to be something more, an attempt at a solution. but sae and rin are so blindsided by their own internal turmoil that they cannot see this.

"for a long time i took it all for granted / i really thought we had it / but at the time it was more than i could manage"

ah....the "taking for granted" part. i could ramble on about that for hours. i think it really is some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy that we never miss something until it's gone. and in a way, it's not something that we can always control. the value you assign to a person/object when you have it is going to be fundamentally different from the value you assign to it when it's no longer in your grasp. that's how scarcity works. something with a limited supply is always going to be worth more. the vice versa works as well. you might yearn after something but then throw it away the moment you finally have it and grow tired of it. this sort of dilemma that comes with appreciation is so common i really wouldn't blame the itoshi brothers for what they did. it is immensely difficult to know when you're going to lose something or when you need to let it go. and sometimes it's hard to be constantly grateful for what you have because many of us are wired to want something more. tbh that's what makes the itoshis relatable.

"if we can leave it all behind us / and meet in between"

now sae would never say this unless he himself had actually reflected on what happened and fully processed it. but maybe in the future, they could set aside their differences and reach out to each other. (this is how i cope)

"but i just had to let you know / i never meant to hurt you, though / i had all my motives / i didn't know they wouldn't mix with your emotions / i just had to reach my goals / never knew i'd meet you though"

that's the thing with personal ambition. sometimes you get so caught up in yourself, you forget all about others. and this isn't really selfishness, or at least intentional selfishness. it just sort of happened that way. you never meant to hurt them, but you still somehow did.

"we should stick together / you're my best friend / i'll love you forever"

yeah....this line was the one that did it for me. something about the dysfunctional sibling dynamic just eats away at my insides. like....i could've loved you, we could've been so much together, but why aren't we? what we have isn't hate, but it isn't the love i know and crave either.

"we could be the greatest / it doesn't matter if we're never rich or famous"

ok but if rin ever heard this leave sae's lips, i think all of his trauma would just be magically healed. he just wants his brother to see him. like fully see him and love him. but alas, what is blue lock without angst, am i right?

"love in the dark" by adele

now i don't think sae would ever listen to adele, but the lyrics are just too fitting. i was going to write a fic on this, but it's going to have to ferment a bit in the drafts for now. basically this is the entire rin/sae traumatic scene but as a melodramatic torch song with adele's heavenly vocals.

"take your eyes off of me so i can leave / i'm far too ashamed to do it with you watching me"

um...this is literally sae's internal monologue??? i feel like letting go of things is something both the itoshi brothers struggle with. their lives are constantly pulling them in different directions, and eventually they become numb to it all. they don't form any strong attachment to anything besides football because that's the one thing that won't change for them. in a way, this is necessary for their character development (in the sense that they need to discern for themselves what to keep and what to let go), but it also destroys any sense of belonging they might have (hence why they feel lonely.)

"don't try to change my mind / i'm being cruel to be kind"

sae would definitely say this. like word for word. if only he wasn't a vague dumbass with no communication skills.

"i can't love you in the dark / it feels like we're oceans apart"

this is literally their dynamic in one lyric. there is the physical distance, and then there's the emotional distance.

"we're not the only ones, / i don't regret a thing / every word i've said, / you know i'll always mean"

this sort of reminds me when sae said that the world is huge, and there's so many players way better than him out there. i think spain really gave him a reality check, and he grew angry at rin when rin couldn't understand his disillusionment.

"everything changed me / and i don't think you can save me"

adele sort of echoes this softly at the end of the song. i feel like sae would do that too. he wouldn't admit his own insecurities until the very end, and only then does the truth come out.

"i'll sleep when i'm older" by bruno major

this is sae when he's older and fully mature, preferably after he meets you. he finally decides to damn it all and do what he wants.

"conversations with elders and the wisdom they bring ... / the view from an aeroplane at twelve thousand feet"

sae views things that previously annoyed him in a new light. he used to hate his elders, but he visited you and your mother once, and something changed within him. now he calls his parents more often, and his eyes linger on the old couples near the park benches. sometimes, his gaze softens just a bit when he imagines the two of you growing old just like them.

flights used to be a mundane part of his routine, but now he finds himself leaning over your window seat to see the mountains down below. the clouds and sunny weather set him aglow. and you just look so pretty when you fall asleep on his shoulder. he doesn't ever want this change.

"meet god on a mountain top along with the stars / find love somewhere, anywhere / fall deep from the start"

sae used to avoid love, but now he's running at it full-force. people tend to shy away from making sae a romantic because it seems too ooc. however, in the right situation, i think sae could entirely abandon his previous ideals and become someone else entirely. (that's why it's called a character evolution guys.)

"misplace my mind and follow my heart"

again, if you're able to make sae lose all rationality and let his heart guide him instead, then you've really done something. kudos to you for penetrating the walls of the coldest asshole known to mankind.

"i'll be a firework, not a flickering flame / treat life all around me like a one-player game"

this one lyric applies both to younger and older sae. younger sae is someone unafraid of risking it all if it means he can achieve something worthwhile. it doesn't matter how many players he has to defeat, how many people he has to leave behind. in this world, it is just him and the goal he has to accomplish.

however, after he's mellowed out after a few years (i'd say around middle age), he probably reinterprets this as something else. he's not going to constrain himself to his tunnel vision anymore. there's so much more to life than that.

"i'll go to the party and forget all the names / should it climb back to haunt me, / it ends all the same"

sae finally lets himself live the life he never thought he'd have. he does stupid things like get drunk and make a fool of himself. but you're there for him, so he doesn't really care. in fact, he can finally say that for the first time in a long time....he's having fun.

KAISER

the fanon answer is the weeknd. i'm not going to lie, i completely agree with this one. i saw this one edit of him to "party monster," and i can say i have been fully enlightened and converted. however, this is not just about a toxic male manipulator anthem. it's much more than that.

this is about running away from the ugliest parts of yourself, becoming a slave to your vices, knowing you're broken somewhere and you can never fix it. i would say his character is most similar to "starboy" in the fact that he literally flaunts everything he has to hide the fact that deep down inside, he really has nothing else to hold onto. "starboy" is all about the status symbol (money, red lamborghinis, glass table girls turning into ebony table girls lol). but at the end of the day, he doesn't really have anything except an empty heart and a satirical quip for all those who made him famous. the same theme applies to "the morning" and "house of balloons."

in the romantic sense, i think "don't break my heart" would represent kaiser. and no, this is not a justification for him being an f-boy. it's more so an exploration of why people might think he is an f-boy. i do not condone his actions, but i do try to understand them. in particular, i feel like the lyrics of "sacrifice" also fit him well.

"i was born in a city / where the winter nights don't ever sleep / so this life's always with me / the ice inside my veins will never bleed"

i headcanon kaiser as being born in either berlin or munich. and if you don't know anything about those two places, just know that you freeze your ass off during wintertime. i think it's interesting how his past could be intrinsically tied with a place, and he takes a piece of his past self with him wherever he goes. the ice in veins part also made me think about how kaiser would rather freeze up every weakness within himself than let them run free and make him human.

"every time you try to fix me / i know you'll never find that missing piece"

guys...did you hear that? to all you delusional people out there, this is your service announcement. you cannot fix someone who does not want to be fixed. write that down and memorize it. all meaningful change starts with a shift in mindset, and if they themselves are not in the right headspace to recognize that something is wrong and actively want to change, you're not going to get anywhere. so yeah....kaiser is not going to change unless HE starts doing the changing.

"i hold you through the toughest parts / when you feel like it's the end / 'cause life is still worth living"

i think this lyric sort of explores kaiser's dynamic with ness. on one front, he is the one picking ness up from his miserable past and instilling a sense of hope into him (intentionally or not.) but on another front, this could also be a problem. kaiser is almost forcefully optimistic in the way that he believes anything is possible. it has to be possible because there can be no other way. but the thing is.....you have to know your limits sometimes. blind optimism is, ironically, similar to cornering yourself.

"i can break you down and pick you up / and fuck like we are friends / but don't be catching feelings"

this is definitely the type of bullshit kaiser would spew. i could picture a fwb or situationship with him where y/n just constantly receives the short end of the stick. now this may be reaching, but i also feel like this is how kaiser projects his own trauma onto others. he himself clawed his way up to the top and put himself back together every time he fell down. the problem is that he also expects you to be that resilient. he's going to treat you badly because you're supposed to be like him: someone who can overcome everything and strive towards the impossible.

the headcanon answer to his top artist would be keshi. in particular, i think kaiser would fit the vibe of "2 soon" and "drunk." long story short, you finally broke up with him, and he's still reeling from the impact.

within my fics, i envision a dialogue between kaiser and y/n from each one of their perspectives. so based on that, i'm going to assign him the following songs/artists:

"gibson girl" by ethel cain

i know i said earlier that kaiser's character is not solely about toxic manipulation, but you have to understand that all bad habits originate from somewhere. kaiser is innately self-destructive, and he brings you down along with him. this song is about that but from y/n's perspective. there's this idea of trying to find agency in a situation where you have none. i don't have the word count to explain ethel cain lore in all of its naked glory, but all i can say is that this song is a banger and deals with themes like femininity as a performance, finding power in pain, religious motifs, etc.

"glory box" by portishead

this song is y/n's last plea to kaiser before they fully give up on him and leave. i'm also a sucker for anything that involves an exploration of gender dynamics and what it means to be a woman, and this song is riddled with it.

"suffocation" by crystal castles

this is kaiser post-isagi defeat (cue that one scene where he was trying to choke himself.) similar to sae, it's all or nothing with him. he suffers from this feeling of inferiority. everyone made him out to be this great figure of impossible dreams and legends, but look at him now. he's nothing. aren't you disappointed? he had you fooled, but he also fooled himself. so yeah....kaiser is definitely the most self-deprecating out of all of the boys at blue lock.

ISAGI

the fanon answer is laufey, and i also agree. he's so sweet, and laufey's music just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. he would also be that one love that came creeping up on you when you least expected it. "valentine" would be the song for that. i picture a reader who's had a series of unfortunate breakups and is right on the edge of giving up entirely. but then isagi comes along, and it's just so easy to love him. as easy as breathing. and then you think maybe it wasn't so bad after all. you just never found the right one until he came into your life. furthermore, isagi is a jazz pop princess, and you can't convince me otherwise.

the headcanon answer is IU. more specifically, i would say "troll" from her lilac album. i feel like even if you and isagi broke up, it would still be like you two never broke up at all. you're both on good terms, and even though you know it's counterproductive to keep cycling back to each other, you do it anyways. and it's okay because you're both still in love.

from my own playlists, i would assign the following songs/artists:

"winter bear" by v

this is my comfort song. it feels like those big sherpa blankets you tuck yourself under when you're lying next to the heater in winter. isagi would kiss your forehead and nuzzle your nose before you two drifted off to sleep.

"a boy named pluto" by hailey knox

this one is so romantic lol. i also like the dynamic where one party is afraid to love, but the other person loves them unconditionally. that would be isagi. he'd respect your decision and wait for you as long as you need it. but if you're ever ready to give him a chance, just know that he's going to treasure all of you.

"put your records on" by ritt momney

the inspiring thing about isagi is that he never lets anyone put him down. he takes rejection as redirection, failure as room for improvement. and in that way, i think this song encapsulates his resilience. he'd be such a good boyfriend not just romantically but in the way that he would literally pick you back up to your feet, dust you off, and make sure everything was alright.

"fairy of shampoo" by dosii

i picture isagi as someone who falls first and falls harder. he just loves you so much, and he doesn't even need a reason why. i saw somewhere that sometimes you don't love someone because they're your soulmate/twin flame/supernaturally fated other. you love them because you consciously made the decision to. isagi is like that. he loves you on purpose.

helppp why does this sound like an academic paper...i'm sorry anon. i got carried away with this, but i hope u like it.

[ladyannemarie5]

Jaskier is more than happy to care for his witchers when they return to Kaer Morhen in winter, not that it's a sacrifice to be surrounded 24/7 by manly, strong, beautiful men, but he knows that his wolves can't be pampered by him the rest of the year because he spends every season with Geralt. 

So he comes up with an idea to make everyone see his witchers exactly as he sees them: heroic and delicious. 

A few years ago, Oxenfurt put out a series of portraits of the most handsome professors to motivate more people to go to college. Of course, the number of students inside the classrooms grew a lot. 

Jaskier wants to go further, so he tells Yennefer about making portraits of the wolves according to a different year theme. You know, a kind of calendar. 

Eskel, sweet and strong, will be Spring. Lambert, young and virile, will be Summer. Vesemir, wise and serene, will be Autumn. And Geralt, mysterious and silent, Winter. 

Jaskier can only be carried away by his fantasies. 

Thanks to Yen and his magic, by the end of Winter, in every place of the continent there is a series of magical paintings of the witchers of the wolf school exquisitely depicting a whole season that motivates all people to be kinder and more helpful to them. 

Some time later, wives and husbands convince their partners to call a witcher to solve their monster problems and give them generous tips, taverns fill them with beers for attracting so many people, inns give them the best rooms and as many bathrooms as they ask for, brothels fight to have one of them in their places and show off their charms. 

Jaskier has just invented themed calendars and is happy to know that his wolves are fully appreciated. 

The next calendar will undoubtedly feature Coën and Aiden.

[oristian]

I have a theory about Elain Archeron and where her book could potentially go. These are just my own thoughts and everyone is free to disagree if they so see fit. This theory is ACOTAR specific and will not touch on the other two series. I may come back here at some point after my SJM reread, but that is months in the future.

I have a theory that Elain will be manipulated by Koschei to free him from his lake. Since this antagonist has been introduced, it has been beaten into the reader that he is trapped by ancient magic at his lake, and his ultimate goal is to be freed and to fix this ‘desolate’ world. He has been in cohorts with Queen Briallyn in ACOSF to find the items of the Dread Trove—once Nesta had two in her possession, the plan had changed to use Cassian to force Nesta to hand them over. Koschei had, ultimately, wanted the Dread Trove items to free himself from the lake.

Before I touch on Koschei, I want to touch on Elain. There were two instances of dialogue and/or inner monologue that have stuck with me. The first is the dinner scene where Elain questions if Amren was able to shift forms once she settled into her new body—Amren pointedly informed her that she would never turn human again. The second instance was Cassian dwelling on not quite believing that Elain was going to help tend to a garden the next morning.

A large theme between the Archeron sisters is that they needed to overcome the hurdle of accepting their lives as fae in order to fully heal along their journeys. Elain has been the most negatively affected by turning fae—going so far as to lose her mortal fiancé. I am inclined to believe that Elain’s story is going to delve heavily into her aversion of being fae. I also connect this to ACOWAR when Elain asked to be glamoured to appear mortal when she and the entourage went to Graysen’s family estate.

I believe that Elain is not gardening around Velaris as she claims to be—at least, not consistently. I also believe that she wants to find any means to turn back into a mortal in order to be with Graysen once more. I connect this back to ACOFAS where Feyre harps on Elain not wanting a male, but a human man. Now, to the climatic moment of the theory: I believe that Koschei is speaking to Elain through the wind and/or her visions and will promise to turn her back into a mortal if she frees him from his lake.

Koschei communicates through the wind, as that is how he is able to gain allyship with Briallyn and Beron from the confines of his lake. Vassa confirms that Koschei had manipulated the other Queens into selling her to him. “[…], whispered on the winds.”

I connect Elain and Koschei together through Papa Archeron. I wonder if Koschei managed to find out about Elain through him, or if Elain being Made was whispered to him the same way that Nesta was to everyone else—A Cauldron-Made Seer with the ability to view his weakness. Someone like that is a risk to his very livelihood, and his overall order of operations. Elain Archeron introduced the reader to Koschei, and that will be her arc and antagonist in her book.

According to lore, Koschei’s box holds his immortality. Destroying the contents will ultimately destroy him—Koschei the Deathless bested by his own creation. I do wonder what Papa Archeron was able to negotiate with him that was enticing enough for Vassa to be released temporarily to him. “Tell my Vassa I’m waiting.”

I see Elain either giving Vassa back to Koschei, or freeing him from his lake. I then see this being the start of her healing journey—she realized the mess that she had made, and she hastily goes to try and fix it. Koschei is part of Prythian lore and the one court that has thousands of libraries with every piece of knowledge from their world documented would be the Day Court.

I do see a bit of Beron and the subplot of Helion and the Lady of Autumn being dealt with in this book, hence why I believe that Elain and Lucien will be sharing the same book. Not only was Beron an ally to both Briallyn and Koschei, but Eris comments to Cassian at the end of ACOSF that Beron very well may still allege to Koschei.

There are so many ways that SJM could take Elain’s story and this is just a single interpretation. Feel free to add your own thoughts and/or tell me why you may disagree! This is all in good fun, after all.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 9 (Pt1)

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 9 Pt1 Summary: Reader returns to the townhouse to see that Lucien has gone to the Spring Court. Per Ruhn, he asked him to make sure that Reader is okay. The emotions of the day hit her in an unexpected way. A week later Reader, Lucien, and Mor go to Day Court. It quickly becomes apparent that the Inner Circle likes to meddle. Well, so does the High Lord of the Day Court.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warning(s): Nightmares

A/N: This chapter will be split into two sections, mainly due to the similar themes throughout, but it was becoming a bit of an overload. A very special thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for her assistance with this chapter start to finish! And thank you to my team of beta readers! You guys are all amazing! There is a lot going on in this chapter, and I promise we are getting closer to actually moving some of the plot forward. But character and relationship development is also important for what I have instore.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 8

Nyx had fallen asleep rather quickly after the start of your personal one-woman rendition of Frozen 2. After tucking him in and saying your goodbye to Feyre and Elain, you opted to walk on your own back to the town house. You’ve walked along this route a few times and it didn’t pass by any of the pubs, so you didn’t have to worry about possibly running into any drunk males. Even if you did, you had been seen walking along the route with various members of the “Inner Circle'' and even the High Lord himself on more than one occasion. Someone would have to have a death wish to mess with you knowing that you worked directly for the High Lord and Lady. 

The walk was just the thing you needed to help clear your mind of the emotionally taxing day. This morning had started off much differently than where your day had ended. Your good humor from the surprise offering of that apple to Azriel had long since disappeared. As the day went on the positive energy had been slowly drained out of you. Instead, it was replaced with irritation, a hairpin trigger temper, and resurfacing memories you longed to be forgotten. Today felt like the longest day in existence as you slowly trudged back to the town house. 

The cold breeze off the Sidra flitted over your skin, hurrying you along. The day’s events added up and you couldn’t wait to see Lucien to discuss everything that happened. Well, almost everything. You still had a promise to keep to Nesta, even though you were certain that the other females would be telling their mates about your little ability to walk through the Prison wards without issue. Once Cassian knew something, it meant that it wouldn’t be long before Rhysand knew as well. 

In what felt like record time, you found yourself walking up the steps leading to the front door. Your heart sputtered with the thought of not being able to tell Lucien what you had discovered. So far, you shared practically everything with the Autumn Court male. While he didn’t know everything about you or your past, you had made sure to keep him apprised of the inner workings of your mind and any event that happened while he was not directly next to you. That was something the two of you had agreed upon since your fight prior to moving to Velaris. 

The door had been unlocked, which was something that you felt you’d never quite get used to. The interior of the town house was warm, a fire dancing in the parlor’s fireplace. You poked your head into the room expecting to see the near crimson shade of Lucien’s long hair hanging over the armrest of the couch. However, you were instead greeted by the infectious smile and vivid blue eyes of Ruhn. 

“Hey there sweetness,” He called out. You felt your shoulders slump ever so slightly and hesitated on whether to fully enter the room. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be around Ruhn, but all you really wanted to do was talk to Lucien. You needed to decompress with your best friend from this emotional rollercoaster that was today. 

“Hey,” Your voice was softer than you intended. Maybe Lucien was already in your room waiting for you. A book in his lap as he leaned against the headboard of the bed you both practically shared.  

“That’s all I get? A simple ‘Hey’.” Ruhn teased, standing up from the couch. 

“Sorry,” You tried to hide your own smile by pressing your lips into a thin line. “But is Lucien here?

“Ah, about that,” Ruhn took a few steps across the room, and you tried your best not to tense your shoulders again. “He…wanted me to tell you that he was called away. He had to go…check in on those allies in the south.”  

“Oh,” Your chest felt heavy. “Okay.” A part of you couldn’t help but wonder at the truth of the statement. 

“Is there…” He paused, his hand outstretched. Ultimately it came to rest on your shoulder before that violet stare looked you over. You fidgeted in place, picking at your nails. It wasn’t exactly like Lucien not to tell you himself if he was leaving. Sure, he’d left the Night Court without warning before, but he had always left you a note. “Can I help with anything?” 

You met Ruhn’s gaze and hesitated. He and the others from Midgard were perfectly aware of your ongoing issues. They had all been at the Moonstone Palace in those early days. And while Bryce and Hunt would occasionally stay in a room at the House of Wind, Ruhn stayed at the town house full time with you. He knew all too well that the occasional nights away from Lucien still led to difficulty sleeping. But you never asked for any help from him or anyone else before. Lucien was the only one and those nights had just become routine. He was your safe space. Though the guilt had been lessening, you didn’t want to be a burden to anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Ruhn to step in, even if you knew he would without question. 

“I should be okay,” You forced a smile to your lips. Taking his hand off your shoulder, you gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you though.” With that you turned and headed up the stairs to your room.

Sure enough, you were greeted by a cold and empty room. Lucien would typically use his magic to light the fire in the small hearth and have it blazing before you fell asleep. Tonight, you would have to go without. You knew how to get one going on your own, but you didn’t have the tools readily available tonight. Closing the curtains, you changed into your night clothes and readied for bed. You prayed that your sleep tonic tonight would be enough to keep the darkness at bay.

Blackness. Deep and penetrating. The surrounding darkness filled your vision. The color was so dense it swallowed any light that dared linger. The dark was followed by a bitter cold that seeped into your bones. Your hands stretched out in front of you, trying to guide you through the depths. The tips of your fingers were numb, giving way to a minor sensation in your palms. What should have felt like frozen air was instead slippery and oily. Something slithered across your forearm. 

You opened your mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Another unknown thing wound up your leg. Still no sound could be heard past your lips. Up and up your thigh the scaly creature traveled. You tried to brush it away, but another wrapped around your wrist, pulling it back. The silence of the space around you was deafening. You kicked against the creature, trying your best to shake it off. You could feel the frozen tears along your cheeks. The creature coiled its way up slowly, a trail of black oil in its wake staining your skin. You pulled at your restrained wrist and continued to kick. Finally breaking free, you began to run. Getting no more than a few feet, your steps slowed. The ground beneath you turned into thick molasses. The sticky and slimy substance reeked of festering meat. Gagging at the stench you pulled your hands up to your mouth, only for the reek to become stronger. Looking down you saw your hands were covered in the same unknown substance. Suddenly your movements stopped altogether. 

The stinking black ooze fully covered your feet and was rapidly rising; filling up the space that you were in. Panic latched itself onto you. With each attempt to free your limbs the world around you seemed to slow. Not that you could see much beyond your own body. The silver glow it emitted was immediately swallowed by the darkness. A deep rumbling caused the light to flicker. 

“No!” You cried, but again the sound died instantly. The ooze continued to rise. The creature from before had wound its way around your waist. Your wrists were bound a second time above your head. You tried to kick again, but the ooze was nearly at your hips. How did it get so high? A bright flash of blue nearly blinded you. 

“No!” You tried to scream a second time. The ooze was now at your neck, and the tears streamed down faster. The creature around you constricted tighter and you felt that deep rumbling at your back. You opened your mouth again to scream, but air was quickly replaced with that reeking oily darkness. You were going to die. 

“(Y/N)! WAKE UP!” Your eyes snapped open. Tears clung to your eyelashes and blurred your vision. You tried to move your arms, but something kept them pinned down at your sides. Taking large gulps of air, you blinked and whipped your head around, desperately trying to find why the blackness had suddenly disappeared. The rushing of your blood pounded against your ears. Slowly, the sound subsided, and the tears dried up. A blast of cold wind snapped along your front. It was a stark contrast to the dull warmth at your back. You turned your head to look behind you. Moonlight drenched panic was visible in Ruhn’s features. Slowly you turned around, his arms never leaving you.

“R-Ruhn?” Your throat burned, hoarse from the screams you let out in your sleep. The male stood before you now, one arm wrapped around your middle while the other cradled your face. His thumb brushed at a tear that slipped down your cheek. You looked around, finally taking in your surroundings. You were on the roof of the town house. The Night Court sky, black speckled in deep blues and purples, twinkled with starlight. A nearly full moon hung low on the western horizon. Ruhn’s thumb continued to stroke along your cheek. The movement allowed you to slowly reorient yourself in your body.   

“How…” You looked back at the male.

“You were sleepwalking,” His touch was so gentle, and his voice held the slightest tremble.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized. Ruhn chuckled.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, baby,” He pulled you towards his chest. Your feet stumbled as they came off the ledge. The stone of the building felt like ice under your bare feet. “Let’s get you back to bed.”

You nodded along and he guided you back to the roof entrance. You had only been up here a few times, so you were surprised that you found the door on your own. Especially since you had been asleep. Sleepwalking. You had never sleep walked before, and you could feel your body shake with the thought of what would have happened had Ruhn not been in the town house with you. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you were already at your bedroom door.

“Did you take your tonic tonight?” Ruhn asked, leading you into the room.

“Yes,” You whispered, staring at your empty bed. The dark sheets were crumpled and half hanging off the side. Almost as if you had been in the fight of your life within the silk fabric.

“Then you’re not sleeping alone,” His tone was resolute. And if you hadn’t been in near shock, you may have fought against him. You watched in silence at the foot of the bed as he tucked the corners of the bottom sheet underneath the mattress. Once it was all set, he motioned for you to climb back in. You complied wordlessly, pulling the blankets back over yourself. He then sat in the armchair next to the bed and spread out the copper throw blanket over his legs.

“Take the rest of your tonic,” He instructed, “I’ll let the others know that you need the morning off.” His smile was gentle, and you genuinely felt safe. You again did as he instructed, and slumber claimed you again as soon as your head hit the pillow.

If you could only use a single word to sum up the Day Court, it was brilliant. The sun itself almost seemed to shine brighter than within the Night Court skies. The air certainly held a warmer quality that wasn’t solely because it was further south on the large island. No, the air almost reminded you of your own home in the fall. Just like the warm breeze flowing across your skin now, you didn’t get the crisp and cool Autumn winds in your hometown. A slight pang of nostalgia flooded through you.

The Autumn based holidays were always important to your family. You made a mental note to ask Lucien when the Autumn Equinox was set to occur. You could then use that as a base to count down the days to Samhain. Maybe this year you could celebrate the Wheel of Year in your own way. If you were going to be stuck here, you may as well continue your personal practice. You had been able to gather that Prythian followed a solar calendar and celebrated many similar holidays to your own Celtic roots. Maybe if everything worked out in your visit with Helion, you’d be able to study some of their holidays and mythology. You always loved reading about that in your own world.

You wondered if the libraries held the same level of grandeur as the High Lord’s palace. The hall that you found yourself walking along with Mor, who had firmly planted herself between you and Lucien, was nothing short of opulent. Large stone columns lined the hall, holding the ceiling aloft. To your best guess it would have been at least 20 feet high. Your eyes darted from pillar to pillar, each filled with various images. It reminded you of the temples and other sacred sites in ancient Egypt.

The hall eventually ended, sectioning off into two open air walkways that surrounded an open courtyard oasis. A large reflection pool with deep teal water took up half of the expansive space. An occasional floating lily pad was the only disruption to the smooth surface. The other half was walled off by a luscious garden. Your eyes lit up at the vivid greens ranging from deep emerald to olive to dusty sage in plants of all sizes. The few flowering plants all held buds and blossoms of a white hue. You could recognize only a scant few on sight. Roses, Calla Lilies, and Magnolia. It was breath-taking to say the least. You would have loved to lounge on one of the cushioned benches that were scattered throughout the area. A good book in one hand and a margarita in the other.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Morrigan walked up to your side. You hadn’t even realized that you had stopped to stare at the beautiful garden. She gently pulled your elbow encouraging you to continue moving. Rubbing the top of your left ear you followed suit. Rhysand requested that Lucien place a glamor on your ears to give them a pointed appearance. Mor gently clasped your wrist and pulled your hand away.

You weren’t entirely sure why Rhysand had insisted that she tag along on this journey. Really, you only needed one babysitter. So, having two seemed a bit overkill. But as much as Rhysand tried to pretend that you were more than just a thorn in his side, you knew that the only reason you even required an entourage was because he didn’t trust you to be alone with anyone outside of the Night Court.

You had nothing against Mor being here, and she was certainly a better option than some of the other members of the Inner Circle. For the most part you got along with her, but you also didn’t spend much time together to be more than cordial in each other’s presence. She often traveled to and from the continent for some reason or other. You weren’t privy to that information, nor did you really care. The internal workings of the Night Court held no real interest of yours.

You just wanted the opportunity to figure out a way home. The sooner you could do that, the sooner you could leave and return to the place where you knew you were wanted. Something deep in your gut told you that the longer you spent in this strange world the more likely you would get caught up in drama or events that frankly you’d rather not have to deal with. You had been perfectly comfortable with your life back home and you were eager to return before too much time had passed. You still had so many things you wished to accomplish.

Your mind was brought out of its wandering when Mor looped her arm with yours. She began to chatter about the marble sculptures that lined the walkway your group had taken on its way to wherever Helion was waiting. The Fae male escorting your group took you down another hallway, this one leading to a veranda. Nervously you reached towards your ear again, but Mor stopped you.

Helion sat on an ornately carved pine chaise with cream upholstery. Before him was a table lined with various meats, cheeses, fruits, and bread. A carafe filled with pale wine was in his hands. He had just finished filling a glass with the liquid when he looked up to see his visitors.

“Ah-ha!” His deep voice reverberated off the white marble walls. “I was beginning to think that you had gotten lost.” The High Lord set down the wine glass and stood. His arms outstretched as Mor’s arm slipped from where it encircled yours. The two embraced like the old friends they were.

Just as his home was an aesthetic vision of whites, so was the High Lord himself. The robe he wore hung from one shoulder and draped across his broad and toned chest, tucking into a golden belt. The rest of the fabric cascaded to the floor. Your eyes roved over his form. His golden-brown skin was perfectly sun-kissed, half of his thick black hair swept and pinned up accentuating his sharp jawline. The male was nothing short of godlike in appearance.

Next to you Lucien cleared his throat, before placing his index finger under your chin and closing your mouth for you.

“What?” You swatted his hand away.

“Really?” He leveled you with a look that was halfway between amused and exasperated. Heat flared on your cheeks. You hadn’t meant to gawk at the High Lord, but honestly no one should have expected any different. You opened your mouth to try and save your pride at having been caught so blatantly when Helion called out to Lucien.

“How are you?” The two males clasped their forearms together in greeting. “I’m thrilled that you were able to make it. I hear you and that brother of yours have been working tirelessly to help maintain…boundaries as of late. Hopefully this isn’t the only break Rhysand has given you?”

“I can safely say that this is a much-welcomed change of pace,” Lucien smiled. “Shall I introduce you to (Y/N)? Rhys and Mor’s cousin from the continent.” You tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind your ear, a shy smile forming on your lips. You had nearly forgotten the cover story that had been provided to Helion. It struck you as ironic that Rhysand had come up with the idea, especially when he gave no indication of knowing how close to the truth it was.   

“It’s very nice to meet you um…” You still weren’t certain of the best way to address him.

“Helion,” He smiled, and it seemed as if the room brightened along with it. “No need for formalities for such an informal situation wouldn’t you agree?” He took your hand and brought the back of your knuckles to his lips. You nodded in agreement, the ability to speak completely vacating your mind. You felt like a middle schooler again trying to talk to the dashingly handsome teacher. While you had been warned of the High Lord’s flirtatious nature, you didn’t fully realize how dangerous his looks would be on their own. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Lucien’s own mismatched eyes roll.

The High Lord stepped away and returned his attention to Mor, who had made herself comfortable on one of the plush chairs surrounding what was certainly to be your lunch. Lucien playfully poked you in the ribs. Suppressing a giggle, you pushed his hands away only for him to keep one on your waist.

“I’ve had my people prepare two rooms for you,” Helion began. “Per your request Lucien, you and-”

“Only two rooms?” Mor questioned, casually sipping from her wine glass. “Not that I mind sharing a room with my cousin.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. You felt Lucien tense as you continued towards the table. You had been under the impression that you and Lucien would share a room per your routine. Was that not the case? Had the concern of the time you and Lucien spent together spread beyond just Azriel and Nesta?

“Not exactly,” Helion’s smile almost seemed forced. You glanced at Lucien out of the corner of your eye. He appeared just as hesitant and uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going as you.

“So, a third room will be prepared as well then?” She picked a strawberry and brought it to her lips. Your heartrate kicked up. Would you really be forced to sleep by yourself for your short stay here? You had had nightmares all week, even after taking your tonic and Ruhn staying with you as promised. You had your tonic, but you were not prepared to be alone. From the looks on Lucien and Helion’s faces neither had they.

“No, Mor,” Helion stated simply. The High Lord motioned for you and Lucien to take your seats on the small couch. “Lucien and (Y/N) will share a room as I have discussed with him.”

“Even though he’s mated to another female?” You couldn’t suppress the surprise on your features fast enough. “His High Lady’s sister to be exact.” You half expected a satisfied smirk or even feigned concern on Elain’s behalf given her tone, but her expression gave nothing away. It suddenly clicked that this was the reason that Mor was present. She was to run interference between Lucien and you. To keep you separated, regardless of what that meant for you.

Her statement only confirmed your recent anxieties. Those outside of your bedroom believe your friendship with Lucien was crossing into a questionable realm. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. Surly Morrigan, whose power was somehow related to seeing the truth, would know that your relationship with Lucien was strictly platonic. Your friendship was the only thing that kept you stable. Did they all really expect you to have completely healed by now?

That must be the case, since it appeared everyone around you believed it was high time that you learned to manage your issues on your own. It didn’t matter that others had been given the time and resources and social support they all ultimately needed to heal. You had been granted time and Lu was your support. So…maybe they were right. Despite Lucien saying that everything was fine, maybe you depended on him too much. And if an effort to separate you was being made, maybe you had inadvertently prevented Elain from seeking out her mate. Maybe-

“It seems that there is a misunderstanding regarding my relationship with (Y/N),” Lucien cut in, his hand finding its way to the small of your back. “I help her with her nightmares, which have recently escalated to include sleepwalking. She nearly-” You looked at him. Did Ruhn tell him about that first night he was away? About how you nearly walked off the rooftop.

“Then maybe we should seek the assistance of Thesan regarding a stronger tonic to help her get the restful sleep she needs,” Mor’s interjection was quick. This discussion had the potential to quickly get out of hand.

“Helion,” Your voice was soft, and again you played with your ear. “Perhaps, if its not too much trouble, a separate room for myself would be best.” The warmth supporting your back vanished as you looked to the High Lord. For a split second you could have sworn that sadness flickered in his eyes. The male held your gaze for a moment, before slowly nodding. Helion called over one of the males that stood by the entrance to the veranda instructing him to advise that a third room would be needed.

“Given the concerns of your sleepwalking,” He looked to Lucien briefly before returning his gaze to you. “I will personally see to it that the appropriate wards are set so that you can rest easy and walk about the room without getting hurt.” Lucien’s hand returned to your lower back as you took a deep breath.

“Thank you.” You dipped your chin in acknowledgement and apology. The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly. The conversation switched to various topics, most of which your brain couldn’t seem to focus on. You answered questions that Helion directed towards you, but you kept your responses short.

When the room was prepared, the High Lord himself showed you the way, setting up the wards as promised. He allowed you to have some time alone before reuniting for dinner. You didn’t have the heart to tell him or any of your companions that all you could manage to do while alone was stare out the doorless entrance to the balcony overlooking the large palace grounds. Instead, you lied, claiming to have taken a nap.

At dinner, Mor insisted on sitting between you and Lucien. Her reasoning was that it would allow you to focus on a conversation with Helion. Again, your focus on the conversation was strained. By the time you returned to your designated room you felt like a zombie just going through the motions. You bathed and changed into a set of night clothes you reserved for warmer weather. Holding one of the four bottles of the sleep tonic that you brought with you, you sat on the foot of the massive bed. You had been so lost in your dissociation that you had yet to take in its splendor. You stared at the bottle, debating on drinking half or the entire thing. Even with the shields in place you didn’t want to risk your body having the energy to physically get up. So, popping the cork you downed the entire contents. Within seconds your vision faded, and the world went black.  

A couple days had passed since you, Lucien, and Morrigan arrived in the Day Court. Throughout that time, Mor had rarely left your side and it was grating on your nerves. You had hoped that you would have the opportunity to talk with Lucien regarding everything that had happened since the day you went to the Prison. Unfortunately, that opportunity was thwarted at every turn. Her presence made you feel on edge.

You had terrible dreams that first night here, the sleeping tonic proving to be of no real use. You wondered if your body was starting to become more tolerant of whatever ingredients went into making it, or if you were being given something else entirely. While insomnia wasn’t new to you, it certainly was much more irritating to deal with when you had no access to the heavy drugs of Western medicine. So, instead of continuing to drink shit that did nothing you decided that you just weren’t going to sleep. By your count, you had foregone sleep for nearly 40 hours now. The longer you stayed in your room, the more the shadows started to play tricks on you. Which is why you found yourself wandering the halls of Helion’s palace just before dawn.

“I do not make my decision lightly Morrigan,” Your body jumped in surprise as Helion’s deep voice rumbled through hall. “Had you not been so preoccupied with your…companion that night, I’m certain that you would have heard her screams. The rest of my estate certainly did.” 

You scurried behind one of the large pillars as their voices grew. You could hear Mor respond, but the words themselves were difficult for your human ears to pick up on. Your face flushed at the realization that he was talking about you. You had screamed yourself hoars in those early morning hours after your first night. Lucien had practically broken down the door to get to you, Helion hot on his heels. As soon as you managed to stop crying you apologized profusely to the pair. Lucien offered to stay with you after that, but you knew that with Mor around it wouldn’t be wise. So begrudgingly he left you to get ready for the day.

“This is not a slight against you,” He reassured the female as they came into view. You pressed yourself as close to the pillar as possible.

“It certainly feels as such since you are asking only me to leave,” She quipped. “Helion, what am I supposed to tell my cousin when I return alone?”

“If you must give him an answer then tell Rhysand this,” Helion smiled at Morrigan. “I cannot come to trust her when she does not feel comfortable around certain members of his court.” The pair halted, stopping before an insanely large looking glass.

“Let me talk to her without his ever-watchful eyes and ears,” You watched as Helion set his hand on her shoulder. “That means take the Shadowsinger back with you.” His final sentence was delivered with a coldness you had not anticipated hearing.

It took a few seconds for your brain to process what he said. Azriel was also here and lurking around. Your eyes did not play any tricks on you last night after all. Those were Azriel’s shadows peeking out behind the curtains of your room. From the reflection in the hallway mirror, you saw Mor’s eyes widen slightly before that perfected Night Court façade slipped in place. 

“Lucien and Azriel can return-”

“Lucien is the only one she is comfortable with; therefore, he will remain here in his emissary capacity,” A shiver shot down your spine at the level of authority held within the High Lord of 

Day’s voice. “I’m not trying to steal (Y/N) away after all.”

“But he’s mated-”

“And has that bond been accepted?” He challenged. “He’s a grown male and she’s a grown woman. They do not need your nor Rhysand’s interference in their lives and how they wish to live them.” You wished that you were able to see the look on Helion’s face. He didn’t even know you and yet he was fighting with Mor, someone he knew well, on your behalf.

“You saw through her glamor,” Mor kept her air of indifference.

“No,” Helion laughed. “She keeps touching the tops of her ears. I don’t know of any High Fae that touch their ears the way she has been. I merely guessed at her being human, so thank you for the confirmation.” So much for your disguise. It wasn’t your fault that the magic felt like the top of your ears had lost circulation. That pins and needles sensation was unsettling.

“It is interesting to watch them though, is it not? How when in the same space they are so unconsciously aware of each other. One shifts as the other does.” His deep voice sounded further away, as if he was remembering something.

“Then you understand the concern,” Mor pressed.

“I do not,” Helion resumed their walk. “Those in the Night Court have been blessed with finding their mates and happiness of being with them. While many place these bonds above all else, you and I both know from personal experience that finding your mate doesn’t guarantee a happy life.” Mor sighed as she followed him.

“You’re right,” She linked her arm through his. “They do have a unique relationship that the others don’t want to acknowledge.” The two walked in silence for a while, their voices growing soft in the distance.

“Has his mate made any comment?” You could barely make out his last question, and you couldn’t even hear Mor’s response. Their conversation sent your mind reeling. So many questions swarmed to the surface. Had your friendship with Lucien really crossed some unknown social taboo? If that was the case, then you certainly had a lot to think about.

Next: Chapter 9 Part 2-Coming Soon

General TAG List: @loving-and-dreaming

BHIN TAG LIST: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq

Crossed out names wouldn't let me tag you, or tag the correct blog.

[krisdreaming]

a little birdie told me you wanted fall themed fic ideas, so here I am!!

I feel like a cute fall themed idea is a coffee date and then a walk through the local park where you admire the colors of the leaves!!

And turns out the day is quite windy, but the reader didn't bring their jacket, so the character gives them their own jacket so the reader won't be cold😭😭❤❤

Is it kinda basic? Yeah, but I feel like you could make this into something really cute

Thank you for believing in me, because I actually came up with a pretty cute idea for this :')

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x gn!reader

WC: 769

A/N: In Japan around this time of year, they celebrate Tsukimi, aka the moon viewing festival. I really love the idea of it, and so the idea to incorporate it into a fic popped into my head! And of course, who better to write it for than our own Tsukki?? The play on words is, of course, that Tukishima's family name contains the character for the moon (Tsuki).

"Look at this!" The poster just catches your eye as you're leaving the coffee shop. It's advertising a Tsukimi event at the nearby park, and it's this evening. "This month has gone by so fast, I almost forgot that it's Tsukimi already!"

Kei leans in to get a closer look at the poster and merely hums in acknowledgement. You tug on his hand. "C'mon, why don't we go? It's only a few blocks away, and it's such a perfect evening." You gesture up at the clear sky, already in its full sunset glory.

"You sure?" He raises an eyebrow. "You don't even have your coat," He points out, and you shrug your shoulders in your t-shirt.

"It's not even cold today! Don't try to make excuses just so you can be a stick in the mud." You pause, donning your best pleading look. "Please?"

He sighs, but his grip on your hand tightens. "Well, alright," He agrees, and you grin. "Only because you said please."

You laugh softly. "Thanks, Kei." You swing your linked hands lightly between you. The walk to the park isn't far. When you get there, you find it strung with soft lights, and a few small food and drink stands are giving off delightful smells.

"I guess you want some dango?" He gestures to the nearby stall, and you nod quickly. It wouldn't be Tsukimi without dango. With your snack acquired, you soon make your way to one of the benches set up throughout the park. You have a clear view of the sky once seated, and you look up into the darkening twilight.

"How soon do you think the moon's going to rise?" You ask, glancing at your boyfriend.

He shrugs. "How should I know?" He slides his arm around your shoulders, and you gladly settle in closer to him. Now that the sun is gone, the warm autumn day is turning into a cool autumn night. You try not to shiver in the cool breeze, not wanting to prove him right about the jacket.

You try to keep up a conversation, but it isn't long before you're clenching your teeth to keep them from chattering. "You're not cold, are you?" Kei asks with a smirk, and you shake your head stubbornly.

"I'm fine." You force out.

"Sure," He says, pulling his arm away and letting even more cool air against your skin. You can't help hugging your arms around yourself. Before you can react, he shrugs out of the jacket he's wearing and drapes it across your shoulders with a click of his teeth.

"I don't want you to be cold," You mumble even as you pull the jacket tighter around you, relishing the body heat still clinging to the fabric.

"It's not even cold today," He mimics your earlier words in a squeaky voice, and you immediately punch his shoulder.

"You're so mean to me!"

"Only because you deserve it," He shoots back, sliding his arm around you again and giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze when you pout. His fingertips skim your arm through the fabric of his jacket, and you rest your head in the crook of his neck.

Soon enough, the moon does make its appearance, and you lift your head to look up at it more fully. The autumn moon really does look larger than normal, and seems to shine just a little bit brighter through the crisp night air.

Eventually, you can't help it. You shift your gaze from the moon in the sky to the man beside you. The moonlight softens his features, and your eyes trace the curve of his nose. You feel warmth swelling in your middle the longer you look at him, taking a few moments to memorize his moonlit face in this moment.

"What are you doing?" He finally turns to you, as if sensing your gaze on him.

"Viewing the moon," You answer nonchalantly with the beginnings of a cheeky smile. He rolls his eyes.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take," He sighs at your joke, his exasperated look almost strong enough to disguise the soft smile quirking at the corners of his lips.

"What?" You ask innocently, and reach to sandwich his face between your palms. "You're my moon, Kei."

"You're insufferable," He replies softly, but he closes the gap between you and presses his lips to yours. His fingers soon come up to cup your face, and he deepens the kiss.

"But you love me anyway?" You ask when he finally pulls away.

"Yeah," He says in a low voice, thumb grazing your cheek. "Unfortunately."

[veliseraptor]

July Reading Recap

A Fire Upon the Deep by Vernor Vinge. I can see why people said this one had Adrian Tchaikovsky vibes because in terms of the worldbuilding and the alien species involved it absolutely did. I was not super enamored of the part of the plot that wasn't on the Tines' world (which was...an important part of the plot), but my investment in the politics of the Tines and the worldbuilding around them made up for it. I'm curious about the apparent sequel and whether it's worth reading - does anybody know?

Thousand Autumns: vol. 5 by Meng Xi Shi. I have finished Thousand Autumns and my verdict on it mostly hasn't changed from what it's been throughout: enjoyable but not really fully clicking for me. I liked it! But I didn't love it, and I don't know that it'll stick with me the way other books have, or compel me to do a reread.

A Fatal Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum: Murder in Ancient Rome by Emma Southon. Maybe I just don't have a sense of humor, but I felt like this book was trying too hard to be funny/clever and it landed wrong for me. It was interesting, certainly! And I learned some new things from it, and probably will go on to read the author's other book (about women in Ancient Rome), but this one tonally was not a winner, for me personally.

Ballad of Sword and Wine: vol. 1 by Tang Jiu Qing. Rereading this one (Qiang Jin Jiu, they're really going off in their own direction title translation-wise there) with the official published translation even though I am also binding it, because I can, I guess. And I still deeply appreciate how unhinged Shen Zechuan is, but in, like, mostly a way where it's not obvious to most people until they've known him for a little while. Also the sheer amount of politics, which I'm following better on this second readthrough. I think it'll be rewarding to reread.

The Pomegranate Gate by Ariel Kaplan. One of two Jewish fantasy books I read this month, just by chance (I wasn't intending on a theme, they'd both been on my to-read list for a while). I liked it a lot! I thought it was going to be a stand alone and feel a little funny about it being a series (I'm always looking for more stand alones), but I am also looking forward to more of it.

The Devil & Sherlock Holmes: Tales of Murder, Madness, and Obsession by David Grann. I've really enjoyed the other David Grann books I've read/listened to (The Lost City of Z, Killers of the Flower Moon) but found myself fairly underwhelmed by most of the essays here. It's not that they weren't good (they were) or interesting (most of them were), it just didn't feel like they were that good or that interesting. Maybe I just like his full-length books better.

Five Broken Blades by Mai Corland. It was fine? Not as good as I'd hoped. I called the twist which was satisfying for me personally. I don't know if I'm going to be reading the sequel. Most of the POV characters I liked fairly well, which is the main thing this book had going for it, but one of them bored me to tears and that inflected my enjoyment of the book as a whole.

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez. This book earned its five stars by making me cry in the last 20%. Overall a beautiful book, though, relatively quiet; I wasn't sure about it early on but then it hit a turn that really got me. Makes me want to read his other book. The summary on the back really does not do the book justice but I don't actually know how I would explain it better, and I recognize that makes it a difficult recommendation.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb. This one was really good and a lot of fun. Very Jewish, too, which was enjoyable and not something I run into all that often in fantasy books. Just...very charming, entertaining, a joy to read.

I'm currently reading Godkiller by Hannah Kaner though I should be reading Edenville since I have it checked out from the library (I'll get to it!). I keep meaning to get back to reading more nonfiction (or realistic fiction) and then getting distracted. My plan for upcoming books, though, includes The Ratline, To Shape a Dragon's Breath, and (after years of having it sit on my shelf) Beauty Is a Wound. We'll see how on task I stay or if I end up wandering off to other stuff.

I'm currently looking for horror and mystery/thriller recommendations, though, so if anyone has any of those I will take them.

[lost-celestial]

Celebration of the Soul (Overview)

Description: This is a modern collection of festivals for Psyche and Hermes that follows the migration of Monarch butterflies. The timing may change yearly. There are four festivals, one for each stage of migration/season to celebrate and honor our past, present, and future. More information will be posted later.

If Monarchs aren't local to your region, I suggest using the migration of a different butterfly in your area. Otherwise, feel free to use the Equinoxes instead!

Inspired by @starry-polytheism's festival for the Southern Hemisphere and @lavenderwaterfall's festival for the Northern Hemisphere. Dividers by @/k1ssyoursister

Soul's Journey: Spring

🦋 Theme: Looking to the Future 🦋 Timing: Spring Migration, Mid-Mar. to Early Apr. 🦋 Personal Preference: Mar. 31 to Apr. 2

Honoring Ψυχή Ἀνθεία, Psyche, the Friend of Flowers, and Ἑρμης Εριουνης, Hermes, the Luckbringer and Helper.

This is the first generation of a yearlong journey that will span multiple generations of monarchs.

Monarchs are one of the only butterflies that Monarch twice a year. The start of their adventure begins here, usually sometime in mid-March. As the temperature gets warmer, Monarchs will leave their overwintering spots (where they spend the winter) and migrate North. By Spring fully rolls around, the Monarchs have already started their next adventure.

Our first Soul's Journey begins here. This is the time to celebrate the start of a new chapter in our lives and look towards the future. We honor Psyche, the Friend of Flowers, by celebrating the return of the Spring and breathing spirit back into our lives. We honor Hermes, the Luckbringer and Helper, by asking for Hermes' guidance in the next chapter of our lives. He will be our guide through the unknown.

In this soft grassy spot, Psyche lay pleasantly reclining on her bed of dewy turf and, her great disquiet of mind soothed, fell sweetly asleep. Presently, refreshed by rest, she rose with her mind at ease. What she now saw was a park planted with big trees and a spring of crystal-clear water.

Soul's Journey: Summer

☀️ Theme: Enjoying the Present ☀️ Timing: Summer, June to Mid August ☀️ Personal Preference: Jun. 18 to Jun. 20

Honoring Ψυχή ἐρωμένη, Psyche, the Lover of Love and Ἑρμης Δαις Ἑταιρος, Hermes, the Comarde of the Feast.

After Spring comes Summer.

For the next couple of Monarch generations, they’ll dedicate their lives to continuing North and breeding. Monarchs die, are born, and die again; yet, time continues to move. Monarchs are never stagnant and are always flying towards their next goal.

This is the time to celebrate the present moment and find joy in the little things. It’s the time to remember that everyday we are progressing, even if it feels like we aren’t or that we’re regressing. Every day that we’re alive is a day well spent. We’ll honor Psyche, the Lover of Love, by spending time appreciate the people we care about in our lives and spending time offline. We’ll honor Hermes, the Comrade of the Feast, by showing gratitude for the things we have and actually celebrating ourselves and what we are achieving in the moment. It’s a celebration of self.

As far and wide as the house extended, every part of it was likewise of inestimable price. All the walls, which were built of solid blocks of gold, shone with their own brilliance so that the house furnished its own daylight, sun or no sun; [....] As [Psyche] gazed at all this with much pleasure, a disembodied voice came to her: 'Mistress, you need not be amazed at this great wealth. All of it is yours.'

Soul's Journey: Autumn

🍁 Theme: Honoring the Past 🍁 Timing: Autumn/Fall Migration, Late Aug. to Nov. 🍁 Personal Preference: Sept. 16 to Sept. 20

Honoring Ψυχή Πτερόεσσα, Psyche, the Winged One and Ἑρμης Αθανατος Δαικτορος, Hermes, the Immortal Guide.

After several months of the heat, the temperature begins to drop and the plants begin to die.

By this point, three generations of Monarchs have lived and died. Now, it’s time for the Monarchs’ biggest journey: migrating down South once again.

Flying down South will be completed in one generation, throughout the Autumn/Fall months. Monarchs of this generation are significantly different than their great-grandparents, whom started the journey to the North in the spring. These months live significantly longer and won’t reproduce as much until they’ve reached their destination.

In the most literal sense, these Monarchs have transformed into something completely different than their parents, and their parent’s parents. This is the start of the end of a long adventure. We’ll honor Psyche, the Winged One, by reflecting on how we can learn from our past. We’ll honor Hermes, the Immortal Guide, by leaving offerings to our ancestors and asking Chthonic deities for their guidance with change.

NOTE: I recommend you take your time with this part of the celebration. It can be heavy, as much of this part revolves around the departed and the end of something. Really take your time to allow yourself to feel your emotions and process what you're feeling. You want to take your time with this.

Then, indeed, Psyche knew that her last hour had come and, that all disguised was at an end and that she was being openly sent to instant destruction. So much was clear, seeing that she was being made to go on her own two feet to [Hades] and the shades. Without delay, she made for a certain lofty tower, meaning to throw herself off it, for in that way, she thought she could most directly and economically go down to the Underworld. But the tower suddenly broke into speech: 'Why, poor child, do you want to destroy yourself by a death leap? Why needlessly give up at this last ordeal?'

Soul's Journey: Winter

❄️ Theme: Repose (Rest) ❄️ Timing: Winter, December to Early March ❄️ Personal Timing: Dec. 30 to Jan. 3

Honoring Ψυχή, Psyche, Personification of the Soul and Ἑρμης, Hermes, God of Communication, Boundaries and Divine Guide.

After the long migration South again, the generation of super Monarchs will die. Unlike the generations before them, these Monarchs will begin reproducing and laying eggs once Spring rolls around again. Like Autumn, this season is spent mostly traveling South until the temperature warms up again, and they migrate North again to start the next breeding cycle. This generation is truly the most special of all previous generations, and both symbolize the Monarchs' incredible journey and the end of an era. It’s the time to reflect, appreciate, and acknowledge what we’ve done over the course of the seasons. To celebrate, we’ll honor Psyche herself with some much-needed self-care and R&R. Alongside that, we’ll honor Hermes for his help in guiding us every day.

Cups of nectar were served to Zeus by his own cupbearer, the shepherd lad (Ganymede), and to the others by Dionysus; Hephaestus cooked the dinner; the Seasons (Hoare) made everything colorful with roses and other flowers; the Graces (Charities) sprinkled perfumes; the Muses discoursed tuneful music. Then Apollo sang to the lyre, and Aphrodite, fitting her steps to the sweet music, danced in all her beauty. [...] This was Psyche's marriage to Eros, and when her time came, they had a daughter, whom we called Hedone [Pleasure].

[girlypopbops]

☾☆⋆˙⟡ Fall 2024 Bucket List ☾☆⋆˙⟡

With August coming to a close, I am fully ready for the fall season. Fall has always been my favorite season between the sweet smells and tastes, the cozy atmosphere, and comfortable fashion. Every year I like to make a bucket list for the fall, even if I don't get through it, its nice to be delusional and day dream about fun activities and the outfits I could wear for them. However, here are my top bucket list items that I am holding myself accountable to actually do this year...

⟡ Bake a sweet treat 

⟡ Purchase a pumpkin 

╰┈➤ Watch at least one of the following movies:  

༻Nancy Drew  ༻Dead Poets Society  ༻Mystic Pizza  ༻When Harry Met Sally  ༻Autumn in New York  ༻You've Got Mail ༻Fantastic Mr. Fox 

⟡ Drink an apple cider 

⟡ Have a hot chai 

⟡ Read in a coffee shop 

⟡ Go apple picking 

⟡ Try a fall sangria 

⟡ See a football game 

⟡ Eat pumpkin flavored things 

⟡ Have a fall picnic with friends 

⟡ Attend a local fall themed event 

⟡ Browse a farmers market 

⟡ Go on a nature walk in the evening 

[rizzoreads88]

“Does Tamlin deserve a redemption ARC”

I keep seeing this question everywhere. IMO he fully redeemed himself in ACOWAR

*when he saved Feyre, Azriel, Briar and Elain from hyberns camp. He was physically attacked by hyberns hounds for doing so and he risked his life to do it.

*By dragging in the autumn court to help fight alongside the courts even though they hated him.

*By being a double agent for the courts with Hybern. All the useful intel they got was from Tamlin. He was a big reason why they won the war also. When Tamlin shows up with the autumn court they were losing horribly but because of his intel about the faebane weapons like where they were and how to destroy them that turned the war in their favor.

*When he saves Rhysands life so him and Feyre can go be happy together.

Also at the end of Acowar Feyre writes Tamlin a letter thanking him because even she knows that he did truly help. She also wishes he goes on to find his own happiness. Feyre is happy and has moved on. It’s time for SJM to let Tamlin do the same. He has been held accountable for his actions (one of the only SJM characters who actually was held accountable). Let him heal and move on too now.

Yes we all know the bad things tamlin has done and no one is excusing that but tamlin did ALOT of good things to help all of prythian too. This is a morally grey character. Sometimes they do awful & questionable things but they have good hearts deep down. This is the theme of all of SJM’s characters.

Now ide like to see Tamlin go through a healing ARC on his own first and then get the happy ending he deserves. Whether it be love or a familial one.

[azsazz]

Bloody Knuckles and the Songs of Death (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is everything that Azriel is not. Opposite feelings but equal death in the end.

AKA: Half a rewrite of chapters 43-47 of ACOWAR where reader is now there as part of the Autumn Court, excited to meet Azriel. The other half are my own ideas.

Warnings: Major themes of death, ACOWAR spoilers, blood, gore, mentions of abuse, smut.

Word Count: 3,991

(Part One)

_________________________________________

Absolute silence. Absolute stillness.

The tremor of magic slides through the room as shield after shield locks into place around each High Lord and their retinues. A wave of heat flashes across your face as even Beron’s protective shields come out, and something exciting stirs in your chest because of it. The power flitting through the room weighs heavy on everyone’s shoulders, their faces solemn as they look between each other wearily, sizing each other up, but your lips twitch, itching to break out into a grin.

You can almost smell the bloodshed waiting to happen.

You can’t help but watch how the Night Court participants react to Tamlin’s arrival. Rhysand’s face is set into that well-practiced bored look that Eris had told you about. You can practically feel the dark power rippling beneath his skin.

Feyre tries to school her face into the same cold caution her elder sister wears, but she fails so miserably your laugh nearly slips. Not even the daggers the shadowsinger shoots you has your smile faltering, and you lean in a little closer to Eris beside you, if only to play the part you knew so well as you dismiss him, feeling the embers of Beron’s eyes following your every move. At the sight of the vague distaste on Mor’s face, you’re on the edge of your seat.

Feyre’s discomfort is palpable in the large room that has suddenly shrunk three sizes since the arrival of the missing High Lord. Your attention returns to Tamlin, his gleaming green eyes fixed solely on the new High Lady of Night and her mate.

He smiles broadly, his sharp teeth white as crow-picked bones, the kind that can rip through flesh with the ease of the freshly-sharpened blade at your side, the kind that can land a killing blow with one well placed bite. A shiver slides up your spine at the thought of Tamlin slaughtering someone with those wolfish teeth.

Thesean rises from his lush chair as if to greet the tardy male. His captain remains seated beside him with a hand on his sword.

“We were not expecting you, Tamlin.” Thesean gestures beside him towards his cringing attendants. “Fetch the High Lord a chair.”

Tamlin doesn’t acknowledge Thesean, instead, his eyes stay locked on Feyre and her courtiers.

Something in his smile changes, turning more subdued. You can see clearly the effect it has on Feyre, the way she stiffens under his unfaltering eyes, turning more and more vicious the longer he looks.

He’s clad in a green tunic, the color of full grasses you’d only seen once. He dons no crown, no adornments that show off his wealth like many of the other High Lords. Eris twists his thick gold ring around his first finger, a circlet of leaves that make up his family crest, his only true show of wealth.

Beron is the one who breaks the tense silence and you refrain from rolling your eyes, knowing what punishment it will catch you if he notices.

You still hadn’t fully recovered from his last disciplinary action.

Azriel’s brows furrow in your direction as you shift uncomfortably in your chair, fingers brushing over your sleeve where the mark lays. It’s a fleeting brush of his golden gaze as it hardens on the Autumn Lord two seats down from you.

“I will admit, Tamlin, that I am surprised to see you here.”

Still, the High Lord of Spring does not look away from his prey, watching every breath Feyre takes.

Beron continues anyway, “Rumor claims your allegiance now lies elsewhere.”

You have to give it to the asshole High Lord that you’d very much like to put in the ground. He isn’t afraid to ask the real questions, the ones everyone so desperately wants answered but doesn’t dare ask.

Finally, Tamlin’s gaze shifts, not towards the male speaking to him, but to the shining ring on Feyre’s finger. To the dark swirl of ink etched across her hand, flowing beneath the glittering, pale blue sleeve of her gown. It trails up, up, up to the crown of onyx jewels in her hair, glittering in the sunlight.

Nobody moves.

You’d heard of what she’d done to him and his court. The deceptions, the lies, all of it had spread across Prythian like a wildfire, poisonous and all consuming. What she’d done to him in her rage…you would have to agree that the beast keeping her holed up in his mansion deserved nothing less. If the Autumn and Night Court weren’t on such terrible terms, you think you'd actually like to get to know Feyre and become her friend.

The change in Feyre’s stare is evident. Her molten wrath at the memories of what he’d done to her turns her pale gray eyes into something sharp-edged and brittle.

Thesean’s attendants return, hauling a chair between them. They set it between Oakland and Helion’s entourage. Neither look thrilled about it, Oakland trying to smother the look of disgust with his wine glass, but they aren’t stupid enough to physically recoil as Tamlin sits.

The High Lord of Spring says not one word.

Helion waves a scar-flecked hand and your head tilts as you stare at the pink slashes cutting across his dark skin, curious as to how he’d gotten them. If he’d been close to Death when he’d received such an honor.

“Let’s get on with it, then.”

Thesean clears his throat, but no one looks his way.

Not as Tamlin surveys the hand Rhys has resting on Feyre’s knee.

The loathing in the Spring King’s eyes practically simmers.

Everyone in the room braces themselves as he opens his mouth to speak. 

“It would seem congratulations are in order.”

His words are flat–flat yet sharp as the claws he’s hiding beneath his golden skin. 

Feyre says nothing.

Rhys holds Tamlin’s stare. He holds it with a face like ice, and yet utter rage roils beneath it. A cataclysmic rage, surging and writhing around the room, threatening to take everyone out in a single snap.

But Rhys addresses Thesean instead, who has reclaimed his seat, yet seems far from any sort of ease, “We can discuss the matter at hand later.”

Tamlin tacks on calmly, “Don’t stop on my account.”

The light in Rhysand’s eyes gutters, as if a hand of darkness wipes the very stars from his violet gaze. He reclines in his chair, withdrawing his hand from Feyre’s knee to trace idle circles on his seat’s wooden arm. “I am not in the business of discussing our plans with enemies.”

You, along with Helion, across the reflection pool, grin like lions.

“No,” Tamlin replies with equal ease, “You’re just in the business of fucking them.”

The entire Court goes silent.

Cassian, Azriel, and Mor are as still as Death, fury rippling off of them in silent waves, something that has utter delight rushing through your veins. As if Eris can feel your excitement, he places a hand over your knee under the table where no eyes can see, not that anyone is paying the two of you any attention anyway, not while there is something far more interesting to watch.

He squeezes softly in warning. 

Don’t fuck this up.

Whether Tamlin notices the courtier's anger or cares that the three of the deadliest people in the room are contemplating his demise, he doesn't let on.

Your mouth parts slightly to taste the air. It’s all you give yourself for now, the metallic tang of bloodshed waiting to happen. You want to feel that red warmth across your skin, ache for the slickness between your fingers, painting your skin crimson, warm like the Death you love so dear.

Rhysand only shrugs, smiling faintly. “Seems a far less destructive alternative to war.”

“And yet here you are, having started it in the first place.”

The Night Court ruler’s blink is the only sign of his confusion.

A claw slides out of Tamlin’s knuckle.

Kallias tenses, a hand drifting to the arm of Viviane’s chair–as if he’ll throw himself in front of it. Honorable of him. But Tamlin only drags his claw lightly down the carved arm of his own chair. You’re wickedly transported to the thoughts of all of the times you’d done the same with your blade, watching the life drain from your foe’s eyes. Your stare becomes more intense. 

Tamlin smiles at Feyre knowingly, the High Ladies pallor turning white as the motion triggers something within her.

“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.”

Feyre says quietly, “The sun was shining when I left you.”

Your smile hurts.

Green eyes slide to her once more, glazed and foreign. He lets out a low snort, then looks away just as quickly.

Dismissal.

Kallias asks, “Why are you here, Tamlin?”

Tamlin’s claw digs into the wood, puncturing deep even as his voice remains mild. “I bartered access to my lands to get back the woman I love from a sadist who plays with minds as if they are toys. I meant to fight Hybern–to find a way around the bargain I made with the king once she was back. Only Rhysand and his cabal had turned her into one of them. And she delighted in ripping open my territory for Hybern to invade. All for a petty grudge–either her or her…master’s.”

“You don’t get to rewrite the narrative,” Feyre breathes. “You don’t get to spin this to your advantage.”

Tamlin angles his head at Rhys. “When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?”

The grin drops from your face.

Feyre’s cheeks are stained red. This isn’t an outright battle, but a steady, careful shredding of her dignity, her credibility. Beron beams and your stomach churns at his delight–while Eris carefully monitors.

Rhys turns his head, looking Feyre over from head to toe. Then back to Tamlin. A storm about to be unleashed.

But it’s Azriel who says, his voice like cold death, “Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.”

A shiver works its way up your spine. Something preens in your chest at his words, at the open threat on his face, bright eyes dark with the shroud of Death itself.

Surprise flashes in Tamlin’s eyes–then vanishes. Vanishes, swallowed by the pure fury as he realizes what that tattoo coating Feyre’s hand is for. “It was not enough to sit at my side, was it?” A hateful smile curls his lips. “You once asked me if you’d be my High Lady, and when I said no…”

A low laugh. “Perhaps I underestimated you. Why serve in my court, when you could rule in his?”

Tamlin finally faces the other gathered High Lords and their retinues. “They peddle tales of defending our land and peace. And yet she came to my lands and laid them bare for Hybern. She took my High Priestess and warped her mind–after she shattered her bones for spite. And if you are asking yourself what happened to that human girl who went Under the Mountain to save us…Look to the male sitting beside her. Ask what he stands to gain–what they stand to gain from this war, or lack of it. Would we fight Hybern, only to find ourselves with a Queen and King of Prythian? She’s proved her ambition–and you saw how he was more than happy to serve Amarantha to remain unscathed.”

You catch Feyre holding back a snarl at the heinous words aimed at her mate.

Rhys releases a dark laugh. “Well played, Tamlin. You’re learning.”

Ire contorts Tamlin’s face at the condescension. But he faces Kallias. “You asked why I’m here? I might ask the same of you.” He jerks his chin at the High Lord of Winter, at Viviane–the few other members of their retinue who remain silent. “You mean to tell me that after Under the Mountain, you can stomach working with him?” A finger flung in Rhysand’s direction.

The silvery glow about Kallias dulls.

Even Viviane seems to dim. “We came here to decide that for ourselves.”

Mor stares at her friend in quiet questioning. Viviane, for the first time since the Night Court had arrived, does not look toward her. Only at her mate.

Rhys says softly to them, to everyone, “I had no involvement in that. None.”

Kallias’s eyes flare like blue flame. “You stood beside her throne while the order was given.”

There isn’t anything anyone can do, except watch Rhys’ golden skin pale. “I tried to stop it.”

“Tell that to the parents of the two dozen younglings she butchered,” Kallias says, and this time you don’t feel that loving caress of Death, you only hurt for the children that had been ripped away from their parents at such a young age. You know that Death herself will take the best care of them, and sometimes not all death can be justified. “That you tried.”

Rhys’ mouth tightens. “There is not one day that passes when I don’t remember it,” he says to Kallias, to Viviane. To their companions. “Not one day.”

“Remembering,” Kallias answers, “Doesn’t bring them back, does it?”

“No,” Rhys says plainly. “No, it doesn’t. And I am now fighting to make sure it never happens again.”

Viviane glances between her husband and Rhys. “I was not present Under the Mountain. But I would hear, High Lord, how you tried to–stop her.” Pain tightens her face. She, too, had been unable to prevent it while she guarded her small slice of territory.

You had heard the whispers of things of what happened during Under the Mountain and snippets of what Eris could choke out, but you had never really believed it to be much truth as it came from the gossipping handmaids of the Autumn Court manor that you were bound to, even while the High Lord and his family were trapped below.

Rhys says nothing.

Beron snorts, the sound makes you cringe. “Finally speechless, Rhysand?”

Feyre’s hand slips to Rhys’ arm. Tamlin marks it, but she doesn’t seem to care. She says to her mate, not bothering to keep her voice down, “I believe you.”

“Says the woman,” Beron counters, and it’s all you can do to not look like you’re a part of their façade as a unified family. “Who gave an innocent girl’s name in her stead–for Amarantha to butcher as well.”

Rhys swallows and Feyre’s grip tightens on his arm.

His voice is rough as he says to Kallias, “When your people rebelled…” And you recall exactly how Winter had rebelled against Amarantha. And the children…that had been Amarantha’s answer. Her punishment for disobedience. “She was furious. She wanted you dead, Kallias.”

Viviane’s face drains of color.

Rhys continues, “I…convinced her that it would serve little purpose.”

“Who knew,” Beron muses, “That a cock could be so persuasive?”

“Father.” Eris’ voice is low with warning. His hand tightens on your knee.

For Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Feyre fix their gazes upon the High Lord of Autumn. None of them are smiling.

They look as though Eris might become High Lord sooner than he plans.

That flutter kicks up in your stomach again at the lethal looks in their eyes, especially that extra sparkle in Azriel’s.

If only you could help make that happen.

But Rhys goes on to Kallias, “She backed off the idea of killing you. Your rebels were dead–I convinced her it was enough. I thought it was the end of it.” His breathing hitches slightly. “I only found out when you did. I think she viewed my defense of you as a warning sign–she didn’t tell me any of it. And she kept me…confined. I tried to break into the minds of the soldiers she sent, but her damper on my power was too strong to hold them–and it was already done. She…she sent a daemati with them. To…” He falters, but you all know what had happened. The children’s minds–they’d been shattered. Rhys swallows. “I think she wanted you to suspect me. To keep us from ever allying against her.”

What he must have witnessed within those soldiers’ minds…

“Where did she confine you?” The question comes from Viviane, her arms wrapped around her middle.

No one is entirely ready for it when Rhys answers, “Her bedroom.”

His friends do not hide their rage, their grief at the details he’d kept even from them.

“Stories and words,” Tamlin says, lounging in his chair. Your anger flares like the fires of the Court you’ve been chained to for nearly a century. “Is there any proof?”

“Proof–” Cassian snarls, half rising in his seat, his wings starting to flare.

“No,” Rhys cuts in as Mor blocks Cassian with an arm, forcing him to sit. Rhys adds to Kallias, “But I swear it–upon my mate’s life.” His hand rests atop of Feyre’s.

Your stomach whorls at the realization that he must have known what coming here, presenting his front just as they are, would cost him. What he might have to reveal beyond the wings he’s managed to hide so well for so long.

Tamlin rolls his eyes. You can see the utter restraint Feyre has to keep her from lunging for him–from ripping out his eyes in the name of her mate.

But whatever Kallias reads in Rhys’ face, his words…he pins Tamlin with a hard stare as he asks again, “Why are you here, Tamlin?”

A muscle flickers in Tamlin’s jaw. “I am here to help you fight against Hybern.”

“Bullshit,” Cassian mutters, and you silently agree, catching his glowering gaze with a slight nod of your head. His brows twitch into a furrow before he dismisses you, untrusting of the pet so cozied up to Autumn.

Tamlin glares at him. Cassian, folding his wings in neatly as he leans back in his chair once more, offers him a crooked grin in return.

“You will forgive us,” Thesean interrupts gracefully, “If we are doubtful. And hesitant to share any plans.”

“Even when I have information on Hybern’s movements?” 

Silence. Tarquin, across the pool, watches and listens–either because he’s the youngest of them, or perhaps he knows some advantage that lies in letting them battle it out themselves.

Tamlin smiles at Feyre again. “Why do you think I invited them to the house? Into my lands?” He lets out a low snarl, and Rhys tenses in his seat at the sound. “I once told you I would fight against tyranny, against that sort of evil. Did you think you were enough to turn me from that?” His teeth shine white as bone. “It was so easy for you to call me a monster, despite all I did for you, for your family.” A sneer towards Nesta, who is frowning with distaste. “Yet you witnessed all that he did Under the Mountain, and still spread your legs for him. Fitting, I suppose. He whored for Amarantha for decades. Why shouldn’t you be his whore in return?”

“Watch your mouth,” Mor snaps. 

Tamlin ignores her wholly and waves a hand towards Rhysand’s wings. “I sometimes forget–what you are. Have the masks come off now, or is this another ploy?”

“You’re beginning to become tedious, Tamlin,” Helion says, propping his head on a hand. “Take your lovers’ spat elsewhere and let the rest of us discuss this war.”

“You’d be all too happy for war, considering how well you made out in the last one.”

“No one says war can’t be lucrative,” Helion counters. Tamlin’s lip curls in a silent snarl that makes you wonder if he’d gone to Helion to break Feyre’s bargain with Rhys–if Helion had refused.

“Enough,” Kallias says. “We have our opinions on how the conflict with Hybern should be dealt with.” Those glacial eyes harden as he takes in Tamlin again. “Are you here as an ally of Hybern or Prythian?” 

The mocking, hateful gleam fades into granite resolve. “I stand against Hybern.”

“Prove it,” Helion goads.

Tamlin lifts his hand, and a stack of papers appears on the little table beside his chair. “Charts of armies, ammunition, caches of faebane…Everything carefully gleaned these months.”

“Noble as it sounds,” Helion continues, “Who is to say that the information is correct–or that you aren’t Hybern’s agent, trying to mislead us?”

“Who is to say that Rhysand and his cronies are not agents of Hybern, all of this a ruse to get you to yield without realizing it?”

Nesta murmurs, “You can’t be serious.” Mor gives her a look as if to say that he certainly is.

“If we need to ally against Hybern,” Thesean said, “You are doing a good job of convincing us not to band together, Tamlin.”

“I am simply warning you that they might present the guise of honesty and friendship, but the fact remains that he warmed Amarantha’s bed for fifty years, and only worked against her when it seemed the tide was turning. I’m warning you that while he claims his own city was attacked by Hybern, they made off remarkably well–as if they’d been anticipating it. Don’t think he wouldn’t sacrifice a few buildings and lesser faeries to lure you into an alliance, into thinking you had a common enemy. Why is it that only the Night Court got word about the attack on Adriata–and were the only ones to arrive in time to play savior?”

“They received word,” Varian cuts in coolly, “Because I warned them of it.”

Tarquin whips his head to his cousin, brows high with surprise.

“Perhaps you’re working with them, too,” Tamlin said to the Prince of Adriata. “You’re next in line, after all.”

“You’re insane,” Feyre breathes to Tamlin as Varian bares his teeth. “Do you hear what you’re saying?” She points toward Nesta. “Hybern turned my sisters into Fae–after your bitch of a priestess sold them out!”

“Perhaps Ianthe’s mind was already in Rhysand’s thrall. And what a tragedy to remain young and beautiful. You’re a good actress–I’m sure the trait runs in the family.”

Nesta lets out a low laugh. “If you want someone to blame for all of this,” she says to Tamlin, “Perhaps you should first look in the mirror.”

Tamlin snarls at her and your excitement returns. You may see some action after all.

Casisan snarls right back, “Watch it.”

Tamlin looks between Feyre’s sister and Cassian–his gaze lingering on Cassian’s wings, tucked in behind him. Snorts. “Seems like other preferences run in the Archeron family, too.”

Feyre’s power begins to rumble throughout the room–a behemoth rising up, yawning awake.

“What do you want?” She hisses. “An apology? For me to crawl back into your bed and play nice, little wife?”

“Why should I want spoiled goods returned to me?”

Her cheeks flare.

Tamlin growls, “The moment you let him fuck you like an–”

One heartbeat, the poisoned words spew from his mouth–where fangs lengthen.

Then they stop.

Tamlin’s mouth simply stops emitting sounds. He shuts his mouth, opens it–tries again.

No sound, not even a snarl, comes out.

There is no smile on Rhysand’s face, not a glint of that irreverent amusement as he rests his head against the back of his chair. “The gasping-fish look is a good one for you, Tamlin.”

The others, who have been watching with disdain and boredom, now turn to the High Lord of Night. Now possessing a shadow of fear in their eyes as they realize who and what, exactly, sits amongst them.

You can’t help but to smile again. Wicked.

Brethren, and yet not. Tamlin is a High Lord, as powerful as any of them.

Except for the one at Feyre’s side. Rhys is different from them as humans are to Fae. 

They forgot it, sometimes–how deep that well of power goes. What manner of power Rhys bears.

But as Rhysand rips away Tamlin’s ability to speak, they remember.