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kpopnstarwars · 2 months

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Within the Storms of Giedi Prime: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: the long awaited part two of upon the sands of the arena is hereeee

tw: 18+, smut (more than last time hehehe), p in v, swearing, Feels™, death, assassination, use of the Voice (not on feyd), less violence but still violence, i lack faith in my sequel writing abilities, blowjobs, SUB FEYDDDD, also DOM FEYDDD, sex Outside, lightning and thunder (it says storms in the title what do you expect)

wc: 4.2k

part 1

Giedi Prime is a miserable planet.

It’s evident in the choking, black smog from the factories in the dense air fused with the anguished cries of overworked slaves and the distant rumble of the still active volcanos. You’re near the Harkonnen’s palace grounds - you’re heading towards them, actually, and the promise of a… pleasant night; to your left, you can just about glimpse the looming silhouette of the great arena, squatting like a hulking beast on the horizon, waiting to swallow any poor soul that gets too close to its gaping maw.

Tonight, roiling storm clouds reign the sky, sending sheets of furious rain pounding down upon anyone who dares to be out at this hour - including you. Harsh bolts of lightning spear down, hurtling towards the ground like incensed, condensed moonlight and casting freakish shadows.

Moonlight: the colour of Feyd’s skin. If it weren’t for him, you’d already be off this sorry planet - alas, you must stay a little longer, your body already a little warm at the memory of his skilled fingers and scorching gaze. You haven’t been back since the encounter with the na-Baron in the arena months ago, and you can’t help but feel the sting of doubt in your chest, wondering if he’ll still want a second time, or if you’ll sneak into his room only to find yourself replaced by a concubine.

Not that you occupy significance to him anyway, you remind yourself. Feyd-Rautha could not replace you, because there would be nothing to replace, just ashes of a once bright fire.

Irked by the weakness of your own mind, you pull the hood of your cloak lower over your face, tightening it across your shoulders. The hem is sullied by browning blood: you disposed of your quarry just this morning, and delivered the decapitated head during the early afternoon.

Conveniently, the Bene Gesserit have left you alone for now, most likely tangled in the politics regarding the Kwisatz Haderach while trying to predict the next movement of Jessica Atreides - word is that she has burrowed her way deeper into the desert, surrounding herself and her son with the more fanatic of the Fremen as she bides her time, ready for her next strike.

It means that you’ve been granted enough time to establish yourself as a bounty hunter. For a highly trained Bene Gesserit, the work is easy, and earns you coin a plenty while keeping you on the move and as in shape as assassinating sloppy idiots attempting to run from debt and petty disagreements can.

Slipping through the palace’s perimeter proves easy enough. You use the Voice on a few guards, preferring it to cutting their throats: instructing them to keep quiet and forget you passed by causes much less of a commotion. The scaling of the ramparts that make up the circumference of the inner palace is the most challenging, due to the stone being slick with moss and rain - your fingers dig into the cracks between the weathered blocks of stone, the wind snapping and tugging at your cloak, fiercer now that you’re higher up.

There’s a narrow battlement ringing one side of Feyd’s room. You land on it silently, padding over to the window sill; curtains made of heavy black fabric layered on a dark, wispy privacy layer shroud most of your view of him. His pale skin is almost luminescent under the jagged flashes of lightning bathing his quarters, the blanket having slipped half off him during the night. He lies with his bare back facing you, although it’s hardly a vulnerability - you doubt anyone would be able to creep up on him easily enough to bury a knife into his exposed back without him tearing their throat out first.

Apart from you - hopefully.

Carefully, you ease the window open. A frigid gust of air rushes in as you climb through, and you witness the exact moment that Feyd awakens and becomes aware of your presence; imperceptibly, the muscles in his back ripple before he settles again - you posticipate the feel of them under your palms, hard, lean, perfect for sinking your nails into.

A thrill rushes through you at the sight of him, a sort of wondrous feeling, keen as a knife and just as cutting. You want him all over you, you want him to consume you until all you can remember is him and his smouldering eyes and sensuous touch.

Shrugging off your cloak, you let it pool to the floor around your feet before toeing off your shoes too; breath caught in your throat, you steal over to his bedside, your hand ghosting over the solid curve of his shoulder blade before you grip his shoulder, turning him so his back is flat against the mattress and straddling him in one fluid motion.

The cold kiss of metal meets your neck.

You almost moan at the look on his face. His lips are pulled back in a snarl, his eyes wild, frenzied almost, glittering with the same danger as before. Running your hands up his hard, sculpted chest, you smirk down at him, watching as ever so slowly, his gelid gaze defrosts with recognition, the ice giving way to those all encompassing flames, flames that you surrender to unequivocally.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ you murmur, fingers circling his wrist.

Feyd blinks, watching you as if he’s going to eat you as always. Slowly, the hand not wielding the knife roams waywardly down your spine, grabs a harsh fistful of your ass and lingers before gliding upwards and settling on your waist. He huffs, an abrupt, amused sound, but you don’t miss the way he greedily drinks up your figure with his eyes.

‘I thought I scared you away, little witch. Presumably, it was not too much for you?’

‘For me?’ You muse. ‘We’ll see.’

Knocking the blade from his hand, you ignore the screeching noise it makes as it skitters across the stone floor, instead enjoying the subtle inhale, loaded with expectancy, that Feyd takes as you lean in close to him. You hover above him for a prolonged moment, arms boxing him in, before he lurches upwards, connecting your lips with his.

A growl sounds at the back of his throat when he tastes you, licking into your mouth as his fingers press at the small of your back, bringing your lower body to meet his. Rolling his hips against yours, he tangles his fingers in your hair; you feel giddy with the feel of him against you, solid and warm and wanting, so real beneath you, so fucking insatiable.

You can’t get enough of him.

Slowly, you pull away, ablaze with the ravening craving in his eyes. The muscles in his well shaped chest flex as he tips his face up, following your lips, and you smile disarmingly at him, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his trousers and pulling them down.

Taking his chin in your palm, you tilt his head so you can look him in the eyes before swiping your thumb over his lower lip, savouring the way he’s putty in your hands: a man destined to be the Baron of one of the most influential, powerful Houses in the Imperium, a lethal, strikingly skilled warrior, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, humbled by your touch.

‘Let me taste you,’ you breathe - it’s almost a command.

‘Please,’ he chokes out, imploring you with his eyes.

Laughing, you press a hand to his sternum and push. He sinks back into the mattress, compliant, and you trail your lips down his neck and sternum, leaving hickeys in your wake. You're seized by the need to make him shake and beg and cry; you want to devour him.

Dragging your nails cruelly down his thighs, branding him with livid red scratches, you tilt your head to the side, a smile playing upon your lips as you listen to the groan that leaves him, the pricks of pain setting him alight with longing. There’s a devout look in his eyes - a fervent, zealous sort of lust that stirs within you with the impulse to make him forget his own name.

Curling your fingers around his hard length and giving him a few pumps, you watch him under your lashes, something akin to a power rush spinning your head around and around. Feyd is wonderfully sensitive, and a sneer pulls at your lips when his fingers scramble for purchase, fisting in his silky sheets as you press a chaste, loitering kiss to his cock head - a pearl of jet precum sits at the apex of it, dark against its rosy, delicate flush.

Dipping your hand into your pants, you collect your slick on your fingers and use it to jerk him - when you glance up, his pupils are blown wide; lips parted, he stares at you, transfixed.

Eyes locked on his, you take him in your mouth: his thighs tighten, every muscle taut as you run your tongue along the veins wrapped around the underside of his cock. His head tips back, displaying the strong lines of his neck as you hollow your cheeks, rubbing your thighs together to ease the increasing ache between them. Jaw slack, you gag when he hits the back of your throat, and he growls at the sight of your hungry eyes growing watery.

You toy with him, teasing him with your tongue and grazing your teeth lightly over his length until he’s gasping your name; the way the syllables leave his tongue is almost pleading, his chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, his thighs shuddering, wracked with tremors.

It’s evident that he’s close, the voracity in his eyes so hot that it melts your bones, sending heat pooling in your core - you’re going to let him wreck your cunt after this; ruin you for any other man. Trembling, his pale fingers hover near your head, splaying over the expanse of your shoulder, his eyes fucking begging for permission, so you pull off him, laughing as his hips jolt forward at the loss, his cock twitching when your fingertips graze his balls.

‘Go on, Feyd,’ you coax. ‘Do as you wish.’

A tender, honeyed noise rips from low in his chest, almost a whimper, a sound you know no one has extracted from him before. It’s the only warning before he fists his hand in your hair, hips bucking as he fucks into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as you gag around him, the debased moan that escapes you sending vibrations down his cock.

You almost black out when he comes down your throat. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of air reaching your lungs or the sweet pain of Feyd’s hand yanking at your hair, but you’re sure that you’ve never taken so much pleasure in someone else’s release. Slowly, you sit up, moving to lie beside Feyd, and he smiles dumbly at you, maybe a little fucked out as he leans in to kiss you, sighing as he tastes his own come on your tongue.

‘I could spend hours exploring you, my little witch,’ he says, pressing his lips to your jaw.

Feyd flips you over with only an echo of ferocity from your previous fight, disrobing you and gripping your thighs, spreading them. Your hands find his shoulders, his back, your fingers resting in the dips of muscle there, trailing down the length of his spine as his own find your slick, yearning cunt.

Outside, the storm blows harder, rain pounding down upon the planet’s surface in sheets, lightning lancing through the thick billows of clouds; it is during one of these strikes that you glimpse that Feyd’s eyes are not as dark as they seem, but the colour of glaciers and blue fire. Within them, just beneath the keenness of his electric gaze, lurks something else - something that makes you hesitate. He senses it immediately, fingers pausing their movement, so you fit your lips to his.

You kiss him to avoid the emotions roiling in his stormy eyes.

He responds immediately, and you easily dismiss the thoughts clouding your mind; he barely knows you, there’s no room for the feelings you just saw in his gaze. You seek his body, not his soul, and it is the same both ways.

‘Fuck me,’ you mumble against his lips.

All coherent sentences leave your mind when he flips you over again, this time with your stomach pressed to his bedsheets as he kneels on the mattress behind you.

‘Ass up, my little witch,’ he commands.

Something within you goes molten at the sound of his voice. You can feel his gaze straying all over your skin, greedy, so you tuck your knees beneath you and arch your back, biting down on your lower lip as his palm presses against your lower vertebrae. He chuckles; it warms your bones.

‘You’re so filthy, little witch, displaying yourself for me.’

Bolts of ecstasy shoot through you as Feyd slides his cock head through your folds, his broad hands gripping your hips so tightly that you’ll be left with bruises. Your breath is punched from your lungs when he sinks himself inside you, balls deep, white hot pleasure rocketing down your spine - it tears a wretched cry from you, more so when he starts a brutal, near sadistic pace, the angle destroying you with vicious bliss.

The drag of his searing, velvet cock on your walls makes your toes curl. You think your body might shatter into a million pieces, the way he plucks the euphoria from it so agonisingly, so beautifully. One of his hands finds its way between your thighs, his thumb rolling endlessly over your clit; you find yourself teetering on the edge, suspended there a moment before you fall.

The way your cunt convulses around his cock as you come doesn’t stop Feyd. Unforgiving, he ploughs into you, his fingers still working on your clit, not breaking his rhythm even as you writhe beneath him, trying to jerk your hips away from his to no avail. It’s too much, the pleasure melting delectably into pain and still he can’t stop, won’t stop, his low snarl a warning in your ear as he pins you to the mattress with a hand between your shoulder blades, leaving you helpless to do nothing but take him.

Tears well up in your eyes, soaking into the sheets beneath you as he rails into you, his fingers speeding up on your clit until you’re begging him, tremors shooting through you from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is unrelenting, and you sob as his pace increases, the savage friction sending you over again.

For the second time, you come hard around him, pussy clenching and fluttering, ragged cries wracking your body. This time, you bring Feyd with you, the sound he makes sharp and almost pained. He pulls out, and you mewl at the sharp tug of friction, panting as he comes on your back and ass, claiming you with his dark seed.

Breathless, he sits back on his heels as you straighten your legs until you lie full stretch, revelling in the post orgasmic rapture. Dimly, you hear his footsteps on the stone floor, but you pay them no mind, instead letting your eyelids droop as you rest your chin in the crook of your elbow.

Gentle hands encircle your ankles, carefully opening your legs. A second later, you feel a warm cloth at the apex of your thighs, and you whine, flinching away from the overstimulation. You hear Feyd’s chuckle, and the comforting sweep of his thumb against your skin as he cleans you up, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses on your back as he does; barely a moment after, the mattress dips, and strong arms pull you into a warm chest.

‘How are you, my little witch?’

You hum in response, not wanting to use words. Something niggles at your brain, even through the haze of pleasure. It’s got to do with the na-Baron’s gentleness after he fucks you; it unsettles you, the sweetness of him, and now these words, as if you’re a lover, and not… whatever this is.

One of his wide palms runs up and down your ribs, and you shove those thoughts to the side, instead enjoying his touch, the way your body fits into his, his chest pressed against your front as he traces patterns on your skin with his deft fingers; his lips brushing the nape of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. You find yourself curling away from him a little - his hands on you make something deep in your chest stir to life, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s -

A blinding flash of lightning, followed by the deep, throaty growl of thunder illuminates the room. You’re facing the door: in the crack between its solid masonry and the floor, you glimpse a shadow.

Hastily, you turn, one hand meeting Feyd’s chest, fingers falling into the dip his collarbone makes as you search his eyes, urgent. He stares back at you, not quite guarded, but not quite open any more, and you’re filled with the urge to protect.

‘Give me your knife,’ you hiss.

He sits up halfway. ‘What’s - ’

You push him back down, glaring at his resistance. You can sense the change in the air, hear the subtle scrape of someone’s boot across the stone floor and the swish of clothing behind the door - or maybe it’s just the building storm outside, the escalating charge in the sky as another bolt of lightning is generated.

‘Feyd. Give me your knife.’

Eyes quizzical, he produces it from somewhere behind him, handing it to you hilt first. It’s just in time, because the door swings open, a masked figure silhouetted there. You whirl around, covering Feyd’s body with your own.

They’re holding a knife.

It doesn’t take you a moment longer to send your knife hurtling towards them. The blade seethes through the air before embedding itself with a thunk into the assassin’s shoulder, and as they drop to the floor, you’re up in another second, poised in case there’s another. A flash of movement catches your eye - the dropped knife, retrieved and held in blood soaked fingers.

‘Stand down,’ you snap.

The Voice echoes through the room, and you pluck the knife out of the now frozen assassin’s grasp and slit his throat. Turning, you see the glimmer of amusement and awe in Feyd’s eyes; assassination attempts probably occur often, an estranged Bene Gesserit using the Voice in his room less so.

‘So many people seem eager to sneak into my bed chamber tonight,’ he remarks. ‘Although I must admit I preferred the first one.’

You laugh, collecting your clothes off the floor. ‘I’m glad.’

As you pull on your trousers, followed closely by your shirt, Feyd gets up, and you’re struck by the slow manner in which he approaches you, so much like the way he prowled towards you in the arena, but this time his eyes concerningly soft, his deadly, killing machine of a body marked with hickeys and love bites.

‘Why do you always rush to leave so fast, my little witch?’

‘I - I have places to be,’ you stammer.

He tilts his head. ‘At this hour of the night?’

‘...Yes.’

Feyd takes one step closer, close enough to kiss. ‘What are you afraid of?’

You back towards the window. ‘I fear nothing.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he warns. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

Shaking your head, panic rising in your throat, you turn, the glass chilly on your fingers as you open the window. Feyd catches your other hand, but you whirl around and lash out, a blow to the face followed by a blow to the legs, and he staggers backwards, giving you enough time to slip out of the window and onto the battlements.

Outside, the storm has whipped up, the howling wind tearing at your hood and blowing it off, the rain immediately pouring down to soak your hair, sting your eyes, wet your face. You need to run, you need to get away from him, but the weak part of you - the part that you fear - slows your strides, tugging at you as if it’s tied to Feyd somehow.

He catches up to you easily enough.

Of course he does, he is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, and he is inexplicably bound to your soul in a way you cannot describe, in a way that terrifies you, shakes you to your very core. He catches your with a hand around your upper arm and presses you to his chest, your treacherous body reacting to him the way it always has as he stares down at you with those burning, icy eyes, droplets of rain running in rivulets down the moonlight planes of his chest.

Unease tears through you. You see it in his eyes, that he feels it too, and you dread the way it does not disquiet him. Your soul feels like it’s slowly rending in two - you need to get away from him, from the unguarded way he regards you, dedication clear in his unwavering gaze, but all the same, you need to remain with his arms trapping you to him, in the bewildering magnetism of his psyche.

‘Tell me what you fear, my little witch.’

You answer through clenched teeth. ‘I am not yours.’

‘You evade my question.’

You stare at Feyd, confounded. This man before you is the same man that you duelled in the arena, yet he is different; there is a certainty in his eyes, an acceptance that you yourself flee from. You’re drawn to him, even as the instincts that have kept your hollow heart intact all these years squall for you to break loose - and yet you fear that too, the evasion, because you know that if you run now, a part of you will be lost, snapped under the tension.

‘What do you - ’

You cut Feyd off. ‘Do you know what I fear, Harkonnen? I fear the look in your eyes, because it’s not just desire any more. You do not seek me in order that I inflict pain and pleasure alike upon you, you seek something else. I fear the look in your eyes because it is the same feeling that rises traitorously in my chest when I look at you, and it terrifies me.’

He’s silent.

You grab his shoulder. ‘Tell me you feel nothing, Feyd. Tell me you crave me for the thrill of adrenaline and the feel of my body - tell me and do not lie.’

His eyes bore into yours. ‘I cannot.’

‘Exactly.’

You wrest yourself from his grasp, turning and striding down the battlements. A strange feeling overtakes you, a prickle behind your eyes and a lump in your throat, an aching tug at your heart which you stalwartly ignore. It is over - you’re done. He made it harder than it ever had to be, but you’re going now.

He grabs your hand. ‘You cannot either, my little witch.’

Struggling, you snarl at him, clawing at your chest, but he pins you to the wall, his eyes aflame, searing, calling to something in you that rises up to meet him. This time, it is too strong; you cannot push it down, a part of you not even wanting to. You can feel Feyd all over you, your senses overwhelmed by him, by the way he presses his forehead to yours, forcing you to meet his gaze.

‘You do not have to fear it,’ he whispers. ‘Just let go. You’re holding on too tight.’

He dips his head, claiming your lips. You give in, yield to it, let it wash over you and carry you away on its blissful waves, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he touches you, tenderly, as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon; this is not Feyd, but this is him, irrefutably so.

You think this might be love.

It is a wild, white hot blade in your heart that twists, beauteous, enthralling. You believed that it would weaken you, shackle you, but you blaze with the glorious flare of it, the kiss of Feyd’s hips against yours stoking it further. Truly, it is magnificent.

In the only way you know how, you show him. It’s cataclysmic, the way you’re pulled to him like a comet caught in a planet’s gravity, streaking towards him, fated to collide, your hands roving over him, his over you, the taste of rain blooming on your tongue as you bite down on his shoulder, muffling a moan as he ekes sweet, tender pleasure from you. Your head tips back against the stone, eyes raised to the weeping sky, your lips parted as he fills you with his cock.

Feyd looks at you as if you are a goddess. He worships you, cradles you in his arms, anchoring you, grounding you. You do not know where he ends and you begin, nor do you want to know; you wish for your souls to meld, you wish for the two of you to be alone in the universe, unbothered by time or fate or anything.

‘You are mine, little witch,’ he intones against your rain soaked skin. ‘I am yours.’

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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God, I love the Cave Boy series. Will the batfam manage to find him after he dips. Will they ever find out about his powers. So many questions

Danny stays underground for days.

He doesn't know the exact time frame because he only goes to the surface to grab supplies. He makes sure to only fully emerge when there is no light out.

It was a bigger risk to be caught by the Waynes, who only operated in the dark, but it ensured fewer eyewitnesses were around. Danny Kane was still a very hot celebrity for taking down the Joker- he would be surrounded by a mob of fans if he walked down the street.

He moved his ship into a deeper cave by phasing the large metal and all his equipment through solid rock, which was not easy. It was a miracle he found a little pocket to set up shop.

Danny thinks the little pocket- surrounded by stone with no opening at all, was formed after a cave-in at one point. It was large enough to work on his ship and had just enough space to set up a sleeping bag and a tent for rest.

He rarely uses that space nowadays.

Danny had stolen from a camping store- taking with him an entire box of lanterns that he placed strategically around his space. They threw light to the large four walls of stone- making him feel trapped inside a midevil dungeon, and somehow, it also made him think incredulity alone.

That was the worst part of this whole change of scenery. He doesn't want to admit it, but he got used to Wayne Manor and the colorful characters there.

He hadn't even done anything besides lay around but he missed the sound of people. Even before Bruce had found him, Danny would see people often as he wandered around gathering a sense of the city.

Now, he was genuinely suffocating alone. He didn't feel the loss often, but there were times when it felt like being hit by a truck.

It's when his own ice powers reach into his bones, causing his teeth to clatter and curl up into a smaller ball on the cave ground, that Danny misses the Manor the most. He stole food from the stores- but without any way to cook or heat it up, it's limited to the packed food.

Sometimes, while eating packs of dried fruit, he thinks longingly of Alfred's warm meals. Then he remembers how they looked at him when his lies got so out of hand that they believed Bruce's parents lived in his world and he could suppress the longing to return.

Danny has made leaps and bounds on building his ship since he no longer pretends to be Brucie. He no longer filled the hours with nonsense, only being awake to work or stealing what he needed to continue working.

Unlike before, Danny had developed a tunnel version of finishing his project. He no longer wanted to give himself time to ensure everything was fine.

He just wanted to go home.

He's gotten better at wielding using his own ghost laser, and now his ship had its full body. It was missing seats, a window, and even a steering program that actually turned when he wanted- but he was getting closer and closer every day.

All the small technology pieces he stole from the Waynes were on one side- ripped apart for the needed parts. He would spend hours carefully opening everything to check what he could use and what he could melt down to repurpose.

Danny carefully pulls out some small wires from the electric candle he took from the Wayne Dinner table when his vision blurs. He takes a moment to blink rapidly, trying to let the sudden burst of lightheadedness pass him.

Sadly, it was only a few seconds before he crumbled to the hard ground. He gasps, the cold coming back tenfold, and he can do nothing but lay there and pray the pain passes.

Danny hadn't felt this weak since his ice core first developed. Even the first Ghostly Wail hadn't made his limbs feel this heavy.

He knows he has been pushing himself too far lately- barely eating or sleeping- but Danny can't risk any wasted second. He saw the resources the Bats have.

It was only a matter of time before they found him- even if they would need to drill through the solid stone for hours to reach him- and he didn't want to face them after the guilt of lying to them was slowly eating him alive.

He had kept the Wayne at arm's length the entire time, living under the pretense of being Bruce Wayne's counterpart. He told himself he wanted nothing to do with their nightly battle against evil- and he didn't!- and that he could care less if they treated him as family.

He took everything they gave him without hesitation, telling himself they were fools for letting anyone in and stealing from them. Danny thought it would not matter as he would finish his ship and be flying home long before they realized he wasn't Bruce.

Until they stop treating him so warmly after killing the Joker. Danny wasn't sorry about it, but suddenly, he was a stranger in a crowd to them.

Danny had no right to be upset. He lied. He didn't want to be Brucie to them and had actively made Tim look bad by being as Unproactive as possible, going along with changed narratives of his world.

Danny had used the Waynes.

Yes, he did so, believing they were a cult or an evil madman, but he learned that wasn't the case early on. He could have ended the lie at any moment, but he didn't because he figured it would be harmless.

Then he realized that Bruce's parents were killed in front of him- the story wasn't hard to find when he actually bothered to look into the Waynes at a local high school library after hours.

Not only did he find the horrific story, but he found out that almost all the Waynes had a tragic story. Dick's parents were murdered in an accident that wasn't an accident at all.

Tim's parents were killed by a madman with boomerangs. Jason's father died in prison, and his mother overdosed before Bruce took him in. Duke's parents were patients with no working mind because of the Joker (Danny should have made his death last longer).

The only ones that didn't seem to be Cass and Damian, but he knew it was likely due to Bruce not wanting the public to learn that they came from abusive households- he figured that much out by their reactions.

Even Alfred had a history of PTSD from his time in the army. There was an article about a scandal when Bruce had actually been a child- apparently, someone had thought to release firecrackers under the servant's table, and Alfred had panicked. People had mocked him about it for months.

Everyone had a reason to be a villain, yet they all had opened their home to him and been nothing but kind. They were good, and they treated him like family.

Danny felt sick with himself, for being so self-centered he never bothered to really get to know them. And now he never could.

A few tears rolled down his face as his vision started to blur out more and more.

No use crying over it now, Fenton. Though the haze of exhaustion doesn't let him get up from the floor, he thinks bitterly.

He'll rest for a little bit, then get back to work. Only for a few minutes/

Danny doesn't notice his body has shifted in his Ghist side, slowly redirecting his energy to his core, so that his healing could help overcome the unknown days.

He is not aware his heartbeat stops at the same time.

_____________________________________________________________

"I can't hear him anymore!" A young boy screams, pressing his ear against a stone. Horror clouds his voice as he turns to stare at another boy. "His heartbeat....it's not...."

"We must make haste! Breakthrough now!" The other boy snaps.

"But that might cause the cave to fall on top of him." The other rubs his hands together nervously. "I think we may be too late to save-"

"Every second we waste is a second that Brucie gets closer to death!" His company growls savagely, though the tears in his eyes make him less scary. "We have to at least bring his body home- we-I can't- he needs to be buried properly."

Not even a second passed before the other boy threw his shoulders back, yanking out his phone and pressing a speed dial two.

His father picks up two rings. "Jon?"

"Dad! We found Brucie! He was stuck in a cave underneath the tunnels leading to Gotham Cemetry. Can you come help me get him out?"

"I'll be right there."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #cave boy #Part 8 #Danny is starting to feel guilty #The bats found him #Damian and Jon friendship #It's not good to not take care of yourself

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munchmemes · 1 month

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taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part two

guilty as sin?

▸ my boredom's bone-deep. ▸ am i allowed to cry? ▸ i'm seeing visions, am i bad? or mad? or wise? ▸ one slip and i'm falling back into the hedge maze. ▸ oh, what a way to die. ▸ i keep recalling things we never did. ▸ how i long for our trysts. ▸ how can i be guilty as sin? ▸ i keep these longings locked inside a vault. ▸ someone told me there's no such things as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. ▸ they're gonna crucify me anway. ▸ what if they way you hold me is actually what's holy? ▸ i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

▸ the "who's who?`" of "who's that?" is poised for the attack. ▸ you don't get to tell me about 'sad'. ▸ if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive. ▸ who's afraid of little old me? you should be. ▸ the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. ▸ at all costs, keep your good name. ▸ you don't get to tell me you feel bad. ▸ is it a wonder i broke? ▸ let's hear one more joke. then we could all just laugh until i cry. ▸ i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean. ▸ they say they didn't do it to hurt me but what if they did? ▸ i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. ▸ you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. ▸ isn't that what they all said? that i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong. ▸ you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. ▸ you caged me and then you called me crazy. ▸ i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

▸ the jokes that [you/they] told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. ▸ they shake their heads, saying "god help [them]" when i tell 'em you're the one. ▸ i can fix him, no really i can. and only i can. ▸ i could see it from a mile away. ▸ you had a halo of the highest grade, you just hadn't met met yet. ▸ come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night. ▸ trust me, i can handle me a dangerous [man/woman].

loml

▸ we were just kids, babe. ▸ i don't mind, it takes time. ▸ i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed. ▸ i felt aglow like this. never before and never since. ▸ you and i went from one kiss to getting married. ▸ you said i'm the love of your life about a million times. ▸ a conman sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme. ▸ i felt a hole like this never before and ever since. ▸ what we thought was for all time was momentary. ▸ i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all. ▸ the coward claimed he was a lion. ▸ i'll still see it until i die. you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart

▸ i can show you lies. ▸ i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit. ▸ they said 'you gotta fake it 'til you make it' and i did. ▸ you said you'd love me all your life but that life was too short. ▸ i can do it with a broken heart. ▸ i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day. ▸ i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art. ▸ you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart. ▸ i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since [you/they] left. ▸ i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

the smallest man who ever lived

▸ was any of it true? ▸ now you know what it feels like. ▸ i don't miss what we had. ▸ in public, you showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion. ▸ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man. ▸ were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? ▸ good riddance 'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. ▸ i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside. ▸ in plain sight you hid but you are what you did. ▸ i'll forget you but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy

▸ this happens once every few lifetimes. ▸ these chemicals hit me like white wine. ▸ what if i told you i'm back? ▸ the hospital was a drag. worst sleep i ever had. ▸ ditch the clowns, get the crown. ▸ what if i told you we're cool? ▸ honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy? ▸ where's the trophy?

clara bow

▸ all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose? ▸ i'm not trying to exaggerate but i think i might die. ▸ this town is fake but you're the real thing. ▸ take the glory, give everything. ▸ promise to be dazzling. ▸ you're the new god we're worshipping. ▸ beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours, demanding more. ▸ it's hell on earth to be heavenly. ▸ them's the breaks, they don't come gently.

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence starters #lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #roleplay meme #lyrics rp meme #lyrics meme #taylor swift lyrics rp meme

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detectivestucks · 5 months

Text

A Jealous Hokage IV

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Kakashi x F!Reader x Obito

Summary: Obito regrets his actions as you decide what to do moving forward. Kakashi invites you to an event and things get steamy as you decide what you’re going to wear.

Warnings: NSFW, Slight Degradation, Spanking, Fingering, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 3.4k

Part 3

New here? Check out Part 1

You sit there, staring at the gift. Your mind that had gone blank, paralyzed by indecision, was now swirling with inner dialogue. What is wrong with me? Kakashi is amazing. We’ve been dating for the better part of a year. Why would I throw that away? But Obito, how do I describe it? You always know where you stand with him. He doesn’t hide his affection. The way he looks at me. The way he made me feel under his genjutsu…but that’s exactly why I can’t trust him. The entire thing could’ve been lies just to get me in bed. This is all a game to him. It’s not a game to Kakashi. He loves me. He’s the healthy choice, even if it is in secret. I might have feelings for Obito but I love Kakashi and I'm not gonna give that up.

You make this decision with a firm nod of your head. Now that you are certain of what you’re going to do, you reach out and finally unwrap the small box that had been sitting patiently on your table for the past two hours.

It is a beautiful necklace and earring set. A long strand of glittery stones with a bright pendant, it was exceedingly fancy and you wonder when you would ever wear such jewelry. Sure you love dressing up for work but within reason. This looked like something you’d wear to dinner with the Feudal Lord. It must’ve been very expensive. Why would Kakashi spend this kind of money on me?

The next morning you head into work trying your hardest to pretend last night never happened. It was genjutsu, it was genjutsu, it was genjutsu. None of it was real. It was genjutsu. No matter how many times you told yourself this, you were still saddled with guilt cause you know that in the heat of the moment you liked it. Curse Obito for doing this to you. You were happy and in love before he came along. Why did he have to come ruin everything?

You drop your stuff off in your office and head to the break room to grab hot water to make some tea. Upon entering the room you see Obito. Your face instantly shades red from both shame and anger and you storm away avoiding him. Obito for once regrets his advances towards you. He knows he crossed a line last night. Desperation got the best of him. He shouldn’t have used his abilities like that.

Mortified, you decide to hide out in your office. You hear a soft knock on the door. It was Obito holding a cup of tea. “Go away Obito”

Completely disregarding your wishes he enters anyway and puts the tea down on your desk. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I was out of line last night.” You sheepishly take the tea off the desk. “I think that might be the first time you’ve ever called me by my name.” you give a small smile. “Thank you Obito. For the tea and for the apology.” You blow on the tea before taking a sip.

“I’ve let my feelings for you consume my actions. I've been focusing on what I want and I took it too far.” He steps forward and grabs your hand, kissing the back of it. “Forgive me Princess.”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“Never” he says with a smile as he walks out of your office.

You would be lying if you said that the small gesture didn’t make you feel warm. You liked how special he made you feel but last night is as far as things will ever go. You stand firm on that decision.

Not even ten minutes go by before Kakashi enters your office without knocking and leans against your desk. You beam up at him. “Good Morning Kashi!”

“Good Morning Angel” He leans down to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Did you like your gift?”

Recalling the jewelry he had delivered to your home, you exclaim, “It was beautiful! However I couldn’t help but wonder, what was the occasion?”

“I’m so glad you phrased it like that.” He smiled, “The Feudal Lord came to my office yesterday afternoon. He wants us to host a Gala to fundraise for the Academy. Since these times of peace have brought in fewer paid missions, we need more money to keep the program going. He also wants to invite representatives from the other great nations to continue to build international relationships. I thought you could wear it when you go.”

“I’m invited?”

“All members of the shinobi forces are invited, including the personnel at headquarters.”

“Wow, sounds fancy. I feel so important.”

“You are important.” He says with a brush of your cheek.

At that moment you hear your office mate shuffling in through the door. Kakashi immediately stands up.

“I’ll have the latest update on that translation on your desk by lunch.”

Kakashi nods while playing along. “I appreciate it. I can always count on you.” He begins to leave your office.

“Good Morning Lord Sixth.”

“Good Morning Shiho. Just a heads up, you should be expecting an invitation from my office later today.”

“Oh, okay, thank you!” she called to him as he disappeared out your office door.

“What is the invite about?”

“It’s some fundraiser Gala. We’re all invited.”

“Oh that sounds fun! You gonna bring a date?”

“Psh, yeah right.”

“What about the mystery man?”

“He is a mystery for a reason and he is going to stay a mystery.” You say with a pointed look.

Shiho rolls her eyes and drops it, deciding to get started on the day’s work.

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

You come home from work thinking about the Gala. What on earth am I going to wear? I don’t have anything that fancy! You begin to rifle through your closet looking for a dress that matches Kakashi’s earrings. There is a knock on the door. You turn around, leaving your closet and walk towards the kitchen. You open up your door to find Kakashi standing there with flowers for you. Beaming at him, you hurry him inside before anyone could see.

“That was a big risk you took coming here with flowers like this. Someone could've seen you.”

“Don’t worry Angel, I was careful.”

He gives you the bouquet and you smell them. “They’re lovely, thank you.”

“Not as lovely as you.” he says, eyes sparkling as he looks at you with complete adoration. You feel butterflies rise in your stomach yet again. He always has that effect on you. You turn to put them in water and make two cups of tea.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“That’s okay, Kash. I have plenty of work to occupy my time.”

“And I’m sorry that you can’t be my official date to the Gala.” The way he says this tells you that he is genuinely bothered by it.

“I don’t need all of that. I’m just happy being with you, even if it’s private.” you say, placing a hand on his forearm.

Kakashi pulls down his mask while he leans in for a kiss. You wrap both of your arms around him pressing your lips into his. When your mouths disconnect, he asks softly, “Have you thought about what you’re going to wear?”

“Actually I was just trying to figure that out. I think I may need to go shopping.”

“Well I’ve been thinking about what you should wear, a lot.” He whispers in your ear. You feel the familiar tingle of excitement trickle along your spine.

“Do tell” you whisper back

“Well I was thinking something red and revealing. Maybe something low cut showing off your lovely tits, teasing the entire room” he says gripping your waist tightly. “The fabric sheer so I can see your thong through it from across the dining hall.” He kisses your cheek. “Perhaps a slit up to your hip so that I have easy access when I corner you in the closet.” He kisses your neck. “Every man in the room will want you but only I will get to fuck you.” he whispers into your neck.

You hum in amusement. “Well if you want me to wear something low cut, you’ll need to stop giving me so many hickies.”

You hear the hesitation as he debates whether or not to resist the urge to bite down on you. He settled for kissing along the entire curve of your neck and shoulder, willing to allow your pre-existing marks heal before the Gala. He kisses all around your collarbone before licking his tongue up your neck.

You close your eyes and exhale feeling the arousal begin to pool in your underwear. He presses his lips into yours before nibbling on your lower lip, pulling till it slips out from between his teeth. You sharply inhale feeling lust wash over you. Your fingers dig into his back as you pull him towards you.

He pushes you onto the table pulling off your tank top to kiss all over your chest. Your head drops back as he kisses you, careful not to leave a single mark. It isn’t as fun as his love bites but it still makes you soak the lace between your legs. While he kisses you he undoes the snap of your bra, causing it to fall in your lap. You push his face into your chest letting him lick your cleavage before suckling on your tits, taking care of each one. Since he couldn’t mark up your skin he decided to be extra cruel to your nipples biting down on them with ferocity. “AH!!” you call out. Chills roll over your body covering your skin as his nibbling makes your empty pussy crave something to clamp down around.

He lets go of your tit with a satisfied smile, devilishly staring up at you. You pull off his shirt and undo his pants, kissing his entire front. Every muscle, every scar, every facet that you could get your greedy mouth on, you wanted to taste it all. He stroked himself as he watched you. Once again thinking about how he could fuck you for the rest of his life. You nibbled on his collarbone before he raised your face up to his.

“Open”

You open your mouth. He spits into it.

“Swallow”

You swallow his spit. A wicked smile curls his lips. He loves how you play along with anything he throws at you. “That’s a good Angel”

He spins you around so you’re bent over the table and yanks your pants down past your hips. He spanks you a few times just to watch you squirm before sliding his fingers into your slit. You moan as he works your gummy walls. His other hand reaches to cover your mouth and arch your back up towards him. With his hand jutting in and out of your tightening pussy, he leans down and whispers in your ear, “Do you like that my little slut? You like when I finger your hole?”

“Mhm” you say, muffled by his hand. He adjusts his hand and slips two fingers into your mouth fish hooking you while he quickens the pace in your cunt adding a third finger inside.

“Aa-aaa-aaa-hhh!” you moan, unable to truly speak with your stretched out lips. You began to kick your legs trapped together by your pants pulled halfway down. He pulls his fingers out of your heat and replaces them with his dick already dipping with precum. You let out a satisfied groan as he stretches you, filling you up completely, pushing inside you all the way to the hilt.

He shoves his slick covered fingers in your mouth, feeding you your own cum before hooking them in your mouth like his other hand, using your lips to grip you while slamming rhythmically into your plush behind. Your fingers clutch the edge of the table trying to steady yourself as you curse and scream in pleasure.

Wanting to pick up speed, Kakashi grabs you by the elbows pulling your arms behind your back as he unleashes the pent up sexual desire that had been building in him from imagining you in your sexy red dress.

“Oo-ohh, ye-esss, babb-byyy” you say broken up by each stroke that slams into your cervix.

Wanting more, he switches his grip to your throat, pushing deeper with each thrust. Your eyes are rolling backwards with pleasure. You start to gasp for air as you feel yourself toppling over the edge leaving cream all over Kakashi’s cock.

He adjusts his grip again, putting one hand on your neck and a pinky in your rear. Normally he’d save this for a punishment but he couldn’t resist. You were squirming so much already and he wanted to see your squirm more. A guttural groan fell out of your mouth as he slid in, making his stomach coil.

You start to go limp after your orgasm so Kakashi flips you on your back, lifting your restrained legs over one shoulder, pulling you to the edge of your kitchen table. Your fingers once more curling around the edge for support. You gaze up at him with a look of satisfied exhaustion, smiling as he plows into you. He hugs your knees as he slows down. Stroking slow and even. You whine and wiggle around wanting him to go fast again. He centers your legs, knees stuck together, on his chest, letting your ankles fall open on either side of his head.

He leans down, pressing your legs into your chest going in deep. He keeps a medium pace as he sticks a finger back in your mouth. You obediently suck on it hoping you’ll be rewarded with more speed. He sticks a second finger in. You accept it gladly. He starts to smile and adds a third finger. You willingly take it into your mouth sucking as drool starts to dribble out the corner of your lips. He adds a fourth finger stroking them in and out of your mouth.

“You’re a greedy little slut tonight, aren’t you?”

“Mhm” you say with doe eyes. He smiles ready to give you your reward. He takes his hand out of your mouth and grabs your tit as he picks up the pace slamming into you over and over again. Your back arched off the table in ecstasy. His balls tightened as he watched your eyes roll back before squeezing shut. “That’s it Angel, let it out.”

You scream as your legs shake. Your back begins to convulse as he continues to split you in two during your orgasm.

Kakashi’s toes curl as he’s close to cumming. At the last minute he pulls out and sprays his sticky ropes all over your chest. Still panting and catching your breath, you take a finger and wipe up some of his cum and bring it to your mouth. “Mmmm” you hum. Smiling at him as you lick.

He pulls you up by the back of your head to kiss you, even though he was still catching his own breath, he can’t help himself. He loves you and can’t think of a better way to show you. You know exactly what to do to drive him wild. He can’t get enough of your swollen lips. He inhales deep before releasing your mouth with several small kisses. Smiling at you, heart full. He goes to grab you a damp cloth to clean up your chest when he musters up the courage to ask:

“Would it be all that bad if I were your date to the Gala, officially speaking?”

“Huh?”

“If people were to know about us. Would it be so bad?”

“Kashi, we’ve been over this. I don’t want people to think I’m sleeping my way to the top, especially now that you’re Hokage.”

“Everyone knows how bright you are. No one would assume any merits you earn are because of me.”

“That’s all everyone will think. I wouldn’t be able to stand the scrutiny.”

“If anyone causes you trouble then they will have me to deal with.”

“And have you make it worse? I don’t think so.”

At that moment Obito came to your house. He was hoping to steal another moment with you but he heard Kakashi’s voice so he stayed outside, listening in on your conversation.

“So am I just going to be your secret forever?”

“No, just till you step down as Hokage.”

“Till I step down? That will be years. I don’t think I can hide you for that long.”

You cast your eyes down realizing how big a commitment that was to ask of him.

“Are you going to ask me to marry you in secret too? Be your secret husband? Cause I’m not waiting till I’m out of office to ask for your hand.”

Your eyes shot up wide. “You, you’ve thought about marrying me?”

Still outside eavesdropping, Obito felt he had been punched in the gut.

“Is that surprising to you?”

“I guess I hadn’t stopped to think about it.” Your stomach was doing flips realizing how serious Kakashi was about you.

“You see my face every day. The last person to see my face was my father. What does that tell you?” he says playing with your hair.

“Kakashi…”

“You have my trust completely. I am yours forever.” He says, closing his hands around yours.

“I…I want all that with you. I do, but I’m not ready. I don’t know if I can handle what people will think and say. I’m sorry Kashi.”

Kakashi is having a hard time hearing your words. He starts to wonder if it has to do with Obito. He pulls up his mask and gets dressed.

“Please don’t leave Kashi, please” you say, feeling panicked. Getting up off the table, tugging at his arm. You pull him into you, forcing him to hug you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Kash. I wish I could change the way I feel, I do, but I’m not ready.” tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry too. I need some time to think.” He pushes you away heading towards the door.

“Kashi, Please!” Desperation thick in your voice.

He turns around, pain painted all over his features. “Do you know what it’s like for me to watch men look at you thinking you’re single? What it’s like to hear how they talk about you knowing they believe you’re available for the taking? What it’s like to be in the same room as you but pretend you are nothing more than a colleague? It was fun in the beginning but I can’t do this forever.”

“You don’t think I go through the same thing? Every girl wants you. But you have nothing to lose, where I will lose the respect of all my peers. No one will take me seriously. Everything that I’ve worked for will be lost.”

“I will take you seriously. Me, the Hokage. Can’t that be enough?”

You swallow hard as you look down in thought. Kakashi kisses your forehead and whispers, “Come to me when you figure it out.” and with that he left.

You stood there crying in your living room, staring at the door through which he left. You felt like he was asking you to choose between him and your career. It's not as simple as he makes it seem.

After a few moments you find it in yourself to move from where your feet were planted and begin putting your clothes back on, tears still streaming down your face.

Obito finally decided to make his presence known. He walked through your front door without knocking, “Now’s not the time, Obito.” you sniffle

He comes in and immediately hugs you, holding you in his warm embrace. “It’ll be okay Princess”

“You’re just saying that cause you hope it’s over between us.” you mutter into his chest beginning to cry even harder.

“No, Princess, I wouldn’t hope for anything that hurts you.” he whispers, moving you over to the couch to sit together. You look up at his face and believe him. That look in his eyes where the universe has shifted to revolve around you is front and center. He stays with you, holding you as you lay on his chest. “What can I do to help, Princess?”

“Be the Hokage” you say sarcastically with a hint of seriousness

He lets out a small chuckle, “That used to be my dream, you know.”

“What changed?” you say with a sniffle

“I did some things that I can’t take back.”

Unsure of what to say, you choose to nestle into Obito in response. He had never been so vulnerable with you before.

Tightening his embrace he says to you,“You wouldn’t have to go through any of this if you were with me. It would be easy, the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Give it a rest Obito.”

He kisses your temple and continues to hold you, deciding to drop the topic. He stays with you till you cry yourself to sleep. He carries you to your bed and kisses your salty tear-stained cheek before leaving. His heart ached from how much he was beginning to love you. He was all but certain you would never leave Kakashi. It pained him to know you wouldn’t have to endure any of your fears if you would just choose him. Why wouldn’t you just choose him? He looked back at you longingly, over his shoulder, before shutting the door behind him.

Part 5 Masterlist

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c-e-d-dreamer · 10 months

Text

But I'm Only Looking At You: Part Three

A/N: And we're back for part three of Regency Cassian! And this time, we're switching up POVs because nothing says the theme of Illyrian for @cassianappreciationweek quite like... gestures vaguely... ya know? Also, we're getting angsty, but I hope everyone still enjoys :)

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta hates Cassian MacLeod.

She hates him with every fiber of her being. Hates him until her blood boils and blazes, and she can grasp onto that feeling and hold tight to it.

She hates his idiocy and the entire mess that he’s caused over the last week. She hates the looks that were on her sisters’ faces when they finally got home after Cassian had burst in, the way that Elain had cried. She hates the damning, shunning words her mother had berated her with before the wedding, and that those words are his fault.

She hates the forlorn and pleading expression he’s been wearing for days now, staring at her from across the carriage. She hates the way his hand keeps reaching out between them, fingers curling in the skirts of her dress like he’s worried she’ll disappear on him if he doesn’t hold tight enough. She hates the relief that flooded through her when he came striding through those church doors.

She hates that she doesn’t think she could ever hate Cassian a day in her life.

After their argument at the first coaching inn, the rest of the journey to Glasgow is tense and awkward. Each day they ride in the carriage, barely speaking to one another, and each evening they stop at a coaching inn, Cassian opting to sleep on the floor and allowing her the bed.

Nesta never thought there would be a day where she missed his teasing. Missed his Scottish drawl calling her sweetheart. Missed the warm, deep rumble of his laughter. But each night she lies in the bed staring at the wall through the dark, her arms curled tightly around herself to fight off the chill. His name stays lodged firmly in the back of her throat, desperate to escape, but then she’ll think of her sisters back in London, think of how they must be struggling with the consequences of the Archeron name being thoroughly ruined, and she grasps back onto that anger all over again.

When they finally reach Glasgow, Nesta feels particularly exhausted, but as the carriage pulls around a bend, she finds herself perking up. She had known that Cassian had money, that despite what her mother and the other mothers of London whispered and gossiped, the MacLeods had made a name for themselves with their factories in the north. It was why Cassian had attended the boarding school with the other boys in the first place, but actually seeing the manor that he calls home almost has Nesta gaping.

The beige stonework of the exterior is gorgeous, lines of windows spaced amongst the patterned stone and bay windows protruding from both wings of the manor. Five wide steps lead up to a large, white front door, a crest seemingly carved into the stone just above it. With the line of trees and what promises to be a sprawling garden just behind, it paints a picture perfect backdrop.

The carriage pulls to a stop, and one of the footmen pulls open the door, Cassian climbing out first before he turns back and offers Nesta a hand. She’s still staring up at the manor as she settles her hand in his and steps down from the carriage.

“Do you like it?” Cassian asks, his eyes pinned on Nesta and her reaction, his tone almost nervous.

“I’m beginning to think you undersold your manor in your letters,” Nesta comments, her eyes still flitting around. “You always described it as being so miserable here.”

“It was.”

Something in Cassian’s tone, in the unspoken words hanging in the breeze between them, has Nesta turning her head. There’s a longing swimming amongst the golds and greens of his hazel eyes, enough that Nesta’s breath hitches in her lungs and she has to look away again. She swallows hard and continues forward toward the front steps of the manor, desperate for a distraction from everything left unsaid between them, from the electricity that sparks in that space, from the way her traitorous heart skipped over itself.

The front door is pulled open as soon as Nesta gets close to it, so she steps inside, taking a moment to admire the high ceilings of the hall. A large, central staircase takes up the majority of the space, but Nesta notes the fresh flowers that have been arranged on the tables lining the walls.

“Mrs Reynolds,” Cassian greets the woman standing just inside the hall, stepping inside behind Nesta and settling a gentle hand on the small of her back. “I trust all has been well while I was away.”

“Of course, sir,” Mrs Reynolds responds, dipping into a polite curtsy before her eyes glance toward Nesta quickly. “The staff has ensured that everything is prepared to welcome the new mistress of the house.”

“Perfect. Please inform Michael to begin preparing dinner while I give Nesta the tour.”

With another curtsy to them both, Mrs Reynolds vanishes deeper into the manor. Cassian clears his throat and steps away from Nesta, drifting over toward the left side of the hall. He pushes a hand up and through his hair, the gesture almost nervous.

“You can change anything you’d like,” Cassian explains. “I’ll admit I’ve just sort of left things how my father had them, but if anything isn’t to your taste or…” He clears his throat again, and swings open the doors in front of him. “But this is the drawing room, and through that door there is my study. And just through there leads to the conservatory that overlooks the gardens.”

Nesta nods in understanding and steps closer, her gaze sweeping over the different furnishings, the piano tucked in the corner by the windows, the sofas arranged around the large fireplace. She sidesteps around Cassian to peer into his study next, taking in the desk and books stacked neatly into the shelves just behind it. When she turns back toward Cassian, looking at him expectantly, he crosses to the other side of the hall, opening the other set of doors.

“And this is the dining room, which connects back to the breakfast room, and the conservatory too actually. Since the hall just wraps around.” When Nesta doesn’t say anything and merely nods her head again, Cassian makes his way up the stairs, pausing at the top and gesturing to his left. “The west wing has three bedrooms, mostly used for guests, but this way…”

A few steps down the hallway leading to the east wing and Cassian pauses, pushing open a set of double doors. There’s no stopping the gasp that tears free from Nesta’s chest, her feet moving of their own accord as she steps inside. A sofa and two comfortable looking armchairs are arranged around a tea table near the fireplace, and she realizes that one of the bay windows she had seen from outside is in fact a window seat. But every other spare inch of space along the walls is lined with dark colored oak shelves, climbing all the way up to the ceiling, and each one of them is filled with books.

“I had a feeling this would be your favorite room,” Cassian chuckles quietly behind her.

Nesta walks over to the closest shelf, running her fingers along the different spines. She can already hear the whispers of the stories and characters waiting just beneath, and she takes a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, the scent of parchment and dried ink filling her senses in the most comforting way. When she opens her eyes again, she examines Cassian’s collection, tiling her head so she can read the different titles displayed.

“You have quite the Sellyn Drake collection.”

“You told me he was your favorite writer, so I made sure I had every book of his that’s been published.”

Nesta nearly jumps out of her skin at how close his voice is. She hadn’t heard him walk closer to her. She chances a glance to where he’s now leaning against the shelves beside her, where he’s watching her intently. Of course, her heart once again decides to betray her, thundering between her ribs at his closeness, at that damned look in his eyes, at his explanation. Her bottom lip finds home between her teeth, and she looks away again, focusing instead on tracing the letters of a title with her index finger.

“I don’t recall telling you that,” Nesta says, pulling one of the books out and flipping through the pages just to give her hands something to do.

“You were in the market square, and I followed you into the bookshop.”

“I suppose that does sound right. You always like to bother me.”

“I asked you who your favorite writer was, so I might purchase a book for you, and you told me that you didn’t need a gentleman to buy you your books.”

“Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“And when I insisted, you finally informed me that Sellyn Drake was your favorite.”

“How do you know I didn’t just say that to see the shop owner’s face when you purchased a Sellyn Drake novel? It was quite priceless as I recall.”

“Then who is your favorite writer? Tell me, and I’ll have the books in this library remedied immediately.”

He says the words with such ease, such conviction, that Nesta finds herself frowning in confusion. “Why?”

That look takes over his face again, that soft pleading look. “You already know the answer to that question, Nes.”

“Because I’m the lady of the house now?”

“If that’s the lie you want us to tell ourselves…”

Nesta closes the book in her hands with a clap that echoes in the otherwise quiet library, hugging the book tight to her chest. “Do you intend to finish your tour?”

Cassian sighs softly but he nods, leading Nesta out of the library and continuing down the hall of the east wing. He stops in front of another set of doors, pulling them open and gesturing for Nesta to step inside. The room is spacious, a large, canopy bed taking up the majority of the space and windows that overlook the gardens lining the far wall.

“The dressing room is through the door on the left, the bathing chamber the one on the right,” Cassian explains, still hovering by the door. “You’ll have this room, and I’ll have one of the guest rooms made up for me.”

Nesta whips around at that. “We won’t be sharing?”

“Have you forgiven me yet?”

“No,” Nesta snaps automatically, earning a look from Cassian that clearly says she answered her own question. “And what happens when word reaches London that we are already sleeping separately? Barely a week into the honeymoon?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. My staff are good people. They won’t talk or spread gossip.”

“All servants talk.”

That infuriating, teasing smirk of his tugs across his lips, the first time Nesta’s seen that look in days. “If you want me in your bed, sweetheart, all you have to do is ask.”

“I want nothing from you,” Nesta corrects, tossing her book onto the bed and crossing her arms across her chest, matching his stance. “But you have already ruined me and the Archeron name enough. I will not allow you to drive it further into the mud.”

Cassian’s smile drops away, a flicker of regret crossing his expression as he turns his face away from her. “You know that wasn’t my intention.”

“Yes,” Nesta drawls dryly, rolling her eyes. “We all know your intentions with your stupid, selfish act.”

“Selfish…” Cassian scoffs, shaking his head. “Because what more could I possibly want than you hating me.”

The conversation is teetering dangerously toward things they’ve yet to discuss, and though Nesta already knows, has already seen the truth that Cassian has worn so plainly on his sleeve since the House Party, since the wedding, it’s waters Nesta is not quite ready to dip her toe into. It’s secrets she’s not quite ready to share. So she drops her gaze away from Cassian, fiddling with the sleeve of her dress and a loose thread there instead.

“I’m tired. We’ve been traveling for days. Can you send some lady’s maids to tend to me?”

Cassian sighs, but he thankfully doesn’t comment on the change in subject. “You haven’t had any dinner yet.”

“I’m fine,” Nesta dismisses easily with a shrug.

“You’ve barely eaten the past few days.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“We’re married now, remember? Is that not what husbands do? Is that not my right now?”

Nesta storms across the room to him, her rage practically palpable the way it thrums through her veins, the way it thunders in her ears. She doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him, scowling up at him with narrowed eyes as she seethes, “do it, then. I dare you.”

She expects Cassian to step away from her, perhaps even to match her anger, but she doesn’t expect him to smile down at her. “There she is. You want to play, Nes?”

“Gods, you are insufferable!”

“Better to have you yelling at me than the gods-damned silence you’ve been putting me through! Fight with me. Throw something at me. I don’t care. I can take it.”

They both stand there, toe to toe, their chests heaving and twin flames blazing in their gazes. Nesta swears she can hear both their hearts thundering to the same beat. Swears some thread goes taut between them as the air crackles and sparks. It squeezes and tightens around her heart, threatening to burst it, threatening to tug it clean out of her chest.

She tries to grapple for her anger again, for her hatred, before it slips through her fingers like wisps of smoke. Damn this man and the way he’s never backed down from her. The way he’s always relished in her fire rather than trying to douse it. The way he’s torn down her every wall, her every defense, from the moment she met him.

It has Nesta breaking first, turning away from him and hugging her arms around herself like that will hold in the ache that’s started to throb between her ribs. “Are you calling some lady’s maids or not?”

“Fine,” Cassian mutters, his voice almost defeated.

Nesta waits until his retreating footsteps finally fade before letting out a soft sigh. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before two lady’s maids step inside the room. They help her to bathe, to wash away all of the grime that comes from days of traveling before helping her prepare for bed. When they leave again with a polite curtsy, the bedroom doors closing behind them with a soft snick, Nesta slips beneath the cool, silk sheets and the soft blankets of the bed.

She lays there against the pillows, eyes glued on the windows and the gardens beyond. She watches the sky as it shifts from golden hues to deep purples, watches until the inky darkness of night swallows everything whole and plunges the bedroom around her into shadows too. Despite the exhaustion still weighing heavy in her limbs, sleep stays firmly out of Nesta’s reach. It doesn’t help that her mind can’t seem to stop racing, churning like the sea waves during a storm.

All she can think about is Cassian, practically seeing his face every time she tries to close her eyes. She can’t help but think back to her eighteenth birthday, one of the last times she saw him before he finished school and returned to Glasgow. Her mother had thrown her an extravagant party in the ballroom of their home to celebrate. Mama had claimed it was strictly to honor her, but Nesta had known better. It was a way to show off to the other society ladies. It was a way for Mama to begin her grand plan of securing Nesta a suitable match.

It had all been so much, the music, the people, all the conversations Mama had roped her into. And yet somehow Cassian had seen right through her plastered smiles, had known exactly what she needed. He’d grabbed her hand and whisked her away before anyone could see. Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever forget those few blissful moments of peace they’d stolen away, hidden out of sight in the pantry, Nesta sitting on an overturned crate so as to not get dirt on her dress.

He had given her her birthday gift then, a first edition book she loved, the writer’s script penned on the first page. It was so thoughtful. The whole night had been so thoughtful that Nesta had realized it then. In that small space with Cassian smiling softly at her, with his hazel eyes still glinting even in the low light, Nesta had realized that she had feelings for him.

That she loved him.

Nesta can feel the hot sting of tears beginning to prickle the back of her eyes, so she turns and presses her face into her pillow, trying to stifle them. Her whole chest feels raw and exposed, as though dark claws have carved into the space until it’s hollow, until nothing remains but bloodied ribbons and her bruised heart. She presses a trembling hand to her mouth, the cool metal of her wedding band catching on her lips. It just makes the emotions raging through her worse, and Nesta pulls the blankets up higher over her shoulders, curls in tighter to herself.

She’s not sure how much time passes, how long she lays there, before she hears the soft sound of the door opening, the shuffle of feet around the room. She doesn’t move from her spot, stays perfectly still as she listens to Cassian unwind and prepare to sleep. She can feel the blankets shift as he tugs them down on the other end of the bed, but then he pauses. He hesitates. And Nesta has to squeeze her eyes shut, that ache in her chest giving a stuttering throb.

Finally, the mattress dips behind her, Cassian slipping into the bed and shifting until he’s comfortable. It takes everything within Nesta to keep breathing steady, not to release the sigh of relief clogging her throat.

“Nes,” Cassian whispers, his fingertips feather light as they skate along her spine. “Are you awake?”

The seconds of silence tick by, Nesta keeping her lips firmly pressed together. She expects Cassian to pull his hand back, but instead, his fingers curl into the fabric of her shift, the same way they’d curled into her skirts in the carriage. She wants to hate how much she finds the gesture grounding, comforting.

“I just wish you’d understand that I did it for you.”

~ * * * ~

Nesta wakes to an empty bed.

Gray, muddled light pours into the room through the windows, the heavy overcast clouds clinging to the sky outside promising a whole day of rain. Nesta takes a moment to just lay there, to watch the droplets of water that splatter onto the window pane before sliding against the glass in racing streaks.

When her stomach starts to twinge and groan, she finally heaves herself up and out of bed. She takes the time to braid and pin her hair back, opting for one of her more simple dresses. She heads down the stairs and to the breakfast room, Cassian already dressed and sitting inside at the table. He has a stack of papers he seems to be reviewing in his hands, but he looks up at the sound of Nesta’s footsteps, his gaze following her the whole way as she takes the seat at the opposite end of the table.

“Good morning,” Cassian offers quietly, setting down his papers. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yes, fine,” Nesta assures him, accepting the tea that’s placed in front of her with a quiet thanks.

Silence settles in the room and between them, so Nesta focuses on buttering a piece of toast. She can feel Cassian’s gaze on her, watching her, analyzing her in that way he always does, but she keeps her own eyes down, intent on tearing her toast into small pieces aimlessly. With each passing second, Nesta can feel her frustration beginning to grow, small fires beginning to spark and simmer. She can feel the cool, snapped words poised and ready on the tip of her tongue, but before she can release them, Cassian clears his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

“I have to go check on the factories today,” Cassian begins, pushing a hand up and through his hair almost nervously. “Would you like to join me?”

“Hardly the place for a lady, don’t you think?” Nesta comments, picking up her tea and taking a sip.

“Maybe so, but they’re just as much yours as they are mine now.”

“It’s not proper.”

Cassian sighs, but thankfully he doesn’t push her. “Will you be alright then? On your own for the day?”

“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“I’ll always worry about you.”

He says the words so seriously, not a hint of that teasing tone of his. Says them so matter-of-factly. Says them with that soft pleading look burning amongst the greens and golds of his eyes. It has the vines twisting tighter around Nesta’s heart, has her swallowing hard around the lump threatening to press into her throat.

Nesta straightens her spine and raises her chin, meeting Cassian’s gaze head on. “I want to write to my sisters.”

The smallest hint of a frown starts to tug down the corner of his lips, but Cassian nods. “You’ll find everything you should need in my study. Just give the letter to Mrs Reynolds. She’ll make sure it’s delivered.”

As though speaking her name has brought her into existence, Mrs Reynolds steps into the room, dipping into a polite curtsy. “The carriage is ready, sir.”

With another nod, Cassian stands up from his seat. He takes a step closer to Nesta, his lips parting as though he wants to say more, hand reaching out like he wants to do more, but once again, he hesitates, his hand outstretched awkwardly between them. He purses his lips, giving the smallest shake of his head and drops his hand back to his side, turning and heading for the door.

Nesta tries not to let it sting when he doesn’t offer any sort of goodbye, tries to remind herself that she’s just as much to blame for this tension roaring between them, but it leaves her feeling cold all the same. She turns back to her breakfast, but suddenly, she doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

With a sigh, she pushes up from her seat, striding out of the breakfast room. She crosses the front hall and opens the door to Cassian’s study, stepping inside. It’s surprisingly neat. A large, oak desk takes up most of the space, two chairs set before it and another chair and small bookcase set behind it. The leather bound books and ledgers on the shelves are all arranged in ordered rows, papers and more books organized in stacks on the desk.

She settles into the chair behind the desk, finding a pen already waiting for her. She turns her attention to the drawers next, in search of paper, leaning over and trying the largest bottom drawer first. She’s surprised to find the drawer stuffed full with paper, but they’re not blank. It’s letters.

It’s her letters.

Three years worth of letters, all folded and gathered together in this drawer. She can’t believe he kept all of them. She still remembers writing all those letters, telling him about her family, about her days, all her thoughts and opinions that she knew Cassian would never balk from. She still remembers lying in her bed, the candle light burning low, reading over the words he wrote back to her over and over again.

Nesta closes the drawer quickly, unable to look at those letters anymore. Blessedly, the next drawer she tries has the blank paper she’s looking for. She gets to work writing out a letter to Elain and Feyre, informing them that she’s settled in Glasgow, asking for updates from them. She keeps her requests simple and polite in case her mother decides to open and read the letter first, keeps everything optimistic so as to not worry Elain or Feyre. When she’s satisfied, she signs her name and reaches for the wax, pausing once she picks up the seal. Her fingers trace over the raised metal, the MacLeod crest.

She supposes it’s her crest now too.

Her gaze dances back down to the ink of her signature on the page. She’d simply signed Nesta and nothing more. She chews at her bottom lip for a moment before huffing in frustration at herself, at her swirling thoughts. With a shake of her head, she quickly folds her letter and pours the wax, pressing the seal down with a newfound determination.

—

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#nessian #CassianAppreciationWeek2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #regency au #my fic

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bigjuice34 · 5 months

Text

Private Affair (Year One)

Chapter Four

A/N: this part is so much longer than I originally thought it would be, but I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know your thoughts. 🥹

t/w: blood and violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Freya was extra cautious as she descended into the valley below the citadel. After her run-in with Nathan, she continuously checked her surroundings and remained hiding in the shadows, not risking being seen by anyone else.

Nathan could’ve gone and told the other wingleaders or those above them that he caught not only two first years but two marked ones out after curfew, he had every right to not cover for her. Nathan didn’t owe Freya anything, let alone did he need to be breaking the rules himself by not reporting such a thing. There was a good chance his letting Freya continue going where she was headed was a decoy and that she and Xaden could be ambushed by their superiors, but Freya didn’t think that’s what was bound to happen.

Why did Nathan help her the way he did? What did he mean when he said there was something about her? And why did she feel like she could trust him? Those were just some of the questions that plagued Freya’s mind as she started walking through the valley, not having any idea where Xaden might be. But still, she shook her head free of the thoughts and continued on her way.

There wasn’t much of a path that Freya could make out in the dim moonlight, but she could see where some of the tall grass had been parted, as though someone or something walked through it recently. Apart from that small separation in the grass, there was no indication that anyone else was nearby. For all Freya knew, she could be unknowingly following after a deadly creature, but she couldn’t turn back now.

The Iakobos River rushed nearby and Freya decided to walk closer to it as she continued navigating the grass, but not getting too close. The moon just wasn’t bright enough for her to safely be able to tell where the bank of the river started and Freya wasn’t going to take any chances in letting her official cause of death be drowning in a river while sneaking out after curfew.

She continued walking for a few more minutes, starting to wonder if she was even near wherever Xaden had gone off to, then she heard the same low whistle he used to get her attention in the barracks just barely over the sound of the rushing water and knew she was going the right way.

After rounding a slight bend, Freya saw a large boulder a few feet ahead amongst a row of ancient-looking oak trees and leaning against it was Xaden. All the tension and anxiety Freya was feeling leading up until then seemed to disappear as Xaden looked toward her and smiled once their gazes met. Freya returned the smile then picked up her pace and jogged over to him, trying to stay mindful of the branches and stones that littered the ground but were hidden by the grass.

“You made it,” Xaden greeted as he stood up straight and stepped toward her, still smiling as she approached. “I was starting to think something happened.”

“Sorry, I got sidetracked,” Freya explained, not sure if she should mention that she’d been caught by Nathan or not. “Um, you didn’t see anyone on your way out here, did you?”

“No, I didn’t. Did you?”

“No, I was just making sure.”

Freya fell silent, hating that she lied but figured there was no need to worry Xaden about something she already handled. However, instead of responding right away, Xaden studied her for a moment and then raised his eyebrow at her skeptically.

“You’re lying to me, Fern,” he stated without hesitation. “Who did you see?”

Freya internally cursed herself. Of course, Xaden could still read her like a book.

“Nathan, our wingleader,” she sighed in defeat. “He caught me while I was sneaking through the courtyard.”

“Our wingleader!? Are you serious?”

“Yes, Xaden. But he, he let me go. I don’t know why he did, but I don’t think he’s going to do anything.”

Xaden groaned in aggravation as he ran his hand over his face and then held his chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “For fuck’s sake, Freya. I knew you could be naive sometimes but I didn’t think you’d be this bad on the first night here with trusting a damn wingleader!”

Freya’s mouth fell open at his words. There was only one other time Xaden had ever spoken to her like that and Freya hated it. She was taken off guard and when that happened, she tended to act impulsively. Without saying another word, she turned her back to Xaden and started walking back the way she came from.

“Where are you going?” Xaden called after her and Freya could hear him following.

“Back to the dorms,” she replied simply. “This conversation is over if you’re going to speak to me the same way you did when our parents were captured once Aretia fell. I’m not the one to blame just because you feel inconvenienced by something, Xaden. I’m your friend, not your verbal punching bag.”

Freya didn’t look at Xaden as she spoke, but she only made it a few more steps before his hand gripped her arm and spun her back around to face him.

“Freya,” he started, then paused. There were a lot of emotions flashing through his eyes, but the most prominent one Freya saw was regret. “You’re right. I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Freya took a deep breath.

“I’d say so.”

“Please don’t go, Fern. Again, I’m sorry. It just feels like everyone here is against us and it doesn’t make sense for a wingleader to just let you off with no repercussions. Not when they’re all so apprehensive of us because of these relics on our arms.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Freya asked. “We’re the outsiders, I’m aware. But you didn’t have that conversation with Nathan, I did. You know better than anyone I’m not going to trust just anyone here, let alone a wingleader. But he let me go, Xaden. He knew you were out here too and still let me go and didn’t follow. If we were going to be ambushed do you not think he would’ve done it by now? Why would he let us get this far?”

Xaden stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. “I guess you’re right.”

“Why did you want me to come out here, anyway?”

“I wanted to talk. I, I missed you, Freya.”

At that, Freya visibly relaxed again once again. She always wondered if Xaden knew how strong his hold on her was.

“Then let's talk,” she responded softly, letting Xaden lead them back toward the boulder.

The two of them remained silent as they continued past the boulder toward the row of oak trees. Only the rushing water, the chirping of crickets and cicadas and their footsteps, as they walked through the grass, could be heard. They passed two of the trees but stopped at the third as Xaden leaned against a lower branch and turned to face Freya again.

“How are you, Fern?” Xaden asked.

Freya snorted.

“Between getting caught by our wingleader and how this conversation started, I was a lot better 20 minutes ago.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. I haven’t seen you in three years. How are you doing? I know being here isn’t easy for you and you don’t have to pretend like it is. Not around me.”

At that, Freya dropped her gaze. She could feel the tears welling in her eyes as the reality of the situation she was in began setting in again. The last thing she wanted to do was cry, but at least with Xaden, she knew she could without judgment.

“Not great,” Freya admitted, her voice cracking as she involuntarily let out a sob. “Today really fucking sucked, actually.”

“Freya,” Xaden started, then stopped as he stepped toward her and brought her into his embrace. Freya wasted no time wrapping her arms around his middle as she leaned against his chest, letting herself dwell on being back in the safety she always felt around her oldest friend.

After a few moments, the tears stopped, but neither of them let go.

“I hate crying,” Freya eventually said aloud.

“I know you do,” Xaden chuckled, then shifted his arms as Freya moved away so that she’d only be at arm's distance. “Gods forbid Freya Tarlor show emotion.”

“Only select people get to see me be vulnerable. You’re one of them, Riorson.”

“I’m honoured.”

“Whatever,” Freya rolled her eyes and let out a small laugh. “Don’t feel so special, the same can be said about Garrick. Speaking of which, why isn’t he here too?”

“I told him I needed to talk to you,” Xaden replied with a shrug. “Just us. It’s been too long.”

Freya nodded in understanding. Although she, Xaden and Garrick had always been a trio, Garrick acknowledged that she and Xaden were inseparable their entire lives, up until they were forced to be apart. No one knew Xaden or Freya like they knew each other.

“It feels surreal being here,” Freya stated. “Not considering that we have to be here or that I have you and Garrick, either. Just everything. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. Remembering everything Caden told me about this place, but being here under completely different circumstances than I ever thought I would, it’s a lot. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“I don’t think there’s a proper way to feel about all of this,” Xaden explained. “Whatever you’re feeling is valid. Yes, you may have ended up in the rider’s quadrant regardless if Caden was still here, but he’s not. He was taken from you. Hell, from me too. You know he was the older brother I never had. Everything changed the day Aretia fell and you don’t have to justify how you’re feeling because of it. None of us marked ones do. But I know being here is especially hard on you because of Caden and I want to help..”

“Having you here is more than I could ask for already,” she told him with a small smile. “I mean it.”

“I know, but I worry about you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m ok. Well, as ok as I can be.”

Xaden nodded, but Freya knew her words didn’t resonate anything in him. He’d always worry about her no matter what.

“The last three years of not knowing if you were ok have been hell, Freya,” he confessed. “It drove me nuts not being able to talk to you. To check in with you. I just had to keep myself convinced that I’d be seeing you again until it was finally time.”

“And now here we are,” Freya spoke softly. “You kept your promise to me after all. You knew we’d both make it through those years to be together again. You found me.”

“That I did,” Xaden said, then smiled. “I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I didn’t.”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that then. We’re going to get through these next three years here, Xaden. Together. Me, you and Garrick are going to make it to Threshing and hopefully each bond with a dragon. And when that happens, there’s nothing more anyone can do. It doesn’t matter if they all expect us to fail or be killed because of who our parents were. We don’t owe them anything. We just have to survive.”

“You’re right. And we will. The odds are going to be so stacked against us, but, there’s not a single part that thinks we can’t overcome any challenge we’re going to face. And speaking of a dragon, I could be very wrong but, I don’t think Caden’s dragon has a rider right now.”

“You don’t?” Freya asked.

Xaden shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I overheard someone say only four of the dragons we saw earlier were bonded, but not the green one. It makes sense too. Caden was a powerful mender. The bond he had with his dragon was incredibly strong, which is what made him so powerful. Your father's dragon died within a day of the executions because of how strong their bond was, your mother’s dragon was its mate and died too. The death of two dragons was already so significant, that everyone wondered what would happen with Caden’s dragon too. If I’m not mistaken, that dragon has hardly been seen over the last three years.”

Freya’s eyes widened in surprise as she processed everything she just heard.

“H-how do you know that?” She stuttered as her voice cracked. “I know my parents' dragons were mates, but no one ever told me what happened to them after they died. I asked and was never given a straight answer. How did you find that out?”

“I-,” Xaden started, then trailed off as he looked to the ground. “I know some people who told me.”

“Who?”

“Freya-.”

“Who, Xaden?” Freya asked firmly.

Xaden took a breath, then sighed.

“I can’t tell you, Fern,” he whispered.

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?” Freya questioned, raising her voice at him. “We’re talking about my parents. You can’t just keep things about them from me because you feel like that!”

“It’s not that simple! Freya, you know it’s not. I would never keep something like this from you if I didn’t think it was safer that you didn’t know. At least not yet.”

“That’s not fair for you to decide!”

“I know it’s not,” Xaden stressed. “But I just can’t tell you. I will eventually, I promise. Just not yet.”

“I don’t how you’re expecting me to trust you when I know you’re keeping something from me, Xaden,” Freya stated while trying to ignore the tears that began welling in her eyes. “If you’re not going to tell me who, then tell me this. Did the person who told you about my parents’ dragons know where I was for the past three years and tell you that too?”

Xaden sighed again but nodded.

“Yes, they did.”

“And you didn’t even try to get in contact with me. You know, for someone who claims to care about me you’ve got a pretty shit way of showing it. The Xaden I know would’ve never done that to me, he actually cared and would’ve wanted to make sure I was ok. He also wouldn’t have kept something about my parents from me. I’m starting to think he died Calldyr with them too.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” he stated. “I was blackmailed with your safety. I can’t go into more detail than that, but if I tried to contact you, I was told you could be targeted because of it. I wasn’t taking that chance. I knew you were safe with your foster family as was and that they were good to you. That’s all I needed to know. I found out about what happened to your parents and Caden’s dragons maybe a month ago as I was getting ready to come here. The person that told me knew I’d be seeing you and I guess they decided we should know that.”

Freya just shook her head. “This is so unbelievably cryptic.”

“I know it is, but please, Fern. You have every right to not believe or trust me with anything regarding this, but I need you to know that I’ve always had your best interest at heart and continue to do so. Please trust me.”

Once Xaden concluded his spiel, he and Freya just stared at each other not saying a word. It killed him not knowing what she was thinking, but after a few moments, Freya spoke up again.

“I trust you. Don’t get this wrong though, Xaden. I’m pissed. This isn’t fair of you, but my gut is telling me I can still trust you. You’ve never given me a reason not to.”

“And I won’t,” Xaden promised, visibly relaxing as he spoke. “You’re one of the most important people in my life, Freya. I never want to hurt you in any way.”

Instead of responding, Freya just nodded, making a few strands of her hair fall in front of her face as she did. She internally cursed herself for not braiding it again, already feeling annoyed with its full length that reached the middle of her back. However, before she could tuck the strands behind her ear again, Xaden was reaching up and delicately doing it for her.

“Your hair’s longer than it was before. I like it.”

Freya’s heart fluttered at his comment, but she tried to play it off.

“That’s what happens when you let it grow out,” she teased. “I was told I should cut it short before I came in here, but I couldn’t. I don’t like it short.”

“I like it long,” Xaden explained. “But you’ve always been beautiful regardless of your hair length.”

Instead of moving his hand away after tucking the strands of hair away, Xaden kept it at the side of Freya’s face, almost cupping her jaw, but was seemingly waiting for her to tell him that was ok. The gesture made Freya’s stomach do a flip and she was immediately taken back to the last night she and Xaden were together before being displaced.

“Don’t do this, Xaden,” she whispered and closed her eyes.

“Is it so bad that I want to?” He asked, making Freya flutter her eyes back open and be met by an intense gaze. “I missed you, Freya.”

“I missed you too, but-.” Freya started but cut herself off. “We can’t.”

Xaden leaned in toward her and Freya’s mind screamed at her to step away. But she couldn’t. She craved what was about to happen.

“If you tell me to stop, I will. Just say the word.”

Gone was Freya’s logic as she glanced at Xaden’s mouth, then back to his eyes. She felt so captivated that even if she wanted to say anything, there was no way she could. Instead, she leaned in closer as well and Xaden didn’t miss the window of opportunity he got.

His lips met Freya’s with force. It felt like he’d been craving the same thing and the way his arms wrapped around Freya to bring her closer made her believe that he did too. Feeling sparks was an understatement. What Freya felt was a tidal wave of pent-up emotion and sexual tension between her and Xaden finally washed away. Leading up to the peak of the rebellion, the two of them began messing around in secret. No one knew but them. It was an unhealthy outlet they both used to cope with everything that was happening. They’d slept together during their last night before being relocated but never put a label on anything because it didn’t matter if they were apart. Freya spent the last three years thinking about it. So did Xaden.

His hold on her tightened and Freya didn’t wait long to slide her hands over his chest and up to his shoulders before wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. Xaden moaned slightly when Freya’s right hand cupped the back of his head and tugged at his hair. The noise made her feel feral. She opened her mouth wider to allow Xaden more access and he wasted no time deepening the kiss.

However, that tiny voice in the back of Freya’s mind returned and it was mad. Dread washed over her as she remembered how bad of an idea making out with her best friend was and she took a step back in an attempt to move away. However, Xaden stepped toward her at the same time and their chests met.

“Xaden,” Freya said when she finally broke the kiss and stepped away again. But, with that step, the back of her foot got caught on one of the large exposed roots of the tree they were near, making her lose her balance and fall backwards. “Shit!”

The two of them were still tangled in each other’s embrace, there was no time for Xaden to prevent himself from going down with her. However, he quickly brought Freya close again then leaned to the side, angling his shoulder so that he would make contact with the ground first instead of her. Once that happened, the two of them rolled slightly and ended up with Freya lying directly on top of Xaden with their arms still wrapped around each other.

Freya’s head was against Xaden’s chest, but she quickly lifted her head to look at him with a startled expression. Once they made eye contact again, they both started laughing.

“Not exactly how I pictured that playing out,” Xaden was the first to speak again.

“Me neither,” Freya agreed while shaking her head, still chuckling. She fell silent shortly after that and looked away.

Xaden smiled as he watched her, but it fell when he realized she was trying not to look at him. “What’s on your mind, Fern?”

Freya sighed.

“We can’t do that again, Xaden.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re marrying someone else,” Freya told him. “I can’t do this with you if you’re never going to be mine.”

“Freya,” Xaden started but stopped when Freya rolled off of him. He propped himself on his arms and exhaled, hating the sudden lack of contact between them. However, there wasn’t much he could say, she was right after all.

“Her name is Cat, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“And when does the betrothal kick in?” Freya asked, even though she didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Her 20th birthday,” Xaden explained. “Next year.”

“Exactly.”

With that, Freya got up from the ground and started brushing the dirt and grass from her cloak. Xaden stood up too.

“Freya, the agreement for me and her to marry doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“But it changes many things,” Freya expressed her concerns. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you either, but I can’t pursue something that I’ll never have. It hurts too much.”

“But-.”

“No buts. Please, Xaden, don’t make this harder than it already is. Your dad always said we were soulmates when we were younger and I never thought he was wrong. However, it wasn’t until we were older that I started to think he meant platonically. And that’s ok. You’re still my best friend, but just that.”

“How can you say that if the two of us were never given a proper chance to be together?” Xaden questioned.

“If that’s meant to happen then it will,” Freya said with a shrug. “But for now, you’re not mine. And, I think I just need some time to process that for the rest of the night. I’m going to head back to the dorms.”

“I’ll walk with you.”

“You can walk with me back to the steps, but then we have to take turns going back up to the citadel. I don’t want to risk getting caught again.”

At that, Xaden nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sway her on the topic. He and Freya stayed silent as they walked past the boulder and along the river again. There was so much both of them wanted to say, but it just wasn’t the time. Neither of them spoke the entire way back to the staircase that led to the courtyard.

“You go first,” Xaden spoke up once they reached the bottom step. “I’ll wait a few minutes then go too. There’s a larger stone to the right of the entrance to the dorms, move it to the left side of the walkway so I know you made it back without issue, please. You’ll know what stone I mean when you see it.”

“Ok, I will,” Freya nodded, then put her hood up and glanced at the steps she had to climb. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Freya took a step, but that was as far as she got before Xaden reached out to grab her hand so that she’d stop. She quickly looked back at him, wondering what he was doing, but all Xaden did was smile.

“Goodnight, Freya,” he said and squeezed her hand.

“Goodnight, Xaden,” she replied and squeezed his hand back before letting go and making her way up the steps.

When Freya reached the courtyard, she slipped into the shadows again as she continued toward the first year's living quarters. The courtyard was silent, but Freya was still hyperaware after her run-in with her wingleader earlier in the night and assumed he was still lurking nearby somewhere. Basgiath’s bells rang in the distance, indicating the beginning of a new hour and Freya exhaled.

“At least I haven’t been out a full hour,” she muttered to herself, remembering that she was still in her bed waiting for a sign from Xaden the last time she heard the bells toll.

She made it through the courtyard with ease, but Freya still sighed in relief when she saw the entrance to the dorms come into view. Once she reached the doorway, she looked at the ground to the right and spotted a perfectly round stone that was larger than the others it was amongst. Freya smiled as she bent down to grab the stone and move it to the left side of the walkway so Xaden would see, then quietly opened the door and went inside.

Once indoors, Freya looked both left and right to make sure she was still in the clear before heading left toward the women’s hall. She moved quietly but quickly as she made her way down the hall and sighed in relief when she saw the large door that would take her back to where the beds were.

However, while taking those last few steps toward the door, something shifted. The air suddenly got unnaturally cold as a breeze blew by, to the point that it made Freya shiver, even in her heavy cloak. She knew there was something odd happening, so she stopped and spun around. At first, she was met by the darkness of the hallway, but then her eyes focused on the figure of someone leaning against the wall, who was just barely visible in the moonlight that shone in from a nearby window. It was Nathan.

“Goodnight, Freya,” he said as he stepped back into the shadows, then he was gone. The temperature returned to normal and Freya was left speechless. However, she brushed it off and quickly made her way into the barracks so she could finally go to sleep.

~*~

Freya heard a shuffling noise from nearby but kept her eyes closed. She refused to believe it was time to wake up already, especially since she only got maybe four hours of sleep following her meeting with Xaden. It was just too soon.

The shuffling sounded again, but this time it seemed closer and that’s when Freya thought that maybe it was nearing time to way up. She blinked her eyes open, expecting to be met by sunlight pouring in from the windows, but it was still fairly dark out. The sun was just beginning to rise. Confused, Freya sat up and looked over at Nova’s bed to see her still asleep and was left feeling even more puzzled.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a female voice spoke up from behind Freya, making her jump. But before Freya could even look at the person, they quickly wrapped a rope around her neck and pulled it tightly, choking her.

Panic took over as she instinctively reached up to remove the rope from her neck, but it was no use. The female cadet only pulled tighter, making it impossible for Freya to breathe.

“That relic on your arm makes you a liability to the quadrant. I’m just doing what someone else would’ve inevitably done.”

Freya desperately tried to inhale, but just couldn’t. Her fighting against the rope only made it worse and it wasn’t long before her vision started getting blurry. The cadet yanked again, which resulted in Freya being pulled from her bed and landing on the ground with a thump, the rope not loosening even slightly. However, the thump Freya made when she hit the ground was enough to stir some others awake.

“What’s going on?” Nova asked as she tiredly blinked her eyes open, then gasped when she saw the scene unfolding in front of her. “Freya!”

“Don’t interfere,” another female cadet with blonde hair spoke up from behind where Freya was struggling on the ground, then stepped forward and pointed a dagger at Nova threateningly.

Nova looked at the girl questioningly as she stood up, then wasted no grabbing the girl's wrist and knocking the dagger out of her hand. The two of them engaged in one-on-one combat, but it was obvious Nova had the upper hand. Freya made a mental note to tell Nova how badass she was, well, if Freya survived she would.

On top of her increasingly blurring vision, Freya started feeling lightheaded at the lack of oxygen she was getting, but she still tried her best to get free. Then, she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

“Freya, your boot!”

It was the same words Nova said to her before she went onto the parapet, but it didn’t sound like Nova, it sounded like Bennett. Regardless, Freya did glance at her boots which were neatly tucked under her bed just an arm's length away, and then it clicked. She had a dagger in one of those boots.

Acting fast, Freya reached for her left boot, and sure enough, the dagger that once belonged to Caden was right where she left it. Without a second thought, she switched the blade open and jammed it back into the cadet’s shoulder as hard as she could.

The girl cried out in pain and let go of the rope as she reached up toward her injury. Freya kept her grip on the dagger and yanked it out of the girl’s shoulder as she rolled away, pausing only to take a deep breath so she could fill her lungs with the air they required. Unsurprisingly, she coughed as she was finally able to breathe. Freya tried to ignore the fact that this was the second time in one night she was left breathless, but not in a good way.

However, Freya was still in defence mode and quickly stood up while still trying to catch her breath. The other cadet didn’t stand though and that’s when Freya noticed how much blood she was losing from the stab wound.

“Someone help me get her to the healer’s quadrant, now!” The blonde cadet yelled as she rushed past Freya and helped her attacker stand up. More girls surrounded the scene and looked at each other unsurely. Then one other cadet stepped forward to help them. Of course, it was Amber Mavis.

Freya watched, still taking deep breaths but she was at a standstill. The cadet that attacked her was fighting to keep her eyes open as she was carried away by the other two.

“Freya,” a voice spoke up softly from behind her. She was met by Nova and Bennett when she turned around to face them.

“I didn’t mean to cause that much damage,” Freya stated and took a shaky breath, the first one that was unrelated to her trying to breathe again but was rather a result of the emotions washing over her. “Oh, Gods, what if she dies because of me? On the second day?”

“Freya, she showed no remorse in attempting to murder you,” Nova told her firmly.

“You acted in self-defence,” Bennett chimed in. “You would be dead on the ground right now if you didn’t fight back.”

“I know, but still,” Freya stressed. “It’s kill or be killed in this place, but fuck, I didn’t think I’d crack already.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Nova assured, then pulled her in for a hug. Freya immediately returned the gesture. “Come on, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

By the time Freya, Nova and Bennett returned to the barracks, most of the room was cleared out. It was time for breakfast so they were able to change into their uniforms in peace. Once changed, neither of them spoke a word as they all glanced at the now spotless floor, clean of the blood pool that was there about thirty minutes prior. A feeling of dread overcame Freya as she took a deep breath, then followed the other two out of the dorms and toward the gathering hall.

Freya didn’t have much of an appetite, but still took a plate of breakfast. She knew that she needed to force herself to eat something if she wanted to stand a chance on the sparring mat later that day. When she turned around, it didn’t take long for her to spot Xaden and Garrick where they sat at the end of a table, separated from the other first years that sat nearby.

“You go talk to your guys,” Bennett spoke up from where they stood next to Freya. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

“Yeah,” Nova said. “They’re going to want to know what happened.”

“Ok,” Freya replied. “Thank you, both of you. I’ll see you two at formation.”

Nova and Bennett smiled, then went on their way. Freya watched them go, then let her gaze fall back on her boys. She took a deep breath and headed towards them.

The tight-fitted tunic Freya wore as part of her uniform didn’t cover enough of her neck to hide the very noticeable bruise the rope left. It looked like a choker in a way minus the redness and swelling. She felt numerous pairs of eyes watching her as she walked down one of the aisles between tables and knew exactly what they were looking at. Freya hated the attention she was getting but tried to not let it get to her as she let her eyes scan the tables of people once again before they fell on someone, in particular, sitting at a table toward the back of the room with all the other wingleaders and section leaders.

Nathan watched her like a hawk and Freya could feel herself stiffening under his gaze. He was studying her and Freya hated it. She still didn’t understand what his deal was. However, the two of them held eye contact until a voice stole Freya’s attention away.

“What the hell happened?” Garrick asked, and Freya quickly glanced toward him and Xaden, who both stood up as she approached.

“Hey,” she greeted them sheepishly. “And nothing to worry about. Just an incident in the barracks this morning.”

“Just an incident, my ass,” Xaden said, then walked right up to her. He didn’t care who saw as he gently touched the side of her and ran his thumb over the bruise. Freya flinched as he touched the sensitive area, making his heart sink. “Who did this to you?”

“A female cadet,” she whispered in response. “Just as I was waking up. Can we sit down, please? People are staring.”

Xaden nodded, then led her back to the table so she could join him in sitting across from Garrick. Once they were seated, Freya filled them in on everything that happened.

“So, you don’t know if she’s dead or not?” Garrick asked, to which Freya just shook her head. “Gods. Whether she is or not, that could’ve been you, Fray.”

“I know, but it’s not,” Freya murmured, then poked at her breakfast with her fork. “She could be dead for all I know and I’m the one that caused it.”

“After she tried to brutally murder you,” Xaden reminded. He was dead silent while Freya told him and Garrick what happened, it was obvious he was fuming. “If anything, she had it coming. You didn’t have another option, Freya. It was that, or you died.”

“I know but, would it have happened if it wasn’t for this damn relic on my arm?” She snapped, making the other two fall silent. Freya took a breath to calm herself. “Listen, I know you’re both trying to help and I appreciate it, but I’m allowed to not feel relieved that I may have killed someone for the first time even if it meant saving my own life.”

The boys nodded.

“You’re right,” Garrick agreed. “Sorry, Freya. We didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s alright. Again, I know the two of you are just looking out for me. But, I need to process everything that happened to me this morning on my terms.”

“We understand,” Xaden stated, then glanced down at Freya’s almost full plate and decided to use that as a way to change the topic. “You should eat more of your breakfast, Fern.”

“I’m trying,” Freya muttered. “Not overly hungry.”

“I know, but it’s almost time for formation. Please, eat some more. For me?”

Freya glanced toward Xaden and smiled, silently agreeing to eat more before they had to go.

“For me?” Garrick repeated in a high-pitched voice, mimicking what Xaden had just said. “The two of you are so obvious with the blatant flirting sometimes.”

“Shush,” Freya chuckled in response, a blush burning at her cheeks. However, she didn’t play into his teasing. Instead, she placed a small bit of egg on her fork and then flung it toward her friend’s head. Unsurprisingly though, Garrick caught the egg in his mouth with ease then looked at her with a pointed gaze.

“Nice try, Tarlor. Now eat the rest of your damn food.”

Once breakfast was over, Freya, Xaden and Garrick all made their way to the courtyard for formation. When they arrived, Freya joined her squad, standing next to Nova in the back right corner of their area while Xaden took the spot of his squad’s area that would have him closest to Freya again. Garrick stood on his opposite side.

Freya zoned out when a scribe began naming off those on the death roll. Since the names on the death roll included those who died crossing the parapet and everything after, the list was rather long. Freya tried listening but struggled to focus. Among the names that were said, Freya knew one was the girl that fell off the parapet right away and another was the boy who fell off the parapet right in front of her. It was crazy to her that she didn’t even know their names.

“Cecily Walters,” the scribe listed off the last name on the list. “May we commend their souls to Malek.”

“Oh, Gods,” Nova whispered, then looked over at Freya sympathetically. “Cecily was the girl that attacked you.”

Freya could feel the colour draining from her face as she processed Nova’s words, but remained silent. She disassociated soon after and didn’t listen to anything more that was said during announcements.

Most of the day following formation went by in a blur. Freya’s head noticeably wasn’t where it needed to be during classes and she increasingly became more annoyed with herself because of it. She hardly paid attention during History and Battle Brief and somehow made it through both without getting called on to answer a question. Then, before she knew it, it was time for Gym.

Once changed into her fighting leathers and with her hair pulled back in a tight crown braid, Freya walked through the large gym that took up the majority of the first floor of the academic wing with Bennett. Most of the first years stood on one side while the second and third years stood on the other. Between them, amongst 20 or so mats, people were sparring with one another.

Freya joined the first years standing on the sidelines watching and letting her eyes scan over the various mats. Most opponents seemed evenly matched with one another from what she could see. On a mat a few feet over to her left, Nova circled another first year. Her opponent, a male cadet was noticeably larger than Nova, but it was obvious he didn’t anticipate how quick she could be. The boy took one swing at her, which Nova dodged easily, before swiftly ducking under his arm and grabbing ahold of it. She then twisted the cadet's arm behind his and pulled. He yielded soon after that.

Despite only knowing Nova for just barely 24 hours, Freya expected such an outcome. She knew Nova was a force to be reckoned with.

“You and you next,” Professor Emetterio said while pointing at two more first-years to be on the mat next. “Remember, we’re just assessing today. No need for any casualties or severe injuries, but also show off what you can do.”

Freya continued scanning the mats and it was then that she spotted Nathan sparring in one of the back corners. He was smiling while talking to his opponent with dark skin and black hair as they circled one another. As Freya observed, she got the impression that the two knew each other well. Then she realized Nathan’s opponent was her section leader, a man named Finn.

The two circled a few more times and that’s when Freya found herself letting her gaze trail down Nathan’s body, respectfully. He was shirtless, showing off just how fit he was and Freya could not look away from his chest and abs. He was stunning, to say the least, and for some reason, Freya found herself blushing just watching him.

“If you’re done gawking at our wingleader, you might want to check out this match over here,” Bennett suggested, making Freya jump. They laughed at her, then nodded toward a mat opposite Nathan’s where Xaden and Garrick were facing off. Shirtless, of course. “Not sure how you’re ‘just friends’ with those two men right there.”

Freya knew what they were referring to and she couldn’t argue it. Xaden and Garrick were both attractive men. She didn’t miss the way they smiled while taunting each other on the mat, either, but tried to ignore the sweat glistening on both of their upper bodies thanks to how hot it was in the gym. Then, Freya’s gaze fell onto just Xaden and she saw the playful glint in his eyes before he finally took a swing at Garrick. The two of them got a few good hits on one another, Freya didn’t know which one would yield first. Then, Xaden ducked an incoming right hook from Garrick and swiftly kicked Garrick’s legs out from underneath him, making him fall backwards onto the mat. Once on the ground, Xaden quickly pulled Garrick into a headlock, forcing him to yield. A victorious smile stretched across Xaden’s mouth, then he looked up and somehow met Freya’s gaze through the crowd. When their eyes locked, that smile grew as he winked at her.

Freya rolled her eyes and shook her head, making sure Xaden would see before she looked away, hoping her cheeks weren’t as noticeably red from the blush she felt continuing to burn them. Then, she let her gaze drift back to Nathan’s mat just as Finn yielded in response to the way Nathan had him pinned on the ground with his arm twisted behind his back. Nathan smiled at his victory but was quick to help his friend stand back up. Once they started moving away from their mat, Nathan looked toward Freya.

Her immediate instinct was to look away, but she didn’t and neither did he. They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Nathan smirked, and then nodded in her direction.

“You and,” Professor Emetterio’s voice snapped Freya out of the little trance she’d fallen into as he chose two new opponents to face off. “You.”

He’d just selected two more first years to spar, both female and as they stepped onto the mat in front of her, Freya noticed that one of them had a relic mark just like hers.

The girl was shorter than Freya and not very muscularly built with long brown hair and tanned skin. She looked terrified of being on that mat against someone much larger than her.

“Use speed to your advantage,” Freya said under her breath as the two girls circled each other and the girl with the relic ended up standing nearby. The way she quickly glanced over her shoulder in Freya’s direction was enough proof that she’d heard her. “Don’t let the size difference scare you.”

The girl nodded and Freya watched as she dodged punches and kicks with ease. After a few more hit attempts, her opponent seemed to get a bit winded and that’s when the girl with the relic struck. She swung her right fist into the other cadet’s stomach with enough force, that they hunched over in pain. Then, the cadet with the relic pulled the other girl down to the ground in a headlock of sorts and tightened her arms. The other girl yielded soon after.

Both girls got up after the mat, then joined the first years once again. However, the girl with the relic stopped before she could pass Freya.

“Thank you,” she said with a nod. “I needed the reinforcement. I’m Amira.”

“Freya.”

“I know,” Amira replied with a smile. “Thanks again.”

Freya blinked as she watched Amira go. She could’ve sworn she’d never seen the girl before, but somehow Amira knew who she was. It was an odd feeling to have, however, Freya’s thoughts were sidetracked when Xaden and Garrick joined the first year’s side while Nathan stood amongst the second and third years just a few steps behind.

She found herself glancing between Xaden and Nathan again and felt silly with how obvious she was probably being, but at least neither of them was looking at her. Well, until Professor Emetterio pointed at her and spoke up again.

“Alright, you and,” he trailed off looking around for someone to pair her up with. A wave of anxiety washed over Freya as she stepped forward, but she didn’t let herself get too in her thoughts as she stepped onto the mat, seemingly at the centre of attention all of a sudden. Emetterio took his time choosing Freya’s opponent and it began to stress her out. Then she noticed Nathan watching her as leaned toward a male second-year, who nodded at whatever Nathan said and then stepped forward to the front of the group. “Ah, yes, you.”

As if on cue, Emetterio chose the very tall, very muscular man who just stepped forward as her match, making Freya’s heart fall into the pit of her stomach. She immediately looked at Nathan again, knowing that this had been his plan, but he just looked back at her with an unreasonable expression that infuriated her. However, she wasn’t the only one who noticed Nathan’s plotting against her.

“Our wingleader is setting her up,” Xaden spoke to assumedly Garrick, Freya couldn’t look over her shoulder to confirm as she and the second year began circling one another, but she knew it was Xaden’s voice. “What is his problem?”

It was hard for Freya to focus on her opponent while hearing the chatter around her. It wasn’t just Xaden talking, others were speaking about her in general and it was distracting. Then, she found herself thinking about the advice Caden used to give her about blocking the outside noise. Their words could only get to her if she let them.

Pausing briefly, Freya took a deep breath to help centre herself. Unfortunately, that was enough of her letting her guard down. She was soon met with a harsh right hook as her opponent's fist came in contact with her jaw.

Freya gasped, and so did others around her following the hit. She looked back at the boy with wide eyes as the unpleasant metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, then spit some out.

“Relax,” Emetterio warned. “We’re just assessing today. There’s no need to injure another, Jasper.”

“I won’t go too hard on her,” the boy, Jasper, replied with a smirk. “Looks like someone tried to take her out already based on that bruise around her neck.”

That was enough to set Freya off. She didn’t respond, just started attacking. Her kicks and punches were strong and fast. They were enough to take a toll on Jasper. She needed to beat him down a bit and after one particularly hard knee to the stomach that left him hunched over in pain, Freya thought she finally had him. And she did until she noticed Xaden walking around the mat with a look of pure anger on his face. His eyes were set on Nathan, and that made Freya go still as she watched the scene unfold.

“Xaden, don’t,” were the only words Freya could get out before she was met with a fierce blow to the stomach. This time it was she who hunched over in pain and Jasper capsized the opportunity. He grabbed Freya’s left arm, the one she was using to hold her stomach, then flipped her over his back. A groan left Freya’s mouth as she came in contact with the hard surface face first, and soon Jasper began twisting her arm at an ungodly angle as he placed his knee against her back to hold her down.

“Yield,” he yelled while twisting her forearm tighter.

“No!” She yelled back and tried to get out of his hold, but it was no use. Jasper had her pinned. Then, she glanced up to see Xaden and Nathan talking.

“Yield!”

Except they weren’t just talking, instead they were getting into each other’s faces to the point that Xaden even shoved Nathan. Freya wanted to yell at them, but she couldn’t. All she could muster was another distressed yell.

“Yield, Freya!” Garrick called to her, but she still didn’t listen.

Freya continued resisting Jasper, only causing herself more pain in the process as she glanced upward again. Both Xaden and Nathan were looking at her and seemed like they might intervene, but it was too late. The next sounds to be heard were a sickening crack coming from her arm, and Freya crying out in anguish.

#fourth wing fanfic #xaden riorson fanfic #the empyrean fanfic #xaden riorson imagine #xaden riorson fanfiction #xaden riorson x ofc #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfiction #xaden riorson

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l30ra · 6 months

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From Under the Cork Tree and Internalized Homophobia - Part 2/2

A very poorly worded and formatted second post about all the FUTCT lyrics that I personally interpret as being about self destructive internalized homophobia and compiled into my interpretation of lore because I have an obsession with doomed yaoi apparently. Click here for first part!

continuing to feel more and more depressed about having to hide his relationships to the point of suicide the guy being the only place he feels comfortable ("youre the only place that feels like home") but never wanting to tell him because it could ruin things ("just so you know youll never know" in reference to his intense feelings about him)

trying to decide if it would be better to come out, but deciding against it, so instead becoming depressed again

mentioning his extensive lyrics about his secret relationship, and the lies hes told and feeling like hes the only one whose done this

continuing to not want to confront his own conscience and continuing to push it away

hiding behind walls of arrogancy as a means to try and protect his heart as he feels the guy doesn't care about him the same way he cares about him

"dousing himself in cheap perfume" in reference to hooking up with a bunch of girls as a cover up to his relationship, but still feeling like hes unable to hide it forever

saying its incredibly fitting that he now constantly smells like cheap perfume, as a homophobic dig at himself

referencing his arrogancy further here as being "vicious and carved out of stone" but only having become this way to push others away

trying to move past his feelings for the guy (what he "left") and live his life in his own protective shell (what he "has") but still missing himself intensely to the point it feels like hes dying

still being in love with the guy, and not being able to find anyone new that the tabloids would like

feeling borrowed and used by the guy from previous encounters feeling like a cheap hookup

feeling continually depressed from having to hide himself and put up these fronts for everyone else

admitting he messed up by revealing some of his feelings to the guy and dragging him back in to the relationship he was finally starting to progress moving through

saying that they'll never live this down because neither of them will ever be able to move past eachother

on his path to cover up his secret relationship, he ends up hurting a lot of girls

wishing that one of them would just give him up and stop allowing him to use her as a coverup (the boy whose had too many chances) because he knows he wont be able to stop by himself so he dreams of her telling him to basically fuck off

hating how the guy makes him feel but knowing he can't blame him, because they both have to make sacrifices (namely, hooking up with girls) to coverup their relationship

encouraging him to get in relationships with girls as a coverup but hating it anyways and ending up jealous

more women giving up on their relationships with him because they all end up realizing hes a lost cause and clearly not over someone, and while they dont know who it is, they dont want to stick around for it

he knows hes a disaster, but he doesn't try to hide it ("what did you expect")

still continuing this pattern of hooking up with girls to cover his relationship up,

making sure to put on a show for them so they have something to cover, trying to enforce his heterosexuality as much as possible

the secret relationship finally coming out one way or another

neither boy can be mad, because they both knew this would happen and they never stood a chance at actually being happy together

trying to play it off as if it doesn't matter, but hes still obsessed with the guy and unable to move on, contributing to his own pain

realizing this whole relationship and all the fake relationships hes had in the past were all some sort of self inflicted torture, but that the tabloids don't care nearly as much as either boy thought they would

now that his secrets out, he has to directly confront his own mind and internalized homophobia, which is an incredibly struggle

once again talking about his obsession for this guy, and how much of his life is consumed by this guy now

wishing they could go back to being in the closet ("in the dark lying on top of you") and implying that was what made the relationship work ("you'd like boys like me better doing this specific thing which we cant go back to doing anymore because people know") so that he wouldn't have to confront his feelings and could keep surpressing them

mentioning how since the start of the relationship hes wanted to go public but been unable to, as it was his worst fear

now that his secrets out, he starts self torturing in new ways, rebranding his depression of being in the closet to depression of being out of the closet (putting a new address on the same loneliness - his queerness, because the location has changed from in the closet to out of the closet)

realizing trying to dispell the rumors and stories arent worth the time or effort and becoming increasingly more and more depressed and contemplating death ("talkings a waste of breathe" + "livings a waste of death")

clinging on to the relationship until everything else fails around him desperately

finding him in a crowd at a concert full of songs hes written about the guy

talking about going from being ashamed and lying about the relationship (closing his eyes to block out his shame and crossing his fingers) to pledging full heartedly to the guy ("i swear") because his lyrics are an outlet for him and hes trying to process

essentially just referencing their various hookups and the trust they had in eachother to a certain degree (the keys to his car but never his house)

referencing their old hookups (his "love") and how he would shut off his mind, much like hiding a bible in a drawer, because both were doing nothing but shame him for being with this guy

saying both the bible and his conscience never did much for him anyways

trying to force this guy to love him ("love never wanted me, but i took it anyways"), when all he really felt towards him was sympathy at best, so the guy ended up leaving

still being obsessed with him, he wishes he would come back and blames his problems on him

finally recognizing that since the beginning of the relationship, all this guy has ever caused for him is heartbreak

still being in love with this guy despite the harm caused by him, and keeping up with his relationships through tabloids and such ("through the keyhole i watched you dress" is him grasping at any information about his love life he can possible garner from such small sources of information)

realizing the relationship is thoroughly ruined and theres nothing he can ever do to fix it

TL;DR

The writer hooks up with another guy, and despite his internalized homophobia starts to feel some intense feelings towards said guy, while said guy feels nothing towards him. To keep up appearances, they both hook up with girls publicly, but continue their relationship in private. This starts making the writer incredibly depressed, as he continues falling more in love but struggles more with his internalized homophobia and how this could affect both his and the guys career if ever made public. Eventually it is made public and people don't see it as nearly half as big a deal as the boys thought they would, but now the writer is forced to confront his own internalized homophobia, and the fact that his feelings towards the guy aren't reciprocated, and move on past them.

#fall out boy #futct #from under the cork tree #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #queer #lgbtqia #gay #lyric interpretation #lyric analysis #futct lore #fall out boy lore

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alpydk · 23 days

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The Circling Sky (Part 9)

TW - mentions of suicide, abuse, just general angst overall But this chapter has a little comfort and smut - Yay...

She pondered her next question afraid it would be too insensitive. “And you’ve not thought of doing something like that since?” “There were times after that day when I considered it, on the journey, at Moonrise, in the city. I’d always believed I was destined for something magnificent, promised it almost by my peers growing up, even by Mystra herself...” Gale sighed, the idea still one that still haunted him on some lonely nights. “Maybe it’s what I was meant to do.”

Ao3 Link

Grief had proven a strange emotion to Lissa as the days had passed. The first couple had felt almost overwhelming with her mind constantly being driven in circles about how she should cope with the situation. She’d been alternating between a sense of peace and then a wave of despair and still, it made no sense as to where each would come from. She’d held herself together aside from quiet moments alone or in the arms of Gale but as this day had begun, she’d woken feeling exhausted. She could feel her defences breached and her emotions running high, small comments causing her to snap before having to rein herself back in.

She walked alone beside the wagon, kicking up dust and trying to focus on a singular stone that would catch her boot as she walked. She was tired of grief now, annoyed by how much it was taking out of her, annoyed at how it was all for him. He didn’t deserve this much energy from her after he had taken so much. It had only been a few days and she knew it would go on for longer, for years in some cases but that was far from what she wanted. She had hoped that her poem would have caused her to move on, given her some acceptance and yet she kept going back to this same point. There was no denying, she’d seen him dead. But anger, anger burned in her ever so brightly, the only real emotion that felt productive. And anger made way for guilt; at her words, before he died, her behaviour whilst he was alive, her anger now he was dead. Just a repeating cycle she could not escape, never escape.

Her foot rolled on the stone, and she fell to the floor unexpectedly, the sound of a bottle smashing in her bag. It leaked the contents of wine which she had grabbed to drink with Gale once they reached the city and she saw how it lapped around her fingers mixing with the small rocks and earth.

The pain of the gravel under her palms was nothing in comparison to the ache in her chest, the sudden tightness of her throat as the deep sobs came without warning from the sound of the crash of glass. She saw the image of her father, the first time he had ever lost his temper whilst drunk, a plate thrown past her head smashing on the wall, the fear paralysing her young body.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as she felt the tears fall onto the dirt below her. The world ceased to exist as she drowned in the memories of her life with him, of being hit, of lies, of hurt and pain, and loneliness and heartache. Her whole life nothing but moment after moment of longing to be free only to still be a prisoner to him once he was gone. His death had changed nothing, still, he was everything and everywhere.

The hand on her shoulder barely registered as she gasped for breath trying to regain her composure, apologies being whispered between breaths. She felt Gale lower himself to bring her into a hug and she tried to push him away, to not be seen like this, to not be controlled.

“It’s me, Lissa, it’s me.”

She pressed into his chest with her hands, her strength failing her, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer. “I’m sorry...” she wept, her mind clouded by the thoughts of her father, and her sobs breaking through harder. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...”

Gale stroked her hair as she cried, this moment of mourning needing to take place. He watched as the wagon continued without them, the travellers on board gossiping and looking their way, but he cared not. He held her as her body trembled, words of love, anger, and guilt being spoken, his only wish to bring her some morsel of comfort.

---

“How did you get through things?” Her voice was hoarse as she spoke after the tears that had been shed. They were some ways away from the caravan and were moving slowly to catch up. Gale knew they only had a few days of their journey left and was in two minds of the pace he wanted to travel by: quickly for the news of Tav, or slowly for the same reason.

“I’m not sure if I ever did if I’m quite honest with you.”

He saw how she turned away from him with a disappointed expression.

“That’s not to say things didn’t improve for me though. A year ago, I was... well, let’s just say I was in a state that one might describe as forlorn. I’d prepared to leave Waterdeep permanently before I was taken onboard the Nautiloid.” This was the part of the tale he’d not told anyone, even Tav for fear of being judged, for fear of being seen as weak; his voice quiet as he uttered the unspoken words, embarrassed by his past. “I’d condensed my life down to a few magical items and set off in search of a remote location. One where I sought to end it all.”

She gasped slightly at his words. “What? I mean... Shit... I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’ve not spoken of it with anyone before now. Oh, the shouting that came from Tara when I got home to find she’d discovered my letters was something to behold.” He chuckled trying to lighten the mood, but his words let him down. “Before that moment it seemed I was doomed to succumb to the trials and tribulations of my condition. I just wanted it to be on my own terms though, somewhere far from civilisation, where I could cause no further harm.”

“You would have really...?”

He nodded, his eyes shadowed by the memory. “Yes. For the things I had done, for what I felt I was destined to do. It was the only clear solution presented to me at that time. It was by sheer fluke that I ended up in the predicament I did, with a tadpole companion becoming one of my saviours.”

She pondered her next question afraid it would be too insensitive. “And you’ve not thought of doing something like that since?”

“There were times after that day when I considered it, on the journey, at Moonrise, in the city. I’d always believed I was destined for something magnificent, promised it almost by my peers growing up, even by Mystra herself...” Gale sighed, the idea still one that still haunted him on some lonely nights. “Maybe it’s what I was meant to do.”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. Not you.”

“My dear, Lissa. Do not worry. As said, I am past all that now. Those days are over, and I am moving forward onto much better things.” His face brightened at her concern for him, glad to have this one person in his life right now, no matter the struggles they were both suffering through. “But that is not what you originally asked. You asked me how.”

The desperation in her voice came through clearly, a small wavering as the tears threatened to break through once again. “Gale, just before you continue. Promise me you’ll come to me if you think like that again. I know right now I’m... we’re... well, I care about you.”

He smiled but gave no further answer to her request. “I kept going thanks to those around me, like how you are here for me now, and I am here for you. But ultimately it came down to one simple concept: of just trusting in their words. That the version they saw of me, the one that I believed was broken and destined for a tragic end, was worthy of love, that I, believe it or not, was good enough.” Gale took her hand in his, squeezing lightly. “You are already everything you need to be. You just need to recognise it.”

The words were simple, no elegance or poetic prose, no musings of a goddess needed to get the message across; this message was as Tav had given him and he hoped Lissa would accept it, as he had. She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re too good to me... but thank you.”

---

The evening had rolled around, and Gale walked through the forest near the caravan’s camped location. The dark shadow of the last few days had passed, leaving him a little more hopeful as to what he might find once he reached the city. He could hear water in the near distance, a cascading rhythm as it hit the rocks and base below and as he followed the stream, arriving at a clearing, he stepped out from between the trees.

Moonlight shone down reflecting on the pool, illuminating the small area and the body of Lissa standing, bathing near the rockface. He watched as she ran her hands through her hair pushing away the excess water that had settled, how her body arched slightly, letting cool drops fall onto her face, washing away all the tension in her body. Gale approached slowly and quietly, not wanting to interrupt the spectacle in front of him. As she turned, she spotted him but rather than panic, shunning him away, she held out a hand, her face bright and full of desire.

His eyes drifted over her, over the way her skin glimmered from the precipitation, the way her hair sparkled under the moonlight. She turned from him, and he saw the curve of her hips, the subtle sway as she let the water run down her body. He removed his clothes, placing them in a pile to the side near hers and joined her, the sound of the waterfall blocking any other noises around them.

Lissa placed a hand on his face, feeling the wet bristles under her palm, the soft curve of his cheek, the presence of his flesh close to hers. No words needed to be spoken for what they both yearned for, just a longing in the eyes of one another, tender kisses upon glistening flesh. The water flowed over them both as their hands explored each other with a newfound want, no longer of lust or a need to escape, but a deep love and bonding of their souls.

He pushed her back gently to the rockface, never taking his eyes from hers, and lifted her leg to bring it to the height of his hip, causing it to wrap around him. As he sunk himself into her, he felt the brief tug of his hair, the hunger that she communicated of wanting his moistened lips on hers. He was eager to obey, letting his tongue entwine with hers, letting the rhythmic movement of her body pull him into her, dictating the pace.

His muscles tightened as he tried to control his lust for her, he wanted her, needed her with every essence of his being but he would not make the same mistake as last time. He savoured the taste of her, the warmth of her mouth, the tenderness of her kisses. He could feel the pressure building from her, her face burying itself into his neck, the whispers of moans breaking through the din of the waterfall. Her movements became more wanting, unrelenting and he knew it would not be long before he would have to give in to his own craving. His body trembled as she clenched herself around him, her nails digging lightly into his back, and he let himself join her in the wave of ecstasy that overtook them both.

All that could be heard was the murmuring of the waterfall washing away their sins, their problems, their pasts.

---

They sat by the campfire together wrapped in a single large blanket, Lissa’s bag drying a short distance from them, her book in tatters with the pages dyed red. Their bodies were close to one another, an unspoken need for each other’s physical contact and Lissa would catch Gale glancing at her now and again, a small blush creeping on her cheeks. She rested her head on his shoulder, content with the world around her for the moment. “When we reach the city, could I stay with you for a while? At least until I’m on my feet.”

He delicately kissed the top of her head. “My love, I’d have it no other way.”

---

You told me just to write, And not think of what if. To take a leap of faith, And trust what I feel.

So that’s what I’ll try, In every aspect of life. From the poems and stories, To the choices at night.

From holding your hand, To a stroke of your face. Everything I’ve avoided, Always thinking what if.

I take that chance now, All thanks to you. I throw away my what-ifs, To say I love you.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #bg3 fanfiction

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

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im going to be honest with you im so lost with teeth and talons. rhysand is a god and so is lucien but azriel is a demon? and elain was turned like mc was but she's not a demon? and azriel wasn't neglecting her, he literally kidnapped her and now it's his fault mc is going crazy? was she already his mate when she was human?

(Small acowar spoilers below!)

Sorry yeah I guess it’s probably even more confusing with the upload times 😭

So Rhys is a god (instead of High Lord), Lucien is the son of a god (since he’s from Beron/Helion), and Elain was turned into a demon but she uses her powers to do her work as a priestess—she could still turn into some horrifying hell beast if she wanted to :)

With the neglect, I’d argue Azriel was really quite cruel to her at times…?

For example, this scene from Chapter 4:

‘You peer up at him, arms wrapping across your chest, keeping your nightclothes in your hands. “‘Thank me'?” You echo, voice shaking. "For what?" You swear something like amusement gleams in his eyes as he leans down, so he can stare at you. "For bringing you to a river instead of dumping you in some frozen wasteland for the beasts to fight over."

Then his wings are pulling away, shadows retracting back to him, light returning to your skin.

You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and feel yourself fracture. The tiniest break, splitting along your vertebrae. Your lips part slightly, vision blurring with painful confusion. He's so... volatile. You can never tell what mood he's in. Whether he'll be nice to you, let you nestle into his fur when he shifts to sleep, or whether he'll snarl and snap, degrade and punish you until your pieces are lying scattered across the ground.’

Chapter 6:

‘He doesn’t remind you of your belief that he’s forced you to reside with him in hell. That would cause too many questions, and he quite likes knowing you won’t try to escape, if only for fear of what lies beyond the castle floor which he holds you in.’

This scene from Chapter 7:

‘He leans closer, hot breath curling with his lip. "Why did you open the door?"

"I thought it was you," you stammer softly, peering at him beseechingly. He snarls at that, as if insulted. "How stupid can you be?" You reel back at the harsh words, staring.

"It had your eyes," you mumble, blinking back tears as you attempt to steady your breathing,

"I thought it was you. Don't call me stupid."

Just like that, he surges forward, tipping you backward onto the stone floor, pinning you down. His lip curls back from his teeth, then they're sinking into your neck. Words and sound are ripped from your conscious as pain lashes through you. It's not like before, not when it sent aching pleasure singing in your blood. This is punishing—agonising stinging. Muscles seize, fingers tremble, eyes wide. Your back arches into him at the onslaught of blazing brutality he's stamping into your skin.’

And this from Chapter 8 where she makes it quite clear she doesn’t want to be around him anymore:

‘He's on top of you, chaining you to the mattress as if it's a torture bed.

You need me. The words tumble freely into your mind, stretching across that strange thread that he's sewed to your soul. You need me to live.

You weakly shake your head, but it's little more than a tilt of your chin. "No..”

His hand settles on the pillow, and that strange pulse of energy washes through you. The bone-deep chill subsides, as if warmed by his power. As if in answer. What has he done?

If you don't undergo the Ritual, you will die, he says, in that strange, wordless way of his. You give him a look that you hope him to understand as, I will be happy to cross over, and be rid of you. By the way he stiffens, you think he does.’

Yes there were also moments where he took care of her, (the end of Chapter 8) but he made some pretty bad mistakes (like not telling her anything about the Ritual) which she still has every right to be furious about once she realises—which is what Elain is trying to get her to do.

End of chapter 8:

‘The thump of your heart grows weaker by the second, despite the increasingly frequent pulses of magic that thrum through your skin. Take the Ritual, and then you can return here. Remain as long as you like. Until the citadel falls to dust, and the rivers become lakes; become oceans. Remain forever, but take the Ritual, so you can see it all, and live.

If you didn't know better, you would say he sounds pleading. But you can hardly string one thought to the next, so you don't. Instead, you latch onto that final flicker he's shielding from the weight of the world, and nod.’

Chapter 9:

‘His dark eyes flick down to you, then he shifts you in his arms, lifting and moving you so your legs are tucked around his waist, arms guided gently over his shoulders. If you had the energy, you could purr. Nestle closer into him, feeling the firm press of his chest against your own, the strong muscle lining his body, the soft, silky locks at the nape of his neck.

"Hold on," he murmurs to you, one arm beneath you to keep you up, the other around your back, pressing between your shoulder blades then trailing down to grip your waist. Your spine arches, dipping as his forearm brushes the bone, holding just above your hip.

“I just want it to be over" you whisper onto his skin, head resting on his shoulder, tears blurring your vision. "It will be," he replies quietly. "Just a little longer.”’

Then there’s chapter 6 where he takes her to the holy lands:

‘He’s so close to the ground; you’re certain should he wish it, his talons could till the earth. He’s going so fast, hurtling through the open fields, moving with lethal motion, propelled forward by the powerful, beating muscle that binds his wings. Colour blurs by as you pass over dotted patches of wildflowers, leaving only gusts of wind in your wake, crystal-like water spraying to a fine mist as he shoots across a stream.

A laugh—young and wild and reckless—bursts from your throat. His shadows wrap slightly tighter as your grip loosens on him, allowing you to sit upright—that shield that he’s put in place blocking you from the air that would surely knock you clean from his back.’

Honestly in Teeth and Talons Azriel isn’t supposed to be wholly good or wholly evil, he just is, so I guess it’s up to you to make your own decisions and decide what to make of him :) 🧡💛

#anons <3 #teeth and talons #demon!azriel

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alunaloverworld · 1 month

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Fictional character crushes I had while growing up Part 1

These are the lists of character crushes I had while growing up and explanation:

Shou from Pretty rhythm aurora dream and dear my future

Shou, I had a crush on him in the first pretty rhythm series before the sequel and I like him because he likes a girl who does things unexpectantly even though he has a short temper, that is his flaw. He's also a great fashion designer of Prism Stone because his design outfits for girls are unique and trendy to wear.

Syaoran Li from Cardcaptor Sakura

Syaoran Li was more of a tsunder character type but he was shy and mellowed down to be kinder which I love about him even though he was jerk to Sakura at the beginning, I did grow to love when he becomes kind to Sakura which change him every time she does something to him and cause him to blush.

Tsubasa Li and Syaoran Li from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle

Syaoran Li reminds me from Cardcaptor Sakura only this time he's kinder, brave, and cares about other people minus the tsundere. While Tsusbasa Li is the same as Li Syaoran but the only difference is he can't protect those he cares about like his parents or his clones, but he still had Syaroan Li's personality minus the tsundere.

Tom MCcavity from Olivia series

Luke Triton from Professor Layton

The moment I saw Luke Triton in the Katrielle Layton anime series that he grows up into an adult, I fell in love with him because of his looks and has grown from his childhood days with Professor Layton being mature and more gentlemen like.

Jimmy/Kenta from Pokémon Legend of Thunder

Jimmy or Kenta I had a crush on him because he was a Pokemon trainer who wanted to help his hometown but he also helped a legendary Pokemon called Raikou which I like about him. He had a personality that is good because he wanted to help people and Pokemon, a bit like Ash but not a chosen one way.

Ash Ketchum/Satoshi from Pokémon

I had a crush on Ash Ketchum during the advanced generation because he is brave, kind, selfless, determined, optimistic, and naïve but when it came to the black and white series he was a laughing stock and more like he forgot things he went through all his journey. Satoshi from XYZ what made me like him more and he was great. But as I grew up I loathe him and admire him now. I loathe him because he could not win a single Pokémon league and I admire him because he was kind to his friends and Pokémon as well as determined to win. But after finding out he won a Pokemon league, I admired him, and my crush for him hadn't grown much except it was gone when I grew older.

Peeta Mellark from Hunger Games

I had a crush on Peeta Mellark because of Katniss telling the readers she was in love with him making me fall in love with him as well but in a crushy way. Peeta is kind, likeable, charming, generous, selfless because of love, peaceful, gentle, good sense of humour, emotional as he can cry and has a temper. Peeta is sadly taken and married and wish I had a date with him and marry him off as well but he is meant to be with Katniss.

Sekai Kamiki from Gundam Build Fighter Try

I had a crush on Sekai Kamiki because of his fiery temper to compete in the gundam competition and the fact that he is in a love triangle between two characters from the show that has feelings towards him. Yeah he is new to gundam, but he learns how to build one and make one of his own making him interesting.

Dillon from Power Ranger RPM

I had a crush on Dillon because he was a mysterious guy who has a past that he couldn't remember and the fact that he is a cool brooding ranger making him an interesting power ranger. Also, the fact that he helps his fellow rangers even if he doesn't know his past, he will still help which is why I like him. Dillon is sadly taken by Summer the yellow ranger.

Phill Diffy from Phill of the future

I had a crush on Phill because of his interest in past technology as well as how past of the modern world works but he's such a dork that I love him, though I admit he is taken as well.

Danny Fenton from Danny Phantom

Danny he is a typical teenager who is a hero who saves the world by stopping ghosts coming from other world and transferring them back to the ghost world, yes he's a stoner who wants to become an astronaut but I like the fact that he takes cares of his friends and family. I had a crush on him on how he treats family and friends and he's good with them.

Kashino Makoto from Yumeiro Patissiere

I don't know why I end up having crushes on Tsunderes but damn Kashino was a fine guy even when he was a tsundere towards Ichigo which is why I had a crush on him because he is willing to help people who want to learn how to make cakes and have the same dream as him which is to become a patisseiere. Plus I like the fact that he was a blushing mess towards Ichigo which is why I had a crush on him. Kashino is taken and is married towards Ichigo so my dream of having him is zero.

Eugeo from Sword Art Online Alicization

Eugeo, oh I had a crush on him because of his kind personality and the fact that he was the best boy who is calm and collective and not ahead of himself which is why I love him.

Kirito/Kazuto Kirigaya from Sword Art Online

Kirito from SAO I had a crush on him because of how he is kind, yet a crybaby but still thinks of loved ones even when they're in danger, he would help them and try to get them to safely as possible. Kirito is taken as well because he's with Asuna who can cook.

Watase Aoba from Buddy Complex

Aoba, he was stupid sometimes but heroic nonetheless and always seem to be positive even when something happened to him that seems dangerous he would always head on be courageous which I is why I had a crush on him. Okay besides his good looks his personality wise was the best though he is with Hinata at the end of the show which I wish I could have him but he's taken.

Brandon Robert from Dork Diaries

I had a crush on Brandon because he was kind, didn't care about the popularity and always like photography taking pictures for the journalism and even musically talent.

Kakeru Kogure from Onegai my melody

Okay Kakeru I can explain, he is cocky and teases but he learns his mistake and tries to be friendly towards girls and nice to them and treat them gifts even though he was a bully. I had a crush on him because he was kinder and learn from his mistakes.

Luke Smith from The Sarah Jane Adventures

Luke, i had a crush on him not only based on his looks but his personality where he is intelligent, smart, helpful, supportive towards his friends and family and never fears his fears which is why I like him. But then I found out on an article he is gay, so that's over and done with.

Terry McGinnis from Batman Beyond

I got a crush on Terry because he was a loner and he's always stopping the bad guys in gothan city and I was attracted him because he was mysterious and a bad boy I guess. I even like when he wore the bat suit, but damn he was good looking.

Cayenne from Lady Jewelpet

Cayenne I had a crush on him because of how kind and caring he is towards Momona and the fact that he gets teased and blushed about by his friends of his feelings towards Momona which is why I had a crush on him.

Tim Goodman from Detective Pikachu

When Tim Goodman showed up in Detective Pikachu Returns he looked like he had a glow up which made him handsome from the first game of Detective Pikachu and I liked his hair style and his iconic hoodie but he's still sarcastic which I like and he is willing to help Pokemon in need while on the case even when trying to find his father.

Kokouda Koji from Yes Precure 5

I had a crush on Kokouda Koji because he is handsome, and kind, always helping people to learn and become better of themselves which is why I like him. It's not only his good looks but damn he can always be savior towards a precure like Nozomi.

Aladdin from Aladdin

I got a crush on Aladdin when I was a child because I thought of him as someone who can fall in love with a relationship even despite himself being a thieve. He has charm which I like about him and is confident in himself.

Robert Philip from Enchanted

Okay don't get me started Robert Philip, yes I know he is a grumpy old man that talks about reality instead of fairytales but I admit he does help Giselle out from eating the apple and remembering details from fairytales despite being a damsel in distress kind of guy which is why I had a crush on him besides his good looks. He does show he cares which I like about.

Prince Philip from Sleeping Beauty

Prince Philip has a good singing voice which is why I had a crush on him also his good looks. Personality-wise wise he is heroic and courageous which by the way is the trait I always like when it comes to characters.

Albedo from Genshin Impact

Albedo because of his ability to use a harp as a musical talent and talk things that I cant seem to understand about the world in genshin impact and doing research and able to use magic that is light I think and him being good looking.

Aiden from Barbie magic pegasus

Aiden is a sassy guy who would savagely burn your comment if you say something that burns which I like about him even though he has a rough past not able to give money back to his dad, he still cares barbie who was in magic pegasus the blond one. He's even courageous and I would say he is the best barbie crush I had of him.

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st4rbwrry · 2 years

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okay i needed to provide visuals before i wrote this bc i just love looking at this man’s face. look at what you did mocha just LOOK. you’ve pushed your agenda on me (which ive accepted with open arms) and now my brain and pussy are trained to react whenever i see or hear this man’s voice. demon daddy muzan got it like that fr 😩

ANYWAY listen to me babe. we were talking about voice links right? and that man’s voice is like……..idek how else to describe it other than what you already said: it’s PURE SEX. like auditory lust tickling and licking our eardrums and our dripping core whenever he speaks to us. so ima use the same “y/n” (us, obviously) from my last muzan thirst and just continue from there. the longer we’re with him the more things about muzan we start notice like his little habits or quirks or whatever that make him unique and we appreciate them more overall because we’re just sickly in love with him. one of those things is his voice and we start becoming like…eager and needy for his attention constantly just so we can get a chance to hear his voice again . he finds it a little annoying at first because he’s trying to do something or looking through papers and conducting experiments in his study and whatnot and then here we are whining in his ear and clinging to his strong back, “muzannnn, when are you coming to bed? i miss you,” our blubbering plea is muffled because we have our face smushed against back as we embraced him from behind. then there was a long pause, a prolonged silence that didn’t feel normal. a kind of quiet that told you he was irritated. turning his head halfway around, you noticed the prominent veins in his forehead, cheeks and neck pulsating angrily, but his face remained stoic and hard as stone. “woman,” was all he said before we reluctantly go of him in fear of what he would have done. he may have cared for you, but a part of you didn’t fully believe that and didn’t wish to test his limits. that one simple word held so much weight. it was rich and leveled, and had an unshakable quality that left no room for protest or back talk.

your heart raced uncontrollably, but your pussy pulsated in delight. you bit the inside of your cheek to contain yourself. “i’ll be completed with my research soon enough. it would do you well to cease your incessant whining and wait for me in bed, like a good girl. surely, you can do that, can’t you?” the fact he still didn’t even have the courtesy to directly face you when he spoke caused you to encase the fabric of your trailing night gown in a vice grip. you gave him a meek nod, “y-yes, i can.” he gave you a hum in reply, and fully returned his attention to whatever he was working on in front of him. “now, go on. i’ll join you later.” and you complied , because you wouldn’t dream of opposing him.

you especially loved to hear muzan’s voice when you and the demon king’s limbs were entangled with each other, the room hot and sticky with the sounds of your cacophonous moans reverberating off the walls of his extravagant bedroom, or the obscene squelching noises of him ravaging your body, and claiming your entire being as his over and over and over . tonight—or rather the last week or two— you’d been particularly needy because muzan was seldom at the infinity castle; he was out traveling for his own ambitions, gathering information, materials (including more unfortunate souls to turn into demons) for the ‘research’ he held so dear— probably more dear than you, if you let your intrusive thoughts conquer your rational mind. and when you had heard that he had been parading about tokyo with another woman, another human woman like you with her child, you had tossed yourself into despair. you’d become desolate, muddled with your own thoughts that you couldn’t seem to pull yourself out of. a small part of your mind expected something like this to happen, for him to get bored of you, but you just didn’t anticipate it in this way. and when he returned he didn’t appreciate your little tantrum at all. he wouldn’t dare to admit it to himself that he liked your attention just as much as you did, and felt indignation bubble you from the bottom of his stomach and quickly arose until his irritation was too much to keep to himself. he needed to exert it on something— and you were the perfect candidate.

so returning to the matter at hand, you enjoyed when he got. . . ardent like this, when he used his voice to talk you through the euphoric experience of being in his grasp, of having his thick, long fingers plunge in and out of your sloppy heat. you could feel the burning sensation of his lust (or was it love?) for you radiate from his body into your own. muzan had a grandiose mirror resting against the wall, and he had you spread out in front of it, your legs resting on top of his as his own legs held you open, and the other hand sprawled across the expanse of your throat to keep you facing forward, and maintain eye contact through the reflective surface.

“poor human, looks like all you needed was to be filled and your pathetic little attitude would go away, hmm?” your hips rocked and bucked to the rhythm of his digits, while you unintentionally let your ass grind back against his protruding bulge. “

“mhm. . .! yes muzan, i just missed you…”

“‘you just missed me?’” he mocked you sardonically. leaning closer to your ear, you felt his warm breath and sharp fangs graze your skin, causing you to shudder in his hold and arch your back even more than it already was before. he could feel you clamp down on his fingers, and he could feel his self-control withering away at alarming rates when he imagined you clenching around his cock like this, so desperately. “have you forgotten just who it is i come back to? who it is that sleeps in my bed, wears things i purchase, who it is i feed and take care of?”

you knew the answer to all those questions was you, and it made your heart flutter in your chest like a school girl, but you couldn’t find it in you to speak anymore, allowing yourself to get lost in the depth of his fingers and the intense stare of his bloody, crimson irises. drool and a needy whine emerged from your lips when he added another finger inside your gummy hole, and simultaneously added more pressure against his palm that constantly brushed against your throbbing clit with each insertion and withdrawal. so badly did you want to clamp around his arm, but his powerful thighs prevented you from doing so.

“repeat after me,” muzan spoke again after all he heard from you were pitiful mewls. the demon’s voice got deeper, the volume lowered, his tone huskier and even closer to your eardrum, so that his next words would surely rattle your very brain and soul. “i belong to muzan kibutsuji, alone.”

“i-i…belong t-to muza—aaah! fuck,‘t’s s-so deep…so deep daddy…” as if his fingers couldn’t go any further, you were proven wrong when his digits brushed against a certain, warm spot inside you that made you throw your head back against his shoulder.

“i know angel, i know. now look at me.” muzan completely disregarded your words as his grip on your throat tightened for a moment. his command left no room was law, and you obeyed to the best of you ability, although your vision was blurry because of the tears that started to pool at your eyelids. “repeat,” there was a short pause when he began to leave soft, wet kisses on your neck, never pulling his gaze from you; not once. “. . . after me. or you won’t get to cum. i can feel you squeezing around me and can smell your arousal so i know your close. you do want to cum for daddy, don’t you?”

I FINALLY HAD TIME TO FUCKING SIT DOWN AND READ THIS FUCKING ANGELIC ART AND SKENSJSJDNELWOODNENNSD FUCK MEEEEE BRO YOU RLLY DID IT. NO BC. NONONONO BC THISSSSSSSS ????? YEAH THIS IS IT. THIS IS DEFINITELYYYYY WHAT I NEEDED TO GET THE CLIT PUMPING BABY. lemme tell you sum. i still can’t get over how fucking nasty and seductive his fucking voice sounds like I WAS HEARING IT IN MY HEAD WHILE READING THIS ITS FR SICKENING. SICKENINGGGGGGGGGGGGG. MUZAN FUCKING KIBUTSUJIIII. daddy i’ll moan your full fucking government for 90 days on end if you needed me to. the way we’re clinging to his back bc we’re so needy for his attention and he treats us like a fucking PEASANT, not even bothering to look our way and calling us “woman” SSSSEEEEEZZZSZSS. idk what it is about the woman but it’s so hot LMAO. like i’m on the floor. his stern “repeat’ NGF I HEAR IT I HEAR IT SO CLEARLY ITS INSANEEEEE HOW FERAL IVE BECOME OVER HIM ITS NOT OKAY. IM NOT OKAY.

“i’ll be completed with my research soon enough. it would do you well to cease your incessant whining and wait for me in bed, like a good girl. surely, you can do that, can’t you?” bro could spit on me and i’d literally thank him like stfu muzan i will do anything you say. don’t have to tell me twice baby i swear. swear daddy SWEARRRER DADDY SWEARRRRRRDEEEEEEE . if i could moan into a text format i’d do it on meeee. i want you hear just how down bad i am for him. and you’ve made it worst love, so thank you so fucking much for this. LIKE CAN WE JUST APPLAUD SOSA FOR THIS FUCKING WRITING ???? like you get greater every time. i feel like i was rlly reading some top tier content. full fucking bestseller novel right here. you write tooooo good !!!! like you have to take all of these thirsts and turn it into one fic or else i’ll jump off a cliff. i’ll run into a brick wall. i’ll dive into a pit of swimming sharks.

i’m gonna think about this while i write this fic for him this weekend. it’s finna be so disgustingly freaky like yes i know i shouldn’t like this man, he’s a piece of shit who should rot in hell, but baby when it comes to that DICK ???? ima sit on it. ima ride it. and his face. ima be his cute lil demon who he fucks just to fuck. don’t care if there’s no attachment. i’m his. HE EVEN TOLD ME DID YALL SEE ? DID YOU SEE DID YOU SEEEE? he saiddddddd “have you forgotten just who it is i come back to? who it is that sleeps in my bed, wears things i purchase, who it is i feed and take care of?” EX-FUCKING-ACTLY HOES. KEEP THAT IN MIND WHEN YALL SPEAK ON DEMON DADDY MUZAN. SHIDDDDDD

#✉️ ❛ mail !#muzan <3 #muzan thirst #kny #wow wow wow i’ll never get over this #fucking brilliant #i also saved them photos with a quickness

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simplytheevebest · 2 years

Note

Oh Oh Oh I know I already send in something something feel free to ignore this but I LOVE THE AU. What about someone really dropping Farah which leads livid Saul to actually carry her around everywhere with him for a few days because NO WAY Iis he going to risk it again.

KEEP 'EM COMING LET'S GO

On Ao3

Farah the Fern Masterlist

Part Five: Inevitable

It's bound to happen, Saul knows this, he's prepared for it, but it's still no less of a shock and he's no less livid because they should know better.

A group of fourth years are on Farah duty, a trio of two fairies and a specialist who've had Farah as a teacher the majority of their Alfean careers. Saul knows them well, the specialist particularly, so he trusts them to take good care of her even as he chafes to have her away from his side. But he can't trust her alone in her office either, because she's conspiring against him for her freedom, which is both infuriatingly Farah and insulting. He's not restricting her freedom, he's keeping her safe. And for good reason.

He's training the specialist when it happens, he feels it the second it does. A bolt of fear, muted because of her botanical biology, lances through his chest like the pierce of an arrow. His hand flies to rub at the spot, gaze drawn from the sparring students to the school because something's wrong.

The canteen double doors are flung open with urgency; he's already cursing and rushing towards them.

"Mr. Silva-"

"What's happened?"

"It was an accident sir-"

"Show me."

The pot is shattered, there's no two ways about that. Dirt lies scattered across the stone floor and in the middle, Farah, as a fern, tipped over on her side like a common house plant. And the rage is immediate.

"Go and get Professor Harvey, tell him what you've done."

"Sir-"

"Now!" He barks, and the specialist rushes off, the two fairies kneeling to clear up the mess.

"Leave it!"

"But-"

"I said leave it, don't touch her."

"We're sorry sir it was an accident we didn't-"

"Enough. Get out of my sight, both of you. Now!"

He'll regret his tone later, he knows, and if he doesn't, Farah will make him. He'll apologize later, channel the patience Farah always seems to have in abundance for the stupid antics of her students and make amends for his harsh words but he can't feel anything other than enraged distress at seeing her there, helpless and vulnerable and made that way by her own students' carelessness.

"Oh dear, only a matter of time before this happened," Ben comments as he arrives on the heels of the specialist; Saul sends him scurrying after his classmates with a well-placed glare.

"You can fix her?"

"There's nothing wrong with her," Ben responds patiently, "The pot's broken but she's fine, aren't you?"

The fronds of the fern dip in a silent "yes," and for all the fuss, it takes virtually no time at all for Ben to repot her and clear away the debris.

"There we are, no harm done."

"No harm done!"

"Well not to Farah at least, but you'll fix the harm you caused those students soon enough," Ben deposits the new pot in Saul's arms with a pointed look Saul returns with a scowl. The herbologist raises a brow, "And if you don't, I'm sure Farah will have something to say about it."

And Farah certainly does.

"They could've killed you," he justifies to the cactus in his arms. He's forced to hold her away from his chest or risk the pesky poking of her spines. "I can't let them off that easy."

The cactus shrinks and then expands, grows taller and leafy and Saul's forced to hold her even less securely to avoid the stinging leaves of the thistle that droop over the side of the new pot. The violet flower that blooms like an equally prickly rose among thorns turns his way, unimpressed. Now she's pissed.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm trying to protect you!"

The flower turns away: I don't need your protecting.

"This afternoon has proven that clearly you do- ow!"

The flower returns his glare with an empty one, neither backing down. It's Saul -it usually is- who relents first.

"You can't use 'being a plant' as an excuse to win all arguments," he reminds her crossly, "But you're right, alright? Is that what you want to hear? I was too harsh on them. I'll apologize tomorrow. But am I allowed to be mad now? They could have hurt you Farah, and I know you're not partial to your own safety like I am, but it bothers me when you're put at risk, even if you don't see it that way."

The thistle fades and the head of the daffodil brushes the top of his hand, soothing just by her gentle touch the earlier sting she'd given him. Saul holds the pot closer to his chest.

"You're not leaving my side for the next week, regardless, and this isn't negotiable- ow."

This time, it's nettles.

"Pick one."

Saul stares blankly at the green and yellow harnesses the Solarian princess displays for him, trying to wrap his head around their meaning and hoping to God he's wrong.

"If this is some sort of reveal-"

"Nobody's pregnant," Stella snaps, "Bloom bought them as a joke but we actually don't think they're the worst idea. It's easier than carrying the pot around and worrying about dropping it again, and she can't stick you through the padding when she's feeling prickly. No offense," she tosses to the fern at Saul's elbow.

So he was right: they are front facing baby carriers. And thank God he was wrong as to their purpose.

"Just pick a color," Stella shakes them with purpose and Saul risks a glance to Farah, who is suspiciously fern-remaining on the matter. He takes the green one.

"Keep the other," he encourages, "A village and all that."

Stella beams and breezes from the office while Saul leans back in the chair, re-familiarizing himself with the device from Sky's baby days.

"It's really not a terrible idea, actually," he comments, and it's stoking her rage, he knows, to laugh when he looks at her, but he can't help it. It erupts out of him, and it feels good to see the humorous side of this entire strange situation when he spends most of his time missing her.

Farah remains silent, but the deadly nightshade sitting across from him says all he needs to know.

Spot the Nurse Jackie reference, and thank you to @faytalepsy both for the ask and the earlier suggestion of the baby backpack!

#fate: the winx saga #eve best #fate the winx saga #ftws #fate winx saga #farah dowling #saul silva #rob james collier #winx stella #hannah van der westhuysen #ben harvey #fate fanfic #farah the fern #fate asks

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litlunacy · 1 year

Text

Apprenticember Pt. 1 (Days 1-6)

Introduce your apprentice! Just their name, personality, appearance, and likes/dislikes for now! If you have pictures of them, post them today!

Ximena Ariti.

(a quick little WIP I worked up of her yesterday)

Pronouns: She/Her

Birthday: March 3 (Pisces)

Age: 28

Height: 5'6"

Hair: Black, long, just wavy enough to be unruly

Eyes: She has heterochromia. The left is pale green, the right pale blue

Familiar: Ember the black sable ferret

Personality: Quiet and more reserved with strangers, a big teasing goof with friends. Chaotic neutral.

Favorite Color: Blue

Favorite Food: Buttered noodles with grated cheese

Favorite Drink: Chai tea

Favorite Dessert: Coffee cake

Favorite Season: Autumn

Likes: Reading, painting, dancing, nature, collecting things (stones, shells, feathers), staying up late, stargazing

Dislikes: Hot weather, waking up early, cooking, pompous nobles, any insect with more than six legs

2. Who is their LI? What’s their relationship like?

Julian. She was doomed from the second she smashed that bottle on his head when he broke into the shop the first time (a story she loves retelling, mostly to embarrass him). His outlandish and outgoing nature helps bring out the fun, slightly more extroverted parts of her that she lost after she lost her memories. Going out drinking and dancing and being foolish feels natural with him, instead of daunting. In turn, she tries to keep him from doing things that are too exceptionally stupid, or, failing that, pull his ass out of the fire when he can't bullshit his own way out.

When they aren't out causing a ruckus (or in causing a ruckus), they do both enjoy just sitting quietly and reading together, usually in a tangled pile on the nearest soft surface. Julian also tends to drape himself over her like a giant, leggy blanket after a long day. He has occasionally fallen asleep while doing so.

Ximena has numerous sketches and paintings featuring her dorky doctor, and he gets very flustered every time he realizes she's made another one.

Julian was super unsure after he let her see his red eye the first time, "Are you sure this doesn't bother you? Really sure? It's not creepy or off-putting or disturbing?" Her answer was an eyeroll and, "You giant ninny, my eyes don't match either. Why would it bother me that yours don't?"

3. Give a short summary of their relationship to the other main characters!

Asra: Their relationship isn't what it used to be. They're still friends, but it's a little strained. Mostly because she can't believe he would put so much at risk to bring her back from the dead, what the hell dude? Not that she isn't enjoying being alive again, but that level of obsession seems unhealthy and makes her want to thwack him on the head.

Nadia: She likes her well enough, but the Countess is juuust slightly too posh for her. Once Nadia realizes that super expensive gifts make Ximena uncomfortable, they become pretty good friends and have tea together regularly.

Portia: They hit it off immediately. Portia is bubbly and fun but still down-to-earth and just absolutely adorable. She considers her a sister long before they become sister-in-laws. She's also really impressed with Portia's ability to turn on the waterworks to get her way, and will definitely pull the don't-make-me-call-your-sister card with Julian when necessary.

Muriel: They have a mutual understanding of 'nature is better when the humans are quiet'. He and Innana walk with Ximena and Ember through the woods, helping her gather herbs and other reagents for her shop. She brings him pumpkin bread from the market. It's peaceful and simple.

Lucio: He's a stupid goat and she's glad to be rid of him.

4. What about the courtiers? Have they met them? What do they think of them?

Volta is the only courtier she actually likes. She keeps snacks for her. She finds Vlastomil gross and creepy, Vulgora is exhausting, and she both despises and is terrified of Valdemar. Valerius earned himself a permanent spot on her shitlist by dumping wine on her when they met, and she's been a petty magician out for revenge ever since. 5. Do they have any other friends outside of canon? What about the minor characters?

Mazelinka wins her over that first night, and she quickly picks up the threaten-Julian-with-a-wooden-spoon thing from her. She's less effective with it than Mazelinka is, but it's the thought that counts. Ximena also becomes fast friends with Natiqa, who she bonds with over a love of harmless mischief and colorful clothes. Ironically, she also hit it off with Nazali about fashion as well, since she agrees with them that being comfortable and easy to work in matters way more than what clothes actually look like (she just happens to like things that are colorful as well as comfy). Ximena actually likes Nazali's 'hideous' orange waist-pouch, much to Nadia and Natiqa's chagrin. 6. Now, do they have any rivals? Maybe even a WORST ENEMY!? Spill the deets now!

Valerius. Not an enemy, but definitely a rival. Spilling that wine on her was a huge mistake, and now she spends every second that she's in the same room screwing with him. Lift the rug just enough to make him trip, a sudden breeze that slaps him in the face with his own braid, oops, his wine is suddenly just grape juice. Anything to embarrass him that can't actually be traced back to her. He knows she's doing it and is very greatly aggravated that he can't prove it. (Nadia and Natiqa are also aware that she's doing it, and fully support it. Natiqa even helps sometimes.)

#apprenticember #the arcana #apprentice Ximena #fan apprentice #julian devorak #portia devorak #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #lucio morgasson #that took longer to write up than i expected #still fun tho

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hookerpeach · 1 year

Text

Darkness & Light Part 2

Mountain Ghoul Fic | Unedited, Unbeta'd and subject to change at any time|

“What.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. Leah stared at the sibling who had informed her that she would no longer be on duty in the Vaults, instead, Leah was to report to the garden.

The sibling shuffled nervously before he began his explanation. “Well, Papa noticed that the gardens had become overgrown. . . And we already have so many other siblings down here already. I apologize, if you’d like me to I can find someone to-“

Leah cut him off. “No, I’m sorry, I’ll go.” She relented. She had loved working in the quiet hidden place that was the lower levels of the Abbey, but whatever the clergy needed, she would do. “I am sorry for snapping at you.” She amended.

The sibling nodded silently, accepting her apology before Leah turned and began her walk through the Abbey to the garden in the courtyard.

When she arrived the ground was still covered with morning dew and a chilly breeze softly blew her robes and veil, she looked around the stone courtyard, noticing just how overgrown the foliage had become.

Thick vines wrapped around the trellises and Leah had a hard time telling what was supposed to be there and what wasn’t. But she got to work, parting the foliage that had grown into one another, and finding half dead flowers beneath them. Leah huffed, standing to her feet to go look for gardening supplies.

She remembered a shed at the back edge of the abbey, near the woods that she had been shown her first week, vaguely remembering seeing shovels and gloves inside. Leah found them all with ease and returned to the courtyard, hauling the little shovels and rakes in her arms. Once she returned though, she was no longer alone.

The same demon she had encountered several days before stood, admiring a plant that Leah didn’t know the name of. The sun shone on his antlers and she noticed the plain tunic-like shirt and gray pants he wore, much different from the uniform he and the other ghouls had worn when they had arrived home. He turned to Leah and smiled, not like the feral one he had when they had first met, but still mischievous.

Leah decided to approach him cautiously, nodding her head politely by way of greeting. She tried to not show the fear she felt in the pit of her stomach as she sat the rest of the tools down and began using a pair of shears to cut away the vines from the flowers. Her back was turned away from the drummer, but she still felt his eyes on her as she worked.

“No gloves?” He asked.

“No.” Leah answered quietly.

“Your hands will get dirty.”

Leah turned to look at him, he had moved so quietly she did not realize he was standing over her, now. Her heart beat hard in her chest, she ignored everything in her that screamed, “run”.

“I. . .” She tried to think of the right words. “I like the feeling of the dirt in my hands.” She admitted, the demon’s eyebrows raised in surprise and his mouth opened to say something, but Leah continued. “My family lived near the woods and my siblings and I would play in the dirt.”

The Ghoul nodded and was quiet for a moment, Leah turned back to her task as he started to talk again. Crouching next to her. “I came to apologize to you, parva soror. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Leah pulled up what she thought was a large weed. The sound of the roots ripping from the earth filled the silence between them. She tossed the weed to the side and reached for another. “I wasn’t scared.” She lied.

“You gave me a fake name.” He said pointedly.

She swallowed, pulling up another weed. “I was told that if I gave you my name you could summon me.” Leah turned to him again, noticing the long, black tail that came to a point behind his long legs swishing back and forth. Not looking at him for so long caused her to forget that he wasn’t human. “I don’t want…” she shook her head. “I don’t want to be anything like that, I just want to live here and help.” She avoided looking into Mountain’s eyes. “If you are looking for anything like that -.”

“No one will touch you unless you want them to.” He promised. His green, glowing eyes bore into her.

Leah nodded, turning back to her work. They were quiet for a beat again before she spoke. “Do Ghouls have names?”

The demon huffed a laugh. “We are Nameless Ghouls.” But he thought for a moment and Leah looked over to him, meeting the green light that was his eyes. “But,” he continued, looking Leah over. “My siblings call me Mountain.”

Leah gave him a once over, he did look like a creature from the mountains. She let her own huffed laugh, causing Mountain to tilt his head to the side. His lips were still turned up into a grin. “What?” He asked. His mood shifted and he seemed… pleased.

Leah hid her smile behind the back of her dirty hand. “I just thought…” she sighed and shook her head and went back to pulling out the weeds. The smile remained on her face. “I thought that it would be something, you know… more…demonic?” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “But maybe that’s just silly.”

Mountain let his head fall back in a loud laugh, his fangs poked out from beneath his lips. “You were expecting something more like,” and he said something that sounded like a growl and a hiss, something that Leah doubted she could replicate if she tried. “No, we are nameless, but people give us nicknames and they kind of stick.” He shrugged. “Speaking of names. . .” Leah cringed, remembering the lie she had told him days before. “Should I call you sister Leah or Rosa?”

“You promise not to summon me?” Leah raised an eyebrow at the Ghoul who put a clawed hand over his chest and held up two fingers with his other hand in a promise. She laughed. “My name is Leah.”

“Leeah.” He said experimentally, groaning as he stood up. “I have to go, but I will see you again, parva soror.” He smiled at her over his shoulder, and left, leaving Leah to finish her work in silence.

+++

It didn’t take long for Leah to notice a pattern. Though she had successfully gaslit herself into thinking there was no pattern by the time the fifth day rolled around. She suspected that the demon - Mountain - had something to do with the way the weeds seemed to regrow every other day. It didn’t matter how much time and effort she had put into it, the task never seemed to end.

There was also the fact that every afternoon Mountain would be waiting for Leah somewhere in the courtyard. She suspected he came when she was out with Jas. He didn’t stay for long, usually asking Leah a few innocent questions and leaving.

But on the seventh day, Leah finally confronted him.

He was laying in the middle of the grassy garden, his hands folded behind his head, basking in the sun like a cat.

“He seems happy to be back.” Jas nodded to the Ghoul. “I’m surprised he’s letting you tend to it.”

Leah watched Mountain for a second before what Jas said struck her. “What?” She turned to her new friend.

Jas shrugged. “He took over the gardens after he was summoned, it’s kind of his thing.”

Leah felt her stomach churn. She had been foolish for thinking that a demon was just playing nice, he was probably just trying to warm her up to him before he did - whatever it was he wanted. She remembered the way he looked at her after he licked the small paper cut, the predatory way he stood over her.

“Have there. . . Have there ever been any virgins in the ministry?” Leah asked Jas a little too fast.

Jas whipped her head from looking at Mountain and her hazel eyes met with Leah’s. “Why?”

Leah stiffened at her friend’s tone. “I heard a rumor.” She shrugged.

“If there were any virgins,” Jas started carefully. “Then they would be in danger.” Her voice was a whisper. “The ghouls, we love them but they are demons… do you have something to tell me?”

Leah shook her head “no” a mask of innocence on her face. “I just wondered, because this is so different to the church I grew up in.” She shrugged.

Jas studied Leah for a moment. Her face was unreadable. “Alright.” She finally said and turned, saying goodbye to Leah as she left to report to her duties for the day.

Once Jas was out of sight Leah marched over to where Mountain was waiting for her in the courtyard. His mouth quirked up into a mischievous smile when he opened one green eye and saw Leah coming towards him. She tried to not let her step falter as she got closer, tried to keep the mask of indifference on her face as she neared the Ghoul, but the way he looked at her - like he was happy to see her, she wasn’t used to such a thing.

“Parva soror.” He purred in greeting.

Leah shuffled. “Why.” She finally said, staring down at the Ghoul.

He leaned forward, his eyes filled with confusion and concern. “Why. . .?” He raised an eyebrow at her, extending the question.

Leah gestured to the garden, to him and she felt as if she would explode if she actually said anything. “I -.” Her voice wobbled and Mountain stood up quickly, towering over Leah once again. “I know you are why the weeds keep coming back.” She finally confronted him. “I am not stupid.” She added with a whisper.

“Let’s go somewhere private.” He urged, reaching out to grab Leah's Shoulders, but she moved away from him.

“You said-.” She started, but a sob caught in her throat.

“Leah.” The Ghoul’s voice was rough. Her dark brown eyes met with Mountain’s and he looked just as serious as he had when he promised her no one would touch her. He shook his head. “Tell me why you are angry.” He said evenly.

Leah swallowed, looking around to make sure they were alone. “Are you regrowing them? The weeds?”

“Yes.”

“Why.”

Mountain sighed and Leah assumed he whispered a curse in his native tongue as he looked down to the grass and spat. His eyes were on her again when he began his explanation.

“We ghouls,” he paused, flexing his clawed hands. “We may be able to appear, think and act human.” Mountain avoided Leah’s gaze, thinking as he spoke. “We are soulless, we have… instincts. And some of us are better at handling those instincts than others.” He looked Leah over, taking a step closer to her. “The day we came home and I smelled you.” The Ghoul shook his head. “I could have drained your blood in an instant.”

Leah shuddered at the picture he painted in her head.

“My siblings, especially two of them, are not as good at controlling themselves as I am.” Mountain continued. “I didn’t intend to deceive you. I just wanted-.” Mountain threw his hands up into the air in frustration. “I wanted to keep you safe.” He was standing over Leah again and put his hand on her shoulder. “Did they even tell you, what we do to humans like you?”

Leah’s face was cold despite the heat that crept up her neck. She shook her head in answer. “They don’t know. You’re the only one.”

The Ghoul’s eyes were wide open. “Leah -.” He whispered.

“I know.” She cut him off. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but my family -.” Tears filled her eyes again and she stared at the ground. She wasn’t sure if it was the anger or embarrassment she felt building up inside her gut, but she felt sick, sick in the thought that she thought she had found the one place she thought she could be happy, away from the fundamentalist church where she had been taught that she was nothing more than a walking incubator, where they had taught her the only thing of value she had brought to the world was between her legs.

Mountain’s voice pulled her from the wave of trauma, fear and guilt she felt. “Leah.” He said softly again and she found herself staring at him. “You are right where you need to be. As long as I am here, no one will touch you. I swear.”

A tear escaped Leah’s eye and she bit her lip before a thunderous voice called from within the abbey.

“Moooooooooooouuuunnnntaaaaaaaaaaaaainnnn!”

The ghoul in question said the same curse he had said before and his spaded tail flicked violently from behind. He shoved Leah behind him, shielding her from whoever was calling for him.

“Playing with the nuns again, brother?”

Another ghoul, this one with eyes of burning orange fire appeared behind Mountain and Leah. He wasn’t nearly as tall as Mountain, but he still stood a head taller than her. His horns came out of his forehead, much like the devils she had seen in pictures as a child. His dark brown hair was coiled into small curls atop his head. He ducked down so that his face was right in front of Leah’s, as if he were inspecting her. Mountain ushered Leah behind him again, turning to face his sibling.

“Swiss.” The taller Ghoul greeted with a nod, his serious tone making the shorter ones s smile grow wider. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to see why you’ve been late to practice all week.” Swiss shrugged innocently, but his smile was pure mischief. His orange eyes shifted to Leah. “And I must agree, she’s a lovely distraction.”

Leah felt the rumble from Mountain as he growled at his brother, his spaded tail whipped left and right. “Leave.”

“Fraterculus.” Swiss gasped and raised his eyebrows, putting a palm on his chest. “You wound me.” Buthe shook his head and was back to fun and games“Come, Papa calls us.” His face was serious when he looked behind Mountain to Leah again. “You can join us, Decoris.” Swiss winked.

Mountain growled again and the smaller ghoul rolled his orange eyes but still addressed Leah when he spoke; “The earth demons are so territorial.”

Leah laughed, their exchange reminded her of her own siblings. Mountain became rigid and Swiss’ smile grew wider.

“Won’t you join us?” Swiss held out a clawed hand to Leah, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at her. “We don’t bite, unless you like that.” He winked again, fangs flashing.

Leah bit back another laugh, but shook her head. “I am afraid I have to tend to the garden.” She motioned to the weeds. “But thank you.”

Swiss looked back to Mountain, raising his eyebrows again. Mountain didn’t move for a second before he turned back to Leah. The green light in his eyes had dimmed and he huffed, folding his arms.

“I apologize for my brother’s behavior.” He said pointedly, earning a loud “Hey!” From said brother. “Find me if you need anything.” He smiled, but it didn’t show in his eyes. He turned back to Swiss, nodded and they both disappeared in a cloud of ash and brimstone.

#the band ghost #ghost the band #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #demon au #save a drum bang a drummer #swiss ghoul #minor swiss #author is bad at tags #eventual smut #fanfic

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tirednerd2012 · 2 years

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Jonathan is the type of brother that would say he likes something when he really doesn’t just so he knows he can share with his brother. He did this a lot on his birthdays growing up when his mom would make him a cake, insisting something like strawberry cake being his favorite when he really didn’t like it. But will liked it, and so did his mom. Little things like that, he still put everyone before himself.

Will later found this out when they’re older and planning a small surprise birthday party for Jonathan. So now he’s on a mission to figure out what treats and things Jonathan would actually like so he can have what he wants on his birthday. He uses Nancy, if he used El or Hopper he would continue his lie. Nancy is fully on board cause she is excited to help plan this party anyway.

YES! Growing up, he and Will always had similar birthday parties because Jonathan told Joyce that he also loved strawberry cake and chocolate ice cream. Jonathan always liked what Will liked and Joyce tried to question it a few times, but he stood firm on it to where Joyce believes that he actually likes it.

On Jonathan's 19th birthday, the first one back in Hawkins since Vecna happened, Will decides he wants to do something special for his brother. Jonathan had always put everyone before himself and Will wanted to give him a surprise party and a special project Will had been working on for months. He sits down with Nancy and tells her how he wants to plan the party and the two get to work because yes, they want to give him something special.

It's Argyle that brings up the fact Jonathan doesn't like strawberry cake. Will and Nancy are at the table planning everything out while Jonathan and Steve are helping rebuild the town. Parts of Hawkins remained untouch by Vecna, but the areas that the earthquake hit took a toll on the community and everyone was working together to fix it. Argyle stopped by the house to pick up some things for Joyce when he sees the plan and says it.

"What do you mean he doesn't like strawberry? He's had it every year for his birthday..." Will sounds both confused and a little hurt by the concept of Jonathan lying to him.

"Oh, no. He only gets strawberry because it's your favorite," Argyle informs them and Will isn't too surprised by the fact Jonathan lied about it so Will could have his favorite type of dessert. Argyle then stops because he's somewhat stoned but knows he shouldn't have said that because Jonathan would be so upset to find out Will knew. But birthday celebrations were really the only time the Byers family could scrape the money up to do something special, so of course Jonathan wanted to make his brother and mom happy.

But Will isn't having it. He wants his brother to have a day where it's only about him. He tells this to Nancy and Argyle, who agree, but Argyle brings up the fact that Will can't be the one to confront him because Jonathan will still insist that he likes those things to spare Will's feelings.

"We also have to be discreet because your brother is one of the biggest overthinkers I've ever met. He'll figure this out if we're not careful," Argyle says. "I know his actual favorite is chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, but that's all I know about what he likes."

Nancy is the one to set out on the mission to figure out everything Jonathan likes. Steve helps, too, because there's no way Jonathan would ever expect Steve to be in on the plan. Nancy grabs a drink with him at a gas station and the two plan on going on a drive alone, so instead of the Coke he normally grabs with Will, he grabs a Dr. Pepper instead. Nancy makes a mental note of this and the two drive around before parking by a lake close to the outside of town, but they're still in Hawkins.

Steve says he needs to get some new clothes after the whole Vecna situation, and asks Jonathan to come along with him to Indianapolis for the day because he needs to pick something up for his dad anyway but hates making the drive alone. Jonathan agrees after making sure Will and El are going to be okay with him gone for the day (last time Jonathan left for a day, Will got possessed so he has issues with just up and leaving. But Vecna's gone now, the threats are gone, Will can feel it, and he assures his brother he's going to be fine.

It's in the Indianapolis mall that Steve learns Jonathan's go to food is a cheeseburger and fries, something simple and fast, yet good. Steve once again makes note of this and then brings up the fact Jonathan's 19th birthday is right around the corner. Jonathan says it's just another day, and he's just glad they made it through this year alive. Steve agrees because it still hits them occasionally that they made it out, but others weren't so lucky. And it hits them because there have been so many people they couldn't save. And they had been so close to dying on so many occasions.

They both take time to reflect how much they've changed and how much those around them have as well. Jonathan mentions that he'd been meaning to get back into photography but just hadn't had the time nor energy lately, which is sad because now that the world was finally safe, he'd like to get back into his passions.

Later, he and Argyle hang out. Jonathan doesn't really smoke weed anymore, but he does get the contact buzz of hanging around him and he enjoys Argyle's company. Argyle had stayed in Hawkins, no one but the two of them knowing that he didn't really have any family in Lenora anyway, and had been welcomed to the Byers with open arms. Even Hopper was warming up to the kid who did everything he could to save Hop and Joyce's kids.

Argyle knows Jonathan's favorite snacks from all the times they went to the store after a smoke session. But he's the one to dismiss all Jonathan's wonders about what Will and Nancy are up to. He notices them talking more than they did before, and Argyle says they got closer while he was in the coma, which isn't untrue. They leaned on each other a lot during those unknown times. They both also blamed themselves for what happened to Jonathan, Will for not being able to save him and Nancy for not being able to kill Vecna with the bullets. Jonathan takes all of that in, not too surprised by that but he wished it wasn't true, but his mind isn't anywhere near his birthday so Argyle keeps it that way. Besides, he always thought Jonathan had the right to know.

The day of comes and Hopper breaks out the grill. Murray helps, too, insisting that Hopper can't be as good of a cook as him and "we aren't ruining the damn kid's birthday over you not knowing how to make a burger, Hop." Joyce and El make the cake together, a tradition that had been El and Jonathan's, but this still seemed special to them. Will and Steve set up the decorations while the other party members set up the snacks. Argyle is getting the ice cream ("how did we forget the ice cream, Will?" "it was your job, Argyle!") and Nancy is with Jonathan, having a small celebration just the two of them. It's nothing major, just lunch at the park (the same park they got caught in by the government, but that's besides the point), and just curling up together in the car.

It's the first time in awhile Jonathan feels completely at ease. Nancy tells him happy birthday and kisses him. They hold each other for at least an hour, in no rush since the party still has to be set up, but they're also just enjoying each other's company. After the move to Lenora and everything that's happened since, neither of them take the moment for granted.

When they do make it back to the house, it's quiet and Jonathan panics for a moment because since El and Will have become a chaotic duo, they are never quiet. Nancy seems to be fine, though, not worried at all as they make their way in. Everyone jumps out and yells surprise, giving Jonathan a mini-heart attack as Will and El run up and hug him.

It's a small party, but everyone Jonathan cares about is there, so it's nice. Murray and Hopper are at the grill. They both wish him a happy birthday and Hopper actually hugs him. Jonathan returns it and smiles because they never get to bring out the grill, but he loves cheeseburgers, even when Murray and Hopper are arguing about how to make them right. He also notices his favorite snacks and drinks at the table instead of the normal Coke and things that he makes sure are there for Will and his mom.

Then El and Joyce bring out the cake and after the candles are blown out, Jonathan helps Will cut into the cake to see it's chocolate, not strawberry. He's thrown off until Will sees the confusion on his face and says that today is about Jonathan and he deserves to have his actual favorites. Joyce hands him a plate with vanilla ice cream on it and the cake, and Jonathan just smiles.

For gifts, everyone pitched in and got Jonathan a new, nice, professional camera. Steve made sure to buy extra film and Nancy got him a camera case for it. Hopper, Murray and Joyce paid for a good chunk of the camera, but everyone wanted to go in on it. El picked out two new photo albums for her brother that she thought looked nice and Will brings his gift out last. It's the project he had been working on for months, one that he never let Jonathan see, but he did show it to Nancy. It's a painting of the Byers-Hopper family and Nancy, based off a picture of Nancy and Jonathan and then a family picture. Jonathan has tears stinging his eyes as he looks at it and just thanks Will, saying it's amazing.

He goes out the next day and buys a frame for it to ensure nothing will happen to it. But he spends his birthday celebrating with his family and friends, and everything feels right.

He later thanks Will for putting so much effort into his birthday and apologizes for lying to him about those little things, but Will brushes it off, tells Jonathan happy birthday and that he loves him.

#stranger things #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #will byers #joyce byers #argyle #eleven hopper #jim hopper #murray bauman

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