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shadowdaddies · 3 months

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Omg it’s been forever!!! I have a request for Azriel!!! I was thinking, the reader is an amazing story teller and is known for being really creative and imaginative. At some point azriel asks if she’s ever thought about writing her stories down and he finds out that she doesn’t know how to write. Maybe juts some fluff with azriel and maybe cassian and rhysand teaching her how to write and like when she does something good azriel gives her kisses or something And then (sorry it’s kinda long) but maybe one day azriel asks her to tell him a story and it leads to some smut maybe… maybe where he’s kissing her neck while she’s telling the story I DONT KNOW I DONT KNOW but it’s been forever and I’m really missing requesting these! Love you 😘

Hey lovely! I've been having a little bit of writer's block lately and this was kind of therapeutic? idk but I had so much fun writing it💜💜

Inspired

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, romantic sex, oral f!receiving

Nyx’s giggle rang through the room as you waved your arms dramatically, acting out the story as you told it.

“The sorceress’s eyes glowed an eerie green light as she smiled, a snap of her fingers an order for the dragon behind her. Breathing a rush of fire, the creature lunged,” you continued, dragging your mate from his seat as you urged him to act out the scene with you.

“...And then the handsome knight charged, his sword raised to strike the hideous beast.” Azriel raised his arms as though he were holding a sword. Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “no, Az. You’re the dragon.”

“Right, of course. My mistake, Handsome Knight,” he retorted, spreading his wings as he hunched slightly, his best effort at resembling a dragon. Your arms swung, mimicking the action as you told the story of slaying the mighty dragon, Azriel clutching the imaginary sword in his chest as he made a dramatic heaving noise, collapsing to the floor.

“What is going on in here?” Feyre teased, an amused smile on her lips as she leaned against the doorframe, hand on her hip. “Nyx, it’s time for bed,” she chided the pouting toddler, reaching a hand to carry him to his room.

“But momma, Auntie’s story!” Nyx protested, the deep frown on his face emphasizing the boy’s chubby cheeks.

“Yea, Feyre. What about the story?” Cassian protested, his eyes wild as he looked to you and Nesta for backup.

Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully as she leaned into Cassian’s side. “I think we can wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story,” she promised, silvery eyes twinkling as she gave you a knowing smile.

You turned to your nephew, giving him a kiss on the cheek goodnight as you promised to continue the story - and make sure Azriel knew his role better - tomorrow night. With another grateful smile, Feyre lifted Nyx into her arms, the boy yawning as he rested his head on his mother’s shoulder.

You turned to see Azriel still sitting on the floor, laughter bubbling up as you took his hands in yours. “You can get up now, dragon,” you purred, a gasp leaving you as he stood swiftly, scooping you into his lap as your mate settled back on the couch.

“Where do you come up with these stories? They’re too good to just be bedtime stories for Nyx. I would read it in a book,” Cassian noted, flashing you a charming grin as he sipped his drink.

With a nervous laugh, you leaned into Azriel’s side, shaking your head as blush crept over your cheeks at the compliment. Nesta leaned forward, that warrior’s determination shining through her sharp features. “Really, you should try writing. I know some of the priestesses in the library have great resources and would be happy to help you... And so would I.”

Azriel’a arm wrapped around you, giving an encouraging squeeze as his lips grazed your temple. You turned to your mate to see hazel eyes shining with admiration as he grinned at you. “What do you think?” you breathed, nervously biting your lip as you awaited an answer.

“I think that you are the most beautiful, creative, talented, and kind person I have ever met, and I know many others would pay to hear what you have to say,” he murmured, finger crooking against your jaw as his lips pressed softly against yours.

“All right,” you whispered, unable to hold back the bright smile on your features as you turned to Nesta. “I would really appreciate the help, if you wouldn’t mind.”

WIth that, you made plans to meet Nesta in the library the next day, starting a pattern of working with the priestesses and using the House’s resources as you learned the tedious process of writing a book.

~~~

Exhausted, you trudged up the endless flights of stairs to your room, oblivious to your mate seated by the fire, who watched as you tossed your books, notes, and half-worked manuscript onto the nightstand. With a dramatic sigh, you flopped onto the mattress, burying your face in the pillows as you willed your head to stop pounding.

The bed dipped next to you, the familiar scent of cedar and rain instantly calming as Azriel’s hand touched your shoulder. “Everything alright, love?” he murmured, voice deep and soothing.

You practically melted into his touch, reveling in the feel of his warmth as you rolled onto your back to face him. A scarred hand cupped your cheek, tenderness in Az’s eyes as he waited for your answer. “I’m just tired, Az,” you sighed, gesturing towards the daunting stack of papers next to you. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to plan out a story. It’s so much harder to actually write everything down, I don’t know if I can do it,” you admitted, tears springing to your eyes as you finally felt the overwhelming weight of your work.

“Hey, hey,” Azriel soothed, lifting you so that your back laid against his chest as his muscular arms wound around your waist. “You don’t need to do this if it doesn’t bring you joy, my love. I love you and your stories, no matter how you decide to express your creativity.”

Laying back against his chest, you leaned up to press a lingering kiss on Azriel’s cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered. “I do want to write. I feel so inspired, I just don’t know how to articulate it on paper, if that makes sense.”

Azriel hummed, his hands idly playing with yours as he thought. “What are you inspired by, love? What is driving your story?” You blushed, dipping your chin slightly as you curled further into your mate.

“My main character - he inspires me,” you admitted. “He is kind, thoughtful, willing to do anything for those he loves,” you paused, leaning your head against Azriel’s neck as you reached up to run a hand through his hair. “He’s devilishly handsome - with hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair. He makes everyone in his life feel special, but he is the most special person I have ever met,” you spoke, barely above a whisper as you pressed a kiss to his throat.

Waves of onyx hair brushed your cheek as Azriel’s head dipped, working slow kisses down the side of your face and neck before he settled on your shoulder, humming against the skin. “Why would you want to write about such a person?” he murmured, voice a low rumble as his hands slid down your body, fingertips skating lightly over your thighs, up to the waistband of your pants.

Breaths turning shallow, your mind reeled as you focused on the question. “Because... You make me feel a joy that I want others to see. You give me hope that I want others to have. You give me love that I want others to know is possible.”

Azriel’s hands continued teasing, feather-light touches across your stomach, dipping below the band of your pants as you bit back a moan. “Maybe, if I refresh that feeling, would you be able to ‘articulate’ it in writing?”

A knowing grin spread across your face, eyes glinting with mischief as you looked up at your mate. “I suppose that might help,” you teased, nipping at the skin of his jaw.

Azriel wasted no time, his deft fingers sliding under the waistband of your clothes, a low growl vibrating through his chest as he felt how wet you were. One finger slid, tortuously slowly, through your folds, gathering your slick as he lightly brushed your clit.

Head thrown back against his shoulder, you ground your hips up against his hand, desperate for friction. “Az, please,” you begged, already breathless and craving his touch. A soft laugh left his lips as cool wisps of shadow twined through the fabric of your pants, pulling them down to expose your lower body to the open air of the room.

A soft mewl escaped you as the soft tendrils wound their way back up your legs, spreading them open for their master as he continued his slow, intentional movements against your core. “How do you want me, love?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his tone.

“Your hands, your tongue, please. All of you, Azriel. I need all of you,” you begged, fighting against his hold as your need overwhelmed your other senses. Without another word, Azriel lifted you from his chest, laying your head against the pillows as he shifted to lay between your legs.

“Don’t think, just feel, my love,” Azriel murmured, his warm breath fanning over your clit before licking a stripe up your center. You gasped, back arching as your mate pinned your hips down, spreading your legs open for access. Lips wrapped around your clit, sucking in rhythm with the finger that curled teasingly at your entrance.

Head tossing back and forth against the sheets, you babbled incoherent pleas for more, a pleasurable gasp leaving you as he pushed his finger in, curling in tandem with his alternating sucks and kitten licks on your clit. He added another finger, the coil inside of you building as you neared the edge.

Azriel hummed his praise against your writhing body, bringing your attention to the male before you. Your mate, who knew you better than anyone, made you feel like no one ever could from the day you met. As the coil inside of you snapped, you were taken back to your first time with Azriel - the euphoria of finding the only person meant for you, and joining with him as one.

You came down from your high to see Azriel looking at you with an awed expression, his hand moving to wipe tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to his palm, guiding Azriel to lay on his back as you straddled his hips.

“I will always have inspiration, because I have known you,” you whispered, lowering yourself onto his length. The both of you sat there for a moment, basking in the tenderness of being one, when the idea struck.

“Sorry, sorry,” you mumbled, scrambling to reach for the parchment and pen on your bedside table, scribbling down your thoughts before they could be forgotten.

“What are you doing?” Azriel breathed out on a laugh, watching as you bit your lip, sheer focus and determination on your face while you wrote.

“I know the next part of my story,” you responded, a proud smile on your features as you set the paper aside. “Now where were we?”

Azriel laughed, a full, rich sound as he flipped you onto your back, lining up at your entrance as he pressed kisses all over your face. “You were meant to be a writer,” he teased, amusement clear in his gaze as he eased into you. Pure love and admiration flowed each way down the bond - the beginning of one of many long nights finding joy and inspiration in each others’ presence.

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tblsomedoodles · 1 year

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Why the twins abandoned Draxum

Ok, i promised more Imaginary Friend content, and i am here to deliver!

this is a little more of the plot side of things rather than the shenanigans.

i'll put it under the cut since it's long. again.

Ok, so they sneak out to meet with Mikey and Raph for about three years before Draxum realizes what's going on. (or part of what's going on. He knows they have been sneaking out and the caretaker hasn't been doing his job properly, but he doesn't know they were sneakign out to meet, or even who they were meeting.)

Upon finding this out, the caretaker is fired and Draxum decides that, if they are competent enough to constantly leave the house on their own and come back fine, they are competent enough to be properly trained. This means they no longer have the opportunity to sneak out.

Mikey and Raph try to reach out to them via mind meld, but it's too far for a strong enough connection to communicate, not to mention the twins keep purposefully shutting them out. the twins figure that since they can no longer meet up with them, that It's better to cut themselves off completely now than continuing to long for a time, they believe, is gone.

It's two more years before they meet again, and it's on accident.

When Mayhem stole the emperium, Draxum sent the twins to fetch it, treating it as a test.

They're sent out to fetch the emperium, and, of course, run into Mikey and Raph (and April). It's very much a surprise, especially considering they're standing between them and their mission. They're careful not to hurt their siblings but do get Mayhem away Donnie sending Mikey a quick "do not follow us. it's dangerous" mind meld message before they nope on out through Leo's portal. a portal that both April and the soon-to-be imitation crab man go through before it closes.

They appear right in the middle of the lab so neither of the twins quite realize they have stowaways until it's too late. They recognize April as one of Mikey and Raph's friends and figure it's not a good idea for Draxum to realize she's there, so they hide her in a nearby closet before Draxum can notice, miming for her to stay quiet. once Draxum leaves again, Leo portals her back out of the building (he's aiming for topside but ends up just setting her down on their front porch for Mikey and Raph to find.)

Anyways! Mikey and Raph (and April) show up like canon, and, of course Draxum is seeing stars. It's the other two. He could have a full set once again! but they prove to be difficult to coerce into joining him, so he creates that vine monster to fight them (and test them while they're at it.) He sends Leo and Donnie after them as well, but they linger, choosing halfheartedly fight April rather than their brothers. That is, until Mikey ends up weaponless and the target of an attack that could hurt him.

Then the above happens. Donnie instinctively protects Mikey, which angers Draxum, which causes Leo to portal Donnie behind him so he's away from him, and, then they defect, choosing to get their brothers, April, and Mayhem out of the soon-to-explode lab rather than continue fighting.

but yeah, that's how they get away from Draxum. The power of little brother in peril lol.

(fun fact i'm just coming up with now (but have been thinking about) Draxum was super extra dramatic when he named the twins originally. He named them Thanatos and Somnus. though neither of them really acknowledge those names b/c they so rarely heard them growing up. Literally only Draxum used them. which is why when Mikey asked thier names, they just shrugged. Why is that Draxum beign extra, b/c those are the twin personifications of death and sleep respectively (though Somnus is technically the Roman name. but since Somnus's Greek name is Hypnos, i thought it would be too confusing.) also, according to Greek Mythology, Thanatos and Hypnos are the twin sons of Nyx (goddess of night) and Erebus (god of the dark). SO yes, Draxum was being dramatic AF and named a set of twins he was going to train to be ninja warriors, after the mythological twins born to night and darkness. and who also embody death and sleep. (this also gives me a good excuse to jokingly call the twins the Myth Twins, even though the aus staying named Mikey's imaginary Friends. lol))

#tmnt #rottmnt #my doodles #mikey's imaginary friends #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #this was supposed to be one page #it turned into three #this is my friday update #which i didn't finish in time b/c i was getting used to the tablet #i love it but there's a small learning curve #and i'm getting used to it

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cryptid-ghoulette · 11 days

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Trouble Maker

More Phantom brain rot? (its more likely that you'd think, especially when @sister-nyx is involved)

Heres some fluffy phantom being a nuisance. WC 680 Implied spice at the end, but no real warnings, its fluffy as heck.

It wasn't uncommon for quint ghouls to have health issues; something about the way they're created can lead to omplications with their new vessels. In the pit, they don't have a physical form, and it's hard for their new bodies to contain the powerful magic they possess. Most of the time, it's little things like eyesight or hearing issues, but sometimes it can be more serious, like missing or malformed limbs.

When Phantom was summoned alongside multi-ghoul Aurora, all seemed to be going as planned. Sure, there were a few teething issues, but nothing they wouldn't adjust to with time. After all, it must be strange suddenly having a physical form (so many moving parts!). He settled well into the pack, the others all loving him and his childlike wonder, even if they had to answer what felt like a million questions a day.

Not long into the first tour though, the pack noticed he seemed to be having trouble with his hearing. It was just small things at first, like when they were all gathered backstage. Copia often had to repeat himself several times before getting a reply, with Mountain having to gently nudge his shoulder to get his attention.

It all came to a boiling point one night when they were all gathered in the kitchen after a particularly stressful rehearsal, each slumped on various chairs and benches. Dew was trying to get Phantom's attention, who was staring off into space, completely oblivious to Dew (and seemingly everyone else). Finally, he turned when Dew shouted his name, the anger in his words catching him off guard. Dew pulled him into the hall, Phantom confused about what he'd done to anger the fire ghoul so much.

"Did I do something wrong, Dew?" Dew sighed, considering his words, trying to make them come out without too much venom. "Listen, bug, I think we all just need to have a chat about what's going on with you lately. You seem even more of a space cadet than usual." He gave a half-hearted chuckle at the end, trying to lighten the mood seeing the rising concern on Phantom's face. He wrapped one arm around the little quint. "It's okay, let's go and talk to the others; we're all just. worried about you," guiding them back into the kitchen.

The pack all agreed that these incidents were becoming more frequent, and they were getting increasingly concerned (and their patience was admittedly wearing thin), so they figured they'd best take him to get checked, worried he might have some kind of hearing issue, or something else they weren't even aware of. Phantom didn't really understand what the issue was, but he agreed to go see Aether if it made the others feel better.

After waiting in the hall for what felt like forever, Aether emerged from the infirmary, the small ghoul beside him, and a smug grin on his face. "I've got good news and bad news," he said rather matter-of-factly. "The good news is he doesn't appear to have any hearing loss; in fact, he has above-average hearing for a ghoul of his element."

"So, then what's the bad news?" Mountain softly inquired, concern growing in his voice. The others began whispering between themselves, hushed tones, clearly also visibly confused.

“Well, the bad news is, it would appear that without any medical cause for his hearing troubles, our newest quintessence ghoul is just being mischievous," Aether chuckled, tousling the small ghoul's hair and gently nudging him back to his pack. "That part, you'll have to figure out on your own. There's no medicine for that as far as I'm aware."

The ghouls all turned to look at Phantom, a deep blush spreading across his face, staring at the ground and silently wishing it would swallow him whole. However, his shame spiral was interrupted when Mountain stepped forward and swiftly picked him up, tossing him effortlessly over one shoulder, simply saying, "I can think of a few ways to fix that." The others erupted into laughter, the smaller ghoul happily kicking his legs behind him as they disappeared down the hallway toward the bedroom.

#phantom is a little shit #and im obsessed #so strap in cause theres going to be more #the band ghost #ghost bc #phantom ghoul #shitghosting #cryptidrambling #my fics

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pink-onyx-au · 8 months

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[Jump to the Episode Master List]

Nap time! Thank you everyone for your continued support and interaction! I adore it and it adds so much more to the AU than you could know. This is a heads up on some minor down-time for the blog while I rest up and prepare the next episode.

Notes and asks are still open and encouraged during this time! Bored and want to chat? Send me a message!

To see some WIP, storyboard previews, doodles, shitposts, and other projects I’m working on, along with a healthy amount of 3am memes, head over to my trash fire blog, Ceephor’s Shit Show. The "pink onyx au" tag will filter everything for you, along with showing you fabulous fan art made by others that I just love to pieces.

Speculation and theories are encouraged! The comic is designed as close to the show’s logic as I could muster, which means many secrets are staring right at you, provided you know what to look for! Just be kind to one another.

Comic FAQ:

What is this? Pink Onyx AU is a Steven Universe AU focused on interactions between Steven and Jasper and is intended to be read after you have finished Steven Universe Future, as it contains many many spoilers for the series. If you have watched it already, great! Welcome! The goal is to bring you a Jasper redemption arc that we couldn’t get due to time and cooperate restraints on the Crewniverse. I hope you enjoy!

I do not own these characters or their likenesses except for the single fluffy thembo fusion I created for the story. This is just a fan comic.

Comic is PG-13 for some angsty themes, minor blood, violence, and gem-cussing.

When do you post? Typically when you see this post pinned, I’m on a bit of a break, but when Nyx wakes up (this post goes away) the comic is due to be released 1 page at a time at 7am EST most days. I try for a daily release. Sometimes I skip a day if I’m behind. Episode release dates are always announced ahead of time by a few weeks.

Is this a romantic ship AU between Jasper and Steven? Nope, more like an aunt and her nephew trying to figure it all out. No romance between these two here.

Is your Tapas updated at the same time? Nope, tumblr comes first, and the tumblr will always have bonus content which Tapas will not. The Tapas for this updates after the tumblr version is completed. Usually same day or within a day.

Curious about the characters? Check below the cut for more a detailed FAQ about the inner workings of the story. Love you all! See you soon! 🧡💕❤️

FAQ’s about the characters generated via interactive asks:

What kind of fusion is Pink Onyx? Are they good or bad? Pink Onyx is a fusion of a protagonist and an antagonist, so their alliance is yet unknown, but they have Steven’s good heart and Jasper’s loyal nature. They also have Steven and Jasper’s flaws, so they can be volatile and emotionally explosive at times, too.

What are Pink Onyx’s pronouns? Onyx likes they/them, but also answers to he/him and she/her, especially when Steven or Jasper is dominant over one another. They also seem to take on a fluid role and prefer a she/her when in a caretaker status. They dislike it/its.

What does Pink Onyx sound like? Personally, I hear them as a youthful, masculine tone. Like Steven if a little older. But I also enjoy when people say they hear them as a gruff, Amazonian-type feminine. I enjoy and endorse both.

Do Jasper and Steven enjoy being fused to one another? For now, it is a struggle, but they enjoy what the other brings to the fusion even if they won’t say it.

Does Pink Onyx need to eat and do human things? If so, do they enjoy it? They don’t need to do them, but they do feel the discomfort without them. Things like breathing, eating, and sleeping are optional for Onyx, but they will become quite irritable if not allowed to do them. They greatly enjoy sleeping and trying new foods.

What does Jasper think about having human organs when fused? She’s pretty grossed out by the idea of organic matter going into her mouth and coming out of other places. The heart beating and lungs breathing she can feel for the first time, and it is highly strange for her to experience.

What is Pink Onyx’s favorite food? They adore anything watermelon flavored and Cookie-cat ice cream products

Does Pink Onyx have any special fusion powers? They do, and as they learn about themselves, more powers seem to come out. Each of their base component appears to be enhanced in a unique way. They have Pink Diamond at their core, so the destructive potential is also there.

Why is Steven hiding Pink Onyx from others? This AU occurs directly after the events of "I Am My Monster", so Steven is very emotionally, and mentally, raw. He fears judgement for running back to Jasper, who in the past, was part of so much trauma he already endured.

Pink Onyx seems to know nothing about human culture and gem culture despite being a fusion. What’s going on? Jasper and Steven agreed to fuse, but they have yet to open up to one another about much else. The fusion exists because they agree to do so, but Jasper won’t open up about her emotions, and Steven is so sensitive yet that he is not sharing because he knows Jasper won’t want to hear it. This causes Onyx to be unable to access both of their memories easily, but they can bring it out with enough effort.

#pink onyx au #steven universe au #steven universe #steven universe future #c423art #ceephorart #pink onyx #fusion #jasper #steven #Nyx nap #faq

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offtorivendell · 3 months

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No but imagine, Elain - who we know goes to the Palace of Bone and Salt (ACOSF, chapter 17) - accidentally bought black salt. The first time.

Or maybe the House of Wind gave it to her when she was visiting and needed salt one time, it doesn't matter.

But after that, she learnt (as @wingedblooms has theorised) how to commune with a certain, princely feline whom I suspect may be hanging around the House of Wind library. So of course she keeps a small pot of it by the kettle, because nobody besides her (and Nuala and Cerridwen, but they know what it is) use the kitchen, so she can throw it in her tea as required for a little "trip."

Enter Cassian:

"Elain, what are you cooking there? It smells delicious." An exaggerated sniff followed his remark.

"Cat food," Elain replied dreamily.

"When did you get a cat?" Elain often appeared to be off in her own world, so Cassian wouldn't put it past her to get a cat and not mention it.

"Oh, I didn't," Elain replied, as she walked out into the sunny terrace garden, herb basket on her hip.

Cassian: 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

Or:

Elain had invited Nesta and Cassian over to the townhouse for dinner one night, when Feyre and Rhys were off on official court duty (ie. a family getaway to the cabin, to introduce Nyx to the wonders of snow). Cassian bullied Azriel into tagging along, and because Rhys wouldn't be there, he agreed.

Elain was making a hearty beef stew, with a side of freshly baked bread; the perfect meal for a chilly winter's eve. It had been simmering over the fire long before dusk had threatened to consume the sky, and she had finished seasoning it - even adding a little extra pepper, just for Cassian - moments before Nesta had knocked upon the roof-top door.

It smelt delicious, she couldn't wait to tuck in.

Thirty minutes later, they were sitting down to eat. Cassian shoveled some bread in his mouth as Nesta buttered her roll. Azriel had taken a polite mouthful of stew just as Elain - hungry after a long day in her potting shed and cooking - took a heaped spoon that would have made their mother faint from shock.

The stew was overly salted. Badly. How on earth?

Elain swallowed her mouthful and said, "I'm so sorry, something has happened to the stew. It appears I've put too much salt in it. Hang on and I'll heat up something from the ice box." She started to stand.

Azriel was wearing a funny expression... How mortifying. For him, of all people—her head started to spin with the shame of it.

Averting her eyes, Elain noticed that Cassian was looking incredibly guilty. Her focus narrowed over the roar threatening to consume her, and she was no longer sure it was entirely due to the people pleasing habit that had been forced upon her from childhood.

"What did you do?" Calm, stay calm.

"I, ahh, added some of that finely ground pepper you've got. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."

"That wasn't pepper." Darkness was creeping into the edges of her vision, her fear all but confirmed, as she warned, "Do not eat the stew, I'll be back in an hour at the most." Azriel had already slumped back into his chair, eyes closed. Oh gods, how would she explain this to him?

Elain closed her eyes and let the darkness take her, opening them to Azriel, dagger at the ready, facing down a fluffy white cat, fur and whiskers abristle, blue eyes wide. If she wasn't so mortified she'd have laughed at the absurd picture they made. Oh well, no time like the present.

"Azriel," she said, standing up tall. "Meet Aidas, the Prince of the Chasm."

This post was brought to you by the ramblings of @cassianfanclub, @psychologynerd and myself. I still haven't finished HOFAS lol - I'm on chapter 75 🐢 - so I could be way off, but this is really just for laughs.

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thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

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Caged In (part 2)

Part 1

Day 2: Style

Summary: Lucien has some really amazing fashion sense, and his newly made friend is very interested in his wardrobe.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: because many of you were asking about a part 2, it gave me the idea to do the whole week in this series. I'll try my best to make a part for everyday now ❣️ this is not much, but I'm trying and simply having some fun 😉

Also, I don't think the fic really fits much into the prompt, but it's alright. Right? Anyways, I decided I wanted to see him in clothes that are not green or red, so...

So here is my second contribution to @lucienweekofficial 🫶

(I don't really like this, but anyways. I wrote this in 1‐2 hours, what am I even expecting. Maybe I'll like tomorrow's more?)

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched intently as Lucien and Jurian bickered over who would cut the wood for the fire and who would go into the market to get the items necessary for the night's dinner.

They had been at it for quite some time, and because she was bored, she had gotten herself a cup of tea and settled down to watch the two of them.

It had been one month since that night, since Lucien had helped her flee the night court, and she was surprised no one from the inner circle had arrived to search for her. Sure, she had received countless letters and notes from Rhys and Cassian, demanding to know where she was and that she return home.

She wouldn't do that anytime soon.

She had only left a note that said, I'm tired of your overprotective tendencies before she left.

Cassian had always been overprotective over her, since the moment he found her hiding in her mother's skirts and staring at him and the other males of the camp, just before they had pulled her mother away and slaughtered her.

After Cassian had been born, the males of the camp had taken him from his mother, ready to kill her. But before they could, she had sneaked away and ran. After days of running, she ran into a fae man, who gaslit her into believing they were in love and raped her, hence making her pregnant with Y/n.

Because Y/n's father was not an Illyrian, Y/n was only half Illyrian, and that meant she could make her wings vanish, just like Rhys.

After Nyx's birth, she and Cassian had visited an Illyrian camp due to some unrest having arisen. The men there were too pissed that a female was trying to command them, one of them even daring to get into her space and rant about how he would do unimaginable things to her and she would soon die.

And Cassian had taken him a little too seriously, confining Y/n to the river house hoping that she'll be safe.

But in the process, he had caged her in.

The sound of Jurian's cheers brought Y/n out of her thoughts, and she looked up from her cup of tea.

Jurian grinned as he flounced up to Y/n, ruffling her hair on the way in. She swatted him away and he chuckled.

"So? He's going to the market?"

Lucien grumbled out an affirmation, starting to walk away towards the forest nearby. Y/n contemplated staying or following Lucien. If she stayed, she'd die of boredom untill Vassa arrived. If she followed, she could get some entertainment by irritating Lucien.

Making her decision, she shoved her empty cup into Jurian's chest, who was on his way out. She kissed his cheek in apology, sprinting to catch up to Lucien.

"Hello again."

"Why are you following me–"

"The weather seems really good today, don't you think?"

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing before he sighed. "I don't know."

She grinned, bumping his shoulder with her own. Or atleast she tried to, her shoulder barely reaching his.

He shook his head, entering the clearing where he would chop the firewood in. She trotted to a nearby tree with huge roots where she took a seat, watching him.

He was wearing one of his beautifully made tunics today, the first three buttons undone. It was black colored, an unusual color to see him in. But it suited him nonetheless, maybe even more than his normal colours.

His breeches were light grey, bordering on white. They hugged his legs perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination. The powerful muscles in his thighs rippled lightly as he stalked around the clearing, gathering wood to chop.

She simply watched him, taking note of the elegance and grace in his every step and movement.

Soon he had gathered the amount of wood he deemed fit, and he got ready to begin chopping them up into smaller bits. He pulled out a strip of leather from his pocket, and pulled his long hair back, tying it off in a neat knot at the base of his neck. He then proceeded to fold his sleeves up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms flexing, the rings on his fingers glinting in the dying rays of the sun.

Y/n's mouth dried.

But she wasn't one to blame when a male like Lucien was doing things like that in front of her.

He lifted the axe, bending a little to chop into the wood. The necklaces he wore dangled in front of his chest, making him look all the more... delicious.

Delicious?!? What the hell?

She watched him, all the muscles in his body rippling. She wanted to go up to him, and pull his–

No. She didn't want anything. She couldn't want anything.

A small smirk formed on his lips, and Y/n knew she had been caught.

"You know, it's a little rude to stare, my lady."

She swallowed, trying to get her tongue off the roof of her mouth as he lifted the small axe, bringing it down on the wood again. There was something she had been wanting to ask him.

"You know, I was wondering if I could see your wardrobe."

He paused, axe suspended in the air as he half turned to her.

"What?"

"I said–"

"I heard what you said. My lady."

She flushed. "Oh."

After a few moments, he spoke again. "Why do you want to see my clothes?"

"Um... I wanted to... see if there was something I wanted to steal from your clothes."

He blinked. "Why... why would you want to do that?"

"Because I think you have really amazing clothes and... you have a good style."

He smirked. "Is that so?"

She groaned, throwing her hair back.

"Are you going to let me have a shirt of yours or not?"

"Why do you want one?" He asked, turning his focus back to chopping the wood.

"Because I want to wear something good for tonight because Vassa is taking me to dinner tonight."

Lucien's brows Rose, but he didn't stop. "And why is she taking you out?"

"Because the both of us are tired of you males and we both deserve a day off. You can babysit Jurian for one night, can you not?"

Lucien laughed, the sound sending the butterflies in Y/n's stomach into a panic.

"And you don't have a tunic you can wear outside?"

"I don't like mine. They are very simple, and Vassa will kill me if I wore something like that."

Lucien sighed. "I guess you will not leave me alone unless I let you have my shirts?"

"You might be right."

"Well then, you can take a look, when we get back."

Y/n squealed. "Thank you Lucien!"

He smiled.

And so began Y/n's harmless little crush on Lucien.

Little did she know it was not, in fact, just a harmless little crush.

•○🌑○•

Part 3

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @lizziesfirstwife

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Note

Oooo okay I love the idea of Tamlin's daughter and like Nessian's daughter or even like Eris or Lucian's daughter?

The Romeo and Juliet vibes ✨️

stolen moments and chance meetings.

Eris’s daughter x Reader (Nessian's daughter)

Summary: You and Eris’s daughter run into each other.

Warnings: none

A/N: i love this idea so much (part two) (part three)

Wandering was bad. You knew that, well aware it was a beacon for danger, but when you spotted the quaint little clearing, you couldn’t help yourself. Technically it was spring court territory, but with a quick sweep of the perimeter, there wasn’t anyone in sight for miles. Just over the border, easy enough to make a quick escape. Worth the risk.

It would be a nice way to cool off, you’d been flying for hours, and despite the wind sweat was dripping down your spine, off your temples. A “conditioning flight.” You had a love-hate relationship with them.

Landing softly on the moss, you sighed and rolled your shoulders back, heading right for the pond - a beautiful clear blue. Heading right for it, you cupped the liquid between your hands, splashing your face, letting the water cool your burning skin, and nearly moaned at the sensation.

A few gulps later, and you were feeling much better, and sat back on your heels.

“Someone’s not where they’re supposed to be.”

Fuck. You recognized that voice. How had she snuck up on you? Unfortunately or fortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I could say the same to you,” you countered, standing and turning slowly to face her. Cora Vanserra grinned at you, leaning back against a tree, arms crossed over her chest, red hair glinting in the sun. Beautiful and arrogant in equal measures, but it’s something you liked about her. There was something a little untrustworthy about someone too humble, in your opinion.

“What’s your excuse?” She asked. You pointed at the pond, giving her a look that said; are you that stupid? Her eyes rolled.

“And yours?”

“I was close to the border anyway, when I saw you.”

You’re her excuse. “Miss me that much, Cora?” you let her name drag out, testing it on your tongue. How many times had you actually said it? You saw each other two months ago, at another ball in Hewn City, and stole a few wonderful moments together in the bathroom. Of course there were the letters … but you hadn’t been able to risk many of those, even coded. Not since Nyx snooped and saw you had a secret lover. On threat of a slow and painful removal of his favorite part, he kept it to himself.

She crossed the clearing, in front of you in moments, hands gripping your hips as she tugged you close. Your wings tucked in tight as you took in her gaze, amber eyes digging right into you - as if they could see through every layer.

Her thumbs brushed back and forth over your stomach, heat burning through your clothes. You fought the urge to look down and see if you actually were on fire. Instead, you reached up and brushed your knuckles across her cheek, delighting in how she leaned into you, before lazily winding your arms around her shoulders.

Where are you? A voice thundered through your mind. Nyx. Shit, you were supposed to meet him. Supposed to be done with your flight by now.

Took a break, you answered, focused on shielding your current location.

Where? He sounded exasperated, I’ll come get you.

That’s the last thing you need, for him to smell her scent in here. You needed the wind to brush it off of your own anyway.

No need, I’m on my way now.

“Who was it this time?” She sighed, seeing the glazed over look in your eyes.

“Nyx. He’s about to come get me.”

“Leashed like a dog,” she murmured.

“And you’re much better?”

Her shoulders rose and fell. “When will I see you again?” she deflected.

This little clearing was rather nice. And spring was relatively neutral territory.

“Meet me here in a week. Sunrise.”

Her head tilted. Calculating. “So clandestine.”

“Do we have any other choice?” Your teeth tugged on your bottom lip, her hands squeezing around your waist.

“And if I don’t show?”

Mother above, you always forget how much she loves her little games.

Cupping her face with both hands, you leaned forward, pausing a hair's breadth away. Her eyes widened, breath catching, and you grazed your lips over hers. A mockery of a kiss, but it did the job - her heart rate rose, breaths coming faster. Stepping back and shrugging off her grip, you rolled your shoulders back.

“A little motivation for you,” you said - barely above the wind. Flaring your wings once, twice, three times, you shot off into the sky. Leaving a still, and contemplative Vanserra behind.

Stolen moments, that’s all the two of you were destined for, and never enough of them.

The wind slowly stripped you of her scent, of nutmeg and the first day of autumn, as you tried your best to commit it to memory.

Where. Are. You.

Nyx was worse than your parents with the fussing. This time, you shared a view of your surroundings, just as you crossed past the border of Spring.

Where the fuck have you been?

You ignored him. There was still a flight home to think of a good excuse. That’s if he didn’t decide to come grab you mid-flight. It wouldn’t be the first time.

#reader x eris's daughter #eris's daughter x reader #next gen acotar #acotar next gen #acotar drabble #nessian daughter reader #nessian daughter #eris's daughter #eris's daughter x y/n #acotar imagine #idk how to tag this one

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danikamariewrites · 4 months

Text

❈ ❈ Holiday Traditions ❈ ❈

A/n: I'm so happy I got to participate in the @acotargiftexchange this year! I had so much fun coming up with what Nesta and Cassian do to prepare hosting their first christams for @moodymelanist . I also saw it’s her birthday today! So show her some love and check out her fics they are amazing🤗

I hope you like it❤️ happy birthday Merry Christmas love!

warnings: none, just pure Christmas cheer 🥰

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

Nesta plopped the last box of ornaments on the coffee table with an accomplished sigh. She had successfully brought down all of the boxes by herself from the attic. Cassian was going to help but she grew impatient waiting for him to come home from shopping. It was the last thing they had to do and Nesta was too excited to wait. So she chugged her morning coffee and braved the attic ladder for the spirit of Christmas.

This was Nyx’s first Christams so everything had to be perfect for her little nephew. Looking around the living room Nesta smiled to herself. The mantle–which currently housed a roaring fire– was beautifully decorated with fir branches, colorful winter candyland baubles, twinkling lights, and two large bows at either end. Their usual soft throw pillows on the couches have been changed out for candy cane pillows and blankets with snowflakes and snowmen.

The only thing left to decorate was the tree. Nesta started opening all the plastic boxes when the front door opened, Cassian’s cheery voice ringing through their warm home. When he appeared in the living room bags of different sizes decorated his arms, a large grin on his face. “Hey baby, I thought I was going to help you with those?” Nesta returned his smile unwrapping the book stack ornament Cassian got her last year. “I could’t wait. Did you get the stuff for our mega gingerbread house?”

Cassian chuckled and held up a bag from their favorite bakery. “Oh yeah. Let me put this stuff away and we’ll decorate.” Nesta smiled at his retreating back. She couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world. As a child her and her sisters never had a good holiday experience thanks to their parents. Their mother’s focus was throwing the best parties for Christmas and New Years. Always neglecting to get the girls presents or doing any holiday activities with them.

When Feyre and Rhysand found each other that’s when the new holiday traditions started. The first time they all spent Christmas together Nesta was drawn to Cassian and the love he had for the holiday. He made sure she and Elain felt welcome, the brothers even made sure they had a few gifts to open. Ever since that day Cassian and Nesta were inseperable.

Cassian laid out the gingerbread pieces on the island along with the icing and candy toppings. He swiped two candy canes for him and Nes before sorting gifts that could be wrapped today and ones that he’d wrap tonight when Nesta was fast asleep. Gathering the gifts, wrapping paper, tape, and scissors he headed back to the living room.

Nesta was half done unwrapping the ornaments, humming along to the Christmas playlist lightly playing from the speaker. Cassian never knew why she insisted on throwing Justin Bieber’s Christmas album into the mix of songs but he went with it. He would never tell Nesta that he enjoyed it. Cassian would never hear the end of it from her or his brothers. Dumping the gift supplies on the couch Cassian started picking up ornaments, choosing which ones he wanted to hang on the tree first.

As the hours passed Cassian and Nesta were giggling as they reminisced about the joke ornaments they had bought each other over the years. Cassian found a Santa hat in one of the decoration boxes and decided it was his, even though Nesta fought him for it. Her consolation prize was silver tinsel Cassian wrapped around her like a scarf.

Once the tree was done, Cassian and Nesta stood back wrapped in each other’s arms. Cassian kissed her tinsel covered head and looked down at his girlfriend with deep adoration. She looks so beautiful with the colorful Christmas lights reflecting in her blue-gray eyes. Images of their future together ran through his mind. A few more holidays by themselves and one day, maybe, a set of twin girls with his hair and her features running around. They’re in matching Christmas PJ’s trying to sneak a peak at the gifts they spent hours wrapping after bedtime before being caught by mom and dad.

Breaking him from his thoughts Nesta bumped her hip against his. “Alright you,” she said cooly, “Lets get to wrapping.”

Getting settled on the floor Cassian started rolling out wrapping paper. Nesta turned on the TV immediately changing the channel. When Nesta saw Rudolph was on she let out a happy hum, watching with a childlike wonder Cassian rarely saw from her. They noticed most of the gifts are for Nyx. Yeah he’s only a few months old, but Cassian and Nesta wanted his first Christmas to be special. Since they were hosting, the pair wanted their nephew to be the center of attention.

Moving to the kitchen Cassian put the kettle on for hot cocoa as Nesta took a seat at the island and began unwrapping the toppings, throwing a few gumdrops in her mouth. “Hey,” she said to get Cassian’s attention. He turned to see Nesta cocking her arm back, gumdrop between her fingers, nodding at him with a determined smile. Cassian smirks, opening his mouth wide, leaning his head back a little. Nesta launches it in a short arch landing right on Cassian’s tongue. They both raise their arms in victory letting out a twin ‘woo’.

Mega gingerbread house had to look perfect this year since it would be the center piece of the mantel. So this year they actually tried to not make it a disaster that would collapse just so they could eat it. Once it was a sugary monstrosity Nyx was sure to grab at, the pair carefully transported mega gingerbread house to its pedestal. It was quite impressive. The house looked like it belonged on a mountain top, Nesta guessed it kind of was thanks to where it was placed.

Looking at his watch Cassian grimaced, noting it was much later than he thought.

Getting settled in bed Cass watched his show on his iPad while Nesta read Christmas book seven of the twelve he got her. She hated being behind on her twelve days of Christmas reads. This one was about a long distance couple finally meeting for a magically holiday in the city.

An hour passed before Cassian heard Nes slightly snoring. He smiled to himself as he softly kisses her forehead, silently slipping out from under the covers. Two years ago Cass caught Nesta snooping through her gift pile during the day so he made the decision to wrap in the middle of the night.

Sorting through the gifts in the living room Cassian couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. This year’s haul for Nesta was perfect if he did say so himself. He even got her special wrapping paper with little books on it.

After an hour of wrapping gifts Cassian crept back upstairs. There was one more thing he had to check on before he went to sleep. Tiptoeing as best he could to the closet he slipped inside. Using the flash light on his phone so he wouldn’t wake Nesta he quietly opened his shirt drawer, digging out the smal black velvet box.

Checking on the ring he knew was tucked away in the perfect hiding spot Cassian grined. Everytime Cass looked at the engagement ring his heart pounded with excitement. It took all of his self restraint to not propose to Nesta everyday. No, he would wait and make this the best Christmas, better than the one they first met. He’ll never forget the surprised face Nesta made when he handed her that first gift. Cassian smiled thinking about the surprise that will grace Nesta’s beautiful face in just two days.

Two more days and they’ll have a life time of happy holidays together.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #cassian acotar #nesta acotar #nesta archeron #nesta archeron acotar #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fanfic #nesta x cassian #nessian fluff #nesta x cassian fluff #acotargiftexchange2023 #acotar secret santa 2023 #modern!nessian

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nightynightghoul · 9 days

Text

Pebble has POTS

How Pebble finds out they have POTS and sort of learn to accept it.

This is just a little something I wanted to share, if it does well I may share other ideas. Thank you to @sister-nyx for encouraging me and giving it a read :)

Warnings: Pebble faints, there's talk about medical tests, not much more.

When Pebble was summoned, the rest of the ghouls thought nothing special of it. Yes, they were smaller than the rest, but their summoning had been hard and not as much energy went into it as it did for the past ghouls. They all had seen ghouls of all sizes during their lives back in hell. Many of the smaller ones being doubly as fierce to compensate for their size. No one thought anything could be wrong with them.

Neither did Pebble. At least not for their first few months topside. They learned what they had to in order to become their new drummer, they were good at it too. Enjoying the feeling of getting lost in the music alongside the rest of their new pack.

Pebble started noticing they weren’t like the rest of the ghouls. Not as strong, not as agile, not as resilient. The first time they felt it was when they were moving instruments around the practice room. They had to clear the floor for the siblings to come in for a deep clean. Ifrit had easily lifted and carried stands, amps, boxes, and instruments. Aether had no trouble helping Zephyr with their Keyboard. Hell, even Dewdrop was helping haul up equipment, and he was smaller than them!

But here they were struggling to catch their breath and feeling their heart in their throat just because they were trying to drag one box across the stage. Emphasis on the word “trying”. By the time Ifrit was done, Pebble was only just getting the damned box to where they were supposed to stack it with the others. The fire ghoul just smiled at them and lifted the box to stack in on the others.

Pebble could not catch their breath and their vision was spotty. But they just ignored it, muttered a thank you and went back to the den.

The second time, was stupid if you asked them. It was a very early and cold morning, they just wanted to have a nice hot shower before breakfast. Yes, they took longer than usual. The water felt great, they had to wash their hair, and maybe they wanted some time for themselves. The problem appeared when they stepped out into the colder air of the bathroom. As they were drying off, they started feeling like they ran a marathon. Heart beating quickly, spotty vision, and they couldn’t catch their breath. Nothing new, but it was getting worse.

A splitting headache started right behind their ears and their vision became tunnelled. Suddenly the effort to just stand was just too much and against their will they crumpled to the floor half conscious, dragging with them several items from the counter that clattered loudly on the floor and on top of them. They spent a few minutes on the floor, floating in that space between. After getting ready, only Aether asked why they took so long. Even years later, they could not tell if they fainted that time or not.

The third time was when they started to get worried. It was a sunny, warm day, fairly humid too. Most of the ghouls were spending their time outside. Even Zephyr felt well enough to go on a little stroll with Dew. They were sat on the grass with Omega and Alpha. Playful chatter, became playful banter which in a few minutes became playfighting. Pebble wrestled Alpha but was quickly pinned under the bigger ghoul.

But Pebble wasn’t laughing any more, the heat, the humidity, the exertion and now Alpha on top of them had their vision swimming. Just like before they felt that headache, the tunneled vision and the breathlessness. But this time it all came so quick, they had no time to tell Alpha that they wanted out. With a pathetic whine they breathed out and then everything became black.

When they next opened their eyes, they were laying on their back. Omega was looking at them alarmed, as if they had grown a second head. Alpha was agitated too, the usually stoic ghoul looked close to tears. Omega insisted on carrying them to the infirmary even as Pebble protested that they were fine and could walk themselves.

While in there, Omega took his sweet time noting their blood pressure and heartbeat. Pebble insisted time and time again that this was normal, that it just had gone a little further than it usually does. Omega made quite a few notes and kept asking more questions. As if every ghoul didn’t feel the same as them. -

Do you have a hard time breathing?

Do you usually struggle to catch your breath after exerting yourself?

Are high temperatures usually a problem?

Do you get dizzy when you sit up? When you stand up?

Pebble quickly became frustrated and ended up leaving the infirmary before Omega could finish his long list of questions or tell them much of anything really.

The quint did ask them to come back for some tests the next day but Pebble in their eternal stubbornness didn’t go. They were fine, and this was normal for all ghouls. Right?

The subject was forgotten with time but right now, this very minute. They kinda wish they had gone for those extra tests with Omega. Maybe there was something wrong with them.

This was their third ritual, the past two had gone very well. Only getting somewhat dizzy with the heat of the stage lights and the effort of playing the drums. They had managed to stand up without fainting by taking deep breaths. But right now, in this damned venue and its non-existent ventilation, Pebble found themselves sweating bullets. Their skin felt clammy and cold, their breath getting quicker, same as their heartbeat.

This was more than the adrenaline from rituals, Pebble was in trouble.

By the last song of the set, their vision was becoming spotty, but they did their best to keep playing. If Dewdrop, Aether and Ifrit could jump around the stage and play at the same time, surely they could keep playing while sat down.

The alarm bells really rang in their head when that last song ended. The crowd was cheering, and they cursed the damn mask for not letting them breathe properly. They had to stand up, go to the front with the others, go to their place for final bows. But just as they stood up, they realised just how bad they had let it become. The headache came in so hard they had to close their eyes and grasp their head. They may have been glamoured, but the loud whine they let out sounded like that of a wounded animal.

They tried to walk down the steps of their stage, but their vision went all black and unlike that time after that hot shower, this time they crumpled to the floor like a wet napkin. Aether looked back at his stage as he saw several people in the crowd pointing behind him.

He saw Pebble, unconscious, sliding down the steps of their stage. He ran to catch the smaller ghoul before they could reach the bottom. Ifrit and Dew turned to look at Aether, confused as to why he would be heading backstage in a rush before final bows. Then rushed to help him as they saw him removing Pebble’s mask.

Papa grumbled his disapproval to Zephyr, but quickly changed his demeanour as Ifrit ran back to him. - Pebble is out cold, Aether is taking them back to the greenroom -. They bowed and quickly headed back.

When he opened the door to the green room, Papa found Pebble laying on the couch, Dewdrop holding their legs high and Aether sat on the floor taking vitals. The quint assured them all that Pebble would be fine, even if they had some nasty bruises from their fall.

When Pebble woke up, they groaned and tried to sit up. But with a gentle hand on their chest, Aether kept them on their back.

Don’t move just yet love. Your heartbeat just went through the roof.

M’fine

No, you’re not. You just passed out on stage, and I need to get Omega on the phone now.

Terzo fumbled with his robe to take his phone out and call the older ghoul. Pacing around the room while waiting for his lover to answer.

Terzo?

Hi Amore, Aether needs to talk to you. Now.

Wait, aren’t you in the middle of a ritual right now?

No, just finished. But Pebble fainted.

What? Ok, let me talk to Aether please.

He handed his phone to the quint. Sitting by Pebble’s head, petting their head and around their horns. Hoping to comfort one of his smallest ghouls.

Aether immediately got to work, narrating all the important details to Omega. All Terzo could glean from what was said was that this was not the first time Pebble had fainted, and that more tests were needed to have an answer as to why they were passing out.

The rest of that leg of the tour went surprisingly well. Pebble didn't faint, although there were a few close calls, but much to Pebble’s annoyance, Aether was on top of them, all the time. Just as they got back to the abbey, Omega practically kidnapped them and got them to the infirmary.

A full week of tests got them their answer. There was something wrong and other ghouls definitely did not feel like this every day of their lives topside. Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Stupid Human thing to have.

They walked back to their room after Omega was done with indications. There was nothing that could be done to get rid of the problem. They would always be smaller, lesser, defective. The feeling of being lesser invaded them. They’re supposed to be a demon straight from hell, strong, fast, agile. Not a runt that has to be watched over all the time.

What made it truly worse was the news they were given before the next leg of the tour. They would be summoning another Earth ghoul, Omega and Terzo had decided touring would be too much on their body. Straight up salt in the wound. No only that, they would be training them in the time remaining.

Their out of control heart rate and quick breaths didn’t help at all when they asked for the decision to be reconsidered. Pebble walked back to their room, to calm down on their own, to mope for weeks and isolate from their pack.

With time, they learn to live with it instead of against it. Accepting their body just as it was, flaws and all. It doesn’t come quick, and they still miss the little time they had with their Papa on stage.

But yes, with time, the bitterness subsides. They still get frustrated sometimes, and some days are impossible. They still faint all over the abbey, but they’re fine at least.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #pebble ghoul #disabled ghouls #I also have very little grasp on older ghouls so sorry about that #Just me projecting my things on the ghouls #they/thems your ghoul

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happyk44 · 7 months

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My take has always been Nyx births them in Tartarus but sends them away to the upper world when they're old enough because she has seen the world below from the night sky and thinks it is beautiful and lovable, compared to the dark monstrous and screaming expanse of Tartarus, a chamber, a prison, a place of torture. She loves her children as much as the night sky, a boundless entity can. She would like them to experience the world the way she sees the mortals do, how other gods and spirits do. Running across cool grass as the sun dips and day fades into midnight blue and wine-dark purple. Laughing around a warm fire. Comfortable and safe from the monsters that lurk.

The eldest two are as boundless as she is, as boundless as their father. They take to mortal form more frequently than their parents but were not truly born of it. She remembers the strange sensation of creating a sunrise. Heat and daybreak rising over the murky ocean. The world was dark in the beginning. Then the sun came, Helios and his silly chariot, and so followed the bright of day to truly illuminate the world. The twins had been born hand in hand so entwined in one another she had not realized right away there were two of them. Even in their choice of differentiation, they were so similar - day and the bright upper sky. Hemera and Aether. Glowing light blue air and soft clouds with the sun shimmering nearby.

Then long after Charon came - the oldest of her personified children. Born with skin and bones and a quiet sullen demeanour. Like Hades who lives above. But Hades is reclusive and seems picky about who joins him. He is followed only by the dead. He is far too busy, nonetheless, to handle a child by his side - establishing his kingdom and building his home from the scraps left behind.

Yes, the Underworld is beautiful, cooler than Tartarus, more comforting to those with flesh, but less so than the upper world. That was created for those who breathe with lungs and have beating hearts, so when Charon is spry enough that he walks and runs and snaps at monsters that encroach upon his space, she guides him up and out into the wake of the night.

Shadows lick at his feet. His ever present father will keep watch when the sunrises and Nyx must set. Erebus agrees with her. Charon seems brighter, better up on top than far down below where only the most reviled of persons are chained and burned. The only screams he hears are from the birds chattering. He was born of night and darkness, so he says good night to his sister and his brother, and greets his mother with a cool good morning. He hunts sleeping animals with his father to guide his way. He prefers to fish from the nearby river, sit in the shallow, slower end of the rushing stream. He speaks aloud, knowing his family listens. He expects little response in return.

After him, Moros arrives. Dark and brooding. Where Charon is sullen and withdrawn, Moros is brash and engaging. He dips away from his older brother to bother nearby towns. He tips the scales, adjusts the poles. The way of the world swells and shifts around him. Knives miss the meat to be butchered and sever fingers. Bows slip free of knots and spill collected materials to the ground. The sickly sob. Children recoil in fear.

He is unbothered. He enjoys their detachment, their worries. As he grows, Charon finds him work with the elderly. It's important, he says, that you understand mortals. It is cruel to befit fear upon them all because you have no empathy. Nyx listens closely, Erebus at her side as their son speaks quiet. His monotone voice echoes across the open air. I have no empathy, but I have lived long enough to know that mortals desire compassion. And I have lived long enough to know that being feared becomes tiring in the end.

Moros adjusts. Still he brings doom, but the old are unworried. They know what is to come. The finality of breath. The stop of their hearts. The ceasing of their brains. They know that they will close their eyes and reawaken with Hades' hand outstretched for theirs. Without terror, they tell him stories of their lives. They spill their secrets as he cleans their laundry and cuts their food. He holds their arms as they take feeble steps around the home they wish to die in.

Sometimes he knows they will not and through him they know they will not, but he promises to carry them back and lay them to rest in the ground they own, the earth they cultivated. He is not capable of empathy. He barely understands sympathy. But compassion is there, in faintest amounts, and it is enough.

Thanatos and Hypnos bear witness to the night skies in the months that follow. It is almost amusing the difference between her boundless children and their fleshed out siblings. Daylight and bright skies versus the boy child who digs graves and the boy who bears doom, the boy who finds the dead as easily as he breathes and the boy who sleeps like a cat. the girl who watches battles with hunger and feasts upon the death the daughter who knows only misery and the boy who can only assign blame. She loves them all the same. She sees how mortals exile those who do not fit, who are dark but not cruel, and does not understand. Perhaps it is because she was not born into the world with a beating heart.

Only glittering stars and a spot for the bright moon.

It is quiet with the twins. Instead of bothering mortals, Hypnos spends most of his time attached to his twin's back, dozing off onto strong shoulders. Thanatos carries him like it is his job. Lifts him off from the ground without a word. He follows Charon into the woods each day. The dead come easy to him. More frequently that he had before, Charon carries bodies home to their new graves.

I can feel them, Thanatos says. When they're gone.

Do you hurt? Charon asks. Mangled bodies are not unfamiliar to them. Torn animals picked apart and rotting are commonplace. The state of their corpses indicate pain though. Charon worries.

But Thanatos simply lowers his sleeping brother to the soft grass below and says, No. It's strange. I don't notice them until they're gone. It’s like a call in my head. They could be near me and I would not notice until their end. He turns to his older brother digging another grave. Their souls. Their ghost. Do you see them?

Sometimes, Charon says. But not usually.

Thanatos is comforted by that. Sometimes is better than never. Hypnos never sees ghosts. But he sees other things in the moments he's awake. When they enter mortal towns, he'll gaze with half-lidded eyes upon the mortals that pass by and murmur into Thanatos' ear about their secrets. Their fears. Their days.

Their dreams.

Within the wisps of sleep, Hypnos descends. He coaxes the tired to rest, coaxes babies to calm, settle the elderly and sick down for their final night. Sometimes Oizys reaches out and so he settles inside the soft world of a mortal mind, slipping through their cloud-like subconscious and drawing out what they hold back.

Processing fears is important to living life, he realizes. In waking moments, he speaks with his brother about nightmares. In sleeping dreams, he slips them along. Most dreams are simple days. He likes to watch from the side, a hidden audience. Even the most mundane is entertaining.

Then Ker comes along soon after. She is sharp-toothed and mean. Violent death and bitter disease. There is nothing mundane with her. Only seeking the vicious and cruel. She feasts on the flesh of the dead, hovering near Thanatos as he counts down the seconds to the last beat of a heart.

But she does not join them at meals. Her bloodied mouth is hidden away. The bits of skin dug under her nails are scrubbed after every meal. She knows her nature is unlike the others. That she is worse. She crowds around battles with a hunger for the flesh that will be slain. She brings plague with a single touch.

Maybe she would feel better if she was not looking at her counterpart in all things dying. Thanatos is calm and unbothered. He does not itch for blood. He does not split at the seams and feast on the dead. He is calm and collected, almost a mimicry of Charon's sturdiness. She is only a girl hungering for anguish and devastation. She cannot end a life with her own hands. But she can encourage it, and so thoroughly she does.

Charon settles beside her. Water spills over their feet. Why do you split?

Feels better, she says. There is so much inside me. I need to be more to let it out. Her reflection in the river flickers in twain. Mortals think that there are more of her than there are. The Keres, they call her. But she is just Ker. She separates into many, sloughing off her other selves like old skin, and encircles the bloodied crowd. Is it bad?

No, Charon says. Just new.

I like myself, she says. But others don't. It's annoying. She grimaces. I wish I could be better.

You are what you are. With his nail, he scrapes away a fried bloodied mark across her cheek. Do not be disappointed that others cannot handle you. The ones who can are the ones who matter. We all like you. Why do you think we don’t?

Their bodies do not sever in two, in fourths, in tens, in thousands. They do not drag corpses back home to devour because the food on the table is barely edible to them. They do not force disease on those trying to recover from painful wounds, encouraging them to fail, to suffer, to die. Mortals do not recoil with a terrified immediacy they do not understand when her siblings walk by. Even Moros has more to him than the doom he spreads.

She does not.

Maybe I don’t like myself, she considers. It’s hard being this way. There is no one else.

Charon’s arm is comfortable around her shoulders. Affection always feels so fleeting. Though she recognizes that she pulls away. It feels foreign to her as it is given. Out of step with who she is. But she does not pull away. Instead she leans into him and feels the water rush around her feet. It is cool and forgiving. She is hot and merciless.

It’s true. We will not understand you or the viciousness in your heart, Charon tells her. But we are not unsettled by you. You are why battles end. Without pain, without struggle, there would be no need to speak for peace. If all deaths were as calm as falling asleep, then people would keep fighting. But blood spilled, mortals hacked apart, watching your friends suffer beside you, delivering the dead in pieces back to their homes - that is what forces peace.

She tilts her head up and considers his words. I didn’t think of that.

Nobody does, he says. But it is true. Without death, fighting would never end. And without violence, peace would never be wrung. Whether by compromise or submission. He splashes her ankles with water. Eat with us, Ker. We miss you at the table.

The twins and Ker grow and venture far and wide. They sit beside battles and watch quietly. They walk through towns and villages. Hypnos murmurs sleepy words about dreams of freedom in the beaten and belittled. Ker manufactures suffering and bloody ends, horrible spouses and egregious people falling down stairs. Thanatos brings calm to the old and sick.

Charon disappears in the days they are gone. Months go by in search. Eventually, they find him, guided by their mother and father. He is beneath the earth, beneath their feet. They fly over raging waters and approach the god who has employed him.

He is working, Hades says. So, no, he cannot go free right now. But you are welcome to stay.

Oizys and Momus are born next. Erebus coddles them more than she does. But he is in every nook and cranny. He sees distress trapped in locked closets, follows bare feet as they run from screams and swords. The two fight with bitter words. When they come of age, Charon returns to the upper world. The family home welcomes him with a familiar coolness and wisping darkness.

He is a sharp-tongued mediator for the fighting twins and forces them apart with calloused hands and snarling eyes. They always silence themselves when he snaps. They become accommodating to their brother who drags fallen bodies out from the trees and buries them in plots around the home. When he appears, Momus holds back his bitter blaming screams and Oizys keeps tight her welling eyes and breaking heart.

It is under him that they learn to shift. It is not perfect. Momus is reviled by god and mortals alike for his sharp-tongue. He complains about poorly chosen words, critiques every appearance, laughs at sloppy form. It is helpful to some - those who wish to change. Who are unbothered by his mocking tone. But people are more emotional than he cares for. There are several lives lost to his cruel words. Like the two before him, he has no capacity for empathy. He is unable to learn sympathy and compassion is out of reach.

Who cares, is his most common phrase, spoken every time his sister asks him to become softer, gentler.

Oizys is still pain, she is still distress. Her heart still breaks easy and she cries more often than most. But she becomes kinder to herself for her limited emotional range. It is not her fault that this is how she must be. It is not her fault that this is what she has been chosen to represent in the world. Her tears do not make her weak.

Pain is necessary, she says as she wraps the broken bone of a sobbing child. It teaches us not to jump from trees, and where to draw the line with others.

She finds broken men with battles still screaming in their minds. Their bodies are automated. Every movement is meant to survive, to carry on, but their minds hold memories that keep them from being alive. She finds broken women, broken mothers, broken children. She finds those who hold back the tears and smile as though nothing is wrong. Those who need to let go and breathe. Those who need to cry. Who need to admit to the pain they are in, the anguish they have witnessed, the distress coming from the things they have experienced.

When the emotions release, when the pain flows, she crafts suggestions from the wisp of shadows. Run. Confront. Kill. Talk. Change.

Live.

I believe we are trapped in our natures, Charon had said in the bright of day as he dug a deep hole and she held a shattered girl's hand.

Her body was bloodied, slowly creeping towards utter cold. Her eyes had been glassy, unfocused. The world slowly slid from her view. Oizys held her hand to take the pain because certain things should never have been experienced. Not in anyone, but especially not in children this young.

But that doesn't mean we cannot change what our nature means, her wise older brother had said. I take the dead. I don't know why. I just always have. But I chose to do different than just steal them away from their homes. There are dead out there that will never be claimed. I will claim them. I do not need to claim that which dies at home or in a lover's arms. I will claim the left behind, the slaughtered hunter, the forgotten traveler, and I will give them a grave to rest.

Momus had scowled back rude words but Oizys held tighter the young girl's hand and listened hard.

You both can be better. You do not have to be perfect. You do not have to be nice. Moros certainly is not. Ker as well. But you can be and do more than you think of yourselves right now. He laid his shovel to rest on the ground and reached for the slackened girl. There was no life left in her. It had bled all over Oizys lap. There is more to the world than your base instincts, little ones. Yelling that others are at fault and crying from the distress of being screamed at isn't all you have to do. Look inwards. Think. He laid the girl to rest in the grave he dug. I believe in you.

Charon speaks these words to all his siblings. When Nemesis arrives in a flurry of wild black hair, she tracks across the plains of Tartarus, even in her pudgy youth, and declares pain of those she discovers in chains. She leaves the wasteland far later than any of her other siblings, both older and younger. She is endlessly embittered by the faults of mortals. Reluctance to leave their home cloaks her.

Find your order, Charon says. He has lived long, seen and met many. Dike could help. She loves justice, as much as you crave punishment.

Dike is a beauty on earth. Like her father, the crowned king of sky, she embodies order and justice. Humanity is as far as her range extends. But Nemesis can work with that. Social norms become her focus. Convention and custom are her loves. Remaining steady in tradition is gripped tight in her hand. She offers suggestions with a ruthlessness that Dike sighs through each time. Some are accepted easily. Many mortals need to be struck down by their own hubris. But others are argued about between the two.

Humanity and what it entails holds closer to Dike's heart than Nemesis'. She is capable of seeing what her father, her mother, and what Nemesis cannot. A mortal who kills to be free from pain defies convention, but does not deserve the ruthless retribution Nemesis would befit upon a mortal who kills for enjoyment.

Nemesis is always befuddled by her love's explanations. The logic is sound, she understands the point. But it never quite clicks the way it should. But she remembers Charon holding her hands and telling her that she is bound to what the world had decreed upon her, as are the others.

Hemera and Aether do not understand why their siblings prefer the dark. Moros cannot perceive how it is cruel to tell people of the vicious way they will one day die, nor does he understand why it is not appropriate to bury them in so much doom they drown themselves to escape. Ker does not comprehend that others do not feel overwhelming rage. How calm for mortals in the rest of death and sleep is unwanted by their siblings befuddles Thanatos and Hypnos. Why people repress their pain is something Oizys will never comprehend. And Momus will never understand why Olympus banished him from their golden floors for his various criticisms.

None of them ever understood why Charon chose to bury strangers either. They followed when he ventured out and helped him carry back bodies he found. Animals too rotten to eat, people no one came for. They watched as he dug holes. As he wrapped them in clean cloth and buried them. They did not understand why. But they understood that he had to, and so he did.

You punish because you must. People fear punishment because they fear our sister. If she can continue on despite the pain that being feared brings her, I know that you can. They will never understand why you choose the retribution you choose. And you will never understand why they beg for something smaller. But you do not have to. You just assess their point of view. He laughed quietly and squeezed her hands. Or ask Dike to explain it to you.

In the years that follow Nemesis's final departure from the family home, Apate and Dolos spring out from the shadows with mischievous grins. They spread lies and tall tales in their youth. They find villages and scam, decrying potions and balms in replace of medicine. Death abounds. So Charon settles them into the dirt and tells them they can do more than harm.

There is no demand to stop being cruel. After all, Nemesis still jumps to ruthless violence in her ideas for retribution. Momus does not know how to be kind with his words. By nature, Oizys is cruel to mortals. Moros still approaches strangers with a bitter grin and watches them cry in grief and terror from their ensuing fates. But cruel is not all they must be.

The twins sidle alongside Ares, who knows Charon well. Apate guides spies into enemy lines. Acting becomes a passion of hers. After all, what are elaborate performances if not deceit of the audience? Dolos sits on friendly territory and pushes whispered suggestions from the shadows. Make it seem like you are retreating, he sighs into a general's ears. Draw them out into the open with a subtle trap. Surround them. Destroy them.

It is more enjoyable to them than scamming the masses, than telling them silly lies with elaborate words that make them believe in things that don't exist. There is a sense of accomplishment when their side wins the battle, wins the war. There is a sense of pride when Ares pats their heads with his heavy warm hand. They do not follow him everywhere. They want more than war. So they dabble in politics, in petty family squabbles. They still sell scams and spread rumors. But often they draw back to Ares' side with mischievous grins and help his chosen heroes win wars.

Geras is born with wrinkles and frail bones. His skin sags off the muscles that never truly grow. Youth annoys him. Hebe is his sworn enemy long before they ever meet. But Charon holds him as he breathes hard and reminds him of the genius in age.

I was stupid when I was young. I'm older now. Wiser. More mature. He holds his little brother's wizened frame gently. Listen to the stories of the people. Sit with your brother when he visits his dying friends. There is no permanence or perfection in being young. You are a reminder of change, of inevitability, of maturity. I would not be able to tell you this without having lived and grown through so much before me.

Immortals don't age, Geras huffs bitterly. His voice is cracked and gruff, like an older blacksmith who has breathed in too much acrid smoke.

Everyone ages. We simply are not bound by it. Shapeless. Formless. If we want to look young, we can do so. If we want to look strong, we can do so. It is a blessing. He strokes Geras's thin hair. And much like curses, blessings can be taken away.

Geras sighs and sinks into his brother's stable hold. I don't know how to make myself look different.

Then don't, Charon says. You know how, little brother. We all do. But you do not want to look young. It is not who you are.

Then who am I? What am I? Geras cries. I want to be a child, not an ugly old man. I do nothing for the mortals like the others. I don't bring the day, I don't let them know that the end is near and they should prepare. I do not allow them to feel their hurt. I do not enact punishment and I do not win wars. I am just old and tired.

As I said, you are change. People become different over time. They learn and change, they age and grow. And you are inevitable, even to the gods. You are the reason Moros has friends. You are the reason Oizys creates mourning. You are stories told to grandchildren, you are the head of the household, you are the matriarch, you are history. You are a reminder of the end, and you are a goal for the sickly, for the soldiers in battle, for couples so deeply in love. Charon presses his lips dryly to his brother's wrinkled temple. And you are my brother. You have purpose in that alone.

Eris is hardened to the world when she leaves Tartarus. As always, Charon takes leave of the Underworld and guides her hand-in-hand through darkness and grass to the family home. She is a bitter thing. She finds fault in all things. Constant conflict is demanded of her. When he does not fall to her huffing ways, she grows louder and rougher. But Charon has been steady and stable since birth. Her need to sow problems over nothing does not rile him.

Calm down, he says when she slaps food off the table for being too cold, or shouts that he mended her clothes incorrectly. She cannot calm. It is beyond her. Still he holds her shaking hands and guides her down to a seat on the floor. Relax your breathing. Search for what settles you and utilize that.

Like many of the others, Charon brings her to Ares’ side. War does not settle her, not fully. Still, she finds solace in Ares and in Enyo, her preferred companion. Enyo enjoys the bitter sensation of discord, the craft of competition that awakens in Eris’ presence. Eris is no stranger to being cared for despite how she is, but it is odd to see it reflected in the face of someone who is not her family.

They bicker and argue over anything. Eris is always the instigator, but Enyo happily throws the first blow. Hands beat against faces. Blood bleeds into spit on the ground. Bruises bloom against skin. When the fight is done, they grin and breathe and move along. They are often joined by Ker, bringing horror to the soldiers who spot her flying above right before the final blow.

She spreads trouble outside of battle. Apate and Dolos pull her into their lies and trickery. Arguments follow her subtle instigating words. The twins pull strings behind yelling backs. Momus brings blame and she pushes hostility. The ensuing breakdowns are always so fun to watch. Harmony and peace, a sense of calm, does not befit her. But in carefully placed antagonism she finds a settlement, what Charon spoke of with gentle words, and it is enough.

The last to find life on the outside is young Philotes. Her siblings think she is strange. Even from birth, she is unlike any of them. In Tartarus, she befriends monsters, even the cruelest of punished souls. She hugs with abandon, and smiles wider than any of them thought was possible for their faces. She is not sharp-toothed, and she is not mean. She is not relaxed with sturdy sullenness. She is bright and joyful.

Charon does not bury forgotten bodies around her, nor does he hunt creatures as they sleep. Death upsets her. Violence is rejected. Ker and Thanatos find no fault in her eschew of their nature. She does not fault them for being as they are. It is harder with Eris, but only on her side. Trouble and conflict slides off Philotes’ shoulders like rain. It does not make her angry, or have her spit bitter words. Eris finds that vastly annoying. But despite their stark differences, Philotes loves her family without question.

Darkness does not suit her, though she walks through shadows as is her birthright, and does not shy away from the depths below as her companions in the clouds of Olympus do. Making friends is easy for her. She finds her way to the mountaintop from smile to smile, and hug to hug. The Graces adore her joyful nature. Pasithea finds amusement in their traded places - her born of Olympus to descend to the depths, and Philotes born of Tartarus to ascend to the golden skies. She does not join their numbers, but attends to their needs. It is a contented life filled with love, with friends, with good sex.

Charon waits for the call of his mother to let him know that another has joined their ranks but it does not come. He does miss, sometimes, the family home when it was filled with the life of another. He will settle there in his free time. The beds are clean, the pantry clear, cobwebs nonexistent. The passage of time does not encroach upon the home he built for his siblings. It does not rot the stone, nor the cloth. The house remains steady, stable, as he is.

Sometimes he walks down to the river. He will sit in the slow and shallow end under the night sky, feeling shadows wisp at his arms. There is no preference between his old and new homes. The Underworld suits him. Macaria who took him down to the depths and gave him his boat is there, his best friend. Styx rushes by as he floats. They speak casually amongst each other. The world is forever dark in the Underworld. It is cool. It is calm.

While only a few of his siblings live with him among the poplar trees and obsidian stone, the others do visit with annoyed huffs from Hades but nothing else in complaint. They join their mother and father in the heated wasteland of Tartarus. They visit the family home. They did not live there all at once, and they never will. He raised them to be independent, decisive. To be better and do more than they thought they could. Their home was a place to grow, and they have. It is no longer necessary for them. For him.

But it is always nice to walk through familiar doors and find his siblings talking amongst themselves. Lounging on cushions they used to sit on when they were much smaller, much younger. Eating at the table, sneaking bites of each other’s food. Playing the games still left behind on shelves and tables.

He never worried about what it meant to be the oldest made of flesh and bone. When he had followed Macaria down below, he did not mean to leave the three behind. They had ventured out, as Moros did. When days pattered by with no return, he thought they had found their own place in the world. Seeing them standing strong and hard-headed in front of Hades and demanding his return was more than amusing. Warmth cut through his heart.

Ferrying souls is his purpose. Watching the entrance when the Underworld is open is his purpose. It is what he has done from the beginning, carrying corpses home and laying them to rest, finding internal settlement in river water rushing beneath him. He is the ferryman and the gatekeeper. Carrying souls across the rushing river. Keeping eye on the doorway and forcing out those who try to push in without reason.

But as he always said, there is more to them than the base instinct of their nature. Like holding hands with little siblings as he walks them to their home, and guarding them from mortals and monsters and gods who do not understand what beauty exists in the dark.

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themultifandomgal · 1 year

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Kelly- Proposal/Wedding

Our first holiday together takes us to Vegas. We're only going for a few days while Connor has taken the kids and Nyx to have some uncle, niece, nephew bonding time. They're 2 years old now and I can't believe how big they have gotten

Kelly and I are having an amazing time although we are missing the kids. After having many drinks the night we met is recreated, although I'm on birth control now so no babies right?

Due to how much we had to drink we find ourselves in a chapel with Elvis

"You sure about this?" Kelly asks

"Hell yeah I am. I love you Kelly our lives together has been fast paced, but I truly believe that this is meant to be our lives"

"Yeah. Me too. Let's get married"

"Let's"

That night we get married and the following day we arrive back home.

"Hey guys" Kelly and I hold hands walking into the firehouse both of us smiling so wide is crazy

"Ok you either won a lot of money or your married" Gabby crosses her arms trying to hold back a smile. I lift my hand up wiggling my figures to show off my engagement ring and wedding band

"Oh my god" Gabby and Sylvie squeal running over to me to hug me

"Congratulations man" Cruz pats Kelly on the back

"Don't you think you guys have rushed this a bit?" Matt comments

"We haven't really done things in the conventional way have we?" I reply losing my smile

"I'm just looking out for you guys"

"Either way we are connected since we have kids. I love her Matt so please try to be happy for us" with the the bell goes and we all get ready to go put out a fire.

A few weeks later Kelly and I find out we aren't technically married which bums us both out. Kelly promises that we will get married properly one day and Hattie can be our bridesmaid, Oscar will be our ring bearer. Dropping the kids off at Jay and Erin's I head to Gabbys to have girl time

"Ok I know your sad about not being married so let's get you all dolled up"

"How's that going to help?" I ask

"It will trust me"

Gabby gets me all dressed up in a sexy ass dress which only confuses me more "No put this on" she hands me an eye mask

"Why?" I frown

"Just do it"

"Ok ok" I place it on my face and feel Gabby guiding me out of her room, down the stairs and out of the house. I feel myself getting into a car and now I'm even more confused.

After a bit of driving the car stops. I'm pulled out of the car and walked somewhere. I am finally allowed to take my eye mask off. There's Kelly stood in front of me smiling

"Hey" he smiles

"Hi. What's going on?" I look around

"We're gathered here today to whiteness the union between YN Rhodes and Kelly Severide" Matt starts saying "as we all know their love story is like a very fast paced film. Some would say like a Disney film" everyone chuckles while tears just start to fall "YN Kelly is there anything you'd like to say?"

"Yeah. Erm first of all I'm sorry our first wedding wasn't actually a wedding, but I guess that's what you get for getting married in Vegas. I love you so much YN and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and our kids. I want more children with you, I want a huge house, a white picket fence, a dog I want everything with you"

"I love you so much Kel" I cry

"YN do you take Kelly to be your lawfully wedded husband"

"Hell yeah I do"

"And do you Kelly take YN to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"Of course I do"

"With the power vested in me thanks to the web I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss one another" with that Kelly dips me and we share a kiss. That is until I feel someone tugging at my dress. I look down and see Hattie smiling

"Mamma my kisses now" Hattie signs to me I pick Hattie up and Kelly picks Oscar up and both give them a kiss each. My little family, but will be growing in the next 8 months.

#kelly severide #kelly severide x yn#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide x oc #one chicago #one chicago imagine #chicago fire #chicago fire imagine

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2thestars-andbeyond · 1 year

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The Fire That Burns Within Part 2

Warnings: Dirty thoughts. I think that’s it.

That night Y/n tried everything in her power to get rid of the hand print that the Heir had left on her skin. As she had been trained very little with using her healing powers, she wasn’t able to heal it. In fact, she swore it looked even more noticeable.. With a sigh she decides to take a warm bath and call it a night.

The next morning, Y/n woke up and slipped out of her silk pajamas and into a simple pair of pants and a high turtle neck sweater. She decided that the high neck of the sweater would hep conceal the mark. As long as she didn’t move her head to the left too far..

As Y/n walked down stairs and into the dinning room she noticed that the only seat open was beside Azriel. As she put food on her plate she tired her best not to move her head too much, knowing that if anyone would notice the mark it would be the Spy Master. Feyre sat in front of her and Nyx was fussing in her arms.

“I can take him so you can eat.” Y/n tells her sister. As Nyx is handed to y/n, he stops fussing and just stares at her. “Whats the matter little guy?” She asks him rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You like that, huh?” Nyx coos and Feyre lets out a relieved sigh.

“Finally!” Cries Cassian.”You shoulda headed him to y/n days ago.” He proclaims as he stuffs his mouth with a muffin. Nesta slaps him on the shoulder.

“Y/n his always been good with children. She’s like a baby whisperer or something.” Smiles Nesta.

Nyx’s little baby hands moved faster than y/n could move and before she knew it, he grabbed the neck of her sweater and pulled it down. There were gasps heard all around the table Someone drops their fork and it hits their plate loudly. Y/n tries to hide it again, but the damage is already done. Azriel shoots out of his chair.

“I will kill him.” he growls.

“Not before I do” Says Feyre as she stands too.

Cassian stands from his chair ready to follow his brother and High Lady. “Wait, who are we killing?” he asks.

“Eris” Rhys, Azriel and Feyre say at the same time.

“I am sure that there is an explanation for the mark on her.” reasons Lucien.

“I don’t need an explanation.” Az steps away from the table and towards the balcony as if he plans on flying off somewhere.

Rhysand, as if reading Azriels mind, grabs his forearm stopping him. “Let’s figure out what happened before you go off and start a war with Autumn.”

“Did he hurt you in any other way?” Questions Nesta almost bending her fork in two.

“What? No! Everything was consensual. ” Explains Y/n still rubbing the print.

“Then why the hell is there a burn mark in the shape of a hand print on your neck?” It was Mor’s turn to growl.

“What do you mean by everything?” pushes Feyre.

“I– We .. kissed” Y/n says as the others look at her shocked. “And things got a little bit heated.. Literally.” she finishes.

“You kissed him?” Mor asked. Y/n nods. “That’s not entirely what I meant when i hinted on you getting laid, Y/n”

“I couldn’t help myself. It’s like I was put under some type of spell or something. Is that an Autumn Court thing?” Y/n turns to Lucien. He shakes his head no and narrows his eyes. “Maybe it was the wine, then. Look, it’s not like I planned on making out with Night Courts arch nemesis!” Yells y/n. “Hes really not as bad as everyone says anyway. He was sweet and charming. Geez, I don’t really even know him” she mumbles.

“That’s what he wants you the think. Before you know it you're left for dead in the forest somewhere.”

“Look Mor I–” Y/n starts

Mor puts her hand in the air singling her to stop talking, “I’m not mad Y/n, you are capable of making your own decisions. But when I tell you this is a bad decision, please believe me.”

“I’ve always heard that Autumn court males have fire in their veins, but this..” Feyre starts

Y/n places her hand on the mark covering it. It still feels warm.

“It doesn't hurt. And he didn’t mean to.. He lost control, I guess”

“First a burn.. “ Scoffs Azriel “what next?”

“I don’t think Eris meant to hurt me.”

“Eris isn’t one to lose control. He takes pride in being in control of his powers.“ says Lucien.

Y/n shrugs. “Like I said. He didn’t hurt me. Things just got heated.”

“I will make sure he never comes near you again.” Azriel whispers dangerously. It sends a shiver through Y/n.

“You don’t have to do that Azriel. I am fine. It will heal.”

“Shouldn’t it be healed?” Elain muses. “I mean, you do have healing powers, and heal faster than any of us.”

“I tired to heal it myself, but– nothing worked.” Y/n confesses.

Rhysand gives Feyre a concerned look and y/n knows they are having a conversation using their daemati powers.

“I am going to Autumn to get answers from Eris himself.” Says Azriel.

“That will not be necessary, I will send a message to him myself.” Rhysand tell him and turns to head for his office. Feyre takes Nyx and follows her mate.

Rhysand sends the massage to the Heir asking him to come to an urgent meeting that night. Eris expects. Azriel doesn’t leave Y/n side as he vowed to Rhysand to protect her at all costs. As Eris enters the room, Y/n heart skips a beat and she grabs her neck. Swallowing hard she turns her gaze to the carpeted floor at her feet. Azriel places his hand on her knee is squeezes, sending a soft reassuring smile her way. Eris’ nostrils flare as he watches the exchange between them.

“Eris,” Rhysand brings him form his thoughts, “thanks for joining us.”

“What is the meaning for this urgent meeting? I was just here last night”

“That’s exactly why you are here.” Feyre tells him and he gives her a confused look.

“Why did you burn Y/n?” snarls Azriels.

Eris smirks at him. “Jealous are we?”

Azriel shoots towards Eris faster than lighting and grabs him by the neck throwing him into the bookcase behind him. “You will tell me why you hurt her or I will force it out of you.” He tells him.

“Azriel, please. I told you he did not hurt me. Let him go” Azriel squeezes his neck tighter.

“Azriel, let him go” Feyre says calmly. Azriel lets go of the Heirs neck and backs aways from him, his shadows surrounding him as he moves. Eris locks eyes with Y/N and Azriel gives Eris a look that could kill. A shadow comes up to Azriel’s ear as if whispering something to it’s owner. His eyes dart between Eris and Y/n, he bats the shadow away and storms out of the room.

“I did not mean to harm Y/n. I would never” states Eris still trying to catch his breath from almost being chocked out by Az. Mor scoffs at his words.

“It was but an accident. I– I do not know what came over me last night. It is not like me to lose control like that.” He says to Y/n,walking over to her and taking her hands in his slowly scared to hurt her again.

Y/n squeezes his hands. Eris loses himself in her hazel eyes again and notices the red tint of her cheeks. Someone clears their throat. Rhysand

“I’m not sure what you are up to Eris, but it needs to stop. Now. First you ask for Nesta’s hand in marriage and now this. What is your fascination with the sisters?”

“I guess the same as your Shadow Singer.” Spits Eris. “It started with his sick obsession with my brothers mate. And when she finally decides to acknowledge their bond, he moves on to mine.” Eris stiffens as he realizes what he had just confessed. Y/n places a hand over her mouth as she processes to words that she just heard. Mine.

“Yours? Your what?” Asks Y/n.

“You are my mate, Y/n. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you last night. I did not plan to tell you this way–”

Mate. Mate. Y/n repeats in her mind over and over again. Everyone is silent, not sure what to do or say. There is no way this could be happening. Mated to her families enemy. He had hurt her sister and done horrible things to Mor.

Breathing hard Y/n steps back, away from Eris, her back hitting Azriel’s chest. She hadn't noticed he had re entered the room. “I– I need some air, excuse me.” Eris goes to follow her but Az stops him.

“Back off Illyrian bastard, rather any of you like it or not, she is mine. We will be linked together forever.” Eris snarls at Azriel.

Azriel goes to attack him again but this time, flames shoot from Eris’ palms. Everyone goes into defense mode.

“Eris, I understand what you are feeling right now, but you can’t do this. You would start a war. And how would father react if he finds out about your mate like this?” Lucien tells his brother.

“I don’t give a damn. I will start wars and win them for her. I will burn every court to the ground in her name if I need to. She is mine. And I will have her.”

“You are not taking her anywhere.” spits Azriel.

“Here’s an idea Shadow Singer, why don't you go find your own mate instead of trying to steal others.” Azriel’s eyes narrow at his words, but he recoils at Rhysands command in his mind. “Stand down, you do not understand what he is feeling right now.”

“And what if she doesn’t want the bond?” asks Feyre.

Eris takes a deep breath and his growing flames disappear. “Y/n had a really hard time adjusting to life as Fae. What makes you think that she would expect you so fast? Look at Elain and Lucien. It took Elain some time to expect your brother as her mate. Y/n is not yours. You do not own her” says Nesta.

“That may not be how it is here in your court, but in Autumn.. It is different. And as future High Lord, I will do everything in my power to get her by my side.” Eris answers with a voice laced with venom. Y/n enters the room again standing beside Az.

“Have you not learned anything from the way we watched Father treat Mother all these years? We have both seen the same marks put on her. Brother, let her have a choice! Do not be like him. Don’t stoop to his level. You are better than him Eris!” Lucien yells at Eris.

Y/n sends a horrified look towards her youngest sister. She had heard stories of Beron Vanserra, but had never met him.

“Those marks were different! They were made out of hatred. That mark is because I lost control due to the mating bond. Out of lust!” shouts Eris. Y/n thinks back to the night before. That kiss they shared, how good it felt– she would have let him take her right there on that balcony had it not been for him putting that mark on her. She would have let him bend her over the railing while his too warm lips explored her body. She wonders if other parts of him are as warm too.. But she can’t go with a male she doesn’t know.

“I don’t want to go.” says Y/n tears in her eyes. “I’ve heard stories of your court. Of your father.. Of you. I– I don’t want to go. Last night was a mistake.” she holds onto Azriel’s arm.

“The Mother doesn’t make mistakes when it comes to mates. You are my equal. You will come with me, to my court.” Eris takes a step toward Y/n with nothing but anger in his eyes. Az places an arm around her. Y/n buries her face into Az’s chest. Eris goes to grab Y/n from Azriel, but Az moves her behind him and they stand almost nose to nose glaring at each other. If looks could kill they would both drop dead.

“How dare you come between a male and his mate!” growls Eris.

“I think you should leave.” Rhysand tells Eris his voice is dark. Cassian stands beside Azriel with a sword drawn.

Eris storms out and Y/n lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Y/n cant ignore the tugging feeling in her chest, it almost hurts as if something is trying to pull her towards him. She can’t help but feel guilty for not going with him, but she didn’t even know him. And the stories, not the mention the print he had left on her. What else was this male capable of? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Y/n knows he is a good male. Behind the facade he puts on she knows there is male that is capable of great things. She just couldn’t bring herself to go to a court she knows nothing about.

But The Autumn Heir will haunt her thoughts and dreams until she is his.

#acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #azriel x reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x oc #acotar x you #acotar #lucien vanserra #rhysand #feyre #x OC #reader

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theladyofdeath · 9 months

Text

Better or Worse {Epilogue}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: The end. :) Thank you for reading! We've appreciated all the love and support. I'm hoping to start posting a new project soon. Stay tuned!

~ Cassian ~

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I freeze, blinking, and slowly slide my eyes to where Nesta is standing at the kitchen’s threshold, gaping at me.

“What?”

“You can’t have her that close to the stove! What if she catches on fire?!”

I look down to where Evelyn is strapped to my chest, swaddled in the cotton wrap that leaves only her face popping out, her little cheek squished against my chest. She’s sleeping, snoring softly, and perfectly content.

“Nes.” I give my beautiful wife a look as I desperately try not to roll my eyes. “She’s three weeks old. What’s she going to do? Fling herself into the pot?” Nesta opens her mouth to protest, but I go on. “There’s only one burner on, and it’s on low, and it’s the back burner, and I’m letting it simmer. I’m just giving it a quick stir. I can assure you that no infant will be harmed in the stirring of this sauce that will blow your fucking mind. Calm down.”

As soon as those two little words leave my mouth, I know I fucked up. Backtrack. Rewind. The spoon in my hand stills as I clear my throat, scared to even look in her direction. “And…by ‘calm down’...I mean…I love you.”

She approaches, her footsteps light, and she stops beside me. “Be glad I love you too or I’d be tossing your balls into that pot right about now.”

Pain. I feel physical pain at those words. Cringing, I set down the spoon and turn to face her. She’s not looking at me at all, but at the little bundle of joy we brought home three weeks ago. Nesta’s eyes are soft as she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Evelyn’s forehead.

We were instantly in love. From the moment she was given to us, we knew that we were meant to be her parents. It’s hard as hell, raising an infant, and although it’s only been three weeks and I know it’s going to get a hell of a lot harder, I have never felt so fucking blessed.

“Everyone should be getting here soon,” Nesta says, quietly, eyes meeting mine at last. She reaches up onto her toes and kisses me, softly.

Rhys, Feyre, Azriel, and Elain were all in the waiting room at the hospital when Evelyn was born, but we haven’t seen them since. They’ve given us space to settle into our new roles, into this new life we’ve built for ourselves. The solitude, although necessary and beautiful, has been driving us a little crazy, though. Two days ago, Nesta came to me in tears, partly out of exhaustion, I’m sure, and told me she needed her sisters.

So tonight, I made dinner.

Evelyn is in a pretty good routine and will most likely sleep for the rest of the night, only waking up to eat, but she can sleep anywhere. I have no doubt we’ll be passing her around so that everyone can get their baby fix.

They all arrive together, six on the dot, and we greet each other as if we haven’t been all together in years instead of a matter of weeks. I don’t even care that the food has gone cold by the time we sit around the table, too much time being spent doting over the baby for it to stay warm.

Even cold, it’s delicious, I must say. We eat and talk and laugh, and tell them all about every little detail of the last three weeks. Nyx is smitten most of all, wanting to sit next to his cousin at all times and hold her hand. He’ll be a fantastic big brother and I can’t help but wonder if Rhys and Feyre will have more kids. I know Rhys wants a house full, but he’s not the one doing the hard work.

Once we’re full and the table has been cleared, we get comfortable in the living room. Elain is holding Evelyn while Azriel rocks a sleeping Sera. I’m convinced the two of them will be best friends and will most likely raise hell together.

I can’t wait. But then again, yes I can, because she’s so sweet and innocent in this newborn stage that I don’t want that to change. Then again, I can’t wait to watch her grow, to see all those milestones and watch her grow into her own person.

“Careful, dad, you’re getting teary-eyed,” Nesta whispers, leaning into me and patting my knee.

I chuckle and pull her closer. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

Nesta rests her head on my shoulder. “Liar.”

She’s right. It was a lie. I’m overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with love and contentment. We worked so hard to be where we’re at and although it’s not how we originally imagined, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d endure every bout of heartache all over again that led us here, to this, to her.

Nesta.

Evelyn.

I watch as our family loves on our daughter, watch as our little circle becomes whole. I had dreamt of this, we both had for so long. The fact that it’s now reality is unreal. I feel like I’m dreaming and the fact that I’m not, yes…has me on the verge of tears.

One must slip past my defenses because Nesta reaches up and wipes her thumb across my damp cheek.

No one comments on my crying and I feel zero shame. There is no shame in being unimaginably happy.

“Now I have two cousins,” Nyx says from where he’s climbing onto Rhys’ lap. He scrunches his nose. “When will I have boy cousins? Or a brother? There’s too many girls.”

Rhys laughs quietly. “These girls are going to grow up to kick your butt if you keep talking like that. Especially with these two brutes as their fathers.”

Azriel snorts. “Cass will have Evie lifting weights daily by the time she’s two. She’ll probably be able to kick my butt.”

Nyx laughs at this, head thrown back, his giggles loud.

We stay sitting, talking, reminiscing until even Nyx is snoring soundly in his father’s arms. By the time we finally say goodnight, I’m spent. Exhausted. Can hardly keep my eyes open.

But I don’t care.

Sleep is irrelevant when everything has fallen into place, when every time your eyes are open you feel like nothing can go wrong. We’ve already had our heartbreak, have already faced our trials, and although I’m not naive and know that trials will still come…

I know, without a doubt, that everything will be okay.

I’m sliding into bed as Nesta lays Evelyn in her bassinet next to her side of the bed. I watch as she stares at our daughter, knowing her heart is bursting with pride and love, mirroring my own. I lay down quietly, my eyes remaining on the outline of her frame in the darkness.

“She’s perfect, Cass,” she whispers, and those damn tears return.

“Yeah,” I agree, quietly. “She is.”

She climbs into bed and snuggles up close to me, my arms going around her without a thought. We close our eyes, quickly drifting into the four hours of sleep we’ll be getting, at most, before the soft cries of a newborn fills our silent bedroom.

Sleep is irrelevant.

Our daughter is perfect.

My wife is the love of my life.

And I am whole.

#nessian #nessian bow #better or worse #fanfic #fancition #fanfiction #epilogue #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #snacmc collab #snelbz x theladyofdeath #sjm #modern au #happy endings

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dreamlandreader · 5 months

Text

Foolish Fire

Chapter One: Little Lights

Merry Christmas! I’m here to deliver one freshly baked fic for the incredibly lovely and wonderfully talented @popjunkie42-blog for the @acotargiftexchange 🫱🏻🎁 Surprise! I’m your Secret Santa! ♥️ I’ve loved chatting with you over the past couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as I’ve loved every minute of writing it.

Click HERE if you would prefer to read on AO3 Content warnings - Suggestive conversations, bad language and public displays of fae affection 🔥

Word Count - 3201 Words

“Absolutely not, Feyre. No way. Not a chance!” Rhysand insisted for the third time in less than an hour. He may love his mate to the end of his existence and beyond, but his patience was becoming increasingly limited.

It didn’t help Feyre’s case that she was attempting to have this rather alarming conversation whilst Rhys was turning his office upside down, trying to locate an important document that had escaped his attention.

“Why not?” Feyre begged, bouncing her son energetically on her hip and following Rhys across the room as he frantically searched through his neatly arranged files, papers flying everywhere.

“I am not spending a weekend in the woods with half our inner circle, a toddler, and Lucien freaking Vanserra!” Rhys huffed.

“Okay, first of all, it’s not half the inner circle; it’s my sisters and their mates - one of whom happens to be your brother!” Feyre stated plainly, rolling her eyes at her mate’s usual dramatics. “Secondly, I thought you and Lucien were okay now?”

“Well, yes, okay to share dinner and a drink with, not to huddle around a campfire, darling”, he groaned.

“Daddy’s grumpy,” Nyx said to Feyre, hiding a giggle behind his tiny hands. Rhys stuck his tongue out to his son, of course, he would take his mother’s side. The cheeky baby just blew a raspberry back in response.

“I really think this could be good for us, Rhys,” Feyre tried again, ignoring her two boys’ antics and glancing over at her mate’s desk. “I love our lives, and the responsibility we have for this court, but even the High Lord and Lady need a break from time to time. We’ve barely seen each other the past few weeks,”

Feeling the twinges of guilt starting to gnaw at his gut, Rhys looked from his son to his wife just in time to see her pull the exact paper he needed from his desk with knowing eyes. He supposed he had been overdoing it a little the last month or so. Sighing, he reached for the paper with one hand and hooked an arm around Feyre’s waist with the other.

“I know things have been busy at the moment, but once this treaty is drafted and we’ve managed to convince everyone to sign it, then I’m all yours again, darling,”

“You need a break, Rhys,” Feyre sighed.

“When I do eventually go back to it, I’m able to see exactly what I need to do to make it work better,” Feyre said gently, looking at Rhys with such care and warmth in her eyes. “Clearly, all this extra work has your head muddled if you couldn’t find a paper right there on your desk. Give yourself a break, and come back with fresh eyes. The treaty will be all the better for it.”

“And what about Nyx? We can’t take him off into the woods. He’s too young,” Rhys replied, stroking his son’s cheek as he looked at his father with such innocent and loving eyes.

“Mor said she will happily babysit for a couple of days,”

“Aunty Mor! Aunty Mor!” Nyx squealed, clapping his pudgy hands together in excitement.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you, baby? A whole weekend with Aunty Morrigan,” Feyre said to her son, tickling his round tummy.

Rhysand walked over to his plush velvet couch and flopped down theatrically.

“But why can’t we just throw him an obnoxiously large party like a normal Fae male. Why does it have to be in a forest?”

“Because Elain wanted to plan something special for the first birthday he’ll celebrate as part of a mated couple. She knows he loves the outdoors and thought it would be a great opportunity for us all to go on a family trip. Please, Rhys! Do it for me!”

“Oh, for caldron’s sake! Fine. But I’m not sharing a tent with Cass, no matter how much he begs!” Rhys insisted, giving his mate the most adorable of pouts.

Two weeks later, with a backpack full of supplies and her mate in tow, Feyre sludged through the thick mud and jumped over the tree roots which lay intertwined on the forest floor. Rhysand followed behind her, much less enthusiastically clambering through the woods, a solemn look upon his face, as his wife continued to drag him by the hand, and they fell behind the rest of their group.

Lucien and Elain were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, leading the group with an impressive energy that Rhys believed could only be explained by their newly formed bond. No one could possibly be that excited to trudge through the woods, he thought. Bouncing along the woodland route, Lucien had not stopped talking for the five hours they’d been walking. Elain was practically skipping alongside him, giving him her most rapt attention.

In typical fashion, Cassian and Nesta, who lingered in the middle of the pack, had spent the day jumping between arguing uncontrollably and restraining themselves from ripping each other’s clothes off. Rhys swore to himself on hour three that if he caught one more scent of their arousal upon the wind, he would winnow himself and Feyre right back home, damn the consequences.

Elain had chosen the Erebus forest on the border between the courts of Night and Day because it was known for its beautiful pathways and glittering lakes. The trees were still lush with leaves despite the autumn days creeping in, leaving the landscape rich with burnished gold, deep russet and warm copper foliage. The most extensive woodland in the entirety of the Night Court, the Erebus forest was the centre of a vast amount of local folklore, much of which Rhysand had been told by his mother in childhood. Tales of devious tricksters and terrifying beasts that prowled the woods were passed down through generations of Night Court young. As the High Lord over this territory, though, Rhysand had never found evidence to suggest that these stories were anything more than myths which warned children against getting lost in such a dense forest.

Rhysand’s poor mood was punctuated by the slow and steady drip drip drip of rain. “I knew this was a terrible idea,” Rhys mumbled, slicking his damp hair out of his eyes.

“Rhysand!” Feyre exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks with a venomous look in her eyes and raindrops dripping off the end of her nose. “You survived the blood rite, have fought in some of the deadliest battles in Prythian’s history, and have literally been brought back from death, yet a bit of rain is sending you over the edge?”

Rhysand looked at his muddy feet, raindrops dripping from his eyelashes in shame. He may be hating every moment of this trip, but he could not stand the thought of letting his wife down.

“I didn’t have a choice with those things. I did them to survive. This is supposed to be … fun,” he grimaced, shivering on the spot. “Why can’t we just winnow to a camping spot?”

“You know why. Lucien and Elain have asked we do everything authentically. No magic.”

“Urgh,” he groaned like a petulant child.

“Rhys, I love you so much, but I need you to stop whining! You’re driving me mad,” Feyre begged, feeling dangerously close to the end of her tether.

“Hey, I think this would be a good place to stop and set up camp,” Lucien shouted, interrupting Feyre’s tense glare. Replacing her frown with a smile, she once again grabbed Rhysand’s hand and dragged him along.

It took Rhys and Feyre roughly forty minutes to pitch their tent. Twice as long as Cassian and Nesta, who, after high-fiving and giving one another a delighted grin, sat back and critiqued everyone else’s technique.

The copse of trees under which they set up camp didn’t do much to shield them from the rain that was teaming down in buckets. Still, once the storm began to subside and a fire was built, they could at least start warming themselves.

Rhysand had decided for his mate, and his mate alone, he would try to seem more enthusiastic. So when Lucien suggested he could teach the other two males how to catch fish from a nearby river with their bare hands, Rhys was the first to roll up his sleeves and jump in the freezing water.

Feyre and her sisters, who chose to watch in amusement from the edge of the water, did not even attempt to stifle their laughter. After all, you rarely get front-row seats to watch the High Lord of the Night Court and his general splash around aggressively in water to bolster their male pride.

Lucien was successful in his endeavour and caught a good amount of sizeable fish, which would easily fill the bellies of the entire group. Cassian and Rhys, however, were slightly less successful. Cassian had managed to catch a fish, but it was barely as big as his thumb. Rhys, on the other hand, had caught everything but a fish. An old boot, several empty bottles of fae wine and numerous twigs now lined the bank of the river and stared mockingly at Rhysand, who was beginning to doubt his own skills.

Feyre was right. He had survived much worse conditions than this, he’d even been through much more severe forms of camping than this. During the blood rite, he had been separated from his brothers and had to fight his way back to them, all whilst trying to keep himself alive in the process. He hadn’t thought twice about it back then. He was getting too comfortable with his life in Velaris. Getting used to the calm of a post-war Prythian. Yes, he and his mate had piles of work to keep them busy, treaties to sign, and alliances to make, but all in all, they were in an excellent position, a period of great contentment. That thought made Rhysand’s stomach squeeze. He should not, could not, let himself get complacent.

From then on, Rhysand decided to utilise this trip as an opportunity to re-engage with his survival instincts. Perhaps he could even learn a trick or two from his Autumn Court companion. He would never admit it to Lucien, but some sly observation of his obvious skills would harm no one. And, if his active participation in the group kept his mate happy, then Rhys was even more convinced to oblige.

With his newfound vigour, Rhysand pulled Feyre into his lap whilst dinner was roasted over the campfire. Her suspicions about her mate's sudden change of heart soon disappeared as the fae wine that Elain had snuck into her travel sack began to flow, and laughter echoed around the campsite.

A few hours later, giddy from the wine and encouraged by the slowly setting sun, Rhysand dipped his head into the crook of his mate's neck and began to plant gentle kisses against her soft skin. Within seconds, Feyre turned in his lap, eyes alight with craving, and her lips pressed against his own. His hands slid down her spine and cupped her backside as he let out a low groan.

Just as Rhys slipped his tongue between Feyre's parted lips, the lovers were jerked harshly back into reality by an unamused Nesta.

“For the love of the mother, please stop before I puke up the remains of dinner,” Nesta drawled, giving her sister a pointed look.

“Oh come on, Nesta, as though you and Cass haven’t been giving each other sex eyes all night,” Feyre laughed, as Cassian shrugged in agreement, and Nesta elbowed him in the side.

“At least we are holding back until we get to the tent,” Nesta retorted, raising one eyebrow in a blatant challenge.

Although the sisters were debating who the horniest couple was, there was none of the bitterness that used to linger between them. Since Nyx’s birth, Feyre and Nesta had worked on repairing the fractured parts of their relationship, and though things had been tentative for a while, this sisterly teasing was a clear step in the right direction.

Rhysand’s heart swelled for his mate. He knew just how much this newly developing relationship meant to her, and from the warm smile radiating from his brother, he could tell it meant a lot to Nesta, too.

“All that steamy smut you read and your sister sharing one kiss with her mate is sending you over the edge?” Feyre retorted, a quizzical grin brightening her beautiful face.

“That smut doesn’t require me to watch my sister getting her ass squeezed!” Nesta huffed, amusement sparkling in her eyes.

“Pfft, as if Elain and I aren’t painfully aware that you and Cassian have fucked on every available surface in the House of Wind,”

An awkward cough interrupted the quick retort that was teetering on the edge of Nesta’s lips, and all eyes swung to Cassian, who was rubbing the back of his neck in evident discomfort.

“I hate to break it to you ladies,” Cassian said, low and quiet, as though he was revealing his most precious of secrets. “But I don’t think either of you is the Archeron sister that needs worrying about!”

Nesta and Feyre, along with their mates, all readjusted their gazes towards Elain, who was sat in her mate’s lap, sharing kisses and sensually moving her fully clothed hips against his. She was blissfully ignorant to her sister’s shock as Lucien’s hands slid up both sides of her dress, and she threw back her head in pleasure, allowing him to kiss down her exposed neck towards her chest.

“Oh gods, that’s enough socialising for today. I’m going to bed!” Nesta cried, almost tripping over herself in an effort to unsee what was now burned deeply into her mind.

“Yeah, good plan. Great plan!” Feyre squeaked, cheeks getting hotter by the second, as her desire to winnow away as far as possible grew exponentially.

Rhysand had to laugh as his mate clumsily hurried away towards the tent. What did she expect going away with a freshly mated couple? Even if the initial frenzy had eased off, the first year of a new bond was filled with passion and numerous instances where all rational thought went out of the window. Even now, three years after his own mating bond was cemented, Feyre and Rhys often struggled to resist each other.

Catching up to Feyre, Rhys wrapped his arms around his mate's middle and tucked his head into her neck, nipping at her earlobe.

“I didn’t know you were so easy to make blush, my love,” Rhys chuckled in her ear.

“I didn’t expect to see my sister dry-humping her mate tonight, that’s all,” Feyre replied, laughing too.

"Let's go for a walk, Darling," Rhys purred.

Feyre turned in his arms, a sly grin on her face as she clasped Rhysand's hand in her own, and together, they wandered deeper into the woods, away from the prying ears of their fae brethren.

Breathless from excitement, Rhys twirled his mate towards him, picked her up and pushed her against a nearby tree. As their lips met, teeth clashing in their eagerness, Feyre scraped her nails against Rhysand’s scalp in the way she knew always made the male shiver with anticipation.

Rhys nipped and sucked at Feyre’s lower lip, sliding his hands under her thick jumper and lazily working them up her body. Tracing the bottom of her lacy bra around to the back, Rhys was moments away from undoing the clasp when a sharp sound perforated the heated silence of the woods.

The snap of the twig had the lovers on instant high alert. Rhys tried to reassure himself that perhaps it was just one of the other couples from their party, who, like Feyre and himself, felt like a midnight tryst under the stars. But then, in the distance, a soft flickering light melted through the frigid black of night.

“What is that?” Feyre faltered, peering around her mate’s shoulder to better see the potential danger ahead.

"I don't know, but it's coming this way. Perhaps it's time to leave." Rhys replied, gripping Feyre's waist more firmly but lowering her to the ground to give her the chance to run if needed.

As the light drew ever closer, it became apparent that the source of light did not come from the lamp of another weary traveller or even as the result of a predator out in the dead of night ready to catch some unsuspecting prey. Instead, it appeared that the glow was produced by a small, illuminated, floating creature.

"Fireflies?" Feyre asked, squinting into the distance. The couple's fae hearing picked up the sound of tiny wings fluttering against the brisk autumn air as the light danced closer.

"No, they look like-"

"Butterflies!" Feyre gasped as dozens of dazzling butterflies swirled around them like autumn leaves on the breeze, leaving a gleaming trail in the path behind them.

Feyre reached out a hand and let out a small laugh as one of the creatures landed on her index finger, its magic bouncing off her own, sending a warm tingle throughout her body.

Then, as quickly as the golden butterflies appeared, they began to drift off and were, one by one, swallowed by the shadows. Only the gentle butterfly on Feyre's hand remained, casting a glow that lit her face with wonder.

Slowly taking flight, the beautiful creature seemed to beckon Feyre to follow it deeper into the woods. Feyre felt in her very soul that it was of the utmost importance that she went with it, and she shared this thought with her mate. Rhysand, however, was uncertain. He scoured his memory for any recollection of a creature quite like this, with luminous wings and a beckoning pull, but he came up short. The only tale he could remember was of the Will-o'-the-wisp, tricky little beasts who masqueraded as distant lamp lights, only to deceive weary travellers into getting lost, often leading them into mortal danger, delivering them to foul monsters who would gladly tear them apart. But, in all the stories he had heard of these characters, they had never taken the form of such placid creatures.

"Come on," Feyre beamed, striding forward, sparkling eyes wide.

"Feyre no!" Rhys replied, reaching a hand out towards her, but he merely blinked, and his mate had disappeared into the inky night.

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