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xreaderbooks · 1 year

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All I Breathe (5)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: mentions of sexual assault, death, violence, ptsd, language

Summary: Y/n recounts her past with her enemy, making a new 'friend', Azriel makes his appearance in the Autumn Court known at the ball. (angst)

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Available on Wattpad and AO3

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The sound of the door clicking shut made you stir in your sleep, your eyes were crusted by the tears you shed overnight made it twice as hard to open them. You managed to blink the eye that was not on the side of your face nuzzled into your pillow, a familiar tall dark figure made his way over to you and you were suddenly more interested in being awake than asleep. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and the next thing you knew he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

You watch him warily as he fully turns his body to face yours with legs crossed, you wordlessly sat up, matching his position. His silent watchful stare made you feel more vulnerable than you had been last night, it was as if he was afraid you would break if he spoke so much as a whisper.

“I’m not fragile,” Your throat was sore as you spoke. “Say something.”

A mellifluous tune resounded with the one word he replied with, “Something.”

“So you’re a jester now?”

His laugh sang to your heart and you straightened at the odd feeling. You ignored it, your eyes traveling to his spy wear and shot him a look that questioned his presence.

“I thought we should have a check-in on how your end was holding up since we never got the chance to do so yesterday.” He alluded to the both of you not speaking for a whole day after the argument where not-so-kind words were said. You got a flashback of the screaming match where his true feelings towards you were shown. That made it much more difficult to comprehend his actions only a couple of hours ago.

With an exhale you recounted what Beron told you, he listened without a single impertinent remark. “He expects the ‘prisoner’ to be brought to him once you’ve caught him.”

“I’ll handle it,” He says.

“I could help,” You offered hesitantly.

His tone held finality, “I said I’ll handle it.”

You didn’t care if he said he’d handle it, if there was one way to prove you could be of use to your new court, to prove your worth; you would formulate a plan so that Azriel’s main focus could be the alchemist. You could deal with your family but for now, you would let Azriel believe you won’t play a part in it.

You cleared your throat, “I suppose if we are to be allies, you deserve an explanation as to what happened last night.”

“There’s no need-” He started.

“It would make me feel better if we share even the tiniest bit of information about our lives, I can’t trust someone to ‘handle’ something if I don’t know the person I’m trusting.” You persuaded, “It is the reason you can’t stand to be near me after all.”

He didn’t move an inch in response, simply watching you in quiet contemplation as you began to tell your story. “Before I was a spy for Tamlin, I worked for my brothers. I was coerced into their plans of entrapping men who owed them money or who had committed crimes, anyone who escaped them. Whether they had conned their way out of my brothers' grasp or if they were imprisoned and pardoned, if my brothers wanted them it was my job to get them. They made me wear the most attractive dress and made certain my face was painted in a way that would capture the attention of any male. They controlled what I ate, ensured that I train if only so that my figure be the suitable size.”

Your lips curled in distaste, “They taught me the best ways to seduce a male to bed though they never let them get that far. Eris said I wouldn’t be useful if I were spoiled goods, if word got out nobody would want me, not that I cared at least if I were ‘spoiled goods’ it would all stop. They never let them get close enough to do that damage but they definitely got close, too close for my liking and yet not close enough for my brothers to stop them.” Azriel's chest rose and fell in a rhythm you weren’t sure if he was breathing correctly.

“Every night I would take them to a hostel owned by my brothers, after some flirting and a couple touches that made me want to bathe in poison, some were easier to persuade than others. Once I had them pursuing me to the same room that I would take every other male, my brothers would be just around the corner. I swear sometimes they would wait longer just to torture me.” You scoffed at the memory of one night when you plead to the mother they would come quickly, from what you knew of the male he was a thief and a horrible person and loved to touch you in places you always made sure to set your boundaries. Most of them respected it, depending on the male, and until you got to the room it wasn’t a problem.

“One night I had to capture the attention of a lesser fae around my age who owned a carpentry shop left by his father who was very much in debt. He didn’t fall for any of my usual tricks, in fact, he laughed and asked me if I really thought he was that easy. I told him that most are, he got serious after that and offered to walk me to where I was staying, he didn’t know that I was the high lord’s daughter then or that I was sent to lure him into his death. He asked to see me again the next day and every day after that.” You smiled as tears welled in your eyes, “We were together every day for half a year, after the first three months I confessed to what brought me to his store and he confessed to having already fallen in love with me. Even after I told him the truth he still loved me and I loved him, Gods I loved him more than I ever loved anything. Like everything else in my life, it was ripped away from me by my brothers. When they found out about him they tore him apart, I found Lucien near where they dumped his body, they knocked him out so he couldn’t stop him.”

“I had to follow through with every male that they told me to pursue, they let them have their way with me and did whatever they wanted to the guy after. It was my punishment, Lucien couldn’t step in or they threatened to kill me. I played my part for years until Lucien met Jessminda. My father murdered her and soon Tamlin was stepping in and took me and Lucien in. Tamlin and I faked a courtship and marriage for my protection, Lucien became his emissary, and the rest you already know.”

Azriel’s nostrils were flared, and his eyes held something within them that you have seen directed at you far too many times to mistake for anything other than pure rage, though this time you weren’t sure why. “Did they do that to you?” His gaze rested on your eye that had a going from a couple of inches above your brow to your cheekbone.

You shook your head, “Amarantha. She wanted Tamlin for herself and when he denied her, his excuse being me- his wife- with a nail, she cut deep enough to leave the scar. The same eye as Lucien’s to match. The humorous part of it all was she wanted to make Tamlin despise looking at me because of how hideous I look now when he never wanted me in that way.”

There was a tension in the air you didn’t think either of you wanted to address, you climbed out of bed and tied your hair back. You glanced around the room hoping to find something else to focus on. Some invisible force drew you to him, you resisted and instead noticed how his fists were clenched so hard they were white. His hands were covered in scars, you’ve noticed them before but never cared to ask the story behind them.

For an inexplicable reason, his rage made you want to tear the world apart, to try and ease the ire he had in his heart, you sat directly where he was with his legs crossed. His back tense and his wings stiffly folded in, your hand reached for his hand reluctantly. His skeptical gaze made you want to retreat but you would not falter, not after all that you shared.

You made him unclench his fingers taking his large scarred hand into both of yours and to your surprise he let you. “Tell me what haunts your dreams, Shadowsinger,” You say.

“I do not take orders from demanding little girls,” He fakes an authoritative tone yet doesn’t pull away. Your mouth widens into a smile, gratified to hear him joke with you.

“Little girl!” You snorted. “That’s a new one.”

Shock displayed on his face, “That’s a new laugh.”

“You wouldn’t know, now would you?”

“I suppose not,” The solemn expression was brought back. You cursed whatever force tore down the wall of fury you had whenever you were around the spymaster. All you wanted was to hear the sound of his laugh and not the bitter bite of his words. “My brothers burned my hands when I was eight.”

Your hands went slack in his, pieces of the puzzle that was Azriel formed in your mind, that was why he couldn’t touch you. Last night was an exception but the reason he was so distant, the reason he refused to touch you not only because he hated you but because you were made of fire. You lived with fire in your veins, the power that burst out of you when you were hurt or angry, Azriel had multiple reasons to hate you and this one made the most sense.

With that in mind, you released your hold on his hand. Everything was taking formation in your mind, fragments of moments you had spent with Azriel, you and he are more alike than you thought. Your brothers, his and yours, were assholes.

“They were also older and didn’t much care for me, their mother kept me locked in a dungeon for 11 years and barely let me see my mother for more than an hour once a week.” He concentrated on telling you the story, and a crease formed on his brow. Though you couldn’t stand him on a daily basis with his baseless comments on who you are as a person, you felt for him. The more you learned about him, the more his treatment of you made sense. You still wanted to throttle him but there was a part of you that felt him.

A short knock on your door and what sounded like a note slid under the gap of your door. Azriel went to retrieve it, handing it to you with a letter opener. You sliced it open, it was a letter from Eris, informing you of the ball your father was hosting tonight in your and Azriels’ honor.

Azriel was expected to arrive in the Autumn Court tonight and clearly to make an appearance at the ball. You couldn’t remember the last time you attended a revel, it was sure to be interesting and you had to admit to being excited in seeing the shadowsinger in that setting. The fact that it was your family hosting it wasn’t ideal, however, it seemed to be the only time the people of Autumn got to enjoy themselves.

“We are to attend a ball this evening,” You handed the opened letter to him your fingers brushing. You were keenly aware of how much contact you were making with him.

He placed the letter down on your writing desk by your door, he opened your wardrobe, you didn’t realize he had a black bag in there. He unzipped it and pulled out his knives, strapping them to their sheaths on his body. “If you need a weapon don’t hesitate to take any from in here. I’ll be back in time for the introductions.”

With that he faded into his shadows, winnowing away to his mission.

~~~

You slowly made your way down the steps to the ballroom, it had been dressed to fit the occasion. Dark velvet colors, gold trimming, all autumn-themed colors. A feast of food laid out on the tables that lined the walls, servants waiting on stand-by to serve. Those who were at the meeting had brought their families, villagers from the market were invited, it was a large party that you hadn’t been a part of in a long while.

Unfortunately, you knew that once a certain hour came, the families will depart and the revelry will truly begin. Strangers would be found the next morning on the ground, still drunk on faerie wine or other worse scenarios you didn’t want to conjure up in your mind yet.

You were late to the main introduction, not that it was needed but Beron like Rhysand (as you’ve witnessed in the Court of Nightmares) liked to make a show and parade his children to the crowd.

You felt a tug come from somewhere deeper into the crowd, a certain coldness around your ankle, you couldn’t see what it was even if you wanted to. You wore a long red off-the-shoulder satin lace ball gown, courtesy of Beron. The servants brought in the dress as soon as they were down making up your face with dark kohl around your eyes and a red rouge, and dressing your hair down with two strands that framed your face and two thin braids that met in the back of your head, held together by a ruby hair clip.

He wanted to show you off to the Court, show them the daughter (he couldn’t care less about) that was their princess, you were home and it would give them someone to celebrate.

As soon as you entered the chatter around you paused. You didn’t expect to be greeted the way you were, bows and curtseys to your feet were given as you passed and stopped when you reached your father.

At his throne, beside him your mother was sitting, Beron had his hand in hers no doubt halting her from going to you. You curtseyed as low as you could, knowing it would please him, maybe if you did things his way just this one night- he would let you speak to your mother. He waved his hand lazily, careless of your efforts, and signaled for the music to continue.

That was when you went in search of the spymaster. It was surprisingly hard to find him, even with the invisible force that drew you to him as a moth to a flame, the females that had formed a line around him hid him better than his shadows could. You stifled your laughter as you saw his fluster. There was no doubt he could get the attention of any female he wanted by just a look- though you would never tell him that aloud- you were puzzled by the sudden shyness.

The cold whisper came back, this time around your neck beckoning you his way. You conceded and made your presence clear to the females around him, they cleared a path for you, not daring to get in the Princess’ way.

You could sense their lack of hope when you reached your enemy, not that they knew you had no interest in him and that they could have him. Part of basked in the fact that for now, at this moment, he was begging for you to save him.

“Enjoying yourself are you?” His jaw was set a look of annoyance in his eyes.

“Quite so, yes. They appear to be fond of you.” You teased.

He grimaced, “They wouldn’t be if they knew what I was up to just two hours before this.”

“Sounds like it would be an interesting story then,” You held your hands behind your back and peered up at him eager for him to give you the details. “Do tell.”

He shot you a look that you knew meant he definitely wasn’t going to tell you what you wanted to hear, especially not in front of guests. His arms were folded, completely guarded, he wasn’t at the Night Court but he was entirely vigilant for any sign of a threat.

You sighed, “Do you ever have fun?”

He gave you a side-eye. You scrunched your nose up at him in response, which got him to lessen the harsh lines on his face. “It’s a party, Shadowsinger.”

His tone was quiet as it always was, but somehow even more so, “You know it’s not just some party, Y/n.”

You gave out an exasperated breath and rolled your shoulders, “I just saved you from the clutches of bloodthirsty females and this is how you repay me?”

“Your court, your people, your problem.” He shrugged.

“First of all no to all of that,” You glanced at the refreshments table where you longed for a drink but your brothers were surrounding it like sharks. “Second, I’d be most appreciative if you brought me a drink, I’m parched and though I may regret this comment later- you’re the only one I trust to bring me an unpoisoned drink. Nor do I think they would dare poison you.”

His gaze softened as he walked to the pool of sharks without question.

~~~

A circle of fae was created to make room for dancing the quadrille, though you weren’t fond of where you were currently and the dress made to prove you were owned by your father, you clapped along and laughed with everyone. You watched in amusement as a little girl twirled around the couples, strategically maneuvering through, giggling as she went.

You paused mid-clap, your smile fading as you saw the girl about to faceplant into the ground. Panic struck as you saw Eris catch her from tripping, he held her tiny wrist and spun her around once sending her on her way. He straightened his lapels and his posture, heading in your direction. You prepared yourself for what would most likely be an interesting interaction. Azriel who took it upon himself to be a sort of bodyguard for you in the truce you both agreed on, went to the washroom, so you had no comfort.

“Allow me a dance?”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he pulled you into a respectable distance, a hand on your waist and the other in yours. The position was familiar as he was the one who gave you dance lessons when you were as young and loved as the girl he’d just saved. A light tune played by the string quartet was in the background as you routinely flowed around the ballroom.

“The dress compliments you, Sister.” Eris took both of your hands in his and pushed you outwards then inwards, giving you a twirl, and stopped to where your back was to his chest, swaying to the right and again to the left. He spins you again to his front, “You’ve gotten better.”

“You look quite stately yourself, brother.” The name tasted bitter in your mouth but if he was behaving, so would you, there was a show to be put on anyhow. “And what with how seriously you took my education in the waltz, how could I not?”

He looked almost proud at how you’ve kept up, a deep part of you preened at the thought. Others who were on the floor struggled to keep up with the pace you and your brother had set.

“He won’t allow you near her until you bring him what he wants,” He whispers in your ear. Of course not, you school your features to hide your furious thoughts. Your mother was your only weakness, the only kind soul who loved you and your brother, Lucien.

Azriel wanted to capture and deliver the ‘escaped prisoner’. You weren’t going to let him do it on his own in the first place, this only gave you more reason to disobey the orders that he had conveyed. You would find a criminal as you always had and lure him into a trap, one you would have to figure out later and deliver him to your father.

Your mind wandered as you floated through the rest of the dance. With a final bow to your partner, Eris spoke softly as he passed you “He hasn’t stopped admiring you since you walked into the room.”

You whipped your head around but he was gone, worming his way around the excited bunch of fae by the refreshments.

The song had ended and a longways dance was set up, more people joined making a long vertical line from the throne to wear the door was. What shocked you was that Azriel had joined on the male side of the line, you kept your position, and you knew the surprise was written all over your features.

A barely visible smirk whispered on his lips as your bodies passed each other in the first line switch, your backs turned, and your hands found his as you moved to the music. You hopped along with the other fae, switching partners and giggling as you went. The same pattern sequenced; facing your new partner, right wrist barely touching theirs then your left- switching sides with a turn, footwork with energetic hops, pulling in-pulling out, and moving on to the next.

It happened twice more before you were finally met with Azriels beautiful face. Your chest heaved from breathing heavily, and your heart raced, pounding like horses running in an open field. You felt euphoric from the air, the dancing, the energy- him. No, not him. You quickly shut down those thoughts.

“Are you alright?” He stepped in your direction.

You took a step back, nodding your head with enthusiasm. “I’m amazing, I didn’t know you could dance.”

He didn’t look convinced by the state of you, he placed a hand at the small of your back and guided you away from the crowd. “Hardly.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” You teased further.

With the way his gaze held yours, you suddenly couldn’t find yourself making eye contact with him. Your corsets felt like they were suffocating you, “I’m going to go to freshen up.”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you fled. You wanted to see your mother, she was the only person who could tell you what was wrong with you, the only person you could trust. She was granted leave by your father and escorted out of the ballroom before your dance with Eris.

You wandered along the halls, assuring your steps were quiet but with every corner, you turned you felt yourself being followed. You tested your theory by going the long way to your mothers' chambers, whoever it was that was pursuing you either didn’t care that you knew they were following you or is just plain lousy at their job.

You took a right and attached your back to the wall to catch your stalker off guard, hoping to gain an advantage. You heard the heavy footing of your pursuer and went in for the attack only to be slammed onto the wall opposite where you posted yourself.

“You forget where you learned all your tricks, Y/n.” Your second eldest brother sneered close enough to your face you could smell the faerie wine on his breath. He held your left wrist in a tight grip behind your back. You bared your teeth at him as you inched your other hand to the dagger you had hidden under one of the layers of your skirt.

He tsked in mock disappointment, “You know you’re not allowed near her. For someone who acts like they're smarter than the rest, you don’t seem to think.”

“It’s awfully bold of you to question my wits,” You tilted your head to the left.

“You came back for a reason” He glared suspiciously, “Are you here to take your revenge? Is that why you’re with them, with him? You’re going to finish us off with the executioner you brought with you and end us all.”

“What are you going on about?” You had no clue what wild insinuations your brothers or your father held in their small brains, you supposed you should be glad that they were so far off the true reason for your appearance.

If he wanted to be paranoid about you wanting to take revenge for his maltreatment of you when you were a child, then so be it.

He pulled you from the wall and slammed you against the wall so fast your neck bent back enough for your head to hit the stone. “Answer me!” He shouted.

You managed to grip the tip of the dagger’s handle, and with a flick of your wrist, you sliced the knife against his abdomen. He let go of you if only to observe his wound, you cut deep enough to draw blood, lots of it.

“You bitch!” He growled and lunged for you, yet he never got the chance to touch you.

A shadowed figure with great big wings had knocked him to the floor, Azriel held a lethal aura, he lifted your brother by the collar of his shirt and had him against the wall the same way he had you, except, his forearm was pressed against his throat. His tone in every way threatening, the murderous fury in his hazel eyes meaning every word.

“Touch my mate again and I will kill you.”

Mate.

Betrayal, pure betrayal you didn’t deny yourself, you didn’t hide your thoughts from him. You let it show in every line of your face, every movement of your body. You took several steps back, disbelief was the one true emotion that didn’t allow you to process.

“Y/n-”

“No, don’t come near me.”

He was overwhelming you with his scent, everything about how you were recently feeling around him now made sense. All your senses came into place the night you touched for the first time. Now all you could think about was; how long had he known. Why would he keep this from you? When did the bond snap into place for him?

You left him standing there with your brother who was frozen with fear. You turned your back on him and went to find your mother.

The guards standing post at her door reluctantly let you in, she was sitting in front of her balcony, just now removing her jewelry. At the sight of you, she dropped everything and opened her arms, receiving you in a hug.

~~~

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skriveting · 1 year

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A bunch of different dialogue prompts #74

"Get that thing out of here! I don't want that!"

"You have to do your part, sweetheart. This goes both ways."

"If I can get it in pink, I want it in pink."

"Tell us a fun-fact about yourself." "Here's another idea; Why don't you just tell me to shoot myself? It'd be less painful."

"How, exactly, is this my fault?" "How is it not?!"

"Look upon my kingdom and quake!" "I mean, it's a nice studio apartment, for sure."

"Bro, this party is about to go off!" "How so?" "They got a charcuterie board!!" "Oh, sick!"

"I'm more of a glass half-full type of person." "Mhm. And what's in the glass?" "Poison. Why?"

"How can I ever repay you?" "If you could stop whining so much that'd be nice."

"What's that smell?" "... acid?" "Success." "Oh."

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immortaladrien · 10 months

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when the villain actually had a loving, supportive childhood and it’s the hero who comes from massive trauma 💕💕

#enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #enemies to found family #enemies to allies #like #ugh #angst #writeblr #promps #villian x hero #writers on tumblr

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inappropriatepeacesigns · 1 year

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I have just had a stroke of genius

Enemies to lovers, fake dating is out. Enemies to found family, fake family is in.

Hear me out

A group of friends decide to go on holiday together to somewhere really expensive right. They realise that they can get a family deal where families get discounts on flights and stuff. (Don't know if there are family discounts but shhhh go with me on this)

They decide to commit to the bit and pretend to be a family. Like these two will be the parents, this is the moody teen and these are the annoying children etc.

But they book this two years in advance and during that time they all fall out. They hate each others guts haven't spoken I years but they already put the down-payment on this trip and they're going to Mexico Goddammit.

So they all have to pretend to be a big happy family in public and learn everything about eachothers fake characters in the fake family but then they actually end up learning a lot about each other.

Hijinks ensue where their flights get delayed and then their car breaks down and they're basically stuck in close proximity to each other for hours. They eventually become found family through this and everything ends up great.

Bonus points if there are two ex-lovers who have to pretend to be family in front of strangers but have a passive aggressive secret argument while trying to play it off as family squabbles.

#writing #story prompt #story ideas #found family #fanfic #fanfic prompt #fanfiction #forced proximity #enemies to lovers #enemies to found family #friends to enemies to friends to lovers #fake dating #fake family

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winterwells · 11 months

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Major Ego Death (Eater) Chapter 8- Ego Loss (Part VII) Dramione Fan-fiction

"Fuck me," groans Draco feeling ragged as he returns to consciousness. His limbs feel heavy as he moves to his side and reflexively reaches over. "What the fuck," he says in shock when he's met with the soft curves of a bushy-haired witch asleep right next to him. "Fucking fuck, Granger, what the fuck?" he snaps, yanking his arm back. "Take me to dinner first, fuck," he huffs in confusion, wondering what the fuck happened the night before as the witch blinks her eyes open.

"As long as I can come too – I'm starving," comes a manly voice from the other side of the bed. Draco jolts as he pushes into a seated position and slams his back against the headboard.

"What the actual fuck?" says Draco in horror to see Ron fucking Weasley comfortably lying beside him in the bed as well. "This – what? What the fuck?"

"Never thought I'd say I'm glad to have you back, Malfoy," laughs Weasley as he sluggishly moves off the bed.

Draco looks around in confusion as Granger also pushes out of bed. Both Gryffindor's still wearing the clothes from yesterday while Draco quickly pulls up the blankets, realising he's in only his pants. "EXPLAIN," he says, still horrified and not understanding a fucking thing that's happening and hoping to Morgana the Order isn't also some secret sex cult that he's finally been initiated into under some seriously dubious circumstances.

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tomb-bloom-noctem · 10 months

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How do I say "I really want to explore what a close friendship or genuine found family relationship between Sonic and Shadow would be like (ideally trying to stick as close to in character as possible but also understanding there may need to be a little wiggle room provided to make it work.) And I have literally desired this since I was a child and I've never seen anything like it so I'm gonna do it myself." Without sounding like I'm trying to be anti Sonadow or "wHy cAn'T gUYs jUsT bE fRiEndS aNYmORe!?!?!?"

Maybe this is more of just a twitter problem but when I say over on that hellsite that this is a dynamic I wanna explore or to see if anyone else ever has, I always get hit by the sonadow fans for trying to attack their ship or accusations of being homophobic when all I said was I'd love to explore a different potential form of relationship between them. Sonadow isn't my favorite ship but come on. I don't hate it. I'm not interested in this just to spite the shippers. I just genuinely want to explore this route it's interesting to me.

(If anyone got any recommendations that fit this please send em my way I'd love to read them)

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #the found family trope #rivals to friends #enemies to friends trope #enemies to found family #fanfiction

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 6 months

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D.E.A.N (Division of Extreme and Atypical Neutralization) - Cast Pictures

Fandom : Original Work

Whumptober 2021/2022/2023 Submission

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here.

Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here.

D.E.A.N, also known (or, more fittingly, unknown) as Division of Extreme and Atypical Neutralization, is not part of the police, military, Secret Service, or any other defense and tactical agencies openly acknowledged by the government, although it does include expertly trained personnel from almost all of them. Among those personnel is Marcus Hayden, a young and promising graduate of a highly specialized federal agency training, surreptitiously plucked and dropped into the division—only with the knowledge that D.E.A.N agents have full legal immunity to take down whatever national threat is assigned to them in any way they see fit. Following the demise of his mentor, Mark embraces that freedom and privilege to the fullest extent, destroying any and all rigorously-approved target of D.E.A.N. Even the ones with non-threatening appearance, like the young man left behind by D.E.A.N's current target—a criminal syndicate called Helga—when Mark's team raided one of their many hidey holes. But is he doing the right thing? Is that young man really the target he should be focusing on?

I've finally managed to curate an ensemble cast that looks the closest to what I have in mind when writing the story. Of course, there is just no way I can find people exactly like the ones I have in mind when writing the characters because these characters simply just don't exist in real life, so I can't take pictures of them. I also can't do art to save my life so I can't draw/paint them either. I was thinking about using AI like Artbreeder but I'm kind of iffy about any type of AI right now, so this is the best I've got so far.

Also, this is just my vision. If you imagine someone else when you read about any of the characters, that's okay too. It's up to you, really. These "cast" are just my interpretation of how the characters look like.

CHARACTERS TRAITS AND IMAGES

Nikolai/Nick - Whumpee

Tall (6’2”), 21 years old (as of book 1), mixed-raced (Russian-Vietnamese), short black hair, really thin, mix of blue-brown eyes (sectoral heterochromia). Traits: kidnapped victim and traumatized, kind of obedient but has trace of arrogance and defiance that show up randomly. Cast: Ian Sharp Pic 1 Source from Hermès Fall 2015 RTW Menswear Show | Pic 2 Source (but the link is defunct) | Pic 3 Source (Edited to have a mix of blue-brown eyes, closest real-life person to look like Envy from Demon's Haven—courtesy of @whumpwillow which is my original vision of Nikolai)

Marcus/Mark - Whumper turned (probably) romantic caretaker

Tall (6’4”), 23 years old (as of book 1), white, short blond hair, dark blue eyes, muscular build, masculine look. Traits: righteous and impassioned (sometimes also a bit rash). Cast: Scott Eastwood (but younger) | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

Luke - Whumper turned caretaker

Tall (as tall as Mark, give or take), late 20s, former Marines, African-American, medium-length afro hair, muscular but lean build. Traits: firm and wise (probably should be the commanding officer). Cast : Busola Peters | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

Horace - Whumper turned caretaker

Tall (not as tall as Mark though, around 6' to 6'2"), early 40s, Army veteran, Latino, short dark hair, muscular but lean build, clean-shaven. Traits: team's commanding officer, but doesn’t have backbone and a bit of a pushover. Cast: Nicholas Gonzalez | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

Lena - (Not really) whumper turned caretaker

Tall (5'10" to 5'11"), mid-20s, white, non-binary, long brunette hair, brown eyes, muscular but lean build. Traits: very kind and patient but would fuck shit up if pushed. Cast: Ethel Cain | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

Don - Whumper turned (not really) caretaker

Mid-height (±5'9"), mid-40s, Navy veteran, white, bald, stocky muscular build. Traits: ruthless, cynical, and a bitch. P.S. I really can't find anyone who fits my vision when it comes to Don's appearance except that guy from vine on a scooter doing drift to careless whispers.

Anna - Whumper turned (not really) caretaker

Short (kinda, ±5'2"—5'4"), early-30s, Air Force veteran, white, short brown hair, muscular but lean build. Traits: cynical and a bitch too, but righteous. Cast: Claire Foy (with brown eyes) | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

Angie - (Not really) whumper turned caretaker

Mid-height (±5'6"—5'7"), mid-30s, former SWAT, white, short blond hair, a bit "Karen-like" style, muscular build. Traits: impersonal and logical centrist. Cast: Abby from The Last of Us 2 | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source (Edited to look more blond and older). P.S. The mocap actress (Jocelyn Mettler) doesn't look exactly like what I have in mind when it comes to Angie's look, so I keep using the Abby character instead.

Anderson - Whumper turned (kind of) caretaker

Mid-height (±5'9"—5'10"), mid to late-20s, former FBI, Mediterranean, medium-length curly black hair, lean build. Traits: a smartass and confident (almost arrogant) asshole. Cast: Joshua Honecutt | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source (Edited to have darker hair)

George - Non-whumper turned caretaker

Mid-height (±5'9"), early 20s, white, red-haired and freckled, slim build. Traits: quiet/wallflower-y. Cast: Maksymilian Barczak | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source | Modeling Agency Page

Mary - Non-whumper turned caretaker

Mid-height (±5'7"—5'8"), mid-20s, former Air Force, white, feminine pale face, long strawberry-blonde hair, slim build. Traits: quiet/wallflower-y too. Cast: Chloe Grace Moretz | Pic 1 Source | Pic 2 Source

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becomingthevlillainsfamily · 3 months

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Villain x Hero

The scattered rays stroked her hair gently and twinkled upon her minty hair, sparkling them beautifully in the moonlight. A gentle breeze pulled her hair back, giving it a twisted look as if someone was pulling it back, but none of the bystanders cared, it would be more correct to say they didn't noticed anything except the hero standing in front of her. "Stop it" she murmured, thr corners of her mouth crunching down into an annoyed look, her hair which was being pulled back by an invisible force fell down hitting her back gently. Her eyes travelled upwards, focusing on the pearl like moon which was tangled between the trees, Her ruby eyes gazing at the magnificent vision, distorted turning into a bloody battlefield. "Move" a strong force pulled the chains dangling around her wrist, "Ah i forgot that you were escorting me to the prison" she pulled her wrists up glancing at the metallic hand cuff which she was adorning on her hands. "Shut up" an angry voice leaked from the boy's lips, "Quite short tempered for a hero" she laughed. The boy did not respond instead he pulled the chains tightly, making her almost bump into him. She slithered backward, gritting her teeth tightly "Stop it Leon" the corners of her mouth twisted up this time fuy annoyed at his erratic behavior. There was a slight bruise on her pale wrists, but it didn't matter to he. He glanced back at her, his face devoid of any expression, "That's scary" she mocked her gaze fixed at his stoic face as she slowly ascended the car.

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astaldis · 6 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Words: 1,111 Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Cahir Mawr Dryffyn aep Ceallach & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Geralt of Rivia & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher), Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon Additional Tags: Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, REGIS IS THE BEST, Regis saves the night, The Hansa | Geralt's Company (The Witcher), The Hanza, some sexual content, Non-con Elements, Spooky, the magical effect of herbal tea, warmth, Friendship, Enemies to Friends, Post-The Witcher (TV) Season 3, spooky smubbles

Summary: "Kiss me!" she orders, her emerald green eyes gleaming with lust. However, it is not lust of the kind you would expect when you are told to kiss the girl - no, the princess. It is blood-lust her eyes are shimmering with ...

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51356254

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selenekallanwriter · 1 year

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#enemies to lovers trope #enemies to allies #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to found family #enemies to soulmates

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years

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Fire On Fire: Chapter 7

(Ch. 6), (Ch. 5), (Ch. 4), (Ch. 3), (Ch. 2), (Ch. 1)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: In the immediate aftermath of the D-Day jump, Alix navigates confusion + carnage with an unexpected ally and Lewis Nixon confronts the frustrating realities of mentorship. WARNINGS: Death, War stuff, Gentle bullying Dedication: To my dear friend Poet who tirelessly puts up with me & my ramblings. Thank you for believing in my writing when I couldn't even believe in it myself.💖💖💖 Taglist: @latibvles (...)

Contemporary: June 6th, 1944. Normandy, France.

As jump conditions went, it could hardly have been worse. The wind was brutal, howling in Alix’s ears like a banshee as it sent her lurching off-course like a ragdoll being tossed across a playground.

The initial prop-blast as she'd jumped had snapped the chin-strap on her helmet like a twig and she knew it would only be a matter of time until it fell off.

Tracers whizzed past, lighting up the sky as they went, the bright streaks like sparklers missing her by mere inches, and she tensed in a vain effort to avoid them as she drifted precariously earthwards.

All around her, the night sky was dotted with fellow paratroopers and Alix strained her eyes, desperately trying to locate any familiar frames but she couldn't tell who was who in all the chaos.

After what happened to her brother at Pearl Harbor, she'd stopped going to Mass but even still, she mumbled a prayer for the others: for Joe, Skip, and Don, for the rest of Easy, begging whoever was listening to keep them safe.

In the distance, fire and smoke spiraled across the sky as a dark shape hurtled down toward the ground at break-neck speed. It collided with the Earth with a booming noise, sending flames erupting over rows of what she could now see were fields of crops.

Clutching her bag to her body with white knuckles, Alix wondered if that had been one of their planes now engulfed in the inferno below…

No. She pushed the thought out of her mind as quickly as it had entered. She couldn’t afford to think about that. Not now.

The Earth was rushing up at her faster than she'd expected– she hadn't even noticed her chute opening– but as soon as she touched down, Alix knew something was wrong.

Instead of solid ground beneath her, she found herself sinking rapidly into a marsh, her boots already disappearing under the brackish sludge with a squelching noise.

The mud was halfway up her calves now but its pull was so strong and her gear so heavy that she could scarcely lift her legs.

Fighting to keep herself from panicking, Alix began scrambling to remove all unnecessary equipment, starting with her heavy gloves so she'd be able to handle things quicker. Tracers continued to light the sky overhead like nightmarish fireworks, illuminating the marsh in ghostly flashes of white and green.

Thinking quickly, she managed to free her Red Cross satchel and tossed it as far away from the water as she could.

It landed with a thump on a tiny strip of dry land a couple feet in front of her and she breathed a small sigh of relief.

At least the radio and her important documents were safe.

Realizing she'd already lost her helmet somewhere along the way down, she began to struggle with her parachute and reserve next, swearing under her breath as the muddy water surrounding her only continued to rise.

Just above her knees now, it was steadily creeping up her thighs. It would be at waist-height in no time and she would soon be dragged under completely by the weight of her gear.

Reaching down into the brackish swamp-water, she groped desperately for the knife she kept tucked into her boot. Yanking it up out of the mud with all her might, she hurriedly cut herself free from her accidental restraints before sloshing toward the edge of the marsh to grab her bag.

After cleaning her knife off and returning it to its sheath, Alix had almost made it out of the muddy water when she bumped into something solid. As she squinted to inspect it, she felt her stomach drop.

It was the body of a paratrooper, caked in mud and moss, floating face-down in the swamp water, the suspension lines of his parachutes wound around his head and neck like a perverse burial shroud.

His hands were clawed, fingers forever locked around the tangled cords like a vise in his final desperate attempt to loosen their fatal chokehold before the bog water had dragged him under.

Alix felt cold dread seeping into her lungs, chilling her worse than her sopping wet clothes.

What if it was Joe? Her Joe?

He had jumped right before her so locationally, it made sense he would have landed near her and the wind was bad enough to twist up the chutes. The drowned trooper was too tall to be Skip and too lanky to be Don, but he was built like Joe from what she could see-- thin and wiry...

Drawing her lower lip between her teeth as she bit back the twisting nausea in her stomach, Alix steeled herself to actually touch the corpse.

She needed to check.

She needed to know.

Taking a deep breath, she seized the dead man by the back of the collar and hauled him to one side with a grunt so that she could see his shoulder patch, bracing herself to see the Screaming Eagle that would identify him as 101st.

But it wasn’t there. Instead, clear as day, was a patch of twin A’s on a field of red, marking him as 82nd Airborne.

Alix exhaled, a sick sense of relief filling her.

It wasn’t Joe.

Leaving the corpse behind, the young agent grabbed her bag quickly and trudged onward, out of the marsh and into the darkness of the forest surrounding it.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Despite the roaring of plane engines above and the scattered pops of machine-gun fire in the distance, the forest itself was eerily silent.

No birds singing or rabbits racing around the forest floor, not even a solitary deer passing through— everything lay virtually undisturbed, save for the soft crunching sounds of pine needles bending under Alix’s boots as she walked.

Her eyes darted from tree to tree, searching each shape and shadow for potential danger, and her fingers hesitated just above the flap of her bag, where her loaded handgun was hidden.

She knew she technically wasn’t supposed to carry it openly– nurses didn’t carry firearms so it was a dead giveaway– but walking around empty-handed when there could be Krauts lurking behind every branch made her feel like a sitting duck and she hated it.

Oh what the hell, she thought, dipping into her bag to grab her handgun. This is war after all.

A sudden rustling in the bushes behind her made her glad she had and she whirled around, gun at the ready, just in time to see a tall figure tramp into view.

“Flash,” she hissed, gun barrel still pointed straight at him until she was sure he wasn’t a Kraut in disguise.

“Thund- Oh Christ, not you.”

It was Lewis Nixon or at least, it was supposed to be. The combination of leaves and pine needles clinging sporadically to his sleeves gave him the appearance of a giant, disgruntled vulture carrying a gun.

“Pleasure to see you too, Lieutenant,” Alix remarked sarcastically as she lowered her weapon and tried to stifle a smirk. "Aren't you supposed to be at headquarters?"

"I'm working on it," Nixon huffed, the cloud of his breath hanging in the frosty air. "My compass got pretty banged up on the way down when—" he began brushing off the assorted foliage attached to his person. "— I landed in a damn tree."

Alix nodded, pursing her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

"Well, lucky for you…"

She paused and dug around in her bag for a second before coming up with a tiny compass disguised as a shirt button, holding it up for Nixon to see. "I have this."

Now Alix wasn't expecting praise from her case officer, not by any means, but she certainly wasn't expecting him to snap at her like he did.

"I don’t need your help, Martinelli,” he responded tersely, his jaw clenched so tightly that it looked painful. "I know where I'm headed."

Alix put her hands on her hips.

What the hell did he have to be irritated about? She was trying to help.

"Sir, it'll be quicker this way," she maintained, waving the compass for emphasis. "So just use it and we can get going."

Nixon jerked his head back, brows snapping together.

"Who the hell is 'We'," he demanded. "There is no 'We'. I signed up to be a case officer, not a babysitter.”

God, did he always have to be this obstinate?

Alix fought to keep her tone level.

"The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we complete our objective," she said, forcing a smile through gritted teeth. "So will you please just use the damn compass?"

"I don't remember asking for your input, Agent."

Now he was actively trying to piss her off and Alix could feel it working.

The agent took a deep breath as she tried to restrain herself.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" she asked, her emphasis on the last word deliberately caustic, matching his tone.

"Permission denied."

But it was too late.

Before she could stop herself, Alix blurted out, "What the hell is your problem?"

Nixon’s expression darkened.

“Watch yourself, Martinelli," he warned.

But Alix was too fired up to stop now.

If looks could kill, Lewis Nixon would've been dead on the spot.

“Lieutenant, you've been trying to force me to quit for two fucking years now," she all but snarled. "Trying to break me mentally and physically so I couldn't get in the field. But guess what–" She gave a sarcastic sweeping gesture. "Here I am. I made it anyway.”

Nixon's intelligence training had served him well because her case officer had one hell of a poker-face. Despite his crossed arms, he was impossible to read which just infuriated Alix even more.

“Santa Maria," she swore, still gesticulating wildly with her hands. "You have had two whole years to be an asshole! Would it kill you to take tonight off so we can at least get where we need to be going?”

“For the last time, I know where we’re going,” he asserted with an exasperated groan. “And I can get us there without your help!”

“Sir, I don’t know why you hate me so much but we both have our orders, so whatever it is, you’re going to have to —"

The sound of boots crashing through brush behind them interrupted her and the pair both whipped around to see a man in a gray uniform and cloth cap charging through the bushes toward them.

A lone Nazi. He wasn’t heavily armed, by any means– no gun in sight– but the knife he was gripping sure didn’t bode well.

Nixon dropped to one knee, finger paused just above the trigger, waiting for a clean shot from his angle, but Alix was not in a patient mood.

Instead, she ran towards the approaching soldier, her heart pounding in her ears as she allowed him to get within five or six feet of her before squeezing the trigger–

Pow! Pow! Pow!

Blood spattered the nearby leaves like a fine mist and the German crumpled to the dirt with a dull thud, the knife clattering harmlessly out of his hand.

Just steps away from the body, Alix froze, the color draining from her own face as she watched the deep red liquid slowly blooming from under the soldier’s head and body like a morbid carnation.

The grotesque image of the bullets colliding with his skull played over and over in the agent’s mind like a macabre film reel. As the gunshots echoed in her memory, she had an epiphany.

One of the shots had been hers, she realized, but the other two weren’t.

So it must've been...

She looked back at her handler, Lieutenant Nixon, who had already shouldered his rifle and was stalking off in the opposite direction.

Pushing aside a branch, Alix followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his much longer strides, but he didn't slow down at all.

"Hey," she said, about to thank him for backing her up when he abruptly whirled around to face her, cutting her off.

"Blanche, what the hell were you thinking!?" he hissed, dark eyes blazing with barely-suppressed rage. "Running towards a Kraut like that with a fucking handgun, have you lost your mind?!"

Leave it to Lewis Nixon to turn a moment of gratitude into an argument.

“I got him didn’t I?” Alix snapped defensively. “A shot between the eyes on a moving target and all you’ve got for me is chastisement?"

"That's not the point," he hissed again, his fervent stage-whisper the only viable substitute for yelling in the field. "You could've been killed! What if he'd had a rifle?! What if there had been a sniper waiting nearby?! You're not even wearing a helmet, for Christ's sake!"

Nixon turned on his heel angrily, forging ahead once again when a thought came to Alix's mind.

"Wait, who the hell is Blanche?”

Nixon’s pace faltered and for a split second, he looked like an animal trapped in the path of a speeding car.

"What?”

“You just called me Blanche, I heard you.”

A myriad of emotions flickered across Nixon’s features but then it was back to his usual, inscrutable poker-face.

“Bullshit.”

Alix gave him a look.

"No, I definitely heard you say Blanche," she insisted. "And that better not be your wife because I refuse to be associated with anyone crazy enough to marry you."

Nixon made a face.

"Christ, no, Kathy is my wife. Blanche is my sister."

The spy cocked her head as she put two and two together.

"Wait…Is that why you've been trying to get me to quit the program all this time: because I remind you of your sister?!"

The corner of Nixon's mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.

"You remind me of her, alright," he replied as he ducked under a spiderweb. "You’re just as insufferable."

Alix rolled her eyes.

"You could've just told me, y'know, instead of being an emotionally-stunted asshole about it."

Nixon snorted derisively.

"Right, because that's what I'm best at: communication and emotional regulation."

Stepping over a rock, he muttered bitterly, "both of which are staples in the Nixon family household."

"Hey I'm just saying," Alix replied with a shrug. "I would've understood. My older brother–"

She cut herself off as the words caught in her throat but Nixon was courteous enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed.

“Don’t take it so personally,” he said nonchalantly as he ducked under a low-hanging branch. “I shut everyone out. It’s what I do best.”

“Not Lieutenant Winters,” Alix pointed out and she swore she almost saw a look of fondness cross Nixon’s face but he said nothing.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

As the pair continued their walk, their eyes roved their respective sides of the forest, scanning for potential enemies. Every shadow, every tree, every crack of a twig or shifting of underbrush needed to be carefully investigated.

Lieutenant Nixon, easily the more heavily armed of the two, took the lead while Alix followed just behind him like a shadow.

She had expected there to be more Germans where the one earlier had come from but there weren't. Thinking back on it, she wondered why he had no rifle, no helmet. Why he was running in what should have been the opposite direction of Nazi troops?

Then it came to her: He had been a deserter, not part of the larger group. He probably wouldn't have hurt them.

Guilt swirled in her stomach but a crackling of leaves above them interrupted her thoughts. Nixon's hand shot up, immediately signaling for Alix to freeze which she did.

"Flash," Nix whispered, lowering himself to the ground with his rifle trained at the noise, which was coming from a large Sessile oak tree.

He exchanged a worried glance with Alix before signaling, both of them thinking the same thing: Enemy sniper.

Wordlessly, the young agent shifted slightly to cover her handler's back in case another foe should appear from behind them and for what felt like an eternity, the only audible sounds were the distant rumblings of artillery from far beyond and the fearful thump-thump-thumping of her heart as she awaited the appearance of the expected Nazi sniper.

But it never came. Instead, from the tree's forked, top-most branch, emerged a small but extremely fluffy squirrel with flame-red fur and long, elfin ears that pointed heavenward. For a moment, it quietly regarded the two strangers below with its button-black eyes and twitching tail before scampering away again into the depths of the tree.

Relieved, Alix relaxed the tension in her shoulders and Nixon huffed as they continued their trek.

"Some sniper," the spy remarked with a nervous laugh. "But better safe than sorry, I guess."

"Well considering I'm responsible for you, whether I like it or not," Nixon snarked over his shoulder as they walked. "Forgive me if I'd rather not have your death on my conscience."

Realizing he'd said something almost vulnerable, he added quickly, "Besides, I've got enough paperwork to deal with without your death notification adding to it."

But he wasn't done.

"And speaking of your fucking death notification--" he deftly removed his helmet and thrust it into her hands. "Put this on. You never know when someone's going to try a pot-shot."

Alix cocked an eyebrow skeptically.

"Why? I haven't needed it so far. I didn't even notice mine was missing for awhile."

"Why? Because I care about you, you little shit. Now put the helmet on, that's an order."

Alix sighed but reluctantly put the helmet on.

"But what about you?" she asked. "Will you be okay?"

Her handler shrugged.

"I'll be fine. I can always grab another one when we get where we're going."

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The forest seemed to stretch for miles ahead of them, a never-ending sea of leaves and winding branches reaching out to them like arms as they passed.

And the deeper they plunged into the thick woods, the more terrifying the sights became. Dangling precariously from the treetops were the mangled corpses of several paratroopers, some swaying somberly as the breeze battered them back and forth in a morbid dance.

Nixon gave her a boost on his shoulders so she could climb a branch or two up to check their patches and dog tags.

"82nd again," she called down to him.

"Jesus," he panted as he helped her back down. "Not a single trooper from 101. Where the hell are we?"

As soon as she reached the ground, Alix fished the compass out of her pocket and instantly swore in Italian.

The needle had shifted in another direction.

They had gone too far.

From what she remembered of Welsh's navigation lectures, they would have needed to deviate from the path and change direction a good thirty paces ago.

She followed the compass’ instruction, beginning to backtrack as she waited patiently for the compass to correct itself.

"Where are you going now?" Nixon groaned, stopping in his tracks.

“We were getting off-course,” Alix informed him, holding up the compass again. “We needed to turn back there.”

"Bullshit," Nixon responded with a shake of his head. "According to our drop zone, we should've been right on track."

"Well we're not," Alix prodded, waving the compass. "We're off."

"How could we be off?" Lieutenant Nixon was indignant. "I plotted the maps myself! Don't be a backseat driver, Martinelli."

"I wouldn't have to be a backseat driver if you would just drive us correctly from the front," Alix griped.

"My calculations were on-point with the maps," her handler maintained defensively. "I should know, I helped plot them."

"Well your memory can be faulty, sir," Alix pushed just as stubbornly. "But the compass definitely isn't."

The pair faced off for a moment, each sizing the other up. Despite being at least six inches shorter than him, Alix glared up at her handler like a bull about to charge but he glared right back down at her.

There was a tense silence while both sides leveraged their options before Nixon pulled the metaphorical ace from his sleeve.

"I have seniority,” he stated with a smug finality, looking far too triumphant for Alix’s taste.

The younger agent put a hand on her hip.

"Are you seriously pulling rank right now?” She narrowed her eyes. “I swear to God, I should strangle you.”

“Oh please,” Nixon deadpanned. “You can’t even reach my neck.”

“You just pulled rank to win an argument,” Alix reminded him with an arched eyebrow. “You’ve sunk low enough for me to reach.”

“I’m quaking in my boots, Martinelli, truly,” was the dry reply and Alix was forced to concede.

Like it or not, he was her handler and even though they were a team, he did have seniority.

"Fine,” she grumbled, crossing her arms like a petulant child. “We’ll go your way. But if we end up waltzing into a trap because of your fucking hubris, I swear to God, I'll come back from the grave to haunt you myself."

With a small noise of satisfaction, Nixon turned and the pair returned back to their original path.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Two hours later and there was still no sign of civilization, no sign of their comrades, and virtually no moonlight. Alix found herself squinting in the ink-like darkness, desperately searching for landmarks in the cold but there were none. Every tree looked the same as the tree before it and she shivered, her clothes still frigid from the bog but at least they were no longer dripping water everywhere.

For the millionth time, she pictured the recon photos and sand tables she’d studied back in Aldbourne, praying for an epiphany but none came.

The only new developments were some stinging blisters on her left heel that grew more raw with every step and an ache in her right shoulder from the weight of the radio hidden in her Red Cross bag.

“'I plotted the map, Alix,' she mimicked sourly. “'I don't need your compass. I know where we're going.' Lieutenant, I told you we were going the wrong way before but noooo, somebody needed to be right.”

"If you don't shut up, I am going to leave you here," Nixon snapped, stopping his pacing long enough to give her an irritated look. "Once I figure out where the hell 'here' even is."

Alix pursed her lips but acquiesced, staring up at the sky in silent frustration as though the answers were written in the clouds somewhere.

“I don’t understand it,” Nixon muttered more to himself than to her, as he resumed his pacing. “We were right on track.”

“Here’s a bright idea,” Alix snapped in response. “Maybe next time, listen to the person with the fucking compass.”

"I don’t remember giving you permission to speak freely,” was the peevish reply and Alix gritted her teeth.

Even though he trained her, in the field, an agent and their handler should function as a two-man team. Nixon damn well knew that.

He was trying to push her buttons again.

She’d played this game with Giovanni when they were kids: who could irritate the other first?

As the younger sister, she usually lost.

One could only be poked and prodded and have their hair yanked so many times. But one day, taking pity on the baby sister he so mercilessly teased, Gio had told her the secret to winning:

If she couldn’t control her temper (and she never could), then the only way to win was not to play at all.

So making up her mind to ignore Nixon’s subtle dig at her, Alix just continued walking on, double-checking their progress against her compass all the while.

She made it all of two minutes before she broke.

“Look, can we dispense with the formalities already,” she burst out finally. “Seeing as we’re technically supposed to be a team?”

“Nah, I like the formalities,” Nixon replied easily, all the practiced pettiness of his Ivy League humor shining through. “I prefer an established hierarchy.”

“Of course you do,” Alix snarked with an eye roll. “Because you're the one at the top.”

Her case officer just shrugged.

“Touché.”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Another hour of walking passed uneventfully and Alix was beginning to feel like she was losing her mind.

Lieutenant Nixon had searched in vain for some basic topic of conversation at first to pass the time, but they were both too tired to make it past the weather and neither one wanted to delve into their complicated family lives.

"Can we not do small talk?" Alix winced. It reminded her of being dragged to teas and society events with her mother's social circle where she had to pretend to care about gardening and crocheting and other pointless activities while her brother got to go to the racetrack with her father. "I hate small talk."

Nixon shrugged idly.

"That's fair."

There was a silence and in a brief moment of delusion, Alix thought he might restrain himself from taking another crack at her but the slight hop in his step predicted otherwise.

Not even a minute later, true to her prediction, Nixon spoke, still keeping his eyes fixed on the path ahead despite the teasing smile tugging at his mouth.

"So you and Liebgott, huh? It’s about time.”

Alix felt her face heating up even in the dark at the suggestion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said lamely, still clinging to the thinnest possible veil of plausible deniability that she could.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, kid,” Nixon chuckled. “I’m paid to know things.”

Alix eyed her handler suspiciously.

Was he bluffing?

“How long have you known then?”

“How long have I known about what part?” he asked. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. Because I’ve known a lot for a long time.”

“Like what?

“Well," her case officer replied jovially with the same nonchalance that her mother used when gossiping with other society wives.

"I have it on good authority that you wouldn’t stop making eyes at each other during lectures about six months back so I kind of figured something was going to happen, especially when I heard about the both of you buttoning your collars up sky-high to hide hickeys. And then later, I heard that you two got walked in on having some…shall we say, extracurricular fun,” he snickered.

“Dick, myself, and Harry even had a bet going on when you'd actually go steady officially. Loser pays for poor Shifty’s shrink.”

Shit.

The mention of that night made Alix want to crawl into a hole and die. She didn't know anybody else knew about it, let alone her handler and superior officers, and she made a mental note to apologize to Shifty another thousand times whenever she saw him next for the mental scarring she and Joe had accidentally inflicted upon him months earlier by forgetting to lock the door.

“Need I say more?"

"No, I get the picture, thanks," Alix replied, wishing fervently that the ground might swallow her up before they reached their destination. "But how did you find out? Who told you?"

Neither Skip nor Don would have said anything, of that she was sure. She would stake her life on their loyalty.

And Shifty was still too deeply embarrassed about his role to utter a word about it to anyone either, so he was out.

That only left…the entire rest of the company.

Damn it.

“A good operative never compromises his assets,” Nixon responded sanctimoniously, with a grin so smug that it made Alix want to punch him. "Just know I have my sources and they're extremely reliable."

Alix flipped him off in response which only made him laugh harder.

We better find our way out of here soon, Alix thought in exasperation as she busied herself with the compass again. Before I commit a second unplanned homicide.

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xreaderbooks · 1 year

Text

All I breathe (1)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Language, mentions of abuse, trauma, and torture

Summary: After the events of the war, Y/n struggles to move on and find her place in the night court. All but one member has forgiven the past.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

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a/n: let me know if you want to be tagged for future parts, this was based on two requests that I got a while ago, I promised them that I would post this soon but it never happened but here it is literally a year later. Two requests merged into one. This is a enemies to lovers + other court reader x Azriel requested fic.

Masterlist - Series Masterist - Next Chapter

The family gathered around the dinner table, seating themselves in their respective spots. One by one- the clambering not stopping even as they sat, conversation echoed within the walls of the river house. Every Saturday; mandatory for everyone. Your position in the High Lord's inner circle was questionable.

Your fraternal twin brother was the unwanted mate of the High Lady's second eldest sister; and you? You've managed to gain a job as the night court emissary alongside Lucien, though you wouldn't exactly say you acquired the job yourself. Circumstances weren't so easily spoken of.

You took your place between Lucien and Nesta. The air around you was tense, not at all the influence of those around you, it was simply how you felt whenever you ate dinner with Rhysand's family. Quarrels between you and the night court have long been settled but for so long these people had been your enemy. While you held nothing against them except for maybe one of them, your remorse hasn't allowed you to move on from your past.

The burn of a stare from the person sitting directly across from you pulled you out of your thoughts. You lifted your head from the plate of food your brother served you and narrowed your eyes at him. You picked up your fork and rolled your eyes, focusing your attention back on eating.

~~~

He was a nuisance, a fly following the scent of your blood.

Seriously for someone who hated you so damn much, he truly does not leave you alone. You paced in front of the door of the war room before finally deciding to walk in, inconveniently as you did, the door opened. As someone walked out the door it slammed into your nose.

You let out a yelp, clutching your nose as your attacker swiftly moves past you. "Fuck!"

"Watch yourself," Azriel snarled. It was the only acknowledgment he gave you as he walked away. Somehow with your aching nose, you were able to catch his scent, it made you shiver, though you didn't know whether it was because of the slow subsiding pain or your body's natural reaction to preserve you from the shadowsinger's aura.

"An apology would be appreciated." You murmured. You reopened the door about to enter when you heard him.

"Perhaps if you weren't sneaking around this accident wouldn't have happened." His head was looking over his shoulder as he spoke.

"Last I heard, sneaking around is your thing, far be it from me to do your job." Your body's halfway through to the room on the other side of the door. "And I'll have you know my being here was requested."

You didn't wait for him to respond, letting the door close on its own behind you, you pressed your back against it and gently tapped your nose.

"Are you alright?" A voice rose from the middle of the room. You winced, forgetting what you were here for even as you were just talking about it.

You sighed, "Yes. A small incident, though I'm sure you already knew that."

Rhysand gave you a questioning look, "We sure it's not broken?"

"A broken nose definitely doesn't feel as okay as it does now," You made your way to the violet-eyed male who called upon you. The reason for your pacing and your almost-broken nose. He motioned for you to have a seat in the chair across from him. The awkward feeling crept in, this male was daemati which meant you'd have to build your mental block to keep your thoughts from being too loud and letting him into your anxiety.

"There's no need for you to worry Y/n," It was too late. "Why do you stress?"

His concern conflicted you, he should hate you. Your acquaintance was past hate but culpability ate you. "I don't, I'm fine."

"I noticed you were quiet at dinner, Feyre noticed."

"She didn't want to tell me herself that she noticed?" Your tone slipped into defense. In truth, you missed Feyre's company, you hadn't had a proper conversation with your new High lady since you made Velaris your permanent residence.

"She doesn't want to pry."

"And you do?"

"I'm your High Lord, it's my job to see that my people are faring well in my court."

"And are you?" You furrowed your brows, "My High Lord, I mean."

Rhysand chuckled, "Y/n, you are not your family. No matter the part you played when Feyre was trapped with that bastard." The bastard being Tamlin, the male who was the key component in your guilt.

Your fake husband for all intents and purposes.

"Knowing this," He continued. "Feyre has moved on, it's time you have to."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "There's just so much I feel I need to apologize for. I was wrong about everything, about you and your court. What you've built here is beautiful and I do not want you or Feyre to think that I am taking this for granted, all things considered."

"You have apologized enough. And all things considered, you are one of us." He gave you a small smile. "Now we have business to discuss, this will be a tough one but it's one that only you can do."

He explained the details of the assignment, you were to join Azriel or more like the other way around. To go to the Autumn Court, a stronger strain of fae bane had been created and word had come that it was traveling in the direction of that court. Dangerous as it is to go back to that court when you were living in the night court and no longer under Tamlin's protection, the world would be an even more dangerous place if Beron got his hands on the new poisonous plant. Azriel will continue his spy work while you, the 'distraction' of sorts will meet with your kin. Everything is to be kept under wraps, no one wanted to know what Beron would do with a dosage of a poison that strong.

Your position as emissary would ward away any suspicion and your presence absolutely distracting to the family you hadn't seen since the war had ended.

You cursed Lucien for leaving so suddenly this morning. He should be here and taking this job, you felt his absence completely, you were alone. You lived- temporarily- in a house full of people you once hated, now you were pretty confident you could call them friends and yet you were alone.

~~~

It had been a while since you were bait. Long before you joined the Spring Court with your brother, when you were still a girl and life could be perceived as happy, Eris and the rest of your brothers knew your beauty could capture men with even the strongest of wills. You were young and innocent and it was easy. They used you as a trap, a siren of sorts, to lure the men who had wronged them. Males who had committed all sorts of crimes and those who hadn't committed any at all. It had been a job that you weren't nicely compensated for.

Perhaps it was the only time you had received any compliments from your family at all, with Lucien being the exception. You were paid with the slightest amount of praise from your father and brothers and an unlimited amount of guilt for pulling in men to their deaths. With a less-than-decent monetary sum. They didn't see the need for you to have as much money as they did when you lived in the palace and this way you could be solely dependent on them. You would have no escape.

In the short time, you had with these men whether they were criminals or not, you mourned for them- the kind-hearted ones at least. You used to pray to the mother for forgiveness and with time you became numb.

That was until you had fallen in love with one of them.

You were the type of girl who had hopelessly believed in finding your mate, despite the fact that having a mate was a rare thing, that was proving not to be the case more often now. You couldn't possibly know what it would feel like to have the mating bond, but if what you felt for the boy was anything close to it, you don't know what you would do with yourself if you were to be so blessed.

If there was one thing you and your brother, Lucien, could relate to- is tragic love stories.

Your father loved his boys and your favorite brother but you were a disappointment. You were a spoiled child, always getting what you wanted with anything and everything you could ask for, with your gentle compassion no one could complain. As you got older, the threat of reality faced you, you were a female in a family of sadistic males.

Their love for you faded and soon you were a bargaining chip and if anyone tampered with the value of the one card they held that could gain them access to whatever and whoever, they would pay. And so the pretty baker boy who inherited his father's great debt to your family had to pay.

You didn't get the chance to tell him how much you truly loved him, you didn't even know his name. You didn't get to know any of the names of the males you flirted with to stop any form of attachment to them. It was for the best, you thought, it prevented you from acting in ways you knew you would regret.

You reflected on the traumatic events from your life as you packed. There would not be much, knowing your family they would have your wardrobe ready for your arrival. Weapons and equipment for your travels were what you needed, so far everything was accounted for and ready to go.

You mentally checked for everything you needed when a knock on your door pulled you out of your thoughts.

"How are things?" The youngest Archeron sister stood at the door frame.

"Good," You nodded, looking around the room for a hint at anything you might have missed. "Just finishing up."

An amused smile formed with an eyebrow quirk, "You do realize you leave tomorrow at noon?"

"I do, I just like to be prepared, that way I can sleep peacefully and possibly remember if I've forgotten something." You smiled softly, this felt normal. Like old times.

She walked into your room now, traced her fingers atop the furniture, and she paused at an iridescent music box. She picked it up and opened it, winding it up. "Reminds me of someone I know."

"What do you mean?" You eyed the box, knowing what it meant. During Feyre's time at the Spring Court, you were friends. As much friends as she and Lucien had been, even closer still. You tried to protect her from Tamlin in ways that you could but there was only so much you could do when you owed him your life. The music box was a comfort gift to her, things were getting complicated with Tamlin and they were about to get worse. You knew of this tune you heard once in a dream and had gifted the music box to her. She listened to it while she painted.

"Azriel. You both are so similar in the smallest ways, he's always ready for anything. Shame you don't get along." She pursed her lips.

You almost took it offensively when you remembered that this was progress, you and Feyre had spoken civilly, you apologized and begged for forgiveness, spoke some more and it was fine. But this was the closest it had been to how it used to be without the involvement of Tamlin. It didn't help that you noticed how true Feyre's words were.

You huffed, "Not my fault he's a prick and doesn't like me. I don't like him much either but I'd be willing to try if he didn't make it so godsdamned difficult."

"Yeah, he has trust issues-" She closed the music box once she was done observing it. "May I keep this?"

Your eyes softened, "Of course."

She pulled you into a hug, "Y/n, I know Az hasn't made it easy and it might not be obvious but I do trust you, a lot has happened since the past and you have long since redeemed yourself. Not only do I think so but the rest of them do too."

You squeezed her in thanks with shut eyes, willing the tears away. You had missed her friendship. It was a slow and agonizing process, moving to the Night Court in the middle of a war and getting to know the people Feyre had chosen. These people you grew up hating, the enemy whom you heard nothing but bad from time and time again from people who influenced your whole life. Then realizing why she had chosen them. These people were a family and nothing like what you've heard or expected.

It was a strange sight to see how naturally fun-loving yet powerful they are. It was taunting at first, how unbothered they were while you sat through dinners silently observing them. You didn't know if you would ever not feel like an outsider around them but eventually, after a long conversation, you and Mor had formed a friendship, and so had you and Cassian with the training you had decided to start. You and Rhysand were professional mostly, he's been trying to get you to be more at ease around him but knowing everything with his mother, sister, and Feyre- it was hard to let go of the fact that you were on the wrong side for a long time.

Now that you know you and Feyre were all good, maybe you could finally start to move on.

She pulled away and laid a hand on your cheek, swiping her thumb across your cheek, a sweet gesture. "You're gonna kill me."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

She eased you to sit at the edge of your bed, clasping her hands in front of her and clearing her throat. "You and Azriel are sharing a room in Autumn."

"What?" Your jaw dropped.

"It's either that or Azriel camps out in the woods nearby but that'll increase the risk of him getting caught and they don't know he's gonna be in Autumn at all at least not for the first few days-"

"Can't he just winnow back and forth?" You argued.

"You know that'll be a waste of energy you're not even winnowing there all the way, besides it's not so bad, hopefully, this will get you both to finally get to know each other."

"Spending the night with him is a waste of energy," You murmured. As if going to your hellscape of a childhood home wasn't enough.

A wide grin spread across her face, "Actually-"

You caught onto her amusement, "Nope. That's not happening- Gods, how long am I stuck with him?"

"4 nights. Not counting the night you will more than likely have to stay at dawn court, which reminds me we have to send word to Thesan." She said that last part to herself, zoning out slightly, no doubt communicating with Rhysand but speaking out loud.

"Does he know?" There's no way he'll ever agree, he'll get caught in the woods before he ever agrees to sleep in the same room as you. He avoids you at all costs and when he is around you his words are violent. They call him the quiet one yet his slick tongue is sharper than his knives whenever you're around.

"Rhysand is speaking to him right now," As if it were planned the house rattled at the slam of the heavy front door. You and Feyre flinched at the reverberating sound. You cocked your head and raised a brow. She winced, "He'll be fine."

~~~

You sat at the breakfast table witnessing the atrocity that was happening in front of you, your brother's mate was softly caressing the spymaster's arm, and they whispered quietly to each other. The only ounce of kindness you had ever seen the male with blue siphons was with her. It was irritating. Luciens mate was infatuated with your enemy, how comical.

You didn't know what to make of your High Lady's sister, she barely spoke to you kept to herself and sometimes to her sisters, Nesta was highly protective of her and so was Azriel. It was a bit bothersome when something within you told you there was more to her than the delicate demeanor she portrayed. You didn't care to find out honestly, what you did care about was Luciens happiness.

Not that Elain owes Lucien anything but seeing your brother chase and cater to her at any given chance was disheartening, she can't even give him the courtesy of rejecting the bond. With that maybe then he'd heal from the breaking of the bond. But she didn't reject him and you knew that gave Lucien hope, but as you watch the pair standing on the veranda, there was no none.

What you would have given to have a mate yet now you weren't so sure.

"Are you done?" A voice cut through your mind and suddenly you realize a tall sculpted figure was standing in front of you.

You set down the glass of orange juice you were drinking, before licking your lips and thinking of a response, only to ask "What?"

He rolled his eyes and took the seat diagonal from you, "Are you done staring?"

"I wasn't staring, I was trying to admire the view that you and the fair young maiden were blocking." You glared at him and slid out of your chair, grabbing your empty plate and glass about to head to the kitchen.

"Oh is that what that was?" He glared back.

"Yeah, and you know for someone who is supposedly one of the most powerful Illyrians in the world you seem pretty weak to me, Shadowsinger. Pining over female after female-"

He was out of his chair and towering over you in a flash with teeth bared, "Don't speak of what you don't know, Firewielder."

"I only speak of what I see," You stepped an inch closer though you weren't sure if it was entirely possible considering you were now breathing the same breath. "Tell was she praying for your safe return in her arms while you go off to war."

"What do you care, Vanserra?" He laughed bitterly, "I applaud you for being aware of how much you lack being worthy of any sort of affection. Is that why you frown at Elain so? because you know that unlike her you don't deserve to be cared for."

You felt the familiar burn in your veins, you were shaking from the restraint of wanting to hurt him. His height made you tilt your head up to look him in the eye, you hated it. He was too close and your neck strained from the height difference. Your eyes burned with hatred, he was the only member of the inner circle you truly believed was a monster from hell. His shadows flurried behind him, as restless as the flames you kept under control. You needed to get away from him to release your stress before you exploded but he wasn't budging away from the eye contact so you wouldn't either.

"What's going on guys?" Cassian's leaning by the entrance of the room, arms crossed chewing on an apple. "If you guys want to take out some of that tension and potentially kill each other there's a whole yard out front you could do that on, let's not disturb the peace of this household. Or if it's the other type of tension, do it the normal way and go upstairs."

You backed away from Azriel, storming off to the kitchen to dispose of the plate and cup.

~~~

Chapter 2

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