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illyrian-dreamer · 8 months

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Our Girl – Part 4

Azriel x Cassian x fem reader angst

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Word count: 7.3k

Warnings: Smut [18+, minors DNI]

You stared at the gold invitation, cursive writing announcing Cresseida to be wed in a months time. And there was your name printed, Y/N and partners. You had scoffed when you first saw it – maybe in another life.

You were chewing your lip, lost in thought on whether to attend or not. You knew at the least, Rhys and Feyre would attend the wedding – that meant seeing them. And word would surely spread of your work at Spring Court once you got to chatting to other guests – that would reveal your location.

“Whats bothering you, young spark?” Finbark asked from the kitchen, busy chopping vegetables as a pot of stew boiled behind him. He looked up briefly, spotting the invitation in your hand. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of not attending?”

“I don't want to risk what I have here.”

“Y/N, everything you’ve worked for is already yours. Your home here, your work, even your privacy, no one can take that away from you now, not even a High Lord or Lady.”

“I know, you’re right. It’s just… I've so enjoyed my little bubble away from everything that happened. Seeing them… they made me feel so small Fin, so helpless. I don't know if I can stand going through that again.”

“So much has happened since then. Look at all you’ve done, all you’ve accomplished. Thousands of fae, gods, even the entire damn court is mending thanks to you. You were never small, and you have proven that to yourself over and over again.”

A wobbly smile jerked at your lips, tears pricking in your eyes. He wiped his hands, leaving the vegetables to come cup your face, brushing away your tears.

“You cannot lock yourself in Spring Court forever, sweetheart. Don't punish yourself for their mistakes, expand your horizons, celebrate with friends that are equally yours as they are theirs. And celebrate yourself, you deserve that even more.”

You reached for your uncle’s rippled hand, holding it tight. “Thank you, Finbark. You mean the world to me.”

“And you me, young spark.”

So it was decided. You would attend the wedding, without any partners.

————

“Where are we going?” you called from Podie, Tamlin a few paces ahead on his own horse. He was leading you through a trail you weren't familiar with.

“For the umpteenth time Y/N, it’s a surprise.” He called back without turning his head.

You let out an audible sigh, to which Tamlin chuckled. You did your best not to admire his ass as he straddled a horse – it helped neither of you how handsome Tamlin looked in his riding clothes. You pressed your heels to Podie, coming to trot beside him.

“You should know I hate surprises,” you sang.

“Even the good kind? What a shame,” Tamlin responded, clearly not letting up on where he was taking you. You poked your tongue out, earning another chuckle.

It had been several months since your first dinner with Tamlin, and you had fallen into a comfortable pattern with the High Lord. You enjoyed a regular drink or meal together when your work crossed paths, and he had even consulted you on advice for his court, which flattered you. His company was a consistent pleasure, and you treasured the friendship you had formed – the Gods knew you needed it.

You managed to bite your tongue for another twenty minutes, and just as you were about to pester him again, Tamlin spoke. “It’s just up this trail.”

Pulling the reins of his horse, Tamlin led you down a steep path, hidden much by overhanging trees and bushes, only to reveal a clearing.

No, not a clearing – a field, blossoming with rows of carefully planted pink flowers. And as you got closer, the size of the field was revealed, bordered by a low wooden fence. It was… a farm?

You drew in an audible breath as the scent of the flowers hit you. You widened your eyes at Tamlin, who was grinning at your shock. You dismounted Podie quickly, rushing to brace the fence as you took in the site with awe.

“Wild Gernaium?” you choked, your eyes still wide.

“The healing flower,” Tamlin nodded. “It took a while to learn how to farm them, months in fact, but Spring has Prythians best botanists.”

“And here I thought they could only grow in the wild,” you shook your head with disbelief. “Tamlin, these are so rare, how on earth you were able to farm this many?”

“Spring Court is a land that gives back, the soil here is rich of nutrients and the weather forgiving. It is of course only something we were able to do, thanks to your mission work to help recover the land. This is your accomplishment as much as it is theirs.”

Tears pricked in your eyes then. The amount of fae that could be helped with this crop – it was an overwhelming thought.

“And they are for you, of course.”

You gaped at the High Lord, who laughed again.

“For me?”

“Of course, for your work. Whatever you need – farmers to pick the flowers, a factory full of workers to grind and bottle the pigment – say the word and it’s yours.”

“Tamlin, I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Please, don’t. It’s not a thanks I deserve, I’m just… trying to look out for my people. Just as you do.”

“Well… you’ve done a Gods damned good job,” you said with raised brows, blowing out a loose breath at the extend of the farm.

Tamlin threw his head back and laughed, and you grinned at his happiness. You reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “Nice work, High Lord.”

Tamlin squeezed your hand back. “It wouldn't be without you.”

He pulled on your hand then, leading you through the flowers as you admired the plants up close. He explained that a factory could be built at the farms edge, attached with a pressing mill and grinders. Your heart fluttered with excitement, your work could extend past manual labour, you could now offer medicine and healing. There was a force brewing inside you, something unstoppable and good, something that lay dormant for centuries, finally unleashed and free.

You still held Tamlin’s hand as he lead you through the field, making your way to a lush hill that overlooked the farm. You sat together, Tamlin listening contently as you excitedly spoke through your ideas on how to harvest the medicine, noting that your small growing team of mission workers could also help to distribute throughout the court.

“How many aid workers have you recruited now?” Tamlin asked.

“Seven, and we’re currently inducting Nyvya in the east. She’s a trained healer, so will be delighted to hear of the Gernaium.”

“That’s wonderful,” he smiled.

“It is,” you said warmly, and it occurred to you that you owed Tamlin a truth. An idea you were planning to run by him at a much later time. But with the offer of the Gernaium, the access to this kind of healing, that changed things. “It is,” you repeated almost flatly, chewing at your lip as your eyes fell distant, dancing with thought.

Tamlin caught the movement, and he frowned slightly as he shifted from his lounging position. “What is it?”

Your heart rose in anticipation – you felt sheepish. So you stared at him, deciding on whether it was in fact the right time.

“You can say it – whatever it is,” he said gently, taking your hand. Your silence lead him to start guessing. “Are you leaving Spring?”

“No, no I–”

“Because you are free to come and go as you please. I know my past behaviour speaks for itself, but I would hate to think that you feel trapped or–”

You grabbed his shoulders then, squeezing the muscle underneath. “Tamlin, gods I know that.”

The action seemed to stun him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. You felt a slight twang of guilt for drawing out such a distinct shame in him.

You took a deep breath, pulling your hands to your lap. “With the mission work expanding, along with my team, we have been able to help fae at the borders, some from Summer, even a few from Autumn.”

Tamlin nodded assuringly, a sign for you to continue. He didn't startle over the technicality of Spring members helping foreign fae – that was a good sign.

“And it felt good to help them Tam, they were isolated, and just as vulnerable as some of those in Spring.”

“Of course,” he said softly.

You had to take a deep breath, and your eyes found the horizon beyond the rolling hills around you.

“You know,” you spoke softly. “My ambitions to help and protect others, it has always existed beyond court borders.”

You could see Tamlin shift, before giving a slow nod.

“After talking with my team, we believe our mission work could gain traction in other courts, should they be willing. We could share knowledge, resources too if it was agreed, and provide aid across Prythian without being conformed to borders.”

You forced your eyes to Tamlin then, grimacing at what you might find written on his face. But it was just as neutral, his eyes soft, his jaw chiselled and handsome and – damn him.

“This is not the way I wanted to propose this to you Tamlin, please know. Especially after your generosity with the Gernaium, I understand completely if you have grown them purely to aid your own subjects. But that doesn't stop the need for mission work across Prythian. I plan to gain the support from as many High Lords and Ladies as possible, and I would be honoured if that started with you.”

Tamlin eyed you with those sharp green eyes, the kind of look that made you shift under the weight of it. And after an insufferable silence, he spoke.

“You are incredible.”

You blinked in shock, Tamlin’s lips pulling at your reaction.

“Truly,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to kiss it. “I have never met anyone who was to see a need as great as this, and think to grow it beyond borders. Magic anchors a High Lord or Lady to their Court, it makes us territorial and protective, violent even. But you, this,” he said waving his hand to you, before sighing, contemplating how to say what he felt in words. “You are what this world needs.”

Your eyes welled before two fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “Tamlin,” you chocked, unable to think of anything else to say.

He shifted closer, brushing the tears away with his thumb as he cupped your face. “You have my support Y/N. Thank you for teaching me to be better.”

Emotion surged through you, as if flushing you from years of doubt and hate, replaced now with inspiration, kindness and good, honest love. And then your lips were on his.

Taken aback, Tamlin caught himself on one strong arm as you held his face and kissed him. You pulled away, worried to have overstepped your boundaries. But then a strong hand laced around your waist, his other propping himself up as he leaned in, closing his mouth over yours, a sharp breath drawn as his nose brushed against your. Friendship, understanding, a blossoming love – how quickly Tamlin had welcomed you to a world capable of healing, of growth.

Every fibre in your limbs begged to be closer to him, to bask in the vulnerability he had shown you, and you him. In only half a year, you had grown together, healed together, and learned to love one another. You did, you loved him, for whatever he was to you – a dear friend, a High Lord, it didn't matter. It was equal, and genuine, and you craved it in every way.

Fuelled in by dizzy passion, you quickly straddled his lap, pulling at his broad shoulders to bring him further into you, letting him encompass your senses.

Tamlin’s own hands slid across your back, moving up to your neck, gripping at the roots of your hair, the other grasped at the flesh where your thighs met your hips.

He seemed to realise where this was heading, pulling away with a sharp breath through his nose. “Y/N–”

You shook your head, dismissing him immediately with another kiss, your tongue begging for entrance to his mouth. “Tamlin.” His name was a plea.

“Are you cer–?”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his question, peppering kissed in between words. “I’ve–never–been–more–certain.”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and goosebumps pricked at your skin as you felt it vibrate through to you. Your excitement peaked, it had been so long since you had shared yourself with another, and your core fluttered with anticipation as every fragment of you seemed to chant yes, yes, yes.

Which is exactly what you moaned as Tamlin entered you, your skirts pulled high, his riding pants pulled low. You placed a flat palm on his chest, your eyes clenched shut as you stretched around his girth, your walls already throbbing as you slowly slid down. Tamlin let out a stifled growl, one laced with satisfaction and a lot of restraint.

Strong arms hugged you then, and you began to writhe together, moving gently and sensually as you ground against each other. Chasing release was far beyond you, there was so much pleasure to be had in sharing your bodies, relishing in the trust you both had found in one another.

Tamlin did his best to keep a leash if his instincts, his beast form begging to be released and he grunted and growled when you moved your hips in a certain way, nipping at your neck and ear as claws now ran down your back. You ran your fingers through his hair, using it to guide his face to yours as you kissed him and fucked him how you pleased. His own hands moved to grip at your ass to do the same.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his deep voice breaking, strained with pleasure.

“Tamlin, gods, you feel–”

“So. Good,” he gritted, finishing your sentence. You leaned back, head thrown back as your hands found balance on his thighs as you rode him in the warm spring air.

Pleasure found both of you again and again in that afternoon. You climaxed on his lap, and not twenty minutes later he was pushing into you again, your bare thighs spread on the lush green grass as he moved above you. You clung together, a writhing, sweaty mix of passion and pleasure until the sun began to set over the rolling hills.

Tamlin reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours as you ate the last of the berries he had packed. He kissed your forehead before turning you to rest against his chest, not wanting you to miss the view.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your hair.

Stroking his arms that were tightly wrapped at your waist, you swallowed, debating on what to say. But no, Tamlin deserved the truth, you must always choose truth. You sighed , saddened by what was churning through your head after such incredible sex.

“I’m thinking we need to discuss what this afternoon means.”

You loved him, you did, but Tamlin was bound to his court, and your life called beyond it. It wouldn't work, no matter how much you cared for each other.

Tamlin knew this too. “What if,” he spoke softly, brushing your hair away from your neck so he could place a gentle kiss on it. “What if we enjoy this moment for what it is, just for today.”

You smiled, kissing his hands. “Tomorrow then.”

“Plenty of problems await,” he joked, and you laughed before settling further into him. You smiled cockily as you felt him harden against you. Tomorrow indeed.

————

One month later

Peering from the carriage window, your heart thundered in your ears, drowning out the clap of horses hooves as guests arrived at the summer estate, music floating gently from within.

Dawned in all colours, you watched guests gasp in awe at the beauty of the building. This was one of many of Tarquin’s estates - one you had never visited. It was an open, grecian style home, golden columns holding the impressive entrance carved with shimmering vines. Fae flocked in groups, sparkling wine already in their hands as they made their way to the gardens, no doubt where the service was being held.

“Are you alright?” Tamlin asked, the velvet of his deep green suit brushing against your bare arm.

“Uneasy to say the least,” you said thickly, your tongue stiff with nerves. “And you?”

Tamlin looked beyond the window, eyeing each of the guests. “One step at a time,” was his response as he squeezed your knee.

————

The curtesy wine offered to you at the entrance was gone within the first few moments of arriving. You wouldn't make a fool of yourself here, but a little wine to take the edge off couldn't hurt.

Tarquin stood proudly, wearing a fine turquoise suit detailed with gold thread, shaking hands as he welcomed guests.

“Y/N,” he beamed, taking your hands and kissing each of your cheeks. “I’m honoured you came.”

“The pleasure is mine, Tarquin. Thank you for having me.”

“Nonsense, both Creseida and I might have forced you here if you had not come willingly.”

You laughed freely. “How is she?”

“A wreck of nerves,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure she looks beautiful,” you laughed lightly back.

“She does, just as you do,” he winked, raising your hands he still held to take in your dress. A silken, soft blue dress fell of your body, its back open as material gathered just before your rear. The dressmaker had done an incredible job, fitting style and colour alike. You had politely declined her suggestions of a sage green, a Spring Court signature. It was kind, but you were courtless for over a year now, and proud of it. Instead, you had asked for sky blue – as no one ruled the skies.

Blushing, you let out another soft laugh. “You are too kind, High Lord.”

Tarquins eyes flashed behind you, catching Tamlin as he spoke with some familiars a few paces away. “Have you…?” he questioned, trailing off.

You smiled knowingly. “I’ve come alone. Tamlin and I shared a carriage, journeying from the same court. You remember of my work there?”

“Remember? Sweetheart, there is talk of your mission throughout my court. There are guests here who are very keen to meet you. And we will need to formally discuss your work, and give a proper thanks to the aid you have provided at the border.”

You were smiling wide now, shaking your head with gratitude. “I would like that too, but perhaps not here.”

Tarquin grinned. “No, perhaps not. Welcome, sweet Y/N, please enjoy the festivities, and accomodation.”

You smiled politely as Tamlin approached, exchanging a firm handshake before raising his brows at you. “Shall we head in?”

Nodding tightly, you let Tamlin guide you with a hand at the small of your back. At the very least, the warmth of his skin against yours was a small comfort.

The estate was even more impressive the further you ventured, white marble and golden staircases twisting this way and that, leading to corridors of rooms, each door carved to perfection. These were the guest accomodations, and included your own for the evening.

But the jewel of the home was its view, where a perfectly groomed garden now catered to almost a thousand fae, overlooking the crystal blue Adriatic, the waves beneath crashing the cliff quieted by the string quartet. It was an overwhelming beautiful home, and you were glad to be lost in a sea of guests.

A golden arch was set at the end of a the aisle, a High Priestess exchanging words with a groom you did not recognise. But you smiled – you were happy for Creseida.

“An impressive turnout,” Tamlin muttered, sipping his wine as his green eyes turned sharp, scanning the crowd. You ignored the glances being cast your way, whether it was from your attendance with Tamlin, or Tamlin’s presence alone, you didn't care. What did these fools know of either of your stories to judge.

And you tried not to look, to not let your heart beat fast as you scoured for a rare set of wings amongst the finery of the wedding, telling yourself you wouldn’t turn your heel and run at the site of any siphons or shadows or night. But you were thankful to not find any.

That was, until you felt them. Muscles jerking, goosebumps pricked your skin as your power began to tingle sharply, spreading across your body like a rash. Shit – you hadn't anticipated to lose your lid in such a way, your power had been so forgiving this past year.

A small gap parted in the crowd of guests at the stairs of the estate, and the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court were revealed. Arms loop, night curling around them in the fashion that impressed and threatened all at once. Rhysand shook hands with a nearby male, Feyre kissing the cheeks of a curtsying female.

It shocked you, how quickly your spy instincts found you. As if in one of your many life-threatening missions, your senses narrowed, the noise in your brain focusing to immediate details – taking in only what you needed to survive, just as Azriel and Cassian had trained you. Your vision barrelled to the couple who still greeted others some distance away. Scanning behind them, you anticipated the remainder of your old family, and of course, your exes.

Yet no one followed. Not even Mor. It seemed the High Lord and Lady had attended alone. It was strange – had things turned bad at the Court, that even the Morrigan had forgone a wedding?

Rhysand wore a handsome smile as he guided Feyre down the stairs to the garden, guests parting even further, bowing as they strode through. They were getting closer, and you ignored the clench of your heart as their scent filled your nose, before mixing with others. It was the smell of home.

No. it wasn't home. Not anymore, and not for a good while now. You hated that instinct, to curl into it, to let it welcome you, claiming you still.

You glanced behind, conscious that they would find you standing with Tamlin. But he was no where to be seen, and you thanked him silently for the courtesy of having stepped away.

Rhysand and Feyre glided closer and closer, exchanging nods and accepting bows. And then they halted, violet eyes scanning before locking to yours, grey eyes shortly followed. And Rhys’s smile, the one that he used in the face of the public, it softened, his eyebrows twitching upwards almost unnoticeably.

Feyre’s hand gripping at his arm tighter, and you could hear her heart fasten from where you stood. You almost resented how in-tune you were to them, these micro-behaviours.

Glancing between them both, you followed the order of those next to you, lowering yourself to a polite curtsy.

They couldn't reach you, not without drawing attention, not without the watchful eyes of hundreds of guests. So with a nod from Rhys, and a soft smile from Feyre, they continued on, finding their seats in the queues.

————

Cresseida was the most beautiful bride you had ever seen. Golden vines were cuffed along her arms, as a silk gown as white as her hair trailed behind her as she walked the aisle, Tarquin proudly at her side.

You smiled through your tears as she was married. You were happy for her– you were happy –you were… An unmarketable emotion filled you as you couldn’t help the run of tears that continued to pour, even after the ceremony ended.

————

“And is it true that you were able to help the children at the border?” questioned one of Tarquin’s emissaries as she leaned in, raising her voice over the music.

The party was in full swing, food had been served and hundreds of fae drank and danced, celebrating Creseida’s courtship, each of them eager to get even a glimpse at the bride and groom.

“Yes, we were lucky to have an experienced healer join the mission, and she was already aiding some of the fae in Spring.”

The female smiled, and squeezed your arm. “On behalf of my court, we are grateful.”

“Not at all,” you smiled back. “Your authorities were notified, and from what I heard your own healers were already on their way. We were simply closer to that area, and had supplies to spare.”

It had been hours, and your company was still in high demand as endless Summer Court members were eager to meet you. Tarquin, it seemed, had been spreading you just as much praise as Tamlin. You had danced with many, exchanging jokes and stories, enjoying the festivities with some familiar faces and many new ones.

It was a struggle to keep your eyes from averting, your instinct to find Rhys and Feyre in the crowd was loud and stubborn. Old habits, you supposed.

Tamlin approached you then, having made himself scarce from your company for most of the evening, something you both had agreed to do. But you were comforted by his presence as he easily slid into the conversation, slipping a glass of fae wine into your hand without even asking. You smiled, giving his shoulder a thankful squeeze.

There was an itchy, uneasy feeling that tugged at you, and you knew you were under watchful eyes. You found them, surrounded by their own acquaintances, and while Rhys masked his curiosity perfectly, Feyre’s stare bored into you from across the dance floor.

Taking a large sip of wine, you let it warm you as you squared your shoulders. You would not cower, you would not shy away. And now was a better time than any.

So you strode directly to them, Feyre’s stare softening as Rhys pardoned himself from his conversation. Then, they were walking towards you to.

You stopped a few paces shy from each other. Staring. It was…. awkward.

But then Rhysand smiled. Warm and genuine and familiar. You hoped he didn't hear your silent curse to him.

“You look well,” he said.

You nodded, acknowledging the half-compliment, sensing their relief. No, you weren't that broken withered girl you were when you left.

“How is Nyx?” The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them. You would have been more annoyed at yourself, but your care for that child was pure, and you knew they would never withhold him as currency.

“He’s well, growing every day,” Feyre replied. “And walking all on his own.”

Your smile, be it small, was sincere.

“He still… asks about you,” she added.

Pain sliced through your heart then, and you weren't quick enough to hide it in your face. “Don’t,” you whispered, your voice strained. Gods, that didn't take long.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre said quickly, hands reaching out before she quickly drew them back in. “I didn't mean–“ she cut herself short, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

You cast your eyes to the side, blinking away the sting of tears. “It’s alright.”

Rhysand watched you intently. “Perhaps we can all use some fresh air? I spotted a terrace, free from other guests.”

The choice was yours, you knew that. You had things you wanted to say, and you were sure they did to. You nodded, following their lead as you quickly cast a look backwards, Tamlin offering you a tight nod as you left the room.

————

“So, mission work in Spring?” Rhys asked, wine swirling in his hand as he leaned casually against a column, warm summer breeze surrounding the three of you as the party continued faintly below.

You nodded, your arms crossed at your chest.

“It’s very impressive,” Feyre added from where she sat, offering a genuine smile.

You didn't respond, unsure of how much detail to reveal. Rhysand caught on, sighing slightly.

“We didn't bring you here to interrogate you for detail, It’s only that your work and whereabouts is quickly becoming widespread knowledge. We thought it was best to acknowledge that we know it too.”

“And what of Cassian and Azriel?”

“We have held true to our bargain on that.” You believed him.

There was an award silence, unasked questions looming.

“Are you safe there?” Feyre asked quietly.

“Very much so.”

“And Tamlin is–”

“A friend,” you said quickly.

“– respectful to you, was what I was going to ask,” Feyre said with a knowing look.

You sighed then, running a hand through your hair. “I didn't do it to hurt you,” you said, with a straight face. You owed her no allegiance, but, you were done hurting others, and her concern did no one any good.

“I know,” Feyre acknowledged, with the grace of a High Lady, of someone who knew that the past was the past. She shook her head then, before adding. “We worry for you, that is all.”

“He’s changed.” You were shocked at how quickly those words left your mouth.

It was Rhys who threw you a condescending look. You hated how small it made you feel.

“Look, I appreciate your warning, but Tamlin has shown strides of growth, he has acknowledged his mistakes and is working endlessly to undo them. When was the last time you looked within yourselves?”

Rhys flashed his eyes at you with warning, bringing an arm to comfort his wife. “Careful,” he said plainly, but a flash of darkness passed through those violet eyes.

Damn him. And damn Feyre too. “You didn’t so much as try to stop them,” you breathed, your eyes welling with tears as you focused on her. Gods damn it – you thought you were past this, past them. But it was as if a year away meant nothing, you were just as hurt as that night you left the Night Court. Feyre watched with a pain expression as your lip wobbled. “And you didn't so much as try to apologise,” you whispered, your voice moments away from breaking.

Feyre’s eyes now glistened with the same tears. “You shut us out,” she countered, and you could see how much your own choices had wounded her.

“What choice did I have?” you asked, brushing away a stray tear. “You think I want to be this way? You think I wanted to cast myself out? You broke my trust and lied to me, alienating me from this family. And I was supposed to come to you for an apology?”

Feyre gulped guiltily, looking at the floor. Rhys watched you intensely, a concerned frown on his face.

“You’re right,” Feyre said quietly, grey eyes now finding yours. “But you must know Y/N, I am sorry. I’ve been sorry since the day it happened. I thought it wise for Azriel and Cassian to want to protect you, but I realised very quickly how it was that kind of thinking that trapped me within warded walls, and that had me fleeing my home all those years ago.”

You nodded, casting your eyes upwards to not let the tears stain your face yet again. “We can't keep doing this.”

“What’s that?” Rhys asked gently.

“This,” you gulped, waving your hands between you. “These sorry confessions and apologies, it hurts us all.”

“Alright,” Rhys said neutrally. “But you acknowledge our apology?’

“Yes.”

“Do you forgive us?”

Your lips pressed tight as you grimaced.

“That would be a no,” Rhys said sadly, his smile broken. Feyre couldn't force one if she wanted to.

“I want us to move forward,” you offered instead. “There is no use in resentment. It may be that we’ll continue to cross paths, and it is important to me that you know I will not respond illy.”

“Of course,” Feyre nodded, smiling.

A sharp pain throbbed at your temples then, the kind that came about when you had to keep your emotions and powers under tight strain. It was instinct to rub at your temples.

“Can I heal that for you?” Rhys was now standing in front of you, his smile remained but his eyes – heavy, saddened.

You blinked up at him before flicking your eyes to Feyre who waited eagerly for you to respond. Was this a test? Could it be, after all that had happened, you could consider them just…friends? You searched within yourself for the right answer, but nothing came about. It was just too soon.

But there was no harm in letting Rhys work some of his magic. “Alright,” you replied, and you heard Feyre loose a breath.

Rhysand’s hands cupped the side of your face, his fingers pressing to your temples as the familiar feeling of him slipping into your mind sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in you, something impossible to kill that was comforted by his touch. He was, after all, your High Lord of decades. He had been your home, your family, and maybe there was some part of that would always remain. It upset you how much you had to resist the urge to wrap your arms around his waist, to pull Feyre in too, to sob of how much you missed home, your family, how much you ached while you were apart.

It was over as quickly as it began, Rhys slipping from your mind, leaving no trace of a headache behind. You hadn't clocked that you had closed your eyes, your lip quivering as your cheeks were now wet with tears. Rhys kept his hands on your face, brushing them away.

“Y/N–,” he said softly, his face pained. You knew what he would say – come home, even if you hate us, come home. But you wouldn't give him a chance.

“T-thank you,” you stammered, pulling away from Rhysand’s hold and fleeing the terrace, leaving the two to their shock.

————

You were brushing away hot, fast tears as you fled the wedding, racing towards your guest room.

Gods, what was wrong with you today? You hated feeling like this – an unstable, blubbering mess. Nothing had changed in a year, not really. You were still the same, broken and alone. It hurt just as much to see your family now.

To hell with this wedding. You craved a sleep tonic and to be rid of this night. That was when Tamlin fell into side-step with you.

“Are you hurt?” he asked simply, muttering the words to avoid drawing attention as you passed through the crowd.

“No,” you managed to say, and you could have kissed him for playing into the nonchalance. He seemed to respect privacy, even when there was little to be found.

“I’ll walk you to your rooms.”

“No, Tam, I’m fine, you should–”

“Nonsense,” he replied, and you knew you wouldn't shake him. So you walked to your room, sniffing through your tears as you tried to calm the current brewing at your fingertips, Tamlin by your side.

You reached your quarters, a private corner in a long corridor or rooms. The door was carved in unique artwork, familiar somehow, as if beckoning you to enter from within.

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” he said with an unconvinced look.

“I will be, Tam, thank you.”

You gave his hand a quick squeeze, before turning the handle to the door.

And made it two paces in, before shadows filled your vision.

————

You swore as strong hands held your shoulders, blue siphons a blur as shadows cast around you. You fought on instinct, but it was impossible to shake Azriel’s grip.

“What in Mothers name–?!” you cursed again.

“You’re safe,” Azriel spoke with relief. Despite yourself, your skin ignited at the husk of his voice.

“Get your damn hands off me,” you gritted, taking in the room as the smog of shadows finally cleared.

Cassian was between you and the door, where Tamlin still stood, completely stunned. The General’s hands quickly curled into fists.

No one moved, each of you just as shocked to see the other. They had come for you, yes, but you were certain Tamlin was an unpleasant surprise.

“Fuck,” you ground out, almost rolling your eyes as you knew the strife that now awaited your friend.

Azriel moved you behind him, as if you needed to be shielded, protected. “What are you doing here, traitor?”

“Let her go at once,” Tamlin growled, stepping into the room.

You stepped out from behind Azriel, your mind reeling at the sight of the two Illyrians in you room. You hated them, but something in you churned - a yearning. It was easy to stamp down as a rage took over.

“What are you doing here?” you countered.

Azriel gave you a piercing look, running his eyes down your body. There was love in that look, but a sternness too.

“Answer me,” you ground out.

Cassian was still facing Tamlin, his siphons so bright they radiated heat. “Did you hurt her?” he growled at Tamlin, a shaking rage consuming him.

“You hunted me? Like a mare?” your voice was ice cold, colder than any of these males could ever hope to perfect. Your trust, betrayed, again.

That voice snared their attention. Cassian casting a look back at you, desperate, like he wanted to give you all of his time, to never stop drinking in the sight of you.

You prowled closer, fingers twitching as your power grew so strong zapping could be heard. “Rhys’s promise to me, the bargain. You broke it,” you spat.

“Y/N.” Cassian said your name, begging you. His pain cut through to you, your power dampening as a sick, sick part of you folded at his plea. Go to him, that part of you begged.

The room was filled with a sharp coldness and breeze as Rhys and Feyre winnowed into your quarters, Feyre’s face one of shock, Rhys’s one of fury.

“What in Gods name are you doing here?” he growled at his brothers.

“You left us no choice,” Azriel seethed back at Rhys, his wing stopping you as you silently moved to join Tamlin.

You glared at him. “Try that again,” you growled.

Azriel’s eyes were dark, predatory, but his brows pulled with a softness only reserved for you. “I do not trust him.”

“And I do not trust you,” you spat back.

“The promise,” Rhys growled, glaring between his brothers.

“Y/N, we had no idea they had come,” Feyre spoke with a desperation that you had to believe her.

“Leave. Now.” Rhys ordered, but the males ignored him, his power underwhelming in another court.

Cassian’s brow pulled, his face truly broken as he spoke to you. “You left us. And joined him?”

You snapped at the accusation. “I joined no one, because I belong to no one. I pursued a life beyond you, and I am a free female. Free to roam wherever I please, and fuck whoever I want.”

You words landed their mark, because both Azriel and Cassian recoiled.

And then Cassian’s face turned grave, as he slowly faced Tamlin again. “You-you touched her?”

You cursed yourself for the pointed insult – you should have known it would put Tamlin in the firing line. To his defense, Tamlin held a high chin.

“She is a free female. Nor you or I can rob her of that.”

Azriel snarled, and Cassian was on Tamlin in an instant.

“Stop that! Get off him! You will not hurt him!” you cried, broken at the thought of Tamlin being hurt because of you.

But before you could throw yourself at Cassian, night magic filled the space, pulling the males apart, commanding the room to its master. And you were surprised to see Feyre walking towards them, her palms outstretched, night pouring from her as her eyes now glowed with silver.

“Sensless violence ends now, I don’t care about the circumstance.”

What did she mean by that?

“Leave,” Cassian snarled at Tamlin, but Tamlin held his ground.

“He is welcomed to stay so long as Y/N sees fit,” Feyre spoke coldly, forcing Cassian’s eyes back to her. Now that, was a High Lady. “I can not believe you two–“

“You weren't invited?” you interjected, untrusting of your exes as you scowled between them.

Rhys shook his head from across the room. “We went as far to hide the papers.”

You gulped as you stared up at Azriel. “Pray tell, how you found me, then?”

Azriel wore no remorse as he said “Amren – she possessed an invite and–”

Exasperated sounds from each of you filled the room. Amren, of course. She was the only one to know to play games above Rhys and Feyre’s head, and cunning enough to pull it off.

“And what is your plan, then?” you added coldly. “Drag me back to the Night Court, kicking and screaming?”

“No, of course not,” Cassian responded softly, stepping towards you, stopping as you retreated back. “We had to know that you were safe.”

You stared at him, the sorrow in his voice, the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged. He was broken.

“You were not well when you left, Y/N. It’s been killing us not knowing how you are faring now,” Azriel added, his eyes soft, looking just as worn as his brother. You knew he sang silently to his shadows as they coiled in on themself, they would be begging to reach you.

“Please, don't be angry,” Cassian begged, his eyes welling. “We’ll go, we’ll go now, it’s just–”

“We love you. We- we need you,” Azriel interjected, his own brow clenched with pain.

Each of their words were a dagger to your heart, piercing it’s way through the walls you had built.

“Stop that,” you whispered, your hand pressing against your chest to ease the pain. Were these your feelings, or theirs?

“It’s true,” Cassian continued. “You’re our girl. We'll do better, Y/N, we promise. Please.”

It was painful to hear, and you faltered slightly as your body jerked in pain. Something was breaking within you, crumpling around something else, something buried deep.

“Please Y/N, come home.”

Your knees gave out as you let out an anguished cry, your heart tearing and swelling to the point where you thought you just might die.

“Y/N!” Tamlin called in panic, but Azriel and Cassian were already at your sides, holding you, asking where it hurt.

Palms braced on the floor, you tried to breath through laboured breaths as you finally felt what was concealed for so long. It was unmistakable, a tether of sun-lit rope, tying you to the males at either side of you. You felt it all – their fear, the instincts to take you far from this place, their overwhelming, unconditional love.

And you hated it.

“No,” you gasped, your hand finding your heart as you tried to calm its pounding.

Azriel glanced at Cassian, who gave a single nod in confirmation. Feyre gasped from where she stood.

“What is it?” Tamlin panicked. “What’s going on?”

“No!” you repeated, standing quickly and backing away from the two males. It couldn't be – you were free, you had left…

They watched you with saddened eyes at the horror that beheld you.

“The Mother is cruel,” Rhys tutted, lowering his head in sympathy.

“What in the gods-forsaken realms is going on?” Tamlin yelled.

“No, no, no, no! Please, no!” You clutched at the roots of your hair, your mind reeling as you begged to no one. You were bound to them, whether you liked it or not. An enslavement of kinds.

“It snapped,” Feyre answered to Tamlin without ever turning his way.

It was too much to bare – their instincts, your newly ignited ones, their love, your hate. Your brain scrambled for sense, fighting itself over and over as you shook at your knees.

A final ‘no’ pushed past your lips before your body gave out, the world tipping and your vision darkening as strong hands caught you.

You succumbed to the gods damned mating bond.

-------

Part 5>>>

AN: Helllllllllo my lovelies! I am so so bloody excited to share this part with you! It was a rollercoaster to write, hope you held on tight for this angst-train! Always, always, ALWAYS want to hear your thoughts and feelings on where this story is heading, so please drop a comment anytime. And thank you endlessly for your support with this fic - it means the world. MWA!!

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angstywaifu · 3 months

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I Think I Deserve A Kiss - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Happy Valentines Day for all my fellow Australians and future people! Have some cute Xaden Riorson fluff with the prompt "I think I deserve a kiss."

It felt like anything that could have gone wrong today, did go wrong. I had woken up late due to being out late on a supply run that didn’t go exactly to plan. Because of that I’d missed breakfast and barely made it to my first class on time. Xaden and Garrick had someone managed to get up on time and be there. Both raising eyebrows at me as I ran in while shoving my arms into my jacket.

During flight training a squad mate hadn’t been paying attention and dove straight down into my dragon and I causing me to come off. Luckily my dragon had been quick to right themselves and catch me before it was too late. Then at challenges another fight interrupted ours, and due to it I’d lost track of my opponent and gotten jumped. And then everything had gone black.

The throbbing in my head was almost unbearable as I woke from whatever slumber I was in. No not a slumber. I didn’t feel rested and no way would I have been able to sleep with all this pain. I open my eyes and squint as I’m blinded by the light above me. I go to sit up, but two very strong hands push me back down. I vaguely hear them talking to me, but there’s still a ringing in my ears. That’s right. I’d been in challenges.

My eyes finally adjust and I see I’m in the healers quadrant, a mage light right above my bed. The curtains are drawn around my bed, giving me some privacy from the rest of the room. A hand firmly grasps mine, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand. I look over to see Xaden sitting next to my bed. I must stare at him confused as he raises his eye brow at me.

”You ok?” He asks, his voice sounds rough. Almost as if he had been yelling.

”No, but..” I pause as I’m unsure what to say. The emotion I see on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before.

”But what?” He asks sternly as he raises one of his eye brows at me.

”You look worried and you never look worried?” I tell him.

I feel his body stiffen at my words. Clearly he had been trying to hide his worry from me. But I’d seen right through him as his onyx eyes had betrayed the hidden emotion. Xaden wasn’t emotionless by any means. But he usually did a very good job at hiding them. Choosing to save them for behind closed doors or around those he trusted. I guess behind the drawn curtains he kind of was.

”You would be to if you saw what I saw.” He stands and walks to the end of my bed, running his hands through his hair.

“What do you mean?” I ask worried.

What had happened? It was just a challenge. We did them all the time. We got hurt all the time. But the pulsing pain in my head told me that this time was probably one of the more extreme outcomes of challenges. In my three years in the quadrant I’d been lucky enough to avoid any major injuries. Till now it seems.

Xaden barely turns to me as he motions to a mirror sitting on the table next to me. I grab it and hold it up to my face. I gasp and almost drop the mirror. It was clear my injuries had been mended as much as they could. But the stitches on my cheek and lip, and the bruise around my right eye and peaking through the collar of my shirt told me I had received a decent beating when they’d gotten the jump on me.

“I should have been watching. But I was too caught up on making sure that damn Sorrengail girl didn’t get killed. And next thing I know there’s screaming across the other side of the gym as that asshole beats you to within an inch of your life.” I can see Xaden’s shoulder visibly shake as he recalls the memory.

It’s then I notice Xaden is not in his training gear. He’s in his normal uniform. As he turns I notice the slight hint of shadows forming under his eyes.

”How long have I been unconscious for?” I ask hesitantly.

“Three. Days.” Xaden practically spits out angrily.

Even though the anger is not directed at me, I still flinch at the tone in his voice. Three days I had been out for. I shudder as I look at my reflection in the mirror. If I had been out for that long my injuries must have been way worse than what I am seeing now. The curtain to my bed is moved to the side revealing the only mender in the healers quadrant. I don’t recall his name as I haven’t had much to do with him. As he approaches me Xaden walks out leaving me alone with him. With how angry he seemed to be I don’t blame him for leaving, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad at him leaving me alone. I sit in silence as the mender tends to my injuries again. Due to me being awake he is able to heal a bit more, and luckily he is able to take away the throbbing headache I had woken up with. With instructions to come back again in a few days and a tub of healing balm I am allowed to go back to the riders quadrant. As I walk through the big doors that lead back to the riders quadrant I find Xaden leaning against the wall waiting for me.

He reaches out and pulls me into his side, before placing his hand on the small of my back as he leads me back to my room. Classes must still be on with how empty the corridors are. We don’t bump into a single person on the way back. I don’t dare try to break the silence as I know it’s better to leave Xaden be when he is in one of these moods. He opens my door and ushers me in, before guiding me over to my bed and sitting me down. He squats down in front of me and places his hands on my knees as he looks at me.

”You should get some rest. I’ll come back and grab you for dinner ok?” He tells me quietly. His voice is void of any emotion. His default when he’s trying to stay calm when he is anything but calm.

I do my best to ignore the twinge of pain in my heart as I nod my head. He softly smiles at me and nods slightly. He stands and kisses the top of my head before quickly leaving my room. As he closes the door I let you the breath I didn’t realise I had been holding in. Xaden is right, I do need to sleep. After being mended I felt exhausted. And even though I had been out for three days, I felt like I’d been awake for three days instead. I place the healing balm I still clutched in my hands on the bedside table before changing into some more comfy clothes and climbing into bed, sleep consuming me almost immediately as my head hits the pillow.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel the bed dip slightly beside me. I open my eyes to see I’ve rolled towards the wall. But I can tell immediately it is a lot later. My room is now dark, bar the soft flicker of a flame. Strange. My mage light is usually much brighter than this. I feel the bed shift next to me again and I look over my shoudler to see Xaden sitting next to me, his face illuminated but a soft flickering light. He seems to be a lot calmer as he smiles softly at me. I roll over fully and my breath catches in my throat.

Multiple candles have been lit and placed around my room, explaining the soft flickering light in the room. On the table, Xaden has laid out food he must have gathered from the dining hall. I’ve clearly missed dinner with how dark it is outside. Next to the dinner he has brought, which is also enough for the two of us, is two big slices of chocolate cake.

I look over at Xaden who is smiling at me, his shoulders shaking slightly with a silent laugh as he looks at my shocked face.

”What is this?” I ask him.

”Well I came to get you for dinner and I couldn’t wake you up while you looked so peaceful. So i brought dinner to you.” He tells me softly. The way his brows furrow tells me he is doing his best to think about his works.

I nod my head slowly. “But why all the candles?”

”Well, I’d actually planned to ask you something, but what happened kind of put a dampener on my plans.” He admits as he looks down at the floor.

”What plans?” I’d asked confused.

I tried to rack my brain for what he could mean. What on earth could he have wanted to ask me the other day?

”I was-” He pauses, his eye brows furrowing again. “I was going, to ask you. To be my valentine.” He finally gets out.

I freeze in shock as he looks up at me. He looks scared. But it quickly changes as he tries to hold back his laughter. Obviously the look on my face is quite amusing for him.

”Left you speechless have I? Thats a first.” He teases, easily grabbing my hand as I go to playfully hit him. “That’s not very nice.”

”It’s what you deserve for teasing me.” I sassily say back.

My breath hitches as he leans in close, our noses barely touching. He’s so close I can see the golden flecks in his onyx eyes, I can feel every breath he takes. He obviously hears it as he chuckles softly.

”I think I deserve a kiss.” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk.

I go to playfully hit him with my other hand. Yet again he easily grabs it as if he knows what I had planned and uses the momentum to pull me closer and into a kiss. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. The dinner and cake quickly forgotten.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #xaden riorson #the fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader

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homunculus-argument · 2 years

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Character-concept: A post-apocalyptic clown.

He was never literally a clown, maybe a comedian of some sort. There wasn not much work for full-time stand-up comedians before The End, so he was scraping by with whatever odd jobs he was able to do. Not skilled in anything survival-related, he scraped by just as poorly as most other survivors would, staying alive by being clever but mostly by sheer dumb luck.

Bumping into a more competent, organised group of survivors, he asks if he can join - he doesn't have any relevant skills but he's got two working hands and he's willing to learn.

"What did you do for a living before all this?" "I was a comedian." "We don't have need for a clown." "Well I'm good at doing that and I'm bad at sucking dick, I'm sure you've got use for one or the other. Come on, I could do laundry or mend clothes or something. You could use that, don't tell me you don't - you guys look worse than you smell and that's saying something."

The group's leader, who fortunately happened to be present, considers this. There is a need for someone who would do the vital tasks that everyone else in the group has deemed "undignified", and there has been tensions in the gang about how to make someone do it. He is allowed in.

And he settles in, doing the odd jobs that he'll do badly, but it's better than nobody doing them at all. But what he's good at doing is keeping an eye on people, reading the room, spotting when things are getting tense. And incapable of resisting the urge to do what he does best - what he was born to do - he'll crack a joke or make a remark about whatever the group is just about to start fighting about. At first, he's just told to shut the fuck up. But someone does admit that it was kind of funny.

They start to pause and listen when he opens his mouth. Not because whatever he has to say would be useful to the situation, but it might still be worth the laugh. As they get to know each other, the others start asking him about his Life Before. People like hearing stories about the Life Before, and he always has some funny one to tell, and a masterful way of delivering it.

He gets better at the odd jobs he's assigned to do, and occasionally the others join him to help, just to be around him and hearing him talk. Their fights over The Work That Nobody Wants To Do have eased, not just because of him doing it all, but because making somebody do them is no longer a matter of honour.

Though he doesn't join them on missions, the gang works better together - sharing a laugh with each other helps them to trust and like each other, instead of simply grimly relying on each other as the only way to survive. On their bonfires at night, they no longer simply sit in silence - if there's nothing important to discuss, someone will say "hey clown, tell us a bit", and he gladly does.

They don't thrive - nobody does in an apocalypse - but they do better than the bands of survivors who have nothing but bleak survival to share. He doesn't bring in the meals he eats, but as much as the gang might be reluctant to admit it, it's vital to their survival to have a clown.

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wavernot4love · 27 days

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hey idkhow folks i just want to say some stuff about tonight's show as someone who was there, in a completely respectful manner (this is mostly just me talking to myself because i just feel bad & want to help in these situations):

so tonight a handful of songs were cut from the setlist - sixft, sunnyside, visitation, boring, i may not be thinking of something else.

all night dallon was being really open, moreso then usual expressing gratefulness for the crowd & band and basically repeatedly saying it was a blessing he gets to do this and have the kind of problems he has, lots of emphasis on turning negative things into something beautiful etc, which i now see probably ties into the other stuff -

choke came super early, then razzmatazz, then everyone walked off stage.

dallon walked back out and immediately led us in all just singing a song together pretty emotionally, acapella, my memory is failing me but it's a popular older song (a cover). he was mostly sitting on the stage during this.

then came opening band. of the band, just anthony came back out for this one. dallon came into the crowd, something i'd never heard of for that before, and no theatrics like with visitation, we just sang together, and he stayed out with us for a really long time.

overall dude just seemed rather sad/off. don't want to elaborate too much but trust it was significant enough that it had me (and others) genuinely worried. but moments like opening band seemed to mend that & just were great moments of connection. in that moment, everything was alright.

some of us waited after, kinda out of concern/wanting to make sure everything was ok.

maybe 20 minutes ago homie walked out to the bus and smiled and waved to the couple of sections of us (we all kept our distance & just sat there, it was just maybe a dozen of us). we waved back & told him to take care and stuff. he still seemed down, but i was just glad to see he was ok.

overall i just want to say please show him all the love there is at the coming shows (i believe toronto is next). i love this project and it's clear he does and i just want him to know how much we care, regardless of what's up (the details are none of our business of course)

sorry for bad formatting/wording, i've just had a couple experiences where something like this has happened at a show (different bands) and every time i just feel horrible and just want to help.

just give these shows to come so much love for me, and treat homie with kindness, is what the point of this post is <3

#idkhow #i don't know i just want folks to spread some positivity to him i guess #idkhow has brought so much joy to my life #shows and otherwise #gloomtown tour #i dont know how but they found me

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screemnch · 6 months

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Yeah, the gay doctors are cool and all, but have you ever thought about

Aglaya Lilich?????

I swear to god she is the most character of all time. She is smart, she is capable, discerning and even sometimes kind and YET!

Everyone must hate her. She can’t do anything right - not for the lack of trying or being incapable - but because that is not her role. She isn’t the hero who saves the town from the plague and she isn’t the solution. The Powers That Be gave her an impossible task and promised to send her to death if she fails, there is probably already a coffin in the capital made just for her and she is still trying.

And I have to reiterate that everyone MUST hate her. Maria hates her because of Nina and because of the polyhedron, Block hates her because of the manufactured stigma, most npc’s speak about her with either fear or resentment. Even the healers all have a bone to pick with her (including Artemy, depending on how you play). And that’s not to say that she’s blameless or anything - she is still ruthless and unrelenting. She still orders many people to their death and tells a couple of characters to just go and drop dead, but I feel like that’s to be expected of a few other characters as well.

And yet.

She opens up the termitary (if I remember correctly) allowing the few survivors to get help and exposing the Olgimsky’s to judgement from the Kin. She saves Peter from Saburov’s murder plan without hesitation (if I remember correctly - before she even sees the tower’s blueprints). She wants to mend her relationship with the last of her family, even though they’ll never forgive her. And on the final day without fail - she leaves the decision in the player’s hands. If Dankovsky was right and she was trying to destroy the polyhedron simply as a final stab at the Kains, she’d be much more insistent about it, as we know she can be. But she acknowledges her biases and abstains from weighing in on the argument. She is convinced that her decision is correct (unlike Block, who is here to execute and order, not make decisions) yet she lets the player take the lead. I haven’t seen most of patho 2, and I know that she does a few things differently there, but I can assure you it will also make me have a lot of thoughts about her.

She is also perfectly aware of her situation. She is hated by the Powers That Be - both the government and the little kids. No one wants her here, no one trusts her, she is basically sent to die. But still she resolves to try to right the wrongs and help people as much as she can (which is particularly fun because a lot of people like to view Daniil’s story as that predicament). And while I don’t particularly like to talk about romance when analyzing stuff, it’s important to point out that (as far as I know) in both patho classic and patho 2 her themes are quite strongly connected with the concept of love. I’m not familiar enough with that part of the story, but the fact that someone can be in such a dire, desperate situation and still find in themselves the capacity for trust, vulnerability and affection is… Not something I can describe well in my vocabulary.

Honestly can’t wait to look at her dialogue, too bad she’s not part of any faction in particular and probably will be one of the last characters I look at. I should draw her, maybe. Go insane, maybe.

#pathologic #aglaya lilich #ramblings #whenever people kinda gloss over her existence it’s like #god forbid women do anything

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thoughtcascades · 1 year

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What is love?

Love is a feeling – it's the warm and fuzzy emotion that we feel when we're around the people we care about.

Love is like a puzzle – it takes time, patience, and effort to put all the pieces together, but when it's complete, it's a beautiful and fulfilling experience.

Love is a choice – it's not something that just happens to you, but something that you actively choose to give and receive.

Love is a journey – it's not just a destination, but a process of growth and self-discovery that can take a lifetime to fully understand and appreciate.

Love is a verb – it's not just a feeling, but an action that requires effort and commitment to nurture and maintain.

Love is a balance – it requires give and take, compromise, and a willingness to put the needs of the other person before your own.

Love is a gift – it's something that we can give freely to others, and it has the power to transform and enrich our lives in ways we never could have imagined.

Love is patient – it takes time to grow and deepen, and it requires patience and understanding to navigate the ups and downs of any relationship.

Love is kind – it's not just about feeling good, but about actively seeking the well-being and happiness of the people we love.

Love is forgiving – it requires the ability to let go of grudges and resentment, and to choose compassion and understanding over anger and resentment.

Love is selfless – it's about putting the needs of the people we love before our own, and being willing to sacrifice for their happiness.

Love is a bond – it connects us to others in a way that is deep and enduring, and it helps us to feel a sense of belonging and purpose.

Love is transformative – it has the power to change us in ways we never could have imagined, and to help us become the best version of ourselves.

Love is enduring – it's not just a fleeting emotion, but something that can endure through even the toughest challenges and toughest times.

Love is unconditional – it's not based on superficial qualities or external circumstances, but on a deep and genuine connection with another person.

Love is a commitment – it requires effort and dedication to nurture and maintain, and it requires a willingness to work through challenges and conflicts together.

Love is a state of being – it's not just a fleeting emotion, but something that can become a part of our daily lives and our very being.

Love is a feeling of connection – it's the sense that we belong together and are meant to be with the people we love.

Love is a source of strength – it gives us the courage and support we need to face challenges and overcome obstacles.

Love is a source of comfort – it provides a sense of safety and security, and helps us to feel loved and accepted for who we are.

Love is a source of inspiration – it can motivate us to be our best selves and to pursue our dreams and goals.

Love is a source of healing – it has the power to mend broken hearts and bring peace and closure to difficult situations.

Love is a feeling of security – it gives us the confidence and peace of mind that we are loved and supported, no matter what.

Love is a feeling of trust – it allows us to trust others and to feel safe and secure in our relationships.

Love is a feeling of respect – it allows us to respect and appreciate others for who they are, and to value their unique qualities and strengths.

Love is a feeling of gratitude – it allows us to be grateful for the people we love and for the positive impact they have on our lives.

Love is a feeling of compassion – it allows us to have empathy and understanding for others, and to offer support and comfort when they need it.

Love is a feeling of unity – it allows us to feel united with others and to work together towards common goals and aspirations.

Love is a feeling of hope – it allows us to hope for the best in ourselves and in our relationships, and to believe that anything is possible when we have love in our lives.

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marie-swriting · 3 months

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The Slut Of Hawkins | And The Freak - Eddie Munson [2/2]

Stranger Things Masterlist

Part one

Part one - two (French version)

Summary : After months of loneliness because of your reputation being destroyed, Eddie Munson is there for you.

Warning : slutshaming, mention of bullying (reader and Eddie getting bullied) (talk to someone if you're being bullied!), mention of bad relationship with parents, quick mention of drug, trust issues, angst, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.9k

Song inspiration : Bad Reputation by Shawn Mendes

Your detention is over, finally allowing you to run away from a prison to go to another. You bid goodbye to the teacher and leave the school building. The parking lot is empty save some cars.

You’re walking toward the exit when you hear a voice holding you back. Before you have the time to turn around the person is already in front of you, panting. Steve is in front of you, panting. You try to walk past him yet he holds you back.

“What do you want?” you ask, drily.

“I… I just wanted to know… How are you?”

“Because you care now? Leave me alone.” you retort, trying to leave again.

“Y/N, wait!”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for everything that happened.” Steve starts with guilty eyes. “I didn’t mean for things to go that bad.”

“And yet, you did nothing to stop it. And don’t you even dare say I’m wrong.”

“I went to the principal as soon as everything went down with Jessica. I tried to explain the situation, to defend you but he didn’t want to-”

“I stopped waiting for you to take my defence more than a month ago, Steve.” you cut him off, annoyed. “At first, I stupidly thought you’d be on my side, that you’d defend me and you know what you did the first time I was humiliated in front of everyone, including you? You turned around and left me alone. I stopped counting on you a long time ago, Steve.”

“I know I acted like a coward but I want to make amends. It’s been going on for too long.”

“You want some kind of medal for your sudden realisation? It’s too late, Steve! There’s nothing left to do.”

“Y/N, please. You meant a lot to me.”

“It doesn’t feel like it!” you scream, clenching your fists. “You know, one day you told me I’d always be your favourite love, well, I’m telling you, you will always be the one I regret. The beautiful three months we spent together aren’t worth all the pain and the bullying I’ve been receiving.” you say, angry tears in your eyes. “You made me feel more alone than I’ve ever been. You said you wanted to be someone better, you have a lot of work left to do. I sincerely hope you’ll be able to do better. Either way, I don’t want to see it. Now, leave me alone.”

“Please, give me a chance.” Steve begs, grabbing your arm.

You’re about to reply to Steve when a van stops next to you. You both don’t pay attention to it until Eddie Munson’s voice cuts off your conversation.

“Hey, everything alright here?”

“We’re just talking.” Steve informs Eddie.

“Very well. Y/N, I’m still bringing you home tonight, right?”

At Eddie’s question, your eyebrows furrowed. You never talked with Eddie about him bringing you home; actually you never talked with Eddie before. Looking at him more carefully, you understand he’s just offered you a way out from your conversation with Steve. You’re about to accept when Steve beats you to it.

“I can bring her home.”

“Y/N?” Eddie insists.

“I’m going home with Eddie. Stop talking to me, Steve.”

Before Steve can add something else, you get in Eddie’s van without looking back. Eddie starts driving as soon as you close the door. You stay silent for a few seconds while a tear runs down your cheek, Eddie leans toward the glove compartment and takes a tissue before giving it to you. You softly thank him and wipe your cheeks. Once Eddie considers he’s at a good distance from school, he stops and turns to you.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no. I’m gonna leave here, there’s a bus soon.” you say, taking your school bag at your feet. “I don’t want to cause you any problems, especially if you’re in a relationship.”

“Good thing I don’t have a girlfriend, then.” he smiles. “And even if I did, I don’t care what they say about you so I don’t mind bringing you home.”

“Thanks.” you say before giving him your address. “Can we wait for a bit before going home? I don’t want to go now.”

“Sure.”

Eddie gives you as much time as you need to get a grip on yourself when you tell him you feel better, he starts driving the car again. You both stay silent almost the whole way home, Eddie supposes you need it; however he wants to put on some music, he clears his throat to catch your attention.

“Do you mind if I put some music on, as a background sound?”

“Not at all, go ahead. It’s your car, you don’t have to ask me.”

“It’s just, you seem lost in your thoughts, I don’t want to interrupt you.” Eddie explains whilst putting on a tape and turning down the volume a little.

“Sorry, I’m not very good company tonight.”

“That’s not what I meant. I guess you had a long day.”

“Let’s not talk about it, let’s talk about you.” you cut him off, turning to him. “Why did you finish school this late? I’m not judging, it’s just I know you’re not a fan of school.”

“That’s the least you can say.” Eddie laughs. “We had a meeting with the Hellfire club, we finished late.”

“What is your club about?”

“According to people outside of Hellfire, we worship Satan. Officially, we play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Is it some kind of board game?” you question, curious. Edide lightly laughs at your guess.

“It’s a roleplay game.”

“Oh okay. Tell me more.”

Eddie doesn’t need you to ask him twice to start rambling. Instantly, he becomes happy while explaining the universe, the different characters and some of his campaigns. Eddie is the one who does all the talking, your answers are shorts, yet you listen to him carefully.

When you’re finally at your home, he forces himself to stop talking. Eddie parks a bit before your house - to be sure he won’t get you in trouble with your parents as he says with a humorous tone. Your heart tightens at his comment, Eddie, just like you, is a victim of the spitefulness of teenagers your age. You glance at your house before grabbing your bag and turning to Eddie.

“Thank you.” you say before pausing. “For bringing me home and for defending me last time.”

“Well, it wasn’t very useful considering they didn’t listen to me.”

“Sure but you were the only one on my side so just know, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” Eddie genuinely replies.

“I’m not gonna bother you any longer.”

You leave Eddie’s van though before you can walk away, Eddie leans toward the car window from the passenger side and opens it.

“Y/N, wait! I noticed you never eat at the cafeteria for lunch. If you want, you’re welcome at the Hellfire table.” he invites you, warming your heart.

“It’s very nice but I don’t like eating at the cafeteria with others.”

“Well, just so you know, in the woods behind school, there’s a picnic table almost no one knows about. I eat there sometimes. We can eat there tomorrow.”

“I… I’ll think about it.” you promise with a small smile. “Good evening, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back at you while you slowly walk to your front door. When Eddie is sure you’re home safe, he leaves your street, going back to the trailer park.

From that night on, Eddie pays more attention to you. Of course, he’s heard all their rumours and all the variants. Yet, Eddie is known for not blindly following what he’s told about someone else. It’s been a long time since he’s wanted to talk to you; he knows all too well how isolating having this kind of reputation can be. Nevertheless, he didn’t know how to start a conversation with you, after all, you had never really talked before until he came to your rescue the last time you talked with Steve.

After a week of analysis, Eddie’s noticed some of your defence mechanisms. The first one he noticed before he even talked with you is that you never eat with someone else - he has some ideas on where you might go hiding to eat. He also knows you always take the long way home to avoid everyone; no matter if it’s to go to class or to go home. He knows this whole situation doesn’t stop at school, it also happens in your own home. Eddie wants to give you some support like he would have liked to have the first time he got bullied.

It’s actually the reason why he decides to wait after your detention again. He wants to talk with you without having someone interrupting you or making you run away. As soon as you leave school, Eddie gets out of his van and makes you a sign. You frown before walking toward him, slightly embarrassed.

“Were… were you waiting for me?”

“I wanted to see if you need a drive home.” Eddie proposes.

“I take the bus. Last time was an exception, not that I didn’t appreciate by the way.”

“I know but I thought that maybe I could bring you home every day.” he explains, pointing at his van. “As your detention always finishes late. And I can even make some detours so you don’t have to go home right away.”

“Why?” you ask, on the lookout.

“I noticed-”

“No, why are you proposing?” you specify, interrupting him. “You seem nice but we don’t know each other, I don’t know why you’d want to bring me home when you could leave school earlier.”

“I just want to.” he replies with a genuine tone. “Plus, last time, you said you’d eat with me and I waited the whole afternoon for you which isn’t very nice so you kinda owe me.” he jokes, making you smile.

“I said I’d think about it, I never confirmed anything.”

“True and maybe you didn’t come because you had some homework to do or just because we don’t know each other that’s why I thought that by being your driver, we could become friends and maybe you’d be less hesitant at the idea of eating with someone.” Eddie admits, yet, you stay sceptical. “Y/N, I swear I’m being honest here, I’m not trying to trap you.” he adds, taking a step towards you. “If you don’t want to, I leave you alone. If you agree but then you change your mind, I leave you alone, too. I’m just offering my service, nothing more.”

You stare at Eddie, trying to decipher him. You know Eddie’s reputation and no matter what people say about him, the fact is, he’s one of the rare people from school who never put you down and the only one who defended you in front of everyone. You feel like he means his words. You have no reason to doubt, but you can’t help it. Your mind shows you every worst case scenario, trying to prove you this situation could get worse. However, your guts tells you to trust him for some reasons.

“Fine, I accept.”

At your answer, a big smile takes place on Eddie’s face then he runs to dramatically open the door of the passenger side. You laugh at his antics before getting in his van.

This time, on the way home you’re more talkative. You ask him some questions about Dungeons And Dragons before the conversation goes to more basic topics. You enjoy Eddie’s eccentric personality. He makes you laugh out loud, something you hadn’t done the past two months. You’re even disappointed when you see Eddie stopping in your street, you wish you could talk with him more. You thank him before leaving his van and going home with a genuine smile on your face.

During the following weeks, your friendship with Eddie is only composed of the conversations you two have when he brings you home. You know Eddie a bit better now and you have to admit, thanks to him, life at school is more enjoyable. You haven’t dared eating with him at the picnic table so far - that doesn’t mean you don’t want to, though.

Everytime he asks you, you want to accept, except you can’t help but think about what people could say about you if they saw you going to the woods with Eddie. A new rumour could start in a second. Things are finally calming down, you can’t risk going back to square one. Nevertheless, the more the time passes, the more you want to spend it with Eddie, therefore, on the day of your last detention, you finally decide to abandon the janitor's closet and walk to the woods. Eddie is already at the table, he’s started to eat his sandwich. The second he hears someone coming to him, he raises his head. Once he sees you, he gives up his sandwich and claps his hands.

“Ladies and gentlemen, she has come !” he says solemnly. “My God, I was afraid to eat all by myself once more.”

“Feels pathetic, right?” you laugh whilst Eddie invites you to sit down in front of him. “I thought that I refused your invitation too many times, I was afraid you’d refuse to bring me home in return.”

“Never.” Eddie affirms while you take out your lunch. “I like you too much to let you go.”

“So that’s your refuge when you don’t eat at the cafeteria?”

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“More than the janitor’s closet.” you confirm.

“Is that where you usually eat?”

“At least, I run into no one.” you inform, starting to eat. “Eddie, can I ask you a question?” you ask after a pause.

“Tell me.”

“How do you do it? I mean, people have been saying awful things about you for years and I don’t feel like it’s hurting you. Maybe I’m wrong and you just hide it very well. Either way, I’d like to know.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, at first, it was hard.” he confesses, avoiding your gaze. “I couldn’t stop thinking I must be the problem, if I weren’t like this maybe people wouldn’t say that. If I didn’t dress a certain way maybe they’d like me more.” Eddie adds, playing with his sandwich. “I spent the whole elementary school trying to find a reason, trying to find a way to be accepted until I realised they weren’t worth it.” he affirms, looking up at you. “I understood their opinions didn’t matter because they weren’t important to me. I understood I’d rather live like I wanted to rather than change myself and lose myself. At first, I felt alone until I met other outcasts like me. When people invent stories about you, it isolates you from the others and it creates damage; however the important thing to do is to be surrounded by the right people.”

“Beside you, I have no one.” you admit, sadly.

“Hellfire would be happy to have you.”

“Your friends don’t know me.”

“And I’m sure they’d like you if they did.”

“Maybe later.”

“Claiming back the insults they give you can help, too, you know.” Eddie specifies. “You can’t let their words hurt you. You have to create strength out of it. Now I can say I’m a freak and I’m proud of it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know, it’s an everyday work but you can do it.” Eddie encourages you, standing up to be next to you. “You have to take the strength away from these words. They hurt you because you think they’re negatives but if you make them something positive, they won’t have any more insults to tell you.”

“You’re not seriously suggesting that I say I’m slut and I’m proud of it?” you question, panicked.

“I don’t want you to say, I want you to yell it.” he corrects.

“You’re stupid.”

“Come on, do it.” Eddie orders, forcing you to stand up.

“I’m not gonna do it.” you retort, crossing your arms on your chest. “I’ve spent months trying to get rid of this label, I’m not gonna put it on myself.”

“You should do it, it’ll free you.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Do you trust me or not?” Eddie asks, determined.

“Yeah but-”

“Then do it.” Eddie interrupts, uncrossing your arms.

“I’m a slut and I’m proud.” you say without much conviction.

“Louder!”

“I’m a slut and I’m proud.” you repeat a bit louder.

“Again!”

“I’m a slut and I’m proud!” you finally scream.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Eddie yells while you smile because of his silliness. “Your smile is pretty by the way, you should show it more.”

Eddie means his words. He adores seeing you smile just like he loves hearing you laugh. By observing you these past few weeks, he quickly realised you usually keep a neutral expression - except the day you can’t hide your pain. He makes it his personal mission to give you back your smile. He wishes someone would have done the same for him when the bullying started. Eddie likes to think he makes your days a bit more bearable as well as your evenings when he brings you home.

The minute you leave your last detention, you hand back your essay on bullying to Mr. Kaminski with a big smile on your face. After a whole month, you’re finally free. You bid your teacher goodbye before running away from the place. As you walk through the corridor, your smile gets bigger when you think of what you’re going to say to Eddie about your last detention. Your turn in a new hallway where your locker is when you notice someone around it. Your smile fades and you trot towards the person, thinking you’ll find the one who is tagging your locker. At your surprise, you don’t find anyone from the basketball team nor Jessica but Eddie as he tries to scrub with a towel the insult which was written the day before.

“What are you doing?” you question, startling Eddie.

“My God, you scared me! I’m cleaning your locker. What do you think I’m doing?” he answers as if it was obvious whilst showing the towel in his hand.

“It’s very nice, I just didn’t ask you to do it.”

“I know.”

“You can stop, the janitor will take care of it tomorrow, as he always does.”

“You’ll wait a long time.” Eddie laughs as he keeps washing off.

“What do you mean?”

“The janitor is not the one who cleans these horrors off your locker. I do. And sometimes, I can also get rid of some notes that stick out.” Eddie informs, surprising you.

“Wh- why?”

“You don’t deserve to have your locker tagged.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was doing this out of interest.”

Eddie looks into your eyes as he says his last sentence while your heart misses a beat. You didn’t know Eddie cared since the beginning. He’s always been kind to you and thanks to him, you’ve been feeling better. He’s one of the rare good things that’s happened to you; his friendship is precious to you. You don’t know what you would have become without him. You keep gazing at each other lovingly until Eddie clears his throat.

“I’m almost done. And no, you can’t help me.” he quickly adds as you were about to reply. “Wait for me in the van, I only need a few more minutes.”

Eddie’s keys in hands, you get closer to him and kiss his cheek before muttering ‘thank you’. Eddie’s heart jumps at this contact. He stupidly smiles while you leave the building.

After that day, you let your guard down, allowing yourself to fully trust Eddie. Besides your friendship going to the next level, you feel like this whole thing with Steve is behind you. You believe you can have some kind of normal life. At least, it’s the case at school, your parents aren’t over it, they keep talking about it and since they’ve discovered your friendship with Eddie - once again because of Miss. Johnson, your neighbour - it’s worse. Thankfully, Eddie’s support makes things easier.

As a consequence, you accept to do the one thing you’ve been avoiding the past three months: eating at the cafeteria. You feel ready to face the potential stare from the others - with Eddie’s support, obviously. Before walking through the cafeteria’s door, Eddie makes sure you’re okay before putting a hand on your back and inviting you to take the first step. At first, no one notices you which makes you sigh in relief. However, as soon as you arrive at the Hellfire table, some people start whispering whilst pointing at you. You ignore it while Eddie introduces you to his friend.

Lunch goes smoothly until Jessica and her friends walk by you.

“Wow, the slut and the freak, they’re a good fit for each other! She’s probably with him out of interest, if you know what I mean.” she says whilst bringing an imaginary joint to her lips.

You don’t pay attention to it, knowing all too well it’d be a waste of your time to face them. Furthermore, you don’t want to go back to detention once more. You focus back on what Eddie is saying about his last campaign, listening in silence. During the whole time, you stay silent, not understanding half of their references. The few ones you get are thanks to Eddie who’s introduced you to Star Wars and some other universes he likes.

“Are you gonna be there for the next Hellfire session?” Josh asks you.

“Oh, huh, I don’t think so. I’ve never played DnD.”

“You should come.” another person from the club replies.

“See, I told you they would like you to come.” Eddie says with a satisfied smile.

“I’ll think about it then.”

“Let’s talk about you.” Nick starts. “Is it true what people say? I gotta admit I don’t know how you could have dated Harrington. This guy is superficial and according to what Eddie told us, you’re totally different from him so I don’t see why you’d want to steal him from Nancy. Besides, even about Nancy, I…”

You don’t let Nick finish his sentence before trotting out of the cafeteria. You’re tearing up as you go through different corridors, not knowing where you want to go. Eddie goes after you, not without glaring at his friend. Eddie screams your name while he runs behind you but you don’t listen to him. You get closer to the school exit when Eddit catches you. He puts his hands on your shoulder before standing in front of you.

“Let me go, Eddie.” you order, getting out of his grip.

Eddie raises his hands to show he doesn’t want to hurt you. He keeps a good distance from you before talking.

“Don’t listen to what he said. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“It’s not about what he said.” you specify. “He said nothing wrong technically. It just shows that even if the rumours aren’t spreading as much, everyone still thinks about it. Your friends talk about it, people point at me, even my parents still talk about it ! And now that we hang together, I’m afraid they’ll talk about you, too.”

“You know I don’t care what they say.” Eddie reassures you.

“I do! You had to face this for too long and I don’t want to be the reason you receive new insults. Besides, until everyone forgets all about it, they’ll always find a reason to call me a slut again. New rumours are probably already spreading thanks to Jessica.”

“Don’t listen to her. You remember what we talked about, you’re a slut and you’re proud of it so we don’t care about her.”

“I care.” you retort, firmly. “She almost ruined my school year and my relationship with my parents is at its lowest since our fight. And now, they know we’re friends and they start criticising me again. I felt like everything was going fine but now, it still seems so fragile, as if everything could go back to what it used to be in an instant.”

“It won’t be the case.” Eddie promises you, getting closer to you. “Plus, you’re not alone. You got me.”

“Why do you insist so much? We didn’t even know each other before all of this.”

“It’s true and at first, I wanted to talk to you to be sure you weren’t going through all of this alone but now, I care about you. I like you a lot and-”

“That’s what you say now until the day you’ll be fed up with all of this.” you interrupt him, having a flashback from your relationship with Steve.

“Y/N, I mean it when I say I don’t care what they say about you. I know they gave you a bad reputation because of your relationship. They don’t know what you’ve been through and Steve didn’t know how to be here for you but I’m not like him. You probably have some issue trusting me but have some faith in me when I say I’m not like them and that I like you a lot.” he affirms, putting his hand on your cheek. “You know I only follow my own rules and I’ll need more than a few rumours to make me run away.”

“I-”

“I know you’re scared to be hurt again and it’s okay.” he cuts you off, “but I promise you, I will always be by your side and trust me when I tell you I could be the one to treat you right, unlike the others, I know you’re an amazing girl and I don’t want to lose my chance. You mean a lot to me and I’m not gonna let you slip through my fingers because of some brainless teenagers.” Eddie says and you take a step back. “Don’t push me away because you’re scared. Don’t let go because of this reason. You can’t let them dictate your life anymore.”

“I thought I was ready but I’m not.” you inform, going backward. “Sorry, Eddie.”

And on those words, you leave school. You don’t care if you have some classes left, you need to get away. You need to take a step back from this whole situation. Eddie lets you go with a heavy heart, understanding your reasons.

The following day, you avoid Eddie like the plague, you know you got scared and the way you pushed Eddie away isn’t fair, considering everything he’s done for you but you can’t help it. Everything went downhill without a warning last time and you never want to go through this again so you preferred to run away before it could get worse.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean you’re not hurting. You miss Eddie. You knew you cared about him though before avoiding him, you didn’t know just how much. You have to stop yourself from running to him; you just want to be in his protective arms like the time you brokedown the first time you came to his place. You need him more than you imagined. And this feeling of missing him doesn’t get better when you discover a note in your locker. At first, you think about throwing it away, fearing another insult except you recognise Eddie’s handwriting. Your heart tightening, you open it and read it:

“Y/N,

I know why you pushed me away but please, think about it before isolating yourself once more. You know it’s not good. I’m here for you and I always will be, even if you only talk to me in thirty years. You mean a lot to me so I will always be by your side during the good and the hard times, especially during the hard ones.

I miss my friend. I miss your laugh. I miss your smile. I need my friend. All I need is you.

Please, don’t cut me out of your life because you’re scared of getting hurt or what people might say about me. I just want you, I don’t care about them.

Eddie”

After ignoring him for more than a week, you can’t stay away from Eddie any longer, you miss your friend too much. Eddie’s little note worked on you, though you try to deny it at first.

While you’re leaving school, you see Eddie close to his van talking to a Hellfire member. You watch him from afar, searching for what you want to tell him. The second you think you know what to say, you start walking toward him as you keep your eyes on his figure. You’re only a few metres away when his friends leave, allowing Eddie to notice you; he smiles as soon as he sees you. Eddie is about to talk to you when you put your hands on his cheeks and press your lips on his. Eddie is stunned at first then he kisses you back, enjoying your touch. You can hear some people talking around you but you don’t pay attention, only deepening the kiss. Eddie feels his heart exploding as he realises that for the first time in a while, you do something you want without caring what people might say about you. Eddie hands go from your hips to your cheeks, bringing you closer to him. Once you’re out of breath, you regretfully break the kiss, you have an idiotic smile on your face as you take in the moment.

“I don’t care what they say either. I just want you and that’s all that matters.” you affirm. “They can talk all they want, as long as I have you, I don’t care.”

Part one

Stranger Things Masterlist

#marie swriting in english #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #Spotify

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nottapossum · 3 months

Text

Itty bitty sinners part 1.3

LEGO HOUSE!

Tw: Implied r*pe and abuse, little in distress, implied abusive relationship, implied child abuse, being called a failure, crying, keeping secrets, hiding ones little headspace, lmk if I should add.

I'm gonna pick up the pieces And build a Lego house When things go wrong we can knock it down My three words have two meanings There's one thing on my mind, it's all for you And it's dark in a cold December But I've got ya to keep me warm And if you're broken I'll mend ya And I keep you sheltered from the storm That's raging on now.' Lego house ~Ed Sheeran.

~~~Sir Pentious and Charlie:~~~

“Okay, Pentious. I feel like the best way to get you to heal is if we start encouraging your regressed self to come out so we can heal that inner child!” Charlie announces.

“How are we supposed to do that?” Pentious asks. “I've never even refresssed before.”

“It's regressed, actually.” Charlie corrects. “And there are many ways to start! Today I think we should take it easy.” She explains. “Do something fun to relax you.”

“Okay? I suppose.” Pentious says. He does trust Charlie, he figures if she wanted to kill him, she already would have, so he has nothing to lose, right?

Charlie and Pentious are in her office for the hotel's very first regression session.

Charlie is no therapist or an expert on regression and healing- but, hey! How hard could it be?

Charlie offers her hand to Pentious, and he takes it.

She walks him over to the small couch and coffee table in the room.

“I got you a gift.” Charlie says, holding up a present wrapped in yellow and blue wrapping paper.

“A gift? For me?!” Pentious asks, his pupils expanded. But he stops himself from taking it. “Wait a minute- how do I know this isn't an explosive of some kind?” He asks.

“It's not.” Charlie says.

“That's exactly what someone who has an explosive would say!” He says. “You can't fool me, miss missy!” He hissed.

Charlie rolls her eyes. “Okay, I'll open it to prove there's nothing to be afraid of.”

“No! I want to open it!” Pentious says, taking the gift and unwrapping it.

“You sure you're not little now?” Charlie mumbles.

“What is this?” Pentious asks.

Under the paper, there was a box with a building of some sort on it, and when he shook it, it made a rattling noise.

“This is a lego set!” Charlie says. “I figured since you love to build, this would be the perfect toy for you.” She says. Charlie takes the box and opens it, pouring its contents onto the table.

“Well, now you've gone and broke my new box.” Pen complains.

“No no no, it's supposed to be opened.” Charlie says. “We follow this instruction manual to put the house together.”

Pentious looked at the colorful blocks with intrigue. “And this will help me ‘regress’ as you say?” He asks, adding quotation marks around the word ‘regress’.

“Can't hurt to try.” Charlie says. “Now, If you'd like, I can help you, but if you would rather do it yourself, that's okay too.”

“I…” Pentious thought about it for a moment but then smiled at Charlie. “I'd like to do it together.”

“Great! Let's start with bag one!” Charlie says.

Pentious agrees. He's actually feeling a lot calmer, more willing to try this.

He knows about building, there's no pressure in it, and at least he's not alone.

Charlie grabs the little booklet and they take turns following each page exactly.

Charlie started with the base, then told Pentious to do the next page.

“You're a natural at this, Pen. Are you sure you've never played with Legos before?”

“It's not rocket science.” He says as he places the blocks as the picture shows. “I'm used to working with heavier machinery than this.”

“Right, but still. You're doing a great job.” She says.

He was a little confused by the compliment, he didn't accomplish anything new, it was just a toy, right? It wasn't going to be used for anything practical.

But the compliments didn't stop there, every time he did something new, she told him he was doing a good job.

Having Charlie there to compliment everything he was doing… it was so different from what he was used to…

“Charlie?” He asks.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” She asks.

“Compliment me.” He explains. “It's nice- but they're only blocks. Right?”

“Right, but you are doing a good job.” She says. “It doesn't matter how big or small it is. It's nice to be noticed when you do something well. Right?”

Pentious looked down at the blocks again…

Suddenly he can recall being a kid.

He was always interested to see how things worked.

He was always interested in building, creating something magnificent!

He worked so hard, all the time.

Trying to be something! To change the world for the better…

‘You will never get anywhere with these lousy contraptions.’

‘You are a disgrace.’

‘He won't amount to much.’

‘So much wasted potential.’

And it never changed, the older he got, the degradation got worse.

Then, the worse he got.

‘You are a fucking loser.’

‘This is exactly why no one loves you.’

‘You must be really bad at this.’

Pentious's breathing tighten.

“Pen? Are you okay?” Charlie asks.

Pentious set his arms on the coffee table and set his chin atop of them. “You don't have to be nice to me.” He says. “I know you only do it because you have to.”

“I do it because I mean it.” Charlie says. “No one here has made as much progress as you have, Pen.” She says.

“There wasn't much to work with.” He mumbles.

Charlie rests a hand on his shoulder. “Pen, you are a lot…” She says.

Pentious raises an eyebrow.

“In a good way!” Charlie says loudly. “I just- you have so much good about you! I can see it. And in any case…you deserve kindness.”

“How?” He asks.

Charlie frowns. “Everyone deserves kindness, at least in the beginning. I'm sorry no one showed you that when you needed it.”

Pentious looked away from her again, not exactly sure how to respond…or process that.

Was kindness something he was supposed to be familiar with all along?

If kindness was something most kids understood…

Why wasn't he worthy of it before?

“Pentious?” Charlie asks. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” He says, wiping away some tears. “Don't worry about me.”

Charlie takes his hand. “Hey…”

Pentious turned to look at her.

“It's going to be okay, kiddo. Whoever hurt you before, they can't hurt you now.” She promised.

Pentious nods, trying to calm down. Why was he crying?! He shouldn’t be!

“Do you need a hug?” Charlie asks.

Pentious shakes his head. “No, I'm alright. I was just taken by surprise.” He explains.

Charlie nods. “It's okay, this is a safe place, no one here is going to judge you, especially not for showing emotion. It's a good thing, a healthy thing.”

“Are you sure about that?” Pentious asks.

“Absolutely.” Charlie says. “You're doing a great job; I am so proud of you.”

Pentious smiles despite the tears. “T-thank you, Charlie.”

~~~Vox and Velvette:~~~

Vox had only begun working when he got the call from Velvette.

“What's up, Vel?” He answered.

He hears soft crying on the other end of the call.

Oh shit. Not good.

“Vel?... Velbelle?” He asks. “What's going on? Are you okay? What happened?”

“Mmm.” She whines. “I-I tried to stay big, Vox.” she says, wiping some tears away. “I really did.”

“Hey, it's okay, Vel. It happens. Do you want me to take care of you?” He asks.

She nods. “Yeah.”

“Alright, I'll be right there, Princess. Hang on.” He says, hanging up on her.

Vox assigned jobs to his…employees then headed over to Velvette's room.

“Vel?” He asks, knocking on the door.

Velvette opened the door fast and hugged Vox tightly. “I'm sorry.” She cries, hugging him close.

“Hey, it's okay.” Vox says. “Did you call Val?” He asks.

Velvette nods. “After I called you, but he didn't answer.” She says.

Vox nods. “Alright.” He picks her up and sits down on the couch with her in his arms.

“It’s alright, baby. I'm here.” he says, patting her back gently. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” He asks.

Velvette shakes her head, then buries her face on his shoulder.

“Alright, Princess.” Vox pets her head gently. “You don't have to.”

Vel starts to relax against Vox, finally feeling calmer after the rough day she's had.

“Do you want anything, sweetie?” Vox asks.

Velvette doesn't want Vox to move, but she wants her doll.

Ugh! There's no predicament worse than this predicament!

She whines again, not wanting to say it- because Vox will move, and she can't have that right now!

Vox can tell Velvette is getting a little fussy, so he decides to put something on to calm her down.

The TV turns on and Sofia the first starts to play.

Vox texts Val to give him updates on Velvette, he's hoping he might take over sometime mid-day so he can get some work done.

But he got no response.

Velvette eventually gets up and grabs her dolls after the first few episodes of Sofia play.

“V?” Velvette asks.

“Yeah, Vel?” Vox asks.

“Play wif me?” She asks, handing him one of her dolls.

Vox smiles and takes the doll. “Anything for you, princess.”

He may have had a lot to do today, but Vox honestly didn't mind playing with her. He needs to practice hairstyling anyway.

And hey, if it brings a genuine smile to her face, it's worth missing a day of work.

~~~Charlie and Sir Pentious:~~~

Pentious finished the lego set. It was a decent sized set but it felt as if it took them no time at all.

“Great job, Pen! High-Five!” Charlie shouts

Pentious tilted her head. “High...what?”

“High-five! It's like clapping but with friends.” Charlie explains. “To congratulate you for a job well done.”

“Oh! Okay.” Pentious says.”How does it work?”

“You hold up your hand, and I will hit it with my hand and it'll make a clapping sound.”

“Oh, alright, I will give this high-fiving a try.” He says, pen held up a hand and Charlie high-fived him.

Pentious smiles. “That was…cool!” Pentious says. “Could I give you one?” He asks.

Charlie chuckles. “Sure thing.” She held up her hand and Pentious high-fived her back.

Pentious smiles, that was actually pretty fun.

“Pen, before we end this session, is it okay if I ask you some questions?” Charlie asks.

“Are they going to be as difficult as the questions on the test?”

“No, I'm just curious about how you felt today went.” She explains.

“Oh, well. I liked it…I had a nice time.” He says.

“Did it make you feel any younger?” Charlie asks next.

Pentious shrugs, he was reminded of his childhood a lot- but he still felt like the same person as always. Just- vulnerable-er.

“It's okay, we can try again tomorrow if you want.” Charlie suggests. “Even if you don't regress, it's a good stress reliever.”

“I think I would like that.” He agrees.

Today was fun! Even if it's a bit confusing…

But, either way he enjoyed spending time with Charlie and receiving complaints for his efforts.

Maybe this regression thing could actually help him.

~~~Vox, hours later:~~~

Vox has been with Velvette all day.

Not once did Val answer his texts or calls-

He's been spending all day today and yesterday with Angel Dust!

Something about ‘making him pay for leaving.’

But, it didn't fucking matter! They had a child to take care of, there are priorities!

Vox calls Val again, and this time he doesn't stop until Val answers.

“What?” Valentino answers harshly.

Oh, so he can answer the phone. How nice.

“Val, where are you? I've been trying to reach you all day!” Vox complains.

“I am with Angel Dust.” He purrs. “Why? Are you jealous, baby?” ~

“Val, why don't you leave Angel alone for now and meet me in Velvette's room?” Vox asks.

“Why would I do that?” Vox asks, very obviously smiling at something behind the phone. Probably Angel.

“Because we have a little…princess who needs our… special attention.”

Valentino is quiet for a moment. “What?”

Vox rubs his head. “For fucks sake.” He mumbles. “Velvette is regressed! And I could use some help.” Vox whispers harshly.

“Okay Okay, for Satan's sake, you don't need to shout.” Val says.

“Look, I have a lot of work to do, and-”

“Oh! And I don't?!” Val asks.

“Fucking with Angel is not work; besides you have been filming nonstop for two days. I think you’re due a break anyway. I have work that I haven't been able to accomplish because I've been taking care of Velvette while you ignored all her calls.”

“You can work from anywhere.” Val points out.

“Just-” Vox grips the phone tightly.

There's nothing the moth loved more than to get on his nerves.

“I'm not playing games, Val! Get. Over. Here!” Vox says.

“Fine, whatever.” Valentino hangs up.

Thank fuck!

Vox turns back to Velvette who was asleep in his arms.

“You're lucky you're so cute.” He says, petting her hair. “You know that?”

Velvette wrapped her arms around his neck.

Yeah, she knows.

~~~Valentino and Vox:~~~

Valentino hung up the phone, looking over at Angel who was absolutely exhausted.

Good, he should know who he belongs to.

“Looks like we'll have to cut today short.” He says. “But I want you all back here bright and early tomorrow!” He shouts.

The crew started to pack up their things.

Angel sighs in relief, seeming really happy to finally go home.

“Did you get that, Angel?” Valentino asks.

“Yes, Val.” Angel says, turning away from him.

“Good.” Val says, then walks out to meet the other V's.

~~~~

“Thank fuck, where have you been?” Vox asks as Valentino finally walks into the room.

“Had some things to take care of.” Val says. “What's her deal today?”

“I don't know, she didn't want to tell me.” Vox says.

“Aw, poor baby girl.” He says. “Did you have a rough day?” He asks the sleeping girl.

Vox hands Velvette over to Val. “Take this.”

“The fuck?” Val asks, still taking her though.

Vox sighs. “I told you I had important work. Plus, I've been with her all day. So guess what? Tag, you're it.” He says smiling before exiting the room to leave them.

Val rolls his eyes, but then smiles at Velvette. “You are lucky you're so cute, babydoll.” Valentino says to her.

~~~Alastor:~~~

Things were relatively quiet at the hotel, probably due to Charlie trying to fix everyone with her stupid test.

In what way does knowing someone acts like a child from time to time help them with redemption?

Why, Alastor has known many regressors who are also horrible fucking people- take him for example.

Being a regressor did not stop him from brutally murdering and eating the corpse of his very own-

“Alastor! I caught six bugs today! I stabbed them to death and drank their blood!” Niffty rambles as she jumps on Alastor's head, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hello, Niffty.” Alastor says. “How are you on this fine day?”

“Great! The flying goats flew away from me when I tried to give them a haircut today!”

“That's nice, dear.” Alastor says.

“Hey, Alastor, guess what?! Charlie said I'm not a pet anymore! Isn't that nuts!?” She asks, laughing. “I told her that was ridiculous! Ooo! And I saw a bug near Florence the stain! And I cleaned the hotel six times! Hehehe, It must be cleaaaaaan!!!” She giggles evilly.

Alastor exhales, and removes the young woman off his head. “Niffty, dear?”

“Yes?”

“Go play in your maze for a bit.” He says. “You need to wear yourself out so you'll actually sleep tonight.” He says. “We don't need you running around here after dark.”

“Okay!” Niffty squeaks and runs to her room.

Alastor chuckles, oh how he adores Niffty’s energy and enthusiasm.

What was he thinking about? Oh yes, Charlie's regular delusions.

Oh, when will she ever learn?

~~~Charlie:~~~

“Vaggie Vaggie Vaggie!!!” Charlie runs full speed towards her girlfriend. She grabs her hand and swings her around.

“Woah- what happened?” Vaggie asks once they stopped spinning.

“Today's session with Pentious was amazing! I feel like I can really make a difference and help them all heal!” Charlie says excitedly.

“And by them all, you mean Angel and Pentious, right?” Vaggie asks.

“I mean all of them!” She says. “I mean Angel and Pentious, Niffty and Husk, and Alastor!”

“Charlie…” Vaggie rests her hands on her girlfriend's shoulders. “Remember that conversation about taking things too far and buying the whole little store? We're there.” Vaggie says. “You can't force someone to heal if they don't want to.”

“I know that!” Charlie says. “I'll just lightly suggest it a few times, and eventually when they want to heal, I'll be here!” She says.

“Charlie, I know you want to help them but remember when we talked about boundaries.” She reminds.

“Don't worry, Vaggie. I won't do anything too extreme; I promise.” She says. “Ooo! What if we built a whole nursery for everyone!?”

She hears the front door of the hotel opening, and Charlie grips Vaggie's hands excitedly. “I'll bet that's Angel! I'm going to tell him the awesome news!”

“Charlie, wait-” Vaggie tries to stop her, but it's too late.

~~~Angel:~~~

Angel walked back into the hotel, exhausted and overwhelmed.

How can someone be so fucking cruel?

‘How could you be so cruel, I was just trying to help you!’

Angel shivers at the memory.

He has to stop going back there…

“Oh, Angel!” Someone touches his shoulder, causing him to flinch and jump back violently. “Ah!-”

“Oh, sorry.” Charlie says. “You okay?”

“What do you want, Charlie?” Angel sighs in both annoyance and relief.

“Where have you been? It's been two days.” Charlie says.

Angel crosses his arms “Uhm work. Where else would I be?” He asks.

“Oh right. Well, after everyone took the test, we've been working on improving the hotel by helping everyone's individual needs, and it's been going great!” She says.

“Cool.” Angel says as apathetic as possible in hopes she'll actually get the message that he's not interested in talking to her right now.

He starts to move again when Charlie grabs his arm. “What?” He asks, annoyed.

“We were hoping you might take the test too.” Charlie says.

“I'm good.” He says, continuing to walk upstairs to his room.

“Oh…okay.” Charlie says. “Well, I'm here if you change your mind!” She shouts so he can hear her.

Angel shuts and locks the door and exhales sharply.

He's okay, he's here, he's at the hotel now, he's fine!

He takes a second to calm down as tears pour down his face.

What a lousy fucking week.

He hated Val more than he ever thought possible!

He kneels onto the floor next to his bed and removes the floorboards under it.

He pulls out his special box he had stashed away.

Angel grabs the key (which was hidden inside his pillowcase.) And unlocks the box. He grabs his small baby blanket he had hidden inside it.

He keeps digging through the box for his pacifier, but it's not there.

He looks around the room, it has to be here! Where is it?

Then he felt a small scratch on his leg.

He looks down and sees Fat Nuggets, holding the pacifier by the handle in his mouth.

Angel takes it from him. “Thanks, Nuggs.” He pets the little pig then holds him close.

He puts his binkie in his mouth and crawls onto the bed, holding Nuggets and the blanket close to him.

He’s okay…

He’s safe now.

Val can’t hurt him…

Not here…

No one can.

Yeah.

Angel's tears fall faster as he sinks his face into his pillow.

He wished he could believe that…

He pulls out his phone real quick and puts on an episode of Peppa Pig.

He finds himself suddenly smiling.

And he can finally relax.

'I'm out of touch, I'm out of love I'll pick you up when you're getting down And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now.' ~Ed Sheeran, Lego house.

Notes: I know it's not super interesting yet, but it'll get there, I promise.

@todayimfour

#ittybittysinners #little!Angeldust #little!Agel dust #little!Angel #little!Pentious #little sir pentious #helluverse age regression #hazbin hotel agere #hazbin hotel age regression

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sednonamoris · 5 months

Text

thunderstruck

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: A storm brews over your journey with John to meet an old friend and make a profit on the Braithwaite horses. What will happen when lightning strikes?

Warnings: Jealousy, emotional constipation, past relationships, strong language, love confessions, handjobs, penetrative sex, spit as lube (smut easily avoided if you want to skip over it)

Word count: 4,418

A/N: whew!! twenty-three chapters later these two finally got together - i hope you all have enjoyed the ride, and look forward to the rest as much as i do!! let me know what you think <3

Series masterlist • AO3

—

Thunderhead Gulch is an average plains town situated, as the name might suggest, over a gulch where a violent stream rumbles through otherwise quiet countryside. The rockiness of the area lends itself to pastureland and little else; herds of cattle roam and graze, and farmers with rough hands and kind eyes tend their flocks. The town’s storefronts are simple but well-kept, very much like the people who run them. It’s a place for good, honest people looking for good, honest work.

And it’s exactly where a perfect criminal lives.

Half a week’s worth of travel brought you here, all the while John asking questions you’ve done your best to avoid answering. An old friend from Tumbleweed, is all you’ve told him about the forger you’re meeting. Just a quick reunion and a job done right and we’re out of there. There’s no one else you’d trust to do this job right, but it’s been a long time. You can’t entirely blame John for the skeptical scowl on his face.

The curio shop you hitch your horses in front of is nestled into Thunderhead’s downtown like it’s been there forever, fit to burst with every secondhand oddity imaginable. Broken clocks and one-eyed dolls and discontinued dime novel serials line the front windows. Inside, a narrow and winding footpath from front to back is all that remains to customers. Every other square inch has been claimed by stacks upon stacks upon stacks of the curiosities this shop is named for.

You and John squeeze your way through the door to the cheerful tinkle of bells. Behind the counter lies a precarious stack of antique bear traps. There’s not a shopkeep in sight.

“Hello?” John calls out.

“In the back!” a muffled voice replies.

You smile in recognition. John’s expression is entirely mystified, but he takes the look on your face as his go-ahead to forge a path through, weaving around cracked China displays and rusted revolvers and moth-eaten wedding gowns.

Past all that, between stacks of other men’s trash and lost treasures, sits Lottie Reed.

Surprise colors her sharp, angular face the moment she looks up from the faded throw pillow she’s mending, and though time has wrought its changes you still recognize the wild spirit you met once upon a childhood ago in the depths of her seafoam eyes.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a Ghost?” she asks. Her face is still surprised, still cautious, but a smile threatens the severity of her shock.

“I’m afraid your shop is terribly haunted, Miss,” you grin.

Just like that her needle and thread are thrown aside as she rushes in for a hug. Her wiry frame curls around you in a vice grip, stood on her tip-toes and clinging like if she holds tight enough you won’t be able to fade away like lost memory. You laugh and hug back warmly. It’s been too long.

John coughs uncomfortably after a moment.

“Oh, I clean forgot my manners,” you say, extricating yourself from Lottie’s embrace and taking a step back. “Lottie Reed, this is John Marston.” John gives a lukewarm smile. “John Marston, this is my old friend Lottie Reed. We grew up together.” Lottie extends her hand to shake.

“Good to meet you,” John says past his stiff shoulders and wary stare. “Ghost never mentioned much of you before.”

“We lost touch for a spell once I married and moved up here,” Lottie says. John raises his brows. You clear your throat. “Back in the day I earned a cut off stolen horseflesh for forging papers, but Melvin didn’t like me being a part of that life.”

As you recall, he didn’t like you being a part of Lottie’s life. The two of you lived fast and free before he came into the picture, a perfect suitor picked by her parents. Settled, property-owning, and respectable, Melvin was everything Lottie’s family ever imagined for their lettered daughter. You, a cast off orphan with nothing to your name but a government arrest warrant, were not.

“Wherever is Mr. Reed?”

“Dead. The fever got him two years ago.” Lottie smiles wistfully. “I wrote, but I don’t imagine you ever got the letter.”

“I’m… real sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing because he’s dead or for a letter you never read. Maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t try to get in touch until now. You never liked Melvin much, but you and Lottie... Well. It’s all in the past now, where things get twisted and lost and can’t ever change.

“Any chance you’re still in the paper fixin’ business?” John asks. Tension looses from your shoulders at the change in topic. “Ghost and I got a couple horses that need buyers, and from what I understand they’d go for a prettier penny with your help.”

Lottie stands up straighter, businesslike, when she says yes.

“Melvin left me everything, but as you can see,” she gestures to the worthless paraphernalia surrounding you, “it isn’t much. Why don’t you stay by the house tonight while I fix up those papers? It’s been a sight too empty for too long. I’d like the company.”

“We’ll be there,” you promise, clasping her hand before stepping away.

It’s been too long since you’ve slept in a proper bed with a roof over your head, and longer still since you’ve caught up with an old friend. John’s mouth tightens when you say it, maybe because you agreed without asking, but you can’t imagine why a hot meal and some company would bother him. It never has before.

—

Dinner proves an awkward affair.

By the time you and John broke camp and herded your stolen horses to the property, twilight had already painted the house and neighboring barn in dreamy purples and golds. John bitched the whole time you put the horses up, set off by something he refused to tell you about. Then when Lottie met you at the front door in a pretty green dress with her dark curls pulled up it only got worse. She ushered you both into her humbly lit dining room, where a wonderful meal awaited. He glared through the whole affair, despite the warmth of the fire and the kindness piled on every plate. You asked for seconds. He asked to be excused.

Now he’s off sulking somewhere while you show Lottie the horses down at the barn. So long as he doesn’t scare any buyers away you just have to trust that this mood of his will pass with time.

Old Father Time nickers you back to the present, begging for a treat that Lottie offers up gladly. She giggles at the tickle of his whiskers when he takes it from her outstretched palm. His dark coat gleams even in the nighttime. Autocrat paws and tosses his dappled head. Cerberus whickers for his own share of attention, earning an affectionate scratch behind the ear. As you introduce each stallion and his accomplishments Lottie hums thoughtfully, mentions a few adjustments she’d like to make on their papers accordingly. It’s nice to work with a professional. You’d almost forgotten what the luxury of forged papers felt like, so long spent with unlettered outlaws and people otherwise uninterested in the horse business.

“They’re fine animals,” Lottie says, then gestures to Old Boy and Moonshine. “What about these two?”

“I found Old Boy there skinny and abandoned. Perfect timing that John needed a new horse. He put the weight back on him and has him trained up nice.”

“And the roan?”

“A friend died and left this beast behind,” you say with an affectionate pat to Moonshine’s silver-blue neck over the stall door. He rolls an ornery eye at you, but doesn’t offer a bite like he might have just a few months ago. “He’s mean, but he’s mine.”

Lottie laughs. “Like your cowboy, then.”

“He ain’t—we’re not—” you fumble, “I don’t—”

“The outlaw doth protest too much, methinks,” she cuts you off gently, with that smile full of home and heartbreak. The quote scratches at almost-lost memory in the back of your mind. Summers spent sneaking into a family home through the second story bedroom window. A warm hand in yours. Her familiar voice reciting Shakespeare while you pretended to understand the lines you parroted back.

“The outlaw protests just enough,” you frown. “He ain’t mine, though I will apologize on his behalf for the way he acted at dinner. John’s plenty mean, but not like that. Not usually, anyway.”

“He’s jealous,” she says like it’s obvious. “I can hardly blame him.”

“If he wants you, I ain’t standin’ in the way, Miss High-and-Mighty,” you laugh, caught off guard by the sudden turn in conversation. It’s a high-up, nervous sound.

“Miss Nothing-to-him,” she corrects. “Can’t you see? That man only has eyes for you.”

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear and you’re not quite sure what to say. Emotions flash through you like lightning and brush fire, electric scorches of surprise and denial and self-deprecation. Longing. Hope.

“You think?” is all you manage to muster.

Lottie’s eyes are far too sympathetic. “I know.”

“And you don’t… mind?” Your shoulders cringe even as you ask it. Some things are just worth checking.

She sighs, turns to face you fully, and takes your hands in hers. “I loved after you for a long time. The idea of you, really. A dashing outlaw and a horseback rescue from the life I didn’t want.” She offers a wry smile as she continues, “I only heard that you took Daddy’s money and ran long after the wedding was over.” You start to apologize, but she cuts you off before it ever leaves your mouth. “It’s done, now. I don’t think either of us would go back and change it if we could. I’m happy here, now, and you have your cowboy. Your John. It’s time you let yourself be happy, too.”

“Funny enough, you’re not the first person who’s said that to me.” You drop your chin and try to stop the burn of tears that threatens your composure as you squeeze her bookish hands with your calloused ones. “Thank you, Lottie.”

She squeezes back and smiles. “You’re welcome.”

When she says your name, you feel a little less like a ghost.

—

On the walk back up to the house you spy movement in an upstairs window. Just a blur by candlelight.

You wonder how much John saw from up there. If jealousy burns his eyes and the back of his throat the way it used to for you, watching him and Abigail together. It lights a spark of something low in your belly, hope or want or vindication. A grim, simmering promise of things to come.

—

The next morning greets you sunshine-bright and singing. The grasses sway gently with the breeze. The birds flit from leafy tree limbs outstretched in the sky’s great blue embrace. Lottie insists on giving you not only the agreed-upon papers, but breakfast for the road as well. The fistfull of cash you fetch from your saddlebag is more than she asked for, but when she protests you push her hands back gently. After everything, it’s fitting payment.

“Ride safe, now,” she tells you, shielding the sun from her greenglass eyes to look up at your mounted form. “It’s nice now, but a storm’s brewing. Can you smell it on the breeze?”

You can. Sunshine undercut with petrichor and the buzzing, electric promise of lightning. “We will. Thank you again, Lottie. For everything.” Live well.

“The same to you, old friend,” she smiles your way, then turns to John. “Keep an eye on this one, will you?”

“Always do.” His voice is curt, and his eyes are sharp and unkind when he says it.

Mean, you think as you sneak a look at his striking profile. But mine.

You wave one last goodbye before riding off, stolen horses in tow, false paperwork tucked into your breast pocket. The pair of you make for the horizon line and don’t look back.

—

John is quiet in the coming days. Uncharacteristically so. You catch him staring at you when he thinks you don’t see; eyeing the length of your neck as you drink from your canteen, memorizing the planes of your face lit by campfire, burning a hole in your back as you ride ahead. All the ways you’ve watched him since you were young and scared and barely knew what to call the ache in your chest and the scorch of your want. That anguish which even now you refuse to name; you know what it is.

Maybe Lottie was right.

Maybe John knows it too.

—

As you ride toward the next town, and the next one, and the next, the sky darkens from shades of blue to grey to not-quite-black. The storm hasn’t hit yet, but rain heralds its coming on the wind. In the hoofbeats of the horses you hear thunder.

—

A man in tweed with a curled mustache buys Cerberus behind a saloon in Split River. John orders you both a round of drinks to celebrate. His fingers brush against yours when you toast your glasses together. It tastes of wildfire. Stings the whole way down.

You’re forced to leave when he almost takes a man’s head off for asking you to share a dance shortly after. The jaunty fiddle tune haunts your steps into the lamplit streets as you beat your hasty retreat, John’s shoulder clasped tight beneath your burnt whiskey fingertips.

—

In Steelhead, a farmer with a nose for a pedigree takes Autocrat off your hands. That night he puts the pair of you up with his other farmhands to get you out of the nighttime chill. It’s a kindness you hadn’t counted on, but it feels cruel the moment you see a man, broad and strong with eyes the same shade as yours, agree to light John’s cigarette. Across the room they lean in close. Closer. The butts of their cigarettes glow shrouded in smoke as they share the intimacy of nicotine breath, but the whole time John’s eyes are on yours. A punishment. A dare.

In a bedroll as far from everyone else as the room allows, you don’t sleep a wink.

The following morning breaks grey and ominous. You can’t leave the place far enough behind.

—

Rushing Spring houses Old Father Time’s new owner, a fashionable young woman whose father can refuse her nothing. He barely looks the horse over before offering more than your asking price, and you shake his hand without giving him a moment to think twice.

“Better get going if we want to beat this weather,” John says as they walk away with their new purchase. His eyes are squinted up at the sky, storm grey and swirling. It’s the most he’s offered to speak since Lottie’s.

“You’re right,” you agree. But as you glance up at the churning clouds above you, you’re not so sure that you will.

—

The rain catches you the next afternoon in open country, not a settlement in sight. It starts as a drizzle, errant drops that speckle the leather of your saddle and pepper Moonshine’s coat, but soon crescendos into an all-out pour. It comes so thick and fast that you can hardly see John and Old Boy just a horselength in front of you. John turns to shout something over the downpour, but the wind snatches his words. It’s too dark to read his lips.

When he turns his horse away you follow blind.

There’s a rockface somewhere off to the left, you know. You’ve seen irregular shelves and outcroppings from a distance. Maybe John spied something like that before the rain came? Maybe he’s just trusting that he’ll find shelter before an errant lightning strike hits anything nearby. Whatever the case is, his luck holds. You endure only a few more minutes of being utterly soaked before the dark, yawning mouth of a cave opens up before you.

The horses shake their dripping coats the moment you step inside. Their unshod hoofbeats echo with the rainfall. Lightning flashes, lighting your surroundings for a heartbeat and a half. It’s enough to see that the cave doesn’t run dangerously deep; you need not fear it housing some slumbering bear or wildcat’s den, but it’s enough to keep the rain from soaking you entirely. So long as it doesn’t flood, you guess.

Without so much as a word you and John fall into a routine that’s been established since you were kids. You untack and hobble the horses, toweling them dry as best you can. Moonshine tenses beneath your hands at the distant rumble of thunder rolling ever closer. John starts a fire and gets to warming food. Canned beans, it looks like. Better than nothing. You set the tent tarp on the ground to keep the bedrolls dry. The extra blankets you have packed away aren’t quite wet. It’s a sadder, damper camp than you normally pull together, but in the wake of this weather you’d be hard-pressed to do better.

You huddle close to the small fire with your plate of food. John sits opposite you and says nothing. Just watches. You watch back. The way his sharp features accentuate with shadow. The way his damp skin is drenched in firelight. His hair is plastered to his cheek, and your fingers twitch with longing to smooth it back and kiss the raindrops from his lips. When the next lightning strike flashes, you see unmasked want reflected back in his eyes.

“John…” you start, but can’t find the right words. How do you give voice to thoughts you’ve smothered for years now? How would you even begin?

“I need a drink after all that,” he says, pulling his flask from his belt and taking a swig. “How ‘bout you?”

Your mouth is terribly dry. “Sure.”

The offer doesn’t surprise you, but the way he hands it over, slow and deliberate, your fingers brushing together, does. Instead of retreating back to his side of the fire he remains with his hungry eyes and sharp mouth. You can’t quite bring yourself to look away as you drink. It burns like whiskey, but it tastes like him.

“Somethin’ else out there,” he says, inclining his head toward the mouth of the cave. Lightning flashes, and a clap of thunder - the closest one yet - punctuates his statement. “Reminds me of all them years ago, picking you up out of the mud. You remember that?”

“How could I forget? Saved my life.” Marked it forever. Changed it. For better or for worse.

“Every time it storms I think about that day,” he confesses. His hand reaches up for your face, cupping your cheek. You swear your heart stops. His brows knit together. “I don’t know that I would’ve saved anyone else.”

“I’m not sure I would’ve let anyone else do the saving.”

The rough pad of his thumb strokes the side of your neck. You swallow past a dry mouth and watch his eyes trace the line of your throat. Firelight flickers across his features. He leans in closer.

“It was always gonna be you and me, wasn’t it?” His breath fans your lips; whiskey and want.

Lightning arcs across the sky outside, lighting his face in that same eerie glow it did the day you met. He’s so beautiful. You’re so tired of pretending.

Before the thunder has a chance to crash, you answer him with a kiss.

It’s everything.

Electric.

You feel the boom of thunder in your chest when it comes, feel his hands wandering there and know it’s where they’ve always belonged. When he bites your lip and pushes you onto your back, your body accommodates him without thinking. He settles into the space between your legs and pulls back just long enough to admire, a wolfish gleam in his eye. What a sight you must be, spread out and chest heaving, eyes blown wide with years’ worth of want, face half-lit by the fire.

“Fuck,” he says, breathless, and then kisses you again. “Should’a done that sooner.”

But you’re here now, and it’s everything you could ever want or imagine. Better, somehow. You know John better than you know yourself and still his passion surprises you as he presses chapped-lip kisses further and further down your neck. You gasp when he bites down and feel him smirk against your rainsoaked skin. He’s paid back in kind with a sharp tug at the root of his hair, your hand tangled in those long, dark strands. A groan sounds from deep in his chest and he pulls away long enough for you to see the grey of his eyes go black.

“Tell me you want this,” he says.

“I want it.” You squirm, rolling your hips against his just to see desire glaze across his face. “I want you.”

“Shit, Ghost,” he says. “You always had me. I’m yours. It’s all yours.”

Whether he means his body or his heart or his soul you don’t rightly know. Right now you hardly care. All you know is that his hands are all over you at once, pulling layer after layer of soaked clothing away until you’re almost completely bare beneath him. Your nipples pebble against the sudden exposure to evening storm air, and his hungry eyes watch your every move, every breath beneath him. He’s a sight himself; half hard already, those soaked-through breeches plastered to his skin leaving little to the imagination. His hair is all a mess and his scars stand out against scarlet and his eyes are dark and bright. You help him tear his clothes away and grin when his broad, lean chest gleams in the flickering light of the campfire. You run your fingers against the dark hair there and feel him shudder beneath your touch. Heat rushes to your core when he removes his pants, leaving his cock exposed and flush against his stomach. You move to lick a stripe down your hand when he grabs your wrist.

“Don’t,” he says, face flushed. Eyes bright. “I like when it hurts, a little.”

He licks his lips. You grin and take him in your hand. His breath catches and his hips stutter as you set a slow, steady, punishing rhythm.

“Goddamn,” he curses. “Just like that.”

You’re dizzy with power and want. Seeing the effect you have on him, his chest heaving, his eyes rolled toward the heavens, makes that simmering warmth in your belly start to boil over. You smooth a calloused fingerpad over his tip just to watch him shudder. Precup smears. His eyes squeeze shut, and all too soon he’s pushing your hands away.

You tilt your head in question and he grins, half-shy. “I ain’t gonna last if you keep that up.”

“That’s the point, dumbass.”

He shakes his head, bends to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Want to feel you, first.”

Heat floods your body from your chest to your fingertips at the confession.

Hard to argue with that.

He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat watching you wriggle out of your pants, moaning outright when you take his hand and put his fingers in your mouth. His eyes glaze over and he thrusts them to the back of your throat just once to see what happens. You hum around them. His eyes go even darker.

Hesitantly, maybe even a little reverently, he starts to work you open. The further he goes and the more you relax into it, the rougher and more confident he becomes. One finger becomes two, becomes three. Still you want more.

“Yeah?” he says as you moan, half cocky and half like he can’t believe he’s the lucky son of a bitch making you see stars. You hate that it wrecks you the way that it does.

“Yeah,” you breathe, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you back properly, thoroughly, before lining up to your entrance and thrusting in all at once. It’s that special kind of too-much ecstasy, your vision going dark and your voice keening at the sensation.

“Shit, you feel good,” he whines.

“Please, John,” you say, though you’re not sure what you’re begging for other than more.

Lightning screams through the storming sky outside and his pale skin glows in white-hot light. He takes you apart to the sound of fading thunder and falling rain. You shift to meet the thrust of those narrow hips halfway, and rake your fingers down his back with each burst of pleasure. If there’s such a thing as completion, it must be this. The way your bodies fit together, the way you know every thought that flashes behind the wolfish want in his eyes. Each unspoken, understood I love you. He taught you to do it long before he recognized the feeling returned, and when you finally reach the peak of your pleasure you sigh it into his skin.

I love you, John Marston.

“Fuck, Ghost,” he pants. “Fuck. I love you too.”

His thrusts get sloppy, chasing his own high, and when he pulls out and spends himself across your stomach his voice cracks saying your name. It’s never sounded sweeter.

After a few settling breaths John leans down and presses a firm kiss to your forehead. You miss his warmth for only moments when he rolls away to find a rag to clean you up. The two of you fall asleep in one another’s arms. Outside, the rain slows and fades away to a drizzle, then nothing.

—

You wake the next morning to wiry arms wrapped around you and John’s face pressed into your stomach. He snores softly, and you allow yourself a quiet moment to admire his sleeping form. It’s impossible to stop the fond smile that steals across your face. Carefully, carefully, you extricate yourself from his embrace.

When you step outside, morning birdsong greets you. The grass beneath your feet is as dewy as the pinks and yellows and robin’s egg blues that paint the sky above. It’s the kind of sunrise that only comes after a storm.

You lean against the rockface and light a cigarette, watching the smoke dissipate on the fresh morning breeze. It isn’t long before John joins you. Wordlessly you pass him your cigarette, and wordlessly he takes a drag. He breathes smoke into the air and smiles.

Together you watch the sun rise.

#john marston x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #fran writes #ghost story #ch. 23

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thedansemacabres · 5 months

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Ares as... rooster?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

[ID: An image of a brown-gold rooster cawing. The rooster has a large, six-pointed comb and orange-red round eyes. The background is blurry, highlighting the rooster's neck and face.]

ARES IS A WONDERFUL GOD, and there is little academia about him in particular. There is much about the analysis of him in the Iliad and function in myth, but less about his cultus and more obscure traits. While researching, I stumbled upon a very different Ares….as a rooster. So, as a quick post, here is a small bit on Ares and roosters.

ROOSTERS IN ANCIENT GREECE

Roosters are funny creatures. They’re very feisty, but also sometimes cowardly—affectionate, but terribly bloodthirsty. I have worked with several roosters in my time, and they’ve either been useless or fiends. Hens are often much better at their jobs. A good rooster though is priceless, and I’ll never forget the white tufted rooster at my job we used to have that would cuddle but also attack dogs if they dared step near his flock. Perhaps due to this, Ares also gained an association with roosters—he’s certainly the good kind, if he is to be compared to a rooster.

Chickens were originally thought to have arrived in the Archaic era, aided by chickens being termed the “Persian bird.” Sacred roosters may have even appeared in temples, perhaps suggesting to us as modern polytheists to raise birds in devotion to the gods. They were not a common bird, coming in slowly from West Asia—with divine association, appearing on temples and later into Egypt in which they were connected to the pharaoh. Their ability to produce meat and eggs also made them far more convenient than pigs or cattle, along with consuming less resources. When the bird then reached the Minoans, it possibly gained martial connotations and appeared on Minoan seals.

Chickens in ancient Greece gained many associations—naturally with Helios, but also with childbirth, Selene and her lunar cycles, Apollon and Asklepios, as a chthonian being with Hermes and Persephone, and as a symbol of rebirth and transition.

THE MYTH OF ARES AND THE ROOSTER

There is also the story of Ares’ soldier and lover Alcetyron, who failed to guard the door to Ares and Aphrodite’s affair, allowing Helios to witness the couple:

“Mi. Why, to be sure, I have heard something like this before about a cock. It was the story of a young man called Alectryon; he was a lover of Ares,—used to join in his revels and junketings, and give him a hand in his love affairs. Whenever Ares went to pay a sly visit to Aphrodite, he used to take Alectryon with him, and as he was particularly afraid that Helios would see him, and tell Hephaestus, he would always leave Alectryon at the door, so that he might give him warning when the Helios was up. But one day Alectryon fell asleep, and unwittingly betrayed his trust; the consequence was that the Sun got a peep at the lovers, while Ares was having a comfortable nap, relying on Alectryon to tell him if any one came. Hephaestus heard of it, and caught them in that cage of his, which he had long had waiting for them. When Ares was released, he was so angry with Alectryon that he turned him into a cock, armour and all, as is shown by his crest; and that is what makes you cocks in such a hurry to crow at dawn, to let us know that the Sun is coming up presently; it is your way of apologizing to Ares, though crowing will not mend matters now.”

This story is then better explained by An Argument for a Bronze Age Introduction of the Cock in Ancient Greece by Jorrit M. Kelder:

Perhaps the bird served a double purpose, both as a symbol of ‘transition’ (including the various stages in the cycle of life) and virility. This double connotation may be reflected in the story of Alectryon, a companion of Ares, whose failure to warn his master (who was having an illicit affair with Aphrodite) of the arrival of Helios resulted in his transformation into a cock. The story, first attested in Lucian (Gallus 3), may well be a late one, designed to explain the name and manifold associations of the cock. None of these associations can with certainty be identified in Bronze Age Aegean iconography, though the presence of an altar on the Zakros sealing indicates that the bird could (also) serve some purpose in the religious sphere.

This dialogue continues on and the rooster reveals himself to be Pythagoras after thoroughly roasting the man he was speaking to.

ARES AS ROOSTER

Continuing on, paper I was reading explored slightly on the topic of gods as birds or bird-hybrids, such as Athene the owl, Hermes the chicken, and Ares the rooster:

This likely represents Ares the fighting rooster—a symbol of virtuality, and extended to his son Eros with eroticism and ancient Greek homosexuality. Cockfighting was a common sport in ancient Greece, likened with ‘masculine’ prowess in sports and even appearing on Panathenaic amphorae.

Admittedly, I found this most comedic and wonderful. I’m not completely sure what to do with this information beyond associating Ares with roosters, but it is a fun tidbit on him indeed. Roosters and chickens overall have a vast lore behind them, whether that is with the sun or as a symbol of death. Today, chickens are such a common aspect of life—we can simply go out and buy some eggs and chicken meat. However, two thousand years ago, I could imagine someone being beyond excited to finally be able to have a chicken in their life. From this small research spree for Ares, I have gained a new appreciation for chickens. Perhaps that is the blessing that he has given us in being a divine cock.

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References

Allinson, F. G., Fowler, H. W., & Fowler, F. G. (1906). The Works of Lucian of Samosata: Complete with Exceptions Specified in the Preface. American Journal of Philology, 27(4), 455. https://doi.org/10.2307/288891

Eckerman, C. (2012). Cockfighting and the Iconography of Panathenaic Amphorae. Illinois Classical Studies, 37, 39–50. https://doi.org/10.5406/illiclasstud.37.0039

Kelder, J. M. (2021). AN ARGUMENT FOR A BRONZE AGE INTRODUCTION OF THE CHICKEN IN GREECE. Mediterranean Archaeology, 34/35, 1–14. https://www.jstor.org/stable/48691680 Spier, J. (2010). Most fowl: athena, ares, and hermes depicted as birds on engraved gems. Pallas. https://doi.org/10.4000/pallas.11101

#dragonis.txt #ares deity #ares worship #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polythiest #helpol #hellenic paganism #pagan #paganism #witchblr #witchcraft #theoi

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

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Fireleaf (Part Twenty-Two)

Hiiii! Sorry about the wait on this one — life has been an emotional rollercoaster recently 😬but here’s 22! 23 will be the final chapter 😭 @greeneyedivy our baby is all grown up 😭 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT. SWEET, PASSIONATE HOETRY🌶️🌶️

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All seven of the courts had felt the tremor.

Not a physical thing, but…a shifting of power. A change.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had been felled. There would be relief amongst most, and perhaps a feeling of disappointment amongst those who thought the way Beron Vanserra had, who saw the world through the same narrowed eyes.

Azriel would feel nothing but a quiet satisfaction. He wouldn’t waste another thought on the callous bastard.

“So Eris now becomes High Lord.” Cassian scoffed from the chair beside him. “Are all Vanserras not the same? Are we not just losing one viper and replacing it with another?”

Azriel was usually the first to agree, but…his mind flitted back to that courtiers meeting at the Sacred Mountain. How Lucien and Dion’s fiancee had attended on behalf of the Autumn Court. How Y/N had handed Azriel a hand-written note from Eris.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is up to something. Destruction is coming. I offer you forewarning in hope of any assistance you can spare. It is time we put aside our troubles in the interest of everyone who might become caught up in my father’s mess.

Azriel had kept an eye on the Autumn Court since then. Had seen exactly what Beron had been up to. “Eris speaks the truth,” he said.

Cassian snorted. “For once.”

“Beron had begun killing the people of his own court. The power was going to his head. It was only so long before he would start turning on others, also.”

“That doesn’t mean that Eris—”

“Bad and bloody histories aside, Cassian,” Rhysand interjected, “Eris went behind his father’s back to warn us — perhaps to warn other courts, too, for all we know. And then he plunged a knife into his heart. Ended him.”

The Illryian general crossed his broad arms over his chest. “So…what? We’re to trust him now?”

“I didn’t say that.” Rhys shrugged. “But to be a new High Lord is a precarious position to be in. Every other High Lord, every other court, will be sniffing Eris Vanserra out to suss what kind of High Lord he’s going to be. They’ll be looking for vulnerabilities, weaknesses. The transition into power does not come without a target on your back.”

Azriel nodded once. “He’ll be looking for allies. People he can trust.”

“He’ll need help.” Rhysand concurred. “And it is never a bad thing, Cassian, to be needed. Should he have poor intentions, we’ll be the first to know. And if he’s genuine, then, well…perhaps it’ll be a step towards mending the strained relations between our two courts.”

A muscle in Cassian’s jaw ticked; a sure sign of disapproval. “So what you’re saying,” he said, “is that I should start making friendship bracelets?”

“What I’m saying is that Eris Vanserra needs our alliance right now. And perhaps he’s full of shit. Totally possible.” The High Lord sat back. “But perhaps he longs for a better world as much as we do.”

There was no arguing the matter; not under their High Lord’s command. So Cassian stretched his arms over his head and kept his opinions to himself, no matter how badly they wanted to burst from his mouth.

Rhysand’s knowing violet eyes turned to the shadowsinger. “Go to the Autumn Court on behalf of ours, Az.” He said. “Offer the new High Lord our assistance.”

So Azriel did.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There was an area in the southernmost part of the Autumn Court that even the varying shades of reds and yellows and oranges didn’t touch.

A cold and empty landscape of beige, broken only by the gargantuan structure that housed Autumn’s most cold-blooded criminals. A fortress made of rare, unbreakable stone and steel, everything about it felt wrong. Sickening and oily. One glance at its domineering facade could have a person turning on their feet and running in the other direction.

Which was precisely what you wished to do.

A warm hand slid across the small of your back. “You don’t have to do this,” Lucien spoke into your ear. “Just say the word, and we’ll go straight back home.”

Gods above, you were tempted. It would be so, so easy to bury your head in the sand and pretend that your father wasn’t somewhere within those walls with answers you so desperately needed.

But you thought of Eris. Eris had been brave. Eris had faced everything head-on.

So you would, too.

“It’s fine.” You plastered a watery smile on your face. “I’m ready.”

Lucien’s hand enclosed around yours, and together you walked the dreadful path to the looming building. The sentries stationed all around the place took one glimpse at your mate’s Vanserra features, the confidence and authority with which he carried himself, and allowed you to enter.

If outside was domineering, then inside was…suffocating.

Immediately, it was like having your head shoved underwater. You gulped down as much air as you could whilst you followed a guard down a level, and then another, the scarce light dwindling even more, the walls damp and narrow. This was not forever. You and Lucien would walk out of here.

Your father would not.

He was being kept in one of the cells of the lower levels; a dark, dingy box with a hard bed and a scratchy blanket. On it sat your father.

And he looked…pathetic.

Small. Insignificant. Self-pitying. He didn’t notice your approach, at first, curled in on himself as he perched on the edge of that bed. And when he finally looked up, he had the nerve to look relieved to see you.

As though you were here to spare him. To get him out.

“You have a visitor.” The guard droned, unlocking the door. “I’d make the most of it, if I were you.”

Indeed. This was the only time you were stepping into this soulless place.

With a nod to you, the guard stationed himself just beside the door. You were half-tempted to bolt. And you knew Lucien would bolt with you if you did.

But you gripped hold of his hand and stepped in.

“You came.” Your father said on an exhaled breath. “It’s good to see you.”

You pressed yourself back against the furthest wall; as far from him as you could possibly get in the confined space. Lucien remained at your side. “I came for answers.” You announced.

“I know you’ve probably heard a lot of things—”

“I’m going to say this only once, father,” your voice, thankfully, held. It sounded far stronger than you felt. “If you lie to me even once in this conversation…if you try to pass the blame or make yourself out to be the victim…I will tell the new High Lord that he has free reign to dole out whatever punishment he sees fit. It will not be pretty. It will not be merciful. One word from me, and you could end up exactly as Beron Vanserra did.”

Your father stared at you, having the good sense to look worried. It seemed almost as though he was seeing you for the first time; seeing what you had become, with absolutely no help from him. You were strong. You were moral. You were the opposite of what he was.

But perhaps the hardest thing was that he hadn’t always been this way.

Or maybe he had, and he’d hidden it well. You didn’t know which would be worse.

“Are we clear?” You pushed quietly. “No lies. Only truthful answers.”

Your father dipped his chin. “We’re clear.”

Folding your arms over your chest, you stared him down. You tried to keep the images at bay that so badly wanted to overtake; of you, as a girl, free and worriless, fond of a father who doted on her. Of an adolescent female who was coming into her own, discovering who she was, who she wanted to be, and was supported unconditionally, even when she went against the grain and did the opposite of what was socially acceptable. Of someone who had once thought that no matter what might happen, no matter where she ended up, she would always have her father’s love—

“You sold me to Beron Vanserra.” The words, icy and taut, fell from your mouth.

“No—”

“You sold me to him — sent me straight into his pit — knowing exactly what he was capable of. What the two of you were cooking up together.”

Your father’s mouth tightened. “He swore that no harm would come to you. He gave me his word. Sending you to marry Dion was about ensuring your safety. About getting you away from what we were were doing—”

“It was about,” you snapped, cutting him off, “ensuring that I didn’t discover your dirty little secret and foil your plans. I read the letters you sent to Beron. You were just worried that I would get in the way.”

And gods, that fact hurt far more than you liked to admit. Your father slunk back a little, knowing damn well you saw right through him.

“People died,” you hissed. “Two females, with families who are now grieving them. A male who toiled day and night in that poor little hamlet, only for Beron to raze it to the ground and take his life. Three people are dead, thanks to the faebane that you sold him.”

“I swear to you, I never knew what he intended to do with the faebane. I was just trying to stop our family going under, losing our reputation.” He stared at you. “You have to believe me.”

You scoffed. The thought of ever believing another word he said was laughable. Lucien was silent at your side, allowing you to speak, to do what you needed to do, but just the warm press of his arm against yours was enough. A comfort.

“You must not know me at all, father,” you gritted your teeth, “because if you did, you would know that I would rather be poor, and destitute, and hungry, than have all the money in the world to abuse people with.”

He stared back at you, realisation slowly passing his face…that you meant it. That you were not like him. That social standing had never mattered. For you, it had been about family, about love. Always.

And you’d found those very things someplace else. Found them stronger, realer.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” your father’s voice was low, pathetic, “other than that I’m sorry.”

“Do you think sorry is going to cut it?”

The words came from Lucien, not you. You looked to your mate to find him staring at your father, his face a sheet of pure wrath and hatred. His teeth were gritted; a sure sign he was reining himself in, for your benefit only.

“Of course not—”

“Do you think,” Lucien seethed, “that you can apologise away the act of handing your daughter over to a male who has a reputation for his disregard, his hatred, for females? Do you think you can excuse it with pathetic stories about wanting to keep the family reputation intact? When everybody sees right through you — sees that it was about money, and nothing more?”

Your heart swelled in your chest at the mere tone of his voice, let alone his words. He was as passionate about this as you were, as cuttingly angry. You swept your thumb over the back of his palm in silent thanks.

“I do not claim to be perfect.” Your father levelled. “But you will understand, one day, when you have children of your own—”

“When I have children of my own,” Lucien snapped, “a daughter of my own. I will think back to you. I will think about how pathetic, how cowardly you are, and I will hold her tighter than you ever held Y/N, and protect her from so much as a threat of harm. Just as you failed to do. My daughter will never have to look me in the face and ask why money and reputation was more important to me than she ever was.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy and steeled and true. You thought you might bowl over from the impact of them. The impassioned tone of his voice.

Gods, you loved this male. You’d known you were lucky to have him, but—

It hit you only then — the simple luxury of finding a male to love you, who was the complete opposite of the one that had raised you.

“I decided,” you spoke, staring your father in the eye, “that I would come here today, and look at you, and know whether or not I would ever be able to forgive you. I know, now, that I won’t. Ever. The things you’ve done—”

“It’s not like you haven’t benefited from my plan,” your father cut in. He glanced at Lucien. “I sent you to the Vanserra Estate — and you found your mate there. Congratulations.”

You stilled.

For a moment, you were lost for words. At the sheer arrogance of his tone, the suggestion that you should be grateful in some way. Lucien growled quietly at your side.

And then you let the words wash over you. You straightened your shoulders. “There is no point to me being here. Talking to you.” You said. “Just tell me one thing. Did mother know what you were doing?”

Your father silently stared at you. He didn’t need to breathe a word for the truth to sink in. Yes, she had known. Yes, she had been just as willing a participant as he was.

That was all you needed, to fully close the door on the life you’d once had.

They may have raised you, yes. But they had been just as willing to endanger you.

And when this cell door closed behind you, and you walked out of the harrowing depths of the Autumn Court prison, it would be a symbolic thing; a gesture of walking away from the family you’d once known, and towards the one you wanted to know.

“Enjoy yourself, rotting down here.” Was the last thing you offered. You stepped towards the door, pulling Lucien with you, and paused to glance over your shoulder. “I hope you get what’s coming to you. Just like Beron did.”

And then you strolled out of there, desperate for fresh air.

And you didn’t feel one kernel of regret over your words.

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Lucien winnowed the both of you to the trees limning the Roselands Estate. The place had been a hub of activity in the days that had passed since Beron had been taken down, and though the residence was still considerably sized, there was an intimate, familial feeling to being under the same roof as the people you’d faced such horrors with. There was safety in going to bed with Lucien at night, and knowing that you need only traverse the hallways to reach Dion and Willow, or Eris and Linden, or Catrin. Even Tamlin had stuck around. You thought you might miss it, once the huge manor was rebuilt.

You stepped towards the path that wended through rose bushes, right up to the front door — but Lucien tugged you to a stop. Spun you around to face him.

“What is it?” You stared up at him, trying to read what was in his eyes.

“I’m just…in awe of you.” He studied your face. “So proud.”

Your throat bobbed. “Those words you said—”

“I’m sorry. I know that it was about you going in there to face your father, but my anger got the better of me. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut—”

You pushed up onto the tips of your toes, swallowing his words as you slanted your lips over his. He would never, ever need to apologise for supporting you. For being at your side.

His breath seemed to hitch in his throat — a common reaction, you’d found, that he had when you kissed him. You smiled against his lips, tucking his braid behind his ear.

“I love you.” You said. “And when we have some privacy, I’m going to show you exactly how it made me feel when you said what you said.”

His eyes flashed, heating like dark, melted chocolate. But it was with utter tenderness that he pulled your hand from where it still lingered in the strands of his hair and raised it to his lips, kissing your palm.

“My fireling.” He murmured. “You are—”

“Are you two going to stand out there gazing at each other all day?” A deep, accented voice barked from the front door. “We have a visitor.”

You glanced over to find Linden leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his lips. You scowled at him as you tugged Lucien with you. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you making those goo-goo eyes at each other.” Your friend turned on his feet, leading you into the house. “Come. We’re about to eat.”

You met Lucien’s eyes as the two of you trailed after him. A visitor; it had unexpected anticipation roiling inside you. You supposed you’d spent the last five days of recovery in somewhat of a bubble — one of safety. Going to visit your father at the prison had drained your social energy reserves for one day. But there was, indeed, a vaguely familiar scent snaking through the halls. One that reminded you of frosty nights and cedarwood—

Linden strolled into the dining room, and you stopped at the threshold, a smile pulling at your lips.

Azriel shadowsinger, spymaster of the Night Court, in all his winged, night-veiled glory, glanced up upon your arrival and took in the sight of you and Lucien — your joined hands.

“Good to see you again, lady.” He greeted you, and then looked markedly at Lucien. “I see you finally made your move.”

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“It was so kind of you — to offer your aid.”

Across the table, the shadowsinger met Catrin’s warm, kind eyes. He dipped his chin at her gratitude. “I come with well wishes from the Night Court, lady.”

“You’re the first to offer any sort of help.” Eris took a long draw of his wine. He looked…tired. Better, undoubtedly, but every day since Beron’s death had been full to the brim. No room to breathe. “I assure you, it’s even more appreciated, given our…terse history.”

You could have sworn, at that, there was the slightest stilling and stiffening of Azriel’s body. But his face gave away nothing. You subtly shot Lucien a glance, only for him to vaguely shake his head at you. Tell you later, the gesture promised.

“Whilst there has surely been bad blood on both sides,” Azriel offered quietly, “I come here with entirely genuine intentions. With kind regards on behalf of the Night Court. Rhysand remembers what the transition to High Lord was like, and given that your letter to me hinted that you are interested in a lot less blood being spilled…we agree that it’s wise to put aside our conflicts in the name of bettering the world.”

“Well,” Eris poured himself another glass of wine, “with my father gone, that’s one less ruthless bastard to worry about.”

A heavy silence — filled with unspoken agreement — snaked around the table. No one had broached the topic of Beron as of yet — no one had had the nerve to, nor had they wanted to ruin the bliss of just…knowing he was no longer there to terrorise any of you. But with his name hanging in the air between you, it was hard to ignore.

“What of your brothers?” Azriel asked. “Jareth and Rian, is it? What course of action do you plan to take with them? Bear in mind that how you choose to punish them for their involvement in your father’s schemes will determine how people perceive you as High Lord.”

Across from you, Catrin’s gaze lowered to the table. You knew this was the hardest part for her; they were still her sons, when all was said and done. And though she knew of what they’d done…the havoc they’d wreaked…it was still painfully hard to consider what the consequences of those actions might be.

“I haven’t entirely decided.” Eris admitted. “Perhaps you can aid me in coming to a decision, Azriel. I either lock them both up — like I have with Y/N’s father — or have them exiled, never to return. In a way, their crimes are worse than those Jesper committed. He may well have sold the faebane to my father, but Jareth and Rian set the fires that those two females perished in. Perhaps death isn’t too harsh a punishment.”

“Eris.” Catrin softly warned. Her eyes fell to his wine glass — one that you all knew had been refilled a good few times, now. “Now isn’t a good time to think about this.”

Indeed, it was one of many matters that Eris had to face. You didn’t envy him one bit. He lowered his gaze to his plate without a word; you could have sworn that beside him, Linden’s hand moved beneath the table to rest on his thigh.

You cleared your throat, sitting up. “It’s been only five days since…everything happened. This is bound to be a period of adjustment. Focus on yourself first, Eris. Jareth and Rian and my father are all detained. You can mete out justice when things are a bit more…settled.”

Eris met your gaze, pure gratitude shining in his own. Sometimes it took someone saying the words for him to realise it was okay to think them.

“Y/N is right.” Azriel nodded. “It’s not as though they can harm anyone else. Face everything else first. Show your courtiers, your people, that you can handle this. Show them a unified front.”

Eris inclined his chin. “How long can we expect you here for?”

“As long as you need.” Azriel answered. “Although, you undoubtedly have a good support system around you. I have no doubt that you’ll be just fine.”

The two males stared at each other, the fleeting moment seeming strangely…intimate. Whatever had transpired between them in the past, whatever had caused that bad blood…perhaps it truly was time for it to come to an end.

For whatever reason, Azriel’s words seem to mean something to Eris. He appeared touched, as though the sentiment coming from the spymaster’s mouth meant a lot more to him than anyone realised. His shoulders seemed to loosen slightly, and he sat up straighter.

“It’s greatly appreciated.” Eris said. “I look forward to working with you.”

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Days passed by in a blur.

Azriel had kept to his word, and his presence every day had been more of a help than Eris had initially anticipated. It meant something…to have the shadowsinger offer thoughts and opinions, advice and constructive criticism. To help the new High Lord of the Autumn Court to get stuff done.

And at the end of every one of those days, Eris was absolutely exhausted. And yet — too wired to sleep.

It had become a common occurrence for him to sit up well into the late hours, watching the moon cast shadows across the garden as his thoughts pelted him relentlessly. Sometimes ones of a self-doubting nature. Others of just…pure worry. That the worst wasn’t over, and his loved ones were still at risk. Sometimes certain thoughts had him swearing that he could smell Beron’s blood still staining the air. Sometimes he swore he could see it on his hands—

His eyes shuttered as he pulled his knees into his chest, perched on the windowsill that he’d taken a particular liking to. There was no use thinking about these things; Beron was dead and gone. Everyone was safe. Peace would be restored once more.

Just an adjustment period, he reminded himself. It’s just an adjustment period.

Eris reached for the decanter of wine that sat on the nearby writing table — and paused, his hand hovering mid-air, as a soft rap fell on the door.

He debated simply ignoring the knock. It was well past two o’clock in the morning, by now, and he was sure a more urgent matter would warrant a lounder, stronger pounding on the wood. But when the sound was repeated, he sighed softly and pushed to his feet.

He pulled the door open to find Linden stood at the other side — in all his half-naked glory. A loose pair of trousers barely clinging to his hips was the only item of clothing that covered him.

Eris tried not to stare. And failed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, searching for the answer on Linden’s face.

“You tell me.” Linden replied, his lips twitching. “I can hear you brooding from down the hall.”

“I am not brooding.”

“You’ve sighed about seventy-four times in the last five minutes.”

The redhead’s eyebrows flicked up. “You could try going to sleep. Then you wouldn’t hear my sighs.”

“I quite enjoyed your sighs that night in the forest.”

The two males stared at each other, challenge sparking between them. Neither had bothered to seek the other out past bedtime; too much was going on, too many things to think about. And Eris would be lying if he proclaimed not to have considered crossing the hall to Linden’s room when sleep evaded him, but…they didn’t really know each other. Even if it felt like they did.

Linden tapped his knuckles against the doorframe. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

For a split second, Eris merely…studied him. And then he was stepping aside, allowing Linden to trail into the room, his scent hitting him as he strolled past. Eris’s eyes shuttered. That damned scent; it took him right back to the feeling of Linden’s head bowed between his legs, his tongue working on him—

“So this is where you sleep.” Linden hummed. “Or rather — don’t sleep.”

“If I’m keeping you awake, I can have you moved to another room—”

“I don’t want to move to another room. I want to know why you don’t come to mine when you’re in need of comfort.”

Eris stared at him, wondering what the appropriate response was. Part of him wanted to argue — to defensively insist that he wasn’t in need of comfort; though that would be a lie. Or perhaps brutal honesty was the way to go; we had that thing in the forest, but I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything…

Complicated. This was complicated. With females, he’d be an expert flirt, a skilled lover, and so silver-tongued in breaking hearts that they never seemed to realise that he’d given them the brush-off until he was far, far away.

But with Linden, it was…different. He found himself turning his words over in his head, not wanting to say the wrong thing, to make a fool of himself—

“I didn’t want to assume that you were offering up your counsel. I know that you came here for Y/N, and that what happened between us that night was very heat of the moment, but I don’t…expect anything from you.”

Did that sound dismissive? Gods, he hoped not. He balled his fists at his sides, wondering if it’d be more pathetic to take the words back or just run with them.

But then Linden was stepping up to him. Studying him closely. The teasing in his eyes had been replaced by tenderness.

“I like you, Eris Vanserra,” He hummed, and his accent wrapping around his name almost brought Eris to his knees. “I came here for Y/N’s sake, yes. But I’m staying here as much for yours as I am for hers.”

Eris lowered his eyes to the floor. “You don’t have to—”

His words cut off as Linden brushed a strand of hair from his face. Leant down. Coasted his lips against his. “Shh.” He whispered. “I don’t expect anything from you, either, if there’s nothing you wish to give. But I wish to give you my comfort — which I think you need right now. If you’ll let me.”

Eris met his gaze again. He knew and understood nothing but what he wanted as he gave a nod.

“Tell me what you want.” Linden murmured. “And you can have it.”

“...could you just—hold me?”

The intense tenderness with which Linden beheld him was almost too much — something Eris was entirely unused to. But before he could buckle and burn under his gaze, Linden’s lips were at his again.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Brief. And just as Eris readied himself to lean into it, Linden pulled away, grabbing his hand. He laced their fingers together.

“Come.” The brilliant male murmured. “You need to sleep.”

And Eris couldn’t deny that. It was why he had no objections as Linden guided him over to the bed, lying himself down first, and then pulling Eris down beside him.

Eris was by no means a short male. His legs were long, slender but muscled. But Linden was far bigger, and the size difference was almost comical. Eris felt strangely small as Linden tugged him back, pressing his back to his front.

He snaked one arm under him, the other over him, and laced their fingers together. And the scrape of his calluses…the warmth…the feeling of Linden’s breath hitting the back of his neck and stirring the strands of his hair…it had Eris’s eyes growing heavy in no time.

“Sleep.” Linden whispered, brushing his thumb over the back of Eris’s palm.

Eris was out cold before he could even think of a response.

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Time was an exquisite healer — for everyone. And there was something so quietly beautiful about healing together.

It bonded you all in a way that you knew was unbreakable. You were a family, and even as small drops of normality began to seep back in, your unit remained strong.

Weeks passed of Eris becoming acclimated to being High Lord, and those initial days of fragility seemed to be a distant memory. He was stepping into the role gradually — with the help of Azriel and Tamlin — and had begun to publicly attend to duties here and there. To name himself as the High Lord of the Autumn Court. And when Azriel and Tamlin eventually announced their departure, you all knew — Eris was ready to do this on his own.

You were all still at Roselands; you and Lucien, Dion and Willow, Eris and Linden and Catrin. But the rebuilding of the manor was coming along swimmingly, and you’d each visited here and there to watch bits and pieces of what felt like a symbolic thing; not only the rebuilding of a home, but of a life, too.

The days were long and busy, all of you pitching in to establish a new era for the Autumn Court.

But today — today was about relaxing.

The sun was shining; one of the rare warm days that the Court sometimes experienced. And with it came a general feeling of positivity. It wasn’t hard for you all to agree to have the day off from official business and just…enjoy yourselves. And you’d done exactly that, spending most of the day basking in the sun, swimming in the lake, walking through the garden. It felt like a holiday; a blissful break from reality.

With the sun still shining into the evening, it was decided that you’d dine together outside amongst the fruit trees and the lingering day’s warmth. Linden — an exquisite cook — had put on a spread fit for a king, and it was over steaming, aromatic dishes and sweating pewter jugs of wine that you sunk happily into a family meal, conversation and laughter a constant presence around the table.

“So I was understandably put out by how rude he was being,” you laughed, taking a sip of your wine as you told the whole story of yours and Lucien’s journey, “and I said to him, you don’t even know me. And do you know what he said? Let’s keep it that way. My first night there. I wanted to punch him.”

You were met with a chorus of laughter, Lucien chuckling beside you and leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I’m sorry, my love.”

Rather comically, Catrin gaped at him. “That was so rude of you. I taught you better than that.”

“I know, I know.” Your mate held up his hands. “What can I say? I was drawn to Y/N from the second I glimpsed her punching a tree, and it terrified me.”

You grinned up at him, squeezing his leg beneath the table. Across from you, Dion smiled at the two of you fondly.

“You both deserve your happy ending.” He said, his hand absentmindedly playing with Willow’s hair. “We all do.”

“Speaking of which,” Eris sat forward, fixing his gaze on you, on Lucien. “I think the two of you should take a break. Go somewhere nice together. Relax, or even travel if you want to. Just…enjoy each other’s company for a few weeks. The gods know, you’ve earned it.”

You blinked at him. “There’s still so much to be done—”

“You’ve done enough.” Eris smiled. “We can manage. You haven’t had a chance to just…enjoy your bond, yet. So take a small vacation. Relax. Enjoy the beginning of the rest of your lives. If I have to make it an order, I will.”

Beside you, Lucien dipped his chin. “We appreciate it, brother, really. But — what if you need us nearby? Granted, we could winnow back, but with everything so new—”

“You could go to Dayview.” Catrin cut in — so abruptly that you all turned to look at her. She studied you fondly. “Dayview Cottage. It’s not far from here, and it’s not like it’s being used…”

Something tugged at your heart. That place was personal to her, had sat untouched with the ghosts of her past for years — and yet she was offering it up for you and Lucien.

“…that’s so kind of you,” you said gently. “But we wouldn’t want to impose.”

You could only assume that the others knew of Dayview’s existence — but not its history. They stared between you and Catrin curiously.

“It would mean a lot to me, actually.” She said, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “You know…for it to be used again. And for such a wonderful thing.”

Lucien leaned down, kissing your head. You could see the mark of respect in his and his brothers’ eyes; that they knew there was more to the story, but it was their mother’s to tell, if she ever wanted to.

“We’d love to go there.” Lucien told her, his voice gentle. “Thank you.”

You nodded in agreement, not trusting your voice to hold if you spoke your gratitude. Thankfully, Eris was speaking before you had to.

“That’s settled, then. Y/N and Lucien are taking a break away from here,” he said, and added with a wink, “and that’s an order — as your High Lord.”

Just like that, the heavy, emotionally-charged moment was swept away with more laughter. Linden rolled his eyes fondly at Eris. “You and your orders.”

Eris smirked back at him. “Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

The two of them had been pretty open, these past weeks, with whatever this thing was that existed between them. Nobody spoke of it. It was just…part of what you all were, now. Perhaps another happy ending.

And they were also expertly good at getting into flirtatious, verbal sparring matches that nobody, for the life of them, could break up. They seemed to be on the cusp of another one of those, challenge sparking in Linden’s eyes — but it was as he leaned closer to Eris that a flash of light in your periphery stopped you all in your tracks.

Bright, white light, so vibrant it had you squinting and shielding your eyes with your hands. Like a starburst, a beacon of brilliant daylight, like the sun itself had stepped into the garden—

And in its wake, as the light eddied away…a figure.

You should have known who he was from the first glance.

If the fashion of loose, white fabric hanging from his muscled body wasn’t indication enough, or the flowing locks of hair and dark skin and a spiked crown of what looked to be sun rays, then Catrin’s face surely should have told you.

She had gone white as a sheet. Her lips parted, her eyes wide. Her wine-red hair against her pale skin looked like blood on snow. For a moment, it didn’t look like she was breathing.

Every single one of you seemed to be staring between the two of them as they gazed at each other. And after what felt like an eternity of terse, weighty silence, Eris pushed out of his chair, clearing his throat.

“Helion Spell-Cleaver.” He acknowledged, bowing his head. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

And Helion didn’t look away — not once — from Catrin, as he croaked out, “I should have come a long time ago.”

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The tension did die down…a little.

Enough for Helion to join you all at the table and accept a glass of wine. But what had felt like a warm gathering before was now somewhat…crowded. Like you were imposing on something you should have no part in.

“I appreciate your visit.” Eris told him; even if you all knew — Eris himself included — that he wasn’t here for him. He was being…diplomatic. Holding the conversation while Catrin gathered her thoughts. “You’re welcome here, of course. Please…help yourself to food.”

Helion cleared his throat, bowing his head in thanks. “I went to the manor first. I knew it had burned down, of course, but…I was informed I could find you here.”

Could find you here. His eyes had been on Catrin as he’d said that. Her cheeks flushed.

“Another estate of ours.” Eris explained with a nod. “It’s where we’ve been staying while the manor is being rebuilt.”

You were barely aware of Helion’s response, as you stared and stared. Like puzzle pieces suddenly slotting into place, it became clear to you in an instant.

A male she had loved.

A male who had gifted her a cottage, for them to meet in. Dayview Cottage. Undoubtedly from the High Lord of Day.

Helion — the Helion Spell-Cleaver — was the true love from her tale. Had seemingly come back for her.

And perhaps more pressing…

You studied the High Lord of the Day Court as he answered Eris’s questions, one eye always seeming to be on Catrin. Studied the straight nose, the cut of his jaw. How familiar those features were. Ones you stared at every day.

In Lucien’s face.

Lucien, whose golden skin had always been a few shades darker than that of his brothers’. Lucien, who had never resembled Beron at all — or even Catrin, really, aside from the hair.

Lucien, your mate…who you were sure was the son of Helion Spell-Cleaver.

You swallowed, pushing the thoughts from your brain. Whatever the truth was…it was Catrin’s to tell. You couldn’t involve yourself.

Right now, she needed to speak to Helion. Alone.

Clearing your throat loudly, you sat up. “How about we play some games?” Your eyes bounced around Dion and Willow, Linden and Eris. Very pointedly.

Eris stared back at you. And then seemed to realise. What the extent of the males’ knowledge was of their mother’s history, you had no clue. But the three of them were, at least, aware enough to realise that Catrin had some things to face.

“We’ll be inside, should you want to join us.” You followed them in pushing to your feet, sending the High Lord of Day a warm smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Helion dipped his chin — to you, and to the others. “And you.”

Lucien was just…staring. At his mother, at Helion, an unreadable expression on his face. You wrapped a warm hand around his and squeezed. The truth would one day all rise to the surface, whatever it may be, but…not now. You’d all faced enough upheaval for now.

“Come,” you said softly, and Lucien finally followed. Not without one last look over his shoulder at the ancient love that was now evident at that table, filling the garden with its presence. You wondered what he saw as he looked at them.

“I’ve…never seen her look like that before.” He seemed to answer your thoughts, his thumb brushing the back of your palm.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like she feels safe.”

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You fell asleep, that night, to the sounds of Catrin’s and Helion’s voices in the garden, mingling well into the late hours.

And you thought that perhaps the world was truly healing — one good heart at a time.

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There was no other feeling like you and your mate being entirely in a world of your own.

The magic that encased Dayview Cottage made it blissfully private, and within just a day of being there, you knew you could happily stay there forever.

It was far smaller and more intimate than Roselands; more akin to the gamekeeper’s cottage. No one besides you and Lucien for miles and miles. If you needed anything, you need only speak it aloud, and the cottage’s magic would summon it.

Bad memories were distant. Unimportant.

The first day was about rest. It seemed that exhaustion, physical and mental, had finally caught up to the both of you; unsurprising, really, given that the recent months of your lives had been nothing but constant chaos and drama. You and Lucien had arrived at the cottage, and there’d been nothing more luxurious than collapsing into the huge, fresh-smelling bed — the afternoon sun shining outside — and just…falling asleep together.

You awoke hours later to Lucien’s warm, attentive gaze on you, his fingers indolently playing with the strands of your hair. You’d merely leaned up to brush your lips against his cheek.

“This is where they came together, isn’t it?” He’d said, his voice rough with sleep. You knew who he was talking about. “Dayview Cottage.”

You’d reached out, smoothing the lines of deep thought from his face. His eyes had shuttered at your touch. “It is.”

It was a while before he spoke again. Before he’d finished luxuriating in the gentle coasting of your fingertips against his skin. But when he did, it was a quiet sentiment that you echoed in your heart and soul.

“I hope they come here again.”

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The second day, with your energy restored a little, was about exploring.

You and Lucien spent the entire morning discovering the beauty of the nature that stretched around you, wandering through the forest until you came to a lake, the shore of which you sat and ate at together, a picnic of fruits and cheeses and juice. You swam naked together, bathed in the sun together, talked for hours and hours and caught up on all the things you simply hadn’t gotten to know about each other, given how volatile your journey had been up until now.

It was bliss. And it almost brought a tear to your eye to think that the rest of your life could be — would be — like this, but—

But Lucien didn’t touch you, beyond the handholding, the absentminded caresses, the lazy kisses. Even as clear hunger and heat had flashed in his eyes as he’d watched you towel your naked body off — and you’d watched the way it very clearly affected him — he’d pulled you down beside him and simply tucked you into his side. And later that night, your walking and swimming and the day’s warmth had coaxed you to sleep before you could question it.

And it wasn’t that you hadn’t found pleasure in each other in the recent weeks, since everything had happened. There had been a few nights where you’d managed to stay awake long enough to come together and find your releases. But the days were so packed-full with helping Eris become acclimated to his new role, with going back and forth with correspondence and helping the new manor be built, that you rarely had the energy to do much more than hold hands as you fell asleep.

It was on that third morning, over breakfast, that you finally roused the courage.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, watching as Lucien took a seat opposite you.

He paused curiously. “Anything, my love.”

“…is there a reason we haven’t…I mean…do you not want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Have sex.” Your cheeks flushed; not out of any embarrassment about the subject, but…it just seemed ludicrous, given all that you’d done with each other’s bodies before.

But again, Lucien paused — and blinked at you. Pure surprise crossed his face, as though the idea hadn’t even dawned on him. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to?”

You shrugged slowly, wishing you could take the words back. Realising, now, how silly they seemed. “I don’t know…we’ve been here a few days, now, and there have been moments where we’ve come close, but just…haven’t.”

“I want to bury myself inside you so badly that I keep feeling like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”

It was your turn to pause, then. “…Oh.”

Lucien’s eyes were fierce as they met yours. Heated. “I keep thinking about tasting you, and touching you, and fucking you hard enough to turn this place to rubble. So much that it’s sometimes hard to concentrate on anything else.”

Your mouth turned dry, wetness pooling between your legs. The mere filth of his words was enough to make you consider clearing this table with a swipe of your arm and crawling over to him.

You swallowed hard. “Then why haven’t you?”

And that heated, sinful darkness in his gaze immediately lightened and softened. He stared at you, offering his hand across the table. “I want it to be on your terms, Y/N. After everything…my father attacking you…I want you to decide when and where and how we do it. I’ll follow your lead.”

You quite possibly could have melted in your seat. So tender, this male — caring and loving. Your mate. Beron’s attack may not have gone beyond bruising and a damn deep head wound, but he’d still had his hands all over you. Had still violated you.

Lucien just wanted to make sure you were ready to put that behind you, before you allowed yourself to be touched again.

Gods, you loved him.

And gods, you were ready.

“You’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, you know.” You said. “My mate.”

His throat bobbed. “As are you.” His hand squeezed yours. “…How much do you know…about how the mating bond works?”

You chewed, tilting your head. “Not much,” you admitted. “My parents weren’t mated. I’ve heard and read different things. I know of the tradition where the female offers the male food.”

Something you hadn’t done yet — and something you absolutely planned to do. It hadn’t mattered to either of you that you technically had not officially accepted the bond yet. You were mates, in love, and you’d planned to do so when the time was right. When it was just the two of you.

Lucien nodded. “The offering of food is symbolic of an official acceptance of the bond. And when it’s accepted, it triggers a kind of…frenzy, I suppose.”

Your lips twitched. “As in…for a while, we’re not going to be able to think about much else than fucking each other senseless.”

He chuckled deeply. “Precisely.” His smile sobered a bit. “But I don’t expect it of you, you know. If you’re not ready for any of the official stuff, it makes no difference to me. We have the rest of our lives to make it official. And to fuck each other senseless.”

You did — an entire lifetime for it. But you were impatient, and hungry for your mate. You didn’t want to wait.

And you knew that probably showed in your eyes as you met his gaze.

You lifted just slightly out of your seat. Just enough to grasp the table and lean across it, your lips brushing against Lucien’s. He tried to capture you in a kiss, but you grinned at him, pinning a hand over his mouth.

“I’m going to cook for you tonight.” You said.

The promise behind the words was enough to make him shudder.

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Linden had taught you to cook years ago.

It was something you greatly enjoyed, but also something you unfortunately didn’t get to do often. Having always been surrounded by servants and staff and cooks, food was simply served to you. Something you rarely got to put much thought or care into.

But Linden — Linden had left his home and his family at such a young age that he’d had no choice but to become self-sufficient. And when you’d first taken a bite of a meal he’d cooked for you, you’d wolfed it down — and asked him to teach you how to do it.

You were thankful for that teaching, now, as delicious aromas filled the cottage.

You’d barred Lucien from the kitchen, and it was through the window, whilst you cooked, that you watched him relaxing in the evening sunlight, lazily strumming his lute as the golden rays made his hair glint. You couldn’t stop your eyes snagging on his fingers, the expert way that they moved—

You shook your thoughts off. It was hard to concentrate — knowing how tonight would end.

This was important. This was symbolic. You were Lucien’s, and he was yours — forever.

You put everything into that meal. Every emotion that had built up from the moment you’d stumbled upon Lucien Vanserra reading poems and sonnets beneath a tree. Every subtle glance and touch, every late-night thought. Every moment you’d wondered what he was doing, where he was — and then wondered why you cared so much.

That first kiss at the masquerade ball. That first joining of your bodies in the gamekeeper’s cottage. When he’d gone after you on the hunt and found you a crying, shuddering mess, and he’d stayed with you in that cave. That night of the courtier’s meeting, when he’d become so blinded by jealousy that he’d taken you, mind and body and soul, until you’d forgotten that Azriel even existed. When he’d sat beside you in the forest and allowed you to cry, and had kissed your head — a rare tender moment, amongst all the passion. All those times he’d played with your braid, letting it fall between his fingers. When he’d finished a companionship with Tansy that had gone on for years, because he couldn’t bear to think of anyone but you. When he’d told you he was in love with you. When he’d decided to fight for you — for both of you.

Months and months and months of love and lust and heartache and longing and passion. You poured every bit of it into that meal. Your journey together.

Your mate. Your great, brilliant, kind mate. There would never be anybody but him.

You plated up the food, brushed yourself down, and took a deep breath. Lucien looked up, his fingers stilling on the lute as you opened the door.

“It’s ready,” you said. And held out a hand.

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Your eyes tracked it all. Every. Last. Bite.

And even though the tradition was an ancient one, merely symbolic, you could have sworn that the air around the two of you changed. Like the bond was strengthening. Truly fusing your souls together, once and for all.

Lucien swallowed his last mouthful, setting his cutlery down. His eyes lifted to yours.

You could only focus on his mouth. That full, sensuous mouth. You wanted to kiss it, to feel it on your skin—

“How was it.” Your question was blunt, gravelly, a distant thought. His opinion of your food didn’t really matter to you right now; what mattered was him. All of him.

“Delicious.” He reached for his wine, and the mere movement had your chest heaving, your eyes watching his fingers wrap around the glass. He lifted it to his lips, draining the liquid. A few drops lingered on his mouth, painting it red.

You were going to fucking devour him.

“If you look at me like that,” he rasped, swallowing, “this will be over before it’s really begun.”

You met his gaze. Shuddered at the intensity there. “You are my mate.”

“Yes.”

“I am yours.”

“Always.”

Your legs shook as you rose from your seat. “Forever.”

That single word was what did it. What absolutely decimated the frail cord of restraint that was keeping Lucien controlled, civilised.

An animalistic growl ripped from deep within his chest, and he was out of his chair and in front of you in seconds.

You barely had a chance to draw breath as he hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. And he was holding you, his lips slanting over yours in a hard, desperate kiss.

You kissed him back feverishly, your arms snaking around his neck, your fingers twining within his hair. You could kiss him forever. Lose yourself in his lips, his taste—

“Mine.” The word slipped between your lips without any guidance from you. A rough, carnal claiming. You nipped Lucien’s lip, swallowing his grunt. “You’re mine.”

“Always.” He promised again, pulling you tighter against him. “I’m all yours.”

It was a wonder you didn’t climax from the declaration itself — the way it wracked through your body like a physical touch. You shuddered, rolling your hips against him, feeling his hard cock push up against the clothed centre of you. You felt his groan as it vibrated from his body, into yours. And then he was kissing you again, stumbling back with you towards the bedroom.

You couldn’t touch enough of him at once. The hard press of his muscles against your body was divine, a song to the softness of your own body, and when he parted from you to place you on the bed, a whine escaped you at the loss of contact.

But that noise immediately faded into breathlessness as Lucien’s hungry gaze landed on you. And the intent you found waiting in his eyes…the sheer focus—

He unbuttoned his white shirt torturously slowly, first at the cuffs and then at the front. You couldn’t help staring at his fingers, thinking back to the times they’d touched you before, what they’d felt like. How you wanted them now, all over you.

But he was methodical. Knew exactly what he intended to do, and in what order. And when that billowing shirt was tossed to the floor, you waited for his breeches to come off, too. But he didn’t touch them. He instead stepped closer to the bed.

Closer.

His knee nudged your legs apart, and you allowed them to fall open, the sundress you’d worn now feeling like nothing but an inconvenience. Your little, lacy underthings were soaked already; Lucien inhaled deeply, roughly, his eyes like dark, swimming chocolate.

“I hardly know where to begin,” he breathed, his tongue swiping over his lips. “I could spend hours just looking at you. My mate.”

“I don’t want you to look at me.” Your chest rose and fell deeply. “I want you to ravish me.”

A low growl was his answer, and he seemed utterly powerless to his needs as he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. His heavy breaths blew against your clothed cunt, and you hissed at the sensation.

“Lift your hips for me,” Lucien murmured, his attention fiercely on that sweet spot between your thighs that he wanted access to.

You did just that, sucking in a gasp as his calloused hands skated up your legs, dipping beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers found the waistband of that frail, pathetic undergarment that barely concealed you, and he tugged it down, pressing kisses to your legs in its wake.

“I must think about tasting you,” your mate hummed, “every single hour of the day.”

You were trembling already, reaching for any sliver of bravado you could hold onto. “A slight exaggeration, perhaps.”

“Oh? Do you think so?”

“I do—”

Your words turned into a yelp as Lucien pushed your dress up and lowered his face to your damp heat. He inhaled slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Not an exaggeration at all, I assure you.”

And then his mouth was on you, and you were incapable of a response beyond the moan that was dragged from deep within you.

Amongst all the chaos and havoc of recent weeks, you’d almost forgotten how generous Lucien was with his mouth and teeth and tongue. He took his time exploring you, lapping you up like your wetness was in dwindling supply. And the noises of utter filth that left him…you sunk your fingers into his hair, your head falling back.

“My beautiful fireling.” Lucien growled, his teeth grazing your clit. “I’ll never get used to this. To wanting you constantly.”

“Fuck, I want you too.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, your other hand clasping your breast. “Always.”

“Always is ours, my love.”

The way that he feasted on you…you could bask in the feeling forever. The strokes of his tongue and grazing of his teeth and the way he had you trembling before he slid a finger into you. He pumped that finger a few times, lapping at your clit with his tongue. And when a second finger joined the first, you were done for.

Your back arched off the bed as a stunning release stormed you. Over the ringing in your head, you could just make out Lucien’s words of encouragement, the way he continued to worship you, even as you came down, legs trembling. Words simply failed you, your arm draping over your face as you attempted to catch your breath, But as Lucien kissed your inner thighs and climbed onto the bed, caging your body in, you could already feel yourself ready again.

“I want you inside me,” you breathed, reaching for him and pulling him into a searing kiss. Your hand moved down his body, finding the tight, hard arousal that poked through his breeches. You growled in frustration at the intricate laces and buttons, “take these off.”

Lucien chuckled, his fingers going straight to those laces. “So impatient.”

“Such a delicious tease.”

“I think you’ll find…” he paused, long enough to move his hand up to your face. His fingers brushed the cut of your jaw before landing on your mouth, and with a little pressure, he was parting your lips. Pushing in those two fingers, still coated with your sex. “I think you’ll find that you’re the delicious one.”

Your eyes met his as you sucked your taste from his fingers, your tongue flicking the pads of them. And the way he watched you…the darkening of his eyes was so sinful that you knew — there would be no more teasing.

He didn’t even need to look as that one free hand loosened the rest of his buttons and laces. And then the front flap of his breeches was parting, revealing more skin that dipped down beneath the fabric, the smattering of hair in a perfect trail.

Too much…the craving him was almost too much. Your eyes followed that trail of hair, and it was with utterly ravenous desperation that you reached out to shimmy his breeches the rest of the way down.

At the sight of his cock springing free, you moaned.

He was hard. So ready for you, it looked like it could teeter on the edge of pain. Lucien swallowed, finally removing his fingers from your mouth as you reached out and brushed your fingertips against the velvety skin of his cock.

He hissed between his teeth at the contact, his hips jerking. Your lips twitched into a smile as you wrapped your hand around his length and pumped him. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Fuck—stop.” He gasped, staying your hand by grasping your wrist in his own. “I need to be inside you. We—we fall off the edge together.”

A promise that sounded so good, you wanted to devour it. You stopped your movements, pausing to mop a bead of moisture from the head with your thumb. Which you then lifted to your mouth and sucked.

Lucien swore, so deep it was almost indiscernible. And then he was positioning himself between your legs. Pulling your dress the rest of the way off until the two of you were completely bare with each other.

The head of his cock brushed your entrance, drawing a gasp from you. But he was pausing over you. Staring down at you.

Your chest heaved as you asked, breathlessly, “what is it?”

Both of Lucien’s hands slid to yours, your fingers immediately slotting together. He pinned your arms above your head, staring down at you. “I’m just happy.” He murmured earnestly, eyes tracing every inch of your face. “We get to do this for the rest of our lives. We get to have each other. Forever. I didn’t…I didn’t think I’d ever have something like this.”

The words were so raw that you felt them right to your very soul. You pushed up, pressing your lips, your forehead, to his. “We deserve this happiness, Lucien.”

“Yes.” He breathed. The head of his cock pushed into you just slightly.

“We deserve,” you continued, biting your lip at the sensation, “to live a long, happy life — together. You and me.”

Those words seemed to utterly destroy whatever was holding him back. He groaned, sliding further into you, your slick walls welcoming the friction.

“You and me.” He echoed. And then he thrust.

Your eyes were fully locked on one another’s as he pushed in to the hilt, a gasped breath leaving both of you. And then he withdrew. Pushed in again. Leaned down to kiss you.

Those first few thrusts were slow, languid, a battle of breaths and kissing and your bodies moving together. Every bit of you touched every bit of him in any way you could, and just the feeling of having him there…pressed against you. Real. Safe. Happy—

You didn’t realise tears had escaped you until you were choking out a moan that mingled with a sob. Lucien paused to pull back and read your face, his lips parted—

“Don’t stop.” You gasped, not shielding your emotions one bit. “Don’t stop.”

“I love you.” He leaned down, kissed one tear away. Another. “My fireling. My mate.”

You were sure your body shuddered at the words — or maybe it was his. Or both of you. All thoughts became lost in the sensation of your bodies and souls being joined, of Lucien fucking you and loving you. Worshipping you. He was yours and you were his.

And when the pace quickened, became more frenzied…when you were clawing at each other’s skin and kissing with teeth and tongue and breathing the most raw words of sheer pleasure onto each other’s mouths, it dawned on you only then — that the worst was over.

The best was yet to come.

It was as though you’d sent that thought straight to Lucien’s mind, coursing through his body, as you felt him shudder against your hands. He threw his head back, his hair a brilliant flash of colour that reminded you of daylight. That there would be many days ahead of you.

And when you dragged your nails down his back, grabbing at the skin of his ass and encouraging his hard thrusts into you, hitting a spot so deep inside you…white hot pleasure splintered through you.

You cried out as release hit you at full-force. Lucien’s hips faltered, his thrusts stuttering as you clenched around him.

“Come.” You breathed, trembling. “Come for me.”

He did just that.

There weren’t any words to describe the roar that broke through him as he stilled and spilled every drop of himself inside you. It was like no other sound you’d heard from him before. One not only of pleasure, but of raw, carnal love and passion.

You moaned through every jerk and twitch of his cock inside you, and Lucien swallowed every noise with kisses and whispered I love yous, over and over.

I love you.

My fireling, my mate, I love you.

You would never tire of hearing it.

Nor of feeling it.

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lucien tag list: @brekkershadowsinger @sillycrownlady @ruler-of-hades @lectoradefics @lucyysthings @littlemoonash @janzquu @carmelalikestoread @cathyac @tasha2627 @elkessecretplace @inkyvelvet @acourtofthought @zazite95 @antisocialcookie16 @sehalpha25 @fuckthatfeeling @adamgetawaydriver @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @lostpirateinwonderland @scrunklybunny @owllover123 @vangoghsbaby @goodbyemilkyway @babyimagangsta2 @cynicalpotato95 @draguta @pee-stachio @rem-ie @mateobneun-rattattui

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rose-pearls · 1 year

Text

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend - Final Part

Previous Part

Everything is dark, memories appearing before disappearing and you can only float between them.

“It’s done. Snow is going to be executed. We won.”, you hear someone whisper, the voice resonating in the dark.

“We won and yet it feels like we lost, because you aren’t there.”, the voice sounds pained, and you can’t help but want to reassure the person talking.

“Coin is holding a meeting with all the victors, she doesn’t want to wait for you to wake up no matter what we tell her.”, there is a long silence after that before a loud shuddering sigh can be heard.

“I don’t – I don’t know if I can do this, starting everything new when you aren’t by my side. I thought we needed a break, but it was the dumbest thing I could have told you.”, the voice breaks slightly, and you feel pained at the words.

“I don’t think you ever understood the effect you had on me; you make me a better man. My heart aches for you when you aren’t there and I just wanted to protect you from everything, but I couldn’t.”, a second voice says the person’s name and you hear some rustling before the voice comes again.

“Please come back to me.”, it’s whispered so softly you aren’t sure you have heard it but just as you try to figure out what you heard the voice leaves, and you are back in the dark.

“She wants to do a Hunger Games with the children of the Capitol. Says it’s to do a final game but I don’t believe her. I understand what you meant when you said you didn’t trust her.”, it’s a different voice this time but still a male one.

“Snow’s execution is today, I wish you could be there to see it.”, the voice says softly, and you try to think of who Snow is, when memories flash before your eyes.

“I have to go, apparently it takes three hours to get ready for an execution. Or so Effie says. Don’t worry I’ll be back to see how you are doing after. We are both stuck here until the doctor tells us we can go, or in your case wake up.”, the voice seems hesitant before the voice from yesterday appears.

“Peeta, they are asking for you.”, the two whisper and you try to listen but ultimately fail as one of them leaves.

“I guess Peeta gave you the update. I voted no, of course.”, the voice whispers.

“I should get ready, but I wanted to talk to you first. The doctor said it would help to tell a story, that you can maybe hear it. Here goes nothing.”, the voice seems hesitant but after a moment he starts talking.

“During your first year as a mentor, you were scared out of your mind. You were the new Capitol’s favorite and was paraded around, everyone thought you had it together, even me. One day I went to the training center and there you were, sitting in front of some sort of punching bag. At first I thought you were training, and you were just exhausted but then your shoulders were shaking. The first thing I did was come to you and take you into my arms, you didn’t even flinch when I took you into my arms, you just wrapped your arms around me like you had done it a million times before.”, the voice wavers for a moment and you try to listen more, afraid of missing something.

“We had already talked during your tour but that night we stayed there all night long talking about whatever came to mind. Effie came to get you into the early hours of the morning, completely hysteric. You left with a soft smile and told me that you had enjoyed the time together and at that moment I never felt safer. Everyone tells you about butterflies in the stomach but when I was with you it was like, I had known you my whole life, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly. I fell in love with you at that moment and never stopped.,” you can’t hear the voice anymore, not because he doesn’t talk anymore but because memories come back, slowly putting themselves together like a puzzle.

“Thank you.”, Finnick turns around to see you, looking at him with a small awkward smile.

“What for?”, he can’t help but ask, feeling nervous for the first time, not knowing what to do.

“For yesterday.”, you sit down next to him and Finnick smiles at you softly.

“Anytime, we help each other between victors.”, you nod slowly before looking at him shily.

“It felt good to have someone to talk to that didn’t treat me like a broken bird, so thank you for treating me like a normal human being.”, he can’t help but feel breathless at her words, her eyes full of honesty.

“Well, you aren’t a broken bird, quite the opposite I think, more of a lioness.”, she laughs in response and Finnick can’t help but smile.

“So, tell me what your favorite thing from your victory tour was?”, he asks her dramatically, hoping to change her mind and she lets out a dramatic sigh before thinking.

“I would have to say district four, it’s so beautiful and the food is incredible. The crab cakes!”, she exclaims and Finnick can’t help but laugh at her dreamy eyes at the thought of them.

“Well then you are in luck, I know how to make them.”, she looks at him with wide, hopeful eyes and Finnick smiles in answer.

“You better not be lying to me Odair!”, Finnick laughs in answer and shakes his head in answer, but she looks at him dubiously, a small smile on her lips.

“I promise I’m not! Come by the apartment tonight and we’ll make them.”, he doesn’t even think before offering her to come and he hopes that it doesn’t scare her away but after a moment a blush appears, and she nods slowly.

“It’s a plan.”, she says shily and Finnick can’t help but smile at her before Johanna tells them to join them.

The crab cakes are more difficult than she thought they would be, but Finnick takes his time to teach her how to make them.

“You know I thought it would be easier.”, she mumbles under her breath and Finnick laughs before coming behind her as she pouts.

“Here, let me help.”, she doesn’t have time to wonder what he means before she feels his large hands on hers and his back against hers. She feels his breath against her neck as he whispers how she should do it.

“And there you go, a crab cake.”, she shakes herself out of the daze she is in and looks at the crab cake in her hand, looking perfect.

“I did it! Well, we did it!”, she says, smiling brightly and turning her head around and coming face to face with Finnick.

His sea green eyes are looking into hers and she can’t stop looking into them, she can smell his cologne and he is so close that she can see all of his whimpers.

“You are so beautiful.”, he whispers under his breath, and she can’t stop the blush from appearing on her cheeks.

“Only beautiful?”, she teases him slightly, feeling breathless.

“So much more then that.”, he whispers before his eyes look down at her lips and look back up into her eyes, asking her permission. She manages to nod slowly before feeling Finnick’s soft lips against hers.

His hands leave hers to bring her closer by the waist and she lets go of the crab cake to wrap her arms against his neck and bring him closer. The kiss probably lasts a few seconds, but it feels like hours, feeling his soft touch against her skin and his heartbeat against her body.

The two of you look at each other slightly breathless as Finnick smiles at you lovingly.

“I think I put crab cake in your hair.”, you whisper shily and Finnick let’s out a laugh.

“Why don’t I go take a shower and you finish the crab cakes? Then we can continue this.”, there is a small suggestive smile, and you peck his lips softly before whispering that you will see him after his shower.

“Welcome back.”, the voice of May Everdeen tells you as you open your eyes, the memories still turning in your memory. She is smiling at you softly and you look at her with a sleepy smile.

“So, May, what did I miss?”, you ask her slowly and she lets out a wet laugh.

“A lot but I’m glad you are back with us.”, you nod in answer, and she looks at you determined.

“I do think there is something you need to do if you feel up to it?”, the somber expression that appears on her face tells you that this is nothing good, so you nod quickly.

“Anything, I just need some painkillers and I’ll be right there.”, May nods quickly before giving you the pain killers and leaving the room.

“Oh, my sweetheart!”, a loud voice yells and you turn just in time to see Effie coming in.

“Hi Effie.”, she stops for a moment, and you look at her with a small smile.

“Long time no see, huh.”, she freezes for a moment before letting out what sounds like a wet chuckle and taking you into her arms.

“Thank god you are back. I missed you.”, she tells you before bringing you into her arms and holding you tight.

“Now, we need to get you ready. So that we can shock everyone.”, she says while wiping away her tears and you nod seriously. She brings out a dark cloak and tells you to put on the rest of the outfit before applying a little bit of make-up.

May wishes you good luck and after that Effie and you leave towards the place of the execution, she fills you up on everything that has happened while walking there. A guard stops you, but Effie looks him up and down before looking at him unimpressed.

“Do you know who she is? She is with the rest of the victors.”, the man looks unsure for a moment before you smile at him awkwardly and he lets you get in.

There are people filling up the stands, people are everywhere, trying to find a place and in the distance, you see the rest of the victors except for Katniss.

“Katniss will be there in a moment, so we are just in time to get you into position.”, you look around to see Coin upstairs, she looks down just in time to see you and she seems in shock to see you. You smirk at her, hoping that seeing you gives her hell.

Effie brings you closer to the others and before you can properly arrive Johanna turns around.

“Holy shit.”, she yells, and you can’t help but laugh un response as she looks at you gob smacked.

The rest turns around to see what is happening and Finnick looks in shock for a moment before you arrive in front of him.

“Hi, Fin.”, you whisper softly, and he looks at you, blinking his eyes multiple times like he is making sure you are actually there.

“It’s really you? It’s not a dream, right?”, his voice breaks at the words and you feel your heart break, you take his hand in yours and squeeze it softly.

“It’s me, and I’m real. Back from the place I was, my mind back too.”, you tell him and Finnick takes a step back at the words in shock, but he holds onto your hand.

“Everything?”, he asks unsure, and you smile reassuringly.

“Everything. From the talk on the beach to our talk in the training room to the crab cakes.”, you tell him and Finnick lets out a sigh of relief before bringing you into a crushing hug. A sob leaves his lips, and you hold him as tight as you are able to.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I’m here know.”, he lets out a chuckle at the words before letting go of you and looking at you with wide eyes.

“It’s really you.”, he whispers before cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes.

“It’s me.”, you whisper back and Finnick lets out a soft sigh before bringing your forehead against his.

“Thank god.”, you chuckle at the words before cupping his cheek softly and looking into his sea green eyes. Finnick smiles lovingly and you return the smile before bringing him into a short kiss.

“Not that I’m not glad to see the two of you reuniting but the show is about to start.”, Johanna says, but a grin is on her lips as she looks at the two of you and you smile back at her.

Haymitch and Peeta quickly take you into a hug and promise to talk after the ceremony and you have just the time to get into place as Katniss arrives.

She looks surprised to see you, but you only nod in response. You knew that she was going to make the right choice and as she shoots Coin dead you can’t help but smirk. Peeta manages to get to her before she takes some sort of pill and Finnick pushes you to the side to avoid the group of angry people going towards Snow.

“Well, there is going to be a trial for the girl.”, Haymitch says, and everyone scoffs around the room in response.

“I don’t see why, Coin was crazy, and she definitely had it coming.”, Johanna says, and you hum in agreement.

“I think we all agree but it’s part of the new system so I’m staying here until we know what is going to happen. But the rest of you are free to go, we finally did it.”, Haymitch says it while looking at all of us, his eyes a bit misty and you can’t help but smile in response.

“Don’t get emotional on us know Haymitch.”, you can’t help but tease him and everyone chuckles, but everyone looks emotional as they look around the table.

“I’m going back to seven.”, Johanna says after a moment, and you look at her with a reassuring smile.

“If you ever tell anyone I just told you this I will kill you, but I’ll miss you idiots. You were kind off my family for the last years.”, the group chuckles at her words and her eyes turn misty and you take her hand in yours.

“Don’t worry you’re not getting rid of us so easily.”, you tell her, and she chuckles in response.

“We’ll try to get together sometimes.”, Beetee says and you all nod in response, looking at each other with smiles.

Everyone starts saying where they are going until it comes to you and you feel Finnick slightly tense up next to you, not knowing what you were going to say.

“I guess that we are going back to four?”, you turn to ask Finnick, and he looks at you surprised for a moment before a large smile appears.

“Yeah, I guess we are.”, he says, not looking away from you.

“Well, I already know when we will all see each other again, at their wedding.”, everyone starts to laugh and Haymitch scolds Johanna, but she just shrugs her shoulders while Finnick and you blush bright red.

“Mags, sweetheart slowly.”, you try to tell your two years old, but she has a mind of her own just like her father and runs towards the ocean.

“Dad!”, she yells as she sees her father setting up the picknick.

“There is my little princess.”, he says before taking her into his arms and tickling her making her laugh loudly.

“And there is the most beautiful woman in the world.”, he says with a loving smile, and you can’t help but smile in response.

“Only beautiful.”, Finnick smiles brightly at your question.

“So much more than that.”, he whispers teasingly before bringing you in a loving kiss.

“Be careful mister Odair, it’s with those types of kisses that this one came.”, you tell him teasingly as you watch your daughter happily running round in the sand.

“You don’t hear me complaining.”, he says cheekily, and you laugh softly.

“Well, you will have to wait until this one gets born.”, you say and Finnick looks at you surprised before looking down at your stomach.

“Wait – you are?”, you nod quickly and Finnick smiles brightly before taking you into his arms and spinning you around making you shriek and laugh.

“Put me down!”, Finnick laughs in answer before setting you back on the sand and smiling brightly at you.

“I’m so happy.”, he whispers against your lips before bringing you into a heated kiss.

“Dad! Mum! Look!”, the sun starts setting and your daughter quickly drags you to see it closer. And as Finnick brings you closer to him, your daughter between the two of you, you can’t help but think it worked out better then you ever thought it would.

Well this is it! Thank you for all the support and hopefully you liked the story!!

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