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rynwritesstuff · 2 months ago

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How Bad Do You Want Me? - Kylo Ren x ResistancePilot!Reader

Kylo Ren x ResistancePilot!Reader

Warnings: NSFW (PIV Sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex lol), Banter, sassy Kylo Ren, sassy Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Before Kylo Ren was Kylo Ren, he was a padawan with you. Before you were a Resistance Pilot, you were a padawan with Kylo Ren. Now, several years later, you've found yourself in the clutches of the First Order, and, of course, Kylo himself.

A/N: May the Fourth be with you! I decided to celebrate my lifelong love for this series by writing some smut lol, as one does. In case you missed it, I created a sideblog (@rainbow-gelpen) so if you wanna see some non-writing shenanigans from me, head on over there for some fun. Otherwise, enjoy the oneshot <3

The room is cold, that is the first thing you note as you come to your senses. When you open your eyes, everything begins to come together in choppy, drawn-out scenes.

The village, full and dark. The people, afraid and yelling.

Lor San Tekka, with his small smirk.

Kylo Ren, lightsaber in hand.

You startle at the image of him and jerk against the restraints on the interrogation chair. You look around the room. No Stormtroopers are in-sight, and you know immediately that this must be intentional. Stormtroopers are so small-minded, so easily manipulated . . . And, after all, Kylo Ren knows that you are a Force-user.

Yes, he knows you could have Forced your way through Stormtroopers and escaped out of the base with, most likely, very little effort. Your fists clench at the knowledge, already beginning to feel angry with him. You wonder briefly, foolishly, if generals and officers will be sent in soon to try and force the information out of you. And then, you remember who you are dealing with.

Kylo Ren will want to get it out of you himself. As, of course, a testament to the fact that he simply can. As proof that he knew you once and knows you still. If you know a person long ago – knew every part of them – that does not necessarily fade with time, does it? Perhaps bits and pieces go, but not whole parts. Kylo Ren is still Ben Solo. Ben Solo is still Kylo Ren.

You stare at the door, willing it to open, daring it to open. You can feel his energy. It is getting closer. He’s so angry, so sad. You can sense it. Gods, you feel sick knowing just how infected he is. You wonder now, just as you have wondered everyday since he burned down the Temple you once shared, if there was ever anything to be done for him, and if you could have been the one to save him from himself.

You shake your head. He didn’t want saving, he wanted power, and power is what he received. If it meant losing you, he didn’t care, did he?

. . . Did he?

Footsteps come pounding towards you. You still recognize the cadence even after all this time, after all these changes. You know who it is, and you set your eyes on the door again. The durasteel door slides open with a soft hiss, and there he is. Your jaw clenches, standing tall as the door slams down shut again. Kylo stands there for a moment.

“It is really you,” he says. You glare at him. Anger swells in your chest, that very same anger that you carried with you all that time ago as you watched the Jedi Temple burn down. You remember looking for him, clawing through pieces of wreckage as you searched and called for him. And then there it was, his hand on your shoulder, and you can still remember how the relief felt when it coursed through you.

And yes, you can still remember the betrayal you felt when you realized what he had done.

You hate that he still has this hold over you, this grip on your heart, your mind. Has nothing changed? Has time not cast its spell? Here he is in his dark clothes – a leather tunic, leather trousers, boots, a cape, a mask, gloves – and still a part of you feels like it has finally come home.

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on-board,” Kylo speaks again. You don’t stop glaring. If this is the last thing you’ll ever do, you won’t go down easily. You’ll fight him, you’ll shame him, you’ll combat every remark. You owe him nothing, he owes you everything.

You could have killed him, afterall. After you’d seen exactly what he had done to the Temple, to your fellow Padawans. People were yelling for you to stop him, to trap him, and you . . . Just let him go. You wonder sometimes, even now, how everything may have played out if you had sliced his leg or stalled him or whipped out your own lightsaber.

There could be peace across the galaxy today if you had not loved him more than the future of your fellow civilians.

He looks so strong, so powerful. You remember when he was younger, when his muscles weren’t quite so large and his shoulders weren’t so broad. You wonder what he looks like. Is he scarred? Mutilated beyond recognition? Is that why he wears this mask?

“You’re a coward,” you snarl suddenly, unable to stop yourself. Kylo crouches. You can sense the peculiar look on his face from beneath the mask. “Hiding behind a mask. You don’t even have the guts to look at me with your eyes . . . Do you?”

Hesitation. You sense it from him. How odd.

Then, his hands are lifting and settling at the sides of the mask. He presses buttons at the side, and it hisses as the facepiece unlocks and lifts. Kylo pulls the mask off as he stands once more. He sets it aside, then looks upon you.

Oh.

This is the face of someone worth losing everything over.

His eyes are angry. His brows are thick. His nose is prominent, his lips are plush. Moles and freckles dot his pale skin. His hair is longer now than it was years ago, but still wavy. Still curled at the ends. It takes everything in you not to let the emotions swell. Perhaps this will prove to be more difficult than you thought.

Kylo steps forward, and you don’t dare look away.

“I know the old man gave it to you,” Kylo says. “The map. Tell me where it is.”

You shake your head.

“You of all people should know that I’m not that easy,” you tell him. The corner of his mouth twitches. You remember the summer you spent with him, drunk in love under the bright stars. Oh, the smiles he’d give you. This is nothing in comparison.

“Don’t make me fight for it,” Kylo says. He steps forward again. “We both know I’m stronger. I can take whatever I want.”

Your faces are so close. Your hands are clenched into fists, still. You are aching to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. You look at him and wonder how exactly he plans to take this information from you. The truth is that the map is far away from here by now, and on its way to the Resistance with your BB unit.

You have nothing for him. Even if he finds out about the droid, Kylo and his people will never beat it to the base. Perhaps you are to die tonight at the hands of Kylo Ren. What a heroic way to go. What a beautiful last face to see.

Kylo brings a large, gloved hand up to the side of your face, not touching you but nearly doing so. The Force hums, then. You grunt as you throw up your mental walls, fighting to keep him out.

“You don’t h-have to do this,” you breathe softly, straining against the pain. Kylo says nothing, instead pushing harder. You look away from him, and because you do this, you miss the way his bottom lip quivers briefly. He feels it – everything you’ve carried with you all this time.

“You’re so angry,” he says quietly, almost to himself. You shake your head.

“I-I’ve been captured by your s-slaves,” you quip.

“No,” comes his firm voice. “You’re angry because of what I did at the Temple. Even now, it’s in here.”

“You sound surprised,” you grunt, glaring at him again. His eyes meet yours. “I loved you.”

“You loved what I stood for.”

“I. Loved. You,” you snarl. You shake against the restraints. “Let me out of this wretched thing, face me properly. Or are you too afraid of what I can do?”

Kylo pulls out of your mind. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as he stares at you momentarily. Then, he reaches forward and undoes the cuffs of the interrogation chair. You lunge at him immediately, shoving him so hard that he stumbles back.

You raise your hand to smack him, and he catches your wrists in both of his hands. You knee him in the crotch instead. Kylo grunts, then spins you around and pins you against the wall with his entire firm body pressed against yours. You struggle.

“Get off of me.”

“I told you you were angry,” Kylo says, as if to prove a point.

“Get off.”

“Where is the map?”

“I don’t know.”

Kylo adjusts your wrists so that he’s holding them both in one hand, then brings his other hand up to rest on your throat. Your breath catches.

“Where . . . is it?”

“I don’t know,” You say again, softly this time. Kylo hums, and you feel the energy shifting. Your heart begins to pound. Kylo’s body is hot against yours. You tip your head back to rest against his shoulder. An olive branch. A dove. An offer. His hand slides down from your throat to your left breast. You nearly moan at the feeling – how long have you waited for this? How many nights have you laid awake thinking of this exact scenario? Wondering how how hands would feel on your chest, on your hips, on your–

“You want this,” Kylo says as he squeezes your breast. You sigh.

“I never said I didn’t,” you remark. He leans forward and presses his face against your shoulder, then inhales your scent deeply.

“If you’re gonna take me, then do it,” you say breathily.

“Have you no patience?”

“Clearly not,” you tell him. You feel his erection pressing against you, and you chuckle. “Clearly you don’t, either.”

Kylo turns you around so that he can look at you. You reach up to touch him, running your hand along his cheek. He seems to lean into your touch, and this brings you an odd sense of satisfaction. He still wants you, still wants this.

“Take all this shit off,” you tell him firmly, tugging at his tunic. He says your name, and you shake your head. “I don’t care. Take it off. If you’re gonna kill me over this map, I want to see you one last time.”

You’ve always held your head high, but the truth is that Kylo Ren has haunted you from the moment he left the Temple, lightsaber in-hand. Life is . . . Life is a waiting game now. Wondering how much time you have left, how much time you’ve wasted. But now, here? You know how it could end, and Kylo Ren is taking off his cape and his tunic and his undershirt, and you surge forward to grab a handful of his hair and kiss him.

He gasps against your lips but you only press against him harder. The Force seems to hum around the two of you. Two powerhouses together only means ultimate power, and as Kylo pulls your body forward and yanks at your clothes, you begin to realize that perhaps you should have joined him all those years ago.

It certainly would’ve made life much easier for you.

Kylo shreds your shirt and throws its remnants aside before reaching around to unclip your undergarment. You let him. He kisses you again, and you feel it again – The Force’s strong presence.

You lean back against the wall, and Kylo tugs down your pants eagerly, lips parted and cheeks flushed. What an incredible privilege it is to see him in this way again. You wonder how long it has been for him.

You run your hands along his strong arms – which are much larger than they were the last time you had him like this – and then meet his eyes.

“Please,” you breathe. Kylo nods, reaching down to pull his erection free from his trousers.

“I know,” he says. The emotion from earlier, you feel it finally. Tears fill your eyes as you part your legs for him, bringing one of them up to hook around his hip. Kylo holds the side of your face as a tear escapes you.

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around him in an attempt to bring yourself even closer yet. He enters you, and you moan as he fills you up. Your grip on him tightens. You’ve missed this – you’ve needed it for Gods know how long. Kylo begins to piston his hips, fucking into you, and you groan as he holds you up against the wall.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You moan.

“Faster,” you sob, holding onto his hair, his shoulder. “F-Faster.”

“I’m trying,” Kylo says, rocking his hips back and forth. You sigh as he pleases you. His cock feels magical, like something that was made for you and only for you. You imagine Kylo at brothels and inns with random women, and it makes you hate him. How dare he be with anyone but you. How dare he even consider it.

“Tell me again,” Kylo says. “W-What you said earlier.”

You moan, mind foggy with lust.

“Which thing?” you ask.

“You know.”

You ponder for a moment, then it clicks. You moan.

“I loved you,” you breathe, a lump in your throat. “I did. I-I swear it.”

Kylo nods, his eyes meeting yours.

“I know,” he breathes. You yank on his hair.

“I hate you, now.”

“I know that, too.”

Your chest is hot and filled with unsaid words of affection. Kylo isn’t ready for them, you know that. He may never be. He’s so angry, so full of hate. You can hardly believe he’s doing this with you at all. How will he be when it is over? What will he do to you?

“I hate you for leaving me,” you breathe. Your orgasm is swelling within you, and you know that Kylo is close, too.

“You should have joined me,” Kylo says. You cry out.

“Shut up,” you tell him. He says your name as if it’s a prayer. You shake your head. “Don’t. Don’t. Just make me cum.”

Kylo nods. For once, he has nothing to say, nothing to add. He knows that your time – yours and his – has passed. Destinies have been selected for each of you on opposite sides of this war, and when he is finished with this, he will have to act as if none of it meant anything at all. You’re so angry with him, and he’s so loyal to Snoke – none of it would ever work even if you tried.

But at least you have this. At least you have now.

“I’m close,” Kylo breathes. You nod.

“Me, too,” you say. He pounds into you once, twice, three more times, and he’s moaning your name against your shoulder. You groan at the sound of it. You revel in it, in his desperation, his neediness. You shall never have it again.

He fills you up just like he used to, and you sigh softly as you reach your own peak. His gloved hand travels down to rub your throbbing clit, and when he does, you moan and buck your hips.

“F-Fuck . . .” you sigh. Kylo takes you through it, and when it’s all over, he pulls out slowly. You lower your leg and reach for your pants. Kylo takes a small step back, looking at you momentarily before redressing. You let out a soft, shaky breath as you do the same.

Kylo looks at you once he’s fully clothed, watching you finish getting dressed.

“Tell me where the map is so I can let you go,” he says. You look at him as you tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. Your heart breaks in your chest. His does, too. You both know that this is not the ending that you wanted.

“I can’t,” you say. He says your name. You shake your head. “I made promises, Kylo.” Feeling weak and foolish, Kylo rebinds you to the interrogation chair. You don’t fight him. He opens his mouth to speak, then reaches for his mask and leaves without another word.

Tagging my Star Wars-loving besties: @mrs-gucci @safarigirlsp @babbushka

(Dividers by saradika-graphics)

rynwritesstuff, 2025

#rynwritesstuff #adcu #adam driver #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #adam driver fanfiction #kylo ren x you #kylo ren smut #kylo ren angst #may the 4th #may the fourth #star wars day #may 4 #may the fourth be with you #star wars #star wars smut

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broidobe · 5 months ago

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𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔲𝔯𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔟𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚80s-90s rock masterlist

kurt loves late-night, deep conversations, talking about everything from music to existential questions.

he would be drawn to someone who could match his intellectual curiosity, challenging him while also making him feel understood and supported.

do you think we’ve lived other lives before? like... maybe we were a couple of lost ghosts?

kurt would enjoy quiet, low-key dates, like going to record stores, exploring small art galleries, or just hanging out in a cozy café.

he’s not big on big parties or flashy outings, preferring intimate moments that allow him to connect deeply with someone.

kurt would appreciate someone who’s comfortable in their own skin and doesn’t try to be perfect.

he’d find comfort in someone who, like him, is a bit of a misfit and embraces their flaws and quirks.

music would be the core of kurt’s relationships.

he might write songs or share obscure records with you, using music as a form of communication.

he could be shy about expressing his feelings directly, but would pour his heart into his lyrics.

wrote something today... it reminded me of you. wanna hear it?

he randomly picks up a guitar and starts making up silly songs about everyday things, like your messy hair or how you always steal his socks.

why do you steal his socks though..?

like do you have a crown of his socks?

while he’d be protective and caring, kurt might also pull away at times when the pressure gets too overwhelming.

he'd need space to process his emotions, but he’d always come back with a new understanding of how much you mean to him.

i’m not always easy to be around... i get it if you need space, too.

in relationships, he’s so tender,

especially when you are feeling vulnerable.

he would be someone who would deeply understand emotional pain and would offer comfort, even if it’s just in small, quiet ways.

come here. i need you closer than close.

his ideal partner would need to accept and support his struggles, but not try to fix him.

he would appreciate someone who understands the dark, difficult parts of him and still

chooses to love him anyway.

and you are that person.

he’s never felt safer with a single soul other than yours.

you make me feel like it’s okay to just... exist. and that’s rare for me.

he grabs a hairbrush or random object and pretends to interview you like a journalist.

so, what’s it like dating the most misunderstood genius of our time?

always makes sure you’re at the shows.

he’ll tug you onto the couch and playfully say,

you can’t leave until i get my good luck kiss,

before going on stage.

if he’s feeling nervous, he leans into you and mumbles,

you’ll still love me even if i screw up, right?

mid-song, he makes eye contact with you in the audience and grins or winks, just for you.

#broidobe #kurt cobain x reader #kurt cobain #nirvana #nirvana band #90s grunge #kurt cobain fanfic #dating headcannons

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awriterinthenight · 7 months ago

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"I Might Even Be In Love With You"

requested: anonymous

words: 1233

warning: swearing, that's really it besides the two idiots being oblivious af

summary: Fred Weasley is obsessed with you, a Hufflepuff student, but he's too afraid to admit it, and you're too afraid to admit you love him too

If you looked up the word 'obsessed' in the dictionary, you would find a very distressed picture of Fred Weasley. Fred was obsessed, and every synonym for the word. His entire day revolved around a Hufflepuff girl, who was now the only reason he believed the world still spun. Fred now truly believed nothing mattered before he met her. All that mattered was that she was here now and it was as if he was attached by a red string that kept him tethered to her.

You were everything to Fred and he made sure to keep a firm grip on you. He would be damned if he let you be the one that got away. He might've taken this a bit too literally, since he always had a hand on you.

When you sat together at breakfast when you snuck over to the Gryffindor table, Fred either had his arm around you, or his hand on your thigh, which was becoming more common the longer you knew him. When you hung out with your friends his arm was either around your waist, or he was holding your hand. In class together he would move your chair closer to his, once again resting his hand on your leg, or his arm on the back of your chair.

Fred was notorious for being late to class, but you didn't know that. Fred would walk with you, his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the corridor, to all your classes.

"Aren't you going to be late to your own classes?" you would ask, concerned he would be late, even though he'd rather skip class just to be with you, but this was his best option.

He knew you'd tell him to stop walking you to class if he told you the truth, so he continued to lie, "My class is just down the hall, it's fine, love," he would say, starting to call you 'love' more often.

You reluctantly accepted that he would walk you to class everyday as long as he wasn't late for his own classes. Fred had become your own personal shadow, which you didn't hate. You enjoyed Fred's presence, and how wherever he was you were immediately drawn to him. It was his laugh, or the way he made everyone around him laugh. The smile that was always on his face, or the way he put a smile on everyone's face. Everything about him was perfect to you.

He made you smile, laugh, feel safe around him, and every time he touched you in some way it gave you butterflies. You had the biggest crush, if it was even that anymore, it was more like you were irreparably in love with him. The only thing was that even though it seemed obvious, you still didn't think Fred returned your feelings for him. Anyone sane would say it was obvious, but to you Fred was always laughing and joking with everyone, the same way he was with you, just maybe less touchy, so you didn't know if he liked you or not, and decided to play it safe.

Luckily your friends were also fed up with you and Fred doing the world's most complicated dance to avoid saying your feelings for each other while also putting them all on display for each other. Angelina was currently trying to knock some sense into you, as the two of you hung out in her dorm room that you snuck into.

"When will you accept that he's obsessed with you, and you both are crazy in love with each other, and will one day be married with 5 kids," Angelina said, annoyed by how you were so blind to all of this.

You let out a sigh, "We don't actually know that, and shut up with the whole 5 kids thing, I swear you add one more each time we have this conversation," you told her, putting your head in your hands.

Angelina was moments away from knocking some sense into you, literally, but lucky for you Katie walked in the room, "Katie, please tell our oblivious friend here, that Fred Weasley is in love with her, and there's no denying it," Angelina said, desperate to get her friend to finally come to the realisation.

Katie looked like she'd just been told the most outrageous thing ever, which she just had, "How do you not see that he's completely in love with you. I mean he's late to class almost everyday because of you-" she cut herself off, but not fast enough to realise her mistake.

Your head sprung up, shocked by her words, "What do you mean he's late to class because of me?"

"Well, the thing is," Katie started, looking a bit nervous, "He told us not to tell you because he knew if you found out you'd stop him from walking you to class, so he had us not tell you," she explained, looking apologetic for letting the secret slip.

"Wait, but why would he do that unless," you said, the lightbulb in your head finally turning on, "I'll be right back," you were not going to be back actually. Angelina was finally relieved that you finally realised, so much so that she was on the verge of throwing a party.

You found Fred talking to George in an empty corridor. Fred saw you and ushered for George to leave, so that it was just you and Fred, "Hello, love, what can I do for you?" he asked, leaning against the wall with his trademark smile on his face.

"You lied to me," you stated, causing him to look confused, then realise what you were talking about.

Fred continued to smile at you, but pushed off the wall moving closer to you, "I'm sorry, love, but I just knew if I told you the truth you'd make me stop walking you to class," he defended.

You crossed your arms, "But why did you do it?" you asked, needing to confirm the truth before you said it out loud.

"Lie to you? I told you why, you'd make me stop-" he said, deflecting from the question, since he knew what you truly meant.

"No, I mean why did you walk me to class even if you knew you'd be late."

Fred let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding in, "I-I, I don't know I just like walking you to class, since I-I," he said, continuing to stumble a bit, which was unusual, "I really like you, I might even be in love with you," he confessed.

You were shocked and at a loss for words, but tried to pull yourself together as best as possible, "I really like you too, love you even," you confessed also, beaming from how overjoyed you felt.

Fred moved even closer to you, wrapping his hands around your waist, leaning in a bit, "There's usually something two people do when they're in love with each other," Fred hinted at playfully.

"Oh yeah, and what's that," you teased. Fred wasted no time connecting your lips together. Your hands found the back of his head, running them through his hair, while his hands stayed on your waist. Both of your torments were finally over. You could be in love forever, and in the words of Angelina get married and have 6 kids.

#x reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley #harry potter

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appleblueberry-pie · 1 year ago

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yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere character #reader #across the spiderverse #itsv #atsv #yandere atsv #yandere atsv x reader #yandere 42 miles x reader #yandere 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #yandere miles x reader #yandere miles morales x reader #yandere miles morales #miles morales imagine

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kumiaku · 8 months ago

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Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation (Laios)

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation, Laios Touden x Reader, Dungeon Meshi

Masterlist

Misc. Tags - gn reader, blood is drawn but dw its just a nick from a knife, in true kumiaku fashion cannibalism is mentioned, oral fixation, finger sucking, comedy, shenanigans, laois is implied to be a virgin, cunnilingus/ass eating - hole is used for gn-ness, praise

WC - 1,135

Nsfw under cut

It was day two of being separated from the rest of the group, no Marcille, no Senshi, no Chilchuck, you were stuck with Laios. It wasn’t too bad, he was a very genuine person, but listening to his voice could become a bit grating after a while. You scrunched your mouth to the side as you continued to peel the potato looking thing you picked up, whilst Laios was busy telling you how it related to the man-eating plants and the ways in which it might’ve traveled down floors.

You almost let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, some ache on either side of your temples felt as if your head was being squashed together, then your knife slipped - and you sucked in a sharp breath. A line of red cut diagonally across your finger tip, it didn’t hurt too bad, but it’d be hell until you could get it patched up by Marcille. Holding weapons, spoons, opening doors, every meaningless everyday task would be impeded by the slight ache.

Laios paused his infodumping, your name leaving his lips as he walked over, peering at your bloody finger, “oh, that doesn’t look too good.” It was closer to a murmur than anything else as he grabbed hand with his warm hands and raised it up, holding it over your head. “You should keep it over your head, I think.”

You nodded, turning your head to search for the bandages you had in your bag, “yeah, I got some bandages in my pack. It’ll be fine, ‘s not too deep.”

It really didn’t hurt too badly, just felt warm, searing almost, and strange that the same sweltering liquid began to run down your finger. You looked back over briefly, only to see a slightly panicked look on Laios’ face and in the next second, he pulled your arm backwards and up, trapping your bleeding finger in his mouth.

You let out some indignant squeak, anger blistering under your skin as you turned to him - only for it to be raked over the coals and instead leaving some low and slow simmering heat in your stomach. His mouth moved around your finger, tongue dragging across the cut and collecting the blood, scratching just enough for it to pinch but enough that it didn’t hurt.

Whatever words you would’ve shouted left your mouth with your breath, lungs emptied as you stared at him, face burning with blood but not anger. Maybe it was some underlying admiration for Laios and his borderline unhinged knowledge and fascination for monsters, or maybe you were simply starving for touch after the past couple months, but damn that was hot.

You openly stared at him, mouth ajar, until he opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically, pulling back and licking his lips... before speaking. “I thought you were getting the bandages.”

If you were flushed before, you were glowing now, fumbling with your back and one hand quickly grabbing the bandages as if you weren’t just openly, and hungrily, staring at Laios. “Ahah, yeah, here!” You hand them off to him, hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions - wait.

You purse your lips as you watch him wrap the bandages around your small wound, most of the blood already cleaned up by Laios’ lips. Did you want him to ask more questions? This moment would surely haunt your dreams, so did you just want to take the chance given?

You eyed the unfinished lunch preparations, then the small smile on Laios’ face. And a weight settled in your stomach as you sunk your decision into place. “Hey, Laios. How hungry are you?”

“Hm - oh well, pretty hungry I’d say.” He released your hand and looked down at the preparations already made, “though a good amount of our ingredients were with Senshi, we were lucky to stumble upon those man eating plants earlier, but we have to skin all of them to prepare them, dice them, then use the-”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” You interrupt him, pressing your lips out into a pout and your voice more secretive and sultry, “Y’know, you could eat me instead.”

Laios paused, he slowly turned his head to the point where you could hear the gears grinding, tilting it then having the audacity to ask, “isn’t that cannibalism?”

“NO!” You shook your head, hand coming up to your forehead, flush on your cheeks almost too much to bear, but you chose to just bear through it, you’d already come this far after all. “I meant - I meant like in a sexy way.”

“Oh.” Laios closed his eyes and let out a semi-relieved sigh, then he paused, opening his eyes and locking his eyes to yours again. “OH.”

It was like a switch had been flipped and his expression morphed into one of open mouthed redness. You watched him, letting the idea steep in his mind for a second, shifting your legs slightly from where you sat.

“You mean - like -” Laios again tried to clarify, his shocked expression not exactly gone yet.

You sucked in a breath and more confidently nodded, “yup, that’s what I mean. It’s up to you, of course, but it’s something I think I’d really enjoy.”

“Wait - what brought this up?” Laios’ flush died down somewhat as his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes having a hard time focusing on just you. “I mean - I would, will, I will but -”

“Your tongue.” You tap your finger to his mouth again, a small bit of pain resonates beneath the bandages, more than it hurt earlier, but dulled through sheer warmth settling in your lower stomach. “It was hot.”

Laios nodded like he was studying your response, but it didn’t take long for him to sink to his knees before you, hands on your knees, spreading them with you. You positioned yourself accordingly, settling your weight differently but still trying to keep an eye on Laios as he removed your undergarments.

He almost seemed to look at you for guidance for a couple seconds before resolving himself and experimentally flicking his tongue around your hole. You watched him with stifled breaths, before realizing that it would probably be better if you gave him more verbal encouragement. “That’s good.” You nodded, voice only a tad more breathy than usual.

Your idea of praise did seem to work, as he was a bit more forthcoming, soft instructions from you leading to more vigor on Laios’ part as he worked to settle into this position. It wasn’t long before that accursed tongue of his truly began to take action inside of you and his voracious appetite was truly pushed to the front. His mouth seemingly a black hole devouring you and the moans that slipped from your lips.

#laios touden #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon x reader #laios x reader #dunmeshi #dunmeshi smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024

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dunmeshistash · 1 year ago

Note

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

#Reading dungeon meshi while shaking my head so people know I think the representation could have been better #dunmeshi complaint #I think there's reasons why her more diverse art is outside the main story/main characters #by that I mean PROBABLY some choices were made for whats easier to sell

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vii0so · 8 months ago

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[BSD 120] Theory/Analysis

These are my first thoughts on parts of chapter 120. It includes my personal interpretations and theories of certain things.

Warning: Spoilers ahead

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1. Akutagawa & "True strength"

In my previous theory, I believed Rashoumon was in control of Aku's body (hence the old speech and clothing choice).

In BSD, abilities are the soul. "True strength" and "within yourself" could point to Rashoumon.

It could be that Akutagawa has inherited the purpose of his ability (Rashoumon). Therefore unlocking its full potential and or memories. Hence the drastic change that Atsushi sees.

The "purpose" stuff was another thing I briefly mentioned in my previous theory. In short: Purpose = job (e.g. the bookmark)

"This blade serves the heavens"

This blade = "I" (Akutagawa/Rashoumon)

The heavens = probably "the book"

"This soul follows the path of righteousness"

This soul = Rashoumon

This would mean: Rashoumon is righteous.

"The path of the knight"

Knight = Protector/Defender

This could mean Rashoumon is the book's protector.

So his purpose could be the book's "Knight", just like Atsushi is the book's "Bookmark".

If we want to say it in book terms, it'd be the book's cover.

─────────────✧

"Idea. Will. All are empty."

This is directed at Akutagawa. Saying that he has no individual thoughts or will, he is just an empty shell.

I believe this can be seen as saying "You're a puppet."

This could mean that the current Akutagawa is like this because his role as the "knight" is needed (A god-level threat to the book has appeared and needs to be dealt with).

Meaning, it could very well be his soul's (Rashoumon's) purpose (the knight) has taken control. Making him a puppet with the only thing moving him being his purpose.

─────────────✧

███▒▒▒▒▒▒▒

2. The higher dimension

First off: If we think of the real world where we are, then the BSD universe would be a "lower dimension" to us.

In BSD, the book can change/shape their world and therefore is part of the "higher dimension"

Basically, anything that doesn't follow the law of abilities and/or our everyday normal earth standards, can be considered as a higher dimensional being/thing.

As Fyodor explained: Stabbing a page will "kill" the character drawn on it. No matter how OP they are, they will never be able to perceive our dimension (reality) and therefore will not be able to stop it.

To make it easier: An author can write a story where the mc faces an enemy and dies. The author controlled the story/fate of the mc. The mc would never be able to stop that from happening.

...Actually this example would be closer to what the book does...they are a similar plane of existence but not the same. Fyodor's example is better for Ame-no-Gozen though.

─────────────✧

Let's think of it the other way around to better explain:

In short: if you were to write/draw a character, that character would never directly be able to harm you or interact with you. That's because we're in a higher dimensional plane of existence.

Stories may just be fiction to us but to the characters they are real, just like life for us is real.

When a character becomes aware that there is a higher dimension/they are in a story, they still can't physically/directly interact with our world. The most they can do, is "break the 4th wall" and indirectly interact with the audience (e.g. talking to/looking at the camera/us).

─────────────✧

Random:

The book is a higher plane of existence than anything in the BSD universe. Hence why anything written in it becomes the truth.

Ame-no-Gozen is a lower dimension than the book.

Therefore, if someone wrote Ame-no-Gozen out of existence in the book, it would be considered true and he'd be gone.

─────────────✧

█████▒▒▒▒▒

3. Fyodor's Plane

This entire "plane to board" thing has had me worried since the previous chapter.

I know they want us to think of this:

But it still feels odd. He gets on that, becomes undetectable. Is that what he's really planning to do though?

He says it's not his concern (whether they live or die) but it seems like a definite lie. In one way or another, it matters.

He seems to be in a hurry. It doesn't seem fake, in actuality it seems like he's trying to hide how urgently he needs to leave.

He completely dropped the whole "Dazai wasn't it so I'll just take Atsushi" and switched to "I don't care whether any of you die".

Honestly, he probably decided to drop the "other half" stuff when he realised Atsushi didn't have the same thoughts as the tiger.

And the "idc what happens to you lol" is more like "I need to leave quickly so let's stop here" which shows urgency.

Which means, Fyodor has somewhere to be...and fast.

Okay, this next theory is a long shot even for me, but what if he needs to get to Sigma before he wakes up?

Don't ask me why, I'm not sure. But it sure is something to think about. It's time-sensitive and we're aware that Sigma hasn't woken up yet. It seems to fall into place with the urgency.

─────────────✧

███████▒▒▒

4. Fukuzawa's Survival

This seems like a challenge to battle but Fukuzawa knew there was no way of fighting Ame-no-Gozen. So who is he challenging?

Fyodor.

Yep, Fukuzawa will fight Fyodor...

All the people (including me) that believed Fukuzawa will die at some point in the story, might be right after this battle.

Why does he say it like that?

And why does he look like he hesitated?

I checked the Japanese and it's: 特には (toku-ni-ha)

Which means:

Note: The "ha" (pronounced "wa") is a particle.

Fyodor, what do you mean?! Is it that you care about his survival "in particular" or "not particularly"? (...I should just leave this to those who are fluent in Japanese. I'm overcomplicating stuff again.)

Anyway, I feel like there's more to this than what we're seeing (Or maybe I just forgot something...)

─────────────✧

5. Where's Rampo?

...no, seriously, where is he during all this?

He's probably doing stuff in the background to help fix this situation but we haven't even seen a glimpse of him since Fyodor came back.

Maybe we'll see him during the Fyodor vs Fukuzawa fight.

─────────────✧

██████████ Completed!

TLDR:

Akutagawa is basically Rashoumon right now.

Akutagawa is the book's "cover" (protector/knight)

Higher & lower dimension = Pretty much the same difference between us and any character in BSD.

Fyodor may need to get to Sigma before he wakes up. Hence the urgency to leave the fight.

Fukuzawa might die fighting Fyodor.

#bsd #bsd spoilers #bsd akutagawa #bsd manga #bsd theories #bsd analysis #bsd fyodor #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fukuzawa #bsd 120 #bsd thoughts #bsd the book #bsd atsushi

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stonecoldholly · 1 month ago

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Worldwalker: Chapter 14

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

Warnings - arguments, sexual tension

Word Count - 12.2k

A/N - Please see the AO3 link in regards to the scraping of this story last month and my thoughts on it. Shit hurts man, but...we will continue on, keeping on. Thank you to all of you, who take the time to read these novel like chapters. I love you, truly.

AO3 Link

Part 15

“I wish I could have known that look in your eyes would echo in mine and go back,

Out of my mind, across the line, when was the last time I felt like this?

Dark desire and tainted bliss; it's like you're dangerous to me.

I notice every time we meet, I feel the ground beneath my feet giving way."

Dangerous – Sleep Token

Velaris, Night Court, Prythian

The sense of absolute power that surged through the Night Court seemed entirely focused on that modestly sized Townhouse nestled along the quiet street. Unbeknownst to the citizens of Velaris, the High Lord of Spring sat within the protected heart of their territory, brought along by their very own emissary. And while that wasn't against any current laws, it was far more than simply 'frowned upon' by the governmental officials of the Night Court.

During some downtime in the House of Wind, Sam poured over the laws of the Courts and the current Treaty of Prythian to better understand how life worked in this world. If she would be dealing with Eris or other high-ranking officials across Prythian, she should know the basics of their laws. Of course, she didn't know everything, nor was she able to retain it all, given the expansive history of this world, but even she couldn't think of any laws that had been broken. If anything, both Lucien and Tamlin followed the correct procedures of those laws.

Azriel and Cassian stood as an intimidating show of force and dominance within the living room's threshold, drawn weapons glinting dangerously in the faelights and siphons eagerly glowing against their dark leathers. The talons of both sets of wings flashed as ominous omens above their heads among the dim lighting, and the curtain of black shadows encased their torsos, suffocating the illusion of space between them and Sam's position. The pair looked every bit of five-hundred-year-old warriors readying to fight, terrifying and lethal.

Tamlin's head dropped in either defeat or shame, but Sam didn't know him well enough to pinpoint it. Lucien's head was propped up onto the sofa's backrest, his eyelids closing and him taking a deep breath to likely steady himself before the onslaught of chaos crept closer to their temporary sanctuary. Tension began to fill the air as Sam looked down at her open hands that were resting on her bare, blood-covered thighs as she continued to kneel on the red-stained carpet. Lucien's blood caked along her fingernail beds, and hand prints smeared on her skin and clothes from where she wiped them to get a better grip on the needle.

She could only imagine what the scene looked like from their point of view. As innocent as she was, she felt enormous guilt settling its weight upon her shoulders. She glanced at Tamlin, taking in his slumped posture and pinched brows. Was he hurt as well? They hadn’t had time to check him over for injuries, set on assuring Lucien would survive his wounds. Sam’s eyes ran along Lucien’s bare legs, up his naked torso that was continuing to heal from their handiwork, and finally to his face – bloodied but gaining color again.

God, this was a horrible situation to be in.

"Sam," the sound of a rough, tightly controlled voice caused her to snap her head toward Cassian and Azriel. Azriel stared holes at her, almost looking through her, the corner of his lips curling in a near snarl. "Come here,".

In any other situation, Sam would have snapped at him that she wasn't a dog, but even she knew now was not the time to mouth off. She didn't have the upper hand nor the strength to defy Azriel in front of Tamlin, another High Lord. Lucien shot her an apologetic look when she turned her attention back to him. She laid her hand on Lucien's, giving it a tight squeeze in reassurance while offering a nervous smile in return. The tackiness of his blood made the skin of their hands slide against each other as she used his arm to steady herself.

Rising to her feet, Sam cast another glance at Tamlin, who had yet to move from his position, his eyes still downcast on the floor below him. The adrenaline was dissipating from her system and causing her muscles to shake in protest to bear her weight. Her legs wobbled, blood rushing back into them from kneeling for so long, and she could feel her bare feet squelching in the puddle of Lucien's blood beneath her. She tried not to think about it or the stickiness that covered what felt like every bare inch of her. Sam's night clothes were caked with it, molding to her body like a second skin uncomfortably and leaving little to the imagination of what lay underneath. She felt overly exposed and embarrassed but no less grateful that she had been in the Townhouse to save Lucien's life. He had saved her, and she returned the favor; the life debt had been wiped clean.

As Sam got to where the Illyrian warriors stood, Azriel grabbed Sam's hand and pulled her toward him, looking over her body for any obvious signs of injury or an indication that the blood she had on her was hers. She shivered against his piercing assessment, his shadows swarming her and running along her body, reporting back to Azriel on their findings.

"Are you okay?" He asked, dragging his eyes along her body. His jaw was clenched tightly, the muscle along the side of his face throbbing with the force of his teeth grinding together.

"I'm fine," Sam assured, turning her head to look back at Tamlin and Lucien, who had managed to pull his trousers back on. The shadows immediately blocked her view of the two males, forcing her to turn back to Azriel and Cassian. Sam felt dazed and confused at the sudden shift of tension in the air and the severity of the situation.

Cassian barely looked at her, keeping his eyes on the two fae males before him, either out of training or respect for Sam's modesty. He glanced in her direction long enough to assure himself she was okay. "Seeing you covered in blood is becoming a thing, Sammi. One that I don't like."

"At least it's not mine this time." Sam tried to lighten the mood, but it only made Azriel grip her hand tighter, and his posture became rigid. She felt the slight pull of her arm in his direction, almost like Azriel was resisting the urge to whisk her away from the situation.

"Let's not make it a habit," Cassian replied, his expression returning to the stoic, hard mask as he turned his attention to the males before him. The shadows eased from around her, done with their assessment but lingering around her enough that her chest and hips were hard to see. "Lucien, it's good to see you. Tamlin."

Lucien carefully maneuvered himself off the couch, Tamlin helping him stand. Sam stepped back towards Lucien to help, but Azriel pulled her back, keeping her glued to his side. Sam dared to glimpse him, but he wasn't looking at her. He was staring at Lucien like he wanted to rip him apart, and it was making Sam nervously shift her weight from foot to foot. She turned to peer up at Cassian; his expression wasn't as severe as Azriel's, but it was no less intimidating. A passing thought had her comparing them to angry gods hellbent on retribution.

Lucien caught her eye, half-smiling in his own reassurance and gratefulness. "Thank you, Sam."

Sam smiled at him, honest and full, relieved he was standing, talking, and alive. Just a half hour ago, he had been ushered to death’s hall, and she had helped prevent that. She could cry at the relief it took from her shoulders to see the color returning in his skin and his healing abilities finishing her and Tamlin's work.

Azriel dropped her hand and stepped ahead, snapping his wing out to block Cassian and Sam from Lucien and Tamlin's sight. A rumble emitted from his throat in warning; Sam shuddered at the dark sound and allowed Cassian to gently pull her to his side. His arm crossed along the front of her torso, ready to push her behind him at a second's notice.

"What an interesting situation to walk into," The velvet voice of her High Lord was unmistakable, if not frightening, at how calm it was. She slowly turned around to face the destroyed entrance of the Townhouse and saw Rhysand, in all of his otherworldly beauty, standing among the rubble of what used to be the front door and lazily dusting off the shoulders of his black suit jacket. "I'm sure someone would love to explain what's happened here." His eyes took in the state of her being and connected it to Lucien's scarring torso and Tamlin's equally bloodied clothes.

Sam felt six inches tall under his gaze.

"Not everyone speak at once," Rhysand said with a slight upturn of his lips when no one came forward. Clearly, he expected Lucien and Tamlin to explain themselves first, likely already having gotten a brief from his Spymaster and General through their connection.

As Lucien opened his mouth to speak, Sam felt the sharp talon gently caress the edges of her mind, and she resisted the urge to tense up at the intrusion. She didn't have a good track record, with Rhys gallivanting through her memories, her stomach twisting at the reminder of last time, but it was necessary, so she let him in.

"Thank you, Sam."

She watched the night's events play out in her mind as Lucien’s voice sounded in the distance, explaining the situation to the best of his abilities. Once Rhys was done, he carefully exited her mind, allowing her to see clearly again. Azriel had stepped back, but his wing was still blocking her body from the other male's sight. Lucien kept looking at her, seemingly ready to grab her and disappear if he could. His constant attention on her only continued to make Azriel more agitated whenever Lucien was caught.

Rhys gave no indication that he was listening to Lucien as he waved his hand to remove the blood from her person and conjured a cloak to wrap around Sam's shoulders. She gave him a thankful look, tucking the cloak's edges to her sides. "You may drop your wing, brother." He told Azriel quietly with a hand on his shoulder.

With a shared look between the two and a firm squeeze on Azriel's shoulder, his wing retracted back, allowing Sam to be seen by the others. It did nothing to relieve the stiffness in his posture nor the murderous gaze set on Lucien and Tamlin. Sam stayed beside Cassian, who had yet to remove his arm from in front of her.

"And what say you, High Lord of Spring? Do you have anything to add to this thrilling tale?" Rhysand's hands were in his pockets, the picture of cool elegance and ease.

Tamlin only stared directly at Rhysand as he spoke, hostility dripping from every word, "After visiting me in Spring, Lucien planned to see his mother in Autumn, and I escorted him to the borderline. Since my Court has all but disbanded," Sam caught the accusation in his tone, but Rhys didn't seem bothered by any of it. "Some of the creatures have taken over parts of the land. I didn't want Lucien to encounter any of the hordes."

She could feel the tension ramping back up in that small living room. There were huge holes in the story and lies stacked upon each other; a simple visit to his mother took three weeks and ended with him nearly dying on the couch? No, something wasn’t right.

"We were near the eastern coast and heard the Autumn borders had been sealed. Given that Lucien is still recognized as an heir, we believed it would let him pass regardless. When they didn't, we returned to our camp along the coastal cliffs when we saw Vallahan ships making landfall."

To his credit, Rhys didn't show whether this news affected him. "And how sure were you that they were Vallahan soldiers?"

"Perhaps being up close and personal enough to be stabbed wasn't close enough." Lucien glared at Rhysand, and it caused Cassian and Azriel to bristle. "They made landfall and tried to access Autumn's borders themselves. They didn't get through either."

"Why would they try to get into Autumn? Why would they use Spring Court as access?" Surely, Rhys knew the answers already.

"Were we supposed to stop and have a chat? I’ll be sure to make a point to schedule a picnic next time."

"Lucien..." Sam warned, looking at him with narrowing eyes. It was all very familiar, even if the roles were reversed. At one point, Lucien was warning her to watch her mouth.

Lucien barely spared her a glance. "Obviously, they are looking for something, and I think we know what or rather who they are looking for, Rhysand, or at least the evidence of it."

Tamlin let his eyes catch hers, questions lingering on the tip of his tongue that Sam couldn't answer. With wide eyes and a subtle shake of her head, Sam warned Tamlin against asking.

Rhys’s eyes flickered towards Tamlin before returning to Lucien, “You seem to have loose lips, Lucien, but...not enough to trigger the bargain. Find a loophole, did we?”

Lucien hardly blinked, "The time is coming for us to do something before Vallahan sends out an entire army in search of her. You know as well as I do, Rhysand, that we are working on borrowed time. We can incapacitate only so many search parties before they retaliate."

Sam's breath got caught in her throat, and she took an involuntary step back into Cassian's wing. Cassian shuddered but pulled her against his side, squeezing her arm to comfort her. The thought of bringing an unintended battle to this land she had grown so fond of was like twisting a knife in her heart.

“It will all be okay, Sam.” Rhys’s voice echoed through her mind.

"When and if the time comes that we must show force, we have no problem doing so," Cassian spoke up, eyes trained on Lucien. "The Illyrians are on standby should the need arise.”

Lucien and Tamlin shared a look, a silent conversation passing between the two as the others looked on. They were still holding something back; they had witnessed something or heard something they were unwilling to share with Rhysand. Sam wondered why that was, what had happened to have Lucien distrust the High Lord of Night besides the obvious. Despite their differences, Lucien had become Night's emissary – had something changed?

Lucien, having decided to continue on, turned back to Rhysand and said, "Beron has secured his Court to prevent any further investigations, and I'm sure my brother is spinning the tale of a lifetime trying to come up with a reason as to why there are soldiers from the Continent attempting to invade his territory." It was clear that even with the tense history between Lucien and Eris, Lucien still cared deeply for his brother and felt some guilt for pulling his home Court and his family into the mix. “Spring is the easiest way to access the rest of Prythian – the same method Hybern used on his march of the Courts."

A new flower of guilt bloomed in Sam's stomach.

"Eris is a very convincing manipulator; I have no doubt he has the situation close in hand," Rhys answered diplomatically, his violet eyes running along the flesh of Lucien’s chest as it finished stitching itself together. "He understood what he needed to do from the beginning and is upholding his end of the bargain."

Sam's mind latched onto what Rhys had said or, rather, how he said them. After signing the contracts, Eris had written about a bargain tattoo that had appeared on his body. A tattoo that she didn't have. Sam wondered why she didn't have a new, matching tattoo with Eris or wasn't tied to him like the others. Every bargain made in the Night Court was inked in skin, and she was under the impression that signing the contracts that pertained to her was an extension of a bargain.

So, the only reason she wouldn't have a tattoo connecting her to Eris is because he didn't sign her contracts.

She wouldn't have a matching tattoo because Eris didn't have a bargain with her; Eris had a bargain with Rhys.

Rhys was already looking at her when her head snapped up to him. The sparkle in his eye gave away nothing but everything simultaneously, and Sam could only blink at him in surprise. Even the stories in her world warned of the fae being master manipulators of deals and bargains and warned her to be wary when entering into an agreement with them. A sinking feeling formed in her gut as she wondered what exactly her contracts said when she signed them in her confused, stressed, and vulnerable state? She had hardly read them, barely knew what they said in its entirety. Did Rhys count on that?

Something much larger was at play than just her; she was just the excuse for it. Something that Rhys had determined was more important than simply offering information to Eris about her existence.

Rhysand was playing chess; Eris was his rook, and Sam was his pawn.

But what was the endgame?

"We can send out scouting missions along the coastlines to locate other stragglers. I assume you've dealt with all the ones you've encountered?"

Tamlin answered, "Of course we did. We left one half-dead and warded, tied to a tree for interrogation by your Spymaster. You’re welcome."

Azriel's wings twitched in confirmation that he would deal with the dying soldier, but he did not move to do so then. Rhys smirked at Tamlin’s annoyance, "I only wanted confirmation. I know how low you are on your own defenses and soldiers, given the state of your territory."

A glimmer began to sparkle along Tamlin's hands, and Sam could have sworn she saw what she could only describe as claws peeking through the skin between his knuckles. At the sight of them, Cassian pushed Sam behind him, and Azriel took another step closer to Tamlin.

"Now, now, let's not rile my Spymaster up any more than you already have." Rhys couldn't drop the smirk on his face even if he tried. "We still need to discuss why you thought it necessary to bring him here, Lucien."

Lucien actually looked ashamed, casting another guilty look in Sam's direction before answering, "I knew it would be safe. I knew that if I could make it here, then I had a chance to live. I didn’t mean to put Sam in danger, Rhysand; you must know that."

Rhys hummed, "And Tamlin just had to accompany you? Or did he insist on seeing the depraved, horrible Night Court himself?"

"I wanted to make sure my friend would survive; I don’t care about your Court or whatever you have going on here." Tamlin nodded towards Sam, and Azriel took another step forward, nearly on top of the two males. His eyes were wild as he pierced Tamlin with a glare that could cut into pieces. Tamlin only stared back at Azriel, a near challenge that had Sam’s brows rising.

She reached out to touch Azriel's arm, but Cassian stopped her gently, shaking his head and warning her not to touch Azriel. Her brows pinched, her nose slightly crinkling, but she dropped her hand, watching the stiff posture of Azriel’s back as he breathed slowly.

"So, not even a tiny amount of you is disappointed that Feyre isn't standing before you now?" Rhys probed, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly. "You had no other agenda than to see your friend to safety?"

"None," Tamlin answered, ignoring the jab about Feyre, "And whatever you have going on with this mortal, I want no part of. I’ve had enough of human women."

Sam didn't take offense, didn't view it as an insult to her, but apparently Azriel did. He went to stalk forward before immediately halting his steps, almost statue-like, and Sam knew that seizing his posture was not his own doing. Rhys had stopped him in his mind, possibly ordering him to stand down, and, as trained to do, he did.

Rhys continued speaking to Tamlin and Lucien as if he didn't just mind-control his own Shadowsinger. "You put my Court in perceived danger, along with a mortal residing in my Court. No notice was given to indicate that another High Lord would enter my territory, and you bypassed all security checks. That is a punishable offense."

“It was for good reason; your emissary was dying."

“Azriel, Cassian, detain Spring’s High Lord and bring him to the Court of Nightmares for further questioning.”

“What? You can’t do that.” Sam’s head whipped towards Rhys, finally ungluing herself from Cassian’s side to step forward towards Rhys while Cassian walked ahead of her towards Tamlin. “He can’t be punished for that. Stop, Cassian!”

Suddenly, as if a spotlight was turned on, all eyes were on her.

Rhys, his eyes glowing with mischief and his lips curled in a subtle smirk, purred, "And why can't I do that, Sam?"

If she could rewind time to fifteen seconds ago, she would have done so, and keeping her mouth shut would have been her number one objective. Shuffled her weight from foot to foot and pushing back her hair with trembling fingers, Sam felt exposed. Her voice got caught in her throat as she spared Lucien and Tamlin a glance, ignoring how Azriel seemed to vibrate with barely contained rage at the action.

Rhys raised a perfectly manicured brow in question, silently urging her to speak.

Yeah, Sam should have kept her mouth shut. She glanced worriedly at Lucien again, who looked at her with understanding. Then, Lucien looked over at Rhys, and a dark expression crossed his face for the smallest moments. He knew what she knew. "Because it was a life-savin’ measure that was taken, and that can’t be punished." Her eyes flickered back towards the Night Court’s High Lord.

For a moment, Sam felt like that know-it-all kid in class who couldn't shut up to save her life, always needing the correct answer. He was doing this intentionally – Rhy was purposefully backing her into a corner to gain the upper hand. He clearly knew his own laws, having written a few himself. He was banking on her, and she stupidly fell into the trap. That if she defended Lucien and Tamlin in front of her own High Lord and 'saved' them, it would cause them both to be indebted to her.

And to be indebted to somebody was a powerful position to hold.

Judging by the nearly there smile on Rhys' face, she believed she was right.

And now he was forcing her hand to continue and claim that debt despite not wanting to do it.

Sam took a deep breath, looking down at the blood droplets that had fallen from her person and onto the carpet before Rhys had cleansed her. "If a Court official is injured or killed in action, another Court official or high-rankin’ member of any Court may aid them with either life-savin’ measures and or return their body to their home Court or claimed Court. Wards will be spelled to allow access to otherwise closed or inaccessible Court borders and can not be punishable by incarceration or death." Sam frowned at her first friend in this world. They had just cleared a life debt between them, and now, another debt took its place. "The Night Court border wards recognized Lucien and the state he was in and allowed Tamlin to pass through, as did the wards on Velaris and the Townhouse. Neither can be taken into custody nor imprisoned – if anything, what Tamlin did was by the book."

The following silence only solidified her guilt as Lucien mouthed 'thank you' to her, his eyes soft while sorrow reflected back in hers. If she could only borrow Rhys's power for a second to tell him that he owes her nothing in return, she would give anything that was asked. Lucien had given her enough – his friendship was enough for her; his being alive was enough.

"It seems that the Mother has a shining light on you two," Rhys finally said after a moment's pause. "I believe Sam here just saved your hides."

Lucien and Tamlin gave her a nod, but she looked to the floor in exchange, dodging their eyes.

“You may retire for the night at your own apartment, Lucien. I will expect a full debriefing in the morning. Tamlin,” Rhys looked the High Lord up and down, violet eyes taking in every blood stain and wrinkle of his tunic. “Be gone by the morning.”

Rhys walked out of the living room, disappearing just outside the Townhouse in a swirl of night. Cassian surveyed the room before heading outside, motioning for the two other males to follow him as he passed. As Sam stood just behind Azriel, watching Lucien and Tamlin follow Cassian out, Josh and Lucien’s words rang through her mind,

“No, but it does seem to find you.”

Once they were alone, Azriel led Sam back down the hallway she had come from earlier, gripping her arm so tightly that she was sure she would have bruises. He was clearly angry, but Sam didn't know if it was at her, Lucien, Tamlin, or the general situation. Whichever it was, Sam was about to receive the full brunt of it, and she was entirely sure she deserved it. She deserved some kind of anger, but with the level of fury that radiated off of him – Sam wasn't sure it would be warranted.

Her bedroom door was opened with alarming force, and Azriel stormed in, shadows bursting through the space, likely to ensure privacy and security. Sam was yanked into the room with him, almost stumbling at the strength of his manhandling. The sudden momentum stunned her enough to barely keep her feet under her.

The door slammed closed with a deafening bang, shaking the door frame and sealing them and the hostile air inside the bedroom. Sam removed the cloak and ran her hands down her tank top to smooth the wrinkles, still feeling the stickiness of half-dried blood covering her body and clothes. She was dying for a shower that would wash away not only the residue of Lucien’s blood but also the night's events. This world, her life, was making her head spin.

Hesitantly, she turned to face Azriel, who was pressing his hands so hard against the door paneling that she half expected him to fall through it. She watched his shoulders rise and fall, his wings along with them, while he steadied his breathing enough to converse with her.

She could appreciate the effort of releasing anger before speaking; Sam had used the exact anger technique a few times. When her rage was so consuming, she would find a wall and press as hard as she could against it, allowing the shaking of her straining muscles to tire out the anger.

It worked. Sometimes.

"I can't leave you alone for an hour without you either getting into some trouble or nearly dying, can I?" The words were so carefully controlled that they even sounded wrong to her ears.

She knew that it was a rhetorical question. It didn't require an answer, but Sam was so thrown by the night's events that the filter that was supposed to exist between her brain and mouth had simply vanished.

"Well, it's not like I asked for any of this to happen," Sam mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Her disbelief that this was her life was an extreme understatement, one that she was still having a hard time wrapping her head around. "What was I supposed to do? Let Lucien bleed out in the middle of the livin’ room?"

"How about not putting yourself in a dangerous situation while recovering from being nearly dead?" Azriel hissed at her, finally turning around to face her. Her arms dropped from her chest at the crazed look in his hazel eyes. They were not the cool, friendly eyes she had grown to know or care about but a diabolical version of darkness and rage, the real Spymaster underneath the mask. "How about alerting me the moment something feels off?"

"I didn't know what was goin’ on," Sam tried to keep her voice neutral, but even she knew she couldn't keep it up for long, not by the tone of Azriel’s voice. "I heard bangin' and knew I needed to defend myself and the house, so I did." She shrugged her shoulders, her arms following suit. “I’m fine, we’re fine, everythin’ is fine.”

"So you admit to putting yourself in danger without thinking of what could have happened?" He asked another rhetorical question. They both knew the answer to that.

"I defended myself," Sam repeated, crossing her arms again, her eyes narrowing at him at the implications he was throwing her way regardless of how warranted they were. "I will not be chastised for it."

"You sated your curiosity is what you did," Azriel replied, standing tall before her while his wings resisted the urge to expand behind him. "You couldn't have just stayed in here and sent for help, could you? No, you had to risk-"

"I will not be a sittin' duck, Azriel. You got me fucked up if you think I would just sit and wait for help." Her voice began to rise because how dare he? She was not a damsel in distress. "I could have been in more danger if I hadn't moved! I did what I thought was right!"

"By putting yourself in danger!"

"I wasn't in danger!"

"You didn't know that!" He yelled back at her, and Sam flinched at the sound. He had never yelled at her before, never been so damn angry at her like this that, at first, she didn't know how to respond. "You didn't know what awaited you beyond this door!" His hand slapped the closed bedroom door, causing the sound to ripple through the tense air between them. "You could have been killed!"

"The Townhouse recognized Lucien! It wouldn't have let him or Tamlin in if it didn't!" She argued back.

"I don't give a damn if the house recognized me! You do not leave this room if something like that ever happens again!"

"I will not sit on my ass and look pretty if somethin' like this were to happen!" Sam yelled, taking a half step closer to the irate Illyrian. Her hands began speaking for her, and she moved them violently through the air to punctuate what she was saying. "I am not defenseless, nor will I be a prisoner in my own damn home!"

"You are recovering from nearly fucking dying, Sam!"

"And I'm still fuckin' alive, so clearly it didn't stick!" She snapped back at him, taking a step closer to him. Her southern accent was beginning to get thicker, words becoming elongated or running together as she argued with Azriel. "I can protect myself, and obviously, the situation didn't need it because I am fine!"

Azriel's snarl at her sarcasm let her know she was hitting on nerves that didn't need to be struck. He stalked closer to her, his voice dropping lower, "You are recovering and putting more strain on your body and heart by putting yourself in that situation without thinking, without knowing what was waiting for you down the hall. What would have happened if it wasn't Lucien?"

"Easy. I woulda shot that motherfucka." Sam replied so coolly like it was the easiest thing to take a life in the world. She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, her hip cocking out as her body language changed to smug satisfaction.

"And if they had gotten to you first?" His voice began to shake with barely controlled rage, wings wanting to snap out in intimidation so badly, but he held them back with whatever restraint he had left. It was written all over his face, held beneath his shaking exterior by his tense muscles. Azriel was reaching his breaking point, and Sam was being stupid by continuing to press her luck.

"Then I would've gone down swingin', protectin' myself, my home, and this Court because that is who I am, and that is what I have sworn to do!" Sam replied, her face turning an alarming red shade as her anger matched his. "Y'all ain't trainin' me for nothin'!"

"And you nearly died from that training!"

"I broke my damn nose by clotheslinin' myself! It was my fault!"

"And nearly bled to death!"

"But I didn't! Get over it!"

"You almost did! Godsdamn it, Sam, you're not getting it, are you? You won't fucking get it!" Azriel gripped the strands of his hair so tightly that he seemed determined to rip them out. "You're not understanding the danger you put yourself in, the threats in this world that could have been on the other side of that door!"

"Lucien wasn't a threat! It didn't happen like that!"

"But it could have! It fucking could have!" Azriel snarled at her, his hands letting go of his hair. Sam was blown away at hearing Azriel curse so much, hardly ever hearing such words uttered from him, let alone nearly screamed. "I told you that I already deemed him a threat until proven otherwise, which has remained unchanged. He put you in danger! He put us all in danger by bringing Tamlin here, into Velaris! Into a house that you were alone in!"

"If my safety was such a concern of yours, why was I left alone in the house to begin with?" Sam's sarcasm dripped from every word, and she admitted it had a mocking tone. The sudden shift in the air and the tense silence had Sam biting her lip. A bucket of ice water poured straight down her spine as Azriel’s expression completely changed.

She...should not have said that.

Azriel rushed toward her, and Sam backed up just as quickly to put space back between them. It was useless; his long legs ate up the distance within seconds, and Sam found her back pressed against the opposite wall and staring straight up into the eyes of a furious Spymaster who had had enough of her shit.

He caged her in against the wall, his hands flat against the surface on either side of her head. His wings flared behind him, opening to create an onyx wall, and his shadows swirled angrily around his body. They almost looked like they were fighting each other as Azriel's sharp, cold eyes continued to bore holes into her. She sucked in the air like she was drowning, her body turning warm at the intense look he was giving her. Azriel, on any other day, was beyond beautiful but pissed off. Azriel was a force to behold, stealing the air she was trying to breathe.

His brows were pinched together, and his lips were thin, tightening around his words as if they were being forced from him. "I have not left your side since Cassian told me what happened, except when he and Nesta were here yesterday afternoon." His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and Sam hoped to whoever Higher power was listening that he didn’t scent her. "I had just been called away minutes before Lucien showed up on the doorstep because I have been neglecting my duties within the Night Court. Do not think for one moment that I would leave you unprotected, that I would leave you willingly while you were hurt. If it hadn't been for those shadows that came to me…” He paused to inhale again, and when he opened his eyes, his pupils were blown - wild-like. "I was alerted when I landed at the Court of Nightmares and immediately returned here. I returned to you. I left Rhys and Mor standing at the entrance without a word to return to you."

Sam's wide-eyed gaze flickered between Azriel's eyes, watching his inner turmoil swirl within those deep amber irises. She instinctively licked her lips, Azriel marking the movement and pressing his body closer to hers. Her heaving breasts brushed against the siphon gleaming from the middle of his chest as she swallowed thickly.

He continued, leaning closer toward her as his voice dropped lower and lower, a shiver running along her skin at the danger it promised. "So imagine my surprise when I return to find you on the ground, covered in blood, surrounded by Lucien and Tamlin."

"I helped save his life," Sam whispered, the back of her skull pressed against the wall as far as it could go. "That's all."

"I would have rather you let him sort it out himself or die before getting yourself involved." He snapped, and despite the small gasp that left her, she could see that he meant every word. He would rather have Lucien die on the doorstep than have her help him if it meant her safety.

"He saved my life, I couldn't allow him to die."

"Tamlin was with him. Let him save himself."

"He has my loyalty!"

"Your loyalty is to the Night Court!"

"Which he is a part of!"

"He is an Autumn Court runaway loyal to the Spring Court if Tamlin being here is any indication to you."

"He was a fuckin' mess, Az. I had Tamlin at gunpoint while Lucien bled out!"

"You should have just shot him."

"And cause a war because I didn't think it through?"

"You didn't think any of it through! That’s the problem!" His arms were shaking, his words sliding from between his clenched teeth. Sam put her hands on his chest, readying to push him back from her if need be but praying she didn’t have to. “You didn’t think a damn thing through!”

"I secured the house when I thought I was under attack. I saved Lucien's life, and I will not feel guilty for that!"

"If it means your life or your safety, I don't give a fuck who dies." Azriel's face was so close to hers that they breathed in each other's air. Sam couldn't help but look down at his lips before returning to his dark glare. "This entire world could burn in the pits of Hell if it means you are safe if it means you are alive."

Sam blinked at his words, caught off guard at the honesty underneath his crippling rage. "Az, I need you to take a breath." Reality began to settle into Sam, and while she didn't believe she was in danger, with the way Azriel looked at her and how he was acting, she thought he may be a danger to himself.

Azriel scanned her face, his eyes roaming over every curve and edge of her features, drinking in her entire being. "I...we almost lost you, Sam. I haven’t been able to think straight for days, and the next time I see you, you're covered in blood- "

His voice was barely above a whisper, pure agony radiating off of his words, and a fist clenched around Sam's heart at hearing it. He cut himself off, stopping mid-sentence to squeeze his eyes shut and take Sam's requested breath.

“I'm okay, Az. I'm sorry; I didn't mean..." Sam whispered back to him, his hands coming to cup his neck, their foreheads resting against each other. "I'm still alive; I'm okay.”

He kept his eyes closed as he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer to her, his nose running along the bridge of hers. She unconsciously licked her lips, tilting her head to gently bump her nose against his in return. His breath tickled her lips, igniting a flame in her belly that had her yearning for more.

"You have gotten under my skin so deep that I cannot escape you." Azriel’s breath fanned across her face, shivers running along her skin as his shadows kissed the goosebumps along her arms.

When he reopened his eyes, their gaze locked. Sam was mesmerized by the inferno blazing within them, sending a thrill shooting through her spine. White hot desire scorched its way down her body, pooling between her legs, her thighs clenching together tightly as Azriel took a shuddering inhale.

Sam thought she was going to die with anticipation, thought that if he didn't kiss her right now, she would turn into a pile of smoldering ash on the floor beneath them. She felt the urge, the need, to pull him as close as possible toward her with a wild intensity that caused a moment of panic. It pulsed beneath her skin, a current of energy flowing between them that electrified the air as they moved toward each other.

His hands left the wall to tangle his fingers within the strands of her hair, holding her still just an inch away from where she wanted to be. His head tilted to the side, slowly pulling her closer, so close that Sam held her breath. She could feel the skin of his lips against hers; the lightest of pressure or the barest purse of the lips would have them flush against hers. She felt his hips pin hers against the wall, and as the gasp escaped her, she felt her lips brush against his again.

Please, please, please.

Sam closed her eyes at the tingling feeling buzzing in the space between them. Azriel was about to kiss her, and it would take a second longer.

Suddenly, she felt Azriel tense, going as still as a statue, and Sam knew what was happening. Rhys had interrupted the moment, speaking to him in his mind. The hand in her hair tightened briefly, causing Sam to involuntarily groan before untangling itself from her strands. Sam tried not to let her disappointment show as Azriel opened his eyes to stare deep into her green eyes. He ran his knuckles along her cheek in a gentle caress, contrasting their earlier argument.

A whole conversation between them without ever saying a word.

"You were...recovering on the day of your birthday," Azriel whispered to her as he slowly pulled himself from her. To Sam, it looked like it took him great effort to achieve it, as his face turned into a grimace when her expression fell. She felt the same, already missing the warmth of his person so close to hers.

The shadows spun around a small stack of boxes on a small table in the middle of the room. "We didn't plan anything extravagant because you were healing...but," he looked towards the stack of birthday presents. Cassian, Elain, Nesta, and I took the liberty of ensuring you had something to open.

Sam pushed herself off the wall, her body still vibrating with the lingering energy left between them. She swallowed, turning to the boxes and then back to him, “Y’all didn’t have to.”

"Yes, we did," Azriel replied simply, both feeling awkward now that the moment had passed but still not ready to leave. I have to take care of the Vallahan soldier in Spring. I...will see you when I return."

Sam went to say something when he suddenly disappeared, leaving her alone with the small pile of birthday gifts, a lingering shadow, and a flustered body.

-x-

After a much-needed shower, where she scrubbed away the residue of blood from her skin and relieved herself of the heat that had pooled in her lower abdomen, she threw on a pair of leggings and a sweater to leave the Townhouse. With a lingering look at the stack of gifts, she strapped her gun to the band of her leggings, pulled on her combat boots, and grabbed a thick coat as she left her bedroom.

Someone had fixed the entrance, and there was no more splintered wood or shattered glass littering the floor. All evidence of Lucien's traumatic night had been erased as if it had never happened. This caused Sam to stop short, her eyes locked on the couch in the sitting room that had just been blood-clogged hours before. It was still late morning, the sun not even close to rising to signal a new day, and the snow had continued to fall during the night, leaving the sidewalks slick and treacherous.

Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the door, determined to see Lucien while the night's events were still fresh and get the answers she knew were being hidden. Maybe a part of her wanted to ignore the moment she had with Azriel, not wanting to process what it meant and how it would change their relationship if it had gone any further. Was she willing to risk such a heartbreak?

She would leave...eventually. Then where would they be? Was the possibility worth exploring, or should she stop it before it began. Would she always wonder what could have been or be thankful for what she did have with him?

“Going somewhere?”

Sam jumped, turning to the dining room, where an outline of large wings stood out against the dim moonlight seeping through the window behind them. Cassian waved a hand, and the candles flickered to life around them. Suddenly, Sam felt like a teenager again, trying to sneak out of the house to see her boyfriend.

"A little late for a stroll, wouldn't you say?" Cassian asked, raising an eyebrow and sipping from a glass he held. "Kind of cold out there, too."

“Why are you sittin’ in the dark?” Sam sighed, closing her eyes and tilting her head towards the ceiling.

“Because I can,” Cassian settled back against his chair. “Where are we going, Sammi?”

Sam trudged towards the dining room and plopped herself in the chair next to him. She took his glass of whiskey from him and sipped from the crystal cup, allowing the liquid to burn down her throat. Given the circumstances and how close they have gotten, she decided to be honest with him. Cassian deserved that. “Look, I know that you know that Lucien and Tamlin lied straight through their teeth to Rhysand about what he was doin’ in Spring. I’m sure Rhys knows it too. The whole story, the whole thing, was bullshit. I want to know why, why he lied, and why he felt the need to.”

Cassian swiped his whiskey back, “And you think he’ll tell you?”

"Maybe, but I also want to check on him." Sam picked at the cuticles of her nails, ignoring the thoughts that kept trying to pass through her head. Was Azriel okay? Was he thinking about their near kiss, too? Would he be jealous of her going to see Lucien at four in the morning? "Lucien means a lot to me, Cass, and I can't help but be worried. For such an eventful night, his short story was anticlimactic at best. He didn't even try to make it sound good.”

“Yes, I agree that he was lying, but Azriel and possibly my own mate would skin me alive if he knew that I took you to Lucien’s apartment where Tamlin is currently residing.”

"Then don't take me," Sam replied, stealing his glass again to take another long sip. "He's going to know I went anyway, and I know he's going to be upset-"

“He's going to be pissed, Sam, and you know it, but he knows he can't control you. You can do what you want, but I will emphasize that it should be done within reason.” Cassian snatched his glass back again, mumbling about getting Sam her own glass.

“I mean, it is kinda takin’ another task off his plate...he won’t have to use his resources to figure out the truth.” Sam shrugged, sitting back with her arms crossed.

“You females and justifying yourselves...it never ceases to amaze me.” Cassian shook his head and ran a hand down his face. “I’ll at least accompany you down to the marketplace. Tamlin and Lucien would likely sense my presence near the building, and I'll wait for you until you're done.” He stood, adjusting his leathers and taking another pull from the crystal glass.

“You don't have to, Cass; it's freezing out there," Sam replied, watching him move around from her seat.

“I grew up in colder and,” Cassian swirled the dark amber liquid in the glass. “...we’re all still shaken about how close you came to dying on us, so it would make me feel better to walk with you.”

“I’m sorry, Cassian. I won’t purposely do it again, I promise.” Sam told him quietly as the guilt found her again. “Like I said, I just...felt the need to be punished for my outburst, and I wasn't thinkin' completely straight."

Cassian held out the glass toward her with the remaining liquor in it, and Sam took it, sipping soundlessly as she waited for him to speak, “I forgive you, Sam, but seeing you tonight...covered in blood, my first reaction…” He let out a harsh breath at the memory of it. “I’m glad you’re okay, Sammi. I’m glad it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“Yeah, me too.” Sam set the empty glass on the table and slowly rose from her seat. "I'll let you take revenge on me when I'm cleared for training again."

“Madja told Rhys that you should be cleared by the end of the week,” Cassian waved his hand, and the empty glass and bottle disappeared from the table. “I've had a few days to think about it, and I can't wait to put you through some obstacle courses.”

Sam rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back in, "So if I have to get to the apartment without you, how would one find it?” She spied the shadow swirling around the corner of the room as if it was waiting for them to begin moving. Cassian caught her eye and snickered, moving towards the shadow and swatting at it like a cat playing with a mouse.

“What apartment? You mean the one that sits near the Sidra behind the marketplace?" Cassian wondered aloud, tapping his chin with his forefinger, causing Sam to grin. "You mean the one that is at 627 Starlit Avenue? Apartment E, that one? No, I’m not sure how you’ll find it, really. It’s kind of tucked back behind that row of shops we went Solstice shopping at.”

“That may be it, but I'm not sure. I guess I'll get an early mornin' start of shoppin' for breakfast, ya know? I'll have to make biscuits and gravy when we get back in a few hours and open belated birthday presents.”

Cassian smirked, "I'll take the bribe, but only for you." Cassian held the front door open for Sam, wide enough for them both to slip through.

Sam thanked him as he closed the door and walked down the steps to the landing. Cassian held his arm out for her in case she needed it as they descended the cobblestone street.

Velaris was still, silent. The fresh snowfall swallowed up the sounds of the rare citizens making the trek toward the marketplace for early morning shopping or setting up. She kept her feet under her the best she could, sliding around icy corners and flailing her arms to keep her balance. Holding back his boisterous laughter, Cassian had to catch her twice before she fell into a snowdrift face first.

She tried not to look at the shadow that followed them, knowing that what she was doing was likely already being told to Azriel. With him dealing with the soldier in Spring, it would give her a few hours to do the leg work of getting Lucien to talk to her. Having Cassian with her was a good idea, even if she felt like she was sneaking around Azriel to do it.

After ten minutes of walking through the snow and ice around the marketplace, she found herself on the street Lucien's apartment was on. Finding the building was a little more complicated than she thought as the snow continued to fall and her shivering began to take hold. Winter nights in the Night Court were not for Sam. Her southern blood was not used to these temperatures, and the once wonder-struck sight of snow diminished quickly when the wretched cold slush didn’t disappear the next day.

“This is where I will leave you," Cassian said as he stopped across the street from the building. "I'll be in the coffee shop we just passed and wait for you there. Find out what you can do; maybe Azriel won't kill us both. It better be good gossip.”

Sam nodded and quickly crossed the street. Out of habit, she looked both ways, half expecting cars to speed down the road, but not even a horse and buggy came clambering by. She quietly crept up the staircase toward Lucien’s apartment, eyes landing on the worn wooden door of apartment E. She leaned in to hear soft speaking through the door, indicating they were still awake. So, she racked her knuckles against the wood, covering the peephole with her other hand so he couldn’t see, forcing him to open the door

Silence suddenly fell inside the apartment as she knocked again.

After a few tense moments, the door carefully opened, and red hair flashed into her line of sight. Once she saw the golden mechanical eye peer out at her from between the crack of the door, she shoved it open and pushed past him before he could react. She got lucky. Lucien could have easily stopped her if he had a moment to think about it or turned her into barbecue with his power.

“What th-Sam? What the hell are you doing here? It's nearly five in the morning!”

Sam walked straight into the spacious living room, ignoring Lucien’s protests and spying on Tamlin resting on the couch, looking tired and worn down. His eyes widened when he saw her, and she whirled immediately toward Lucien, who had followed her into the room, confused and concerned at her sudden presence in his home.

She narrowed her eyes at him, walking the few steps to smack the back of his head as hard as she dared.

“Ow! What was that for?” Lucien’s eyes narrowed at her as he rubbed the back of his head with an upturned lip, a cross between a snarl and a grimace

“That’s for almost gettin’ yourself killed!” Sam smacked the back of his head again, Lucien missing her arm to bat her away. “And that’s for allowin’ Rhys to twist it to his favor!”

Lucien held the back of his head as he grumbled, and Sam heard the distinct cover-up of a laugh with a cough from behind her. "Stop hitting me, you crazed female; it's not like that!”

“For someone as skilled with words as you are, you sure did walk right into his trap!" Sam replied, cocking a hip and crossing her arms. "Jesus Christ, Lucien, you didn’t even try to sound convincin’!”

"I don't know who Jesus is, but I doubt he has anything to do with me."

Sam rolled her eyes as she walked to the tiny kitchen attached to the living room. "You tell me that you'll be gone for a week, go all the way behind Jesus's back to the Spring Court, go missin’ for three weeks only to return nearly dead and bleedin’ out all over the couch! Apologies for being worried. And angry about it!"

“Is this a lover's quarrel? Should I go?" Tamlin asked, sitting up on the couch and motioning to leave the room.

Lucien grumbled something that caused Tamlin to snort behind her, and she whirled around again, glaring angrily at the blond male. “You ain’t immune to my anger either, High Lord! I got some choice words for you!”

Tamlin raised his hands, “I helped him!”

“Exactly! You’re guilty by association! You think you can just waltz in, save his life, and all would be forgiven? I got some news for you, pal, it don’t work like that!” Sam accused while opening the cabinets and fridge in the kitchen. “...you’re givin’ me nothin’ to work with.” Sam looked at the bare minimum of food options.

"It's probably all spoiled." Lucien sighed as he sat at the small, wobbling table between the living room and the kitchen. He pinched the bridge of his nose, likely realizing that his night would only continue and that the opportunity to rest was fading with every passing moment.

"Lucky for y'all, I can make somethin' outta nothin'," Sam mumbled under her breath, but she knew they heard her with their advanced hearing. As she pulled out ingredients that stood half a chance of turning into something, she spoke to them over her shoulder, “While I make food, you can explain to me the real reason you were gone for three weeks.”

“You already know the reason-”

“No, I know what you told Rhys. Don't lie to me, Lucien," Sam glared at him, gripping a wooden spoon tightly in her fist. “We’re long past that.”

“Sam…”

Sam turned and crossed her arms again, giving them both a look that bordered on a dare. She knew they were over five hundred years old, stronger, faster, and a hell of a lot smarter than she was, but she wouldn't be in the dark any longer. She was angry that Lucien felt the need to lie to her, and lie to Rhys, even if Rhys was lying by omission to her.

“I will smack the shit outta you with this spoon, Lucien, don’t test me. You lied to Rhys; you lied to me. I trust you, Lucien, but you're actin' real fuckin' sketchy right now, and I wanna know why.” Sam pointed the wooden spoon in Lucien's direction. "So what we're fixin' to do is have a nice, little chat about what you really got goin' on, and you ain’t gonna lie about it.”

Tamlin watched the exchange with an expression mixed between amusement and bewilderment. If Sam was honest, a thirty-one-year-old human female speaking to a five-hundred-and-something fae male that way was likely comical. Lucien held Sam’s gaze, a battle of who would fold first. Sam cocked her hip again, raised her eyebrow, and settled in for the long haul until Lucien threw his hands up, conceding.

“Fine! Blasted Cauldron, fine!”

Sam hid her triumphant smirk by returning to the bag of rice she pulled from the cabinet as Lucien began to explain. "I went to the Mortal Lands to visit some friends, Vassa and Jurian; that’s why I was gone for so long.”

Sam blinked and turned her head towards him, still messing with ingredients and pots, “Jurian…? The guy who had his eye in a ring during Amarantha?”

Lucien flinched at the less-than-subtle question but nodded nonetheless. "They can be trusted, but I went to them to inquire for information."

"What information?" Sam sniffed some milk to see if it was good. Deciding that it was, she set it on the counter to use while she pulled out some eggs.

“Information about any rifts opening in the past...before you and since you.”

Sam turned to him, her eyes glancing at Tamlin, who was already watching her. "And?"

Lucien sighed, “There was an incident about thirty years ago.”

Sam's blood ran cold, and she turned back around, busying herself with making breakfast for them. "What happened?"

"We don't know much, but what we do know comes from Jurian. During Amarantha's reign, he was locked inside that ring, forced to endure every second of every day of her life. He remembers hearing a situation out of Vallahan, a rift so big that it nearly crumbled the Royal Lands, as they call them. Two objects were used, but...a part of it went missing after the rift disappeared, and another part was broken. He’s not sure what it was or where it went, but he's willing to look into it."

“You don’t think that’s information Rhys could use? Amren?” Sam asked, turning to him while she whisked some eggs in a bowl. "Why did you feel the need to not only lie about your whereabouts but also lie about the information you have? Lucien, they should know; this is important.”

"My guess is that Rhysand already knows, given that he was Amarantha's second in command," Tamlin said, turning his attention out the window. "A lot happened Under the Mountain, and depending on who tells the story, the details change."

Sam took a moment to look down at the cooking rice, "Respectfully, Tamlin and I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but...I'm sure there will always be conflictin' stories. History is told by the victors and not always with facts.” She put butter in a pan as it heated to temperature and took the pot of rice off the burner to cool. "Rhys knows much more than even I know and what he's sharin'. He's also seemed to have resigned to the fact that I will be here far longer than I originally thought."

"What do you mean?" Lucien asked, setting his elbows on the table and watching her as she cooked.

“No, you go first. I’ll explain second. Keep goin’.” Sam added some cinnamon to the batter she was making when Lucien sighed.

“I didn't want to go to Rhysand with half information, but I also didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. I wanted to wait until Jurian told me what he could find out. It's still hard to trust Rhysand after centuries of being told opposing stories, even if the information I am collecting is about helping you." Lucien told her, and Sam understood to a point. "Tamlin and I were securing the Spring trade routes from the human lands, trying to clear them so the citizens of Spring had easier access to the east coast ports.”

“Lucien has been coming down to Spring, whether I wanted him to or not, to help the restoration process. We still have some creature problems, but they are not as severe as they have been made out to be. In the months retained in my beast form, I had rid a lot of the land of the hordes." Tamlin supplied the information easily, and Sam felt grateful. She wasn't sure if it was Lucien's doing or how he could get around the contracts about sharing information about her with him, but she appreciated being able to connect the dots.

“The Spring Court is beginning to thrive again,” Lucien said, “Now that we opened the trade route back up, Spring goods should be making their way through Summer and up towards the Night Court.”

“Perhaps offer a trade deal with Rhys," Sam said, looking toward Tamlin. The expression on his face reminded Sam of someone smelling gym socks. "You want him to buy into y'all's story of venturing into the human lands, restore the trust between y'all after this shit, and also havin' an excuse to visit Spring to help clean it up and get to the human lands? Offer a trade deal. It covers bases, gives you excuses and reasons to leave Night, and generates revenue to Spring and strengthen the economy.”

“Since when are you an economist?" Lucien asked, sitting back and narrowing his eyes to her.

“I'm far from it," Sam replied, pouring some batter into the buttered pan. "But I've been reading up on laws and lookin' into trade routes and shit, look, we're getting' off-topic. You keep goin'."

Lucien held his tongue to watch her, eyeing her in suspicion before folding again, "We wanted to check the Autumn borders, and we were already near the east coast ports when we got a message about soldiers about to make landfall.”

“A message?” Sam asked, adding the rice to the batter.

“My brother," Lucien responded quietly as if the answer was delicate and forbidden. “Eris sent word.”

Sam sighed heavily. Eris and the Autumn Court. No matter how many arguments she got into, how many leads she tried to uncover, or conversations about her situation she had – Eris and the Autumn Court seemed to be at the heart of the matter.

It continued to solidify that she would need to make a trip into Autumn territory.

"I love my brother even if I do not always like him," Lucien said. I do not always agree with him or what he does, but…"

“He’s your brother,” Sam understood what he was trying to say.

"It should be considered suicide to try and sail during our winter, but they likely have been traveling for a while since the first branch of scouts were spotted. They likely figured Spring would be an easy access point into Prythian given the lack of information coming out of the Court.”

"For good reason," Tamlin replied from behind her. "The less people know about what is happening in my Court, the less control they can try to exert over me. I've given enough, and enough has been taken from me."

Lucien sighed and moved in his seat; the screeching of the chair legs scraping against the floorboards met Sam's ears as she flipped a rice pancake. "Once they realized the Autumn borders were locked down, they began investigating Spring, ransacking villages, and destroying homes. We couldn't stand for it,"

"So we killed them," Tamlin said with absolutely no remorse for it. Sam agreed with and backed him on that – she wouldn't feel bad about it if she were in his position.

“So, that’s how you got hurt?” She asked as she flipped a few pancakes and quickly scrambled some eggs.

“They had ash bolts and ash arrows poisoned with faebane, swords dipped in it - “

“Faebane?”

“It's a chemical compound; it stops our healing and stifles our powers; ash wood and faebane can be fatal to us...giving our enemies just enough time to make a killing blow without us standing a chance to defend ourselves. They learned from Hybern." Lucien grumbled, a tinge of agony and resentment lacing his words. "One of the vials you brought into the living room was actually an antidote.”

Sam shuddered, refusing to think of what faebane could do to them. She tried her best to ignore the sudden fear seizing her at the thought of Azriel becoming injured with faebane and what might happen. She couldn't bear to think about it, couldn’t stomach it.

“I made a risky judgment, and...well," Lucien didn't have to continue because what came about was obvious.

Sam let the silence settle over them as she plated their food, rice pancakes and scrambled eggs with cheese. She brought the plates to the table, setting one in front of Lucien and one in front of an empty chair.

"You," Sam nodded at Tamlin and then down to the plate. "Come and eat."

Tamlin blinked and turned to Lucien. Lucien grinned and kicked the chair out for him, grabbing his silverware and beginning to dig into his own plate. "She likes to cook."

"It's how I show love," Sam replied, getting her a smaller plate with less food and bringing it to the table with a half bottle of syrup. "In the South, food is a love language. Most important conversations happen around a dinin' table or at a backyard cookout. It's also hospitality and respect. I never liked going to bed with an empty belly, and I'll make sure the ones around me never will." Sam looked up at Tamlin, who was still sitting on the couch, watching her with wide eyes. "So...come and eat, High Lord. It's not the best thing I've ever made, but it will do."

"It's incredible, and you need to try her cheeseburgers." Lucien almost moaned at the thought as he speared a piece of pancake covered in syrup.

“You and those cheeseburgers.” Sam laughed as she sat down. “I swear, you’re gonna turn into a cheeseburger.”

Tamlin walked over to the table as Lucien and Sam discussed cheeseburgers and onion rings. Sam pretended to be oblivious as he slowly cut into the food and tasted it. She continued to speak to Lucien animatedly about different dishes she'd made since he'd been gone to Spring and catch him up on what he missed. She tried not to feel prideful as Tamlin began to eat eagerly, as if he hadn't had a proper meal in a very long time. A part of her hurt at the thought that it was possible he hadn't, and if she had her way, she would make sure he ate his weight in food before he left Velaris. However, with the low supply of food in Lucien's pantry, that would not happen.

Sam had already decided to tell Rhysand everything Lucien had told her, and she was sure Lucien knew she would. She was more obligated to tell him than Lucien was. While it didn't fall under 'information concerning her,' it was tied to it, and perhaps that was the loophole he exploited. Sam didn't think too hard about it, knowing she would get lost in the details of a faerie bargain she made under duress.

If the thought of owing a human a debt bothered either of them, they never mentioned it, and Sam never brought it up. She knew what it meant for them and would do her best to never have to call it in, content to let it stand as it was.

For the next hour, Sam got to know Tamlin and saw Lucien relax, the tension releasing from his shoulders. Tamlin opened up to her, not much, but enough to tell stories of long ago and tales of the Spring Court. She wondered how long it had been since Lucien last laughed as carefree as he was, grinning at the stories and offering his version of events when Tamlin omitted a few details.

In another life, Tamlin and Lucien were brothers. In this life, it was clear that they were as good as brothers, even if they weren’t linked by blood. Their relationship reminded Sam of Melissa and Josh, how close she was to them, how she loved and missed them, and how she was trying to get back to them.

The family you make is just as important and sometimes more important than the blood family you have. Sam was making her chosen family in this world; she had to. It wasn't that she didn't love and miss Melissa and Josh; she did, but they weren't here.

These fae were. Maybe not all of them, but Cassian, Nesta, Lucien, Elain, and Azriel were all there for her, comforted her, helped her, and believed in her. Rhys, Feyre, and Carys welcomed her, listened to her, and took her under their wings, metaphorically speaking.

So Sam sat back, enjoying this small moment of peace between Lucien, Tamlin, and herself. She told a few stories, too, always waiting for the bargain tattoos to burn in warning, but they never did. Lucien told Tamlin of how he and Sam first met, Tamlin asking her questions, and an expressed wish to visit Spring one day that was granted. A sarcastic quip by Lucien about Tamlin not wanting to get involved in Sam's situation had Tamlin taking a page out of Sam's book and smacking Lucien in the back of the head. Sam nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

By seven in the morning, Sam knew she was pressing her luck and needed to return to the Townhouse. She hugged Lucien and promised to check on him in the coming days. Before she left Lucien's flat, she also gave Tamlin one, wishing him safe travels back to Spring.

Standing underneath the overcast morning sky, Sam stood silently, taking it all in and breathing in the cool air. The moment she walked towards the coffee shop Cassian was waiting for her at, she spied the shadows twirling around her ankles. Her mind spun with information, and the stories Tamlin and Lucien had told her.

Cassian stood when she entered the shop and walked toward her with a lid-covered cup of steaming liquid. "Got what you came for?" he asked.

Sam nodded after taking a sip of what was the most delicious hot chocolate she had ever had, “I did,”

Cassian held the door open for her again so they could leave and return to the Townhouse. Cass kept looking down at her, catching her waist when she slipped on a patch of ice, too lost in her thoughts to pay attention to where she was going.

“Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Huh?” Sam looked up at him, holding the cup of hot liquid between her hands to keep them warm. “I’m good.”

"No, you're not. You're lost up here." Cassian tapped her head as they left a quieter street, away from the marketplace. "What's going on?"

Oh, nothing, you know. One of my best friends shows up half dead on the doorstep, I almost make out with your brother and have to take care of my business afterward, and then spent about two hours talkin’ with ‘almost half dead best friend’ and his best friend about shit that I don’t even think I want to know the answer to and it’s only seven in the mornin’. So, you know, nothin’, I’m good.

“What do you know about the Suriel?”

Tag List: @smol-grandpa, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @plants-w0rld, @rcarbo1

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trilobitepunch · 11 months ago

Text

In Essence, the Behavior of Siblings

The Grounds were more than what the simple name implied. Formally it was known as Ma no Michi, or "The Way Between," but over time it had been considerably nicknamed and shortened for the common ground that it was.

It was a small town that stretched between two worn torii for less than two miles. The structures that flanked either side of the street were of wood and looked much like a typical town, interspersed with market stalls and a general busyness that gave the place an overall constant festival atmosphere.

The strangest thing about the place was that it was entirely populated by yōkai; merchants, residents and most of those passing through. Indeed, there at times could be seen actual humans amongst the visitors, a rarity to be sure, but there were some whom yōkai had been able to trust, and having this link helped them, especially those who only wished to live peacefully in a land where human influence continued to grow.

Not any human could enter the Grounds. Most avoided the torii path, rumors that some unwitting wanderers vanished once passing beneath the flaking red gates. Others said that there was nothing on the other side, just as empty a stretch of road as what one perceived from before and beyond, but it was an unsettling stillness that plagued them until they reached the opposite gateway. They had no 'key' to truly open the way.

"You all have your omamori?" Yoshi asked, turning towards his unusual sons as they drew closer to the torii. A chorus of confirmations came and he smiled before turning, tucking away his own charm into his sleeve.

The sensation was a bit disorienting when you possessed a 'key' and stepped through. The world beyond the torii was full of life and sound as one would expect upon entering a town. Leaving was just as strange, releasing a person back into the stillness of an otherwise empty roadway.

Sannan disliked passing through the gates. Yoshi always waited until his second youngest came through, always last, shoulders hunched up in preparation, shuddering once he had stepped through and flicking his tail as though to fully disperse the feeling. He claimed it felt like something crawling over him. Jinan told him he was just crazy.

"Here we are, my sons," Yoshi said, laying a reassuring hand upon Sannan's shoulder as he guided him along after the others. He had to be quick before Yotsuo would go wandering off. "We will meet back here in an hour so that we can all get a meal together."

"Haaaai!"

"Of course, otō-sama."

"Got it, oyaji."

"We'll see you later."

Yoshi watched as the four went off with a quirk of a smile as Yotsuo abruptly went dashing off as something inevitably caught his attention. Sannan gave an exasperated sigh before he went after him. The boys enjoyed these outings, so Yoshi was more than happy to give them the opportunity to explore before they got down to business matters. As he was about to turn, he caught Chōnan's eye upon him and he paused, giving him a nod. Just because this was a place of yōkai, it didn't mean they should entirely let their guard down.

~~~

"Uuuuuwaaaa! Look at that, San-nii! It looks like ice!" Yotsuo marveled as his eyes fell upon a curious plate amongst a mismatched collection of ceramics. As annoying as it was feeling like he always somehow ended up having to watch his little brother, he didn't mind it too much. Yotsuo often tended to find the most interesting things in the marketplace.

"Don't touch it," he said as he came up beside him to see what had drawn Yotsuo's attention. "It's very delicate. Glass, I think."

"Right you are, little Hamato," chuckled the vendor, which made Sannan involuntarily tense. He didn't like that they were so identifiable, even though he knew that many who resided in the Grounds looked to the Hamato whenever trouble occurred. "Not very practical for everyday use, but it is very pretty to look at."

Yotsuo made a disappointed sound as Sannan caught his hand just before he could lift the plate's edge with a claw. "Thank you," the latter said with a bow of his head towards the vendor before guiding his all too curious brother away. He was fully prepared to counter any complaints but largely unsurprised when that familiar look passed across Yotsuo's face, a sure sign that he'd found something else to investigate. Sighing, again Sannan prepared to follow, pausing however to shoot a look towards the nearby rooftop with something of a scowl, but he wasn't long in drifting after the youngest.

~~~

From above, Jinan watched the two. He had an hour and they'd just got here, so he wasn't in any particular hurry to look around. Besides, it was funny watching Sannan get dragged about by Yotsuo, and Jinan was simply glad that it wasn't him. He ducked back against the roof with a grimace when he saw his twin turn his head right in his direction.

"Tch, how does he do that?" Jin muttered.

As his brothers wandered out of sight, Jinan turned to pick his way across the shingles before dropping down to the street.

"Oh! Where did you come from?"

The voice made him jump, and he spun around to see a peddler stooped beside her box of wares. She smiled as she removed her broad straw hat. "Ah, I have returned the favor, I see."

"-sorry, guess I should have double-checked where I was landing," Jinan murmured as he scratched the back of his head, giving an awkward sort of bow.

"No harm done. I haven't set up yet, but I did not think anyone would be passing by from above," the peddler said as she resumed pulling things from her box to set out at the stall there on the corner. He'd heard that traveling merchants were able to rent a space if they wanted, and the marketplace at the Grounds was a popular place to find unusual and interesting things. "What are you selling?" he asked.

"Incense," the peddler replied, smiling enigmatically as she set a shallow dish down, holding up a slender stick. She didn't seem particularly bothered as Jinan's expression flattened along with his equally disinterested, "Oh."

"It isn't for everyone," she admitted, continuing to put out her wares. Samples and tiny censers, small bundles of sticks. She paused in pulling more items out long enough to light one of the sticks and set it in a bowl of ash, gently blowing out the flame and leaving a wispy trail of smoke that snaked lazily in the air. Jinan caught a whiff, humming thoughtfully as she watched him almost expectantly. "It's nice, but yeah, not my thing. Good luck in your sales," he said, waving a hand as he went on his way.

~~~

"Great job, Chō. How're you supposed to keep an eye out on your brothers when you can't even find them?" the big yōkai sighed at himself. It had scarcely been two minutes and he'd somehow lost sight of all of them at once. In his distraction to catch sight of at least one of them, he'd also lost track of his dad.

"It's fine. They've all gotta be around here somewhere. This place isn't that big." He started along the main road, for that was the only way to go.

"Oh, Chō-chan! Looking for your brothers again?" an elderly yōkai greeted him with a gentle chuckle. This was hardly a first-time occurrence.

"A little. You haven't by chance seen any of them?"

"Hmm. I thought I saw the little one head towards the pottery stalls."

"Should have figured as much. Thanks, baachan," Chōnan sighed, giving a quick bow before he started in that direction.

"Ah, before you go, at least take something to nibble on. Have to keep up the energy if you're going to catch those brothers of yours," the old one cackled, holding out a red bean-filled pastry. Some of the anxiousness from Chōnan's face relaxed as he accepted it, smiling that snaggle-toothed smile of his that hadn't seemed to change despite the years. And then off he went, taking care not to completely shove the thing into his mouth.

He caught a face full of incense smoke as he rushed on by, nearly choking as he tried to save his precious bean-paste bun. His clawed hands flailed about in the air as he juggled the thing while simultaneously trying to wave away the smell before successfully managing to cradle the little pastry in his palms. An amused sort of sound caught his ear just then, and he flashed a sheepish smile at the vendor at the incense booth before he continued on his way.

~~~

"Do you like this one?"

"No."

"How about this?"

"No."

"Well I'm sure you'd approve of this one at least!"

"Not even close."

"Oh come on, San-nii! Why won't you pick any?" Yotsuo pouted, tossing his hands up before he tucked them tightly beneath his armpits in that sulky pose only a little brother scorned could pull off.

"Lack of use, for one. I think you'd definitely need hair," Sannan pointed out, having long built up an immunity to such looks as he poked a clawed fingertip at the dangling ends of a delicate kanzashi. It was a very pretty hair decoration, at least that much he would agree on.

"What about for Karai-obasan?" Yotsuo pushed, head lifting with just a touch of hopefulness. It was quickly dashed by a pragmatic shake of Sannan's own head.

"Obasama doesn't need those sorts of things. It'd just get in the way. If you really want to get her something, let's look for something useful," he suggested in order to allay his little brother's anticipated objections. It did the job of getting him to stop sulking at the very least.

"Okay! That does make sense. What do you suggest then?" Yotsuo asked, reaching out to tug his brother along. The sooner they started moving again, the sooner they might find …whatever it is they might be looking for!

"A knife is pretty useful…"

"Saaaaaaan…."

Yotsuo dropped his brother's hand as his pout returned. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at the suggestion. Sannan was pretty practical about those sorts of things, but then that did explain why Sannan usually still had something to spend later on when the rest of his brothers ended up with strange trinkets and stomachs full from snacks.

"-oh wait, what's that smell?" And off he was bounding again, as though their previous discourse hadn't occurred, another reason Sannan hadn't really worried about truly upsetting his brother. This was all rather typical, after all.

He caught up to Yotsuo at what appeared to be an incense vendor. A traveling merchant, Sannan guessed, as he by now knew most of the regulars, and there weren't many who specialized in such a thing here in the Grounds. The woman at the stall smiled amiably at the two, a humanoid yōkai so far as he could identify, the sort who could easily pass among humans without garnering suspicion. "Greetings. Do feel free to sample my wares. I have prepared them all myself," she said.

"Ohhhh, this one smells nice. You might not like it though, San. It's a little strong."

"Hn," Sannan replied, but he took a polite sniff anyway, if only to satiate his curiosity. "Sandalwood," he guessed, inwardly proud of himself when he noticed the slight lift of a brow from the merchant. She smiled wanly, nodding. "So it is," she confirmed, looking on with interest as Yotsuo instantly took this as a sign to test his brother's skill, picking up one of the incense wafers from another dish.

Ah, this one he knew well, even if it was a little overstated, but he supposed that was the point of incense. He managed not to wrinkle his snout. "Wisteria," he said, thinking of the wild grove he liked to retreat to when he wanted some space for himself.

"You are very skilled in identifying these," the merchant laughed. "You would do well at incense gatherings. Now, how about this one?" She brought up from behind the booth an incense stick that had already been lit, standing in a bowl of ash, and with a fanning of her hand, sent the wisping trail of scent towards them.

Sannan looked a little put off at the fact that the merchant seemed to be getting in on this game Yotsuo had started, but he sniffed at it all the same. He squinted, shaking his head as he snorted out a breath. Too perfumed for his tastes. "Some blend of aloeswood," he said, unable to keep from wrinkling his snout then. It didn't seem like his response had offended the merchant at least, but her attention had seemed to shift to Yotsuo at that point.

"That is the main part of it," she conceded, looking back at Sannan and somewhat startled to find him already eyeing her intently. He frowned a little, nudging Yotsuo with an elbow. "Come on, Yo-chan. If we keep stopping at everything then it'll already be time to meet back with the others."

"Huh-? O-oh!" Yotsuo blinked, shaking his head a bit before he smiled brightly at Sannan. "You're right. Um, thank you," he said as he turned his attention back to the vendor with a bow of his head. Sannan dropped a hand on his shoulder to steer him along after offering his own bow, his attention lingering just slightly longer until they were caught along in the next flow of foot traffic.

~~~

"All right, what kind of junk did you buy this time?" Jinan asked as he rested his elbows on the low table before them. He yelped as Yoshi swatted them off, straightening his posture before the man could go off about manners and this not being their house.

"Nothing," Yotsuo pouted before the words sunk in, and he shot a glare across the table at Jinan. "And it's not junk! They're just…things that don't have any immediate usefulness," he said, doing his best Sannan impression. Even Jinan had to laugh at that, as did Chōnan. Yoshi was doing his best to hide a grin behind his hand, coughing into a fist when his second youngest shot him a look.

"That's fine, it just means we have more to spend on food," Chōnan said eagerly, which surprised absolutely no one at the table.

"Only you would be able to still be hungry despite the amount of handouts you've likely accumulated." Sannan could be ruthless when he wanted to be, but his tone bore no edge, so he was clearly teasing as only he could. It really wasn't any big secret that their eldest brother was a favorite amongst the old snack and pastry artisans, and to some extent they were a bit jealous.

Yoshi waved his hands with an exasperated sigh. "Okay, okay, that's enough! You'll have time to look around again afterwards, but first, I think we could all do for something to eat." He went ahead and made a request for their food, then took up his teacup once Sannan had poured for them all. His son still disliked tea, but he felt that he was still partaking somehow by at least helping serve it.

"So, what's the job, oyaji?" Jinan asked, swirling his tea around. "Do you need us?"

Savoring his own tea, Yoshi shook his head. "Minor tsukumogami case. I might need you though, Chō. Supposedly we'll be dealing with a large, cast-iron pot."

"What a perfectly good thing to let go to waste," Sannan commented. "No wonder it's upset. Maybe it'll calm down if Jin gives it a good scrubbing."

"Oh please-"

"Actually, that isn't a bad idea. Jin, you come with us too," Yoshi decided, sipping his tea while Jinan tried to decide who to be angry at. In the end he closed his mouth as he worked out this clever trap of his twin; if he objected then Sannan would likely be voluntold for suggesting it, and then that would mean Jinan would have to accompany Yotsuo in his wild marketplace browsing. It really was a no-win situation as far as Jinan was concerned, so he grumbled something that was neither agreement nor protest and that was that.

Yoshi was however right in one thing; a good meal certainly did the trick in lightening the mood and sour spirits. At least, temporarily.

~~~

"Did you see anything you wanted to look at?" Yotsuo asked as he and Sannan once again found themselves wandering the main road.

"Not particularly," Sannan replied, even as his eyes drifted over the various stalls, seeking out guest peddlers. They often brought the most interesting things, or at least had some interesting stories to tell.

At least there was one stall they always made sure to stop by. Sho-ojiisan liked when they brought back some senbei, claiming they were the best rice crackers he'd ever had. The boys secured a box and were given an extra treat apiece, crunching on the savory sweetness as they continued their marketplace perusal.

They passed the incense seller again, and she smiled brightly as she beckoned them over with a hand.

"Are you closing shop already?" Yotsuo asked, noting that much of her wares had already been packed away.

"Oh, not just yet, but the heat is a bit much for me and the scent doesn't carry as well now that the sun is so high. Mornings are so much better for sales." She gave a small shrug. "I did wish to ask a favor of you both. Particularly you, young sir, for I'd like the opinion of your sharp nose."

Sannan frowned a little, more so as Yotsuo echoed, "Sharp nose, hehe..!" He shut his brother up with a sharp elbow. "What sort of opinion? Surely you know the scent of your own wares, so I doubt it's for identification."

"A sharp tongue and wit as well," the merchant laughed. "No, I would like to know what someone might think of a new scent I've been working on. I'm trying to get the mixture just right, and I think it's close, but I need something more." She gestured to the building behind her. "I am renting a room at the back. The screen is open, so if you wouldn't mind helping me carry these there at the very least?"

The brothers looked at each other, the smaller one smiling brightly while the other sighed. "I suppose we have time to help," Sannan conceded, Yotsuo already bouncing over to pick up some of the merchant's things.

It didn't take too long, especially when most of it was packed in the box, which Sannan picked up and was silently impressed that anyone would walk around with it on their back. The weight wasn't unmanageable, but he imagined it added quite a burden to anyone traveling distances for any amount of time. He set it down in the room, a small space suitable enough for sleeping in. Yotsuo had already invited himself to sit there at the edge while the merchant eventually joined them. She had a few bowls of what Sannan guessed were ingredients, laid out on the tatami.

"Please make yourselves comfortable. This will not take long," the merchant said as she sorted through things. "Little one, please pull that screen closed. Not all the way," she added, catching Sannan's eye. "I just don't want to dilute the fragrances too much. Here," she said as she held out one of the bowls to him.

"Aloeswood is too strong," Sannan was quick to comment after a whiff. He glanced over as Yotsuo took a sniff. "Is it supposed to be different?"

"Oh dear, I barely added any aloeswood. I was hoping it would accent the scent rather than overpower it. I thought perhaps some fresh senses would be able to pick it out," the woman frowned. "Perhaps it will blend better once it is lit. Sometimes it takes on a different characteristic. I have a sample stick."

She slipped it out, setting it in a holder before lighting the end with a flame and quickly putting it out, fanning it with her sleeve as the thin white wisp unfurled from its tip..

Both boys dutifully took a sniff. "Hn… No, the aloeswood is still prevalent," Sannan admitted, brow furrowing. "But there's…something else. Kind of bitter-smelling. I can't…"

His vision blurred and refused to clear no matter how much he blinked. This…this is… Alarm flashed in his mind, and he shot a glare at the incense maker as he lurched to his feet. They gave out from beneath him before he could even pull them into position, his vision swimming as he hit the floor, but he could barely make out the yōkai woman who had slipped on a cloth mask.

"Breathe deep, little Hamato," she said quietly as she stood over him. Sannan in fact tried to do the exact opposite, his muscles tensed but otherwise struggling to follow through with what he wanted them to do. His head felt like a lead weight as he tried to lift it, trying to push himself up. Beside him he was vaguely aware that Yotsuo had also collapsed, his brother's gaze unfocused as he lay there.

"Hm. Perhaps I did not use enough, or your resilience is just that much more impressive." Her cold tone was at odds with her words and a striking contrast to how she had spoken to them earlier. "Well, no matter. I will be done soon enough." She stepped back towards her things, picking out another slender stick of incense, which she stood in the bowl of ash and lit, placing it between the two.

Sannan couldn't even move his mouth, every muscle quivering with the effort. The scent that replaced the first was unfamiliar to him, but it reminded him of the heavy scents that hung about human temples. The smoke from it seemed thicker, suspended there as it wove itself through the air of the small room. It wreathed him and Yotsuo like some alive thing.

"You know, my brother was one of those who had answered the call and gone up to the mountain, long ago," the incense merchant said, speaking as though they were all still holding such a normal conversation. Even though his mind felt as foggy as the bluish smoke that swam about the room, Sannan recognized the sound of metal ringing, as a blade pulled from its sheath. His eyes widened into slits, his mind screaming at the rest of his body to cooperate.

"He went up," the yōkai woman continued, unaware of the boy's internal struggle. "But he did not return. As did many. I told him not to go, but he was proud. Arrogant. Weren't you, ani-ue?" She sighed, watching the smoke that came up from the incense stick as she thought of her brother. "This will reveal what I have lost. Come back to me, my brother. Come back and I will set you free from whatever has bound you to these…"

She had turned to look between them then, and Sannan tried desperately to grasp at the dots to connect the information she was imparting. The mountain…the disappearing yōkai. A sacrifice and a blood red moon...

Every muscle protested, every nerve felt like it was on fire, but Sannan felt himself moving finally. He wasn't the only one surprised, barely registering the merchant's shock through his hazy sight before he collided with her. Distantly he thought he heard the blade fall to the ground.

"How-?!" she started to exclaim, her hands closing around his shoulders to push him off, only to stop as she stared past the younger yōkai. "No… Why isn't it… But he has to be…!"

For a moment longer she stared at the stream of smoke that filled the room as though to discern some sort of secrets from it. In truth, there was nothing, nothing at all but the smoke.

His eyelids were heavy, but that stubborn part of him clung to consciousness by a thread. He felt something warm and damp soak into his hood, and he thought he heard a sob from the woman. It was with far more care than Sannan expected of her when she resumed moving him from off of her. Every touch felt like pins and needles, all his limbs felt like they weighed as much as the logs his eldest brother would help carry in preparation of the winter storms. He heard the sound of the screen being pushed open again, a breath of fresh air coming from outside, dispersing the smoke and the cloying scent of the incense.

"I am sorry…" The apology was so soft that it could have been a dream, that line of reality blurring with each second as he found it harder and harder to stay awake.

~~~

Yotsuo awoke with a gasp, pulling himself up so abruptly and instantly regretting it. "Careful, careful my son," a familiar voice said beside him, warm hands guiding his head back to the pillow he had been lying on. Yotsuo winced, the light feeling like it was stabbing at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut again with a whimper.

"I am sorry," he heard another somewhat familiar voice say. They sounded farther away, and Yotsuo felt his father's hand pause for but a moment where it had moved to stroke his head. "I used a stronger dosage because I thought… I did not realize that they were actually children…"

"They are my sons," Yoshi said, his voice carefully level as he shifted his gaze between his youngest boys. Sannan had been in and out of consciousness, his head cradled in Jinan's lap as his twin held him protectively, not bothering to hide the glares he cast in the incense merchant's direction. Chōnan sat between them and the woman, but Yoshi could tell that it was as much to keep his younger brother from doing anything irrational as it was to intimidate the other yōkai.

"I have only heard rumors. I did not know what to believe. But I had hoped that my brother…that something of him still existed. I thought that they were trapped, those souls, those yōkai who had disappeared in the mountains. And these two reacted to my special blend of incense. My brother always favored it. I thought…"

She flinched away at another glare from Jinan, and Yoshi raised his hand towards his son before he nodded at her to continue.

"...I thought his spirit might dwell in one of them. I wanted to free him, bring him home," she said sorrowfully, her head bowed. "I saw how these two cared for each other, but I thought I had come too far to abandon my brother now. …but nothing manifested in the smoke. His soul is not here." She hesitated, lifting her head to force herself to meet their eyes. She owed this much to them.

"They hold no souls of the past. It grieves me to admit it, since I do not know what has become of my brother's, but so far as I can tell, your sons are no one but themselves. Again, I am sorry," she said, prostrating herself to underline her sincerity.

Jinan glanced at Chōnan, and the two looked to Yoshi then. He had to wonder if his sons had ever thought about it before. Indeed, a small knot was loosened in his own chest that he hadn't realized had been there. Yoshi turned his own eyes back to the incense merchant, bowing his head in silent acknowledgment for what she had told them. He could not quite offer her a thank you, not after she'd threatened his sons, but this was still more than what he thought they would come away with. And still he could not allow himself to be completely at ease. If one yōkai had been so convinced that his sons might have some connection to one of those who had been used in that terrible ritual, then there could be others…

~~~

Sannan hadn't woken up until the following morning, groggy and unable to get to his feet, complaining that every movement made him feel prickly. Yotsuo was only slightly better, still subjected to dizzy spells to the point that Chōnan insisted he carry him and Sannan. While it wasn't the first night they'd spent over at the Grounds, Yoshi didn't want to stay any longer than necessary, and the boys would be more comfortable and safe back at home. He did not however look forward to having to recount what had happened.

"Aaaah…what a mess," he muttered, running a hand through his unkempt hair. He held the bundle with Sho-jiisan's senbei, leading his sons back towards the torii.

The incense merchant had left earlier than they had, her wares packed up and the little room she'd rented, completely vacated. Although they'd parted on neutral terms, Yoshi knew such news would travel, for better or worse. There would be some who wouldn't be pleased with what she had attempted. But there would be others, he suspected, who would be just as interested.

"What a mess," he repeated under his breath.

Birdsong and the buzzing of bugs replaced the morning hum of the Grounds once they passed through the gate, depositing them back on an empty roadway.

"I'm sorry, otōsama."

Yoshi stopped, turning to look over at Sannan, his second youngest curled tightly against the oldest's chest. His eyes were open at least, his senses slowly readjusting, a far-away look on his face, although Yoshi could guess that those thoughts were turned inwards. Yoshi's own expression softened.

"It was not your fault, Sannan," he said as he raised a hand to rest on his son's arm. He suppressed a frown as he saw the slim yōkai shudder under his touch. The incense maker had said the effects should wear off, the paralysis not meant to be long-term, but it had only been proven on pure-blooded yōkai. He let his hand fall away, but continued to walk beside Chōnan, Jinan flanking his brother's opposite side as he kept an eye on their surroundings. Laid back as his second oldest tended to be, Yoshi knew he could always count on him, especially when the safety of his brothers had been threatened.

Sannan had fallen silent again, not particularly reassured, but he moved his head slightly as he felt another hand slip over his own. He looked across at where Yotsuo practically nestled in the crook of Chōnan's other arm, his little brother offering a smile as only he could, one that never diminished in brightness no matter what bad things happened. Sannan took it as forgiveness for failing to keep him safe, even though he knew Yotsuo wouldn't have faulted him for any such thing. As tiring and uncomfortable as it felt to put any effort into moving, Sannan curled his webbed fingers around his brother's hand.

Yoshi smiled faintly. This was another lesson learned, and he was only thankful that nothing worse had happened. He and his boys would all return home, and while there were still some lingering concerns, that was something that they would all get through, together.

"Come, my sons. We still have a ways to go."

#rottmnt #rottmnt bbtlotm #rottmnt bound by the light of the moon #rottmnt edo au #traditional art #triloart #my weird little au #rottmnt au

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