#and I've spent the last two days in one way or another scraping up my thoughts and ideas into actual writing

[hyperfixation-tangentopia]

Y'know I said I was gonna work on some OC stuff for an ask I have sitting in my inbox (I'm so sorry I'm collecting thoughts) and then I just. Goofed off all night instead. And then my body decided to murder me and I still didn't work on anything because ow.

I am so good at this.

[abbysgolf-club]

STALKER

part 2

an abby anderson fic. wlw.

TW:: smut, mdni!!! softdom!abby, mentions of alcoholism, weight gain and reader is said to have longer hair. cunnilingus, fingering, aftercare!! use of pet names ie, sweetheart, sweet girl i literally dont think i could've made abby anymore gentle for y'all. (let me know if i've missed anything)

NO USE OF Y/N I PROMISE.

if you enjoy i'd highly appreciate likes comments and reblogs<33

READ PART 1 HERE::

It was her.

You recognised the large calloused hand as soon as it touched you. You knew it was Abby. You wriggled in her grasp; her free hand snaking around your waist to keep you in place.

"There's no point in trying to run, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk." Abby's voice spoke, a sound you hadn't heard in a good while. Her voice was smooth and calm, different from how you last heard her.

You muffled something into her hand before she finally took it away so you could speak, her hand still holding you on your waist. You let a breath out, unaware you were even holding one in.

"Why're you here? I specifically told you, stay the fuck away from me," You told her, your voice shaking slightly from the risen anxiety. Before she could respond you sighed, realising you were going to have to face her one day or another, might aswell be when she's broken into your apartment.

"Go sit on the couch, let me clean up this glass and then i'll come through.. and talk to you." You mumbled, waiting for her to let go.

"Whatever you say, sweet girl." Abby spoke breathily into your ear as she slowly removed her hands off your waist and backed up into the lounge.

Once she'd gone, you picked up the dustpan and brush and began scraping the broken glass on the floor into the dustpan, making sure there was no excess shards that could get stuck in your cats paws.

Once you cleaned up, you made your way over to the lounge. Seeing Abby sat on your couch with your cat, Garfield, on her lap made you remember the old times, when you two were still together. But you were done with that time of your life. You continued to tell yourself as you sat down next to her on the couch.

"Why'd you come back? You cheated on me, Abby." When you mentioned what happened that night, 4 months ago, Abby's face turned a pale pink colour in embarrassment for how she'd treated you. "You were manipulative, cruel, you treated me like i wasn't my own person; like you owned me." You spoke again, Abby looking at you with sorrow and guilt.

"Listen, baby.. that's what i came here to explain.. That's why i needed to find you." Abby answered, her eyes full of guilt and something else you couldn't quite lay your finger on.

You looked at her, waiting for her to begin explaining, not wanting to speak until she explained herself.

Abby sighed, leaning back on your couch, your cat still curled up in a ball on her lap as she stroked it carefully.

"That night.. is the biggest mistake i ever made. After you left, i changed. I realised i had to get better and recover. I've spent 3 months in therapy to get my drinking under control." She swallowed a thick lump in her throat before she continued to speak, "You, sweet girl, are the best thing that's ever come into my life. You are the kindest soul i've ever come across, like an angel placed on the planet for me to love and adore. All i'm asking for is one more chance. To prove i've changed. Please.." She looked at you, a look you'd never seen before. Vulnerability. She was genuinely upset. She really did love you, after all, would she have gone through therapy and found your exact location if she didn't care about you?

"Abby.. I.. I don't know what to say.." Your voice quiet, realisation hitting you that Abby did infact cherish you, she just wasn't in the best head space at that time.

"Then don't say anything, sweetheart." Abby spoke, pulling you into her lap, staring up at you sweetly. You'd gained a little bit of weight since your last encounter with Abby, but, of course that was no problem. You didn't even know if she noticed.

Abby's hands trailed along your hips to your waist and back again, before she pulled you into a loving kiss. It took you a second to realise what was happening until you melted under her touch, kissing her back softly.

"Abby.." you muttered, pulling back from the kiss, staring into her big blue-green orbs. Just as you were about to continue speaking, Abby held a finger up to your lips.

"Shh, I told you not to say anything baby, let me make it up to you for everything." With that said, she lifted you off her lap, laying you down on the couch onto your back.

"May I?" She asked, motioning to the button on your black denim shorts. You nodded reluctantly, nervous she'd judge you for your body image.

Abby smiled, unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them to your ankles, discarding them on the floor beside you.

She smiled at the slight pudge on your stomach, kissing gently at your stretch marks and down your thighs, removing your underwear as she did so. Abby's soft and sweet actions gave you butterflies; you felt a small pool between your legs.

"So wet for me already, baby?" Abby murmured, positioning her head inbetween your legs, looking up at you for permission.

"You can.. but be gentle.. please.." You asked softly, Abby smiled before looking down at the beautiful sight in front of her eyes.

Before you knew it, Abby's tongue slowly licked up between your folds, focusing on your clit. A soft gasp left your lips, causing Abby to grin as she continued slowly lapping your clit like she was starved; savouring your taste.

Your hand tangled into her neatly braided hair, you swore she never took it down and she woke up with it perfect everyday.

"Abby.." You moaned, breathlessly, Abby hummed against you, speeding her tongue up slightly, twirling it around your clit in small deliberate circles.

Abby reached her hand up, still eating you out as she slowly pushed her middle and ring finger inside you. Curling them inside to hit your spot; causing your head to fall back and moans escape your mouth.

Your grip tightened as she sped up, still keeping every movement gentle. Her free hand stroking your thigh lovingly.

Not long later, you felt your climax building up in your lower stomach, clenching your walls around Abby's fingers. Abby grinned as you clenched around her, "Cum for me, sweet girl." She said, lifting her head up to looked at your flustered, fucked-out face.

Her words sent you over the edge, coaxing her fingers and her face in your juices, Abby slurping them up like there was no tomorrow, helping you ride out your high.

Abby pulled her fingers out of you, giving one last lick to your clit; wiping her hand on her trousers and the corners of her mouth on her t-shirt.

"Let's get you cleaned up, baby. You look so pretty." She spoke, sitting up from between your legs, pulling you to sit up aswell. She grabbed the hair bobble off your wrist, tying your hair up into a small ponytail.

She then proceeded to pick you up off the couch, asking you for directions to your bathroom so you could go to the toilet.

Once she got you there, she waited outside for you to finish and then picked you up again bridal style and carried you to your bedroom, laying you down in your bed.

"Do you want anything sweetheart? Food? Water?" Abby asked you, smiling down at you in your bed.

"Water please.." You murmured, sleepily. Abby have you a peck on the forehead before travelling back downstairs to grab you a glass of cold water with ice and a straw.

"Here you go, we can't have you getting dehydrated." She smiled, walking over to you and handing you the water, before searching through your closet for some pyjamas. She found a black pair of fully pyjama pants bought them to you, helping you put them on.

Once you were dressed; Abby climbed into your bed next to you, allowing you to put your water down on your bedside table before spooning you, peppering your neck and upper back with kisses.

"Goodnight, sweet girl. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."

And that was the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep. Back in her arms, where you longed to be.

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 31) - final chapter

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the opportunity to help the females in the Night Court is now here, and the last chapter of the reader's plan concludes

warnings: none

word count: 7.1k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is the final chapter of IALTPWF (there will be an epilogue for SURE, maybe a bonus chapter or two in the future) and i'm so emotional. i've poured my heart and soul into this story for two years and it's finally over. thank you to everyone who has shown this story support, I hope that in this chapter and the epilogue to come, you are satisfied with the ending. long mushy post to come later

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20 / part 21 / part 22 / part 23 / part 24 / part 25 / part 26 / part 27 / part 28 / part 29 / part 30

read on ao3

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Nesta ran her fingers through your hair, plaiting it up in a coronet identical to her own. Her hands were steady, despite the raging sea of nerves that wracked both of you. It was a day’s ride to the Night Court on dragonback, and you could practically feel Zôrzimril itching to take flight. Without moving your head, you glanced at the window, seeing your dragon's golden scales shining in the moonlight. Athariel was behind her, the two mighty beasts laying down and resting before their long journey. 

Both of you donned your new riding leathers, with featherlight but sturdy pieces of armour attached. The shoulder pieces were scaled like dragon skin – yours, gold, and Nesta’s silver. The designs of the leather blended with the metal armour were beautifully crafted, fitting perfectly to your forms. You didn’t know if you wanted Eris to tell you how much he spent commissioning the pieces, but you were grateful for the protection nonetheless. 

As Nesta carefully pinned your hair in place, your stomach churned. The plan to help the females of the Night Court escape would finally conclude by tomorrow morning. Despite the detailed planning and the fact you had all the other High Lords helping the cause, nerves still wracked you. As much as you could guide the females down the right path, there would undoubtedly be many who were too afraid to leave.

It is their choice, you had to remind yourself constantly. Being from a different court, there is only so much you could do.

“Where are you right now?” Nesta murmured, resting her hands on her shoulders and looking at you in the mirror that sat on your dresser in front of you.

You blinked, pushing away your negative thoughts. “What do you mean?”

She scoffed. “You have that distant look in your eyes. And I can hear that brain of yours ticking away like an old watch. What exactly are you fretting about?”

“What am I not fretting about is the easier question,” you grumbled. “There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan.”

The scraping of chair legs filled the room as Nesta pulled up a second chair, placing it next to yours and taking a seat. “Like that? Let us rationalise it, ok?”

You took a deep breath. “This is the truly final piece to my plan. The last piece on the board to fall. One way or another, we’ve gotten what we wanted so far. What if this is where it all goes wrong?”

“I think you forget the countless times things already have gone wrong,” Nesta gently reminded you. “Rhys capturing you, your engagement to Malgorm, much of what you planned has gone awry in some way. Yet it has all worked out – this will, too. Remember, you’re not doing it alone this time. We have Tarquin, Thesan, Helion, Tamlin, and Kallias all helping with the full support of their courts. We will be fine.”

“But the females might not be.” You pointed out, trying to keep your brain from worrying about how the groups could be followed and hunted down on their journey to escape.

“The ones from the Hewn City have Gwyn and Azriel to protect them, and the Illyrian females know the mountain passes better than any of the males. They can handle themselves,” Nesta insisted. 

Gwyn had gone back into the Night Court a few hours after the meeting in Solaris to begin her whisper network. You had watched with a mix of pride and worry as she grabbed the shadowsinger’s hand, winnowing back into the very place she would be in the most danger. Somehow, deep down, you knew she would be okay. This was not the shy, frightened Gwyn you had first met in the Library. No, she had grown a new strength that rivalled the toughest steel in the armoury. With Azriel at her side, they would protect the females from the Court of Nightmares.

“Is Emerie still going with you to the Illyrian meetup point?” Nesta asked you, adjusting the armbands on her leathers.

You nodded.

“Good. Illyria will be the hardest path to navigate. Helion, Lucien and I will easily be able to get the Hewn City females to the cove and across the border. But you’ll have to extend your magic quite far into the Steppes, have you rested enough for that?”

“I think so,” you stood up, walking over to your table of breakfast and forcing a few orange slices into your mouth to calm your stomach. It tasted bitter on your tongue, and it took everything in you to swallow it.

Your mate snorted, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. “A fat lie. You were tossing and turning so much I was tempted to smother you to sleep,”

Smirking, you turned back to Nesta. “Well, there are ways in which you could smother me that I wouldn’t mind…”

Nesta’s cheeks went red, but she swatted you with her hand towel. “Insatiable thing. Did we not satisfy you enough yesterday before Eris left?” 

Now it was your turn to blush and look away. Eris had taken his and Tamlin’s armies on ships up to the Western coast of the Night Court. His goal was to feign an offensive launch to draw out the armies, undoubtedly drawing out Rhysand as well. False negotiations would take place, centring around questioning if Rhysand had dealt with Koschei yet – and if not, all six courts were prepared to attack and eliminate him entirely to break the bargain. But before he had left in his shining High Lord armour, your husband spent hours showing both you and Nesta how much he would miss his wives.

You shook your shoulders, brushing off the heated memories before you pounced on Nesta. The mating bonds in your chest urged you to engage in the frenzy that was common for new mates, but you resisted for now, choosing to change the subject. “So Helion will shelter everyone at the Day Court until me and my ships arrive with the Illyrian females since we don’t have the magic to winnow everyone,” you said, revisiting your plan you had gone over a million times.

Despite your constant repetition, Nesta remained patient. “Yes, my love,” she said. “Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Vivianne will be with you. I will have Helion and Thesan with me, and we will be waiting for you and the Illyrians to arrive before dividing everyone up.”

At the High Lord’s meeting a few days ago, every ruler had agreed to provide a home to a certain number of refugees. Autumn and Summer were taking the most, followed by Day, Spring, Dawn, and then Winter. “I can accommodate however many you need,” Kallias had said when discussing the logistics. “However, I do not think many will want to come. It is a harsher environment than many are used to, except maybe the Illyrians.”

With every court helping, there was room for thousands of females spread across Prythian. Nesta had played a large role in coordinating with builders and stonemasons from the other courts, sharing her plans and models from Solaris as reference for the construction of more shelters. It was an effort shared by fae all across the lands, a thought which warmed your heart.

“Everything is as in place as it can be, I guess,” you said, glancing outside at the rise of the moon from behind the mountains, a signal that it was time to go. “We are prepared. I just want all of this to be over. Aside from dealing with Koschei, this is the last obstacle to climb before I can finally relax, I think.”

Nesta placed a kiss on your cheek. “Me too. Now let’s go get Emerie, so we can get those females out of there and be done with all this.”

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

A surprisingly alert Emerie was already waiting for you in the clearing where Athariel and Zôrzimril waited. The beasts lifted their heads and called out happily, making Emerie flinch.

You laughed, causing the winged female to snap playfully, “Don’t even. Not all of us are used to dragons. Give me a hundred years before you expect me to not jump at those noises.” She donned black leathers with black armour, and that familiar white ribbon across her forehead. Her wings were a blueish black in the moonlight, 

“Well you’re about to spend a full day on the back of one so best get used to it quickly.” You grabbed your supply sac from Saeros, nodding your thanks before hauling it over your back. Despite having food, water, and extra clothes, it was not heavy thanks to a special spell from Helion. 

Emerie slung her identical sac over her arm. “We ready?”

“This is the most awake I’ve ever seen you at this hour,” Nesta joked from a few feet away where she was greeting Athariel, stroking the silver beast’s nose.

“I’m on a mission, okay?” Emerie shrugged. “Finally being able to help with something really awakens you.”

Colourful leaves crunched underneath your boots as you lead Emerie over to where Zôrzimril was waiting. “You say that like you haven't been up from sunrise to sunset working on Solaris for over two months,” you pointed out.

Emerie’s response was cut off as Zôrzimril lowered her head upon your approach, emitting a low rumbling noise as she eyes up the winged female. Emerie’s eyes were wide, and she stopped in her tracks. 

“It’s ok,” you reassured her as you ran your hand down the dragon’s jaw. “She’s just checking you out and saying hi. She won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“If you say so.”

“Come test it yourself. Say hello back.”

After a few protests, you managed to drag Emerie forward until she was face to face with your dragon. Zôrzimril’s nostrils flared, her eyes squinting as she seized up the creature in front of her. Gently, you grabbed Emerie’s hand, placing it on the dragon’s snout. She let out a gasp as her hand made contact with the hard but smooth scales of the beast, jaw slack with wonder. 

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “She feels so…”

“Powerful?” You finished your friend’s sentence for her, and she nodded.

“I never thought I’d know what it was to fly,” her voice was faraway, as if her mind and body were disconnected in a drift between memories and dreams. “I guess I will now.”

Nesta had come up to the two of you, pulling you both in for a big hug. You held your mate and your friend, sighing into their comforting touch. “I’ll see you both soon, okay?” Nesta said.

“Stay safe,” Emerie said as she nodded, giving Nesta a squeeze on the shoulder before pulling back and heading towards Zôrzimril cautiously, securing the straps of her backpack across her chest.

Nesta turned to you, a well of emotions swimming in her blue grey eyes. “What we’re doing here is bigger than both of us,” she said. “It will be the final nail in the Night Court’s coffin. I find myself wondering if we have doomed them to a tragic fate in our pursuit for revenge.”

You frowned. “Are you having regrets?”

“No,” Nesta shook her head. “I’m not. But it makes me sad. For as much as I hated the Night Court, it was a beautiful place. Not all of them were bad.”

You took Nesta’s gloved hands in your own. “Velaris will be safe. And we are aiding as many of the females from Illyria and the Hewn City as we can. Rhys may be an arrogant prick, but he is not a complete fool. He will protect his remaining citizens from Koschei – he put himself in this position, not us. He was the one ready to sacrifice them, let him deal with the consequences of those actions. Besides, many may choose to flee regardless of if they come with us or not.”

Your mate sighed, nodding. “You’re right. I just… I keep thinking about Feyre and Elain and the baby. I don’t want anything to do with them, at least not for a long time, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”

“What if we wrote a letter to them?” You offered. “Let them know that should they need it, there will be a place for them at one of the sanctuaries. It doesn’t have to be in Autumn – I am sure Tarquin or Helion would gladly take them in.”

A sad smile came over Nesta’s face. “I’d like that, thank you.”

You knew Nesta’s relationship with her sisters would never be the same after everything that had happened in the last two years. It was a loss she would grieve and carry with her for a while. As much as you didn’t care for the other two Archeron siblings, they, too, had been dragged into the faerie world against their will. Truly, you hoped that one day they’d find happiness and a good home in Prythian, just not with Nesta in the Autumn Court.

Giving Nesta’s hand one last squeeze, you turned towards Zôrzimril and walked over to where Emerie was stroking the beast’s neck. When the dragon saw you approaching, she eagerly dropped her shoulder, extending her wing towards the ground for you to grab onto. So you gently stepped up onto the dragon’s scaling spikes, holding her wing for support and climbing up onto her back. In just a few movements, you settled yourself into the gaps between the horns at the base of Zôrzimril’s neck.

You peered down at Emerie, who went white. “Come on!” You called out in encouragement.

“That’s how you get up?” The Illyrian female baulked, causing you to scoff.

“Did you think we had a ladder or a staircase to get up?”

“Yes, actually!”

“Well time to put those Valkyrie muscles to use and get your ass up here.”

Emerie sighed, muttering to herself but grabbed onto Zôrzimril’s wing shakily. Awkwardly, she managed to scale up the dragon’s shoulder, panting and plopping herself down behind you. “That’s not as easy as you made it look.” She huffed.

You shrugged. “Take’s practice, now clip in.”

Emerie did so, taking the rope that was attached to her belt and clipping it onto the holster that was fitted around Zôrzimril’s nearest horn. You did the same, watching as Athariel spread her mighty silver wings beside you. The beast ran forward and shot into the air with the agility of a cat, and you heard Nesta whoop with delight. She seemed like a speck of dust on the large creature, but you managed to catch a glimpse of her turning her head around to look at you one more time.

Zôrzimril screeched in defiance of being left behind, and you patted her scales. “Volare,�� you said to her using the command Eris had taught you. Happy to oblige, the dragon lifted her head, causing Emerie to grasp onto the scales in front of her and curse as she spread her wings and catapulted into the air.

The female behind you let out a yelp, and you lifted your chin to the stars above and sighed deeply, relishing the feeling of climbing higher and higher into the sky. Zôrzimril’s powerful body soared through the clouds, her wings cutting through them like razor sharp blades. 

It was only another minute before your ascent finished and you finally broke free of the clouds, and Zôrzimril angled herself straight once more. She let out a happy screech, dipping her claw down to slice through the clouds below as she flew North. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the view. The moon was bright, illuminating everything in a blue-silver tone. The stars shone brightly even with the light of the moon, twinking as if they were greeting you.

Behind you, Emerie’s breathing had steadied. “Holy shit…” She said with awe.

You turned to face your friend. “A bit different than being carried through the skies by an Illyrian male”

“You have no idea…” Her brown eyes were wide with wonder as they drank in the view of the midnight sky. She stretched her wings as far as they could go, sighing. “I never thought I’d feel the wind on my wings like this.”

Despite the cold night air, your heart warmed at seeing your friend so happy. Carefully, she let go of her ironclad grip on Zôrzimril’s horns, letting her arms stretch out to the side. Straightening her shoulders, she tipped her head back and let out a whoop to the stars. Her voice rang out amongst the clear sky, and her smile did not fade all the way to the Night Court.

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

Your legs were numb from flying for so long, even a few hours later as you gathered around a small campfire with Emerie, Tarquin, Viviane, and Kallias. A small unit of guards were stationed nearby, ready to jump into action should things go south. Luckily, Kallias had put up a glamour around the beach, shielding both everyone on land and on the ships just offshore from lingering eyes. The Lord and Lady of Winter each donned their white fur coats that, combined with their pale skin and hair, made them glow under moon high. Tarquin wore a simple blue tunic with a deep V, his white hair braided back out of his chiselled face. While unmistakably powerful beings, they were dressed like they were going to a simple meeting rather than a rescue mission – perhaps as to not frighten the females. No doubt there was armour glamoured somewhere, ready to replace their casual attire at the snap of fingers. 

“They should be here soon,” Emerie muttered, pacing nervously and glancing at the rocky hills in the distance that led to the Illyrian Mountains where the females would be coming from. The steppes began half a mile away from the rocky beach where you stood, the beige and brown shrubbery rustling in the wind eerily. 

At least the mountains had shelter, places to hide from anyone who may try and follow the large groups. But the steppes were out in the open, which made you nervous.

“Give it time,” Tarquin said gently. “This is not a swift moving group of warriors. They are likely burdened with their provisions, as well as children and the sick or elderly.”

“Why can’t we just meet them at the end of the mountain pass and escort them to the beach?” Emerie asked nervously, cracking her knuckles.

“Because we are already in the Night Court’s territory,” Viviane tried to reassure the female, her white hair glowing in the moonlight. “To go farther than this would be considered an invasion.”

“Eris is launching an invasion, why can’t we?” Emerie spoke as if she had not heard half of the Lady of the Winter court’s sentence.

“A false one,” Viviane did not lose her patience as she spoke. “One that is taking place on ship, therefore not encroaching on Rhysand’s borders. Stepping on the beach is easy to overlook, but heading into the Steppes would be an act of war. We have to be cautious.”

Emerie nodded, eyes clouded as she stopped pacing and sat down on a nearby log. You knew your friend’s greatest fear – that only a small group would have made it out of Illyria, leaving hundreds left behind for dead. You prayed that her fears would not come true.

The steady pounding in your head that had started an hour ago began to increase, and you groaned, swaying slightly. The light in your palms that guided the doe you had manifested with your magic and sent deep into the Illyrian Mountains dimmed slightly, but you quickly willed it to strengthen once again. Deep down, you felt thin and stretched from having to extend your magic so far for several hours.

“Are you okay?” Kallias asked, his white brows narrowing with concern. 

You nodded. “Magic is tiring… I haven’t kept it going for this long… ever…” Your voice grew strained and weak, all of your energy focused on keeping that white trail of light going. You hated that you couldn’t even tell if there was anyone following it. All you could do was hope that everyone had made it to the designated escape starting point on time.

“She will not last much longer,” Tarquin muttered to his fellow High Lord. “It may yet be another few hours until the group arrives. I expect we will see them around sunrise at this rate.”

You barely heard Kallias’s response, closing your eyes and taking another deep breath. You could feel Nesta trying to reach you through the mating bond, but didn’t have the energy to respond. You could tell she was already in the Day Court, having succeeded in aiding the escape from the Court of Nightmares. And you wanted to reassure her that you were fine, that all was going well. But you couldn’t. You were swimming in a sea of your own powerful magic, but your body was not equipped to handle the strain.

“Hey, stay with us.” Your eyes snapped open at Viviane’s voice. She had come to stand at your side along with Emerie, an arm around your waist steadily supporting your unstable figure. Her blue eyes were laced with concern and she took in your exhausted form and turned to her husband. “She won’t be able to hold out until sunrise.”

“I can do it…” You muttered, mustering as much determination into your voice as you could. 

“No, you cannot,” Kallias said sternly. “You are not used to wielding magic for this long of a period. It requires extreme focus, especially for something as complicated as this. And you’ve been at it for several hours already, it is taking its toll and sooner or later you will pass out from exhaustion.”

Guilt wracked you, and you fought off tears. You felt like a failure as you whispered, “I’m sorry…” 

“Do not be,” Viviane assured you gently. “This is not a simple matter of setting up a ward or a glamour and leaving it be. You’re guiding a strange new type of magic none of us have seen before through miles of terrain that is unknown to you. Give yourself a break.”

“I can’t… stop…” You protested, vision going in and out. 

“So don’t,” came Tarquin’s voice. “I’ll give you a boost.”

Beside you, Emerie frowned. “A boost?”

You heard stones shift as Tarquin stepped around the fire, coming to stand in front of you. “Yes,” he said. “I can channel some of my magic into her to keep her body strong enough.”

“That’s a thing?” Your Illyrian friend asked.

“It is rarely done, as it is difficult to do, but yes.” Came Tarquin’s reply. 

“Do it…” You spoke up weakly, every syllable dragging out like a heavy stone. All you wanted to do was collapse into a soft bed and sleep for a year. Kallias was right, you couldn’t do this on your own.

“I must warn you, it will feel strange,” Tarquin’s voice sounded, and you felt Viviane and Emerie step away as the High Lord of the Summer Court took your hand that was not glowing with a trail of magic. “My magic is very different from yours, and your first instinct may be to expel it. Refrain from resisting.”

You nodded, opening your eyes and looking up at Tarquin. He nodded, and his hand moved up to your wrist, clamping down. You rotated your arm slightly to do the same, taking a deep breath. The male began to emit a soft glow, the whites of his eyes seeming to brighten and give him an otherworldly quality.

Seconds later, you felt it.

Tarquin’s magic pushed into your body, and you gasped sharply. It was like a tidal wave was being slammed into you, a raging sea coursing through your veins. It felt the complete opposite of Nesta and Eris’s comforting fire, or your own light-filled power. 

Your entire body felt like a riptide, and you could practically taste the salty air of summer on your tongue as your bones vibrated with new magic. You willed yourself to relax, to accept the foreign power being pumped into you. As you did so, your limbs felt stronger. Exhaustion was chased away, and you were finally able to open your eyes. A thin, golden band of magic circled in figure eights between your attached hands, dancing and twisting around each other.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Tarquin.

He nodded. “We must remain linked for the magic to prevail. An hour should give your body enough time to recover and reset.”

With renewed energy, you felt the white light in your free palm glow brighter, urging the Illyrian females out of the mountains.

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

The sun was beginning to creep up five hours later, and Tarquin’s boost of magic had vanished a while ago. Viviane was now holding you up once again, your head droopy as you fought to keep that light strong. You felt it was close, which made it easier to hang on.

“They’re approaching,” You said through gasped breaths.

Emerie shot up from where she was sitting, the jerky she was chewing on falling to the ground. “You can feel them?” She asked eagerly.

“No,” you responded as Kallias, Tarquin, and the soldiers perked up. “But my magic feels close, and we have to assume that means they are close as well.”

Tarquin turned to one of his guards. “Winnow to the ships and tell Cresseida we are almost ready to receive the refugees.” He ordered, and the guard disappeared within seconds. 

The hope in Emerie’s eyes as she gazed into the Steppes rekindled some strength within you. You gently pushed yourself off of Viviane, taking a shaky step towards where Emerie was looking.

“What’s that?” Viviane asked, pointing to one of the rocky hills in the distance near the mountains. Both the High Lords joined her where she stood a few feet away from you and Emerie.

A faint, glowing white doe stood upon the hill. Stardust seemed to swirl around its feet as it leapt over the rocks bounding through the plains towards the beach. Everyone held their breath, silence filling the air.

“Come on…” Emerie muttered nervously.

Moments later, a set of wings appeared where the doe was – a female carrying a lit torch. She was so far away, even with your fae eyesight it was hard to tell for sure who it was. But then another one appeared beside her, slightly taller, carrying a large sac.

“Lift the glamour!” Viviane barked at Kallias, who snapped his fingers. The air shimmered for a second before clearing. The doe continued to bound toward you, getting fainter and fainter as you felt the last bit of energy you had controlling your magic slipping.

More and more sets of wings appeared over the rocky hill, the torches going from one to a hundred in minutes. Like an army ready for battle, hundreds and hundreds of winged females stepped down onto the plains. Emerie let out a choked sob from beside you.

“By the Mother…” Tarquin gasped softly. “They made it!”

“There’s so many of them…” Viviane said with awe as more and more torches and winged bodies funnelled out of the mountain pass. Sure enough, through your blurry and exhausted vision, you managed to make out the sight of a swarm of bodies stepping onto the flat stretch, shuffling towards the now glamour-free beach.

As they grew closer and guards scurried about with preparations, you breathed a sigh of relief. And then the world grew dark as you collapsed into Tarquin’s arms with exhaustion. 

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

An otherworldly headache pounded against your skull as you blinked open your eyes, the golden sunlight shining into your face too bright to handle. Your entire body felt heavy, like a stone at the bottom of the ocean.  When you groaned, a familiar hand brushed some hair out of your face.

“Why hello there,” came the familiar silky voice of Eris. 

With as much effort as you could, you pried your eyes open and blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness. Eris was seated beside you, leaning against the frame of the bed you were laying in with a book in one hand. He donned a white shirt with a deep v-neck and loose sleeves, paired with light green trousers. His long red hair was braided back, a few strands framing his sharp face. He smiled gently. “How are you feeling?”

“Exhausted,” you mumbled, relaxing into his touch as he continued to stroke your face. “Where am I?”

“One of Helion’s quarters,” Eris said, bringing a cup of water to your lips and coaxing the liquid into your mouth. “You passed out right as the Illyrians arrived, and Tarquin brought you straight here.”

The Illyrians.

You sat up abruptly, ignoring the protest of your tired body. “They made it? The ships got them here safely?”

Eris smiled, nodding. “Yes, my dear. All eight thousand of them.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Eight thousand? How many came from the Hewn City?”

“Five thousand, as to be expected. Many families had already made it to Velaris safely, so there were not as many females as in Illyria left behind.”

The room spun around you with shock. The white marble bookcases across from your bed seemed to sway, and you shook your head. “Wow,” was all you could murmur.

Eris gently pulled you against his chest, kissing your head. “Wow, indeed. I am so proud of you, my dear. You’ve saved the lives of thirteen thousand females today. They know what you did for them, and Nesta has had to practically barricade your door to keep them from barging in here to thank you.”

“Where is Nesta?” You asked.

“She will be here in a few minutes,” Eris replied. “You began to stir half an hour ago, so I sent word to her. She was with the other High Lords helping crunch numbers for which courts are taking which females.”

You sighed with content, the warmth of Eris’s body relaxing you. You turned on your side, wrapping an arm around him and snuggling closer to your mate. “I can’t believe we pulled that off,” you murmured.

Eris cocked his head, setting his book aside on the table. “Why? It was a good plan, and we thought through every possible scenario to ensure its success.”

“How did negotiations with Rhys go?”

Your husband let out a sharp laugh. “Seeing Rhysie is always such a treat,” he chuckled. “He fell for the bait quite easily. We waited for half a day in our ships before the Illyrians descended from the skies and the Darkbringers appeared on the shoreline, all ready for a battle that would not happen. I demanded an audience, and Rhys complied. I talked his ear off for a few hours, and let him whine about the supposed unfairness of all this. It got painfully dull after a while, but I found out something very interesting…”

You perked up, peering up at the male who had a smug look on his face. “What?”

“Rhysand broke his bargain with Koschei. After the baby was born, he travelled to the depths of the lake in which the Death God dwells and declared his intentions to not hold up his end. There was a price to be paid, of course, one I find very symbolic.

“Rhys has relinquished almost all of his power to Koschei. His magic was ripped out of him and fed to the beasts beneath the lake floors like a bone to a dog. He was left with the bare minimum to keep Velaris safe enough, but that’s it. Furthermore, he is required to visit Koschei once a month for a week – a mirror of that very same bargain he made with dear Feyre over a year ago. By doing so, he guaranteed Koschei will not go after Nesta, not with a new plaything at his disposal.”

Your jaw went slack. “Rhys… lost his powers?” You repeated in shock.

Eris didn’t even bother trying to refrain his smile from widening. “Yes. I think it’s justice, personally. I cannot say I feel bad for him in the slightest. It also seems Feyre told him that in the process of breaking the bargain, he had to find a way to keep Nesta alive as well. For all his faults, he will do whatever Feyre asks of him at this point. That is a blessing for us.”

You exhaled shakily. Rhys was one of the most powerful High Lords, now diminished to a regular High Fae male in a small city. There would be no gaining control of Illyria and the Hewn City now with this loss of power, you realised. “I can’t believe this…” You said, still rattled with shock.

Eris rubbed your shoulder. “Anywho, once he told me that story we made some reassurances to each other. Me and Tamlin’s ships departed slowly, giving the armies more time to linger and make sure we had left before returning home to find almost half of their population gone. The distraction worked perfectly, I am sure they are in a tizzy about it as we speak.”

Before you could answer, the door to your guest chambers swung open to reveal Nesta. Her hair was in a singular braid, hanging across her shoulder. She wore a shining gold dress that was carefully draped over one shoulder, the fabric hanging loosely across her chest. Your eyes popped open, and Eris laughed beside you.

“I have never seen you wear something like this before,” he chuckled.

Rolling her eyes, Nesta closed the door behind her and came over to sit on your other side. “Oh, please,” she snapped. “Helion picked it out personally. I couldn’t not wear it, it’s his court after all.”

“I’m not complaining,” you insisted as Nesta gave you a kiss on the forehead.

“He is a relentless flirt,” Eris said, amused. “But one with good taste.”

You sighed as Nesta rubbed your back, despite her death glare she sent at Eris. The three of you sat in silence for a few minutes, happy to be back in each other’s company. With your mates by your side, the weariness you had felt began to diminish. 

“I want to see the females,” you said. “I want to make sure they’re okay.”

“Emerie is taking good care of them and the dragons are guarding the borders,” Nesta said gently. “You need to rest.”

You shook your head, sitting up and peeling the soft duvet off. You crawled over Eris’s legs, unsteadily placing your feet on the white marble ground. 

“Take it easy,” Eris chided, holding your elbow. “Your body is exhausted. You can see them tomorrow.”

“No,” you said sharply, standing up like a newborn deer and heading over to the closet in the corner. “After everything we’ve done to see this through, I need to see them with my own eyes.”

Nesta and Eris exchanged a glance, but didn’t protest. You ignored them and grabbed the white dress Helion had hung up in there for you, peeling off your nightgown. You pulled the soft fabric on, tying the gold belt around your waist. “Where are they staying right now?” You asked.

“Many are in the main hall,” Eris replied, standing up. “Others are in temporary camps set up across the fields. I believe those residing in the main hall are currently at dinner.”

“Great,” you said, holding out your hand. “Take me there, please.”

“As you wish,” Nesta said, taking your other arm while Eris grasped your extended hand. 

After ten minutes of meandering through Helion’s royal hallways, you came to the dinner room, passing through the white columns at the entrance. 

Your jaw nearly dropped. Hundreds of females sat at tables or on comfortable floor mats, hearty soups in hand as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. A group of musicians played in the corner, the gentle tune echoing in the grand chamber. Dozens of eyes turned towards you as Eris and Nesta led you through the crowd towards the table at the front, where Emerie, Tamlin, Lucien, Helion, Thesan, Tarquin, Cresseida, Kallias, and Viviane were seated. Gwyn and Azriel sat at the end, partially hidden in the shadows. When your friend saw you, she smiled brightly and waved. You breathed a sigh of relief, seeing her safe after everything she had done.

Lucien stood up, coming around the front of the table to greet you. His eye gleamed with pride as he opened his arms. “Come here, you,” he said cheerfully.

Peeling away from your mates, you lept into Lucien’s arms, hugging him tightly. Your friend chuckled, squeezing you reassuringly. “Glad you made it out okay,” he said.

“You too,” you replied, pulling away and smiling at him. “We did it. We really did it.”

“I told you, you’d make a good High Lady,” came a familiar gruff voice. Tamlin had risen as well, approaching behind Lucien and offering you a small smile. “We are all very proud.”

“Thank you, Tam.” You said gratefully. His large hand patted you on the back before returning to his place at the table. 

Nesta gently grabbed your hand. “Come, you must eat.” She guided you towards one of the three empty chairs at the centre of the long table. It was covered in various fruits, roasted vegetables with sauces, and about ten different kinds of meat. Your mouth watered as you realised how hungry you were.

On the way, you stopped beside Gwyn and Azriel, leaning down to hug your friend. “Thank goodness you’re okay,” you murmured into Gwyn’s shoulder.

“Ye of little faith,” she said sarcastically “I was fine. All I did was chat up some priestesses, they were the ones who mostly spread the word. I was safe and sound.”

You pulled away. “Come join us at our end of the table!”

The priestess shook her head. “I’m okay here, it’s too crowded over there.”

“You mean you want to just sit here and ogle Azriel,” Nesta singsonged with a gleam in her eyes.

Gwyn’s face went red, and to your surprise, Azriel flushed slightly as well. “Shut the fuck up,” she snapped at Nesta playfully, shifting in her seat.

“It’s okay, Gwyn,” Eris piped up, winking at the shadowsinger, who seemed like he wanted to bury himself alive. “He is quite pretty to look at. But should you change your mind and like to join us, let us know.”

You laughed, Gwyn’s muttering and cussing you out as you, Nesta, and Eris took your seats at the table. As you dove into the plate of food in front of you, you tuned into the lively sounds of the room while Nesta and Eris began chatting with Helion. 

Many of the females kept glancing at you, some offering smiles or nods before returning to their company. Some were huddled in the corner, eyes wary as they consistently scanned their surroundings. You wondered how many females had similar stories to Emerie, or to Morrigan. How many had suffered for years and accepted it because they believed that is how things would always be? How many had been spared future suffering because of their escape?

As you downed your goblet of wine, you reminisced on that day in the House of Wind last year when you had first started your plan to flee the Night Court and seek revenge on its leaders. Never did you think that it would go this far, that you would accomplish this much. All you had wanted was to be free and be able to make your own choices. And now it led to seeking that same outcome for thousands of others.

Rhys could never hurt you again. Those painful images of that cruel, dark mist lashing your bare skin over and over again would fade into distant memory eventually, with no fear of it ever happening again. He couldn’t lock you or Nesta up, or threaten you. No, you both had more power than him now by a long measure. You were finally free from his grasp.

A year ago you had been angry at Feyre, too. Part of you still was, and delighted in the karmic justice of destroying part of her court in retribution. But you hoped for her sake, that she would accept the help offered in the letter Nesta had planned to send. For a moment, you wondered if Feyre would still be who she was now if she hadn’t met Rhys.

“What are you thinking about?” Eris asked you, leaving Nesta to argue with Helion herself.

His amber eyes were soft and kind, the cruel mask that he had plastered on for so many centuries cracked and slipped away. The world could see Eris for who he truly was not, not just as Beron’s firstborn son. 

You smiled. “How I can’t wait for everything here to be sorted so we can go home.”

“Me too, my dear, me too.” He squeezed your hand and surveyed the room again. “You have accomplished what many in the likes of my father deemed impossible. Now even the most stubborn fae realise that things can change fast if they will it so. That is a very good thing.”

“Yes, it is.”

The road ahead would not be without challenge. Settling thirteen thousand females into six courts would be a process, and there would surely be setbacks along the way. But after a year of being tortured, beaten, sneaking around and scheming, you were ready for some normal problems.

“Eris?” You said.

He turned to face you once again. “Yes?”

“I love you. And thank you, for everything you’ve done. None of this would have been possible if you hadn’t agreed to help me last year.”

The High Lord of the Autumn Court laughed, kissing your cheek gently. “It is I who should be thanking you. Both of you. You freed me from the prison of my old life. And not just me, but thousands of others. I intend on spending eternity thanking you for it.”

So you laced one hand in Eris’s, and the other in Nesta’s as they both looked at you with so much love in their eyes you were sure you would explode. As much as you liked the Day Court, you yearned to be back in Autumn where you belonged, under the bright trees and wandering the forest paths. As if echoing your thoughts, Zôrzimril’s call echoed on the wind like an ancient song.

And so the yellow rays of sunshine morphed into orange and red, and the sun began to set. You felt a faint brush of a hand on your shoulder, and a familiar, ethereal voice sounded in your ear barely above a whisper.

Well done, my child.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains, the echoing voice faded with it. 

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[kharia-adarkim]

Freedom

Fordola sighed as the telltale crimson hue of sunset crept into the prison halls. Pulling a stone from beneath her cot, she scraped another line into the wall. Five days since her last visit. Fordola sighed. The Warrior of Light's visits had become her one comfort in the prison cell. Each day for over a month since the Lakshmi incident, the two of them talked - about their childhoods, about recent news, about Kharia's forays into somanoutics. Sometimes their conversations had no words at all, and the two simply sat in each others' presence, sharing their feelings through the Echo. Kharia had been teaching her to control this power, to prevent her from being overwhelmed by it, and for that Fordola was grateful - being able to shut out the guards' contempt for her made the stay more tolerable. But like everything else, Fordola reasoned, even that bit of peace had to end. She sighed and laid on her cot, waiting for sleep to take her.

The vivid clank of keys echoing down the hall caused Fordola to lift her head, stirring from her near-rest. Her hopes faded as she heard the shuffle of four - no, five - pairs of feet proceed down the hallway. The footsteps were heavy, and carried the telltale jingle of mail. She silently cursed herself for getting her hopes up. Of course the slayer of Zenos had moved on. She was a fool for getting accustomed to the silver lining to this monotony.

"Fordola rem Lupus," a man declared to the bars of her cell. She looked up in confusion. It sounded like...

"Raubahn?" she sneered, "what're you wasting your time on me for? Finally time to let the mob have their way?"

"Many in the city have called for your head," Lyse replied.

"Indeed. But if we're to build a new Ala Migho founded on justice, we must resist the siren song of revenge," Raubahn continued. "Lyse, myself, and many others have spent many long nights discussing your sentence. Your crimes against the people of Ala Migho are many, and-"

"Oh stuff it," Fordola interrupted, "I've lost track of the days I've spent in this cell, and my only visitor's gone without a trace. Put me out of my bloody misery already." She glared at each of them in turn - Raubahn, M'naago, Lyse... As she locked eyes with the girl, Fordola's resonance flared, and she felt... smugness? Amusement? Was she enjoying Fordola's torment? "Well?!" she shouted. "Out with it! You're here to sentence me to death, is that it?!"

"No Fordola," Raubahn answered. "That may have been in the cards at one point, but you saved a great many lives from Lakshmi. It wouldn't be right to repay that kindness with death. Your sentence is not execution, but exile." Fordola stood silent in a mix of relief and confusion. Raubahn continued his speech. "We've someone waiting outside to escort you out of the city. Barring express invitation of the government of Ala Migho, beginning sunrise tomorrow, you are not to set foot upon her soil, nor will her laws protect you from those to whom this verdict may seem unsatisfactory." He nodded to one of the guards, who unlocked the door to her cell. Fordola simply stood in place, trying to reconcile her emotions. She'd spent her whole life fighting for a better future in Ala Migho, and upon Zenos's death, resigned herself to her own impending demise. What relief she may have felt on learning she was to live was soured by the knowledge that she had naught left to live for. Eventually, she shuffled from her cell with some prodding from the guard.

"Just so you know," M'naago hissed from behind as they began their walk to the surface, "I was against this. But you had someone unbearably persuasive in your corner. You owe her." Fordola's brow furrowed in confusion. A few minutes later, the vanguard opened the rear door of the prison, and Fordola and the others filed outside.

"Are one of you two my escort?" she asked the guards of their entourage, who ignored her as they unlocked her shackles. Fordola rubbed her sore wrists.

"No, that'd be me," a voice replied from nearby. Fordola looked to the source, and saw a small, bespectacled auri woman in an emerald gown. The woman kept a level gaze with her for a few moments before cracking a grin. "I told you I was going to get you out of that prison," Kharia smiled sadly. "I'm... sorry, that this is how it played out. I know how much Ala Migho means to you. But several of the officials involved were adamant that letting you free to roam the city would undermine trust in the new government. I hope you can forgive me." Kharia placed a hand on Fordola's shoulder. Though the woman's face was stoic, Kharia could feel the conflicted feelings poring over her through the echo. Knowing she'd never crack, especially in front of the likes of Lyse and Raubahn, Kharia pulled her into an embrace and whispered into her ear, "Let's get you home. A new home. With me." Fordola was quiet a moment.

"Fine," she answered softly, "let's get out of here." Kharia wiped the precious few tears from Fordola's face and waved to the Ala Mighans assembled.

"We'll be out of your hair now. Thank you." Kharia said to the others. M'naago rolled her eyes.

"It's not as if we could refuse a request from the one who freed our nation from the grip of the empire," Raubahn chuckled. "Safe travels."

"Have fun," M'naago growled, "I hope I never see you again."

"Mutual," Fordola answered, grabbing Kharia's wrist. "Let's get out of here."

[foxdev1l]

hi last time i asked for thoughts it went really extremely well and i've been six-obsessed since. i didn't even like a/b/o before but i'm crazy now. anyway you mentioned you have a/b/o notes on pretty much all characters so i'm politely shaking your brain more please 🤲

thanks for the ask <3 very sorry it took me so long to reply - i spent the last two months trying to finish a big fic on ao3, and that took up most of my time and energy. but i've finally managed to scrape together the a/b/o headcanon notes for most of the geese - some longer and more detailed than others - and i hope you enjoy it as much as the six one. feel free to add your own thoughts and opinions :]

thank you to @hollandstrophyhusband for brainstorming with me, and @uncleclam for being a dan expert and helping me come up with the second half of his headcanon!

CW: nsfw, identity issues, self-destructive behavior

A/B/O HEADCANON FOR THE GEESE

Richard – Alpha

He presents very early on, as an Alpha to his own smugness and the annoyance of anyone else. He's flourishing, unstoppable, not afraid to lean into any stereotypes. He wears his status proudly, clogs up the air with the obnoxious stench of Alpha pheromones wherever he goes. 

He's a fucking bastard, pushy towards Omegas without caring whether or not they already have a partner. And he loves to rile up other Alphas, cocky and overconfident as he is. 

It's only when he ends up pressed against a cold, stained wall – fledged, sharp teeth scraping along the tendons of his neck and a knee dug into his growing erection – that the consequences of his actions finally and truly sink in.

Julian – Beta

He's not an Alpha like his brother, strong and resilient and born to become something great. But neither is he an Omega, can't be married off to some strong, influential Alpha. 

He is completely and utterly useless. His mother despises it.

Jacob – Omega

There is an undisclosed box of suppressants crammed between a bottle of mouthwash and a pack of razor blades in the cupboard under his bathroom sink. It sees the artificial light of the bathroom twice a day before it gets pushed back into its hiding place – all the way against the back of the cupboard to make sure not even one of his nameless hookups can find it.

He can't remember the last time he went into heat, and it's not right, it's not healthy, but he can't make himself stop.

His body is beginning to fold under the abuse. It's still holding together, is not on the verge of collapsing, but it's showing in smaller, more painful ways. The inability to regulate body temperature, constant headaches, shaky hands, and recurring bouts of nausea.

What little pheromones still manage to leak through despite the strong suppressants get dampened by scent blockers. He uses sticking plasters to tape them over his glands. They make his skin red and irritated but he can deal with it – he’s fine.

Others think he's a Beta, which is almost just as embarrassing, but at least no Alpha looks down on him, mostly just ignores him – it's a small mercy.

What he's lacking, he tries to make up for in other ways. He seeks out bar after bar, fuck after fuck, desperately trying to compensate for who he truly is.

But there's an itch deep inside him, and no matter how many times he gets his dick wet and presses someone else into sheets underneath him, it's not enough to scratch it, to satiate the hunger within.

There is a part of him, longing and yearning and disgusting, and no matter how hard he desperately tries to get rid of it, it stays.

Luke – Omega

Luke is slutty, has done a lot of stupid, risky things over the years, and he's always half-expected this all to end with a child. But he always assumed he'd be the one knocked up.

A male Omega can impregnate another Omega, though it's rare and risky. That’s why Luke is so shocked when he comes back to find he has a kid.

His instincts are clawing at his insides with the vigor of a wounded animal. Being away from his child hurts, seeing it getting raised by a complete stranger – an Alpha – is even worse.

Dan – Beta

Dan is a beta. There is nothing particularly special about him, though that suits him just fine. He likes being ordinary, being able to slip through the cracks unnoticed, away from prying eyes and unnecessary attention.

He does, however, have a few things to say about their current political system, if one were genuinely interested and patient enough to listen to him – about the oppression of Omegas, the glorification of Alphas, and, above all else, the exploitation of Betas.

But all in all, he's just trying to get through life, keep his head down as much as possible, and being a Beta is pretty convenient for that.

It doesn't keep him from experimenting, of course. There are drugs, altered pheromones that, instead of giving you the kick of a high, can simulate a heat or a rut upon injection. 

Alpha pheromones are much more pricey so Dan mostly keeps to the Omega substances. It's addicting, intoxicating, and he can't help but seek it out, that pleasurable thrill, the feverish lust, if only momentarily.

It's a risky game he's playing, he knows, for the gratification of fleeting ecstasy. He's heard the stories, of people overdoing it and ending up in a constant state of heat, getting trapped in a never-ending spiral of overwhelming pleasure.

But taking drugs is always risky. He's never expected anything less.

Besides, compared to all the other stuff he's got lying around in his flat, being non-stop horny is probably the least of his worries.

Dean – Beta

Dean is a beta. His anger is neither that of a hot-headed Alpha nor is his gentleness rooted in the caring nature of an Omega. He just is. He's never cared much for his secondary gender, has never let it bother him. He's got other things he rather focus his energy on.

Driver – ???

Driver is a fucking mystery. No one knows his secondary gender, but most people aren't brave enough to flat-out ask. 

He's got that unbothered and cool persona of a Beta and the assertive, intimidating facade of an Alpha. But he can also be strangely quiet and shy, almost akin to an Omega.. Sometimes people wonder if he ever even presented in the first place.

Steven – Alpha

Steven is an alpha stuck in a constant state of rut.

Lars – Alpha

He presents late as an Alpha and spends his first rut gently rutting against a pillow, cheeks tear-stained, too overwhelmed to do much else. It's hardly pleasurable, mostly painful, and his father decides to put him on suppressants pretty quickly afterward. He just can't be bothered.

It doesn't really help though. The suppressants keep Lars’ ruts subdued but never truly kill them. He can still feel it, a straining pressure just below the surface; an itch he can never quite satisfy no matter what.

It's frustrating, irritating, keeps him on edge, and makes him fuzzy and restless, but he's too scared to quit the suppressants, the mere thought of going through another rut as maddening and consuming as his first almost unbearable. Albeit, it can't go on like this forever. The suppressants take a toll on his body, and, as stubborn as he is and as frightening as he feels, he knows he's going to have to lay off eventually.

 His next rut is going to be worse than his first, aggressive and forceful. What he needs is someone he can trust. Someone patient, understanding. Soft but firm. An anchor he can hold onto when he finally eases off the suppressants, to soften the rough edges of his rut as it overtakes him, and to hold and soothe him when all is done.

K – Omega

All replicants are designed to be Alpha's, although their DNA has been altered to make them more suitable. The strength and resilience persist, but the rough edges – the ruts and aggression and possessiveness – have been chafed away to make space for a modified, more obedient type of Alpha.

Officer K is made to be an Alpha, just like all the other models, and he does not waste much thought on it, has more important things to focus on. 

That is, until one day and without any warning, he goes into heat.

His madame has just sent him away to hunt down another old replicant gone rogue halfway across the entire city when it happens. It starts slow, a low simmering heat below his skin, a fuzzy vision, and a quickening of his pulse. 

Then it hits him all at once.

It must have been a malfunction, during his creation, while he was being processed. K isn't sure.

He barely manages to drag himself to the nearest hotel before the worst of his heat hits. The next few days are a haze, spent terrified and alone. The skin on his arms and chest is irritated and painful by the end of it, scratched raw by his nails in a desperate attempt to gain back control. 

When he gets back to the police department, he offers his madame the replicant’s bagged eye like a gift and hopes she won't ask why it took longer than usual.

He does not tell her what happened, has instead chosen to chase down illegal heat suppressants on his way back to keep most of his…issue contained. Buying the suppressants off some sketchy dealer has left a bitter taste of guilt behind but the fear of what may happen if someone realizes he's malfunctioned – is nothing but a failed product – is enough to keep him tongue-tied.

They will retire him, K has never been more sure about anything in his entire life. And so he continues to take heavy heat suppressants, drowns out the overwhelming, traitorous smell of an Omega with scent blockers.

It's painful, stressful to always be on guard, in a constant state of fear that someone will find out his secret. But K has made his decision. 

It's fine. After all, it only helps solidify the growing belief that something is truly and fundamentally wrong with him.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part nineteen)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 668

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Introducing Conductor's daughter at the very end of this part! Yes, I'm a sucker for sentient vehicles, leave the Express alone. But anyway, enjoy!

Conductor hummed to himself as he jotted down music notes.

It wasn't often he spent time in the engine room but anywhere on the Owl Express was calming and felt safe.

"I will love you, until my dying day," he murmured, folding the papers and standing.

"I didn't know you wrote songs," Grooves commented from the doorway.

"How long have you been there? And since when did you wake up?" Conductor asked, face heating despite leaving the engine room.

Grooves moved out the way as Conductor dragged the door closed.

"Long enough to hear you singing to yourself," Grooves answered and Conductor turned back to him. "You know it's probably not healthy for you to be in there with all the fumes."

"I'm used to it. I've had this train for years, Grooves, I think I know how long it's safe for me to stay in one place," Conductor shrugged.

"What sort of song were you writing?" Grooves asked as the two of them walked through the train.

"Love song for the movie," Conductor said under his breath.

"You wrote a love song for the movie?" Grooves breathed as they ascended a set of stairs.

"It's not any good," Conductor responded, pushing open the door to the VIP lounge.

He strode over to the door of a guest room, unlocking it. "You can stay in there while we're on the Express. Sorry that yer had to sleep downstairs last night."

"It's fine Connie."

"I'm gonna go check on some of the cargo then I'll be back," Conductor stated, heading back out of the room.

He journeyed through the Express, down to the luggage room.

A melody rang through the air, and he looked over at the wall.

The phone was ringing.

"Who is it?" Conductor asked, picking up the earpiece.

"It's Empress. Where is Grooves?" She replied.

"Why would I know?"

"Because the last people who saw you were the cleaning team and supposedly he was with you," Empress rightly accused.

"What d'you want?" Conductor sighed.

"We know that everyone's off at the moment but Snatcher's got some business he needs to deal with in Subcon. He said he'll be back in time for the last couple scenes he has to film," Empress explained.

"You know, a little bird told me that you make this sort of trip every two months. Shut everything down for a week or two, and disappear along with your train. Makes a curious cat like me wonder what you're up to."

"They say that curiosity kills cats, are you sure you want to be asking all these questions?"

"Are you sure you want to be doing all this deflecting?"

"I'm leavin'."

"Running from your problems won't fix anything," Empress hissed.

Conductor cursed under his breath, slamming the phone back onto its stand.

The Express' brakes locked the wheels of the train in place, a scraping groan shuddering the carriage.

Conductor let out another, louder, swear and stumbled into the wall, glaring at the train.

"What the peck was that for?!" He shouted.

The phone buzzed with static on its stand before reciting a message.

"You've arrived at your destination!" The phone announced, a metallic reverb to voice.

"Yeah, I got that." Conductor scowled as the train stopped. "Yer lucky I love you."

"I'm the pecking best!" The phone buzzed again, a confident air about it.

"You are darlin' but go easier on the breaks next time," Conductor instructed, running out of the luggage room and shouting towards the stairs. "Grooves! You okay?!"

"I'm fine! Why did we stop?!"

"We're here! But wait inside, I need to deal with something first!"

Conductor didn't wait for a reply, sprinting for the back of the train.

He burst outside, looking at the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

"Please tell me I'm not late," Conductor whispered to himself.

He waited a minute, debating on whether to go knock on the door.

But it was answered for him, an owl exiting the house.

"Hey dad."

"Hi Roxie."

[vexxerveesvoice]

The Kabbalah of Writing: Chapter Five Writing Exercises

As a Jewish writer, I've been wanting to explore more about how to connect my writing to my spiritual and religious practices. As a first step towards this, once a week I will be responding to each of the writing exercises provided in Sherri Mandell's The Kabbalah of Writing. For the sake of being careful of copyright, I will not be posting the questions themselves. I encourage fellow Jewish writers to follow along.

The plumbers came to give a quote for fixing our kitchen and bathroom today. The contractors handling the remodel have left the dishwasher, fridge, kitchen sink, toilet, and bathroom sink disconnected for over a week, so we called another plumber to get the job done quicker. Two men wandered inside, slipping apple red covers over their shoes. -- A sixteen-ounce blueberry muffin latte with oat milk, since I couldn't use the kitchen sink Three books on the Jewish life cycle and one on counting the Omer, along with a set of cards An e-book bencher for following traditional Jewish prayers throughout the day Considered but not bought: a book about incorporating liturgy into daily life -- One man held a tablet, scrolling through the pre-set repair options and selecting the items the team would need to complete our space. The second strolled through the kitchen, shining his phone flashlight underneath the sink to get a better look at the poorly-done piping. I fiddled with my Magen David necklace while they made their observations and tapped away at the tablet, muttering to each other about parts and labor costs. Less than fifteen minutes later, they were out the door, sitting in their truck finishing up their list of supplies. I left not far behind them to pick up my morning coffee, kissing the mezuzah in my car as I pulled out of the driveway.

I don't have any recent flash essays to work with, so I'm skipping this prompt.

A black and red one-piece uniform, half-skirt on the left, legging on the right, splattered in sequins and consisting mostly of velvety spandex. Our silks were black, grey, and bright red. We usually performed in the pouring rain. That's what happens when you grow up a color guard kid in western Washington, where the rainy season and your performance schedule weave together like a braid. This year's season, we performed to a medley of video game themes and I, an inexperienced freshman, was thrown onto rifle and sabre along with the seniors. I spent much of my rehearsal time watching the evening sky in awe, watercolor reds and purples thick and stark against rigid blue mountains just behind our colossal grandstand. At our last competition, our coach changed our choreography between prelims and finals. Somehow, we won best auxiliary anyway. I don't think I saw any seniors with a dry eye after that. My lips still remember the smooth, cold feel of the award as I kissed it underneath the sobbing sky. -- Black leggings and a sweatshirt bought from Amazon contrasted with bright white suspenders. A cheap, ill-fitting black hat matched with our cheap, ill-fitting black performance shoes. I think we used the same silks as our freshman year. Only five of us competed my senior year of high school. B, a fellow senior, was our captain. She'd already done three years of DCI at that point. She was an obvious choice. We were joined by our fellow senior, K, and two underclassmen. Our show theme was James Bond and, without a coach, we were expected to write most of our choreography alone. At our only competition, we managed to scrape by into finals. I still don't know how we did it. -- A black and gold sequined uniform top paired with long flared black pants. Our hair was usually doused in glitter and our silks were tattered gold and black sewn together. Culture shock was probably the best way to describe the transition from high school to college color guard. Not needing to compete was nice, but the biggest shock was our treatment from the band director. S was the kindest, most supportive, most energetic director I could have asked for. He always encouraged the band to cheer for us after particularly difficult runs, he let us take third quarter off to rest after performing, he made sure we were fed when we showed up for gigs. It may not have rained in Idaho as much as Washington, but the 70-degree dome kept us cozy and dry even when it did. Our first year may have been a little messy, but I finally found somewhere to thrive.

Video Games I still haven't played Halo or Kingdom Hearts, despite having performed to the themes for an entire season. The brass sections had a great time throwing Halo references at each other. I think most of us were confused about why the third game, one we'd never heard of and that I've never heard about since, was included, but the music was good so it didn't particularly matter. Our coach was hard on us, expecting great things, but she cared for us deeply and we got results. I'll never know why our band director fired her. Marathon This was a mess. The color guard was in shambles. Our coach was replaced and the new one wasn't quite right. Our uniforms were thin and cheap, leaving us freezing in the pouring autumn storms. We all hated the theme - none of us liked running and none of us thought it was particularly engaging for an audience. I think we played Chariots of Fire, but that's the only piece I remember. It was a forgettable year. Leviathan I don't think a single one of us had read Moby Dick when our band director selected this theme. I don't think a single one of us picked it up afterwards. I'm still mad that he decided the three-person color guard should be an abstract representation of the ocean instead of sirens. It's not like we had a coach to fight for us, though. We were on our own. And we would remain that way the whole year. James Bond This could have been good, had we been up to snuff. The color guard still lacked a coach, although we'd recruited some new members. We, the seniors, tried to make the best of it. We all bought our own uniforms, doing our best to find something comfortable and within the theme. We wouldn't find a coach until winter season. We were on our own again, with a band director who couldn't stand us.

My toes taste the dusty heat of summer astroturf through my socks, shoes long since discarded as we practice marching basics again. The 90-degree heatwaves lick my sweaty skin, beckoning me to rest in the shade beneath the trees just on the other side of the street, but I'm the captain, so I can't leave. My stomach claws at my diaphragm, complaining that all I've eaten today is a few cubes of watermelon. The nerves get to me too much if I eat anything else. My hands begin to sting almost as much as my throat rasps, abused by the clapping and shouting it takes to command the attention of 20-odd 20-somethings for a week.

I don't save my discarded portions of used work, so I don't have discards to use for this exercise.

I'm terrible at using boundaries. The thought of being abandoned or discarded because I'm not ready to do something yet or because I don't want to do something terrifies me. I don't say no to people. I can't say no to people. I always do that which seems to make others happiest, from my work to my friendships and relationships. When I start to stand up for myself or establish boundaries, people leave me almost immediately. It's been such a pattern that I don't know how to escape it and live strongly and fully as myself with my needs and expectations clearly laid out. I don't say no. I can't. It leaves me alone and terrified.

I was 10 years old when she decided I wasn't worth her time. It was a simple misunderstanding which left me unmoored and alone, with a mother refusing to speak to me for days on end because I wouldn't follow her whims. All I wanted to do was not have to travel three hours one way multiple times per month for an activity I didn't want to dedicate my life to. I wanted to keep riding horses, I enjoyed it and found it interesting, but I didn't want it to be my profession. I didn't understand why she decided that meant I was not to be spoken to, that I was to be shunned, to be scorned, to be screamed at for hours on end. I didn't understand. I still don't understand. I don't understand why now, fourteen years later, you still stab at me for this. I don't understand why you refuse to hear me when I try to make amends or explain. It terrified me then. The memory of your fury still terrifies me now.

I don't have any true enemies, so I don't think there's anything I could really write to for this prompt.

[nancypullen]

Sunday Evening

I'm stretching out the last minutes of this day because I don't want to face another work week. Not because it's horrible, but because this weekend was so much fun. We drove up to Lancaster, stayed in a gorgeous hotel on Penn Square, spoiled ourselves with room service, and just had the best, most relaxing time. On the morning of day one we roamed around the city of Lancaster, spending a good amount of time at Central Market - sort of a huge farmer's market inside a historic brick building. It was hoppin'. Think of any tasty treat, from freshly churned butter to exotic spices and you can find it there. Amish bakeries rubbing shoulders with Cuban spiced meats, Irish stew served up in a booth next to Polish pierogies - you get the idea. Several local dairies offering raw milk, tempting cheeses of all sorts, logs of flavored butter,and so on. The aroma of the baked goods made Mickey weak at the knees. It was so crowded that we didn't even stay for lunch. We wanted to, but decided we'd keep exploring. So we did. I was surprised that Lancaster had such a young, hip vibe. I'm not sure why I expected it to be more staid and full of white-haired folks like us. It's a beautiful city of gorgeous old buildings housing cool new stuff. I loved it. This is a view of Central Market from our hotel room.

Anywho... We hopped in the car and headed out for Intercourse. Get your mind out of the gutter. Intercourse, Pennsylvania along with Bird-in-Hand, and Strasburg are all towns east of Lancaster that offer a peek into Amish life and lots of wonderful garden centers, farm stands, quilt shops, etc. I'm waiting for some of Mickey's photos of the beautiful Amish farms (every one neat as a pin), buggies traveling up and down the roads, and the stunning countryside. I spent a lot of time exclaiming, "I want to live here" Think Tyler and Jamie would drive an extra hour to see us? It's so beautiful. I did snap a few photos. We pulled in to take a peek at the library in Intercourse and I enjoyed the parking lot...

Reserved parking for library patrons...please clean up after your horses. I'll take their horse poop over our bedbug books any day.

We traveled through covered bridges that led us to pretty towns,

and it seemed like we bought a snack at every stop. There is no shortage of tempting treats in Amish country.

ON day two we explored Lititz, Ephrata, and the surrounding area. Mickey wanted to pop into the nation's oldest commercial pretzel factory - it's in an old stone building in the middle of Lititz.

So we had lunch on this street...

and then walked right around the corner and found the Julius Sturgis pretzel place.

Mickey chowed down on a fresh hot pretzel and I picked up some snacks to take home. I mean, how often can you buy dark chocolate dipped pretzels shaped like a horse and buggy?

I'm barely scraping the surface of the fun that we had. We made numerous stops at garden centers and greenhouses because my husband is nice enough to hit the brakes every time I gasp, "Plants!" My favorite stop was a big Amish operation named Reiff's. They had the healthiest plants I've ever seen, all grown in their greenhouses that looked like showrooms. The prices were rock bottom. I filled the back of the SUV for $21. Herb plants were just 99 cents! I also picked up some extra bee balm (always trying to lure more hummingbirds and butterflies) and odds and ends. Their displays were so unique. Check out the succulents growing out of this old sofa.

It's kind of equal parts pretty and creepy, isn't it? Like you might see it in an a creaky old mansion occupied by a witch. This chair is less creepy.

I could have spent hours at Reiff's. While I walked through the greenhouses, Mickey was inside their store buying sauerkraut. He knows the way to my heart. He also bought a big ol' jar of their peaches. The orchards are right there and they boast acres and acres of peaches, plums, and apples. We brought home last summer's peaches and they taste like they were picked yesterday. Heaven! No heavy syrup, just delicious fruit. Does is sound like all we did was eat? I swear that's not how it went. We had a ball going town to town and admiring the picturesque countryside between them. I'd love to see it in every season. Did I mention I could live there? Real estate is quite affordable, just sayin'. Okay, I'm shutting up. I still need to paint my nails and get a few things ready for work tomorrow. I'll be back to share more when I can get my hands on some of Mickey's pretty photos. I'll close by saying that Lititz was my favorite town, the Amish have no fear of carbs, there is a peaceful magic afoot in that corner of Pennsylvania, and my husband is still my favorite travel buddy. It was a perfect weekend. More soon. I have a few long days ahead, but I'll meet you back here for a chat. Sending you lots of love and a sincere wish that the week ahead is a good one for you. Treat yourself kindly. Stay safe, stay well. XOXO, Nancy

[thesefourwallsstory]

Part 1

It's a rainy Tuesday afternoon, I'm riding the train home from work as always. Thinking about the approaching bliss of being able to lay down in my bed; I doze off and begin monologuing. 

I suppose I should properly introduce myself, my name is Ren Fukushima, I’m pushing 23 and I’m caught up in an office job I’ll probably never get out of. I’ve got short black hair that stays relatively unkempt most of the time and my eyes are grey. My hope is to get a chance to return to university and study something that actually interests me, not like I actually know what that would be. To be totally honest though, I’m not sure what I want from my life, no matter how much money I may make I don’t think that’ll magically make me happy. I’ve spent the better half of 3 years in this apartment complex scraping together what I can to move out to a more urban area to hopefully get a better job. But, it looks like for now that's just a fruitless dream, my savings get eaten up any time something unexpected happens, like my phone deciding to break or my old laptop offing itself. I don’t get how some people do it, just put on a brave face and act like nothing is wrong, like they aren’t horribly dissatisfied with everything in their life. I’m still a young guy, not even 25 and I’m crippled by my lack of proper social interaction. I haven’t made any friends since leaving high school and God knows I’ve never been asked out. I’m a lonely, sad loser and at this point I don’t even receive pity.

 Without any warning, the outside noise slips into my head. "Now arr..... at .....oshi Station '' still half asleep I can hardly make out the words. "Last call for Togoshi Station '', "SHIT". I quickly scoop up my bag and rush to the exit, barely managing to squeeze through the doors before the train takes off. I catch my breath for a moment, pull out my umbrella, and begin making my way to my apartment. 

Oh god the apartment, the daydreams of a comfy night with peace and quiet are shattered as I recall the horrors of my next door neighbor and “his” awful, AWFUL guitar. I hurriedly make my way home and retire to my little slice of solitude before "he" gets home as well. I lay in my bed and scroll through Twitter, hoping desperately one or two of my few remaining friends will reach out to help keep me sane. But the messages never come and soon the thoughts in my head are replaced with a deafening silence. I lay still, hoping sleep takes me before either my thoughts overwhelm me or "he" does. 

My phone vibrates and for a moment I’m hopeful, then it turns out to be another spam text, “Ren-kun, I miss you sooooooo much, I just want you to touch me and………” it went on for a while with “her” telling me all sorts of things that no sane person would just say phishing for me to sign up for some scummy website where I’d find the “girl of my dreams”. Sure I’m lonely, but I’m not that lonely. 

My train of thought is suddenly violated by the sound of a truly awful timbre, “he” is home. Let me tell you about this guy, first off, as we've established, “he” is my neighbor, normally I don't mind my neighbors but this one, well he defied all my expectations. I thought being quiet and respectful to other tenants was just common courtesy but this man, he just doesn't know when to stop, he's loud and rambunctious, always talking like he wants the whole damn ward to hear him whenever he has someone over, which mind you, is nearly every day. He's always got one of his work buddies, drinking friends, or a girl over and he just doesn't know how to shut it. And don't even get me started on his guitar, that horrid instrument brings nothing but abject pain into my life. But I've run dry of the energy to mindlessly rant anymore, I've slept through those damn strings before, I'll do it again. Before I realize it, I’m already asleep.

[hournites]

Btw, you are my favorite fan fic author! I've read all of your works in AO3 at least twice!

First kiss prompt for hournite:

"you're blushing." "I know."

This is a very sweet message that has been making me smile all week! I love to hear that people are enjoying my stories. Thank you! And Happy New Year!

~.~

Rick dragged his books across his desk, unceremoniously dumping them into his bag at the end of his last class of the day. Beth took a more methodological approach beside him, sharpening her pencils before putting them into her pencil case so that they'd be ready when she'll need them tomorrow morning.

At the front of the classroom, Ms. Woods stood from her clock-cluttered table as more students filed out. She straightened her skirt and then directed a smile at both of them. "If you two aren't in a hurry, I was wondering if you could do me a favour."

For the most part, Rick had zero care to be doing any favours for any teacher at Blue Valley High, but as it would happen, Ms. Woods was about the only staff member at this school he looked up to, so Rick was already nodding.

Beth, also nodding, was constantly balancing a list of favours or errands for teachers between school periods. She was the type of student that teachers even trusted their wallets with. Already keen to help, Beth stood up. "What can we do for you, Ms. Woods?"

“As I’m sure you might know, my colleague, Mrs. Daniels, is expecting a little one by school year's end. We received a large shipment of new books for her reading curriculum, and they need to be placed in her storage room.” She turned to Rick. “The boxes are hefty and the shelves are rather high.” She turned to Beth. "And they could use some organization."

Rick shared a look with Beth. The corner of her mouth pulled upwards. Strength, height, and timely order. Definitely they were the right two for the job.

They were both walked to the pack of brown boxes lined up by one of the walls. The storage room was small, quiet and dusty. About a quarter the size of their math room with a tiny window showcases the courtyard's pavement. Ms. Woods returned with a large orange garbage bag, letting them know they could place worn books falling apart there for the librarians to suss out which were worth keeping.

Beth set out to work, pulling out cracked spines from the lower shelves as Rick came in back and forth carrying four to six boxes at a time.

"Thank you again," Ms. Woods said in that arrect tone of hers, buttoning up her rain coat. Outside, the light rain shower picked up as thunder rolled in. "I am sure Mrs. Daniels will appreciate this. Would you two be fine to stay here by yourselves?" Her question was aimed at Beth. "Rick is a fine boy, I trust him. You'll be in great hands."

Rick almost laughed overhearing the conversation from right out the door in the hallway. If she only knew that he spent almost every night alone with Beth at the Pit Stop.

"It's no problem, Ms. Woods!" Beth thumbed through a copy of The Great Gatsby. "I get along well with Rick. He drives me to school every morning."

That garnered a pause from their teacher. "Does he?"

"He's my best friend," Beth said. It was stupid, but something about hearing Beth say that so cheerfully put a smile on his face. Rick entered the room and set down another tall pile of boxes. "Halfway through." And a good thing, too. He wasn't sure there'd be much room for the two of them without playing elaborate live-action Tetris once all the boxes got in.

"Wonderful! Rick, would you mind driving Beth home? I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to look at the weather before asking you two to get started."

Rick leaned against the box pile with his elbow, his chin in hand. He followed Ms. Woods' gaze at Beth who was cleaning out the empty shelf, removing a dirty Kleenex with gingerliness. He started smiling at the way she raised to her tiptoes to reach the tops of the cubby, using the Kleenex to scrape off decades-old dust bunnies.

"Rick?"

His eyes snapped back to Ms. Woods, who was now tilting her head at him wryly. Rick reddened as she saw right through him. He ducked his head as the blush rushing to his face felt ten times hotter under her scrutiny. "Of course." He made a hasty exist, grabbing more boxes from the hallway so he'd have something to hide behind.

"Have a nice evening!" Beth waved as their teacher rounded the corner. Just when Rick thought that Ms. Woods had left, he found her still in the hallway in her long coat and ankle boots, looking at her watch. He slowed, knowing he couldn't ignore her as much as his embarrassment wanted him to. She stepped forward, a hand covering her mouth conspiratorially as she lowered her voice to a whisper. "You drive her to school every morning?"

"She's on the way!" Rick sputtered out. It was true, is the thing, but somehow he made it sound like a lie.

"Don't be too shy." Ms. Woods laughed lightly, grabbing her umbrella and leather briefcase full of ungraded tests. "She's a wonderful girl to have a crush on."

"Have a nice day, Ms. Woods," Rick said pointedly to get her to go.

"You too, Mr. Tyler," she chuckled, taking his cue to not poke fun at him any further and left down the hall. Rick rolled his eyes as he backed away with the book boxes. Beth might make it look good, but being friendly with teachers only had its upsides until it got absolutely embarrassing.

"How do you want to go about this?" Beth glided her hand over the shiny new book covers in the first box as he returned to the storage room with the last box. "Alphabetical by book title or author? By publishing date? We could also try by grade."

"Alphabetical by author," Rick said after a moment. "Whoever is teaching Shakespeare this year will thank us."

Beth stared right down at the packed yellow book sleeves for Much Ado About Nothing. "Good choice."

They got to work. Beth placed books in the lower shelf with as many she could hold at a time as Rick tore through taped boxes. It was silent, but it was busy silence, a type they were both comfortable with.

"I like Ms. Woods," she said suddenly, turning around to watch Rick shred up more cardboard with his hands.

"You like every teacher," Rick reminded her, cutting through plastic binding The Crucible. He almost shuddered just looking at the cover, pushing the box away. He had hated the book when they studied it in ninth grade. And when they were forced to watch the movie, not even Winona Ryder could make it bearable.

Beth scooped them up, putting Rick out of his misery, tucking them in order in the next shelf in front of Death of a Salesman. "True," she admitted. "But what I mean is that I like that she likes you."

"Oh."

She slotted the last book in then settled her hands on her hips, squatting down beside Rick in her geometrical tights to help him get through all the crinkling plastic for the recycling bin. "I like that she treats you the way other teachers treat their best students."

"You mean you?"

Beth stuck out her tongue. Rick grinned until it hurt. She'd never done that before, but now it was all he wanted to make her do. Stick her tongue out, make her tease him, roll her eyes at him, scoff one of her laughs as she pretended that he wasn't funny. Beth being playful for Rick, and Rick alone. That ache in his chest that inflamed every time she drew near grew in that moment and he had to squash it down, down down before it became unbearable.

"I think part of the reason why teachers ask students for favours is to show the community they respect those students not just with learning, but as a young adult going through life, and in that way, Ms. Woods needs to show you off."

"What? Show me off?"

"She's helping you with college applications, right?"

Rick nodded, meeting her eyes with his brows crinkled together, confused about Beth's thought process as he was most of the time, but genuinely curious to find out.

"Well, now she's going to tell Mrs. Daniels that you helped her reorganize her books, and then Mrs. Daniels is going to tell her work friends, and then the next thing you know, you'll be the talk of the teacher's lounge."

Rick made a funny face. "Pretty sure I already was when I was winning the streak for most detentions."

"But now it'll be for how thoughtful you are for staying after school to help do this. The teachers at Blue Valley are going to pay more attention to you. They'll see that you've changed."

"And this relates to college, how?"

"Because you need letters of recommendation for scholarships, Rick. From more than just one teacher."

Rick paused mid-shred the latest box in his hands, almost knocking down the tower of Lord of the Flies paperbacks beside him with his elbow. "What? Really? That's why you think we're here?"

Beth said, "It's just a hunch."

Rick stood, biting his cheek as he thought about it. He couldn't deny the thought felt nice. An elaborate scheme just to make more people like him. People don't like Rick. It's frustrating, but he's used to it. Thinking about a reality where that wasn't the case anymore in a general sense, not just his best friends sitting at lunch sense, was weird to think about. Weird, but nice.

He picked up the recycling bin overstuffed with cardboard and plastic. "I'm going to dump this out in the recycling room."

Beth nodded, continuing her latest task in filling out the F section.

When he returned, she was sitting on one of the tables cross-legged with a hardcover splayed open over her lap, shadowed by the dwindling light peeping through the tall window. Rick leaned against the doorway with his breath caught. He'd always thought she was beautiful. Whether it was her fashion confidence or the bright smile, or the warm shape of her poured into every crevice of her body, Rick wasn't sure. He'd never quite spent much time thinking about it at first. It crept over him slowly. But the way she sat now, beautiful and gentle in the quiet storage room drowning out the sound of pattering rain--it hit Rick like a storm. He crept up behind her, watching her finger slide along the sentence. "Reading break so soon?"

Beth jumped, clapping the book to her chest. She twisted around, glancing back at him with a smile. "This is one of my favourites." She tipped the cover forward. It was Fahrenheit 451. "Chuck--AI Chuck-- He read it to me in the library when I first joined the JSA. For the November English Lit assignment sophomore year with Mr. Leeds. It was the first time I..." She bit her lip, like she was worried what she might say would offend him. Rick waited, and she relaxed, choosing to be open. "The first time I didn't feel lonely at school."

His hand found her shoulder. What he really wanted was to hug her, but he held back. "Do you ever still feel that way?"

She covered his hand with hers, looking up at him again. "No. Not with you." They shared a smile. To Beth, it was probably just a fleeting second, a reassurance. To Rick, it meant the whole world. That ache returned full-force. Looking around, desperate for anything to distract him, he dropped his hand and took another Fahrenheit 451. He stared at the image of the paper man burning alive and flashed it at her with a smirk. "Hey look. I didn't know this book was about Jordan Mahkent."

Beth choked a gasp at his joke. A cross of horrified amusement and outraged disapproval flooded her features. "That's terrible!" With a small hop she was off the table, coming for him. "You didn't just say that!"

He chuckled. "You're laughing."

"No, I'm not!" Except that she was. He let her pry the book from his hands. She shot him more maddeningly cute glares as she grumbled...and somehow this had exactly the opposite effect he had originally planned. Spinning around, Rick craned his neck up at the taller shelves before he gave himself away.

"We should get on with these so we can get home."

Beth abandoned the Bradbury to drag over a peeling-white folded step-ladder, bundling a stack of Pride and Prejudice under her arm so she could use both hands to climb it.

Rick didn't want to say that he thought Beth was holding too many books, but he was definitely thinking it, watching from the corner of his eye at her struggle with the fact that even with the ladder the shelf was a tad too high. There was also the heights thing. Maybe she was acting like that wasn't a problem for her anymore. But her breathing was slightly off, and Rick knew from the time they went to the amusement park over the summer and skipped out on seven roller coasters that she definitely was still scared of heights.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good!"

Rick finished the shelf next to her by reaching up with his arm. The ladder wobbled and he quickly steadied it with his hand. "Are you sure?"

Beth sucked in a breath. She shifted her weight, reordering the stack in her arms. "Yes, I'm fine! I can handle a few minutes on a ladder."

"If you're sure."

"I am sure. I'm totally fine up here, and besides--Whoops!" She yelped as six books tumbled over her arms, and then her ladder was teetering again, and a much more panicked shriek accompanied her fall.

Rick dropped his copies of A Raisin in the Sun when the ladder crashed and he lurched over to grab her. He lost his balance and they both toppled over another near ceiling-high stack of boxes that set off another two mountains of Shakespeare books that Beth had already organized on the table. Thunder crashed the loudest it had all day as everything went down like dominoes. Rick landed on cardboard not-so-softly-cushioning his twinging back.

Beth landed on Rick.

She lifted her head. Those big brown eyes blinked fast at him, stunned as he was. Rick attempted to move, but he was sandwiched. Until Beth rolled off him he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't exactly know how to tell her this. And, worse, Rick didn't exactly mind being pinned by Beth, either.

"I was maybe not as fine as I thought," came Beth's small voice.

"That's okay."

They stared at each other. Beth's face was so near him, too near him. He felt warm all over, too hot, too much. Not enough, too. With his hands on her waist, her breath tickling his ear. Maybe Rick will just die here.

"Thanks for, um, catching me."

"I think it might be the other way around."

As if the thought only just now occurred to her, she gasped. "I'm on you!"

"...Yeah."

"I'm sorry!" Beth pulled herself up to her knees, still sitting over Rick on the floor. She lent him a hand and pulled him to a sitting position. She didn't get up. Rick was very aware of the way Beth didn't get up.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

She looked at him again and to Rick's surprise, bit her lip and looked away with a look he couldn't decipher.

"What?" he asked.

"Never mind."

"No, tell me." When Beth didn't say anything, he poked her. "You just fell on me, I think I can handle it."

She nodded and splayed her hands out on his shirt, letting out a tiny breath. Rick looked down, then looked up.

"Do you ever..."

Whatever Beth was going to say, Rick would never know. Like an aftershock after an earthquake, The Catcher and the Rye came down on them, knocking them flat again.

"Oh my god," Rick groaned through a laugh, rubbing at his head where a corner hit him. Beth couldn't help but join him, her whole body shaking with giggles. He rolled to his side, not letting the same skin-to-skin madness happen twice in a row.

But Beth pulled on his shoulder, bringing him back to her. "Wait," she said. And then she was threading her arms around his neck, pulling him to her, kissing him in a pile of books. Rick's hand found the curve of her jaw, bringing her closer, sitting on hard spines and pokey hardcover corners as all his thoughts mushed together into a single one that screamed this, yes. Beth kissed him and then kissed him, like she needed to study it for a test.

When the books became too uncomfortable and their limbs started to go numb, Beth broke apart first.

"You're blushing.”

"I know,” he said, smiling.

She cupped his cheek with bright eyes, tracing the flush that travelled there. "I've always wanted to do that."

"Make me blush?"

"Kiss you."

He tried to respond, but no noise came out. Not when she was touching his face, not when she had kissed him. Not when Beth was saying she always wanted to. She casted a glance to the side at the catastrophic mess. Rick followed her gaze. Beth sighed, never taking her hand from his face.

She smiled, not worried at all. "We've fixed worse."

fin.

[nat-20s]

!!!!! i hope you had fun at meow wolf!!! i live somewhat near the house of eternal return so i was just there last week! i love that place so much and it was such a pleasant surprise to see someone on tumblr talking about it!

I had SO much fun!!!!! My only regret is that I was scanning all the QR codes for the case files and I had talked to a staff member that was like "oh yeah one of them got scraped off so you'll have to go up and get it from the master list" and literally I was about ten feet out of the building and realized I had forgotten to do that so I only have 21 out of 23 documents now lol. also did not realize that if there was a qr code next to the documents then you could in fact later read those documents...i was there for six hours and I think I spent a solid two of said hours reading shit sadjdkadsjl. I also spent a good twenty minutes doing the light/stars puzzle and as I was doing the last three I had an audience of a family who were very excited about me succeeding and getting a little print out. Did not realize that you could give said print out to a staff member so I kept it as a souvenir in my wallet.

I've now been to two out of three Meow Wolfs (just need to hit up the vegas location: Omega Mart) and AUGH i love them so much. I'll definitely be going back to the house of eternal return sometime next year as my parents and I will likely do another Santa Fe Roadtrip when the weather is a bit warmer. I got asked whether I liked Convergence Station or House of Eternal Return better and I was like man idk!! Especially bc I experienced them in wildly different ways: Convergence Station with my 'rents and we were just there to like See Shit we didn't really try to follow the story much (we didn't even get the keycards lol) while I went to HoER solo and very much was trying to get all the story. (I got SO excited when I figured out why I kept seeing hamsters sdkfj). While they both have sci fi elements for sure Convergence Station felt more very specifically science fiction based while HoER was like a sci fi mystery. I think I'm sliiiighhtlly more biased towards Convergence Station but I think part of that might also be that it was my First experience doing quite that level of immersive art. (the closest I had ever come was like idk theme parks/escape rooms/ going to the san fran exploratorium when I was like ten [which does fuck btw])

Also semi related but imo I think if you can you should go to everyone Meow Wolf location twice: once to kinda of get an overview and just look and touch and feel (this is ideal if going with other people) and one to like. THOROUGHLY explore and try to get as many pieces of the puzzle as you can and read stuff and watch stuff (this one is ideal solo so you can really go at your own pace: i literally spent an hour in one room!)

Anyway tldr House of Eternal Return is extremely fun and cool and if any of y'all have the opportunity to go to any of the Meow Wolfs and you like Weird and Fantastical shit (which I assume you do if ur on this webbed site following me tbh) you ABSOLUTELY should and I would recommend making a whole day of it tbh. Uhh both Britney Spears and Megan Thee Stallion have gone and they had fun so you probably will too. Also highly recommend in general to make weird art that makes ur heart go !!!!! like everyone who works on the meow wolf displays clearly does!!!

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

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[shortpeople-probs]

Not a meme but I’ve decided to try and devote more time to things I’m passionate about. One of the things I’ve been longing to pick back up but just haven’t is fic writing or writing in general. I started a new SessKag fic which is exciting because I’ve never done a multi-chapter fic that wasn’t a reader insert! If anyone has suggestions, I’d be more than happy to hear them since I am getting back into writing after a four year break

Title: The Other Side of the Bone Eater’s Well

Summary: Kagome was once weighed down by an important decision. Should she stay with her family in the feudal era or return to the one waiting for her on the other side of the well? It had taken her days to decide what to do, her heart tugging towards both sides painfully. It wasn't until after she had slung her legs over the edge and leapt into the well that she realized that the time spent mulling over right decision was pointless.

The choice was never hers to make.

Tags: Warrior AU, Slow Burn, this fic is a work in progress but it will have some heavy themes that readers may be uncomfortable with, obligatory I’m sorry for formatting issues, I’m on mobile

A section of Chapter 1: Dirt caked under fingernails that grew increasingly more fragile with every inch that Kagome scaled. Determination laced her face as long, skilled fingers instinctually scrambled to find purchase along the stone and muscular arms hefted her body up and away from the skeleton-littered ground. Her jaw tensed as she noticed the growing fatigue that pulled at her body in a way that she had not felt in years. She was deftly aware of the weight that her armor pushed against her, something that she had not noticed in a long time. Still, she climbed, gritting her teeth against the shock of her burning shoulders and arms.

Kagome noticed that the bangs which had been neatly bound began to grow and loosen from their tight hold. Her military-esque bun began to sag as her hair continued to grow at the same alarming pace that her strength seemed to drain. Unbeknownst to her, the deep scars that had been ground into the skin beneath her heavy armor began to fade alongside her waning strength. Her physical appearance was changing, morphing into something that was both uniquely her and horrifically not. She began to thin slightly, the hard edge of each muscle began to soften minutely and the recent injuries that both marred and defined her dulled until her skin was completely free of them, with the exception of those that she was gaining as she climbed.

The callouses that had decorated Kagome's hands and fingers seemed to vanish as well. Blood seeped from new wounds and Kagome had to stifle a gasp as her weakening body responded negatively to the harsh stone. A battle between needing to conceal her presence, to scale the Well with pristine stealth, and to curse the Well for whatever it had done to her played out for a brief moment before she coldly dismissed the latter from ever being an option. Survival made stealth a necessity, and if she were killed after six years because she couldn't handle a few scrapes then her training would have been for nothing. The lives of those she had held close, who believed in her to forge a new future and to protect those that would be left behind in the wake of their deaths, would have been lost for nothing. With one last push, Kagome dug the heel of her left foot into a small divot in the stone and lurched upwards until her fingers curled over the edge of the Well. With the utmost grace and poise, she launched herself over crumbling stone and into the lush but empty clearing.

No one was there to greet Kagome as she rose from Bone Eater's Well but that did not mean that her arrival went unnoticed. She crouched low to the ground, brown eyes scouring the grass for any signs of life and taking note of the fact that there was grass at all. When she was satisfied that there was no human nearby, she sent out a probing quiver of reiki to look for the presence of youki. She nearly gave up until she found one small trace nearby. It was clear that the trace did not belong to a lesser youkai but rather, belonged to that of an extremely powerful one that knew how to nearly erase its presence to avoid detection. Narrowing her eyes, Kagome wrangled in the sense of unease that threatened to wash over her and she continued her search. Further out, in the direction that she knew Edo to be, Kagome found another small pulse of youki. While it was as weak as the small shred of youki she had just found, she knew that this trace did not belong to a powerful youkai. She rose fractionally once she discovered no other hints of youki, fingers dancing over where the hilt of her Tetsusaiga should be. Her fingers ran over nothing and the unnerve that she had felt by the presence of grass in the clearing and the existence of a powerful youkai grew tremendously. This concern was highlighted by the sound of two voices steadily heading in her direction. And the clearing was exactly that, it was nearly devoid of any trees and the amount of hiding places was limited to that of the bottom of the Well. Jumping down there would not only likely break her legs, but it would leave her cornered.

"Kagome?" Her thoughts stopped. She felt as though her brain short-circuited. The small voice was far away, but it wasn't far enough away that Kagome couldn't recognize the sound as it carried in the wind. Turning slightly, hand now resting on the hilt of a dagger, Kagome positioned herself to receive the owner. Standing there, what seemed like both miles and mere paces away, was Shippo. Behind him stood a young but mature human female, but in front of Kagome was her Shippo.

-

You can read the rest here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210703/chapters/71722371

Notes: I have not written in a long time, not seriously. I'm sorry if you don't like my story. I've had this idea in my head since I discovered @youkaiyume’s warrior AU. In case, for whatever reason, I don't finish this story the premise and a vague outline will be included at the bottom to try and make this make a bit more sense. Just a note: I have not watched InuYasha in years. I plan on binge watching it at some point but the majority of my knowledge comes from reading fanfics or from looking up stuff. If something is wrong, please tell me so I can fix it.

Thanks for taking the time to read this ungodly long post

[whitewolfandthefox]

I've run out of words my song. Jaskier X reader, super angsty? Maybe reader spent loads of time helping Jaskier with his lyrics and rhymes and is now dying in his arms after they were attacked by something?

Prompt: I’ve run out of words, my song

Summary: Jaskier x reader; an attack leaves you wounded, Jaskier desperate to get you help.

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: whole lot of angst, major character death, description of injuries

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A/N. This is a sad one, not gonna lie guys. It was not very happy to write, I apologize for the angst in advance

My Song

You doubled over, tears running down your face as you clutched at your stomach, aching as you laughed at Jaskier’s joke. The bard grinned at you, delighted at your reaction to his comment. You gripped his shoulder, leaning on him as you gasped for air, lungs protesting at your actions. It took a few minutes, but you eventually calmed down, wiping your face with a handkerchief handed to you by your lover. He took your hand, squeezing it gently as you recovered, his arm supporting you as you wheezed slightly, grinning up at him brilliantly.

“It really wasn’t that funny, love.” He admonished you, ignoring the stares the two of you were getting from travellers passing by.

“Fine, if that’s what you would like, darling. It was a terrible joke, and I laugh out of pity rather than amusement. Is that more to your liking?” You poked him in the chest, fake pouting as he pretended to recoil, hand covering where you poked him as a wounded expression came over his face.

“Wounded, by the love of my life, of all people! How could you betray me like this?” Jaskier keeled over backwards, arms flailing as he caught your shoulder, tugging you down into the grass with him as he fell. The two of you had ventured out to a small hill just outside of the town you were in, packing a lunch of cheese, bread, and wine. You were content to spend the afternoon in the quiet before having to perform that evening. 

Jaskier had been invited to perform for a nobleman in town, he was having a celebration for his daughter’s birthday and she had requested the famous bard perform at the feast. Jaskier had of course accepted, especially after hearing of the offer of free lodging and meals while there. You had joined him, having begun to perform with him, the two of you getting along like pigs in mud. The two of you had met at Oxenfurt; Jaskier had been at the university to give a guest lecture and you had been there for a performance. You were a master violinist and composer; you had been debuting a song cycle you had written for an ensemble.

The male bard sought you out and the two of you had hit it off, spending many nights in the pub before eventually falling into bed together. When it had been time for Jaskier to leave he had pleaded with you to come with him, and to both of your surprise you had accepted. You had never really travelled as a bard before, preferring to reside in your hometown and only venture out for performances. You were in fairly high demand, but had decided that you could use this time to compose. You had followed the bard to meet up with the Witcher, your quiet demeanor seeming to help Geralt accept you into the little group fairly quickly; you weren’t as loud and obnoxious as Jaskier was at times. You still plucked at your instrument each night, but it was quiet, sometimes soothing. 

Jaskier would often join you, and the two of you began performing together at inns. You didn’t often sing, your voice was fine, but you preferred to play your instrument, to let Jaskier have the spotlight. When you found yourselves playing for the upper class, you would perform a few songs of your own, the ladies enjoying listening to the higher tones of your violin before Jaskier took over again with a dancing tune. 

It was the same pattern this evening; Jaskier and yourself performing some of his better known songs before you took center stage as you played your own compositions. The birthday girl performed her song on the piano, the audience politely applauding as you joined her, playing a duet that both of you knew before you performed another one of your originals. As a new round of wine and ale was served, Jaskier took the stage to perform faster paced tunes, you retreating to the side for a break of your own. As you moved through the room you were stopped a few times as people congratulated you on your performance. You felt your cheeks flush at the praise, never having been comfortable with the attention before escaping to the corner your pair had claimed. 

A serving girl was quick to stop by with a plate of food and drink for you as you settled your instrument back in its case. You tucked into your meal, enjoying the food as you watched Jaskier stir the crowd into a frenzy, the uptight lords and ladies relaxing as the booze flowed and the night grew darker. You always enjoyed when he played, watching his nimble fingers work the strings on his lute, listening to his clear voice dance over the melody. Jaskier was a master showman and he knew it; drawing the crowd in before releasing them to enjoy whatever he launched into next.

Break finished, you rejoined your lover, your bow dancing over the strings as you harmonized with Jaskier’s folk songs, foot tapping along to the beat as the dancers whirled around the room. You watched the skirts swirl past you, catching on dancers’ legs as they passed each other, boots stomping the stone floor in time with the song. The room grew warm, the smell of sweat and spilled booze growing strong. The two of you played until the early mornings, finally staggering back to your assigned room once the last of the drunks and late night lovers had made their way from the ballroom.

You tiredly turned your back to Jaskier, silently asking him to unlace your dress. You shivered as his finger released you from the cloth, dropping it to the floor before coming back up to whisper down your bare skin. You felt your hair swept from your back before his lips pressed into your shoulder, teeth nipping at the skin as you gasped. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to your skin, making his way up your neck to behind your ear, teeth scraping at the spot that always made you melt.

You were suddenly whirled as your back was pressed against the wall, the wood cold against your skin as slender fingers caught your wrists, Jaskier holding your arms above you. You sighed as you felt a knee shoved between your legs, heat pooling in your core at the action. Lips met yours, a messy kiss as you fought for dominance. You finally relinquished control as the bard dominated, hard body pressing against yours, tongue exploring your mouth. Your wrists were pushed together, one hand pinning them as the other came down to grip your hip, digging bruises into the skin. 

A squeak was drawn from you as Jaskier lifted you, legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you over to the bed, teeth nipping at the crook of your shoulder as he made his way over to the bed. He dropped you on the mattress, climbing after you once his clothes were shed, body covering yours as his thighs straddled your hips, his mouth chasing your lips. You lost yourself in a blaze of pleasure, the feeling of skin on skin as hands explored familiar places, the night passing in a blur of skin, sweat, and dirtied sheets, your bodies never leaving each other as the two of you lapsed into sleep.

**~*~*~*~**

It was a late start the next morning, the entire keep slow to wake up after a night of partying. You and Jaskier took a late breakfast in the common eating area before Jaskier charmed a lunch out of the cooks. You had laughed behind your hand, grinning down at the table to hear the verbose gestures that the bard was making. You set out a little bit later, Jaskier lamenting the loss of feather beds and warm water to bathe in.

“But think of the stories you will write once we see Geralt again, I’m sure his last contract was interesting.” The Witcher had been talking about an Alp before you left, a substantial reward being offered once the creature was disposed of. The two of you would meet up with him at an inn in the next town over before continuing your journey. Geralt generally had a direction in mind, you and Jaskier wandering behind him.

The day was a beautiful one, the clouds slowly passing through the serene sky. The birds sang in the trees, you smiling up at the flashes of colour that flitted through the branches around you. Jaskier sang under his breath as he walked next to you, fingers laced together as you swung your arms between you. Your attention was pulled upward, murmuring an invocation to the gods in thanks of the day.

You and Jaskier had been walking for hours, deciding to stop for a brief lunch before continuing. The two of you settled underneath the shadows of the trees, your head in your lover’s lap as you relaxed on the cool ground. You peered up at him, a soft smile on your face as you watched him, Jaskier writing notes into his little notebook he always carried with him. He was always writing, your bard, inspiration hitting him at any moment. He was your muse, your song, everything you had composed over the last few months of travelling had revolved around him.

Your recent composition started off sweet, following the soft sounds of young love, slowly growing to a crescendo of passion. Lovers clashed, the melodies and harmonies alternating with each other as they slowly weave together to fall low, doubts and troubles weighing on a relationship. The music went dark, the lower pitch enhanced by the fear and desperation that was felt as lovers pulled away, flames died out and relationships ended. Just as it felt as if nothing would end happily, a lone flute sang out above the heaviness, crying out for the gentle notes of love as it fought to overcome the differences. Slowly, other instruments would join in, the tone lifting as the feeling of reconciliation wound itself in, the harmonies twisting around the melody once more, complimenting each other just as lovers do. 

You hadn’t written past that point, intending to take your music into a high crescendo, fondness and trust underlying the notes as you slowed the rhythm, a soft beat finishing off the cycle with a gentle, loving tune. It was some of your best work, you thought, and you were so excited to finish it. You hadn’t shared it with anyone, wanting to to have the complete works and to be able to play it in concert, nothing else would do it justice. You wanted to play it for Jaskier, to sit in the front row with your violin, show him just how much you loved him.

You drifted for what felt like hours, Jaskier’s hands playing with your hair soothing you as you fell into a doze. It was the silence that finally brought you back to awareness, the absence of the songbirds the first warning you got that something had gone wrong. You sat up, frowning at the trees as you looked around for what might have caused the birds to take flight. The bard looked as well, years of travelling with Geralt teaching him what to watch for.

You stood silently, Jaskier rising behind you as your hand went to the dagger you wore at your side, unsheathing the blade before holding it loosely in your hand. Neither of you were fighters, staying as far away from Geralt’s hunts as you could. Jaskier would sometimes get closer, but the Witcher didn’t often allow it, preferring to know that the both of you were safe and he could focus just on the monster and not on protecting the two of you. That didn’t mean you were entirely defenseless; Geralt had spent many hours teaching you and Jaskier the basics of defense, in case you were ever in a situation like this. 

You heard a twig snap behind you, whirling around as you searched for the source of the sound. You felt Jaskier place his back against yours, also looking for any indication of whatever was now hunting you. You felt more than heard something drop from the trees above you, shoving the man behind you out of the way before you dove away yourself, feeling claws rake down your arm as you moved, opening thin lacerations in your skin.

You turned to see a pale human-like thing in front of you, long claws hanging from its fingertips as it stalked towards you. You could see its ribs, the bones outlined by the translucent skin that clung to its figure. As you backed away, you searched your mind for what monster this was, trying to remember the sketches Geralt had shown you. You gasped silently as the name came to you. This was the creature the Witcher had gone to hunt, the Alp. What had happened to him, that it had managed to find you?

The thoughts were pushed from your head as the thing slashed at you, barely managing to dodge as you spun out the way, feeling claws grasp at your tunic. As you turned back to face it, you could see Jaskier slowly moving behind it, his own dagger gripped tightly in his hand. Desperate to keep its attention as he moved into position, you lifted your blade, tightening your fingers before you darted forward, stabbing with the blade before ducking under an arm.

You backed away, trying to keep the Alp distracted but also trying to stay out of striking distance. You were fairly successful until you tripped on a root, falling backwards as your hands went out to catch you. You closed your eyes, waiting for the strike that was sure to come. You heard a shout, eyes flying back open at the lack of impact to see Jaskier waving his dagger at the monster, terror clear on his face as it advanced towards him.

As you stood, you saw his eyes flicker towards you, a brief flash of relief passing over his expression as he saw you standing before he refocused on the Alp, yelping when it swiped at him, claws managing to catch the fabric of his doublet, tearing through it as easily as a hot knife through butter. You saw red, a haze of rage settling over you at the sound of your lover’s fear. You ran forward before jumping, sinking your dagger into the creature’s shoulder with a yell. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it hurt Jaskier.

The creature shrieked as your silver blade pierced its skin, whirling to dislodge you. Your body went flying, breath leaving you in a rush as you hit a tree, sliding down the trunk to land in a heap at the base. The Alp was on you before you could regain your bearings, claws tearing through your clothes and into your skin as a cry burst from your lips.

“Y/N!” You distantly heard, the monster suddenly gone from in front of you, replaced by a concerned looking Jaskier. You groaned as his hands clamped down on your shoulder, feeling the blood slide down your skin as it soaked the cloth.

“Come on, we have to go while it's distracted.” With the bard’s help, you stood, shakily leaning against him. A groan left your lips as you took a step, the pain flaring at the movement. You looked over to see the monster writhing on the ground as it clawed at its eyes, a shimmering powder on it’s skin. 

“Silver powder, it’s my last resort.” Jaskier had followed your gaze to the monster, a wry grin on his face, which was quickly replaced by concern as you collapsed slightly before catching yourself. He slung your uninjured arm over his shoulder, trying to support as much of your weight as possible.

You were in agony, it felt like there were red hot knives digging into your skin, poking and prodding to get further and further under your skin. You could feel yourself getting weaker as blood rushed forth, slowly soaking the sleeve of the dress you had chosen. You felt a pang of sadness at that, this was one of your favourite gowns, Jaskier had always mentioned how much he loved that colour on you.

You don’t know what alerted you to the movement behind you, as lost as you were in the pain. You turned your head slightly to see a white wraithlike creature bearing down on you, claws raised to slash. Too weak to get a warning out, you let your arm drop from your lover’s shoulder before staggering to the side, legs threatening to collapse. Sensing the weaker prey, the Alp followed you, arm coming down to rake down your chest and abdomen. A scream tore its way from your lips, mixing with Jaskier’s cry to form a discordant sound, the harsh notes ringing in your ears.

As you fell to the ground, you distantly observed the flash of a sword as it rose and fell, the Alp’s head falling with it. A silver hair framed the face that appeared in your vision, golden eyes filled with concern before it was replaced by a blue-eyed one. You smiled up at Jaskier, coughing slightly as the pain made itself apparent. You felt something run down your chin, though you didn’t have the strength to reach up and wipe it away. You felt yourself being pulled upwards, body propped into a half-seated position as the bard held you in his arms, back against his shoulder.

A hand appeared in your vision, pressure building on your chest. You struggled to move your head, managing to look down to see cloth pressed against your abdomen, quickly staining with your blood. You let your head fall backwards, gasping for breath as you choked, spitting the liquid in your mouth out as you fought for air. Jaskier’s face was full of agony, tears running down his cheek as he spoke, the words slowly filtering through the haze of exhaustion that was quickly overcoming you.

“-awake, please Y/N, you have to hold on - to get Roach - need to get you to a healer-” you could hear the agony in his voice as he begged you, pleaded with you to stay with him. You hated to hear his beautiful voice break, frowning as he choked on a sob. Your partner should never sound like this, should never have the hurt that was on his face. You wanted to console him, fighting to move any of your limbs in order to do so. You fought against the heaviness, wanting to tell Jaskier that you were okay.

Using every ounce of willpower you had left in you, you raised your hand to cup his cheek, seeing the red fingerprints you left on his skin. You attempted a smile, trying to look reassuring as you felt more liquid slide down your skin, coughing to try to clear your airway. “I’ve run out of words, my song is done. Continue to sing, my love, to tell your stories. Remember me that way.”

Exhausted, you let your hand fall away, eyes closing as you heard Jaskier sob, his body shaking against you as he clutched at you, begging you to “stay awake, please, open your eyes, you can’t go, I love you, I need you-”

**~*~*~*~**

Geralt returned with Roach, having run to find her and the healing supplies in his pack. As he entered the clearing, he froze at the sight of Jaskier clutching your body to him, his entire frame shaking with the force of his sobs. Moving towards his friend, he bowed his head and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, trying to support him through this time, a single tear running down his cheek.

The bard continued to plead with you, beg you to wake up, to come back to you, but you remained limp. You lay motionless in his arms, face serene in death as you left behind broken hearts and an unfinished song.

**~*~*~*~**

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[childrenoflight-darkness-nothing]

Boots crunched in the fallen leaves as the wind howled overhead. Jace pushed the hood of eir cloak back off eir head as ey approached the castle, one hand tightened its grip on the sword sheathed at eir waist. Ey’d had every intention of marching right into the castle, confronting the beast inside, and demanding the release of the village girl that’d been taken. But now that ey were faced with it…. towers and spires looming high overhead. Jace thought that maybe ey should’ve put more thought into it. Planned more. Talked a few of the other villagers into helping.

Of course most would’ve laughed. Just as they had at the girl's mother when she’d stumbled into the tavern, begging and pleading for anyone to help her. My daughter, my darling Faye, please. Anyone…

The tavern’s occupants had mocked her, laughed and scoffed at her claims of a beast in a castle as they’d cast the old woman out and into the cold. But Jace had been there. Tucked into a corner while ey enjoyed a silent meal and a book out of sight and out of everyone’s mind.

Jace had been there, and ey’d recognized the desperation in the old woman’s eyes.

So ey’d followed her outside, offered a hand and pulled the woman out of the snow. A beast, she’d explained. Great and terrible. We’d been caught in the storm… The door fell open when we knocked, and the place looked abandoned… Inside we went, hoping for some shelter from the worst of it. He took us both, and my Faye promised she’d stay with him, without a complaint… Should he let me go.

I didn’t want to leave her, but I had to get help. Please. Please, say you’ll help me. She’s all I have.

And so Jace had promised. And had made the trek to the once grand Frostbane castle on foot, through the snow and the cold with little more than the sword on eir hip.

Towers loomed overhead, a dull grey in the day's dying light. Vines crept over nearly every spire, twisted and climbing to reach for the sun. Stones cracked and pathways overgrown from years unkempt.

Jace had heard stories of the castle. How it seemed a place that had always been. Not quite remembered, but never completely forgotten. Though it’s residents… and what had happened to leave it in such disarray no one could say. It seemed it was always a crumbling force, waiting to be forgotten and swallowed back into the earth.

But there were also stories of the music you could hear if you crept on paths close. A haunting violin. Solo in its sorrow. Melodies drifting without a home or source through the surrounding forest.

Some claimed the work of faeries. A cruel enchantment meant to draw you in and ensnare. Others thought ghosts. The memories of whoever the castle had homed before, yearning in sorrow for a different time.

Jace had never believed the tales. Though ey thought ey might start as ey climbed the stairs that led to the front door. Roses were carved into the stone pillars that held up the castles front. Frost encrusted the stony petals.

Ey unsheathed eir sword as they neared the door, unsure of what would be waiting for em on the other side. And unsure of whether ey should knock, or just barge right in.

The decision was made for them as the door swung open, hinges creaked and dust scraped against the flooring. Ey took a breath, and lowered the hand ey’d had held up in question, ready to knock. Another breath, and ey straightened eir stance. One nod of eir head and Jace strode right through the door, sword in hand and determined. Surely you can take one beast.

The last light of day filtered inside through dusty windows, it offered the only source of brightness in the castles main hall.

“That’s not creepy at all,” ey muttered as ey strode deeper into the castle. Finding an ornate clock, with gears made out to resemble a face.

Ey picked it up from its place perched on top of a small table, so ey could study it closer. Eir curiosity winning out for a moment over eir mission as ey marveled at the lack of dust on the furniture. Beside it rested a small candelabra, and Jace wished not for the first time since entering the castle that ey had some matches.

“You know,” a voice called, and Jace spun around to face the room. “It’s not polite to stare,” the voice continued, sounding as if it was behind em now.

“Nor is it polite to pick people up without asking first,” the clock added coming to life in eir hand and sounding disgruntled.

Jace took one look at the moving face and nearly dropped it, instead ey merely flung it down on to the table. “What are you?”

“Not a what,” the clock scoffed while it brushed it’s sides with what Jace had thought were merely decorations. Instead the wood shifted and moved like arms. “But a who. My name is Dragon.” Gears twisted into a frown as the clock looked around, seemingly unfazed by the sword in its face.

“I was supposed to introduce myself first, we agreed,” the voice from before spoke up again with a pout, and Jace realized it was coming from the candelabra.

Ey stepped back, raised eir sword higher and tried to ignore eir thundering heart as the two argued.

“We did no such thing,” Dragon glanced towards the candlestick, arms crossed over their chest.

“But we did.”

“Well, I've introduced myself already. So just get over it, and tell our guest your name. You’re being rude.”

“Hmmph.” The candelabra crossed his arms over his chest for a moment before turning to Jace with a waxy grin. “Caelum, mademoiselle. A pleasure to be at your service.” His words were spoken with a flourish as he extended a candle in Jace’s direction, like one would a hand in polite greeting.

Jace lowered eir sword, but remained standing a few feet away as ey blinked at the sight before them. “You’re enchanted,” ey said after a moment, all other words failed em.

“Enchanted to meet you,” Caelum said with a wink before Dragon lightly smacked him with a wooden arm.

“Cursed more like,” Dragon muttered. “What is it that brings you to our humble home?”

Jace blinked at the obvious change of topic, ey opened and closed eir mouth as ey struggled to find the words. It had been so simple. Eir plan. Storm the castle. Save the girl. And get back on the road without much time lost. But here ey were. Talking, or at least attempting to talk, to furniture.

“I was told of a girl,” ey finally settled on. “One that’d been taken prisoner by a horrid beast in this castle.”

The pair blinked before glancing at each other.

“A prisoner?” Caelum questioned in a hushed tone. “Did you see the master take a prisoner?”

“No, did you?” Dragon shook their head. “I haven’t,” they repeated.

“A girl? What girl?”

They spoke back and forth for a moment longer. And Jace was just about to leave them to their conversation, convinced ey’d have better luck finding the girl on eir own, when Dragon turned to face em again. “If it’s a prisoner you’re after, they’d be in the dungeons… though those havent been used in ages. But perhaps you’ll find what you’re looking for, and can be on your way before the master finds you.”

“Wait,” Caelum whispered to the clock, though none too quietly. “What if she’s the one…?”

“I doubt that, it’s not likely to be the first girl to step foot in the castle in five years.”

“But what if she-”

“Eir,” Jace interjected, biting eir lip. It was quite obvious he was speaking about em, even if he was making an attempt to be quiet. “Eir… not she, please. And what if I’m the what?”

“Of course,” Dragon bowed. “Our apologies. And you really needn’t worry yourself with that, he’s mistaken. To the dungeons if you please… captain.” They paused, looking Jace over before settling on the title.

Eir stance, and how ey carried eirself. Tunic and breeches, though simply spun and nothing near the finary a guard captain would normally wear, bore the mark of one of the neighboring towns insignia, styled in the way only a captain would bear. Dragon may have been years spent hidden away in isolation, but they could still recognize a guard and eir station if they saw one.

Jace merely nodded towards the clock, a short clip of eir head as ey gestured for them to lead the way. Dragon straightened their posture and jumped off of the table before Jace could do much more than lean forward to attempt to catch him. Worried he might break. But Dragon landed on the castle’s stone floors with nothing more than a loud thump, Caelum not far behind.

Ey blinked, watching the pair jump down the halls for a moment before ey found it in eirself to follow. Ey shook eir head, mumbling to eirself, “how did life get so strange?”

Caelum hopped a few steps down the hall before he turned, waving at Jace to follow. “Come! To the dungeons!”

“Quiet!” Dragon scolded in a hushed tone. “You’ll alert the master.”

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Set Me Ablaze

Words: 3643

Genre: smut, slight angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Kai x reader

A/N: Part 2 of Playing With Fire

And happy Birthday, cousin (part 1)

"What--" You blink, gaping at him like a fish. "What the hell are you doing here?" 

Jongin stands at the open door, a bucket hat pulled low over his face that was covered by a mask. You can only see his eyes but it's enough as you demand, "How'd you even find this place?" 

He rolls his eyes. "We may not be in technologically advanced Korea but I can pay someone to find out your friend's flat, Y/N." 

He pushes past you and enters, leaving you to close the door in bafflement. You turn towards him and cross your arms.

"Stop lying," you say, blankly, noticing how he wasn't meeting your gaze, a tell-tale sign. "You know I live here." 

He looks up at you then. "I know. I just said that so you wouldn't freak out and run away again." 

"You lying freaks me out, Jongin," you admit wryly. "Don't lie for my peace of mind. In all our years together, it was the one thing you never did. Don't... don't change that too." 

"Too?" He was silent as he listened but at the last statement, he raises an eyebrow. "So you think I've changed?"

It's your turn to stay silent now. 

Jongin steps forward, eyes trained on you. "How have I changed? In a good way or a bad way?" 

At this, you raise your eyes to glare at him. Your tone is sharp as you snap, "I don't know, Jongin, all we had was a quick fuck and not exactly a heart-to-heart conversation so how the hell should I know about that?" 

A shuffling noise sounds to your left and you turn in that direction to see Sera tossing on your couch where she had passed out last night in a drunken heap.

"We can change that," you hear his voice say softer now, your gaze shifting back to him. Jongin's eyes search your face as he says, "We got the quick fuck out of the way so now let's... have a heart-to-heart." 

"I don't--" You started loudly before stopping and glancing at Sera who whined in her sleep, throwing the blanket over her head. Sighing, you mumbled in exasperation, "I don't have anything to say to you, Jongin. I'm too exhausted to even see you to the door so please just leave." 

You don't wait for a response and turn to head for your bedroom. You push the door open and make a beeline for the bed, climbing on top of the pillows.

"Y/N." 

You look up to see Jongin standing at your door, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes watch you. You curl your legs underneath yourself, tugging on the oversized tee that you were wearing to cover whatever you could although it was pointless--if you pulled anymore, you're sure the material would rip. 

Your eyes absentmindedly rake over Jongin, a similar plain tee hanging over his frame. You couldn't see the bucket hat and mask anywhere and you assumed he'd left it on the table or somewhere else in the living room.  

In all the time that you'd spent together, you'd always loved seeing Jongin's bare no-makeup face. After all the hectic schedules and the few days that you got together--fewer still when you two didn't argue--it was one of your favourite things: to wake up to his sleeping natural face. You'd always felt lucky to be one of the few that got to see it.

And now, after last night, you felt that same feeling as you see him now without all the eyeshadow, lip tint and blemish-free makeup. 

Still so beautiful.

You swallow thickly. "Aren't you going to leave?" 

He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at you. "Are you going to leave? Which country will it be this time?" 

You don't say anything, suddenly feeling small at the way he was glaring at you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

"I hate that you did that," Jongin admits, his voice sounding strained with pain. Your eyes are focused on his as he continues, "It hurt more than anything you ever said to me. I'm not a stalker, Y/N, you don't... you don't have to be afraid of me. I stopped searching for you after the second time, when I ran into you at Thailand and you left that night itself. That wasn't even intentional, by the way. I had a photoshoot and running into you at that market was the last thing on my mind." 

Your eyes blur at his confession and you blink quickly, feeling a lump form in your throat. There was a dull ache in your chest as you imagined all the things that could have run through his mind at your antics. 

"I didn't--" You stop, clearing your throat. "I didn't do it cause I was afraid of you, Jongin. I did it cause I was afraid that I would run back to you. I needed time... and space. It was all I could think of." 

"Besides," you added, glancing at him. "The reason I left that night itself was cause I'd only arrived a few days prior. I hadn't even unpacked yet so it was easier to leave. It's not cause I was that adamant to leave. Or cause I was afraid of you. Or thought you were a stalker." 

The words hang in the air between you two uselessly and you want to say something to make it better but you know there isn't anything much to say. Tears prick at your eyes at the realisation that you had hurt him by running away. You'd never given him an explanation, not when you left your shared apartment nor at Japan or Thailand. As much as it hurt, he deserved at least an explanation. Some form of closure. 

Jongin was watching your face and as if he could read your mind, he asked softly, "Did it help?" 

You blink. "What?" 

"All the running you did. Did it help? Are you happy now?" He hesitated. "Happy over me?" 

Your heart crumbled. You felt your lower lip quiver and Jongin immediately strode forward, grabbing your hands as you tried not to cry.

"No," you choked out, shaking your head as you stared at your joined hands. "I'm not, you idiot. It killed me everytime I saw you plastered across some magazine and billboard but seeing you at the concert last night was hell. I thought it wouldn't hurt but it did and it only got worse after I left the club."

You felt Jongin still at that, his fingers tightening around yours. "So you regret it then?" 

You raise your head to look at him and he prodded, "You regret what happened last night at the club?" 

You sniffled, your voice soft as you reply, "Only cause I had to leave." 

"No one asked you to," he defended. "You didn't have to leave, Y/N." 

You're already shaking your head, starting to say, "You know I had to--" 

"No." His tone is firm and final that it stops the words at your throat as he continues, "No, I don't know if you had to. What I know is that I hated you for leaving. I always imagined you leaving that day, how much you must have despised me that you left me with an empty apartment to come home to, no explanation or even a note. And yesterday, I saw it." 

"Jongin--" 

"I'm not over you, Y/N," he admitted, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I know you're not either. I thought I was fine but when I saw you last night, I wanted you. Not just for a 'quick fuck' either. I need you."

You're already shaking your head. "Jongin, we can't--" 

"I know," he cut you off yet again. "I know I wasn't the perfect boyfriend. I know I hurt you more than I loved you and I want to fix that, Y/N. I'm sorry that I made you run. I know that's on me. I regretted all the words I said, all the things I did and didn't do, all the times I made you cry and I still do." 

His hands clasp yours tightly, long fingers intertwining with yours. 

"Just give us another chance," he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. "We can make this work. I know we can. I can't let you leave again, Y/N. Not without trying, at least." 

"We're too toxic," you breathed out weakly. "We can't keep hurting each other." 

"You only hurt me when you left. You only left when I hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you again." 

"You're like fire, Jongin." You look up at him then, teary eyes meeting his. "I burn when I'm with you and I yearn for you when I'm away. I can't keep doing that to myself."

He's silent as he stares at you. "Give me a chance to make it right and I promise you won't have to burn or yearn for me. I'll be right here."

You feel the tears roll down your cheeks and before they can fall down your face, Jongin's lips are on them, soft feather kisses to wipe away the pain. 

You feel the last of your resolve slip away as your hand reaches up to gingerly touch his cheek, turning his mouth to yours. You can taste your tears on him as he presses his lips to yours, hand snaking to the back of your neck. You grip his sleeve tightly, the light cotton bunching up in your fingers as you sit up on your knees, leaning forward into him and kissing him fervently. You feel your heart swell as if it was your first kiss with him and you realise that in a way, it is--a new beginning.

Jongin takes your shoulders and gently pushes you, making you fall back onto your pillows. You close your eyes and sigh softly as he makes a trail of kisses from your forehead down your nose, to your cheeks and finally your lips. Right as you arch your back to kiss him harder, he pulls away to bury his face in your neck. You moan softly as you feel his mouth suck on the soft flesh under your ear, his circling tongue sending pangs of arousal straight to your throbbing core.

You grab his shoulders and with a burst of strength, roll him off you. Jongin falls back in surprise, eyes wide as you sit up and throw your leg over his waist to straddle him. 

He breathes your name in a soft whisper as you press your chest against his, hands cupping his face. His fingers are gripping your sides, feeling like fire on your bare hips where they've slipped underneath your shirt. 

Your own hands are tugging at his collar and he sits up slightly, helping you yank it off his head. Your eyes immediately fall on the darkening hickeys, scattered across his throat, collar and down to his chest. You raise your hand to it and freeze as he hisses when your nail slightly scrapes over a particularly purplish-looking one right at the crook of his neck. 

"Proud of yourself?" Jongin asks, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

You shake your head, running your fingers over them lightly. "I didn't think they would become this... purple." 

"Well, you weren't exactly gentle last night." 

"Oh shut up, you bruise like a peach." At Jongin's chuckle, you smile before saying honestly, "I'm sorry. You'll probably get into trouble with the staff when they notice it--" 

"Y/N," he shut you up, pressing his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and he grabbed the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your neck. You blink at him as you feel the cool air of your room hit your bare torso. 

"It's fine," he reassured you, kissing you softly. "Mark me as much as you wish cause I'm not going anywhere." 

You loop your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him flush against your chest as you feel his warm skin on yours. He grips the back of your hair tightly and you push him back down on the pillows so that you could lay atop him.

Jongin's fingers grip your hips, your own lightly and teasingly tracing a path down the side of his face to his neck and over his chest. He moans into your mouth, grabbing your hand to stop the torture and you can't help but smile into the kiss as you roll your hips against his, feeling that familiar bulge poke into you. The thin material of your panty sticks to you as you grind harder against him, greedily wanting more. 

Jongin's hands fly back up to your hips and in a second, he has you rolled back on the bed until you're up against the headboard and he is kneeling in between your spread thighs. 

"I think that's enough teasing for now, babe," he said, dropping his head to your neck, licking up to your ear. You grip his arms and arch your back into him, throwing your head back against the headboard to grant him more access. You close your eyes, moaning as you feel his fingers tweak your nipple, rolling the bud in between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand slips under the side of your panty, curling his finger around it as he slowly drags it down your thighs. 

Your hands wrap around the back of his head as his lips latch onto your breast, his wet tongue and warm mouth making you a writhing mess under him. You don't realise you'd moaned out 'Kai' until you feel him smirk against your chest, raising his head to you. 

"I love that you still switch to Kai when we're having sex," he murmurs, kissing your chin. 

You grip his purple locks tightly in your fingers as you kiss him. 

"You know its cause you get the same look that you do when you're performing," you mutter against his lips as your hands move down his chest to the waistband of his shorts, already unbuttoning and yanking down the zipper. 

Jongin starts moving his head lower, his lips at your navel now and you grab his face, shaking your head at him. 

"Not now," you say, kissing his nose. "Later." 

"Impatient, are we?" 

"Jongin, I swear--" 

He chuckles, finally taking off the panty from around your ankles and flinging it across the room along with his shorts. He kisses you deeply then and you sink back into the pillows, feeling him poke at your entrance, no more barriers this time. 

You moan softly, spreading your legs wider around his hips and he groans as he slides easily into you.

"God, baby, you're so wet for me," he breathes, his lips near your ear as you feel him stretch you out. 

A soft breath escapes your mouth and you place your hands on his back, rolling your hips into him as he fills you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you use your feet to pull him into you as close as possible, wanting to feel every single inch.

"Fuck, I love it when you do that," Jongin groaned as you clench around him, hot breath hitting your neck. "Fuck, babe, Y/N." 

Your name leaves his mouth in a draggy moan that makes your stomach twist in an all-too familiar way. You raise your one hand to the back of his head, holding it in place as you kiss his ear. 

Your hips move with his, both of your bodies connected in a way that you didn't know where he started and where you ended. You could feel the sweat on your back as his warmth smothered you but you didn't care--you loved how your body was burning underneath him, how his scent that you'd missed so much was engulfing your senses, how his purple hair brushed your face, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose onto your face, plush lips meeting yours occasionally as he thrusts into you. 

He may be fire but right now, he was setting you ablaze. 

And you loved it. 

Jongin moves his hands from your sides and places them on either side of your head. Your eyes are hazy as you watch him hold himself above you, hips thrusting into you deeply. 

You maintain the eye-contact as you arch your back, pressing your breasts to him and gripping his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin while you roll your hips into him, meeting each of his thrusts with your own. 

Hr groans again as your bodies move together like a perfectly synchronised dance and you hear his breaths get shorter, your heart pounding dully in your ears as the sound of skin slapping and moans echo around you. 

With nails that are certainly leaving crescent-shaped marks into his skin, you close your eyes as you feel him thrusting faster and harder. You hear the sound of the headboard banging against the wall echo as he pounds into you and he latches his lips onto your throat when you clench around him. 

Jongin's hips stutter against yours, and you moan aloud, eyes snapping open as your head spins with the orgasm that crashes over your body. Your legs are numb around him and he thrusts twice more before you feel him flood inside you, coating your walls with his warmth.

You fall back on the bed, Jongin collapsing on top of you, hand finding yours and intertwining with your fingers. Sweat sticks to both your bodies and as he shifts, you feel the cum seep out, dripping down your slit onto the sheets. 

"Y/N," he breathes your name in the softest whisper as if he doesn't want even the air around you to be disturbed. 

You hum in response, feeling it reverberate between your chests pressed together and its only then that you realise your hearts are probably pounding against each other's. 

It makes you smile but not as much as what Jongin says next,

"I'm sorry for burning you. I promise you that the only time I'll set you on fire is when we do what we just did." 

You start giggling then, unable to control it and he raises his head to grin cheekily at you. 

"I'm serious, though," he mutters, booping your nose cutely with his. "I'm sorry. I won't burn you anymore. I'll make it right this time, I'll burn you with only my love." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, shaking your head at him fondly. You trace his lips with your forefinger and he kisses it gently, his eyes shining with a silent sincere apology underneath the jokes.

And in that moment, you know that it'll be okay even if it didn't turn out well. Because with Jongin's subtle confession, you knew that you wouldn't go anywhere. 

Not without giving this a second chance. 

Because he was a fire that you couldn't help being drawn to. A fire that you loved. 

And this time, like he said, you'd try to make it right. 

You smile and open your mouth to respond when you suddenly hear the familiar sound of a doorknob turning. 

Your eyes shoot wide open and your hand reaches out, grabbing the covers just in time to throw it over the both of you as Sera pokes her head in. 

"Okay, I don't remember a lot of last night," she announces, walking in and holding her hand to her head. "But I do remember you going missing and a few bits and pieces of us getting home but--" 

She stops talking when she's right at the foot of the bed, her eyes trained on Jongin who's staring at her. 

Sera blinks once, twice and laughs, "Wow, what the fuck did I drink last night, I'm clearly still drunk, haha--" 

She cuts herself off by slapping her own face and Jongin takes this moment to roll off of you onto the side, pulling the covers over his head. 

Sera watches in silence, eyes wide as she gawks at you. 

"Was that--?" she stops, blinking. "Did you just fuck Kai? EXO's Kai? Kim fucking Jong--" 

"I'll explain later," you reassure her, holding the covers to your chest as you plead with your eyes. "Just please leave for now, I swear I'll tell you everything."

Sera hesitates before nodding in a daze and turns, retreating to the door. You wait with bated breath and its only when the door closes that you turn to Jongin still hiding beneath the covers. 

You yank the sheet down from his face, rolling your eyes. "You can come out n--"

"Hey!" 

You whip around as Sera pokes her head inside.

"We've established that you just slept with EXO's Kai," she announces chirpily, smiling widely at Jongin who is frozen beside you. "I have just one question for you: is Baekhyun single?" 

Jongin blinks. "Um. As of for now, yes." 

"Fantastic," she comments, grinning. "I'll leave now. You kids can get dressed and then we can discuss my date with Baekhyun that you two are going to help set up if you want me to be quiet about this after some coffee and breakfast, all right? Don't take too long!" 

She closes the door again, and Jongin turns to you with a fearful expression.

You shake your head, laughing. "She's just joking, she's my best friend. Don't worry about it. She loves Baek, is all." 

"He'll kill me if she's a crazy fan or something." 

"Nah, she's great. They'd be cute together." 

"They better be or I'll tell him you're responsible," he grumbles as he starts to get up. 

You laugh and just like that, you feel as if the entire world has been reset, Jongin back at your side and you by his. 

It's a new beginning.

And you wouldn't burn out this time.