#and that's like so much??! i have MANY thoughts

[meo-eiru]

Since I'm busy working on a valentines day drawing I thought we could do something different until I'm done with that. Trivia night! I'll be writing what's basically a compilation of fun facts we've already established or haven't learned yet. We will also learn more about their backstories.

For tonight we have Silas

Silas has a mom and dad but isn't close with neither of them

As a child he was quite needy compared to other elven kids

Elves almost never stray too far away from the elven village but Silas liked to play in the depths of the forest

He learned about humans from a story book he found while playing in the forest

He was amazed by the colorful imagery and the familial relationship depicted in the book and wanted to have the same, which kickstarted his human hyperfixation

He's currently the most knowledgeable elf in humans within the village

His house is located quite far away from the village, he can still reach there by walking but it's not somewhere where the other elves can just stumble upon

He likes sweet things like fruits or honey but dislikes the taste of meat so doesn't feed it to you much as well

He, just like the other elves, while natural with most other living things, hates all demonic creatures

He's very nice and sweet with you but wouldn't glance twice at other forest creatures and is actively hostile towards demons

Of course he would never let you see him make that kind of face

He thought of using magic to make you live as long as he does but it feels like tempering with your humanity so if you die he's planning to die with you

He's actually not that good at magic compared to other elves, he just knows the basics and relies on books for the rest

He's average height for an elf

He doesn't like leaving bite marks or hickeys on your body because it feels like dirtying your perfect form

But he really likes it when you mark his skin, whether they are hickeys or wounds

While more compassionate than other elves, Silas does have a bit of a superiority complex like them

For example, unlike other elves he does see the intelligence of humans but would still say elves are smarter

He doesn't have any ill intentions with it, to him it's just like saying a unicorn is be better than a horse

He doesn't like eating carrots because he thinks they look like elf ears

He loves learning more about you but dislikes hearing about your family

He doesn't want you to have pets, only the two of you are allowed inside his house

He does have a bathroom in his house but it's just a replica of what he saw in books and isn't actually that functional

If you want to use the bathroom for your baths instead of the river like he does, he just carries the water from the river to his house then uses magic to make it rain on you like a shower head

Even if you don't allow him inside the bathroom he still watches from the window

He has a diary where he writes everything you do in a day, from what activities you did to how many times you blink on average

If you offered to live in a human city with him he would refuse, while he likes humans you are his utmost priority and it's better for you to be inside his house away from everyone's reach

[hencheri]

— dior girl

▸ 18+ mdni.

When Park Sunghoon wants something, he gets it no matter how hard it can be. He's not scared to get his hands dirty. If he had any morals, maybe he'd consider his obsession with you getting out of hands, but he has absolutely no morals.

| pairing. designer!sunghoon x fem!reader

| warnings. dark!sunghoon (he's not a good person lol), implied legal age gap, alcohol consumption & mention of drugs use, mention of gain weight, manipulation, corruption, violent sexual thoughts, unprotected sex, anal play, dacryphilia, aftercare because yes sunghoon's a sadist but he still has a heart.

| wc. 7.5k

| a.n.: repost from an old blog. pls forgive me for how lengthy the smut is (or thank me)!!

His studio is his sanctuary. It's the only place where he can spend hours without even noticing the moon setting or the sun rising. In his studio, it feels like time doesn't exist or that it's just a futile detail that doesn't have much importance.

When he's creating a piece, nothing around him matters. The only things he's willing to give attention to are the placements of the needles on the fabric, the little lines that form the pattern of the clothing, or the way his scissors cut through the satin material of the dress he's working on.

He's thought about this design for so long and he finally got the opportunity to make it. He's thought about the colours of the dress and of the seam, about the length of the hem and the sleeves, how deep the neckline should be and if lace would be suitable.

He doesn't even recall how many sketches he's made of that dress. At some point, it was consuming his entire mind, the only thing he could draw and think of.

Now that he's finally making it, he has the feeling that it's going to be the best piece he's ever created. He already sees everyone talking about it, saying how much of a genius Park Sunghoon is. It's going to be the design of the year—of the century.

He still misses something, though, and it might be the most important part of it all. He needs a model, the perfect body to wear his piece and present it to the fashion world.

It can't be anybody, it must be someone who's confident, who always has their head up and radiates elegance and sports a unique beauty.

Sunghoon still hasn't found this person. He constantly searches for them, but never finds them or when he thinks that he has, he discovers flaws he cannot unseen.

All the Dior models are great, but not enough. They don't spark anything in Sunghoon when he watches them strode down the catwalk. He's checked upon the apprentices and the newer models the company has hired, but he saw no one extraordinary.

Until today.

He hears steps against the wooden floor of his studio, entering the place without knocking. 

"Ah, there he is!" A manly voice exclaims and Sunghoon immediately recognizes it as his friend's, Soobin. "I have someone to introduce you."

Sunghoon raises his gaze up from his working table and looks at Soobin who's accompanied by a beautiful, young woman. He's then suddenly interested, contrary to usual where he never really cares about the many girls Soobin brings, claiming each one as the new phenomenon of the fashion industry.

When Sunghoon turns around, he eyes you up and down, barely glimpsing in Soobin's way. It's all it takes, one simple glance and he knows you're the one he needs—the one he wants and has to ruin.

Soobin introduces you both and when your name is pronounced by the man, sounding so charming and delicate, he's certain you're the model he had been waiting for since a long time.

You seem shy, arms locked behind your back, but you stand up straight and have a polite smile drawn on your face.

"I thought maybe you'd like to get to know each other, right?" Soobin raises his eyebrows in Sunghoon's direction. "Everyone's fond of her," he smiles and pats your back, encouraging you to speak up.

"Thanks," you smile back at Soobin before glancing at Sunghoon who still hasn't looked away from you. "I'm a big fan of your work, Mr. Park. You've inspired me to become a model."

The way you say his name has his cock twitching in his pants, filthy thoughts of him spanking your butt as you cry his name invading his mind.

He can sense your vulnerability, your willingness to submit. Who would he be to deny you that? Him, who is so eager to dominate the ones he's attracted to, so eager to break but also repair them.

He knows it when someone's fragile, hiding their weaknesses under fake confidence. He doesn't know you, but he recognizes the pattern almost instantly. What can be broken can also be repaired and you're asking him to break you.

"I'm glad to hear that," Sunghoon says politely, a slight smile tugging on his lips. He's not the type to smile—stretch the corner of his mouth upward to imitate the person in front of him, he finds it shallow. But for you, he'll do it, just so you trust him, so desperate to give yourself to the opposite sex. 

"Park, you were wondering who'd be part of the fall show this year," Soobin begins, looking at you like you're the most irradiant ruby in the world. "Well, you have her in front of you." 

You chuckle softly at the man's words, nodding your head at him and then looking at Sunghoon as if waiting for some praises.

Sunghoon faintly smiles, seeing your eyes glimmering and he curses himself for not finding you sooner. You'd have been his by now, his to praise, his to kiss and fuck. His to destroy. But he swears, if he happens to break you, he'll gratefully keep you safe close to him.

๑♡՞

"Careful," Sunghoon softly says as he catches you up before you can fall to the floor. You let out a high pitched laugh, as if all of this is a big joke, and push him back with a hand on his chest.

"I'm fine," you answer, shrugging him off with a flip of your hand. You stagger from left to right, leaning against the wall when you almost stumble. You laugh it off again, halting your steps.

Sunghoon looks at you with a cringe expression, eyeing the people behind, sporting worried looks on their faces.

You all went out after the show; models, designers, directors, stylists... everyone. It wasn't your plan to get drunk, Sunghoon knows that because you're not supposed to drink alcohol during your diet. A glass from time to time isn't so bad, but your consumption clearly surpassed just a glass tonight.

It's not really your fault, though. Technically yes, since you're the one who swallowed all of the wine, but you had a little help.

A little help from Sunghoon himself.

When you weren't looking, he poured more alcohol in your glass and to his satisfaction you noticed nothing and gulped everything down. Sure, you got a bit suspicious, wondering how you had only drank so little when you remembered swallowing more than that.

But Sunghoon assured you it was only your first glass, so you drank, and drank, and drank... 

Until you were more than tipsy.

You've received nasty looks from your colleagues, especially the other models who weren't drinking a single drop of wine, and yet, still weren't awarded with the status of the 'face of Dior'. How ironic that the drunkest girl in the room was the face of Dior and the little protégée of Mr. Park.

"I'll... I'll bring her to our room, you can go out without us," Sunghoon announces, watching you sit down on the floor in the middle of the corridor.

"Will she be okay?" 

"Of course. I'll take care of her."

He waits for everyone to be gone before he gets you up from the floor and leads you both to your hotel room. When you're in the room, he sits you down on the bed.

You don't say anything as he takes off his jacket and loosens his tie. He crouches down in front of you to remove your heels and he does the same with his shoes, leaving them by the entry.

When he comes back, he sees you quietly crying, the features of your face contorting into a sad expression. You've slightly sobered up, harshly coming back to reality, realizing how much you've embarrassed yourself tonight.

"What did I do?" You ask, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Sunghoon sits down beside you, lifting your head up with his index under your chin and his thumb over it. "There's nothing that can't be repaired," he states in a soft voice, so low it sounds like a sweet whisper—a secret, a confession only you know. "Right?"

You sniff, wiping your tears away. You nod your head in agreement, slightly reassured, hoping Sunghoon will fix your mistakes. 

"Shh, baby, shh," he softly murmurs, cradling your head in his hands and gently laying your face against his chest. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him tighter.

He strokes your hair delicately, placing a sweet and warm kiss on the top of your head.

Someone as vulnerable as you contains a lot of emotions. He has to deal with them, which doesn't bother him at all. He wants you the way you are; sad and pitiful.

"Everything's going to be fine," he promises, but it's not entirely the truth. Not everything will be fine, though it'll be in the end, he thinks—he hopes.

You eventually pull away from his embrace, just enough to look at him. It seems like you're searching for something or maybe waiting for something, your eyes desperately staring at Sunghoon as if his simple presence will make all of your problems go away.

You throw yourself at him and kiss him on the lips, fingers pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. He reciprocates it, knowing you like your kisses sloppy and messy, wanting Sunghoon everywhere on you to remind you that he's always there.

You bring him closer, wrinkling the material of his white shirt between your fists, moaning and whining as your teeth clash together at how roughly you kiss each other.

Sunghoon breaks your exchange first, both catching your breaths. His eyes observe you quietly as you look at him like you're still waiting for something.

"Did you do what I told you to?" He questions you, referring to your conversation of a few days earlier when you came to his studio to try on his dress.

You were a bit stressed out, putting on the clothing like you were scared you'd rip it. He still remembers the way the satin was sliding up your body, hugging your waist and ass perfectly. 

He was baffled at how incredibly well it suited you as if he had made it exactly for you.

And maybe it was made for you, after all.

Because when he saw his creation on you, he knew you had to wear it for the runway. It has to be you, he'll accept no one else.

Sunghoon will make you walk the runway wearing his dress—the last time you'll ever step on the catwalk. After that, he'll keep you away from the rest of the world. He'll refuse anyone to see you because you're going to be his.

His forever.

"Yes," you nod your head, trapping your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Tell me what you did," Sunghoon softly demands, holding your chin in his hand, mouths inches away from each other.

You're too shy to say it out loud and that's why he wants you to tell him. Also to be sure you did everything correctly, but mainly because he wants to see you embarrassed.

"I prepared myself for you..." you begin, holding eye contact even though you feel your face heating up just thinking about all the things you've done per his request. "I... I used lube both on me and... the toy," you continue in a shy tone, so low Sunghoon wouldn't hear you if he wasn't so close.

"Where on you, sweetheart?" He interrupts, wanting each detail, each little thing you normally wouldn't have done if it wasn't for him. 

You swallow, "On my ass, Sunghoon," you answer in a whisper. "I stretched it out for you, using the toy like you told me," you finally admit.

"Good girl," Sunghoon purrs. "Let me see it then."

You proceed to strip off of your dress, now used to be nude in front of him, and slide your panties down your thighs, discarding them away on the floor. 

You get back up on the mattress and position yourself on all fours close to the edge of the bed. Sunghoon stands up and goes behind you to have a closer look at your ass.

His veiny hands pull your cheeks apart, revealing your rim to his insatiable, sadistic eyes. You glance over your shoulder, curious of what he has in mind and what he has prepared for you. 

You softly gasp when he spits and lets the globe of spit drip down between your asscheeks, rolling over your puckered hole. You clench around nothing, relieved to have his attention, to finally feel his hands on you instead of the usual touch of yours. 

He sees that your ass is a bit more loose than the last time he saw it, but it still clearly needs more preparation to welcome his girthy cock—though it's not like he cares that much if you're prepped enough or not. 

He passes his thumb over your tight muscle, circling it and smearing his saliva over it. He wants to fuck it so bad, destroy it and do unbelievably violent things to you. Should he tonight? Should he show you his dark and evil side? 

He's choked you before—smacked your ass hard till you felt your skin stings, overstimulated you to the point your orgasms were just spasms passing through your body, fucked your throat while you were drooling all over yourself, and tied your legs and wrists together to restrict your movements. 

So fucking your ass can't be that bad, but the thing is Sunghoon wants it to be bad. He then wonders what would happen if the line is ever crossed. Would you endure it, would you defend yourself? Would you shut the fuck up and take it like you're asked to?

But you trust him so much—with all of your pathetic being—and he thinks you'd let him cross any lines he desires to. He probably already has crossed multiples, and being the poor girl that you are, you said nothing.

You truly are extraordinary. 

He gives a slight slap to one of your asscheeks, groping both of them after, feeling how soft and tender your flesh is. "You did good, sweetheart," he comments in a honeyed voice, "how about we play with it a little?" 

He lifts up a brow at you and you nod sheepishly, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. "Yes..."

"Great," he says in a low tone, running his hands one last time over your ass before going to take something from his suitcase. 

"What is it?" You question, your curious eyes landing on the small object he's holding.

Sunghoon brings the object to you, something made of metal, the end having the shape of a cone and a pink gem placed on the top. "A gift for my princess," he replies, opening the bottle of lube he brought as well. 

He applies some lube around your tight hole and on the butt plug, and carefully pushes the head of the toy in your ass. You gasp softly, feeling it slowly stretch you, sinking in gradually as Sunghoon holds your cheeks apart.

"Feels good, Sir," you moan, arching your back and pushing your butt closer to Sunghoon. 

When the plug is all the way in, the pink gem peeking out between your two globes of flesh, he smacks your other cheek, leaving his stinging handprint on you. 

"Is that so, dirty girl?" He wonders, gripping your hips and colliding his hips with your butt, sensing his bulge pulsing under his pants. "You like it when your little ass gets stretched out?" 

"I like everything you do to me," you say with a content sigh, pussy clenching around nothing as your ass gets used to the small butt plug. 

Sunghoon genuinely thinks he can't find better than you. You were so shy in the beginning, looking like a lost puppy wherever you went. You just needed someone bigger and older to show you the way—though you were too dumb, and still are, to realize he was leading you to the wrong path.

It's not like you seem to mind, anyway. 

After all, you both got what you wanted; you, male attention, someone to rely on and be protected by, and him, a woman to break and keep with him forever. 

He lets go of your hips to unbuckle his belt, pulling the leather material out of the gold loop with the luxury Dior logo on it. He lets the two ends of the belt hang off, not bothering to remove it completely, and tucks the fly of his pants down.

He finally frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, springing up and slapping his stomach, the bit of pre-cum escaping from his tip dampening his shirt. 

"You're so good to me, princess," he praises as he wraps a hand around the base of his engorged cock, aching and begging to be nestled in your cute little pussy. 

His head pushes at your entrance, never fully entering, only teasing your hole and stimulating all of your sensitive nerves. He watches how his cock stretches your cunt, your walls expending to receive his bulbous tip and then closing down when he pulls out. 

"Sir, please, want more," you beg him, pushing your ass on him to have his dick back in you. You let out a little whimper when Sunghoon holds your hips in place, stopping you from wiggling your butt side to side against his thick cock. 

He hums and slaps your ass harshly, your skin burning after. "Want my cock in your needy little pussy, baby? Is that what you're crying for?" He asks, teasing even more by swiping the head between your pussy lips, a string of your arousal sticking to his angry tip. 

"Yes," you say back quickly and desperately, arching your back, literally presenting yourself to Sunghoon. "Been so good, don't I deserve it, Sir?" You softly murmur, still looking over your shoulder to see his gaze fixated on your quivering pussy, cock head sliding up and down over your sex. 

"You do..." He responds distractedly, licking his lips, his fingers touching the pink gem peeking out from your ass. You're always so good and obedient for him, he even wonders if you ever did something that genuinely pissed him off before. 

When he really sinks in, his head passing the barrier of your sweet pussy, he groans deeply, feeling your walls envelop him tightly. 

He bends his back over yours, running his hand up your spine, feeling all the little bumps of it until he reaches your neck and shoves your head against the mattress. 

You whine when he starts pounding into you, his girth stretching you out so well, leaving you panting and moaning loudly. His other hand holds your hip against his dick, fingers digging into your skin, leaving permanent marks on your body.

He already sets a hard and rapid pace—fucking is never soft or loving with Sunghoon, it's violent, long, and agonizing. It's a way to be himself, the real and dark version of himself he hides in public, and releases when he gets intimate with you. 

You surprisingly got accustomed to it, embracing it as if it was your destiny, the reason for your existence; to be his personal slut, the little toy he likes to play rough with. You've accepted it, like you had no other choice but to be fucked into oblivion by Sunghoon whenever he feels like it. 

"You like that, baby? Huh?" He growls, as if you're the disgusting one for liking the way he treats you, to be ravished and delighted to have his cock sliding against your walls. "You like it when I fuck you hard like this?" He repeats and grips your hair, pushing your head into the bed covers with more strength. 

You babble out something, voice caught in your throat, too out of breath to formulate a simple sentence. You then only nod, your cheek squished against the mattress, Sunghoon's hand still pushing down on your head. 

His mouth hangs open to let out heavy breaths and his eyes are focused on your face, watching the little translucent pearls fall on your face and onto the bed. Your pussy swallows all of him, clenching so tightly it has him groaning and saying profanities under his breath.

It's sick how it makes his cock so fucking hard, leaking so much pre-cum in you and twitching avidly by seeing you struggle to breathe. You hold the bed sheets between your fists, doing everything in your power to keep your ass up for Sunghoon and not slump down on the bed from the hard thrusts he's inflicting on you. 

He snaps his hips against your ass and the entirety of his length is covered in your wetness, a white ring made of your cream circling the base of his cock. 

His hand holding your head descends to your neck, enclosing it with his fingers. He squeezes a little, just a bit so you know who's in control, so you never forget Sunghoon controls you—controls your life and thoughts. 

With a grip on your hair, he brings your torso up, arched back against his chest. The material of his shirt sticks to your skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. He continues to pound into you and as he holds you by the throat, he lewdly licks the side of your face in a long stripe. 

You shudder in desire, hair standing up on your arms. "You're my little whore, aren't you, baby?" His mouth is right beside your ear as he whispers the words to you, his lips touching your hair, damp at the nape of your neck. "So fucking compliant... You want to please me so badly like the slut that you are.”

His free hand that doesn't have a hold around your throat slides down your body, passing over your belly and reaching your puffy clit. The sharp zipper of his pants graces the flesh just under your ass, irritating your skin and making it itchy. You clench around him when his digits find your sensitive bud.

"Yes, want to please you, Sunghoon," you gasp, bucking your hips at the feeling of his rough fingertips on you. He grunts when you address him by his name, loving how it sounds on your tongue, so sweet and timid. 

He remembers the first time you moaned his name; you were sprawled across his expensive leather couch, blindfolded and hands attached together with his black tie. Intense for your first time with him, but it was also the last time he's ever been that gentle with you. 

It was when his cold fingertips graced the skin of your stomach that you let out a squeak followed by his name, said in the quietest moan. He had then stopped his movements and looked at your face, an expression of distress painted over your features. 

He had realized how frail and weak you actually were, needing your most important sense to be at ease. That's why he had blindfolded you, to show you how dependent you were on him, how impossible it was for you to live without someone to guide you. 

He pushes your jaw to the side so your lips can meet in a feverish kiss, wet tongues mingling together, drool dripping down from the corners of your mouth. He continues to ram his cock in your pussy, the sound of skin against skin resonating in the hotel room. 

He traps your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whimper and close your walls around him once again. Your hands grip the material of his trousers, keeping him close and holding on to something because the hard cadence of his hip thrusts push you forward, breasts bouncing up on your chest. 

"Fuck," he curses and he suddenly stops, steadying his hips against your butt. You let out a whiny moan as Sunghoon lets go of your face and hips. 

You're sad to have your pleasure ripped away from you so hastily, but you don't have the time to complain, Sunghoon slipping out of your cunt and pushing you down violently on the mattress. 

You turn around on your back to see him unbuttoning his dress shirt and throwing it on the floor, revealing to you his beautiful chest and milky skin. He gets rid of his pants and socks after, finally removing his boxers, the only thing remaining on him being the watch crowning his right wrist. 

His cock glistens in your juices, more pre-cum leaking from his swollen tip and twitching avidly against his stomach. Even though him fucking you while being all dressed and you completely bare is a way to humiliate and degrade you, he also likes to be naked sometimes. 

He loves skin to skin contact, how your bodies stick together because of all the sweat coating you. It's addicting, it's rougher and it creates more friction—more pain. 

He doesn't mind being naked because he knows how to dominate you either way. He doesn't find it embarrassing, on the contrary, it makes him scarier and hungrier. While you shiver without your clothes on, curled up on yourself, Sunghoon is imposing, his cock thick enough to split you in half. 

He crawls back to you, hovering over you like a predator that has caught his prey, boring his eyes into yours. You look at him in awe, always waiting patiently. You feel his cock against your thigh, your hole pathetically quivering—missing his size terribly. 

He sneaks a hand between your legs and reaches the little pink gem, ready to get it out. "Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Sunghoon instructs and you inhale deeply.

He doesn't waste a second, pulling out the butt plug out of your ass. You scrunch your eyes shut at the pain, exhaling when it's done. There's still a bit of lube left on it and around your ass. He carefully sets it on the nightstand, coming back to you after. 

He bends your legs over your stomach and looks at your ass, just begging him to fuck it, shining with lube and arousal that leaked from your pussy. His cock is so close to it and Sunghoon could slide right in with one movement of his hips. 

He lets go of one of your legs to grip his erection, a little gasp escaping your lips when he presses the head of his cock at your tight hole, threatening to sink in. 

"Sir," you sigh, not sure if you're ready for that. It always burns no matter how good you prepped before and he knows that. That's why he's so tempted, staring so obsessively at your rim. 

Will it hurt you? Will you grip his biceps in an attempt to dissuade him? He wants to see those tears falling from your eyes again, he wants to lick them and tastes your pain. He feels more blood rush down to his cock at the mere thought of hurting you. 

Give him all of your pain, he'll fucking take it whole and cherish it. He wants it—he needs it. Accuse him of having a sick and twisted mind, accuse him of everything you've ever been hurt by because he'll gladly take the blame. 

"I know you can take it," he says in a low tone, glancing up at your face as he applies just a bit more force. "Can you, baby?" Sunghoon asks, waiting for you to admit how much you want it, how badly you want him to destroy you. 

"Yes..." You whisper back, a long shiver running up your spine as his eyes pierce through you. 

"Yes what? Tell me, sweetheart," he demands, and it's as if he doesn't care about your response whatsoever because the next thing he does makes you yelp in pain. 

His tip has entered you, the burning sensation forcing you to scrunch your eyes shut. 

"Yes, I- I can..." you stutter and as expected, you dig your nails into the flesh of his biceps, only fair to hurt him in return. "I can take your cock in my ass."

You take a sharp breath, eyes slowly opening, all watery and painful. Sunghoon groans at that, stuffing more of himself into you. "Good girl," he praises.

He stretches you out completely, his dick in no comparison to the toys you've used on you. You open your mouth as he pushes himself in gradually, tears streaming down your face when you blink. 

The tears roll down the side of your face and Sunghoon can't help but love the sight, leaning in to kiss your face and collect one of your tears, tasting the saltiness of it on his tongue. 

"Sunghoon!" You look at him with the saddest and most hurtful eyes. "It burns," you add in a quiet voice, now scratching his back, leaving long red trails on his skin. 

"I know, baby, I know," he softly murmurs in your ear, a husky moan leaving his mouth when he's completely nestled in you, balls touching your ass. "You're so tight, fuck," he sucks a breath through his teeth, not moving until he estimates he's waited long enough. 

He gives warm and wet kisses to your neck, going down to your collarbones and pawing at your breasts, slowly starting to move his hips. You lock your legs behind his back, wanting him as close to you as possible despite the pain he's inflicting on you. 

He loves knowing it hurts you because it makes it more pleasurable to him somehow. The pain will go away soon anyway, that's why he doesn't bother to stop or slow down. You have to get used to the feeling first. 

The choking, the hair pulling, the smacks... He keeps it for the bedroom, but he won't lie that there's a part of him that wants to ruin your life, ruin everything you've accomplished so far just so he can see those sad eyes of yours and hear you ask him for help out of desperation. 

It's not even sexual, he just wants to break you, that's all he desires. Though your life is something he wants to destroy, it's more of a way to have you dependent on him after. If your career is no longer successful, your solution is Sunghoon because he's the only person in your life capable of taking care of you both emotionally and physically. 

His teeth chew on the tender skin of your neck while his hand travels all over your body, many veins popping out along his strong arm. His finger gently circles your clit to make the pain more bearable. 

His hand that was roaming over your body comes to close around your throat and he turns his head to your side, lips brushing over your temple. "Yeah, just like that, baby," he mutters under his breath, his nose pressing down on your hair as he murmurs the words to you. "Just like that..." 

A choked moan is all that escapes your mouth. His hot breath hits the side of your face, his chest heaving rapidly while you claw at his back, white scratches appearing on his shoulder blades.

He sweetly kisses your temple as he pounds into you, not tightening his hand around your throat, just holding you in place—making sure you know that he’s always in control. 

Your tits slightly bounce up and down on your chest, little whines coming out of you each time Sunghoon bottoms out. It starts to feel good for you—really good—and you think that this pleasure is totally worth a bit of pain at the beginning. 

You grip the hair at the nape of his neck and bring him in for a kiss. He accepts it, kissing you back as if he wants to possess your whole mouth, biting and licking your lips. You moan into his mouth, twisting his hair between your fingers.

He pulls away from you, his full lips glistening in both of your saliva, and places his two palms on your boobs. He feels your perky nipples under his hands, just loving how plushy your breasts are, fitting perfectly in his palms. 

He keeps thrusting in you as he gropes your tits and you bring your hands over his, looking into each other's eyes. He lets out a low groan, holding eye-contact with you. 

You feel his veins under your palms, your pussy clenching around nothing but air while you run your hands all over his arms. You love to feel his pulsing veins under your fingertips.

"Sunghoon..." You moan his name, throwing your head back and closing your eyes, just enjoying the feeling of his hard cock entering and exiting your tight hole. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to smooch over your neck again as you expose it to him, his lips pressing down on your throat. "I love it," you sigh pleasantly. 

He hums, the sound coming deep from his throat. He wants to hurt you, yes, but he likes it even more when you love the pain. He just knew you were exactly like him when he first saw you. He had the feeling that you needed someone like him, someone that'd push you to your limits and make you discover a new type of pleasure. 

And he was right because there's not one time where you told him to stop.

"My dirty girl," he purrs in response, bringing his lips up to your jaw. He slowly rolls your nipples between his fingertips, pinching and pulling on them. "You're stupid, but so, so good for me, baby.” 

He slowly halts his hip thrusts and he eventually pulls out of you. You gasp when he does so, already missing his cock stretching out your ass. 

Sunghoon raises himself up from you and gets out of the bed. His erection stands tall against his stomach, bouncing up as he walks to the front of the bed. 

You watch him getting away until he orders you to follow him. "Come here," he says softly and you don't make him wait. "On your knees," Sunghoon commands when you're facing him, sinking down to your knees. 

He places a hand behind your head and the other around the base of his dick, guiding the head of his cock toward your lips as he pushes down on your head. 

"Here, baby," he instructs in a low voice. "Take it in your mouth." You part your lips to welcome Sunghoon's length, his bulbous tip shining in pre-cum and your juices under the light of the room. 

He immediately moans when he enters the warmth of your mouth, his heavy cock sliding on your wet tongue. He doesn't let you have much control, pushing his dick in your mouth until your nose touches his pubic hair. 

You relax your jaw for Sunghoon, allowing him to stuff more of himself into your mouth. He looks down at you, watching at the way your lips wrap around him tightly, your eyes starting to water. 

He begins to fuck your mouth, forcing you to take him whole each time he bottoms out. He moves his hips back and forth, obsessed with the way his girth appears and reappears between your lips as he uses your mouth as he pleases. 

"Shit," he hisses when you hollow your cheeks, "you're a fucking cockslut, aren't you, baby?" He says breathily, his eyes not once leaving his cock penetrating your mouth over and over again. 

You whine around him, surely agreeing with what he said, sending vibrations throughout his entire body. He lets out a deep moan, your cheeks and eyelashes all wet because of your tears, eyes burning as Sunghoon fucks your throat roughly. 

"Stroke your clit," he manages to say between two heavy breaths. "You can get off by yourself, right? I know you're soaking wet just by letting me use that pretty mouth of yours," he mocks you, but he knows he's right. Whatever he does, your cunt is always dripping wet. 

You whimper again, doing what he told you to and sneaking a hand between your thighs to play with your pussy. You part your legs wider as you circle your clit with your finger, Sunghoon's hooded eyes lazily watching you playing with yourself. 

Your right hand is laying on his thigh while the other is operating between your legs, pleasuring yourself to the sounds of Sunghoon's moans and the feeling of his cock weighing down on your tongue. 

You do your best to breathe through your nose, swallowing around his length and flattening your tongue underneath him. Your juices drip down your inner thighs, your finger smoothly flickering over your sensitive bud.

The whole room is smelling like sex, an odour that Sunghoon can't ignore, loving it so much. Your lips glide so easily over his hard cock, completely covered in your spit and still some of your wetness, tasting yourself on him. 

"Ah, fuck," he curses, his head rolling back on his shoulders, eyes still strained down on you. He feels the familiar burning sensation at the pit of his stomach, indicating he's really close to his orgasm. "Go on the bed, baby."

You're taken aback, but you follow his order, pulling him out of your mouth and laying your back down on the mattress close to the edge. You beautifully moan when Sunghoon penetrates your pussy, bending your legs over your stomach. 

"Oh, god," you cry softly, being pounded onto the bed right away, tits moving up and down on your chest. 

His hands are positioned on each side of your shoulders, snapping his hips against yours so harshly it hurts. You keep doing circle motions on your clit, now faster and impatient to reach your high. 

You let out a high-pitched moan when Sunghoon suddenly steadies his hips over yours, dropping down to his elbows as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Holy fuck," he grunts, gripping the bed sheets tightly in his fists beside your head as his cock twitches in your cunt. 

"Yes, yes," you quietly exclaim, your orgasm passing through you, making you arch your back and buck your hips. 

Your pussy clenches repeatedly around him and he finally comes undone into you, shooting long, thick ropes of cum deep in you. When he slips out of you, more spurts out of his tip, landing on your pussy, covering you in his cum. 

He stays above you for some time, catching his breath and looking at the mess he made of you. 

Later, Sunghoon is in the shower, washing his hair and his body, passing a soft cloth soaked in soap over his chest. He lets the water fall over his head, wetting his black locks. He stays maybe a bit longer than normally, staring at the tiled wall. 

He thinks about you, about all the things he's planned. He revised everything in his head, imagining you walk on the podium wearing his dress, people looking at his piece with admiration in their eyes. 

He thinks about everything that will go down for you after the show, getting fired, losing your career and your fans. Many articles talking about your excessive use of alcohol and drugs, saying how tired and sad you look beside Sunghoon. 

You won't last long, you're too weak anyway. A downfall like this is unconquerable, nobody recovers from that, and surely not a model who will be thrown out of the industry as soon as you turn twenty-five. 

Sunghoon knows the industry, he's been in it for years now. He's aware of how cruel it is, how difficult and harsh it can be on fragile little girls like you. 

But that's why he's here, he'll take care of you once nobody will want you anymore. That's the goal, after all; you to be finally his—solely and completely. 

"Sunghoon?"

Your voice reaches him, turning his head in your direction, seeing you hesitantly entering the shower with him. He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you do, hugging him and laying your head down on his wet chest. 

"I love you, sweetheart," he softly murmurs against your hair. "I'll never leave you, you know that, right?" 

You nod your head, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. "I love you, too."

๑♡՞

The runway went incredibly well. Celebrities and journalists were all gathered for the fall show, totally amazed by every design and the models that were wearing them. 

But there was one specific piece that everyone was willing to say was the best. 

Sunghoon was satisfied to see that his name stood out amongst everyone else's, being mentioned more times than Dior itself. He predicted it; it was the creation that every guest remembered, the dress that the fans were only talking about. 

He'd take all the credit, he was the one who imagined it and then sewed it after all, but he has to admit that you contributed to the fame a lot. 

Being the beloved face of Dior only made people talk more about it and that was what Sunghoon needed. 

But every good story has an end, doesn't it? 

When Sunghoon comes back to his apartment, the place is silent except for the TV playing, as he thought it would be. You're looking through the window, the city draped in the dark, splotches of bright yellow light flashing in front of your eyes. You're sitting on the sofa, not even acknowledging his presence as he enters, getting rid of his shoes. 

You're not much of a talker since you've been fired from Dior a few days ago just after the fall show. He understands your wish of remaining silent, needing a bit of space to process everything that happened the past weeks in your head. 

It was going to happen soon or later anyway. You've been to your photoshoots completely drunk, sometimes just going in with a hangover, but of course it didn't help your case at all. 

Sunghoon was guilty for letting you drink alcohol so soon in the morning. No need to deny it, he was even the one dropping you off at work like that. Well, he had to do it if he wanted people to notice how far you've fallen. 

He doesn't feel bad, though. Your career wasn't going to last with or without Sunghoon's sabotage. He did you a favour. 

You can't handle being a model. If you could, none of that would have happened. You wouldn't have gained weight, you would have been suspicious of the amount of calories Sunghoon was feeding you. The bottles of wine wouldn't have been so tempting and smoking weed wouldn't have ever occurred to you as a good idea. 

You shouldn't be ashamed of it, sometimes things just don't work out like we would have wanted them to. 

"Did you see the article they wrote about me?" You ask, still looking outside. "You surely did, I bet that's all they're talking about..." 

He sits down beside you and you eventually turn around, facing him. You care so much about what others think of you. It must be so tiring having such a low self-esteem. He can only imagine it; seeing you look through the window like a sad puppy, your life finally making sense when Sunghoon comes home. 

"I did, but nothing of that matters to me," he answers, the most honest he's ever been. And even if he had to lie, it's not like you wouldn't have believed him. You always trust whatever he says. 

You don't reply, your head still filled with many thoughts. 

"Hey, come here," he softly tells you, patting his thigh. You straddle his lap, setting your hands on his shoulders. He cups your chin, forcing you to look at him as you keep avoiding his gaze. "Whatever they say, whatever their name is, nothing will ever be more important than you." 

Because who is he if he lets some article affect the way he sees you? He's known you since the beginning of your career and he stayed till the end of it. 

He knows you better than everyone else. He was with you during your highs and lows and he'll still be there for the next ones. There's nothing in the world that could make him leave you. After everything he's done to have you, there's no way he'll go away. 

How cowardly of him if he does. He can't leave when he's promised he'd heal you—close all of your past wounds and create other ones. He may be selfish, but there's one thing that he isn't and it's a fucking liar. He sticks to his words, and when he says he'll never leave you, that means he'll never, never abandon you—he'll never leave your side, not even once. He can't risk it.

[angelfic]

jason todd x reader

warnings — mentions of blood, death, violence, weapons, jealousy. unedited!!

a/n; i have to fight myself not to make reader have certain traits of mine like my anger issues but sometimes she deserves to be a little crazy. as a treat.

JASON TODD with someone that matches his freak.

You have so much patience and grace for him and he loves you for the way you make him feel less broken every day you’re together. But he won’t lie that he enjoys it when you’re the one who goes a little crazy.

He teaches you self defence pretty regularly, because he knows he can’t always be there, protecting you on the streets of Gotham and he’d rather you be prepared for any given scenario.

You’re a good student, listening to his every word and successfully mastering most of the manoeuvres he teaches you. He enjoys teaching you for many reasons, one of them being that he has an excuse for keeping his hands on you. But his favourite thing is the way your eyes light up when you manage to knock him off his feet or land a hit.

You ask him if he’s alright because there’s a pink flush kissing his cheeks and he mumbles that he’s fine, but really he’s blushing because he’s embarrassed about the sick thoughts he’s having about you being able to physically hurt him. That is until you grab one of his knives off the table.

You twirl it between your fingers, seemingly fascinated with the way the warm lighting of your apartment reflects off the blade, showing off its fatally sharp edges.

“Would you teach me how to stab a guy?”

He feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. Your voice is so sweet, asking him such a question so politely and who is he to deny you?

Never in a million years will Jason think he deserves you, and there’s always going to be a little voice in his head that says you could leave him at any given time for any one of your choosing. Which is why he gets jealous really easily, but he tries his best to hide it as not to scare you away.

Not that it would, since you never bother hiding the scowl on your face when you catch another girl throwing glances at him now and then. Jason doesn’t even notice the other girl until he looks over at you and sees the dark look in your eyes and suddenly his blood runs hot.

God forbid a girl tries to talk to Jason in a flirty way, because you’re immediately there, wrapping your arms around his waist, fingers sneaking under his leather jacket.

“Hey, babe,” you say, voice deliberately sweet as you look up at him. “I was looking for you.”

“That so, sweetheart?” he murmurs, amusement flickering across his blue eyes as his arms naturally find your waist. He completely forgets there was even another girl talking to him until you turn around to stare her down.

“And you are?”

“Oh, uh, no one,” she says, faltering slightly, her eyes still glued to Jason. “I was—”

“Right,” you cut her off, a smile gracing your face, but your voice is flat and devoid of any emotion. “We were just leaving.”

You don’t bother waiting for a response before you’re dragging him out of there and he’s gladly letting you.

Your smile drops as soon as you’re both alone and you’re letting go of him, walking faster ahead of him. He catches up to you easily, trying not to laugh when you bat his hands away. “I hope the two of you are very happy together,” you snap, refusing to look at him.

Jason grins, stepping in front of you to stop you. You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. “You could have shut that down, you know.”

He exhales a laugh, tilting his head and smiling even wider at how pissed off at him you look. “There was nothing to shut down,” he says truthfully, stepping closer to invade your personal space and uncrossing your arms to pull you closer. “Plus, I like seeing you a little jealous.”

A little is a bit generous since you look downright murderous, but he’s not complaining in the slightest.

You still refuse to look at him. “I am not jealous. I could have easily beaten her ass,” you mutter.

Jason huffs out a laugh, and when you scoff and turn away, he catches your wrist and tugs you forward so you stumble against him, using his chest to steady yourself. His lips ghost against your ear, making you shiver slightly as he whispers, “My money’s on you, babe. And for the record, you’re the only one I’m ever looking at.”

Your irritation melts into something else entirely and you playfully roll your eyes at him. He knows he’s got you now, just like he’s aware of how much you pretend to hate that he knows how to handle you.

When he comes home, covered in blood finally allowing his shoulders to sag with exhaustion, you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. You smile when he enters your apartment, dropping a kiss to his cheek in greeting and guiding him to sit.

“Any of this blood yours?” you ask, calmly. He doesn’t miss the concern in your voice and the way you’re subtly checking each area covered in blood for any hint of a wound.

He shakes his head and your body relaxes. “Good,” you mutter, focused now on scrubbing away a spot of dried blood from out of his suit. You don’t bother attempting to clean his hair since you’ll get it out in the bath a bit later.

He watches you, waiting for you to ask a question that never comes. The question that he feels like the members of his family are always asking in an attempt to morality check him.

You’re not like them, though. Your expression remained unfazed when the washcloth in your hands is more red than whatever colour it was before.

His jaw tightens. “You’re not gonna ask?”

“Ask what, Jay?” You tilt your head, pausing in your movements. He hesitates for a second.

“How many?”

Understanding dawns on your face and you slowly nod. “Ah. Well. Do you want me to ask?”

He studies you for a long moment as you resume your work with the washcloth, moving to the areas that the blood seeped through a gap in his suit to coat his wrists. The quiet hum of your shared apartment settles around you both. Then, he shakes his head. “No.”

“Alright then,” you say softly, setting the washcloth down. His bloodied shirt is next, torn in some places, damp with sweat from overexerting himself. You grab the hem, pulling it over his head and he lets you. Tossing it to the ground, you hesitate for the first time tonight when you catch sight of his torso. You frown, fingers skimming over his bruised ribs. Your touch is light, careful. You finally meet his eyes, unflinchingly. “Every single one of them deserved it.”

A sharp exhale leaves his lip, something between relief and something else — something darker. He shudders out a breath and finally allows himself to touch you, knowing you won’t break.

Pulling you closer, he rests his head against your chest, melting into you when your fingers start to lightly scratch against his scalp.

You aren’t scared of him. You never would be, he was pretty certain of that. He even sees some of that same darkness in you that he used to wish he could rid himself of. And he loves you for it.

Jason has never been more fucking gone for anyone in his life.

a/n cont.; only difference between reader and a psych ward patient is that she’s outside

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he���s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?” 

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

[apricotbuncakes]

OP is so fucking awesome for including the sexual intrusive thoughts because yeah. People do have them. And they are distressing. But they're one of the types of intrusive thoughts that are hardest to open up about and seek help for, because they're so terrifying to admit you have. Like, even in therapy, I can't admit that I have them because I don't want my therapist to think that I actually want to act on them. I don't!! I really really don't. And having those thoughts are fucking awful.

I have to actively avoid the people I like if the thoughts get too intense, to try and redirect my line of thinking to something else before I can see them again. Because if I don't, the thoughts persist and persist, taking over my regular thoughts until I can't think of anything else but those horrible actions (and this applies to my intrusive thoughts about murder too, not just sexual ones).

People have started saying 'intrusive thoughts' when they mean 'impulsive thoughts' so when someone with genuine intrusive thoughts is honest about what that's like and what their thoughts say, people who have conflated the two assume "oh this person actually wants to act on their intrusive thought". Which yeah, if that were true would be awful in a lot of cases (not all intrusive thoughts are violent acts, such as the mind readers example, but that doesn't mean they aren't distressing or intrusive). But the definition of intrusive is 'unwanted, invasive'. Intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive thoughts that people do not want and do not want to act on.

Actually, one of the best videos I've ever seen about this is Thomas Sanders' Sanders Side episode about intrusive thoughts, and how to handle them. It genuinely helped me so much in addressing mine and I always recommend it, because through the acting, Thomas shows what it's like internally to have unwanted and invasive thoughts, and it doesn't shame the people who have intrusive thoughts in the process.

In the episode it's revealed that Thomas' intrusive thoughts are an extension of his creativity, but specifically the creativity he has shunned for being 'wrong'. (This isn't a one to one with my experience, I don't see my intrusive thoughts as part of my creativity, but the rest of this does apply to me). Thomas learns that trying to ignore the thoughts will only make them worse, and that to handle them he has to acknowledge that they exist, but also acknowledge that they don't make him a bad person for having them. Clearly he doesn't want to do the things the thoughts tell him to.

For myself, I've realized the best way to help with my intrusive thoughts is using them for creativity. I use fanfiction and put my intrusive thoughts in them, using my Blorbos to get the thoughts out and associate them with something creative rather than just the actions itself. It's why I have so many fanfics with noncon in them. I absolutely do not condone those actions. I'm just using the fanfics to get the thoughts I don't like out of my head (and I ALWAYS tag them appropriately so people coming across my fics know that there's dark content involved so they can avoid it). I also use them to examine parts of myself with related trauma, assigning aspects of my perspective of the situation to different characters.

It's also why I'm a huge advocate for no censorship in creative works. Because I know that just because someone writes something or someone doing a bad thing, that doesn't mean they condone it. I sure as hell do not condone the actions in my fics spawned from intrusive thoughts, but I still write them because it's a creative outlet, a way to get rid of the nasty buggers. And when I'm done I balance it out with something more positive to take my mind off things.

TLDR; Sexual intrusive thoughts are fucking awful things to have and are very distressing. People who have intrusive thoughts do not want to act on them because by definition the intrusive thoughts are unwanted and invasive.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[quietstormxr]

Home

Part 2 of 'Forgotten'

Angst, Fluff

Poll Chosen : Xaden Riorson x Reader

Summary: After leaving Navarre behind, you promise yourself you will fight with or without your dragon and beloved. Fighting though, for some reason always leads you to Xaden.

A/N: FW/IF Spoilers.

Word Count: >28k (settle in and get comfy)

I really hope y'all enjoy this one. Let me know what you think.

Part 1

What does one do when they run away from their dragon and desert their war college? 

Hide, of course. 

Pausing at a copse of trees, you sink down to your knees and pull the now tattered cloak as firmly around your shoulders as you can. The bitter chill of the wind has begun to settle into your bones as you miss the warmth of a roaring fire and warm bed.

Days of traveling by foot have taken a grueling toll on your body. Though you haven’t gone hungry, thanks to your foresight of paying attention to infantry during RSC missions, the small game that you’ve caught and cooked over small fires has not done much to satisfy your hunger. The fire, in turn, barely warms your hands and feet when the night chill settles in.

As your head rests against the back of a tree, you take a deep breath trying to clear your mind. Even though you succeeded in your plan to slip away, it doesn’t take away the hurt that has twisted like a knife in your heart every step growing more painful than the last. Taking shallow breaths, you try to will away the devastation that seems to settle in your entire being.

The connection to your dragon has seemed to go dormant, a hollow feeling taking its place in your soul. You’re unsure if it will ever break completely, but you haven’t tried to pull towards it either. 

Reflecting on the bond, you can’t help but wonder if your dragon is glad to be rid of a rider that let themselves fall into the background. You feel a sense of cowardice and guilt wash over you at leaving everyone to fight the coming war. It’s that heartache of being a coward, for your dragon and beloved, that finally solidified a decision for your probably short future. 

As you were already in Poromiel, you knew there was no going back to Navarre. Besides, the Poromish have been fighting for much longer and are attacked more often if your experience in Resson was anything to go by.  

A few days prior you came across a small village, the people there wary of you dressed in all black leathers. Those reactions caused you to immediately find the nearest tailor and buy a new set of clothes with the little money you had with you.  The tailor was obviously distrusting of you, but no one was going to turn down coin when living in a small village, never knowing when your next sale would be. 

Although you purchased a wool shift dress, you didn’t have enough for a new cloak, hence the tattered holes that riddled yours from days of sleeping in the woods. 

Taking a deep breath, you lay down to get some sleep for the night hoping that the villagers were right, and you will arrive in Pavis in the morning. 

At the first sign of dawn, you sit up stretching out your back and muscles that have cramped during the night from sleeping on the hard ground. As soon as you feel blood flowing back into your extremities, you stand slowly wiping the sleep from your eyes. Staggering forward, you head toward the small stream you had noticed before picking this area to camp for the night. 

As soon as you arrive you drop down and splash the cold water on your face and drink your fill of the clean, cool water. The shock of cold sends a shiver down your body, doing wonders in pushing the last vestiges of sleep from your mind.

You begin walking in the same southeastern direction the villagers had directed you in just four days ago. Letting a small groan fall from your lips, you try to forget the sluggish feeling that has overtaken your body from so many days of travel. 

It’s as if Amari and Zinhal have finally thought to bless you as you finally see a large town come into view. A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally see a town that rivals Chantara and not just a small village with nothing there.

You drag your tired body to the first tavern you see and take a deep breath at the smell of spiced, roasted meats filling your lungs. A second later, your stomach growls loudly in protest of not being filled. Sitting down at the bar, you open your pack fishing for the remaining coin.

Pulling out your small purse, you drop the contents on the bar in front of the barkeep.

“What can I get for this?” You ask, hoping beyond hope that you can get something filling. 

“Not much. I can probably get you a small bowl of stew and a glass of wine.” The barkeep replies giving you a slightly suspicious look. 

It dawns on you that the man can probably hear the accent you have when you speak the Krovlish language. You may be proficient, but it’s been almost impossible to hide your accent.

“That would be lovely.” You say hoping that you can seem as harmless as possible. At least you know that no one will see the daggers that are strapped to your body since the shift you bought covers them well. 

As soon as you exchange the coins, you are presented with a small steel bowl filled with a delicious smelling stew of beef and local vegetables. You dig in, savoring every single bite that begins to warm you from the inside out, letting out a contented sigh as the food hits your empty stomach. As you continue eating, you can see the barkeep watching you from the corner of your eye. In order to beat some of the suspicion, you take the chance and begin talking. 

“Can I ask if you are currently looking for any help?” You ask as you begin to bring the wine cup to your lips. 

The barkeep, a middle-aged man with bronzed skin and dark blue eyes that are clearly analyzing your motives. “You don’t seem like you’re from here. Where are you coming from?”

At the question, you startle slightly but make sure to hide your surprise at the question. “I’ve been displaced since the invasion in Resson.”

You decide that being as truthful as possible will be the only way to go, hopefully garnering the trust of the man you are currently speaking with. The barkeep continues to look you over, but you don’t miss the pitying gaze that he gives you. You can’t help but scoff internally as you realize how in the dark the people of Navarre have become, but obviously venin attacks are openly spoken about.

“I’m looking for a bed and to make some money.” You begin to explain exactly what you’re trying to find. “Eventually, I hope to join the rest of your military to fight against the threat that’s being ignored past your borders.”

“And why would I believe that? You’re obviously Navarrian. What if you’re just here to cause trouble?” The barkeep drolls on, but the calculation in his eyes is obvious. “Besides, I thought only a riot of dragon riders helped to fight in Resson.”

The wince is impossible to keep off your face. Taking a large sigh, you let everything out. You tell the barkeep that you were a rider, having since left your dragon, Basgiath, and Navarre behind. You try to convey the conviction you feel about helping the people of Poromiel and the overarching continent, even recounting the tale of the little girl you saved. As you begin to finish, you can see the hard lines of the barkeep’s expression begin to smooth. 

“I’m not sure how you pulled off leaving a dragon behind, as well as Basgiath, but you seem genuine.” He says matter-of-factly. “Tell you what…We’ll have a trial. You help around the tavern with any tasks given and you can stay on the cot near the kitchens.”

“And, if you’re serious about joining the war effort, I’ll get in touch with those I know in the military and see if I can get you involved.” The thankful smile that falls across your face is a relief from the sadness and fear that had gripped you over the last few days. 

“That sounds wonderful.” There’s no way to hide the earnestness in your voice. “I appreciate your kindness and willingness to give me a chance. Things haven’t been easy the last few days.”

“Well, if you’re going to be staying here, introductions are in order. My name is Redvers, but you can call me, Red. Ceridwen is my wife, and she runs the kitchens.” Red holds out his hand to shake and you take it enthusiastically, happy to finally be able to have someone to at least converse with and give you a chance. 

“I’m Y/N. I really won’t be able to thank you enough for this.”

He chuckles. “Don’t thank me too much yet, you haven’t worked or have even seen where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I doubt any cot could be worse than the cold, hard ground.” You mutter ruminating on how nice it will be to sleep somewhere other than on the forest floor.

“Come, you can begin working tomorrow. Tonight, you can rest and get settled.”

Red leads you to a small room that is only large enough to house a cot and small table. You look back at him and smile as you take your pack off and place it next to the table. 

“Let me know if you need anything, the tavern is usually open late into the evening.” Red says before turning and closing the small door. 

You immediately try to light a mage light and as you try for the third time, it finally hits you. All the powers you had are now gone. You fumble in the room until you find a candle and a flint to light it. As soon as the small flame is lit, you fall to the cot and your head falls back onto the pillow. 

Finally feeling some semblance of safety, all the emotions you’d drowned out since a silver haired girl entered the scene crashes down at once. 

Staring at the beams of the ceiling, you try to normalize your breathing, but its useless. Your body has gone into shock, panic overtaking your every sense. Breathing is erratic, and tears are streaming down your face in a torrent as your body begins to shiver and shake in response to your breaking. You turn to the side and curl up into the tightest ball you possibly can and let yourself fall completely apart. 

You’re unsure of when or how you fell asleep, but as you wake with a pounding headache, you realize at some point in the night your body must’ve given out. The emotion that overtook you taking every ounce of energy you had left in your body. As you trudge from the bed, you look to see someone brought a pitcher of water while you’ve been out. 

Pouring yourself a cup of water and staring out of the small window you hadn’t noticed when you entered, you try to take a deep breath though all you feel is a hollowness. As you stare into the night sky, the sadness of now being alone settles like a heavy cloak. All you can do is count your breaths and hope that you made the right decision. 

A few days go by, and you find yourself getting into the groove of assisting in the tavern. You begin noticing the townspeople that seem to come in regularly. A few fliers have also made themselves known, although you know they have no idea their enemy is feeding them stew and serving them wine and ale. 

You grow close to both Red and Ceridwen, learning of their story and their families. You never thought you would find such wonderful and caring people, especially when you just randomly walked into this space. They welcomed you as if you were the daughter they never had. 

Ceridwen began taking you under her wing and helping cook in the kitchens, teaching you recipes you’d never seen before. It was there that you could hear the conversations and gossip from those coming through the tavern. 

“I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to accomplish with Sorrengail.” Your ears immediately perk up at the name going to stand closer to the serving window of the kitchen.

“Look Cat, it doesn’t matter what he’s doing either way. The betrothal is null and void. There is no reason for you to bother with Riorson any longer.” Your eyes flash as you realize who they are talking about, but then they furrow trying to place the name Cat. 

“You and I both know he’s not really in love with her. If there’s one thing that I learned being betrothed to the bastard is that he’s incapable of feelings besides calculation and revenge.” You’re unsure why but her words about Xaden make your blood begin to boil. 

“Just because he wasn’t emotionally available for you doesn’t mean he’s emotionless. Stop being so petty.” The other girl counters, obviously trying to put this Cat girl in her place.

“Secondly, if that is the case, what would you call the other girl that always had him distracted.” 

“Oh her, she was never a threat. Besides, look how easily she was left behind. The group didn’t even notice they were leaving with a riderless dragon when flying out of Resson. Some feelings he had for her if she was that forgettable.” The defiant tone in Cat’s voice causes a stone to settle in your stomach. 

With the last statement, you move out of earshot of anyone in the tavern. The knife that’s been embedded in your heart since you disappeared turns a little tighter making it hard to breathe. You can’t help but wonder when the knife will just explode and either kill you or leave you so emotionless you can’t be hurt anymore.

The rest of the day passes as if molasses through the eye of a needle. When you are finally able to retire for the night, you fall on your cot and try to breathe through the heartache that seemed to settle inside you, a tight band constricting further and further across your chest. 

When you rise the next morning, you are more set than ever that you need to get to the front lines of this war. If you are going to lose your life, you might as well lose it while trying to fight the real enemy, maybe then the hollow feeling in your chest will stop. 

As soon as you can, you go to speak with Red. “Have you had any luck finding someone to connect you with the military?”

The surprised look on Red’s face is almost comical, maybe he didn’t think you were serious about that part. He motions for you to sit down at a stool, and he sits next to you.

“I spoke with one of the commanders of the drifts. She has instructed that if you are interested, you will have to bring your supplication to Viscount Tecarus in Cordyn.” Red finishes and he looks at you directly as if to ascertain if this is what you want.

“How exactly do I get to Cordyn from here?” Asking that question makes his face fall slightly.

“Are you sure that is the path you wish to take? Ceridwen and I are more than happy to help you and let you continue living here. We’ve both come to enjoy your company over the past weeks.” The sad look that Red gives you causes you to let out a sad smile. You never thought deserting your position as a rider would end up leading you to people who had become surrogate parents. 

You get up and sling your arms around Red. Although startled, he wraps his arms around your waist in a warm hug. 

“You really have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear you say that.” You pause trying to find the right words. “But all my life I’ve been left behind. Now, I have the opportunity to stand up for those who cannot and if I fall doing so, at least I know I died honorably.”

You can see the sadness in his face as he comes to terms with the fact that you won’t be changing your mind. Red gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand.

“Give me a few days and I will help get you to Cordyn. On foot or by carriage it takes several days, but I may be able to get you a flight with one of the gryphons.”

Your eyes widen as you take in his words. “Would a gryphon even allow someone besides their flier on their back? Won’t they know that I was a dragon rider?” You can’t help the thought and fear that grips you. 

“Yes, you would be allowed to fly. And no, they won’t know you were a rider.” Red says with so much conviction your brows knit together. “You see I know a little about bonds, between gryphons and dragons.”

“When a bond is tested by the rider or flier, it can be broken if the gryphon or dragon chooses to do so. I’m unsure if your dragon has chosen to break the bond, as its hard for a human to decipher, but the gryphon won’t be able to sense it as it is buried.”

“How exactly do you know all of that?” You can’t keep the confused look off your face at the new information.

“Because back in my younger days, I was a gryphon flier myself.” Your eyes widen as you take in the new information. 

“Why didn’t you kill me on-site?” The question forms unbidden on your tongue and escapes before you can stop it.

Red gives you a warm smile before stating simply. “Because you fought for those who needed help. You chose to aid someone you were taught was the enemy without question and saved a young girl. Valor like that is worth more than just being classified as a dragon rider or gryphon flier.” 

Without even forming the thought, you find yourself back in his warm embrace. “Thank you for trusting me and recognizing something in me that most other people seem to take for granted.”

“I think you underestimate how many people see your loyalty, honor, and valor. However, I do believe that all those qualities can be taken for granted. It’s not uncommon to be left behind when you quietly lift people up.” He pauses with a thoughtful look on his face. “It isn’t usually until those people lose the person that held them high that they realize everything they had and lost.”

With those words, Red leaves you to get to work getting the tavern set up for the day. 

The parting words seem to continue to float in your mind for days. You never wanted to be taken for granted, but it seemed like your entire life people always just assumed you would be there. You knew that your nature to be a safe haven in the storms of life for everyone was something people loved. However, when it was calm, you always felt that people would let you drift behind. A forgotten force only needed to bolster someone in times of trouble.

Thinking your time at Basgiath over, you realized that you had always been a haven for Xaden and his group. You were constantly there trying to help them in every way you could. What you didn’t realize was that they played you for a fool, taking advantage of your willingness to help. 

Reflecting, you remember all the times you told them about the weapons that Emmetterio would have brought in and even showed them the forge at Basgiath. You had signed up for weapons maintenance, and they ended up having clear access to everything they were looking for from you. You shake your head as all the small things you missed come crashing down. 

Luckily today was a rare occasion where Ceridwen had you going to the market to pick up supplies, so you weren’t trying to serve anyone as the reality of everything began to crash into you. 

You stop on your way to the market and let yourself sink down on a large rock not far from the road. You want to cry, but you just don’t have any tears left to give. Time and time again you feel like you were just a pawn in someone’s game. 

Anger at yourself, Xaden, and everyone that you considered a friend at Basgiath begins to make your blood heat. How could you have been so naïve?

With a tumult of emotions roaring through your body, you head back to the tavern, the market all but forgotten. A new determination coils inside your mind as you realize the only way to get through these feelings is to be useful. You want to get lost in the adrenaline of war, of putting your life on the line and not caring the outcome.

As if Red can read your thoughts, the minute you return to the tavern he is waiting with a dark-haired man in form fitting brown leathers. You pull up short not expecting to have anyone expecting your arrival.

“Ah, just who I was looking for.” Red says as he gestures for you to join him and his companion. 

You begin forward hesitantly not really knowing how to proceed with someone that is so visibly a flier. All of your instincts from years of hearing they were the enemy causing your trepidation to rise, though you try to tamp it down as Red gives you a look of assurance. You take a deep calming breath and know that you must put your trust in the man that has helped you over the last two months.  

“Y/N, this is Drake Cordella.” Red says motioning to the man next to him. Drake immediately puts his hand out to shake yours and gives you a warm smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Drake says warmly, and you give him a small nod and smile in return while shaking his hand firmly.

“Pleasure to meet you as well. I’m assuming that Red has informed you on my want to join the war effort.” You decide bluntness about the whole situation is better than trying to skirt around the edges. 

“Yes, he’s filled me in on your situation shall we say.” A questioning look is immediately shot to Red who is still just smiling back at you.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Drake is a close friend of mine. He won’t divulge any information if you wish to keep it secret.” Red reassures you letting your heart settle a little. 

“I assure you, giving up any information on you is the last thing I want to do. However, I am curious as to how things are for you since being separated from your bond for so long.” Taking a look around the tavern, you can’t help the unease that settles at talking about this topic in the open.

“Would you both mind talking somewhere a little more private? I haven’t gone this long without being discovered to out myself now.” You ask, hoping you can go to Red’s office that is at the back and soundproof.

“Of course, lets head to my office.” Red says leading the way to the back.

As soon as the three of you are inside and comfortable, you take a deep breath and share the details of the past two months with them. Divulging the way your bond seems to be underneath a glass layer or buried at the bottom of a clear lake, you can still sense the pull, but it has weakened enormously. Confirming that you haven’t been able to communicate with your dragon or even draw any semblance of power. Turning on mage lights, powering pens, opening and locking doors with magic, all seem to be lost to you with the bond being silent. 

They both seem to listen in rapt fascination. You realize it may not be ideal to tell the ‘enemy’ all this information, but you are certain that you won’t be seeing any Navarrians any time soon. While talking, you watch Drake move to brace his elbows on his knees as if you are telling the most fascinating story he’s ever been told.

“You were one of the riders that fought in Resson?” Drake questions, his face becoming one of contemplation. 

“Yes, I rescued a young girl and killed a venin before, as some would say, I deserted my riot.” You bring your head down to the floor suddenly ashamed of your actions. 

“None of that.” You catch Drake waving his hand off noncommittally at your comment. “You obviously don’t know this, but your disappearance is well known in Poromiel. I believe those in Navarre believe you are dead, at least I believe that is part of the story Riorson and Sorrengail spun.”

Your nose crinkles and stomach sours at the mention of both Xaden and Sorrengail, two names you hope you’d never hear again, let alone see.

“You see, I believe you have someone looking very intently for your whereabouts.” You can’t help the scoff that immediately leaves your lips. If there is anything you won’t believe its that anyone from Navarre is looking for you. 

“Besides, I believe your dragon has kicked up a bit of a fuss for those in the vale if the rumors are to be believed.” You stare back at Drake not believing how much he seems to know about you and your situation. Shaking your head, you decide its time to now get back down to the real business and not idle gossip. 

“Will any of that deter you from taking me to help the Poromish with this war?” You question. “You see, I don’t rightly care about parsing through any attachments to Navarre or any of the people in it. However, I do care about helping as much as I can to eliminate the threat of the venin.”

A sly smile marks a change in Drake’s demeanor moving past the questioning of your ties to Navarre. 

“I respect that is your decision. Red and I have discussed this, and I wanted to see if you would like to accompany me to Cordyn to meet my uncle.” Drake informs.

“If meeting with the Viscount is the only way that I can prove my intention to aid, then I’m ready to leave whenever you are.” The conviction in your voice makes Drake give you a curt nod, even as Red gives you a sad smile.

“Ceridwen and I are going to miss you, Y/N.” Red says sincerity lining every word. “Please know that you will always have a home here.”

Those words cause you to immediately stand and cross the room, wrapping your arms tightly around the man that welcomed you warmly into his domain. 

“No words will convey how thankful I am that you took a chance on me. Thank you for your loyalty, comfort, and love. Without those things, I’m not sure if I would’ve survived much longer.” You whisper for only him to hear. “I will be forever grateful to you for absolutely everything you’ve done for me.”

After giving him another tight squeeze, you head to your rooms to begin packing the few things that were yours. A light knock on the door brings your attention away from combing through the last of the items. Before you can say a word, Ceridwen comes in carrying a small box and a sad smile on her lips.

“Red told me that you’ll be heading out with Drake soon.” She says matter-of-factly moving to stand at your side while you give a small nod. “You may not have been with us long but know that you’ll always be like a daughter to us.”

As she finishes, she hands out the small box to you. You take it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you as you open it. Inside a black velvet box is a gold necklace with a small round pendant. You examine the pendant, and your eyebrow raises at the runes carved into one side. Ceridwen goes to take the necklace from you and places it on your neck. 

“Keep this on you at all times, especially in Cordyn.” She states firmly. “You may or may not know this, but fliers usually have gifts that entail mind work.”

She pauses as if thinking through her words as she grabs your shoulders and turns you around. “You can trust Drake, but there are those who – if they find out who you are- will do anything to make your life miserable.”

Staring back at Ceridwen, you know that the words she is giving you are for your benefit, not to scare you or coerce you to stay. 

“Thank you.” You begin as you wrap her in a hug just as fierce as the one you gave her husband. “I know we may not cross paths again, but please know how much you and Red mean to me. I told him already, but there aren’t enough thank you’s in the world to give you for everything that you’ve done for me.”

Ceridwen hugs you back just as fiercely before stepping away, you must take a deep breath when she steps back and you see the tears swimming in her eyes.

Not even an hour later, you’ve shouldered your pack and dressed in the only pants and shirt that you had which happened to be some old clothes of Red’s. As you walk out of the tavern, it’s impossible not to turn and give it a once over, committing every small crack, hole, and crevice to memory. Since you had started at Basgiath three years ago, you were unsure if you’d ever be in another place that hurt your heart so much to leave, but now here you are.

As you walk towards Drake, you can see the outline of his gryphon in the distance. The warmth and sadness that you felt leaving the tavern now turning into fear at the creature in front of you. 

Obviously sensing your trepidation, whether from your expression or the way your walk slowed, Drake holds out his hand as if in comfort. 

“I know this will be intimidating, but I promise he won’t hurt you.” Even though his words mean to placate your fear, you can’t help the raise of one of your brows in challenge.

“D-Does h-he know that I’m a dragon rider?” Your voice slides into a quiet whisper as you ask the last part of the question.

Drakes warm chuckle begins to ease the tension that has settled in your stomach. “Yes, just like your dragon, its impossible to get him out of my head.”

You look at Drake in fascination that he can seem to break the tension you’re feeling without doing more than say just the right thing.

“Are you always so comforting? Or do you have some sort of agenda here?” Your hand flies to your mouth in horror that you couldn’t stop your words. Worry is short-lived though when Drake lets out a warm booming laugh.

“I promise I have no ulterior motives.” A cocky smirk falling on his lips. “But I can’t help being born with such a charming nature.”

“And there it is.” You begin to tease as your tension continues to lighten. “I was wondering when your cocky side was going to come out.”

Without even realizing, his teasing had made you completely forget that you were headed directly for his gryphon. As you finally reach the animal, you can’t help but notice the amazing sheen to its feathers that still glints an impossible shade of gold in the moonlight. Everything about the creature seems softer than your dragon, although as you look at the talons below, you know that it can be just as vicious when it needs to be.  

Drake takes your hand and brings it to the gryphon’s face. You look at him uncertainly, your heartrate beginning to spike wondering if this is the part where you get fed to his talons and sharp beak. Although, your thoughts are cut short when the gryphon simply dips it and seems to sniff at your wrist.

“He isn’t going to bite. Gryphons just like to assess a person before they are allowed to ride. They, unlike most dragons, are willing to fly those in need of transportation, especially if their flier deems their purpose worthy.” Drake explains as he continues to hold your hand out. 

“Fascinating.” You say with no sarcasm in your tone. It’s not the first time since you left that you’ve wondered what exactly happened that caused dragons and gryphons to be so hostile to each other. However, you’re unsure if it’s the beings themselves or just the people that they bond with.

After a few minutes more, Drake drops your hand gently back to your side before taking your pack and securing it to his gryphon.

“if you don’t mind, I’d like you to sit in front of me.” Drake begins. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but the movement from gryphons compared to dragons is quite different and we don’t want you falling off.”

You shake your head and the next thing you know; he is hoisting you between the gryphon’s wings. 

“Now, you’ll need to scoot a little closer to his neck – yes – right there, perfect.” As he finishes, you are impressed with the ease in which he settles himself behind you. 

Without warning, they gryphon launches into the air, and you find yourself smacking directly into Drake’s chest. Your cheeks burning scarlet, you can do nothing but thank Zinhal it is already dark outside. 

“We’ll be flying at a lower altitude than you’re used to, so you should definitely be able to get some rest.” Drake explains, his mouth unnervingly close to your ear. 

You mentally slap yourself, but you can’t help the flush of your cheeks again. You close your eyes against the feeling, scolding yourself that it hasn’t been that long since a man has showed you attention.

You shake your head at his words and let your mind drift to the beats of the gryphon’s wings. Between the warmth of the lower altitude and the rhythmic flapping, you find yourself nodding off too quickly. 

Your consciousness slowly coming back, you snuggle into the warmth that has seemed to settle into your bones. It isn’t until you recognize the flapping of your wings that you are snapping to attention. Turning your head, you are met with Drake’s warm smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

“Have a nice sleep there?” He teases you. “I’m glad that I was a comfortable blanket.”

Your eyes widen in embarrassment as you quickly turn around back to the gryphon’s golden neck, the mortification burning in your cheeks.

Drake’s warm laugh breaks your embarrassment. “Don’t worry, it was pretty cute.”

Your head drops again in mortification, and you give a pout at his teasing, a frustrated huff leaving your lips. Though the feeling doesn’t stay around long when Drake begins to point in front of you.

Your eyes now widen, and jaw goes slack in absolute awe. Standing in stark relief to the blue of the coastline is a palace so intricate you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming. As your eyes roam quickly, you can’t decide if you should focus on the intricate white walls of gleaming marble, or the pools that look as blue as the sky. Trying to count the seemingly endless number of terraces and small gardens that jut out in all directions, you have a hard time concentrating on any one piece. 

“You didn’t tell me to expect this.” Now looking down at the oversized clothes you are in, you can’t help but feel like a peasant waiting to be judged by royalty. You scoff in your mind because that is exactly what’s about to happen.

“Don’t let the palace and formality fool you. Besides, you won’t have to worry, you’re with me and I know Ceridwen gave you the necklace.” Drake’s tone is a cool calm and you try to infuse your feelings with the same. You are surprised to learn that Drake knew of the necklace but shrug your shoulders knowing that Red and Ceridwen trust him. At this point, you know there is no turning back, although there’s no certainty that you will like what will happen once you step foot in that palace.

Finally landing in a garden off to the side, you look around to see nothing but ornamental shrubs to your left and right. After years at Basgiath and life in Navarre, everything about this place seems overdone. 

Drake dismounts from the gryphon and immediately holds his hand out waiting to steady you as you dismount as well.

“Even though you aren’t a prisoner in any way. I need you to stick close.” Drake says with a serious tone. “You don’t need to fear for your life, but others may be inclined to harm you if they see you walking around by yourself in this clothing. Or at least make your life difficult.”

“What’s wrong with my clothing?” You ask indignantly.

“Nothing,” he says with slight exasperation. “You just have to understand that there won’t be anyone around the palace that doesn’t have a noble’s clothing on. Let’s just say my uncle is a fan of protocol.”

You shake your head understanding now what Drake is trying to convey. “I promise I’ll stick close by.”

Drake motions his hand for you to begin walking and he matches you stride for stride. The closer you get, the more in awe you find yourself. You come to an immediate stop as you look to your right and see nothing but a cloud of butterflies.

You hear a light snicker and turn to see Drake laughing gently at your obvious shock. “I know everything is a lot to take in on first glance, but I promise you can have the grand tour after we get you situated.”

Nodding, you continue walking into hallway upon hallway seeming to get more and more decorative as you descend into the heart of the palace. 

“Good morning, Sterling.” Drake says to a guard standing at two large wooden doors. “I assume my uncle and Syrena are behind there.”

“Yes, Captain. They are both anticipating your arrival.” As he finishes, Sterling looks back at you in judgment and you begin fiddling at his intense stare, but as a soldier he clearly knows better than have his feelings shown on his face.

Drake moves forward and opens the heavy wooden doors, moving them both to the side. You are met with an impressive study dripping with indulgences. There are crystal vases filled with exotic flowers, shelves with thousands of tomes, and fine carpets that have motifs you’ve never seen before.

The shocking details in the room cause you to completely miss the stares of the two other people. But as soon as you look back, you want to do nothing more than back away out of the room.

“Picking up strays now cousin?” The female in the room says. From Drake’s question to the guard, you realize this must be Syrena though you can’t help but bristle at her words.

“If by strays, you mean someone who has previously fought venin, then yes. If you’re just trying to be rude, then screw off.” Your eyebrows shoot up. Of all the things you expected, you never thought you’d hear someone who just met you defend your honor.

“Both of you are acting like children in front of our guest.” A clearly older voice rings out as you watch an older man step out from behind the large desk at the end of the room. 

“Uncle.” Drake says in a slow drawl. “I was in Pavis, and a friend made me aware of someone that was interested in fighting with us against the venin threat. She was there for about two months.”

“I see.” Tecarus says as he begins to walk around you as if inspecting a shiny new toy. “Does our guest possess any gifts or interesting talents?”

The drawl of his voice sounds a shiver down your spine before Drake speaks up again. “Besides combat experience, no she doesn’t possess any other talents.”

Drake looks at you as if wanting to confirm and you give him a small nod.  

“Drake says you’ve dealt with the venin before?” Tecarus asks as he continues to stalk closer to you.

“Yes.” The words leave your lips hesitantly. “I killed one in the combat that I have seen; however, I wouldn’t consider myself overly proficient.”

“Now, now dear. Don’t downplay your abilities. In fact, if the news Syrena has just brought to me is correct, you may have shown up at just the right time.” Drake comes to stand next to his uncle as he continues to make you uncomfortable with his piercing gaze. 

“What news Syrena?” Drake demands to the woman who has begun to step closer as well.

“The venin army is on the move and our intelligence tells us they may be making Zolya and the Academy their next target.” Syrena succinctly conveys the information, no emotion showing on her face.

All teasing in Drake’s face had long since disappeared. Everyone in the room tensed as Syrena continued to explain what the scouts had seen as the most recent movement. A shiver snaked around your body as the extent of the possible attack settled in your mind. 

“Are you planning on evacuating the cadets?” The question slipped from your lips before the thought even fully formed in your mind. 

The three people in the room turned to you seeming to finally remember your existence. You could see the hesitation in Syrena’s face to continue, but soon enough she was going over the evacuation plans for the Academy and the city overall. 

“I’m not a flier, but I would like to help in any way I can.” You hope that your voice is infused with the bravado that is flaring to life inside of you. 

After a few months of trying to bury your past, this seemed like the perfect way to carve out a new role for yourself. Try as you may, you hadn’t been able to get the phantom memories out of your mind. Phantom touches and small moments that had seemed so precious before only burned with dragon fire and stung as a scorpion’s tail. 

Shaking your head, you try to dispel the memories that had still been haunting your dreams. 

“If you’re willing to fight, I’m sure we can find a place for you.” Syrena confirms as Drake clasps a hand to your shoulder in acknowledgment. 

A little over a week later, you find yourself again seated in front of Drake flying towards Zolya. 

For the last week you had been working with Syrena and Drake on fighting, getting outfit in Poromish leathers, and learning as much as you could about the venin and their tactics in Poromiel thus far.

“Before we get to Zolya, we have a stop to make.” Drake says, though his tone belies there is more to this stop.

“Spit out exactly what you aren’t saying.” You spit tersely knowing there is something he isn’t saying.

“You’re going to want to stay with the gryphons and keep the hood of the cloak you have up.” He continues. 

“And you need to tell me exactly what the fuck is about to happen.” You toss back.

With an exaggerated sigh, he continues. “We’re going to pick up weapons from someone I don’t think you’re interested in seeing.”

There is no way that Drake can miss the way that your entire body stiffens like a wooden plank. Of all the things he could have told you, this was the last thing you could’ve possibly imagined. Your head whips around to look at Drake in the eyes.

“Are you telling me that you’re about to pick up weapons from Xaden Riorson.” Your voice comes out smaller than you want, but at this point you know that Drake knows exactly who you are. How would the Poromish not know when they have a bargaining chip?

Suddenly thoughts of betrayal flit across your mind, but before you can spiral too deeply, Drake breaks your thoughts. 

“I promise neither Syrena nor I will say anything about who you are. That is why I’m asking you to raise your hood, cover your face with your handkerchief in your pocket and stay with the gryphons.” You try to take a calming breath as you realize that they are both really trying to make sure that Xaden doesn’t know it’s you. 

Gods. Can you even shield anymore? You immediately begin to test your metal shields and try to reinforce them. The nostalgia that hits you at being back in your mind space is off-putting, the exercise being something you never thought you would do again. 

Sooner than you’d like, you feel the gryphons shift as they begin their descent. Without waiting, you take the handkerchief out of your pocket and tie it over your nose and mouth, after which you bring up the hood of your cloak as the gryphon hits the ground.

Drake easily dismounts and turns to assist you. “Remember, just stay here and keep your mouth closed and this will be over soon enough.” He gives your arm a small squeeze as he turns around and walks towards the small clearing. 

Your breathing begins to pick up as your eyes move to the distance in front of Drake and Syrena and see Sgaeyl and Chradh standing there, the imposing figures of the dragons causing your heart to flutter. All you can do is pray to Zinhal that neither dragon will be able to place your scent, be interested in looking too deeply into you, or tries to delve into your mind. Though no one can see you looking, you watch the entire scene take place. 

The breath catches in your throat as you lay eyes on the man that stole your heart in now what seems so long ago and in a completely different life. You keep your head angled down and let your eyes take in the sight of Garrick standing there next to him, studying them both for any injuries. You can’t say they would care if they knew you were here or not, but that doesn’t stop you from caring about their well-being.

Then the tone of Xaden’s voice brings you out of your reverie. “If you don’t stop with the attacks, we won’t have any choice but to stop the drops. Not only are the cadre already suspicious, but the higher rates in attack are making this harder to accomplish.”

“We are aware Riorson, but there is movement you are unaware of that we are currently on our way to try and contain. Actually, there’s plenty you don’t know, and frankly I’m unsure why the Assembly hasn’t been forth coming with what they know.” Syrena claps back, her tone just as menacing as Xaden’s. After spending time on the other side, you can understand the desperation the fliers are feeling.

“Look, we’ll do what we can.” Drake interrupts, breaking the tension between the two, trying to be the voice of reason. “Just know that the threat is getting increasingly worse. Besides, in two weeks’ time, we may not even be around to collect anything from you.”

“What do you mean?” Xaden asks forcing his tone to be a little calmer.

“I mean that we are trying to stave off an organized attack of a large city that will have more than devastating consequences. I’m sorry to be vague, but is your assembly’s job to inform you, not ours.” With that, Drake turns and continues back towards you.  

As if finally recognizing there is another flier in his midst, you watch with your hood covering your eyes as Xaden’s gaze flicks up to you. You don’t miss the uncertain expression on his face and the way he cocks his head slightly to the side as if trying to place you. If you didn’t know him so well, you would’ve missed the small twitch of his hand indicating he was utilizing his shadows. 

At that same moment, you blink down and see the shifting of shadows around your feet. Using every ounce of restraint, you make yourself stand completely still, letting the shadows coil around your feet in curiosity. Forcing breaths in and out, you solidify the shields you hope still work in your mental fortress as tightly as you can. 

The moment that Drake steps up next to his gryphon, you bring your head up fully and lock eyes with Xaden for one second before you turn and allow Drake to help you up. You keep your head firmly down as Drake mounts and just seconds later you are airborne.

As you drift from the meeting spot, Drake’s chuckle breaks your tumultuous thoughts. 

“Syrena is going to have her hands full the next time Riorson does a drop.” He gets out between fits of laughter. Looking over your shoulder, you give him a quizzical look.

“Oh, so you didn’t see then.” Drake explains wryly. “If I can read people as well as I think I can, Riorson either thinks he just saw a ghost or realized who you were and was so shocked he didn’t know what to do.”

Scrunching your nose at Drake’s comment you turn back to the front and let out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m assuming that since you said Syrena, you don’t normally have any interaction with Xaden.” You ask, now wondering exactly how this whole operation works.

“No. I don’t usually have time for such things.” Drake huffs an almost indignant sound coming from him, it causes your eyebrow to quirk, but you know better than to pry too deeply.

Falling into comfortable silence, you scan your surroundings noticing the changes in topography as you glide closer to Zolya. If there is one thing you can say for flying on a gryphon is that the lower altitude gives much more visibility to the lands around you. 

As you continue to observe the landscape, the familiar sound of rushing water fills your ears between the beats of gryphon wings. Looking down, the Stonewater River flowing below you can’t be mistaken. As dawn begins to break, you take the opportunity to soak in the colors and sounds of the river below you before the chaos that you are sure will ensue. 

Before you have enough time to absorb the beauty of the nature around you, the feeling of descent makes your stomach begin to rise to your throat. As you bring your eyes to the horizon in front of you, you see the fortress of Cliffsbane Academy rising from the ground. 

The foreboding stone is reminiscent of all the times you flew into Basgiath, but for some reason the fear that used to immediately settle in your bones at Basgiath doesn’t come. Unsure if it is just you moving past the fight of living or just accepting today may be your last, you don’t know. 

As the gryphon touches down in the flight field of the Academy, you can’t help the way your head swings as if on a swivel trying to map out your surroundings. A sarcastic huff leaves your mouth as you realize you are a dragon rider now standing in the beating heart of enemy territory. You wrestle with yourself trying to figure out if this is the best idea you’ve ever had or complete madness. 

Drake immediately dismounts and pulls you down soon after. Not letting any hesitation settle into your bones, you take a deep breath and stand tall, following close behind Drake as he confidently moves towards the entry doors.

“I’ll remind you to stay close by while we’re getting directives and moving everyone into their places.” Drake warns as you both continue to stride down the halls.

“Don’t worry. I have no interest in becoming fodder for the students here who may prefer to see me dead.” You challenge back, although there is no malice there.

Before long, Drake stops in front of two large doors and looks back at you giving you a tight nod. As he opens them, your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. The rotunda that you have entered is just as big as the one at Basgiath, but instead of dragon pillars, majestic gryphons in different states of flight line the interior. Golds, browns and whites highlight each other in alternating hues from floor to ceiling, where the colors fade into the painting of a beautiful blue sky. 

You aren’t awed for long when you hear a familiar sounding voice call out from the other side.

“Since when is picking up strays a new past time for you cousin?” A female voice purrs with a malignant sneer.

“Catriona, I’m only going to say this once.” Drake begins as he gives the similar looking female a stern look. “Play. Nice. This isn’t about you or some petty score over a man. She is here to help us, so you will treat her with respect.”

Catriona looks at you, eyes narrowed, while Drake continues. “That is an order, not a request.”

“Oh, I can play nice.” Catriona retorts though the mischief in her eyes shows you probably won’t like what follows. “Besides, what could be more of a punishment than being forgotten about not only by a man you thought loved you, but also your own dragon. You must really feel sorry for yourself to end up in flier leathers.”

You can’t help the slight flinch when she finishes her statement, though you can’t understand how she would even know what you looked like. And with that your entire being begins to feel the helplessness and utter betrayal of being left. A grief so sharp, it feels as if your heart may stop, hits you straight between the ribs causing your breath to hitch.

Drake must realize something because soon enough you watch as he grabs Catriona by the arm and gets into her face. “I said play nice. Quit it now.”

Catriona gives you one last glare before turning and walking away. You’re unsure what just happened, but the sting of her words slowly seems to lessen the further and further she gets away.

A clash of steel breaks you from your emotions at you and Drake both turn and stare at the doors you just entered through. A second later, a warning bell whistles out harshly and all hell breaks loose. You watch as flier cadets seem to come racing from all areas of the building.

“Come on, it seems we were a little later in the timing than we should’ve been.” Drake says ushering you towards the heart of the Academy. 

“It’ll be better if we separate. Where can I help in evacuating?” You say while running to keep up with Drake. 

“Follow this corridor and get out everyone that you can. Remember to use the two blades that I gave you if you come across a venin.” You nod your head sharply at the orders and immediately begin running toward the corridor assigned. 

As you go, you knock heavily on the doors before directing anyone coming out to head to the rotunda and towards their gryphons. You try to keep a tally in your head, but as you reach about twenty, your mind starts to spin. 

A dark cloud seems to enter your mind and no amount of shaking your head clears it. Continuing down the hall and constantly trying to clear your mind, you don’t notice the set of billowing robes that is at the end staring straight at you.

“Well, well. I didn’t expect to see you here.” A high-pitched shriek of a voice calls out as you open the door of the last room.

After ushering the last two cadets out, you finally look up and come face to face with the last creature you were hoping to see today.

Venin.

“See me here?” You taunt back in confusion. “You act as if you know me.”

“Oh, we always know a tortured soul when we see one. Especially one so exquisitely bleak as you.” The voice of the female venin shrieks. Your heart begins to race as you try to figure out your best way out of the situation, though things look disheartening when you realize you are at the dead end of a corridor.

“My Sage told me about the girl who was forgotten at the last battle he attended. He could feel the pain radiating off you in waves. He was very disappointed to have to leave you behind.” Everything the female is saying makes your head spin.

Suddenly awareness comes back to you, and you jerk in response to the now close proximity of the female. As you begin circling one another, the thoughts of the possible finalities of this predicament hit you. You don’t have time to dwell though as the female unsheathes a blade and goes to make the first strike.

Immediately parrying, you find yourself completely disadvantaged at the speed the female possesses. You utilize all the training you had done with Xaden and Garrick, but nothing seems to be enough to completely evade her blows. As you aim your own alloyed blade down to strike, you hiss as you feel a blade tear down your left arm. 

A fiery sting erupts from the wound as if hundreds of dragons are firing up and down your arm, but you don’t stop, you can’t. The female steps back slightly admiring her handywork which causes her downfall. You take the move for your advantage and charge directly at her. 

Even though she stepped back, your height made it easy to hit her right between the ribs. A shriek of a scream rends the air as she grabs at the alloyed dagger now protruding from her body. 

Watching as she falls to her knees, you find yourself backing against a wall, the sharp sting of scorpions radiating from your arm. Once the venin falls completely to the ground, you turn and look down. It is then you see the black that has begun to spider down your arm.

You begin to stumble back down the corridor towards the rotunda, hoping that you can drag yourself there. Movement begins to become sluggish as you get closer, hearing the battle still raging around you. Finally reaching the door, you look up and see people being directed out to the adjacent courtyard. Limping forward, you search for the familiar face of Drake.

As luck would have it, on the third pass of the hall, you finally spot him on the far corner. As if acutely aware of your stare, his head jerks up and his eyes land on you. Relief floods his face before it seems to turn to concern as you find yourself slowly sinking to the ground.

“Y/N!” You can hear Drake shout, although everything is beginning to sound far away. The harsh sounds of orders and footsteps seem to make up the background noise in your head, but nothing is clear anymore. Finally hitting the floor, you hiss out a pained breath as it begins to feel as if a thousand needles are running through your veins. 

“Y/N!” Drake shouts again and you see him materialize in front of your face. His voice is both a command and plea at the same time, though you’re unsure why.

As your vision begins to swim black, you think you hear him again. “You’ll be alright. We’re going to counteract the poison; you just need to hold on.”

The burning continues, your body convulsing with the heat of the venom in your blood. You can feel your whole-body tense as waves of fire rolls through. Darkness taking over your vision and your body beginning to slacken as the poison infiltrates your blood stream.

Each fiber of your body feels overloaded with fiery toxin and the loss of adrenaline. You try to open your eyes one last time, but your eyelids won’t obey your command, instead you find yourself slipping into oblivion.

----------

The first thing you notice is the quiet. Without opening your eyes, you listen but are only met with deafening silence. Continuing to lie unmoving, you take a deep breath before trying to open your eyes. Managing to finally get them open, though the effort seems unbearable, you are met with confusion as your eyes stare up at a beautifully decorative ceiling. 

Confusion tugs at your brain as you try to place this room that seems familiar, yet not. The decadence of the bedroom, even only by the ceiling you can see and the feel of the sheets on your bare skin, is something that seems familiar but not at the same time. Slowly, you let yourself move each one of your limbs, from your toes to your fingertips. 

You begin to move your arm and feel a lingering ache on your left. Bringing it up and over the covers your breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight. All along your arm are spidering black veins that seem to penetrate your skin.

“Don’t worry, eventually it will recede.” Immediately your head whips to your right towards the male voice. “It will take some time since we don’t have a mender and only healers, but it shouldn’t cause you any issues.” 

Your eyes encounter the warm gaze of Drake. Never before would you have thought the view of a flier would be a welcome sight, but your life hadn’t seemed to work out the way you’d thought anyway.

“H – How lo-long have I been out?” You rasp your voice scratchy with disuse and in desperate need of water.

While you finish your statement, Drake moves to the table next to the bed and brings you a fresh glass of water. You take the cup and drink greedily, the cool liquid calming the dryness.

“It’s been a week since the venin took Zolya.” Head jerking back towards Drake, your eyes widen at the revelation.

“Wh-what happened to all of those cadets?” Your heart begins to race as you panic over your life being saved over those fliers who were trying to learn and fight for their people. 

Drake gives you a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, we were able to evacuate Cliffsbane for the most part. Unfortunately, as with every battle with the venin, we weren’t able to save everyone.”

Your eyes immediately turn down at the news of the cadets that didn’t make it through the battle. This wasn’t the first time that you felt there was an unnecessary loss of life, and although you tried to make a difference, you always felt lacking.

A warm hand covers your forearm and gives a tight squeeze as you look up into Drake’s knowing eyes.

Days later, you’re finally feeling normal enough to get dressed and move about. Staring in the mirror after a shower, you begin to trace the lines of a particularly dark vein that moves across your chest to your left arm. Although you don’t feel the fiery pain that the poison elicited immediately, the phantom fire still seems to course through your veins as you trace the line. 

“It will fade soon enough.” A sharp feminine voice rasps causing you to whip your head to the right. Fighting the surprise that wants to plaster on your face, you turn to face the two women who are entering into the room you’re staying in. 

Turning around, you watch warily as Syrena and Catriona walk towards you. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company.” The saccharine dripping from your lips a stark contrast to your thoughts of the two women.

“Our Uncle seems to think we will be having Tyrrish company soon and for some reason he wants to dress you for the part of emissary.” The venomous tone Catriona adopts when telling you this information betrays her polite words.

“Dress me?” Your brows furrow at the thought. Hearing of such things happening was no surprise, however, not being part of a political family or born to royalty it was an action foreign to you. 

Syrena steps forward handing you the tunic you were about to put on. “Yes, even though he has more than enough gowns to alter in his repertoire, he wants to put you in something new.”

“Why though? What is he expecting from me?” You look back at Syrena hoping for some semblance of answers, though you’re unsure if she will provide any.

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t revealed what his plan is or what he seems to be expecting.” Syrena confirms. “Though if the consistent nagging I’ve been forced to partake in the last few weapons drops is any indication, I’m sure he’s trying to exploit Riorson’s weakness for you.”

You immediately scoff and roll your eyes at the comment. “Why would he be pestering you? He doesn’t even know I’m still alive, yet alone here of all places.”

“It seems the one look he caught at your eyes has reinforced his belief that you are indeed alive. And that I am more than aware of your whereabouts, which obviously is all correct.” Syrena gives you a deadpan look.

“But who knows why it would matter. He obviously couldn’t care less if he didn’t even notice your absence.” Catriona comments and you loathe to admit to yourself that she’s right. 

Your head begins to hang as the bitterness hardens in your heart at the thought of Xaden leaving you behind without even noticing. But wasn’t that the reason you ran? Didn’t you want him to forget? Didn’t you want to forget him? Unsure where these intense feelings of insignificance and uselessness have come from, your hand grabs at your chest as the ache intensifies feeling as if the organ may leap out of your chest. You try to calm yourself, but you can feel your breaths becoming shallow pants and the control it takes to hold in your sobs is immense.

“Cat!” You hear Syrena’s sharp tone in the background, though it seems like its underwater. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t even have her powers to shut you out.”

Words registering, you try to slam your shields up, but you can’t get past the ache and intense feelings of inconsequence.

“If she wants to be with Riorson, she’s going to have to be stronger than that.” Catriona spits back at Syrena. You try to drown the ache, but it isn’t until you hear the door slam that there seems to be a break in the intensity of the feelings.

Finally, you hear a set of footsteps approaching and look to the side to see Syrena looking at you with concern. 

“I’m sorry. I know Cat can be a piece of work sometimes, but I thought she could be more civil than that considering you saved her life at Cliffsbane.” As your breath finally begins to even out, you look to the side and chance a brow at Syrena’s words. 

“She was the last cadet you pulled out of the corridor you were in and watched you take on the venin. I thought between that and Riorson’s recent actions, she could have some compassion or at least understanding; but I see my darling sisterstill has some things to work on.” Syrena finishes as you finally have your breathing back under control.

“It’s not your fault.” You say as your breath catches again in your throat. “I know from experience how hard it can be to let somethings go.”

Syrena scoffs. “Empathy is not a quality my sister excels at, but it seems you have more than enough for the both of you. I can see why Riorson has lost any semblance of niceties now that you aren’t around.”

“I’m not sure that Xaden has a single nice bone in his body, that’s not exactly his strong suit.” You retort letting the sarcasm lace every word.

“Either way, how about you follow me, and we get you fitted for this monstrosity that I know my uncle is going to make you wear.” Syrena says while motioning you to follow her.

You try to keep your facial expressions neutral as the seamstresses begin their work, but it’s impossible. Every single emotion known to man must pass across your face because you watch as Syrena must hide her sniggers behind her hands at your antics.

“Clearly this isn’t something you’re used to.” Syrena muses as you stare down at the seamstress that is measuring from your waist to the floor.

“I would think that is obvious.” You retort as you move your arms as to not knock into one of the seamstresses scurrying around you.

“Well, you’ll get used to it.” That comment causes you to snap your gaze to the secondary heir to the Poromish throne. 

“I beg to differ. Besides, I don’t see why someone that’s fighting in a war will need a fancy gown again.” As the seamstresses finally step away from you, a deep calming breath and drop your arms as you’ve been wanting to do for the last half hour.

“You do know that Riorson is the rightful Duke of Aretia, correct?” Syrena continues as if you haven’t spoken. “When all is said and done, I’m sure he’ll regain the title, if not more. You’ll most likely be expected to dress the part next to him.”

Tripping over your feet, you barely catch yourself before you hit the ground. “What the fuck are you talking about Syrena?” You demand as your emotions begin to rise, clogging your throat with both fear and hope.

“I’m sure you’ll see.” Her cryptic response does nothing to quell the nauseous feeling that has now settled in your stomach. 

About a week later, you find yourself walking back to your room in the palace at Cordyn after your training session for the day. As you shuffle in, the armoire that houses your clothes that must be worn to formal events sits open. Walking towards the door, your eyes immediately fly wide.

Hanging in the open door is an emerald dress that is something you thought you’d only see in your dreams. The gown is made of layers of gauzy fabric with jewels encrusted over the entire bodice with twirling vines of ivy. You stare at the skirt, and you can’t help but wonder if the sheer layers will cover any part of your body. Vines run up and down the bodice with a few hanging into the layers of the skirt and fabric drapes from the bodice into a full skirt. As your eyes continue to trace the dress, you notice the sleeves that will hang off your shoulders and will at least cover some of the black veins that still spider on your arm.

Every ounce of the dress looks as if it is fit for a queen, not a mere soldier barely scrimping by. 

“I believe you’ll look absolutely stunning in that my dear.” The oily rasp of the voice behind you causes you to step back. You turn and stare back into the eyes of Viscount Tecarus.

“If my intel is correct, I believe we will be having a few guests join us this evening.” Tecarus continues coming to step in front of you. “And I’ve come here to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“I see.” You say but your trepidation is clear, even to your own ears. “And what exactly is that?”

“You will be escorted to dinner with Drake; however, you will not make your appearance known until after everyone has joined. There will be a guard to inform Drake of when to enter. You will keep to your chamber between now and then.” There is no denying the calculation that the Viscount has done.

“Once there, you will get the rest of your instructions. I’m unsure of how much Riorson knows about your whereabouts exactly, but from what we’ve pieced together he knows you’re in Poromiel. However, he has made no indication that he knows you’re here.”

“I’m not sure what exactly you think I can do for you with him. As you remember, I was left behind in Resson and from what I can tell, that was that. No one has tried to find me.” You try to explain and keep your voice level. 

As the conversation continues, it takes everything for you not to bolt from the fortress and not look back. Coming face to face with Xaden again is the last thing you want to do. 

“Yes, that may be what you think, but my dear, there are many things you don’t know.” With that, the Viscount walks out of your room but not before giving you a smile that tells you this evening isn’t going to be any fun. 

A few hours later, two ladies’ maids have come to take care of your hair, makeup, and dress you for the evening. Standing fully dressed and looking in the mirror, you are shocked at the reflection that stares back at you. 

The maids have curled your hair and left it half up and down, braids are intricately woven in and out at the top with golden chains woven throughout. Your eyes pop after having been lined with charcoal and the suppleness of your lips are highlighted the dark red of a ripe raspberry. Though the one thing that you can’t stop staring at is the dress that you now don. The emerald color complements your skin immaculately and falls to accentuate every curve of your body.  You’ve never seen yourself look so beautiful, regal even. 

“What my uncle lacks in battle strategy, he certainly makes up for in style.” Drake’s voice drips like honey behind you and you turn quirking your eyebrow. “You look absolutely beautiful, ever the regal queen.”

Even with the compliment, you give him a deadpanned look. “I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to survive this night alive.” He quips, chuckling slightly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your irritation barely contained.

“Riorson might just have my head for escorting you.” Drake continues with his jibes. “Especially when everyone’s eyes will be on you.”

“Ha. Ha.” You let the sarcasm drip from your lips like molasses. 

“Seriously though, I’ve already seen the riders that are joining us, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so tightly wound.”

“Him who?” The look Drake gives you makes it obvious that he knows you’re being ridiculous. Letting out a long-suffering sigh, you let yourself slouch feeling defeated even though your night hasn’t even begun.

Looking you over, Drake goes to the dressing table in your room and picks up the necklace that Ceridwen had gifted you. “I need you to remember to wear this whenever you’re around Catriona from now on, do you understand?” The serious look in his eyes causes you not to question his decree and just nod your head in confirmation.

A knock on your door breaks the silence and your heart begins to speed. Breathing has turned into a chore, and you’ve begun pacing back and forth, eyes trained down at the floor and shaking your hands as if trying to dispel the feelings you’re feeling. 

“Hey.” The sternness of the voice the only thing breaking through your reeling thoughts. 

“I know this is going to be a long evening, but I need you to breathe.” Drake soothes taking your hand in his and guiding you to slow your breathing. “Never forget that you don’t have to leave, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If anything, you should go down there with your head held high and show Riorson the strong and beautiful woman he let disappear.”

It’s all you can do to focus on your breathing and shake your head. Drake begins to walk towards the door and holds out his arm for you to take. Letting yourself move forward slowly and continuing to take deep breaths, you try to remind yourself that whatever happens this evening doesn’t matter. Soon enough Xaden will be on his way home and you’ll be free to throw yourself into the war like you’ve been wanting to, preferably as far away from him as possible. 

Letting your mind wander, you take in the scenery of the palace as you walk. Looking to your left, you watch the shimmering coastline that seems to sparkle with the night sky, though you can feel the heaviness that is settling in the air around you forecasting the coming rain. Watching the waves crash calms your racing thoughts as you continue to walk forward on Drake’s arm.

Far too soon, you stare at a familiar set of doors and your heart has now leapt into your throat. Before the guards open the doors, Drake turns to look at you, his expression serious.

“Before we go in there, I just want to say I’m sorry for whatever happens tonight. It’s important to me that you know I had no part in whatever plan my uncle intends to carry out tonight and I tried my damnedest to keep you as far away from this as possible.” The concern in his eyes shines as he finishes talking. You have no idea what to reply, so you just give his arm a squeeze back in acknowledgement before the doors are opening. 

Turning to face forward, you take a deep, shaking breath as Drake continues to guide you forward and down the stairs. Your free hand is now balled into a fist so tight, you’re unsure if you are drawing blood or not. Descending, you can’t help but feel the weight of the stares of all the people gathered at the palace. Searching left and right, you try your hardest not to encounter the onyx eyes that you haven’t seen in months, the anxiety eating at your very being. 

Drake’s warm hand falls over yours and squeezes bringing your gaze back to his, the gesture grounds you as you continue to walk forward. The small comforting smile that he offers you helping to bring your breathing back under control and alleviate a tinge of the anxiety.

A voice breaks your gaze from Drake’s as you hear the words uttered from further in front of you. “Ah, here’s the other guest that we’ve been waiting on.”

Whirling your head towards the sound of Tecarus’ voice, the breath completely leaves your lungs. In front of you is the last person you ever wanted to see again, but you can’t tear your eyes away. 

Standing before you in a tunic tailored to every line of his body is Xaden Riorson. His hair perfectly windswept and strong features on display for all to see. Though the thing you notice most is the taught lines of his body and the way his eyes look sunken and more tired than you’ve ever seen them as he stands in front of you. The rest of the room seems to fall away as you stare back at each other, him in disbelief and you in resignation.

A fire begins burning in your chest, one you didn’t expect. Anger that you hadn’t realized you were holding onto starts to blaze as you watch Xaden. Your nostrils flare in irritation as your eyes finally move to the woman standing next to him. 

Sorrengail. 

The sneer on your lips comes unbidden, though you don’t let your eyes linger on her before looking to the two others standing next to her. Gaze going between the three, the realization hits you as you notice the similarities in their features, her siblings.

Closing your eyes and taking a calming breath, you open your eyes and bring them to Tecarus, ignoring the way Xaden fidgets as if he is barely keeping himself in place. 

“I believe now is the time to discuss the business we have here.” The male Sorrengail sibling says, obviously trying to break the tension.

You keep your eyes trained on Tecarus, but it’s impossible not to notice the way that Violet tries to get Xaden to step back, as you notice he can’t stop himself from taking steps forward. You roll your eyes at the gesture, of course she would be the one to control him.

A chill crawling up your leg causes you to shiver and look down. Unsurprisingly, shadows swirl at your feet, and you know if you parted your skirt, you would find them shifting around your legs. 

Getting pulled back slightly causes you to look down and realize the tight grip that you had on Drake’s arm as he still held your arm in his. You give him an apologetic look, but it doesn’t last when a black tendril of shadow tugs at your arm as if to pull it from Drake’s grip. 

Pivoting, you send a sharp look to Xaden, a silent command to drop his shadows. However, he doesn’t see it as he is only glaring at your hand that is still holding Drake’s arm and then back at the man himself.

“Now that all our guests have arrived, Riorson, we can continue our discussions for the luminary.” Tecarus says as if he is doing something magnanimous, causing your eyes to roll. 

Violet goes to step up and begins to raise her hands to wield, but she is quickly cut off. “No, no, my dear. I want you to wield from the beautiful arena below. In fact, I have a few things to go through before we start.”

“You,” Tecarus says while pointing to Violet. “Will head down to the arena floor and I have a target I want you to hit with your lightning. If you’re interested in bringing anyone with you, you may - except him.”

Xaden goes to step forward, but for some reason you don’t understand, he seems torn. “Don’t worry Riorson, you won’t need to move from where you are. In fact, things will deteriorate if you do.”

Your brows furrow, but soon enough you have stopped paying attention when you’re grabbed by two guards. As your head swivels left and right trying to understand, you see the murderous look that is plastered on Xaden’s face and the undeniable anger on Drake’s.

“Tsk. Tsk. Don’t move any further if you want that luminary Riorson.” Xaden’s footsteps immediately falter, but his eyes turn to anguish. 

“Fuck the luminary.” Xaden growls as he goes to take another step towards you, but he stops in his tracks when you give him a look telling him ‘No’.

“You, dear Xaden, have one task.” Tecarus looks to you, a disturbing gleam in his eye. “You cannot move from this balcony. If you dare take one step towards the arena, our dearest Y/N will fall to the arena floor.”

As Tecarus finishes, the guards, that grabbed you, push you into a golden cage. You rattle the door you were thrown in, even though you saw it locked behind you. You can’t hide the betrayal on your face and at this point you’re unsure if there is anyone you can trust. 

“That’s what you wanted. To dress me up like a beautiful bird that lives her life in a gilded cage. To dangle me for what? To prove that I don’t matter to any of them? That I don’t matter to him?” The rage building in your heart at the betrayal you’re feeling, an overwhelming monster threatening to tear the entire palace down. 

“And what can I assume you will do if I don’t follow your instructions?” Xaden growls out, the blazing hot fury causing his voice to drop low. 

“You see that’s where the fun begins.” The giddy elation in Tecarus’s voice causes your glare at the disgusting man to intensify. “We get to see who is really more important to you and you get to see what happens when you don’t follow my commands.”

You look down at the arena floor where Violet now stands with her siblings. “Now remember, the minute you make a move towards the arena, the cage opens, and you are responsible for any consequences.” The danger dripping from Tecarus lets you know that he has no intention of letting Xaden get through this unscathed and is taking immense amounts of pleasure from his plan.

Taking time to look at the cage you find yourself in, you notice the latch that you are sitting on and trace the chain that falls from the bottom to a guard standing close to you. A jerk of the cage has you jostling from side to side as the cage begins to move. 

“This is ridiculous uncle. Bring her down right now.” Drake’s voice breaks from the din of whispers that have only gotten louder since your placement in the gilded cage. 

Eyes darting from side to side, you realize that you are now not only caged, but dangling above an arena that is soon going to be covered in lightning. 

“Oh Amari.” The words woosh from your lungs as the certainty of your imminent demise begins to settle in your bones.  

The certainty solidifies as you watch guards bring a chest into the middle of the arena. Watching wearily, your eyes bulge when you watch a venin tumble from the chest. Your gaze swings back to the balcony and watch a satisfied smirk plaster on Tecarus’s face. A movement to the left has you meeting Drake’s gaze, he makes a motion towards the bodice of your dress, and you look down. Unsure exactly how or when, you find yourself in possession of one of the alloyed daggers that you’ve killed the previous venin with. It’s then you know what you must do.

In lieu of Xaden losing his life because of Violet’s death, you make the decision that you’ve been dreading. Standing in the cage and picking up your foot, you drive it down as hard as possible, the heel cracking through the latch on the bottom. 

“Y/N!” A male voice roars your name, but you don’t look to see who it is.

The sensation of falling hits you immediately, but using everything you’d learned at Basgiath, you soften your blow to the ground just the tiniest bit in order to keep from breaking anything. You roll to your feet, and curse the ridiculous dress that you find yourself tangled in. 

Although you know your exit and landing wasn’t that quiet, the venin hasn’t seemed to notice your presence. Your eyes catch Violet’s as you begin to move forward, silently conveying your command for her to keep him talking. Unsheathing the dagger that was held at your ribs, you slowly make your way towards the creature trying to keep your steps measured and slow.

The venin begins to crouch to the ground, and you know you don’t have much time.

“Y/N! NO!” The same male voice repeats, though now there is a hint of absolute desperation and panic.

Running as swiftly as you can in the outrageous skirt of the dress, you bring the dagger up in preparation to strike. Right before you make your move, the venin turns his hand jutting out and grabbing you by the neck his read eyes bulging. 

“Quite the prizes I’ve been led to. The sage will reward me handsomely for bringing both the lightning wielder and the pained one.” He hisses, spittle hitting your face. For a monstrous creature that has been denied the ability to channel for so long, it strikes you how powerful he is still, even in a weakened state. 

“I may be full of pain, but I’ll never meet your master.” You hiss breathlessly as you bring the dagger to slash the venin’s arm. Hissing in pain, the venin drops you to the ground and you cough trying to get breath back into your body.

Taking one deep drag of air, you jolt up and slam the blade of the alloyed dagger into the venin’s chest. A triumphant smile crosses your mouth, but it is short lived when you see the venin raise a dagger that you were unaware he possessed. You take two steps back before the venin slashes the blade across your chest.

“Y/N!” Violet screams, as the awaiting storm finally breaks and soaks everything. As you both drop to the ground, the bright red of the venin’s eyes turns to a dull ruby and his skin begins to grey. Landing fully on the ground, the breath is zipped from your lungs and your hand instinctively goes up to cover the slash across your chest. 

The warm and viscous blood flowing from the wound coats all your fingers as you bring them up to your face to see, the metallic smell wafting to you through the raindrops. 

“Brennan, mend her!” Violet’s voice seems further away than it was before. 

Closing your eyes, you let yourself focus on the feeling of the rain falling down your face instead of focusing on the pain of your injury. Soon enough you drift off, a sense of contentment washing over you. You may not have saved yourself, but you saved those who can better save the continent.

“Y/N, please open your eyes. Please.” A familiar male voice says in a desperate, coaxing tone, though you can’t bring yourself to obey the command. You feel a large, calloused hand stroke your cheek and then card through your hair, finally coming down to lace with your fingers.

“She’ll be fine Xaden. Brennan mended her. You couldn’t ask for her to have been seen to sooner than that.” A female voice tries to coax who you’ve realized is now Xaden.

“You don’t know that.” You can hear the frustration in his tone back at the female. “She almost killed herself trying to save you.”

Reality slams back and you now know that you won’t be opening your eyes for the two people who have haunted you for months. The last thing you need to see is the man you love with the woman that caused you to be forgotten. 

“We need to go anyway. Tecarus is expecting all of us for negotiations.” Violet tries to reason with him.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Each word drips out of his mouth with vicious certainty. A knock on a door seems to halt their conversation.

“Your presence is required for our negotiations I’m afraid.” Your emotions settle as you take note of Drake’s voice breaking the conversation.

“You can tell your fucking uncle he should be glad I didn’t send him to meet Malek today for the stunts he pulled, and I’ll come when Y/N is awake.” Xaden replies in a menacing growl, his fingers tightening on yours as if afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Look Riorson, you may not believe me, but I agree with you. Everything that happened tonight is despicable.” Drake begins catching you off guard. “But you shouldn’t spit in the direction of Y/N’s sacrifice that she made tonight by not participating in negotiations.”

“If it would be any consolation, I can stay with her until negotiations are done. If for some reason she wakes between now and then, I’ll have someone fetch you immediately. However, in hopes to move things along, we all need this discussion about the luminary to be decided upon.” Drake explains with as much diplomacy as possible.

Silence greets your ears for a few minutes before anyone speaks. 

Drake must’ve given Xaden the confirmation he wanted as a minute later you feel the hand wrapped around yours squeeze tightly and a cool feeling whisps around your wrist, wrapping in tightly.

“Fine. But I’m not leaving her completely. You’ll have to deal with a few shadows if you want me to participate in this bullshit.” Xaden says plainly, though his tone begins to darken at the end. “And you better keep your damn hands to your fucking self Cordella.”

You expect to hear the sound of retreating footsteps, but instead the bed dips and you feel warm breath ghost across your face.

“Y/N, Love, I need you to wake up for me. I promise you I’m not leaving this damned place without you awake and Malek will take me before I fly out of Cordyn without you. Please, my Blaze. Please wake up.” Xaden whispers in your ear before you feel him leave a lingering kiss on your temple. 

The bed shifts again and you hold your breath until you hear the door click shut.

“You aren’t very subtle you know. I can tell you’re awake.” The humor in Drake’s voice is dry. 

Your eyes flutter open and look directly at him. The eye roll and slight shake of your head doesn’t stop the way your mouth ticks up at the corner. 

“What can I say? I was just waiting to have you all to myself.” You tease but the smile doesn’t last as you wince in pain trying to sit yourself up. 

Looking down to the shadow at your wrist, you lift it up with a pointed look. “Did you really need to allow this?”

Drake’s laugh is cynical. “Allow? You may have heard the words Riorson just said but you haven’t been awake for the last 3 hours. If you’d seen what I have, you wouldn’t be pushing too many of his buttons.”

“I highly doubt he enjoyed watching his dear Violet’s life endangered, but I took care of it.” The flat tone of your voice giving away the hurt. 

Swinging your feet to the edge of the bed, you look down to see someone has changed you into a silk sleeping gown. Your hand then goes up as your eyes catch on the new raw scar that slashes across the left side of your chest. Trying to comprehend, you just can’t understand how you’ve evaded Malek’s grip once again. 

“Violet?” Drake chimes in as he walks closer to your side. “Is your whole existence now dependent on avoiding the fact that the man that just left this room is irrevocably in love with you?”

“Don’t.” Your voice drops to a deadly whisper. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to judge what I think. You haven’t been around for the last year and a half, or do you not remember that I fucking ran away from that man and my dragon.”

Your voice is gaining in its fire, and you can feel your body begin heating with the anger coursing through every nerve. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Drake hesitantly begins sounding suitably chastised. “I understand that with whatever happened between the two of you, he has a lot to explain and atone for, but did you not see how sunken in his eyes are?”

You drop your head down and let your anger fester. There is no way you’re going to let anyone make you feel bad for leaving, even though there was no mistaking the sallow color to Xaden’s eyes and deep purple smudges below them. 

“Will you at least let me tell you what happened on the balcony? At least let me give you some information before he inevitably comes back.” You give a curt nod, but only because you know that there isn’t any way you can completely evade Xaden, not now. 

“Besides, someone needs to chide you for being as reckless as you were.” Your head jerks up and the look Drake gives you shows he was vastly unimpressed with your performance. “Did you really need to try and kill both me and your shadow wielding, hot head by dropping yourself from that cage?”

You give him a dead-panned look. “What’s the difference? Your uncle dearest wanted to play games, so I bent the rules.”

With a roll of his eyes, Drake goes on to relay the chaos that you were completely unaware of, obviously too engrossed in dispatching a venin and then almost meeting Malek for the second time in just a few weeks.

 The male voice you heard shouting your name was apparently Xaden, both he and Drake, flew to the arenas edge once you started falling. Though Xaden’s focus didn’t stay long on the battle once you killed the venin and were mended, apparently turning to let his wrath at the situation out on the Viscount.

Drake imparts the threats Xaden carried out, wrapping his shadows around Tecarus’s neck and slowly constricting, and the bedlam that followed. He confirms you were mended by Brennan, as Violet had already stated, and then Brennan had carried you up the steps of the arena. 

Somehow Violet had broken through the spell of anger that Xaden was in, and he had immediately turned towards the Sorrengails. Seeing your limp form in Brennan’s arms, Drake confirmed he had taken you from him and stalked off not bothering to say anything to anyone.

“I’m unsure if I’ve ever seen the burning hatred in someone’s eyes shine as brightly as Riorson’s did tonight. I’m unsure of exactly what control he used, but if he had any less, he may have taken out the entirety of the line of succession of Poromiel.” Your head turns cocking an eyebrow at Drake’s words. 

“How exactly did I end up here? And where exactly is here? This isn’t the room I normally stay in.” You ask as you finally look around the room. 

“No, this isn’t your room. This is Riorson’s room from when he used to make regular visits to Cordyn.” Drake confirms.

“You mean when he was engaged to your cousin?” You snipe back, the bitter taste in your mouth causing you to scowl.

“Not engaged. Betrothed. Not something I chose.” Xaden’s voice causes you to jump and your head to turn swiftly towards the door that has just opened. 

The minute his eyes meet yours, the way they soften and swirl with a plethora of emotions, has your heart breaking in your chest. Your head drops down and you stand, immediately trying to leave the room. 

“No.” The word leaves his mouth breathlessly and he’s crossing the room quickly stopping you from going anywhere. “Please Blaze – please stay.”

Of all the ways you’ve heard Xaden talk, in the years knowing and loving him, you had never heard his voice so broken. 

“Why?” The word passes your lips before you can stop it, but now that it has you know there is no way to take it back. 

Pulling back from Xaden’s grip, you look up into the eyes you had been avoiding. A sigh leaves your mouth, though you can feel your chest tighten, as you see the anguish and sorrow clearly on his face. The man in front of you has never looked so lost, broken, and utterly defeated.

“Do you know how long I was waiting for you to sound so desperate for me in the last year?  To not feel like you had forgotten about my existence? Did you even realize the way you left me behind?” The questions rush from your lips in a torrent, and you have to bite down on your lips to avoid more from spilling.

Have you broken Xaden Riorson?

Is the only thought you manage to have as you watch the tears slip down his cheeks.

Your head is spinning with the emotion that is ripping from the man in front of you. As much as your brain holds onto the anger that had settled in you, your heart is shattering watching him crumble before your eyes. Your hand comes to your chest as your throat begins to close trying to hold back your own tears. 

Your vision begins to swim with tears as suddenly Xaden moves. He crashes to his knees as he grabs you by the waist crushing you to him so tightly you know there will be bruises there tomorrow, though you don’t focus on that when you hear the sob tear from his throat.

 Standing there frozen in place, your emotions war within you on whether to push him away or try to comfort him. In the end your heart wins out and you rake your hand through his hair. The gesture causes his breath to catch in his throat and his hold on you to tighten even further. 

Bringing your hand down and placing your fingers under his chin, you tilt his head up to look him in the eyes. As he does, you can’t help but trace the tears still falling from his eyes wiping them as they continue to dampen his cheeks.

“Xaden.” Your voice comes out as a calming whisper. “You need to breathe for me, alright?”

He gives a short nod as he tries to calm his breathing while still being plastered to you. Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his cheeks, keeping a steady rhythm to help soothe him. 

As his breathing begins to level, he takes both of your hands in his and kisses your palms slowly rising to his feet. 

Not letting go of your hands, he pulls you to the bed and sits you down next to him. You try to pull your hands away, acutely aware that Violet could walk in at any second, but he tightens his grip further. 

“Y- you d-don’t know h-how long I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again.” The confession comes out in a stuttered whisper as Xaden continues to pull your hands forward trying to tug you closer and calm his emotions. 

You can’t help the incredulous look you give him. After everything that had happened over the last year, you never believed that Xaden would even care about seeing you again.

“Forgive the brashness Xaden, but I have a hard time believing that with everything that happened at the end of our relationsh-.” As you finish, Xaden doesn’t try to hide the way his breath hitches as you draw a line in the sand of your relationship, but he quickly cuts you off. 

“Don’t.” The word comes out with such force you immediately rear back a bit. “That wasn’t the end. This isn’t either.” He says firmly brooking no argument. 

As he finishes, your head cocks to the side and the look you give him is filled with resignation. “I don’t think you’re allowed to make that call alone. Besides, I’m sure Violet wouldn’t want to hear that.”

At the mention of the silver-haired girl, Xaden picks up his hand and grabs your face with deliberate force, directing you too look candidly into his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what Violet wants. My relationship is none of her fucking business.”

You scoff and try to pull your face away. “I believe it is her business if she’s part of that relationship.”

A frustrated growl slips from his lips as he gets a better grasp on your face. “I’m. Not. With. Violet.” Each word is punctuated through grit teeth.

“More fool me then. Left behind for someone you aren’t even with.” You can feel yourself getting nasty, the attitude and anger lying dormant rising to the surface.

“I’m sorry.” Between the words and the way Xaden is looking at you, it’s as if a cold bucket of water has been poured on you and doused the fire that had begun to race through your veins.

“Excuse me?” You ask incredulously, furrowing your brows because you’ve never heard Xaden say those words.

Xaden takes a deep breath, and confusion becomes shock as he grabs you and pulls you on his lap, his forehead resting on the side of your head as his hands wrap tightly around your waist. “I’m. so. fucking. sorry.” The words leave his mouth punctuated slowly as if to convey their importance. 

He raises his head, and you turn to look him in the eyes. “There aren’t enough words in this world for me to tell you how fucking sorry I am. I’ll apologize to you every damn day for the rest of our lives, but I need you with me.”

After being hurt so thoroughly by this man, you find yourself unable to stop throwing words in his face. “I’m certain that the last year has proven quite the opposite.”

Your words clearly strike a nerve when he flinches, though the movement doesn’t last long. 

“I deserve every ounce of your ire. All the pain you’ve felt tenfold.” He says simply. “And I will gladly accept every ounce of venom you can toss my way. Use daggers if you want to. Make me bleed. But please, come with me.”

“I can’t.” The words are out of your mouth in an instant. There is no way you’re just going to fold to the man in front of you. “Pretty words aren’t going to fix this.”

The look of anguish on Xaden’s face makes your gut twist and your chest feel too tight. 

“They aren’t just pretty words.” The pleading and anguish in his voice is on full display. 

“Your actions for the last year spoke louder than all the words you’ve ever told me. No matter how much I want to believe them.” An emotion flashes in Xaden’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“Gods Xaden, we’re even having this discussion in a place that you’d been aiding for years, but did I know anything about it. No!” Your voice begins to rise as you gesture around the room. “You’ve been aiding Poromiel, been betrothed to an heir to the throne, and when things blew up in Resson did you even notice my reaction? Or was calming the lightning wielder down just that more important?”

“You think I don’t know how much I’ve fucked up? I’ll spend from now until I meet Malek showing you that needing you isn’t just pretty words. That all the things you didn’t know were not because I didn’t want to tell you, but because I wanted to keep you protected.” The words become harsh as Xaden’s conviction begins to solidify. “You are as vital to me as the fucking air that I breathe, and I haven’t taken a full breath since I realized you were gone. I know I fucked up for the last year. Hell, probably even longer than that, but nothing in this world is more vital to me than you.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between Xaden’s eyes looking for lies, but it hits you suddenly he looked at you the same way for years not giving away any of his secrets.

“I want to believe you. Really, I do.” You start. “But this time you’re going to have to show me, before we are anything again – if we even can be.”

“I’ll do anything you want me to do, but you have to come with me back to Aretia. I want to take you home. To my home and I want to make it yours.” Xaden has slowly walked back towards you leaving little space in between, the scent that you always associated with comfort, mint, leather and the essence of him assaults your nostrils and it takes everything you have to not bury your face in his chest.

“I’ll give you this.” You begin taking a few steps back out of his orbit. “You’ll have the opportunity to show me that what you’re saying is the truth, but I’m not coming with you to Aretia.”

His arm shoots out trying to drag you back to him, but you put up a hand to stop him. “No. If you want any chance at all, you’ll respect my decision.” 

Turning around one last time before exiting his room you look up at the man that brings you both comfort and tears. 

“I’ll always love you, Xaden.” Your voice is quiet as you leave him with parting words, sadness coloring the lines of your face. “But this time you’re going to have to be the one fighting, because I refuse to be forgotten again.”

With that, you let the door fall closed behind you but not before you see the absolute look of desperation on Xaden’s face. Walking away a few paces, you can’t help but overhear the shout of agony from the room you just left as you let the tears flow down your cheeks.

“Come on.” A gentle voice says as you continue down the corridor. Your head turns to the voice as a blanket is thrown over your shoulders and the now familiar warmth of Drake settles over your shoulders. “Let’s get you back to your room for some rest.”

Days later after the delegation from Aretia has left, you are walking in the garden trying to clear your mind from the reeling it’s been doing since Xaden stepped back into your life. As you walk, you let your hand trace over the beautiful roses that line the path, taking in the overabundance of colors that strike against the backdrop of the white palace. 

You close your eyes trying to absorb the smell of the roses and calm your racing mind, but the peace doesn’t last long. A shriek comes from inside the palace causing your head to jerk in the direction and your eyes fly wide. 

Coming in at a rate too fast to seem friendly is a dragon on a collision course with the palace. On your left and right you watch as gryphons launch in the air. You stare with wide eyes, you breath stuck in your throat, as the gryphons descend towards the incoming threat. 

Soon enough though the gryphons turn and come towards the palace as well in the formation of an escort. Your brow furrows as you wonder who exactly has returned to Cordyn so soon. 

‘No one, Loyal One. I’m here for you.’ A crisp female voice races through your mind. 

Your eyes flare as you look towards the incoming dragon, familiarity hitting you like a stone as you watch the coppery sheen of your brown swordtail coming closer and closer.

‘Dhìoch. H-how?’ You don’t need to finish the sentence of how she knew you were here.

‘Sgaeyl. You didn’t think the Brooding One was going to let you be alone with the enemy, did you?’ You mentally curse Xaden and his inability to leave well-enough alone.

‘There’s plenty he doesn’t know.’ You snark, although your mind begins to race as you realize your dragon just might burn you to the ground for your actions.

‘I see that, Loyal One. You have been busy these past months, even without any powers. I knew I was right in my choice, although many have questioned me since your abrupt departure.’ There’s no mistaking the anger in Dhìoch’s eyes as she lands in the garden, talons digging up the gently manicured bushes you were just admiring.

‘I’m sorry Dhìoch, but I just couldn’t stand it any longer. I figured you just severed our bond and found a more worthy rider.’ Even your mental voice becomes small, your own insecurities shining through.

‘You do not apologize.’ Dhìoch says surprising you. ‘Although you were reckless and abrupt, I understand why you did what you did.’

‘However, if you ever think you can leave me again, I will burn you and we will burn together.’ There’s no evading the scathing look from the beautiful, bronzed creature in front of you and there is no way you are going to challenge her threat.

‘I understand Dhìoch and I won’t allow myself to become that forgotten girl again.’ You confirm and Dhìoch sends an acknowledging hum through the bond.

With Dhìoch back at your side, you spend days working on repairing your shields and practicing your signet. It doesn’t take long as everything moves through you like a stream that had been denied water, the feeling of being whole again finding its way to you.

Syrena and Drake spend time training with you when they are in Cordyn and thankfully let you know whenever there will be a new drop of daggers. Between trying to avoid Catriona before she left for Aretia and then trying to avoid Xaden, you find yourself always playing a game of hide and seek. 

Unfortunately, when you are playing against a shadow wielder, you luck is more often than not, terrible.

“Blaze.” Your eyes immediately roll as you continue walking back to the training fields itching to get away from him. But the man of shadows will have none of it. A cool whisp wraps around your wrist and tugs causing your steps to tumble slightly backwards and into the chest of the man basically running you down. 

“Will you stop calling me that.” Your voice rasps in irritation at the man now holding you by your waist against his chest.

Before you can so much as turn, he buries his face in the side of your neck and his arms slither all the way around your frame before you hear a breathy response. “No.”

“Why?” You ask tersely as you try to pry yourself free.

“Because there is no alternative I will accept, then you burning with me. You’ve always been an all-consuming flame, whether passion or hatred and I’ll never let your blazing glory go.” Xaden says, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks.

Huffing, you are finally able to tear yourself from his grip. “Is there something you needed? Or are you just here to torment me?”

You don’t miss the way he flinches at your scathing tone, but you’re in no mood. 

“I’m making another drop.” He says simply.

“Aren’t there other people in this group of yours that could do such a menial task?” You ask as your hand gestures about showing your aggravation.

“Of course there is. This man just can’t help himself from being subjected to your company.” Drake interjects as he walks next to the both of you earning a glare from Xaden and an eye roll from you.

“Well let me not subject you to anything, I was just on my way out.” 

“Wait.” Xaden stops you with a hand wrapped around your wrist.

“What? Sgaeyl didn’t give you your report from Dhìoch?” His eyes flaring the only indication that he knows what you mean.

“Exactly. Don’t think I don’t know why my dragon suddenly knew where I was.” You say pointedly. “I’m going on patrol, Drake, I’ll be back later.”

“I’ll come with you.” Xaden says walking to your side.

You whir on him and a sneer leaves your lips. “You, sir, are not enrolled in service to the Poromish, so I don’t think you will.”

“No, I’m not, but I wasn’t asking your permission either.” Xaden steps into your space and you immediately let go a growl and stomp away in the direction of your dragon.

As you make it to the flight field of the palace you can’t stop yourself as you turn. 

“What are you trying to accomplish?” You challenge.

Xaden huffs his own frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’m trying to prove to you that you are my fucking world. But for some reason, you won’t give me the time of day.”

A humorless laugh leaves your lips. “I won’t give you the time of day. That’s rich coming from you.”

Xaden finally realizes exactly what he said and immediately turns sheepish. You just roll your eyes at the brooding idiot in front of you.

“Let’s go if you’re coming.” The exasperation in your voice is high as you acquiesce to Xaden. His eyes immediately light up and he pulls you to him placing a lingering kiss to your hair. A breathless ‘thank you’ leave his lips before he turns and seamlessly mounts Sgaeyl. 

You shake your head at the last few minutes and immediately mount Dhìoch for your patrol.

This process now seems to repeat every time Xaden makes a weapons drop to Cordyn. Though you get a reprieve for a week at a time when he is clearly stationed at an outpost. 

Walking into a strategy meeting, your brows furrow as you look at the serious looks on the faces of Syrena and Drake. Looking between the two, you know whatever they are discussing isn’t going to be good news.

“Some intel we have seems to point to them heading to Pavis for some reason.” Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of the town you spent weeks in after Resson.

“We are spread thin though, we can only spare one or two fliers to station there.” Drake says not taking his eyes off the map.

“Send me.” There’s no hesitation in your voice as all three heads turn your way. “I’ll be reinforcements. Besides, the only thing going on here seems to be wyvern patrols.”

“Are you sure you’re up for that? We won’t have much back up for you.” Drake questions as he studies you.

“I’m sure. I owe it to the people of the town that took me in without question.” The finality of your voice must convey your seriousness.

“Alright. Though you may need to go alone at first before we can split a squad.” Syrena says as if that would change your mind.

“That’s not a problem. I’ll go start packing.” Immediately rising, you walk briskly towards the bedroom that you’ve called home the last two months.

“Are you trying to avoid a certain shadow wielder’s drop tomorrow?” Drake says as he leans in the door frame. A huff leaves you as you shake your head at his question. 

“No, actually. This has nothing to do with him. I owe Red and Ceridwen more than they’ll ever realize.” You stop packing to look back at Drake. The thought of seeing the people who became surrogate parents spurring your rush. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure they are safe.”

Drake gives you a knowing smile while pushing off the door. “I know you’ll take care of them the best way you can.”

As he turns, he throws over his shoulder, “though I don’t know how we’ll survive when your incendiary loverboy finds out you aren’t here.”

The comment causes you to burst out in a fit of laughter before replying. “Oh, I have faith that you can figure it out.”

Drake waves you off as he continues down the hallway and you go back to packing.

A few hours later you find yourself taking a deep breath and enjoying the freedom of flying, while trying to stop from thinking about what you may be walking into. As Dhìoch begins her descent, you cannot help the beaming smile that lights your face seeing the tavern in the distance.

‘Do you think you’d be willing to meet the people who took me in?’ Hesitently asking Dhìoch down the bond.

‘I’d be willing to show my appreciation to the people who looked after you.’ Dhìoch hums in response and your smile grows a little wider.

Dhìoch comes to a stop not far from the front of the inn and you dismount quickly hoping to alert the owners inside without drawing too much ire from the rest of the residents. As you step into the tavern, the smell of roasting meats and stale alcohol hit your nostrils and your nose scrunches in memory.

Noting the lack of either of the people you are looking for, you knock on the bar and call out in a harsh voice. “Can’t anyone get some service around here.”

The heavy thump of a cup hitting a table makes you smirk as you watch Red come from the back, a look of irritation on his face. Though the look doesn’t last long as the minute he recognizes you he smiles widely almost as if welcoming hope his daughter. The warmth that settles in your chest has you smiling right back to him. 

“Ceridwen.” He calls to the kitchen. “Come and see what the gryphon dragged in.”

“What are you talking ab-“Ceridwen’s words are cut off as she sees you standing at the bar. “Oh, my dear, I’m so happy to see you.”

It takes less than ten seconds to be swept up into Ceridwen’s hug as you hear Red’s warm laugh behind you. You haven’t smiled so much in the last few months, let alone the last year. 

Your heart continues to warm hours later as you sit at a table in the tavern deep in conversation with the two.

“If I would’ve known that introducing you to Drake would put you in so much danger, I would’ve contacted someone else.” Red grumbles next to you. 

“You can’t blame it all on Drake, I did ask and require him to take me.” Your reassurance does nothing to quell Red’s thoughts on this issue if his huff is anything to go by.

“So how long will you be here?” Ceridwen asks though you can see the worry in her eyes.

“Hopefully not long, and if we are lucky, the intel that was given is false.” You say as you smile, but this time it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Either way,” Red says, clapping you on his back as he begins to walk towards his chambers. “We’ll sleep better at night knowing that you and your dragon will be here watching out for us.”

You squeeze Ceridwen’s hand and send them both a small smile as you begin to turn and walk to your own bed. As you sink into the mattress you can’t help but take a deep breath, relishing in the warm feeling of familiarity and comfort.

True to their words, a few days later a pair of fliers come into the tavern looking for you, relaying your orders from Drake. Though you look up in shock when the man himself walks into the tavern not long after they had finished.

“Why are you here?” You ask in obvious confusion. “Jesper and Tusarr just told me everything I needed to know as far as orders.”

“Wonderful.” He clasps his hands, and you can see the agitation rolling off him only causing your confusion to continue. “I’m glad that has been cleared up, but that isn’t why I’m here. Unfortunately, I’m here on a personal matter regarding you.”

You quirk an eyebrow in invitation for him to continue.

“I don’t know what magic you’ve used, but it seems we’ve almost had another international incident with your rabble-rousing paramour.” You honestly feel like you’re in some sort of book, shaking your head slightly, Drake must be joking.

“The shadow wielder just about tore down the entire palace when he learned you weren’t in Cordyn. Though with his temper there was not time to explain to him that we knew where you were.”

Now a humorous smile is stretching across your face, and you can’t help when the laugh you’ve been trying to hold in bubbles out.

“I knew that you could embellish things, but this seems extreme, even for you Drake.” You say between laughter as your hand comes up to grasp Drake on the shoulder. Though your laugh begins to die down when you see the look on Drake’s face.

“O-Oh.” You stutter in amazement. “You really are serious.”

The indignant scoff he gives you is only broken off by the slamming of a door against the tavern wall. You both turn your head quickly as the air in the tavern turns icy with anger. 

“Why are you always with him?” The question comes out in a growl as the disgruntled man stalks towards you as if he’s the predator and you’re his prey.

Your eyes flash in challenge, after everything over the last year, you refuse to back down. 

Turning away from Xaden, you direct your next statement to Drake. “Thanks Drake. I’ll take it from here and I’ll speak with you again before you leave regarding the next few weeks.”

Drake gives you a curt nod and a small uptick of his mouth, turning away from Xaden and back out the door of the tavern. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turn your head and look up to meet the stare of the most insufferable man in your life, at the moment at least. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap at Xaden while straightening your spine. You relish in the surprise that flashes in his eyes when you step up into his space. 

“My problem. You just fucking left Cordyn and didn’t say a fucking word.” Xaden gets out between grit teeth.

“Here’s the problem Xaden.” Your tone short. “You think you have a say in where I go. You aren’t my wingleader anymore. I do not report to the cadre at Basgiath or in Aretia or whatever the gods names you are part of, so I don’t see where I’m stationed or move to is any of your business.”

You watch as his jaw ticks and you can feel the tension in his muscles from where he stands close to you. 

“I am more than aware of all of that. I am aware that I have no right to know where you are.” The anger in his voice is present, but his eyes tell a different story. In his onyx depths you can see the fear and panic swirl in and out of their golden flecks. “But for my own fucking sanity, I need to know.”

The last part comes out as little more than a whisper. An admission that looks like it may have cost the man in front of you his entire being. Xaden takes a shaky breath before closing his eyes.

“I have no right to demand anything from you, and I know that. But I about went out of my fucking mind when I searched for you, and you were nowhere in Cordyn.” He takes a small breath before the emotion clogging his throat stops him.

An arm shoots out and forcefully pulls you forward, his arms wrapping around you in a vice grip. “I ca- I can’t lose you like that again. You can’t just disappear.” The last part is a whisper in your ear as his face comes to burrow in your hair.

You stand there for a few moments unsure exactly what to do. After the night in Cordyn, you thought the way Xaden acted was just from the shock of finally seeing you again, but with this, you realize there is something more to it.

Finally giving in for just a moment, you bring your arms around Xaden’s waist and return the hug. You hear his breath hitch from where his face is still buried in your hair and his arms hug you tighter. 

“Truthfully, I wasn’t trying to hide from or scare you.” You tell him, your tone gentle. “There’s been intel given and I chose to come back here. This place is special to me.”

Xaden picks up his head looking at you with furrowed brows as you finish and give a labored sigh. 

“After I left Resson, I traveled on foot for a few days and found myself here. I worked in this tavern for a few months before the owner, Red, put me in contact with Drake to assist with the war effort.” Xaden watches you explain, and you see the hurt on his face at your tale of your own exploits after Resson. 

“Someone could’ve killed you if they knew you were a rider.” Xaden’s panic is palpable, and you huff a laugh.

“At the time, I didn’t really care.” Xaden’s eyes flash before he’s dragging you into another hug, crushing you even harder than before.

“Though I have to ask one question.” You say as you pull away from Xaden’s hold. “If I didn’t disappear, would you be acting this way? Would you be fighting for me like you are now?”

The look on Xaden’s face makes you shake your head and move a few steps away putting much needed space between the two of you.

“Exactly.” Resigned, you continue, maybe because you want to add salt to the wound making him suffer like you did. “While I was here, I was welcomed. Hell, I’d go out on a limb and say I’m loved. And you dare to be jealous of Drake, when he’s done nothing but look after me for the last few months.”

“Gods Xaden. Is there any us to go back to?” The bitterness in your voice cutting like the blade of your sheathed dagger.

“Don’t say that.” Xaden utters, a quiet plea.

“Why? It’s the truth. You’re trying to atone for something that I don’t even know if we can get past. How can I trust that when push comes to shove, I’ll be your priority?”

“Fuck! I know!” He says, his anger getting the best of him. “Do you not understand how angry I am at myself for the way I treated you. For the way I let you be left behind.”

Xaden begins pacing franticly in a way you’ve never seen before. “I’ve woken up every fucking day – when I did even fall asleep - replaying all the fucking ways I’ve failed you. The one person I never wanted to neglect; is the one person I wholeheartedly failed the most.”

“And no, I can’t change all my shitty actions. I can’t do anything but try to gain your trust back for the rest of my fucking life. I would gladly take a scar for every way that I’ve hurt you than lose you forever. You are the only sunshine I’ve found in a life that’s been filled with nothing but rainstorms and darkness. I’ll do whatever I can to prove to you that I’m worthy of you. That you are my only priority.” As he was speaking Xaden grabbed your hands in his and continued to drag his thumbs over your wrists, grounding you to the feeling of him. 

Tipping back your head and closing your eyes to take a moment for yourself, you try to clear your mind from all the hurt that you’ve felt. To wade through the overwhelming swath of emotions. 

But your head jerks up and eyes go wide as you hear the sirens blare. Pulling your hands from Xaden, you yell for Jesper and Tusarr telling them to find Drake.

As you sheath the few weapons you had left behind the counter, you look back to Xaden. “We can discuss this more later, but you need to leave. That’s the attack siren and if Dhìoch is correct we only have about twenty minutes.”

He looks at you with steel in his eyes. “I’m not fucking leaving.”

“Yes, you are.” You say back with finality. “You aren’t even supposed to be here and this isn’t your fight. You need to get back to your own riot.”

“I’m not fucking leaving you here to fight alone.” Xaden hisses through grit teeth as you both walk out of the tavern.

You turn and pull him down by the lapels on his jacket. “Yes. You. Are.” Steel in your gaze and words. “This is not your fight. This is Poromiel, not Navarre, not Aretia, not Tyrrendor. Go home and defend it.”

You let go and get two steps before his hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you backwards. 

“I’m going to get the rest of my riot from Draithus and will be right back.” He explains, his face directly in yours. “Do not be reckless.”

Before you can give him a sarcastic sass back, you are plastered to his chest, his hands in your hair at the nape of your neck, and he’s kissing you with a ferocity you’ve never felt from him. You gasp as the kiss ends as quickly as it began and he’s tearing himself away and mounting Sgaeyl.

You blink a few times and then shake your head, trying to clear it before running for Dhìoch. 

‘You need to clear your head for battle.’ Dhìoch sasses, clear amusement in her tone.

‘And you need to learn to tell me when Sgaeyl is here and bringing around her infuriating rider.’ You snark back with an irritated sneer to the back of your dragon’s head.

‘He may be infuriating, but he still has your heart racing.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s need to maneuver in to your personal life. 

Your banter with your dragon is cut short when you see an entire hoard of wyvern in the distance heading straight towards Pavis. 

‘Are you ready for this Dhìoch?’ You ask, your mind calculating on the best ways to strike.

‘We will not fail. Now brace yourself Loyal One.’ Dhìoch says before shooting straight towards the hoard.

Your heart rate kicks up as the prospect of your first battle back with your dragon begins. 

‘Can you relay the information to the gryphons to help evacuate the citizens and we’ll handle the hoard?’ You direct.

‘Done, they are working to put them in the safe houses.’ Dhìoch confirms as she cuts through the air with a precision you admire. 

As you get closer, your eyes widen at the amount of venin atop the wyvern. You try to count, but you lose it at five. Gears clicking in your mind, you take a mental tally of the alloyed daggers you have on you and know you must keep them close. Having only three will limit your ability to throw. 

‘Are you ready Dhìoch? I’m going to need you to fly as close to the wyvern as possible.’ You ask as you go over the plan in your head.

‘I don’t believe the Brooding One would agree with your plan, but yes we will take these abominations down.’ You ignore Dhìoch’s tease and reach for her power.

As you feel the sensation of her power fill your veins you look down to see your fingers disappear from view. Once you can feel yourself fully cloaked, you carefully stand and walk as close to the juncture of Dhìoch’s leg and wing. As Dhìoch begins to hover, you duck to avoid scorching blue fire as it sizzles through the air above you and immediately slide down off her back.

Landing on the back of one of the smaller wyverns, you crouch and try to gain your balance as best as possible. The small form in front of you wears purple leathers and you assume this must be one of their students. Without giving the venin time to turn around, you fling one of your three daggers and hit it in the back of the neck. You watch as the blood flows and the venin goes limp. Before you can jump, you feel the wyvern you are on begin to rapidly descend. 

Immediately rising to your feet, you don’t think and just jump though you know you are too close to the wyverns falling body.

‘Dhìoch!’ Your mental voice is panicked as you are unsure where your dragon is currently. The panic doesn’t last long as you suddenly feel talons wrap around you. Drawing a ragged, grateful breath when you see the coppery sheen above you.

‘You should trust me more than that.’ Dhìoch says in an offended tone as she tosses you up and catches you on her back.

Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Yes, well I wasn’t expecting that wyvern to go into freefall.’

You get back into your seat and Dhìoch begins to climb above the battle again. Looking down, you can see a venin on the way into the heart of town. Panic begins to rise when you realize that Ceridwen and Red are in the perfect collision course for the venin.

‘You must take me down Dhìoch. I won’t let anything happen to them.’ You can feel your terror begin to take over at the thought of something happening to the couple that took you in.

‘Get them out and then come right back. I will not let you get drained on the ground.’ Dhìoch growls, her disapproval evident. 

Dhìoch begins her descent, and you know this will be a running landing. Throwing up a quick prayer to Zinhal, you rise from her back and head back to her shoulder. As she hits to the perfect height, you let yourself fall and with more ease than you expected, you are immediately running towards the tavern. 

“Red! Ceridwen! Get out now!” You yell at the top of your lungs racing for the front of the tavern. 

Ceridwen darts out of the front door with a small satchel in tow. Behind her your eyes widen as Red dons his brown leathers and is sheathing a sword to his back.

“You should be taking shelter with Ceridwen!” You yell at him as soon as he’s in earshot.

He gives you a look that shows he is anything but impressed. “No, I should be fighting for you and Ceridwen both and that is what I intend to do.”

Ceridwen comes next to you and puts a hand on your forearm. “You’re fighting a losing battle my dear, so instead of wasting any time, let’s go.”

You shake your head and begin pulling Ceridwen along. ‘Dhìoch can you tell Tusarr to help get Ceridwen to safety.’ A low growl in your head is the only response before you hear the screech of a gryphon landing. 

“Go with Tusarr, she’ll take you to the others. I’ll take care of Red the best I can.” You say to Ceridwen before she tugs you close in a tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, my dear, and don’t worry about Red, he can take care of himself.” She says before letting you go and repeating the same process with Red.

‘Alright Dhìoch, let’s take down some more of these dark wielders.’ You say as you run towards an opening for Dhìoch to land.

As you see her scales come into view, you turn, and your eyes fly wide. In the few minutes since leaving Red behind a venin has materialized and is staring him down. Letting Dhìoch’s power flow, you mask yourself and begin sprinting toward Red’s side. 

Getting closer you see him locked in battle and as much as you don’t want to admit it to yourself, his strength seems to be waning. 

Your heart stops and eyes go wide as you watch the venin slash down Red’s arm with a dagger that was just dripping with a green liquid.

“NO!” The scream rips from your lips as Red slashes his sword towards the venin slashing at its throat. As you slowly get closer you can see Red’s movements becoming sluggish.

Please Malek, no! Take me instead!

‘Dhìoch you need to get Red to the healers and tell Drake to get him healed.’ You demand of your dragon. 

Not taking your eyes from the venin still managing to stand, you stalk forward, cloaked and invisible. Your face contorted in rage, you continue running and pull the alloyed dagger from your ribs. Without stopping, you barrel into the venin with your dagger leading straight into his chest. The venin hisses at the impact and the dive of your blade. Blood rushing in your ears, you fall with the venin, and it isn’t until you roll, now looking up at the sky that a familiar burning pain breaks through at your wrist.

You don’t need to look down to know that some of the poison is now in your system, but you won’t let them win. You won’t let the venin take Pavis without a fight. Slowly rising to your feet and looking at your surroundings., the town that you have loved is now alight in flames surrounded with a thick smoke, suffocating the beautiful town center. 

‘I am on my way to you, Loyal One.’ Dhìoch confirms as you begin to jog towards an area for her to land.

As soon as you see Dhìoch’s talons hit the ground, you start running for her leg. Your breathing is coming in rapid pants as you try to ignore the burn in your arm. 

‘You need to be seen by a healer as well.’ Dhìoch growls as you tear a strip from your shirt and wrap your wrist.

‘No. I will save these people first, with or without your help.’ You demand without feeling any remorse for your biting tone.

You can feel Dhìoch’s displeasure at your response down the bond, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she flies back into the din, the stifling smell of smoke rising from the ground and clouding your vision. As though Zinhal hears your pleas, there is a break in the smoke on the horizon and you spot a venin with its robes billowing in the wind.

‘That one’s next.’ You refuse to hear any argument from Dhìoch as you set your sights on the enemy in front of you. Dhìoch slices through the air and as you grow closer to the venin, you can see the brilliant red that spiders from the creature’s eyes down the sides of its face.

Dhìoch clearly has read your intentions and begins her ascent to hover over the massive wyvern that has your next target. As she levels out, you begin to lower to her shoulder but can’t bite back a sharp intake of breath when your wrist moves, the poison making its presence known. You try to avoid the sting and crouch before launching yourself from Dhìoch’s back.

For a few seconds you are airborne and hoping that you estimated the correct spot. You don’t have long to worry as you feel your feet hit the leathery surface of the wyvern. You let your entire body drop as you try to gain your balance on the creature. 

Looking up, your eyes fly wide realizing that the venin can see you and is looking directly into your eyes.

“Ah, the pained one again makes an appearance. Tell me, do you really think you can win this challenge?” The oily voice that drags from the venin in front of you draws shivers down your spine.

You don’t respond as you know there is no reason. The venin slowly stalks towards you, wind whipping at their robes with two blades drawn. Assessing the way the venin moves; you know that you’ll have to be quick.

‘Make sure you’re below me Dhìoch, just in case.’ You hear the hum of agreement in your mind as you draw your blade.

‘Dispatch the dark wielder quickly. You need to get back to the flyer captain.’ You hear the slight concern in Dhìoch’s voice.

You continue using Dhìoch’s power to remain cloaked, although you’re unsure of how much use it Is against the venin. Creeping forward you hold an alloy hilted dagger in your right hand. Letting the thought linger too long, you must go on the defensive when the venin strikes first, and the bite of a dagger slashes close to your face. 

Ducking down, you feel your foot slip slightly on the leathery back of the wyvern. Without thinking through your moves, you slam a dagger into the back of the wyvern to avoid falling. The minute it embeds, the wyvern bucks and you can do nothing but hold on as best you can, your wrist burning with fury. Regrettably, the venin does not seem to be affected by the wyverns thrashing. You watch as they continue to get closer and try to throw your right leg up and regain your balance. 

Pulling yourself up, you don’t see as the venin brings one of its blades down and though you move quickly, it isn’t quick enough to evade the blade completely. An agonizing scream tears from you as the blade pierces your side.

‘Loyal One, finish it!’ Dhìoch demand is covered in icy dread as you try to push past the pain. 

Taking as deep of a breath as you can, you gather your remaining strength and duck as the venin goes to slash at your other side. A loud roar sounds that causes the venin to turn its head and you take the opportunity to bury your remaining alloyed dagger into its throat. 

The venin coughs and sputters grabbing at its throat, but you watch as the skin around it begins greying and shriveling.

“You bitch!” The venin gasps and lunges towards you. Losing your balance, you trip backwards and find yourself falling from the leathered surface of the wyvern. A particularly fiery jolt of pain slashes through you as you begin falling and you watch as your arms raise, and you can see you are no longer invisible.

“Y/N!” A voice calls in the distance and you turn to see a blur of blue. As your mind is drug down with poison, you barely have the cognizance to call out for Dhìoch. 

You hear air furiously whipping around you and all the breath tumbles from your lungs when you hit a rough surface hard. The impact has your vision going completely black as your body jerks from the impact. 

With all the poison coursing through your veins, it proves impossible to open your eyes, but you can feel that your body is still rolling. The only thought left is that those you care about are safe before you succumb to the darkness.

You feel your consciousness pull forward, even though your body feels like a thousand weights are tied to it, even your eyelids feel tethered. The roughness that you remember last seems to be replaced with something soft and the fire in your veins only a light hum. The exhaustion of your mind and body don’t keep your conscious state around long as you feel yourself drift again. 

Unsure of how long you’ve been in a state of poisoned dissidence you finally feel as if you can move your small extremities. You take the time to try and wiggle your fingers and toes, but your eyelids still feel like they have anchors attached. You try straining to hear any sounds around you, but everything still feels slightly muffled.

“How long is this going to take?” An impatient male voice penetrates your ears.

“That’s not something I can predict. I can’t mend the poison from her system.” Another male voice replies in exhaustion.

“It’s been over a week. It didn’t take this long when Violet was poisoned.” Confusion swirls in your brain as you try to place the name that seems so familiar. 

“I understand, but poison doesn’t affect every person the same. Besides, from the light discoloration from her veins on her left arm, it seems like this has happened before.” The exhausted male voice replies.

You can hear as the pacing footsteps suddenly halt. “What?!?” The other voice says a tone that seems slightly panicked but also filled with fury.

“Didn’t you notice the black veins running down her arm while we were in Cordyn. They stood in stark relief to her skin and that dress.” You’d give anything to move your body, wanting to wrap your arms around yourself in soothing gesture at the conversation you’re hearing.

“I was a little busy trying to keep myself in one place and not forcefully pick her up and leave with Sgaeyl, so no, I suppose I didn’t notice.” Realization hits as now you realize its Xaden’s voice you’re hearing. “Besides, why would that matter, that was over a month ago now.”

“Yes, but her body obviously wasn’t recovered from that poisoning, so now it’s taking longer.” The other male in the room has a voice that sounds familiar now, but you still can’t place it.

“And I’m going out of my fucking mind. I’m being ordered to Draithus again tomorrow and I can’t leave not knowing if she’s going to be okay.” Xaden’s voice becomes tight with worry and frustration.

“Unfortunately, Lieutenant, you don’t have much of a choice. You’re going to be leaving tomorrow with Sgaeyl and you’ll have to deal with it.” The voice has grown hard, both with weariness and aggravation. 

“Don’t fucking try me, Brennan. You won’t fucking win.” Xaden challenges.

“Oh, I don’t have to try you. Lieutenant Colonel, remember?” With that last statement, you hear as footsteps sound and a door clicking shut behind them. 

As you begin to feel the eternal pull of sleep weighing on your body again, you notice the bed you’re in dip down slightly. 

“Blaze, I need you to fight this. I need you with me. You can’t leave me again, not like this, not before I can show you how much I love you.” There’s no mistaking the pain in Xaden’s voice and the way it breaks in and out. It’s clear that he’s barely holding himself together, but the pull of darkness is too sweet to deny.

 

Taking a deep breath, you finally feel the ability to flutter your eyes open. Though as you do and stare up at the ceiling, everything still feels foggy. You’re unsure of how long you just lay there with your eyes open, but eventually you gather enough strength to sit up. 

Looking around, your brow furrows trying to place the room you are in. It’s well appointed, but there’s no white marble and blinding gold, this chamber is pure stone with tapestries lining the wall generating some warmth to the space. You look up at an armoire that is at the side of the room and turn to see a door that you assume must be a bathing chamber. 

There is a large green chair that has been posted next to the bed as if someone was sitting there waiting for you. You close your eyes as you try to clear the fog that still clings to your brain and memories. The action feels like wading through waist deep water, and you can’t help the confusion that seems to settle.

Brows furrowing you try to remember the last place you were, because you know it wasn’t wherever this is. Looking down, you see that you’re in a pair of loose-fitting black pants and oversized shirt. Running a hand through your hair, your nose scrunches at the greasy feeling of your hair. Whatever has happened in the last few days, the only thing you want right now is a nice long shower.

Slowly picking your overtired body from the bed, you shift to a standing position. Trying your best not to wobble, you walk into the bathing chamber and immediately spot the shower and take a deep breath. Hobbling straight over, you turn the taps and let the warm water run through your fingers relishing in the feeling. You let yourself relax into the shower and hope to Amari that the water will wash the fog of your mind. 

Grabbing a towel and drying yourself, you walk towards the mirror and place your hands on the sink sucking in a breath and letting the granite hold your weight. The peace that settled into you during your shower is short lived as you look up into the mirror. 

Gasping, you fumble backwards, and your hand flies up to your chest. You watch the mirror as your fingers trace the scar on the left side of your body and the lingering blackness. Eyes flying wide, the memories of the battle rush back in a torrent causing you to move. 

You go back into the room, the peace of the shower completely gone, and search for clothes. You see riding leathers that look to be about the right size and immediately begin tugging them on your body. Lacing your boots with as much efficiency as you can master, you are shooting up, not concerned about your hair or the fact that you don’t even know where you are. 

Only one thought is pulsing through your mind. ‘Is Red alright? And where is Ceridwen?’ The thought leaves unbidden, and you pull up to a halt at the bottom of the stairs when there’s a response.

‘They are both safe and resting in a small cottage in town.’ Dhìoch’s voice slithers quietly into your mind.

‘Can you take me to them?’ You ask as everything hits in succession.

You know you must look like a crazed fiend, but your emotions are hitting you from every side and you need to see they are safe for yourself. There’s a minute where you think Dhìoch will deny you, but then you just ignore her and begin back down the stairs and sprint out large doors. 

Unsure where you are and where you are going, you turn and see a small town in the valley below. Turning back your eyes widen at the stone fortress that you just exited from. 

I’ll worry about that later. Is the only thought you have as you begin walking towards the town below. You have no idea where you are going, just that you need to lay eyes on the two people that saved you from yourself.

As you begin to enter the thick of the town, you wrap your arms around yourself as you brace from the cold wind that has begun whipping around you. Arriving at the heart of the town, you enter into one of the taverns. 

“Excuse me.” You say as you walk up to the barkeep. “Do you happen to know if there was a couple that was brought to this village from Pavis a few days ago? Their names are –.“

“Y/N!” You cut yourself off as you hear the familiar voice yell your name.

“Ceridwen!” You yell back and instantly run towards her and embrace her in a bruising hug. 

“Thank the gods! We’ve been so worried about you.” She gets out in a rush parsing over you as if looking for injuries.

“I’m fine. How are you? Is Red alright?” The rush of your words and panic in your eyes makes Ceridwen soften her eyes at you.

“Thanks to you.” She says as she grabs you by the arm. “Come. I know he will be ecstatic to see you finally awake.”

She leads you back out into the town and the tension in your chest begins to ease slightly at her warmth. A small smile spreads on your lips as you get closer to a small cottage closer to the outskirts of the town. Hope fluttering in your chest as Ceridwen goes to open the wooden door and you can’t help but notice the green roof that seems to line every house you’ve passed.

“Ceri did you happen to get any eggs while you were out.” A male voice calls that immediately has you taking a breath of relief. 

Walking further into the room, a beaming smile spreads across your face that you can’t control. 

“Thank the gods!” Red says in a breathless whisper before tugging you into a fierce hug.

You let your body slacken as the relief of seeing them both crashes over you, Ceridwen coming up behind you and hugging you as well. You let yourself melt into the warmth of their hugs and take the first deep breath you’ve had since you’ve woken up in this strange place.

An hour later you find yourself drifting, your eyes involuntarily closing as the exertion of your day begins to hit you full force.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get you in bed.” You hear Ceridwen whisper softly.

“I don’t want to intrude.” You say though it comes out in a yawn.

“My dear, you saved our lives, the least we can do is let you rest.” You don’t argue with her logic and slowly follow her to one of the bedrooms. As soon as you step next to the bed, you fall into the mattress and your eyes slide closed.

The next day, you feel at least some of your energy has returned to its normal state and take a short walk into the hills surrounding the town. As you sit with your back on one of the trees, you breathe in the clean air and let the calm of the forest wash over you.

‘Why are you always such trouble?’ Dhìoch slides into your mind a hint of amusement in her tone.

‘Excuse me. How exactly am I trouble? And hello to you too.’ You don’t try to hide your indignation. 

‘Always the one to jump in and save others. Then taking two weeks to wake up.’ You scoff at your dragon, especially when she is intruding on the little solitude you seemed to have found. It isn’t as if you asked to be poisoned again.

‘You could’ve found another rider. I gave you the opportunity to leave me behind.’ Your dragon’s snarl curls around your mind and you know she would be knocking you to the ground if she was in front of you.

‘That isn’t what I was implying. You aren’t the trouble for me. Sgaeyl is.’ Dhìoch says, her tone bored. Though you can’t help but send your confusion through your bond. In the back of your mind a faint whisper of someone talking while you were poisoned flits in your mind, but you can’t quite place it. 

‘Dhìoch, where exactly are we anyway.’ You look around and there is something so familiar about the land, but the answer seems to evade you.

‘I believe the answer to all of that will be coming very shortly.’ You roll your eyes at your dragon’s insistent use of non-answers to your questions. 

Beginning to feel your body tire again, you slowly rise to your feet to begin the trek back to Red and Ceridwen’s cottage. You didn’t ask them where you were, but you were so concerned with their safety, you didn’t care. Knowing they were both safe was the only thought that crossed your mind. 

As you get closer to the cottage, your body begins to feel to heavy and when you go to take your next step, your knee gives out. Expecting to crash to the ground, your eyes snap closed and you brace for the impact. When impact doesn’t come, you open your eyes back up and they flare as they lock with onyx ones.

With two long strides you find yourself gathered tightly in Xaden’s arms and his head buried in your hair. 

“You’re going to send me to Malek one of these days.” He whispers in your hair, though there’s no bite to his tone. You huff a humorless laugh at the statement while still being crushed to the chiseled lines of his chest.

“For some reason I think I have an appointment with the god of death before you do.” You sass back at the insufferable man that has your entire being plastered to him. As if in offense, his arms tighten around you further.

“Don’t even fucking joke like that.” His words come out hard a biting tone to every syllable.

He suddenly pulls you back and stares intensely back into your eyes. He continues searching yours before the exhaustion of the day starts to seep into you again. You let out a large yawn and begin to pull away from him.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Before you can get further than two steps ahead, Xaden has grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around.

“Then come with me.” His tone now soft as he looks pleadingly into your eyes. 

“Come with you where? I don’t even know where we are. All I know is there are two people that are grateful for my existence in this cottage that offered me a warm bed.” You continue as you gesture towards the cottage. 

“You’re in Aretia. I took you here after Pavis was evacuated.” He says as if that is an entire explanation.  

“While I appreciate everything you’ve done for Red and Ceridwen, I’ll only be staying until I feel back to myself fully.” You say turning again to walk away.

“You are staying here.” Xaden states with finality and you whir around fully intending to give him a piece of your mind at his overbearing insistence. Your plans however are dashed when the world begins to tilt, and your eyes roll skyward.

“Y/N, Love.” Is all you hear before you feel weightless and find yourself wrapped up in Xaden’s arms and he begins to jog. Unsure of what is happening, you try to let yourself relax as breathing becomes more of a chore. 

Seeming to fade back in and out, you suddenly feel the sharp sting of wind at your face, though Xaden tries to fold you closer towards his chest. “You’ll be alright love; you just need to hold on for me.” Xaden whispers, his mouth grazing your ear with every word. His words may be steady, but there is no mistaking the dread laced in their tone.

As your breathing begins to grow shallow, you’re jolted in Xaden’s arms. Trying to open your eyes, you are met with the looming shadow of the fortress that you had left from a day ago. Though that isn’t what shocks your system.

Your eyes catch Xaden’s for only a heartbeat, but the absolute terror swirling in them puts a crack in the wall that you’ve had up for months. 

“Where’s Brennan?” Xaden barks, between the force of the command and the panic you can only imagine the way people part for the man.

“Wh-what the hell Riorson?” Another male voice questions from further away.

“You need to help her. She fainted and she’s barely breathing.” Xaden explains as you can feel him climbing and hear as a door is kicked open. 

“Stop standing there and fucking help her!” The roar leaving Xaden’s lips has your pulse jumping at the threatening tone.

“You need to calm down. Most likely it’s just the aftereffects of the poison trying to leave her system.” The calm male voice says as you feel Xaden place you down on a soft surface.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down.” Xaden growls. “She’s been out for two fucking weeks and then disappears and no one fucking tells me! You want me to calm down, then fix her!”

No words are exchanged before you hear footsteps coming closer to the bed and then a warm sensation seems to wash over your skin. As the warmth begins to fade, you finally take a deep breath and exhale out of your mouth, eyes fluttering open to the familiar stone ceiling you had woken to before.

“Thank the gods.” A breathless whisper comes before Xaden is kneeling next to the bed you are in, closer to your head. Your head turns and you’re met with the eyes that you can never seem to get out of your mind. He brings a hand to your head and cradles your cheek, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a soothing motion. 

“What happened?” Your brows furrow as you blink your eyes trying to clear the fog in your head.

Another figure catches your attention, and you look down to see a man you’ve never seen before sitting at the base of the bed. 

“I believe it was the last remnants of poison pushing through your system.” The man with auburn curls tells you. 

Your eyes don’t stay on him long as you feel your body begin to drag you down again. Looking back up to Xaden, you slowly blink, the heaviness of sleep beckoning you. “I’m tired.”

“I know, my Love.” Xaden murmurs as his hand continues to stroke your cheek. “Sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You blame it on the exhaustion pulling at you when his words cause your entire body to warm and a spark in your chest begin to ignite, though the flicker grows hotter when he leans in and gives your forehead a lingering kiss. Not letting yourself dwell on your feelings, you close your eyes and let yourself drift. 

Unsure of how long it’s been since you’ve drifted, your eyes blink open to darkness around you. Trying to roll to your right and out of the bed, you are immediately stopped by hand that is firmly gripping yours. Turning your head, you see a large figure slouched in sleep in a large armchair brought as close as possible to the bed. 

You slowly untangle your fingers from Xaden’s and continue your roll out of the bed. Heading towards what you think are the windows, you silently let yourself lean into the wall. Pulling back one of the curtains, you let yourself relish in the bright light of the moon that highlights the town below. You take in all the little things you can see by the light of the moon, including the way the moonlight glistens over the green rooftops that dot the town.

Caught up in your perusal of the town, you jolt when you hear the quick snap of the chair on the floor and turn as the occupant jolts up and begins striding towards the door.  

“Xaden.” You murmur in bid not to scare him, and his head immediately turns towards your voice. Without responding to you, he meets you in two strides and turns you to face him. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The concern in his eyes and tone is evident, even in the soft way he holds you. 

“I’m…better. Not sure if I’ll ever be alright.” You reveal quietly which causes Xaden’s arms to tighten slightly around you. 

Resignation tearing at you, there’s no way to stop the words from forming. “What do you want Xaden? After living through the last few months, I need to know. What do you want?”

You let the seriousness of your question leech into your stare, not willing to pretend any longer.

“I want everything you’ll give me.” Xaden says bringing both hands to cup your face. 

“I can’t fucking let you go. I refuse.” He continues fervently his eyes blazing with conviction. “What I said back in Cordyn, I meant every godsdamned word. I just need you to believe me.”

Xaden continues to stare back at you his brows furrowing and eyes turning sad. “I need you to give me another chance. Just one. I promise I won’t disappoint you.”

Your eyes slide closed as your head battles with your heart. Your head tells you that you’ll never be the priority for this man, but your heart screams for you to give him another chance. It isn’t either of those things that win out though, it’s the words that Red and Ceridwen left you with when you talked last night.

“No relationship is perfect, especially when you’re young. Life is always going to throw different problems in front of love, that's what makes finding it so special. But, if you find the one person that will fight tooth and nail to love you, you hold it close, because no relationship will succeed without the will to fight for it – you can’t just let it go.” Ceridwen finished while she gave Red’s hand a squeeze.

Opening your eyes, you can see the expectant look on Xaden’s face and the stiffness of his arms, even though his touch is still gentle on your cheeks.

“Are you going to fight for this like you will for the continent?” Your question comes out quiet, almost afraid of the answer.

“I will fight with everything in my being, until my last dying breath. I will always fight for you harder than I would ever fight for the continent.” The fiery conviction is only met with absolute certainty as his arm tightens snuggly around your waist tugging you against him. 

Your own hand comes up and pulls his other from your cheek. As you bring it down, you turn his palm and give it a lingering kiss. His breath hitches as his hand tunnels into your hair drawing you fully against him. 

After some time, Xaden’s hand moves to your neck and angles it to look up into his eyes. The moonlight seems to cast them into pools of gold, a swirling mass of love hidden in every corner.

“May I kiss you?” Xaden breathes out in a whisper as if he’s afraid to speak too loudly.

“Only if you promise it’s only the first in a lifetime’s worth.” The smile that he gives you is brighter than the sun before he tugs your face forward and his lips crash to yours.

Caught off guard at the ferocity behind the gesture, you can’t help your smile and the small laugh that bubbles up. You feel as Xaden’s lips curl into their own smile before the kiss turns languid. 

Xaden continues to kiss you slow, as if he’s trying to re-memorize every single corner of your mouth. You feel yourself melt into his arms as he slowly backs up and sits down on the bed. Without breaking the kiss, he pulls you down onto his lap while tightening his grip as if he can’t stand to have a single bit of space between you. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel every inch of his body press into yours. He pulls away slightly giving your neck a lingering kiss and rests his forehead against yours.

“Gods, I missed you. Your taste, your lips, the way you fit in my arms.” Xaden says as he punctuates each one with a kiss. 

“Missed me enough to always put me first?” The seriousness of your voice and conviction in your eyes showing through.

Grabbing your face with both hands, Xaden’s eyes seem to search every corner of yours. “No one and nothing will ever come before you again. That is the easiest promise that I could ever make.”

His hand slides to your waist and pulls you flush against him and for the first time in months, you let yourself relax into his touch and breathe him in. As he feels your body soften against him, he brings your head to rest in the crook of his neck and leaves a lingering kiss on your temple before burying his face in your hair.

“You are the light to my shadow. The only home I’ll ever find rest in, and I’ll spend the rest of my life more than satisfied if I always have you.” He whispers in your hair, and in the darkness of his room, in the middle of the night, you breathe deeply and your heart settles as you find your own home in him.

Taglist: @honethatty12 @motorsportloverf1 @annthepenguin @dragonsandrinks @acourtofsmutandstarlight @minidemont @bookishcait

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 12: The Fight (Warning: this chapter will feature blood and violence. Proceed at your own risk)

“Look at all this,” you whisper as you take in the sights of the Strip, all the various casinos and hotels lighting up the night sky. “I returned to Nevada four years ago and I’ve never been here before. What the hell was I thinking?”

(You were trying to set up your new life, which was the responsible thing to do back then. But, we agree, coming here sooner would not have been unwelcome. This city seems to be a source of endless entertainment.)

You had finished the DLC for Salvage Rights earlier today and to celebrate both its release and its positive reception, you decided to treat yourself by going to Sin City and indulging in its various casinos and restaurants; you have the knowledge and experience of countless gamblers from Gotham, so you should be able to play blackjack and poker with the best of them.

You thought you were prepared to handle and glitz and glamor Vegas has to offer, but seeing it with your own eyes has left you speechless. The lights have you mesmerized and you’re loving it! Everywhere you look, there’s something beckoning you, like a moth to a flame and right now, you don’t care if you get burned.

“Hey, look over there,” you say, stopping to look at something above you in the distance.

The sight is a towering building proudly bearing the name “Caesar’s Palace” in lights. During your brief research for your trip to the Strip, you read Caesar’s Palace is one of the most popular casinos in the city and is also a popular destination for dining.

(You did say you wanted the “full Vegas experience.” Going to one of the largest establishments in the city would be a step in the right direction.)

When you first thought of this little excursion, you wanted to have fun, but didn’t want to get trapped in the larger ones and lose all the money you brought in with you, instead opting to stay in the smaller casinos. “Keep it simple, keep it safe,” you said a few hours ago.

Now, the lights of the massive casino before you has ensnared you and is luring you towards it like an angler fish does with its prey.

“Ave, true to Caesar,” you say as you begin the trek towards the towering monolith.

If the outside was mesmerizing, then the inside is absolutely enthralling! As expected of a place named after a Greek emperor, the interior looks like a palace plucked from the Greek Empire, complete with marble and gold, making you feel like royalty.

(We take it we are going to play here?)

“Damn right,” you say as you enter the casino part of the resort, taking in the seemingly endless rows to slot machines, card tables, and other various gambling set ups.

As you look at each slot machine and table, you’re flooded with information from the Megamycete’s archives on what you want to see when playing slot machines and when is the best time to stand when playing blackjack. While Gotham doesn’t have shit on Vegas, it did have a passable gambling scene, which attracted many expert gamblers to that City of the Damned.

With your newfound knowledge in hand, you exchange the thousand bucks you brought with you for chips and make your way to a roulette table with only one other person.

“Good evening, sir,” the dealer greets you as you situate yourself of the other side of the table, away from the other player. “Will you be joining us?”

“Deal me in,” you respond, pushing a few chips on the table to test the waters. You may know the basics from playing Fallout New Vegas, but this is real life with real money being risked and this time you don’t have a maxed out Luck stat to cheat the system with.

A few hands in and you can say for sure you love gambling. Sure, you’ve lost a few rounds, ruining a couple hot streaks, but right now, you have more money than you came in with.

“Fifteen, odd, black,” the dealer says when the ball finally stops spinning before giving you the pot, much to your delight.

“Goddamn it,” the other man exclaims, shoving himself away from the table and storming off, hopefully towards the exit as tonight has not been his night.

“I apologize for that display,” the deal says as he readies the spinner for the next round. “Will you be playing another round?”

“Definitely,” you respond, sliding three-hundred dollars worth of chips onto red.

“Have room for one more,” a masculine voice rings out next to you.

You tense up when the voice registers in your head and you look to your right to see Bruce fucking Wayne, looking down at you with that fake ass smile he gives the idiots of Gotham. Your anger only intensifies when he places a thousand dollars worth of chips into the pot.

What the hell is he doing here?

(How dare he,) the Megamycete practically growls. (This is a night meant for you to enjoy yourself and he intrudes upon it, and in your city no less.)

“Welcome, Mr. Wayne,” the dealer says as he spins the spinner after the bastard places his bet.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says to you, his focus on you and not the spinner. “I have to say, I don’t peg you as the gambling type.”

You say nothing, not wanting to give him any sort of satisfaction, and focus on the game.

“It’s a very dangerous habit if you’re not careful,” he chides you as the baller begins to slow down. “And coming to a place like Vegas? It’s not safe for someone like you. You should be back home, where you belong.”

You know the “home” he’s referring to isn’t your house in Goodsprings, but Wayne Manor in Gotham and it’s taking all your willpower not to pimp smack the shit out of him right now. This was meant to be a night for you to have fun in Vegas and you’re not gonna let him ruin that like he did the night you won your award.

“Gotham has plenty of high-end casinos where you can play all the games you want. I could take you to each of them and make sure you get the VIP treatment.”

“Vegas is far safer than Gotham,” you retort. “Here, the biggest threat you face is losing your money when you don’t know when to quit. In Gotham, you have nut jobs running around killing people on a nightly basis and the biggest nut job of them all beating the crap out of them.” You give him a mocking look, knowing something that would get under his skin. “No one in their right mind would live in that cesspit of a city. If you ask me, that place should be nuked to hell.”

While he manages to hide it well, you can see just the faintest of winces and you let your smirk show. For whatever reason, he thinks Gotham is the best place on the planet and is worth protecting. You learned about Gotham’s seedy history from its early days as a colony established in 1635 and you can say for certain that area is cursed. If you had your way, a giant wall would be built around Gotham and everyone inside would be left to kill each other and rot in that cursed city, especially the Waynes.

“Gotham has its flaws, sure,” he responds. “But I’m able to look past its dark side and see a bright future for both the city and everyone that calls it home. As you know, Wayne Enterprises has been the vanguard of breathing new life into the city.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I heard WE’s stock has practically become worthless in the last few days. Rumor has it all major stockholders are demanding for you to step down as CEO.”

“I’ve been in tight spots before and I’ve always come out on top. This will be no different. I’m sure things will turn back around in no time.”

“Six, even, black,” the dealer announces, bringing you back to the game. “Congratulations, Mister Wayne.”

You roll your eyes as the pot goes to the son of a bitch. You mentally shake your head and place your chips on the table for the next round.

“Maybe you should step down,” you say as the dealer begins the round. “I was stuck in that manor of yours for over a decade and I know it’s a mess. You should really get your house in order before you go around ‘fixing’ Gotham.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my family,” he growls. “It’s perfect the way it is.”

“No one’s buying that story anymore, Mister Wayne. I take it you haven’t read Lois Lane’s latest article?”

“Of course I have,” he says, glaring at you and it makes you want to laugh knowing how you’re testing his limits. “How could you say those things about your family?”

“You’re not my family,” you snap. “You all made it quite clear I wasn’t a part of it over and over. The only family I’ve ever had was Momma and she was taken from me.”

The anger in his eyes fade and he was silent for a moment. “I know we made mistakes during your time with us and we’re sorry about that.”

“It’s too little, too late, Mister Wayne.”

“Twenty-four, even, black,” the dealer states, clearly more interested in your conversation than the game.

You can’t help but smile as the chips make their way back to you and you place a bet of five-hundred for the next round. Of course, Bruce doesn’t go way and instead places another bet.

“Please, Y/N, come home,” he pleads as the spinner is spun. “We all miss you. Especially Alfred.”

“He’s welcome to visit me whenever he wants. The rest of you can go to hell.”

“Like it or not, they’re your siblings, Y/N,” he growls, getting closer to you. “And I’m your father. You will show them, and me, the respect that entails.”

“Respect is earned, not given,” you retort, getting close and looking up at him. He may terrify Gotham’s criminally insane, but you know you’re better than him in every way, so you’re not scared. “And don’t get it mixed up, you’re a sperm donor, not my father. God knows you never acted like it.” You lean close so that your face is mere inches away from his. “If you want, we can take this outside, Mister Wayne. Just remember what happened last time things got physical between us.”

“Now, now, gentlemen,” the dealer says. “Let’s keep this friendly. We’re all here to have fun, right?”

(Listen to him, Y/N. Do not let him ruin your first trip to Vegas. There will be plenty of time to put him in his place after we have had our fun.)

You continue to stare at him and direct all your anger and hatred towards him until he finally concedes and backs off and you do the same, just in time for the ball to finally stop.

“Nineteen, odd, red,” the dealer says as he slides the chips to you.

“I just want to make things right,” he says as he places his bet. “I know I treated you wrong and I want to fix that. So we can be father and son.”

You roll your eyes at the pathetic words and even more pathetic look as you place your bet and the deal begins the round. “You’re not sorry, Mister Wayne, you just feel guilty. Whatever conscious you have in your twisted little soul is making you feel bad and you can’t stand it, so that’s why you’re humiliating yourself trying to earn something I can never and will never give you: my forgiveness.”

He winces enough for both you and the dealer to see, but you find yourself taking no joy in fracturing his mask. This was supposed to be a night of fun and games, but he had to come all the way from Gotham and ruin it. It’s actually made you despise him even more, a task you thought impossible until now.

“Twelve, even, red,” the dealer states as he slides the chips towards Bruce.

It’s then you notice that you and him have almost the same amount of chips and the sight of it ignites an inferno of competition, which fuels your desire to assert your superiority over this pathetic creature before you.

(We are with you,) the Megamycete states firmly. (Show this interloper his place!)

“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says as you place all your chips on red, your mother’s favorite color, glaring at him as you do. It’s then he does the same thing, but places his chips on black, the color of the Bat.

How predictable.

With both your bets placed, the dealer spins the roulette, signaling the final round between you two. When that little ball stops spinning, one of you will take all and the other will lose all.

“Please, there must be something I can give you to show you I’m sincere. And you of all people should price is no object for me. Just name it and it’s yours.”

(How pathetic! He thinks all those years of abuse and neglect can be erased by buying you some insignificant trinket? Does he think you some whore that can be bought? Show him how wrong he is, Y/N!)

“You want to know what I want, Mister Wayne,” you ask, malice dripping with your every word, as the ball begins to slow down and clatter around. “I want you to know that I hate you more than anything else on this world; I want it to rattle around in your head for the rest of your life, from when you’re around your collection of misfits to when you lay your head down at night, that there’s no word or phrase in any language that has ever existed or ever will exist on this planet that can fully express how much animosity and hatred I have for you.”

It’s then that you get in his personal space has he had done with you earlier and use the mold so you can stretch your body ever so slightly so your face is almost touching him and stare into those eyes you’ve come to despise so much and they stare back at you, full of hurt and shock.

In the background, you can hear the ball beginning to slow down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the game. Right now, all that matters is conveying just how much you hate Bruce Wayne.

“I want you to grow old and die knowing that, in the end, I was the one that rejected you.”

His response? Nothing but the widening of his eyes and stepping back, as if you had struck him.

“Seven, odd, red,” the dealer says, obviously shocked at what you just said.

You say nothing as you gather your chips and walk away, leaving Bruce Wayne behind to reflect on your words.

As you walk, you notice your heart is beating enough to burst out for your chest and your face is molten hot, even without touching it. In the moment, you had no idea how your words affected you as much as they apparently did that bastard.

(Perhaps we should return home,) the Megamycete suggests. (The night has been ruined and you need to rest after that interaction. We can always return another night for entertainment.)

As much as you hate to admit it, it’s right; after that display, you’re not in the mood to see what else you can get up to in your first night in Vegas. Being around him has brought back much of the anger you thought you had finally buried after moving back to Goodsprings and getting your life together and it’s killed any desire for gambling, dining, and everything in between.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice sounding weak even to you. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly cash in your chips and pocket the check the cashier gives you before making your way towards the exit. From there, you walk around until you find an alleyway tucked into an isolated and desolate part of the city to sprout mold armor and wings before taking off into the night sky.

“You know, the city looks even more breathtaking from up here,” you remark as you enter the vast expanse of the Mojave.

(Indeed. Maybe when we return, we will earn enough money from playing games that we can stay in the highest level of the tallest hotel of the city and see it again.)

“Yeah,” you respond with a throaty chuckle. “That’d be nice.”

You look down at the desert beneath you when you feel something hit your wings, slicing through and severing them, leaving you to fall to the ground. You shout as you harden your armor just in time as you impact with the sand, creating a deep crater.

(Are you alright,) it asks as you climb your way out.

“Yeah,” you respond with a groan. “What the hell happened?”

You get your answer once you make your way to the top and see Bruce, donned in his Batman gear, looking down at you.

“Are you alright,” he asks, as if he wasn’t the cause of the incident.

You dismiss your mold helm and look at him square in his eye slits, taking a deep breath and exhaling before saying, ever so calmly, “I’m going to kill you now.”

And with your intentions declared, you summon a new pair of wings and launch yourself towards the bastard and before he can react, you grab him by the face with one hand and propel the both of you backwards, using to wings to fly as you forcibly shove his head into the sand and push him forward, creating a trail in your wake.

His hands fly to yours and attempt to free himself from your grasp, but you don’t give him the chance and throw him towards a nearby rock formation as hard as you can.

He can only flail around like a rag doll as he flies through the air and lands on the rock formation with a satisfying crash, sending debris and sand flying in all directions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough to keep him down as he’s quickly back on his feet. He reaches into his utility belt and throws a batarang at you and you respond by creating a similar object out of mold and send it flying towards it, the two of them hitting each other and falling to the ground.

Of course, he’s quick to act and before you can see it, he’s thrown something at you and you’re trapped in some kind of cable.

“What the hell,” you exclaim as you try to break free of the wire, but find yourself unable to.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says as he closes the gap between the two of you. “But you’re coming home and I’m gonna find a way to get rid of this thing inside you.”

You’re already pissed, but the way he says something so batshit crazy with a tone similar to one that you’d use to calm a startled animal enrages you even more.

How he can still be so determined to drag you back to Gotham when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you hate him and his family after everything they’ve done to you is nothing short of astounding.

(He seeks to separate us,) the Megamycete practically hisses. (Do not let him! Kill him, Y/N! Kill him!)

Your rage towards the man before you explodes like a blast furnace and you reduce your body to a murder of crows and fly towards Bruce at top speed.

He raises his arms to protect his face and you use your mold hardened beaks and talons to slice into his suit, leaving at least two dozen bloody cuts all over his body.

(Good! Hurt him even more! Bleed him dry!)

Your murder of crows fly around him, forcing him into a defensive posture, and you gather them all so you can reform into your armored form right behind him. He realizes what’s happened, but he can only turn around to face you when you grab his wrist as hard as you can, and wave him around in the air and slam him into the rock below you over and over, taking pleasure in the sounds of rock breaking with every hit.

It’s then you slam him into the rock and summon a mold sword. When he looks up at you and realizes what’s about to happen, he raises his hand just in time for your sword to go through his hand and the tip of your sword pierce the hardened Bat symbol on his chest; you know the symbol is the strongest part of his suit so it can protect whatever he has beating in his chest, but you’re determined, so it begins to crack and crumble as you drive the sword deeper in.

He tries to say something, but the damage you’ve done to him takes its toll as he can only gurgle something as blood begins to seep from the corner of his mouth.

You dismiss your helm as you lean down towards him, a vicious, bloodthirsty grin etched across your face, and the sword goes down just a little more.

“Let’s get rid of this, shall we,” you mock, grabbing his cowl, ignoring the shock the suit gives you in response. “I want to see the life fade from your eyes!”

And with that declaration, you rip the cowl off him, exposing his face, marred with bloody cuts and bruises, before you.

When you look into his eyes, you can see past the look of struggle is fear and terror.

(He knows this is the end! Finish him! Put an end to the Bat!)

“Goodbye, Mister Wayne!”

Just then, you see something fly past you and it’s then you realize the arm holding your sword has been sliced through. Bruce takes advantage of the situation and kicks you a few feet away from him and he backflips so he can put even more distance between the two of you.

You quickly collect yourself to see the source of the disruption: Dick and Cass, donned in their vigilante gear.

“You ok, B,” Dick asks as Bruce joins them.

“I’m fine,” he grunts out. “What are you doing here?”

“Alfred told us you were coming here and we knew something like this was going to happen. We all wanted to come, but we knew we couldn’t all leave Gotham, so we drew straws.”

The way he sounds so joyful pisses you off even more. How dare he! You were so close to putting an end to him and Dick had to come and ruin it!

(You should rip his limbs off! Strip him of his wings and cast him into the dam!)

Cass looks at you and you instantly know she’s analyzing you, determining possible strengths and weaknesses. When she sees that you’re missing a limb, her eyes widen.

“Oh,” Dick exclaims when he follows her gaze. “I’m so sorry, baby bird! I didn’t mean to do that! I just wanted to get you off of Bruce!”

You look down to find the severed appendage lying near your foot and go to pick it pick it up. While Dick is spouting endless apologies and pleas for you to stay calm, you merely place the limb where it once was and it begins to stitch itself back together. Once your arm is reattached, you fix your gaze back to them to find that they’re starring at you in shock at what just happened.

“Oh,” Dick manages to spit out after a few seconds of silence.

“This is between me and him,” you say as you take a few steps towards them. “Fuck off.”

“You need to stop this, baby bird,” Dick retorts. “We’re family, you shouldn’t be doing this!”

“You’re kidding, right,” you say with a mocking chuckle. “You people are constantly fighting with one another! If you’re not giving each other black eyes, you’re either breaking bones or slitting throats! You’re all a bunch of emotionally constipated psychopaths who belong in padded cells with the rest of Arkham’s lunatics! And I want nothing to do with any of you! So, for the last time, leave me the fuck alone!”

The only answer you get is the three of them getting into combat postures, indicating they’re ready to go on the attack.

“I give you the chance to walk away, and this is the thanks I get,” you sigh.

From the bottom of your feet, you command two mold tendrils to burrow into the sand below and snake their way over to them and once in place, you order them to burst out from beneath them; such a tactic would spell the end for normal people, but the Waynes are anything but normal, so they somehow knew you were up to something and scatter just as the tendrils emerge.

Still, you put them on the defense by ordering the tendrils to lash out at them, separating them from one another and forcing them to put all their focus on the tendrils while Bruce and Dick are dodging the lashing tendrils, you make your way to the nearest vigilante: Cass.

Just as you near her, she turns around and counters the slash of your mold sword with a blade of her own. You quickly realize that the few dozen people that possess any type of sword fighting prowess pale in comparison to Cass’ and decide to swap to hand-to-hand combat by punching her in gut when your blades were clashed together, sending her flying several feet.

She quickly recovers by the time you close the gap and she not only evades most of your punches, but she manages to give you a few.

What the hell, she shouldn’t be winning.

(Her fighting style is more advanced than anything we possess in our archives,) the Megamycete responds, sounding shameful. (We are unable to find a successful counter to her assault.)

Of course, it makes sense now! While Gotham may have attracted a few dozen experts in fighting over the centuries, Bruce has been trained by masters in every form of combat, including Ra’s Al Ghul, whose lifespan makes the Megamycete seem infantile in comparison. And he’s no doubt taught all of them his fighting style.

Just then, you feel something hit your back and explode, sending you flying. When you recover, you see Bruce and Dick have cut your tendrils and are now heading towards Cass to reinforce her.

(Their armories also seem to be more than we can handle,) it says as it repairs the damage done to your armor. (We have hardened your armor as much as we can, but it seems their tools will be able to penetrate our defenses.)

Shit, so that leaves you vulnerable to their fighting styles and their gadgets.

“Alright,” you mutter to yourself as you ready yourself. “We’ll just have to rely on the one thing none of them have ever had: powers.”

You repeat what you had done before and disperse your body into a murder of crows and send them flying around the Bats, causing them to huddle together and raise their arms in an attempt to protect themselves. You have enough crows continue to fly around them to keep them distracted while the rest of them form together to form your body, but with the addition of four, oversized spider-like legs extruding from your back.

You allow yourself to fall to the ground, the legs pointed down to form four very sharp stabbing implements. They look up just in time to see what’s about to happen, so they force their way through the swarm just as you land where they once stood. The remaining crows reintegrate into your body as you make your way towards them, jabbing your spider limbs in an attempt to stab any of them.

Dick and Cass have narrow frames, so they’re harder to hit, but Bruce’s more bulkier body makes him a more feasible target, so you shift your focus to him. After a few failed slashes, you manage to land a decent hit that causes him to fail onto his back. He tries to reach for his utility belt, but you use two of your limbs to pierce his shoulders and he lets out a pained yell s he struggles in vain to free himself from beneath you.

He looks up at you, a painful expression etched on his face, while you summon two small tendrils from your back, ready to deal the final blow.

“If I can’t rip out your non-existent heart, I’ll just have to settle for your head!”

But, just as you’re about to make good on your declaration, you feel something attach itself onto your back, throwing you off balance.

“Y/N, don’t,” a voice says from behind and it’s then you realize it’s not something on your back, but someone.

Specifically, Dick.

“Get off me, circus freak,” you snarl as you begin to struggle with him.

Deeming Dick the bigger threat, you shift your focus from Bruce to shaking off the acrobat any way you can, flailing around and reaching out to grab him so you can finally finish him off; while you want to kill Bruce more than anything right now, you want him to suffer before you shed his blood.

Making him watch as you rip his golden child’s head off while he’s powerless to stop it? Yes, that’ll do the trick.

It’s then you feel something at your spider feet and when you manage to look down while holding Dick at bay to see Cass, batarang in hand, cutting the feet pinning Bruce to the desert floor in an attempt to free him.

(She attempts to free the bastard,) the Megamycete hisses. (Kill her! Kill her now!)

But in typical fashion, Dick butts in where he’s not wanted and hurls himself towards you, latching onto your upper body, forcing you to brace your back spider legs to prevent you from tumbling down.

You watch in pure frustration as Cass slices off the parts of your legs pinning Bruce down and before you can react, the two of them hurl themselves onto you, joining Dick in trying to wrestle you to the ground.

You grab Dick with one hand and Cass with the other and just as you ready to summon a tendril to deal with Bruce and stabs you with some type of syringe, making you howl in pain at the sensation; instead of injecting you with something, you feel your blood being drained from you.

“Enough,” you hiss, hurling the two smaller vigilantes as far as you can before grabbing Bruce by both his shoulders and pulling him up so that the two of you are eye-to-eye.

It’s at this point your rage reaches its apex; this was suppose to be a night of fun out on the Strip, but the man before you not only had to ruin it by showing up, but now he’s come full circle on his batshit craziness by blasting you out of the sky and try to apprehend you like you’re one of the crazies from Arkham.

And to make matters worse, he had to bring two of his children, Dick being one of them! While you will always hate Bruce with every fiber of your being and Damian being an extremely close second, you’ve always had a strong resentment towards the eldest Wayne son. While the bastard will always say he loves all his children equally (minus you, of course), you know Dick will always be number one in Bruce’s heart due to him being the first child and being a capable Gotham socialite and vigilante.

And to add insult to injury, everyone always says Dick is everything an eldest brother should be: reliable, responsible, and doting. For years, you could nothing but cry as you saw him going out of his way to help and hang out with the other Wayne children, no matter how loudly they tried to reject it. Watching such the love and affection you craved be handed out so willingly and carefree to anyone but you made you think you would never be loved by anyone other than your deceased Momma.

You let out an inhuman howl in Bruce’s face as you shove your head into his right shoulder and latch onto it with your teeth with enough force to rival a hydraulic press. He lets out a pained yell and attempts to pull you off by your hair, but you apply more force until you eventually pierce through the armor, followed by the skin, then the muscle, and finally bone.

You pull your head back, bits of bone and flesh dangling from your teeth. You look to see his right arm practically dangling from just the barest of flesh and blood oozing from it like a waterfall. You shift your gaze from your handiwork to Bruce’s face to see the most delicious expression of pain etched on it and his complexion is pale and clammy.

At this point, you’re a crazed animal, chomping at the bit to go in for the kill on the wounded prey before you and rip it apart until it’s unrecognizable.

(Yes,) the Megamycete roars, its voice a symphony of bloodthirsty cheers. (Do it! Exact your vengeance upon him!)

Before you do anything, you feel something hit your back and explode, but unlike the first one, this one sends some sort of freezing gases scattering across your body, sending feelings of burning as your armor and spider legs rapidly freeze.

You howl in pain as you drop Bruce so you can slap at the affected areas, trying to find some way to relieve yourself of the freezing feeling.

(Hurts,) the Megamycete hisses. (Hurts!)

You rid yourself of your armor and spider legs by ripping it off your body, the frozen mold constructs shattering upon impact with the ground.

It’s then you realize you’re exposed and quickly turn around, ready to defend yourself when you see the three of them flying away on the Batwing at top speed. You could go after them, but after the fight with the Bats and their freezing grenade, you can only fall to your knees, trying to catch your breath.

(We had no idea we possessed such a vulnerability to the cold,) the Megamycete says, its voice sounding weak. (The winters of Gotham drove us to a state of near hibernation, but this is the first time we have ever had a reaction like that.)

“And now you know,” you manage to gasp out. “And so do they.”

You can only watch as the vehicle flies away as fast as it can, carrying three of the Bats away where they will no doubt share what’s happened here with the others, which will no doubt lead to even more encounters like this in the future.

“Shit.”

In the Batwing, Bruce knows Dick is talking to hi, his words quick and high pitched as he tries to dress his wound, but right now, he can’t bring himself to take his focus off the syringe filled with your blood.

When he set out for Vegas, he was determined to find a way to provoke you into showing him your powers and obtain a blood sample so he could perform more tests, but he didn’t think he’d discover a major weakness in your defenses.

While he hated to see the cryo grenade caused you so much pain, he can’t help but rejoice at the knowledge that there’s a crack in your armor and if he approaches it at the right angle, he can have you home far sooner than he anticipated.

And when you’re back home, he can find a way to get that damn thing out of you and return you to normal. And when that’s done, he can begin to make things right with you.

He grips the syringe harder, seeing the key to making his daily whole once again within your blood.

Tag List: @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia @wizzerreblogs @tinybrie @lilyalone @thickasthievingtoads @creativechaosx @randomlyappearingartist @ferchu0406 @kik1010 @butterflycardigann @1-800-crazy

[sachinteng]

Syntax Error

After years of being asked about it, I thought I'd tell the story of my peculiar name, and explain what this little logogram I started using is about.

I don't look like my name should be Sachin. South Asian folks point it out to me all the time. If you don't know, Sachin is a Sanskrit name, and I am visibly not Desi, so people are often confused. People usually ask if I'm named after Sachin Tendulkar, the famous cricket player. And for a period of time my local Indian restaurant thought I was Indian and would give me free rice! Until they found out I wasn't and stopped. Very sad day.

So why am I named Sachin if I'm not Desi?

The name my parents gave me is 十晴. Specifically my dad. My father insisted on naming me. Spent months obsessing over it. But he never gave me an English name. And on the day I was born my dad was…asleep, didn't answer the phone which rang all day, and missed the entire birth. To this day my mother tells this story whenever I miss a phone call. So, when I was born they had no idea what to put on my birth certificate.

The pinyin translation for 十晴 is Shí Qíng. But my mom didn't know pinyin. The lawyer who drew up the paperwork for my birth certificate was Indian, and when he heard 十晴, he said, 'that sounds like Sachin. I'll just put that!' And my mother, tired and alone in the hospital, in a foreign land called Flushing, Queens, said okay. And who can blame her.

And that's how I got my name. In the most arbitrary, accidental way possible. My dad, after months and months of hyper-focusing on a name, fumbled it all right at the end. I wish I could say my name was meaningful in Hànyǔ at least but, my name is very strange to Hànyǔ speakers as well.

The character 十 means 'ten' as in the number 10. And 晴 means 'clear sunny skies.' It's the kind of word a weather reporter will commonly use in the forecast. Honestly, Ten Sunny Skies sounds like a Wǔxiá character. Like Eight Flying Lotuses or Five Poison Fists, or something. Not gunna lie, I prefer this explanation.

So my dad loves to tell this joke…about how his name is too hard to write. It has so many strokes in it that when he was in school taking tests it took him so long to write his name on tests that when he was finished writing it the other students already finished taking the whole test. So, when he has a child he's going to make sure to give them the easiest name with the fewest strokes possible.

And that's where it comes from. Some dinner party joke he liked to tell friends. Thanks dad.

My name has a different meaning to me now as an adult. Over the years many people have heard my name and said, 'Do you know the story of Hòu Yì 后羿?'

An old folktale says there used to be 10 Suns. They would cycle one at a time, because there can never be more than one sun in the sky at the same time. But, one day the suns got lonely, they wanted to see each other and broke the rules. All 10 suns burned at the same time. To stop the suns from burning the entire world down Hòu Yì, the legendary archer, shot the suns out of the sky and left just one, the sun we have today.

It's a fable about doing too much, not thinking about the consequences, and literally burning out. Something I relate to more than I'd like. I burned out hard a few years ago and recovering was a long, painful journey that I never want to repeat.

In the end, the last Sun loses all their siblings and has to carry the burden alone. But, if they'd just had patience and paced themselves, there would still be 10 suns across 'Ten Sunny Skies 十晴.'

[edward-munson]

just for tonight | S.H.

Summary: You and Steve can't stand each other. You always jump at each other's throats whenever you are together. You have set a goal during his birthday party, but you didn't think it would work.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f! reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v (protected sex), oral (m receiving), choking kink, fingering, (sort of) aftercare, a little bit of angst

Word count: 4.6k

-`♡´-

If there's something Steve hates the most besides hating you, it's the fact that Robin insisted you should come to his birthday party. And he insisted it was his birthday, and you would ruin it if you were there. He wasn't wrong, though. You made his life a living hell simply for the fun of it, but he would always make sure he did the same.

And there you were, holding the same scowl on your face as he does. Whenever he had to walk past you in his big apartment, he would try to avoid your gaze, but deep inside he wanted to show you how much he despised your presence. You couldn't give a shit about him, completely ignoring his existence as you were drinking your Piña Colada while talking to Eddie about something random.

At some point, you started to notice how Steve would go back and forth. While you were sitting in the stool of his living room with Robin and Nancy, you would notice he would stand there and huff. Now you try to pretend you're not listening to him as you look straight forward, but your left ear perks up when you listen to what he's saying. He's complaining he has been turned down twice until now. You try to hold back a snort and sip on your drink to avoid that to happen.

Pretty, golden kissed skin, perfect sat hair on his head and muscled Steve Harrington was complaining he was being denied. Twice. You thought your night wasn't going to be good at all, but the sight of him with pouty lips as he talks to his girl friends, it was worth getting out.

You lost count on how many drinks you had, you already smoked weed with Eddie, who drank more beers than he could count as well. Argyle was also in a funny state of drunkenness. You were dancing with both girls too, bumping a few times into each other as the alcohol traveled through your system. You're in a daze as you swing your body to the music, barely keeping your feet steady and Eddie has to hold your waist a few times so you won't fall on your face. You laugh at it all.

You laugh even more when you watch from afar while a girl rips herself from Steve's grip and gives him an apologetic nod, before turning her back to him. He turns his head directly at Robin, who's dancing beside you, and it's enough for him to notice you were watching all of it as well. This time, you snort and cackle. You laugh so hard, there's no reason to hide it. He rolls his eyes and walks towards you, his hands balled into fists as his face holds a scowl again.

"Is it all amusing to you?" His face gets closer to yours, his eyes are kind of blown from the weed he also smoked.

You sipped on your drink, nonchalant, and shrugged. "Well, I just think it's funny how king Steve can't seem to score on his birthday"

Robin tries scolding you with a warning look on her face.

"It's okay, Steve! Someone will like you!" She comforts him with a gentle look. Her hand rubbed his shoulder.

He's actually still shooting daggers at you, mouth closed on a thin line. His chest is kind of puffed because he feels like his body is rigid from his anger.

"You should just stop being such a brat. This is my house. Go find something better to do" He scans you up and down with disdain over his eyes and you just hold your gaze at him.

And you did.

But you never intended to stop looking his way to make sure he wasn't getting a girl. And it's not like there were many options, because it wasn't a big party anyway. You complained to Eddie about the way Steve talked to you, and he laughed it off.

He was being annoying too. He would try at all costs to bump into you whenever he got closer. Steve was trying to get on your nerves just so you could feel what it's like. And when you were left alone for a moment, he would send you this taunting sly smirk. When you were leaving his bathroom, you were caught off guard when his sudden shadow made its presence in the hallway. He passed by you, shoving his shoulder against yours when he made his way to the bedroom.

Back to the living room, when you were all dancing, he made sure he would hit his back against yours, making you stumble forward. It was getting really infuriating. You looked back over your shoulder, just to catch him mouthing a forced "sorry" with another smile. Then something switched inside of you. You weren't getting guys either, but because you didn't want to. So you decided there would be a goal tonight.

You placed both hands over Eddie's shoulders and danced to the music. You swayed your hips to the rhythm, sliding down until you were almost crouched. Your dress rode up a little, showing a little more of your skin. He was flabbergasted to see you dancing like that out of nowhere.

You stood up and kept swinging your hips left and right. Turning on your back to your friend, you couldn't help but notice how Steve's eyes would divert whenever you caught him looking. You smirked. It was working. You then moved to Robin, dancing on your back to her as she placed her hands on your hips, dancing in sync with you. You dropped your head back, leaning against her shoulder, biting your lip.

"Yeah, honey. Whoo!" She gripped your skin through the fabric and grazed your stomach.

You and Robin were always too touchy and sometimes it made people think you had a thing. Steve included. He swallowed the dry lump in his throat, growing impatient as he saw the way she was holding your ribs, fingers touching the curve of your breasts. He tried to focus on his other friends, but it was too hard when you were looking at him that way.

He waved it off, reminding himself why he hated you, why he despised you. He remembered why he didn't invite you even then, you were forced to come because of your friends. But the thought of ripping off the material and sucking on your skin was making him become annoyed.

You were twerking with Robin and Eddie, your ass bouncing to the music. Your hips rolling as your legs are tangled to Eddie's. He doesn't care if you look hot, you're like a sister to him and it's hard for him to actually sexualize you. They knew what you were doing by now. They were catching sight of Steve holding his glass of whisky tightly. Your eyes drifted to him a few times, and your tongue would slip between your fingers in a cocky way. He knew that.

There was no one in the kitchen. You went looking for a beer as the buzz of all the drinks you had was too much now. There were too many empty bottles spread through the sink, along with the bottles of booze. A few snacks were on top of the kitchen island. You were too absorbed into your own thoughts as you ate the food and sipped on your newfound beer. You didn't see when Steve came right behind you.

His frame caged you between the kitchen island, while towering over you. His big hand found your hip and he swung you around, your faces barely touching as your eyes widened. He wasn't scowling, but his brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed.

"What?" You ask in confrontation, his arms leaning against the furniture behind you. "What? You're frustrated no one would fuck you on your birthday?"

Steve didn't answer you, rather, he chuckled with sarcasm. You watched as he shook his head, looking down. When he looked up at you, one of his hands flew up to your face, he was gripping your jawline almost forcefully.

"You know it sounds like you're just jealous, right? It seems to me you wish you were the one I was hitting on".

You laughed at his words, you truly laughed. But you couldn't deny the fact that Steve Harrington was almost God's grace.

"Oh, Stevie. Not even if the world was ending" Your own hand came up to his cheek, where you left a mocking slight slap.

He reacted to that. He truly wished you didn't have to be so bitchy about it. But now it was his time to play your game. His free hand reached for your side, fingers sliding up to your ribs. His thumb stroked your skin through the dress, right under the curve of your breast.

"Are you sure?" He rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His breath hit your skin and it left goosebumps.

The ones you couldn't fucking control. He mused at your reaction. "Yeah. That's what I thought".

Your only plan was to induce him. You didn't think Steve would actually come after you at all. And now you didn't have cards to play against him. And it made him realize he was the one ahead of you this time.

"So now that you have no other options, you come crawling to me?" You spread your hands against his chest, slipping your fingers down his white t-shirt, all while he tightens his fingers around your side.

He has to hold a grunt, because you're so hot and yet adorably annoying. He hates you, yes. But he would never deny fucking you either.

"Now, you wish. Don't pretend you're not enjoying this, pretty girl" His voice is like honey when it reaches your ear.

His fingers are rough on you, but they never hurt you. His expensive cologne is not helping either. And the way his hair falls on his face makes you think you wish you could rake your fingers through them. Your legs almost close in response to the pet name, but he's pushing one of his own legs in between yours. You didn't even notice it.

"Don't be so arrogant. You may be handsome, but you're far from being worth the time".

And you lie. You don't even budge, you don't blink an eye. It makes you realize how good of a liar you are and how bad it would make you look.

But it's not like he doesn't know you well enough to see you're not saying the truth and he laughs again. There's a soft, but still hard look on his face, he pouts at you with a sided smile and tilts his head. You wish you could admit he's not worth it.

"Right. So I won't waste your time" He then leaves your skin, and steps back. You immediately miss his touch. His leg isn't between yours anymore and he gives you another look before going back to the living room.

Steve can't do this anymore. He wished for a long time he would fuck you dumb. Just to hear you say his name. So he slowly retrieves back and turns his footsteps. And he waits, for a moment, but he waits. He's walking away sluggishly from you.

And you watch him walking away. Your heart is pumping faster and your hands are gripping too tight on the edge of the kitchen island. Your knees are wobbly. For a few seconds, you think it's better this way. Maybe you won't work in bed either. Maybe it would be a disaster doing that. But your body aches for him, your stomach burns craving for his touch. You call him out in almost a whisper, but it's enough for him to hear you.

He turns his head first, the corner of his eyes peering at you. "Are you sure?" He barely sees when you just nod, still holding yourself up from all the tension. "Fuck this".

He clings to you in a rush, holding your waist with both hands as he brushes his lips against yours. "Tell me we're not gonna regret this" He breathes out.

"I know I won't" Your arms wrap around his neck, hands finally tangling between his hair.

He needed reassurance, because there was no way he would regret this either. There was a fire growing inside his chest from seeing you this night. Obviously he wished he went to bed with another woman, but there's something about you that pulls him in. He wants to drown in you. His lips finally crashed against yours, for the first seconds it was an intense rush of feelings. You let out a muffled whimper, leaving him desperate to taste more of you.

His tongue slips through your mouth, colliding against yours. He tastes your beer and you taste the bourbon he was having. It's an explosion of lust between you two, finally. Steve lifts one hand and plants it on your neck, his rub stroking your chin. You wouldn't know he was soft after all you've been through. All the bickering, all the mocking. Every time you crossed paths, there was a look of aversion at each other.

You were almost always together. There were times you refused to go out with your friend because he was going too. Or he wouldn't go to someone's house or go out either because you'd be there. It's been like that for almost two years, ever since you saw him making fun of Eddie when he was still a new friend. And you hated that. You started to hate him with a growing avoidance to be near him.

After you started to mistreat him and be ironic most of the time. Until he started to fight back. Eddie was such a sweetheart, he was the one to stop you from fighting. He said it was okay, because then he became friends with Steve. But you never agreed to that and never forgave him either.

Now you were almost turning into a puddle. He kisses like he can't get enough of you. And you battle for dominance with your tongue. You pull the nape of his hair back and he groans. He tugs at you and pushes his hips forward until you feel the bulge straining in his jeans. His thumb slips down your neck as he feels your pulse, and then squeezes your throat lightly. You breathe out against his mouth with a soft moan and he loses it.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me" His voice is hoarse. Steve opens his lids only a few inches just to look at you with lust fulfilling his eyes.

He doesn't waste anymore time as he holds you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. He makes his way to his bedroom, locking the door as he shoves both of you against it. He kisses you again and there's no romance in it. He's impatient and bites your lower lip, pulling it back gently. It's a mix of roughness and softness at the same time. He drops your weight, only to capture your ass with both hands this time. His fingertips graze over the curve of your ass, digging his nails against it.

There's a jolt on your body when he slaps your asscheek. It stings but it doesn't hurt. "You like that, huh?" He chuckles against your mouth and gives your lips a smell peck before slapping you again.

"You're such an arrogant dork" You pull back and use both hands to shove him by his chest until the back of his knees hit his bed.

He watches in awe as you bend down in front of him, small gentle hands undoing his jeans, sliding your fingers against his boxer. You feel the roughness of it, his cock being pressed by the fabric, a damp patch forming around it. You don't need to waste your time with teasing, so you immediately get rid of both at the same time, watching as his hardness springs free. Reddened tip, leaking precum. His length surprised you.

You wrap a hand around his girth, stroking him a few times. You look back at him behind your lashes, his eyes trained at you with such an unreadable expression. He doesn't seem to hate you right now. You see how his chest rises quickly, and you bite your lower lip when you notice how his eyes shut when you stroke him harder. 

Your fingers spread the liquid over his shaft before you finally get to taste him. You lick a stripe from his balls until the tip and put on a show for him. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive spot and open your mouth, sucking on it. Steve throws his head back, leaving a loud growl in reaction. You can't help but hum. You lower your head further down, bobbing it a few times until you're used to his size. You don't think you can deep throat him, but you try your best to get past half of it without gagging. 

His tip hits the back of your throat and he moans. He doesn't care if he's vocal. You use your free hand to rest it over his stomach, fingers grazing his hairs, nails scratching his skin. You use your tongue to lick him through his length, pumping him with your mouth.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, fingers tangling on it. He bucks his hips forward and fucks your mouth. He can't stop whimpering either. You hear your name slipping out of his throat every now and then. You hold his shaft and suck his cock mercilessly, saliva dripping down his skin. You pull back with a pant, looking at him straight in the eyes and he hurriedly pulls you back up. Your mouth is so wet, from the spit, from his precum.

Steve is fast when he swings you around, removing your shoes and throwing them off. He pushes you slowly to the bed so you bend over to him, your ass in the air for him. He plants his palms over your cheeks, stroking them before slapping one and you jolt forward again, leaving a mewl.

"You're such a pretty needy thing, aren't you?" His tone is raspy and it trembles from his sight. Another slap. "Always so pretty. Delicate". Another slap. "It's such a shame we hate each other. Could've had fucked you way before".

You feel his hands lifting the hem of your dress, reaching for your underwear. He rolls it off your legs, getting rid of it before opening your legs apart with one knee. The air gets knocked out of your lungs when he uses his thumb to spread your slit. His finger reaches for your clit and rubs circles around it, making your hips stutter.

"Fuck, Steve" You plead. He collects the wetness of your cunt and uses it as leverage to push into your pussy and you cry out. "Shit".

He's lightheaded, drunk on you. Steve strokes his cock as he pumps his finger inside you a few times. He rubs his thumb up and down, pressing your swollen nub. He hisses whenever you roll your hips against his finger, feeling your slippy skin against his thumb. His cock is almost bursting into a mess and he can't seem to hold it back for too long, but he tries. He picks up a condom from his drawer and rolls the plastic around his shaft.

Still on your fours, you can feel him shifting behind you, positioning himself. His free hand stays on your waist as he uses the other one to rub his dick against your slit. You bite your lip from the obscenities you want to scream.

He pushes his tip first, feeling you clench around him. He takes another second before thrusting against you once, carefully so it won't hurt. You drop your weight forward, whimpering from the sensation.

"Fuck, I'm so big for you" His hips slowly start to hit on your ass. "You okay, pretty?"

You can't formulate an answer so you just nod. Steve could never be this gentle in your head. And yet, there he was, making sure you were good. You heard his own voice proclaiming curses under his breath each time he digs his cock further into your pussy. He starts pounding on you quickly, slapping his skin against yours.

You're both a mess of moans, you can't stand on your elbows and you can't stop rolling your hips against him. He holds your waist with both hands, firmly gripping on your skin.

"Oh God, Steve. That's it. That's so good" You yelp when you feel the tip of his cock hitting you.

His hair is a mess, there's a few strands falling over his eyes as he looks down. He takes his shirt off and throws it away as well, feeling his body on fire. Sweat streamed down his hairy chest, reaching his happy trail.

"You're so fucking good" He praises.

He leans down on you, thrusting harder against your pussy. The new position makes you feel every inch of his cock, his balls slapping against your ass too. Steve carefully wraps one hand around your throat, squeezing it. It's enough for your windpipe to close a bit.

You shut your eyes and your brows crease, voice too strained from pleasure to say anything else. He can only listen to your crying moans.

He licks his lips, moving closer to your ear. "You're such a kinky girl, I see" Steve whispers, his hot breath hitting your skin. You clench around him again and he leaves a groan next to you. "Fuck, do that again".

Now you chuckle, still in a daze. He's still gripping your throat tightly, fingers digging on your neck, straining you. You cage his cock so hard with your pussy, he pushes it all inside of you. He can't move it, and the more you clench around him, the more he feels his pleasure building up.

He pounds hard once, his free hand still holding your waist for support. You throw your head back and roll your eyes. His other hand never leaves your throat. He pushes further again, hips meeting your ass, and you cry. He then decides to pull you up, leaning your back against his chest. You're feeling limp already. His tip hits a different spot inside of you and it makes you roll your hips against him.

Steve rests his head over your shoulder, and he whispers such dirty things for you but you can barely comprehend what he's saying. He's wrapped an arm around you, snapping his hips against you. The other hand slips down your body, cupping one of your breasts. His fingers pinch your hardened nipple, ripping another moan from you.

He loves the way you're falling apart for him, as much as he's glad you're doing the same for him. Even though he would love to see you riding him. He feels your legs wobbling, tension contracting your body. Your muscles are sore and there's a knot forming in your stomach.

He's clinging to you, his sweaty chest is sticking to your back. Now he's not even pounding on you anymore, he's just pushing his cock in a soft motion as he whispers into your ear.

He grazes his teeth between your earlobe and breathes against your skin. You're already clenching so hard, he thinks his cock could snap in half. "Come for me, pretty girl".

Steve spreads wet kisses against your neck, sucking on it as he trails your skin down to your shoulder. You don't want to deal with that right now, you don't want to think how soft he's being to you. There's a coil inside of you and it snaps as you cum on his cock. Your body jolts and trembles over him, legs almost faltering.

You're squirming and clenching around him as he thrusts faster when he feels his orgasm reaching its peak. He usually doesn't cum together with a partner. It's either he waits for them to cum first and he finishes minutes later, or when he's feeling needy he finishes first. But it's hard for something like that to happen.

You're still coming down from your high, he spurts into the condom, feeling his muscles contracting. He never leaves you, he groans from the pleasure over your ear and leaves marks from his fingertips on you.

He gives his final thrust, throwing his head over your shoulder. He's heaving against your back, cock still twitching inside of you. You turn your head to the side where his head is resting and kiss his temple, ripping him from his daydream, catching him off guard.

He painfully pulls back from you, missing your pussy right at the same moment. Steve disappears into his bathroom for a few seconds, walking back and picking up the clothes from the floor. You notice you're completely naked and start wondering when the fuck you got rid of your dress.

You look at Steve. Sweat coating his skin. His hair is wet, as well as his chest and his stomach. His face is flushed and his breathing is still uneven just like yours. He hands you your lace underwear and gets dressed up. You're still peering at him from the corner of your eye, watching the way he tries to fix his greasy sweaty hair with his fingers, only making you feel giddy about it.

But it surprises you when he hands out a comb for you to brush your hair. Your head immediately snapping at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. He clears his throat when he notices your reaction, sitting on his bed close to you.

"I uh– Maybe we should, you know" He gestures with his fingers, but it's unclear to you what he wants.

And you giggle, tilting your head at him. "Are you getting shy on me, Steve Harrington?"

But he waves you off, pretending he doesn't know what you're talking about. It's kind of a strange feeling to be around him without jumping at each other's throats, but at the same time, it's a good thing.

"I meant, we should talk it off. You know, hating each other. I know you never bothered to show how much you hate me because of Eddie. And I know I was a dick" Steve never even tried to apologize to you before, knowing you were never open to it.

"Let's not get through this tonight, we should try to have fun on your birthday. See if you can actually score".

He chuckles when you finish your sentence, knowing there would be no way he would fuck someone else this night. Not even if he wanted to. "So... we're kinda good tonight?"

You look down at his hand that is expectantly waiting for you to shake it. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea after all. "Yeah, kinda. Just for tonight".

He shakes your hand as well, flicking his eyes between your hand and your lips. God, he wanted to kiss you again. You both get up from the bed and fix your clothes before leaving the bedroom, but when you're holding the doorknob, you feel his hand wrapping around your wrist carefully.

You look to your side, to the way he's facing you in a different way. His hand slips to yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, and he pulls you closer to him. You just let him. He holds your jawline with his free hand and hovers his lips against yours lips.

"Just... let me do it one more time tonight" And he kisses you, soft tongue colliding against yours again.

There's something conflicting inside of him. Like his feelings are battling against his mind. Because to him, there was no way he was starting to have emotions towards you.

Not now, not ever.

He breaks the kiss, and when he opens his eyes he realizes something. He was fucked.

[secondbeatsongs]

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

 now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

 I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

[qqueenofhades]

been seeing some responses to the many many lawsuits and other actions taken against trumpet and munkfruit that fall along the lines of "this isn't enough, it's already too late, you can't fight fascism with the law, we're all gonna die." i understand the fear, truly, but i'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as to me it seems like this sort of behavior/posting doesn't do much beyond embolden the narrative that everyone actually likes these bastards and they're too powerful to be stopped.

Welp. This is the kind of question that requires me to write a long and complex sociopolitical/critical/historical/Discourse-esque analysis that will take a while and which I am trying to do only selectively, but I'm at home on Saturday morning, I don't have anything else to do right now, and it does present me an opportunity to address some things I've been thinking about. So. We'll give it a shot.

The first thing that has struck me is that in a few short weeks, we're getting a sharp empirical disproving of two common online-leftist fallacies: one, the old "both parties are exactly the same" chestnut, and two, "the only resistance that matters is Violent Glorious Revolution" (which somehow and conveniently never happens). We had months and months of "Biden is just as bad as Trump!!!" being spread as gospel truth in online-leftist circles, and then when Harris took over, it switched just as seamlessly into "Harris is just as bad as [or even worse than] Trump!" Now, as I have said before, there were plenty of legitimate criticisms to make of Biden, particularly the Gaza policy (upon which Harris notably differed). But it's quite telling that the keyboard warriors who spent all of last year howling for The Righteous Punishment of Biden-Harris (regardless that the obvious ancillary consequence was letting Trump come to power) have either disappeared completely when it comes to dealing with the results of that rhetoric, or have switched to "everything is doomed so I guess we shouldn't bother anyway." Like. Trump is now proposing to fully ethnically cleanse Gaza and either blithely hand it over to Israel or build Jared Kushner Beachfront Resort Disneyworld, and what do we hear in protest? For the most part, crickets. These are not serious people. Their opposition is not morally consistent, and it only depends on how they can make themselves look good. I thought that Trump was somehow supposed to be magically better than Biden particularly on the Gaza issue, and that was why it was worth letting him get elected? Or something? Something!?!

I'm curious as to whether those people still legitimately think that Harris would have spent her first few weeks in office dismantling USAID, signing weekly anti-trans executive orders, unleashing ICE across the country and terrorizing immigrant communities, putting the Project 2025 guy in charge of the Office of Management and Budget, letting Elon Musk run rampant with Treasury data, nominating the likes of RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard to Cabinet posts, trying to freeze all federal funding, stripping DEI initiatives, dismantle the Department of Education -- etc. etc. The thing is, as ghoulish as it is, none of this is a surprise, because it is literally what Trump and his people spent the entire presidential campaign loudly, openly, and repeatedly promising to do. However awful they were and are, they were not remotely secret about their intentions. That information was out in the open every time they opened their mouths. But too many people didn't pay attention, rationalized it away, decided that "he won't actually do that" (despite the fact that he launched a literal violent coup attempt on the Capitol the last time he was in office), or just made up their minds that Trump Will Reduce Grocery Prices and refused to listen to any information that countered that view. What do we get now? Trump laughing off the grocery-prices issue and insisting that it's "not a priority" and Musk managing to claim that the real problem is government spending, not corporate greed. Again, this was completely predictable, because y'all got willingly suckered. It was not hard to see it coming.

That said: if the Glorious Online Leftist Revolution is still coming, and by some lights we might now legitimately need it, where the fuck is it? Are they still out there banging the drum against Trump and his "let's ethnically cleanse Gaza" policy and anything else that they insisted, they swore up and down, was functionally equivalent or possibly even marginally better than Biden-Harris getting another term? No. They're either dead silent, offering weak excuses, or completely giving into "we're doomed there's no point fighting back through weak shitlib institutions that are obviously terrible and will fail" blubbering that makes no fucking sense. One, because they move the goalposts so constantly that there's not even any attempt to reckon with the last effects of their damaging bullshit, and two? As I said, where's the fucking Revolution magically coming to save us and install a perfect leftist utopia (which is never how revolutions have ever worked) and sweep away Government Tyranny? Is that only for when a Democrat is in office and you can have confidence that the government is not going to come after you in the middle of the night for talking about it? Now that there's an actual fascist in power, it's somehow too hard to resist at all, even in small, institutional, and everyday ways that are often far more effective at practically confounding the bad stuff instead of empty and useless online echo chambers, so guess we should all just give up??!

Fuck. That.

This is also why we have to talk about the catastrophic lack of information literacy and critical thinking skills in young leftist spaces. A good example is the recent migration of TikTok users to the Chinese app RedNote. It was sweet for a little while as there was cultural exchange and friendship and memes. But then, predictably, it dove hard into "ah, once again The Evil US Government Has Lied To Us and there are no problems at all in China!" I have seen posts float by on my dash that unironically claim this is the case and China is truly great and Americans should want to move there and clearly all that business about authoritarian control and mass repression was just a ruse by, again, The Evil US Government. If you are so utterly devoid of basic information literacy and research abilities that your standard of proof for "is the Chinese government repressively authoritarian and totalitarian" is "a random Chinese person on an app in a country where the Internet is viciously controlled and voicing the slightest criticism can make you disappear told me that it isn't," then for Christ's fucking sake, you need help. For one, it wasn't just the US government saying this. It was, y'know, Chinese dissidents, the entire nation of Taiwan, historians, academics, researchers, the Uyghur Muslims of Xinjiang, etc etc. If your only standard for believing or supporting anything is "the opposite of what the US government thinks," then you are perfect targets for authoritarianism. Hey, a person living under an authoritarian regime who will punish them if they speak out against it told me everything was fine! Clearly there's nothing to worry about and we should want it here in America!

Come on. Come on.

This is also the case because uneducated young leftists like to unironically label themselves "communists" or "Marxist-Leninists" as if it's cool and hip and has never been involved in anything problematic in all of history, so anything that calls itself that must be supported. Shoutout to the idiot in my notes recently who reblogged a several-year-old post just to shout at me about how historical communists NEVER worked with or collaborated with fascists, because something something The Communists Were The Pure Shining Good Guys! (Uh, nobody tell them about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) Clearly, the Chinese Communist Party is good and beneficial, end of story, no more criticism or caution needed! Obviously, yes, official American policy toward China has often been driven by basic Sinophobia, and the determination that nobody can change American hegemony or unipolarity or its ability to call the shots how it pleases. But if that is the literally only criteria you're using, then yeah. If you're so unaware that "the Chinese people are ordinary human beings" and "the Chinese government is repressive and authoritarian" are statements that can and in fact do coexist, then apparently you've missed the situation you're in right now, where "the American people are ordinary human beings" and "the American government is repressive and authoritarian" is also the case. Because online leftism is essentially devoid of a consistent moral principle and will just blithely switch up to support Bad Things as long as they're being done by governments with the correct ideological label, here we are.

Anyway. This is getting long, but the main takeaway is that the "all resistance against Trump is doomed and I guess we just gotta die :(" line is now, somehow, often coming from the same people who were constantly yelling that the only hope was a Glorious Revolution against Biden-Harris, and it is somehow even stupider. So you'll trumpet about Gloriously Overthrowing The Government all the day long as long as a Democrat is in office, but the instant a Republican gets in there instead and starts acting like an actual fascist, welp, time to just shut up and accept our doom and not even bother to struggle? Please tell me how any of that makes sense. Especially when actively confounding the Trump/Musk Axis of Evil is already working. There is also the fact that the establishment-media types are supporting this narrative for reasons of their own; witness the fact that the entire US corporate media is owned by oligarchs who hastened to bend the knee and pledge fealty to Trump 2.0. They obviously also have a reason for inculcating hopelessness in you, and that the only recourse is to shut up, accept it, and let them continue to rob you blind. Because American democracy will never matter as much as money, power, and control for the Billionaire Bros.

The point is: this is a bad-faith narrative on all sides. Whether it's coming from the online leftists in their latest head-spinningly hypocritical volte-face, the oligarch-owned corporate media that wants to feed you constant Bad News to keep you clicking and worried and distracted and unable to resist, the Trumpist power that wants people to quit making this pesky stink about all their authoritarian fascist adventures, or anyone else. There is nobody who has your best interests at heart if they are telling you that everything is doomed and the only thing to do is lie down and take it. There is no logical reason you should listen to them. Go forth and keep resisting, in whatever way presents itself. Those cumulative small actions are far more effective than any Splendid Revolution that never, ever materializes, while the people who preach it just sit back and whine about how things are so bad now so clearly they couldn't. Shut up.

It is always important. It always matters. It will make a difference.

Courage, etc.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

🔥🖤𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑾𝒉𝒐 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒍 𝑶𝒏 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 🔥🖤

💌Welcome to 7 Days, 7 Posts! In honor of Valentine’s Day on February 14th, I’m releasing seven blog posts dedicated to love, intimacy, passion, and everything that ignites the flames. Join me on this journey as I share my insights on astrological placements that spark attraction, create chemistry, and merge souls.

If you enjoy my content, be sure to follow me, explore my other posts, and check out my paid services! 💌

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 💗 Sagittarius Moon

Before Venus in Aries comes into play, the Sagittarius Moon captivates them because they’re always somewhere the Venus in Aries is not. When they finally see them in a position where they are, it feels like they’ve caught someone who is always running away. Aries loves nothing more than a playful challenge to see how far they can go to get the person they truly want. The Sagittarius Moon satisfies this, giving them the feeling of having someone they thought they couldn’t get—but now, they have them.

The Sagittarius Moon doesn’t like being caught, so while they give Venus in Aries attention, they continue on with their own life. The Sagittarius Moon doesn’t get caught up in Aries Venus’s attention, and Aries Venus likes this because it feels like a temptation. It’s like a piece of meat hanging in front of them that they want to devour. But just as they’re about to “eat,” the meat disappears, and now they have to chase after it again. This is why Venus in Aries is drawn to the Sagittarius Moon.

The Sagittarius Moon can’t be bogged down or easily bothered. They’re strong and powerful, which makes Aries Venus feel like they’ve met someone who not only challenges them but also won’t cave in or fall for them so easily. The Sagittarius Moon is someone who’s busy, with a full life and other things to tend to, and they make it clear they don’t have time just for one person. This intrigues Venus in Aries, who values independence. As a result, Aries Venus becomes more intrigued, excited, and motivated to pursue them.

For Venus in Aries, the best match in moon signs is the Sagittarius Moon. The Sagittarius Moon enjoys the chase just as much, finding it fun and exhilarating. They appreciate the passion and drive Venus in Aries brings, as it adds an exciting dynamic to their relationship.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 💖 Taurus Moon

Venus in Taurus loves the Taurus Moon for many reasons. Both Venus in Taurus and the Taurus Moon are slow-paced when it comes to relationships. They don’t like to rush things because they feel that moving too fast ruins the whole experience. They each have a plot in mind, and Taurus Venus wants to follow this plot. Taurus Moon gracefully goes along with it because they also don’t want to rush. They understand that rushing into a relationship doesn’t allow those deep, gooey romantic feelings to develop.

This combination works so well because Taurus Venus wants to take things slow. Even on the first date, they just want to genuinely get to know each other. Taurus Moon, in turn, is focused on seeing if Taurus Venus is stable and consistent. While Taurus Venus is getting a sense of Taurus Moon’s calmness and chill nature, Taurus Moon is evaluating Taurus Venus’s stability. This dynamic excites Taurus Venus because, while they love romance, they crave a romance that feels stable and enduring. They seek a lasting commitment, not just a fleeting romance. And Taurus Moon fulfills all of those desires.

Whenever Taurus Venus wants to be sensually pleased, when their five senses are aroused, Taurus Moon is there to provide. When Taurus Venus wants a hug or simply wants to be held, Taurus Moon is ready to embrace them. If Taurus Venus wants to go out to dinner, with a candle in the middle of the table and the two of them looking into each other’s eyes, Taurus Moon is happy to make this happen. And if Taurus Venus needs more time to think about a commitment but wants to express how much they care, Taurus Moon understands because they are in no rush. For Taurus Moon, slow and steady wins the race.

This combination is one where Taurus Venus feels like they’ve found someone who wants the same kind of romance. They meet someone who isn’t too intense or overly eager, but someone who helps them relax and feels profoundly romantic. Taurus Venus is satisfied because they’ve found someone who shares their desire for a lasting, nurturing romance. After a date with Taurus Moon, Taurus Venus will feel fulfilled, and Taurus Moon will want to share good food, watch the sunset, hold hands, and caress each other. It’s a sweet, gooey, beautiful romance.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖦𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 💖 𝖫𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Gemini falls for the Libra Moon because Venus in Gemini seeks more than just a fun time. For them, a good time is not simply about going to places that are fun, but about engaging with the right people—those who satisfy them, bring stimulating conversations, spark new ideas, and offer fresh connections. Libra Moon, a natural socialite, is always out and about, showing up at events and seeking new connections, often without even realizing it. This creates the perfect space for Venus in Gemini to engage. They’re always ready to talk and initiate a conversation, and Libra Moon is flattered by this attention.

Libra Moon loves when people take an interest in them, and Venus in Gemini certainly does. There are several things that Venus in Gemini finds appealing about Libra Moon. First, Libra Moon is classy, exuding elegance and charm. They carry themselves well and always look put together, attracting attention with their physical presence. But it’s not just their appearance that draws Gemini in—Libra Moon also has the ability to engage in meaningful conversation. When Gemini Venus brings up a topic, Libra Moon quickly finds a way to connect with it, and once they do, they begin to speak, sharing their thoughts and insights.

Libra Moon, being an air sign, is communicative, logical, and intellectual, which makes them a perfect match for Venus in Gemini. Their conversation becomes a dynamic exchange, with both of them feeding off each other’s energy. Libra Moon can keep up with Gemini’s shifting topics, finding ways to relate to everything that Gemini says. Gemini, in turn, finds themselves relating to Libra’s responses. As the conversation deepens, both start to realize they share similar ideals, which enhances their connection.

Libra Moon is flattered by the attention, and Gemini Venus is fascinated by Libra’s ability to keep pace. Libra doesn’t just reply in passing; they engage deeply and thoughtfully, never dry or dismissive. This combination creates a fascinating, thrilling, and intellectually stimulating conversation that satisfies both of them. Unconsciously, they gravitate toward each other, drawn by their shared desire for meaningful interaction, mutual interest, and intellectual connection.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 💖 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Cancer is enthralled when they meet the Taurus Moon. Venus in Cancer loves nothing more than being at home, relaxing, and unwinding—kicking their feet up and not doing too much. They need calmness and relaxation and can’t handle the hustle and bustle of life. After a long day, they enjoy winding down with a beautiful candle, a delicious meal, and something that occupies and entertains them until they drift off to sleep. The Taurus Moon is the perfect match for this, as they want nothing more than to do exactly what Venus in Cancer enjoys: kick up their feet, savor a drink they enjoy, eat a good meal, and relax with some form of entertainment.

They vibrate on the same level, and neither can escape the other. Venus in Cancer recognizes the Taurus Moon, and the Taurus Moon recognizes Venus in Cancer. When they meet, there’s an immediate attraction. They both bring warmth, comfort, and coziness, and the connection feels natural. There’s a familiarity between them that doesn’t create a gap but rather an energetic pull towards each other.

Taurus Moon is deeply engaged with Venus in Cancer because Cancer Venus takes its time. They’re like a slow cooker—patiently and lovingly cooking something beautiful and aromatic. The Taurus Moon is eager to savor what Cancer Venus has to offer, and the feeling is mutual. Cancer Venus appreciates that the Taurus Moon is grounded and calm. Sometimes, Cancer Venus can get overwhelmed by intense emotions, but being around the steady and composed Taurus Moon helps them stay grounded. Taurus Moon’s calm demeanor helps Cancer Venus find balance.

This is a relationship where they’re both in the kitchen, baking cookies and pies, and at the end of the day, they enjoy the fruits of their labor together—talking and sharing words of affirmation. Cancer Venus is nurturing, always checking in and caring for Taurus Moon, and Taurus Moon reciprocates this nurturing energy. It’s a balanced and harmonious connection. When they’re together, it feels like it was always meant to be. Venus in Cancer loves the Taurus Moon, and Taurus Moon is devoted to Cancer Venus. Cancer Venus values loyalty, and Taurus Moon is loyal and committed. This is truly a harmonious and fulfilling connection.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝖾𝗈 💖 𝖫𝖾𝗈 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

The Leo Venus and Leo Moon—talk about the stars of the show, the couple that constantly entertains everyone. The one people refer to as “couple goals.” Leo Venus loves the Leo Moon because their energy is magnetic; it pulls them in effortlessly. Both are bold lovers who don’t hold back—they dive in headfirst and assert themselves with ease, thanks to their charisma and charm. Together, they hook and reel each other in.

Leo Venus loves to have fun. They are light-hearted and seek excitement. They’re drawn to the Leo Moon, who is more reserved with their attention and boldness, but that quietness is loud to Leo Venus. They see the power in the Leo Moon before even speaking to them. Leo Venus is captivated by how the Leo Moon expresses itself, and at times, the Leo Moon’s creative expression inspires the Leo Venus. This relationship is truly inspirational, with both individuals exchanging ideas and feeding off each other’s energy.

Passionate about keeping the fire alive, they ensure there is never a dull moment. They keep each other on their toes, constantly laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Both are confident and self-assured, so neither doubts that the other has something valuable to bring into their life. When together, they smile, blush, and can’t help but radiate joy. There’s a natural, effortless entertainment between them—it’s constant stimulation, exactly what Leo Venus desires. They thrive on excitement and refuse to tolerate boredom.

Leo Moon is warm and friendly, so when they interact with people Leo Venus cares about, they ensure their presence resonates well with Leo Venus. They understand each other deeply. Both crave attention, love being the center of the spotlight, and want to feel unique and special. They give each other this feeling constantly, stroking each other’s egos like a never-ending ping-pong game of compliments. This infectious energy only strengthens their bond.

Leo Venus loves being around Leo Moon because Leo Moon’s confidence elevates their own, making them feel even more secure in the connection. Their energy bounces off each other effortlessly. Both value loyalty immensely. Initially, they focus on fun, relaxed, and enjoyable moments, but over time, their bond deepens. Once they truly lock in, their loyalty is unbreakable—a bond as secure as a locked safe, one that can last a lifetime.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖵𝗂𝗋𝗀𝗈 💖 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Virgo is hard to please, let’s admit it. Venus in Virgo has high standards and isn’t going to settle for the bare minimum. This is where Capricorn Moon steps in and really reels in the Virgo Venus, because Capricorn Moon has high standards of their own—standards that are far from ordinary. Their standards are higher than a basketball player’s jump, higher than a skyscraper, even higher than an airplane—out of this galaxy. Capricorn Moon doesn’t back down from the fact that they need to work hard in life and produce results. They know that life requires seriousness, and Virgo Venus loves this about them. They admire Capricorn Moon’s ambition, drive, and determination to succeed. Capricorn Moon wants the finer things in life, and Virgo Venus enjoys those things as well. Being with Capricorn Moon feels like not only will Virgo Venus enjoy a life of luxury, but that Capricorn Moon itself is one of those finer things because they look so good and draw them in with their tantalizing image.

Virgo Venus doesn’t find much to criticize about Capricorn Moon, because Capricorn Moon isn’t overtly expressive with their emotions. They remain calm, chill, and seemingly unshakable, and Virgo Venus feels like they’ve found a stable partner who can bring order into their life rather than chaos. This is exactly what Virgo Venus craves. What Capricorn Moon appreciates about Virgo Venus is that they take their time. Virgo Venus isn’t in a rush, so Capricorn Moon doesn’t feel pressured to fall in love quickly. They prefer a slow simmer to a boil, and Virgo Venus is on the same wavelength. Virgo Venus needs time to vet someone and ensure they are the right person. Capricorn Moon is always willing to prove themselves, surpassing Virgo Venus’s expectations. They are determined to succeed in this lifetime, and their persistence makes Virgo Venus take notice.

Capricorn Moon also respects Virgo Venus’s need for space. Virgo Venus is busy—they have work to do, responsibilities to handle, and a life outside of their relationship. Capricorn Moon understands this and focuses on their own work, handling their business without distraction. Virgo Venus appreciates the stability Capricorn Moon provides, as well as their ambition and success. The glamour of Capricorn Moon is something Virgo Venus admires, just as Capricorn Moon is drawn to the clean, refined aesthetic of Virgo Venus. They both love looking good, and together, they make an aesthetically pleasing couple. Neither one of them thrives in chaos; they both prefer to keep their heads level and grounded.

Moreover, Virgo Venus will perfect things that Capricorn Moon may overlook. Capricorn Moon has blind spots, but they will encourage Virgo Venus to keep going, especially when Virgo Venus wants to give up. Capricorn Moon believes in hard work, perseverance, and time—and they help Virgo Venus understand that success is attainable with these qualities. Their relationship is deeply supportive and encouraging. Acts of service come naturally, and things tend to manifest faster when they are together. Virgo Venus and Capricorn Moon help each other achieve goals that may have been difficult to attain on their own, making their partnership a powerful and fulfilling one.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺 💖 𝖫𝖾𝗈 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

The Libra Venus is absolutely captivated by the Leo Moon. For Libra Venus, love is everything. They just want to exist in love, to be enveloped in it. Leo, with its charming, romantic, and affectionate energy, is the perfect match for Libra. And just like Libra, Leo is deeply in love with love. However, Leo Moon keeps it cool and collected. They play it calm, quietly confident, while engaging in a pleasant conversation with Libra Venus.

As Libra Venus slowly falls for the Leo Moon’s charm, they’re drawn in not just by the words, but by Leo Moon’s entire aura. Leo Moon’s charm is magnetic because they don’t even need to say much. It’s in the way they look, their facial expressions, their body language—everything they do exudes an irresistible pull. Libra Venus is captivated, idealizing Leo Moon, who lives up to these expectations every time. When Leo Moon steps out, they always look and smell incredible, and Libra Venus can’t get enough. It’s like they’re chasing after Leo Moon, convinced that they’re the perfect person for them.

On top of that, Libra Venus values loyalty, and Leo Moon is a person who embodies it. They’re devoted to their friends, family, and loved ones, which resonates deeply with Libra Venus. To them, Leo Moon isn’t just a good person—they’re a loyal person, someone who they could be committed to for the long haul. Libra Venus loves being around Leo Moon, and when they’re in the same room, the energy between them is electric. Libra Venus is eager to talk, to connect, and to relate to Leo Moon. They ask the right questions, the kind of questions that pique Leo Moon’s interest.

Leo Moon appreciates this because they love being the center of attention, especially when it comes from someone they’re drawn to. As they talk, they put themselves in the spotlight, and Libra Venus is absorbing it all, enchanted by Leo Moon’s confidence. Libra Venus feels like they’ve found someone who not only they can fall in love with, but who is also knowledgeable, confident, and about their business.

Libra Venus becomes obsessed. They’re constantly thinking about Leo Moon, wanting to call them, wanting to talk to them, always wondering what Leo Moon is doing. Leo Moon loves to go out and have fun, and Libra Venus wants the same. This is a couple that knows how to have fun. They listen to the same music, share the same playlists, and always snap pictures together. They’re the couple that charms everyone around them, and people can’t help but be drawn to their magnetic energy. They’re the type of couple where you’d happily be a part of their world—maybe even a throuple. Their connection keeps each other yearning for more, and their aesthetic is undeniable. Whenever they step out, they turn heads. They’re the couple everyone envies, the couple that always looks stunning, and everyone wants a piece of.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖲𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗂𝗈 💖 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Scorpio’s best moon match is Capricorn Moon. Venus in Scorpio is fierce. They aren’t looking for ordinary love—they don’t want someone who stands out with boldness and obvious displays of affection. While Venus in Scorpio can be bold internally, they tend to be more reserved, preferring mystery and subtlety, which is exactly what draws them to Capricorn Moon. Capricorn Moon is quiet, reserved, and observant, much like Venus in Scorpio. Both are naturally introspective, watching the world around them, and when their eyes meet, they instantly recognize something deep beneath the surface. There’s an intensity between them, raw and untouchable, yet undeniable. It’s not something tangible but something energetic that binds them.

Venus in Scorpio is drawn to Capricorn Moon’s quiet nature. They love the fact that Capricorn Moon is reserved and not loud or showy, which mirrors their own preference for keeping things low-key and out of the spotlight. They don’t want anything overt or flashy; they want subtlety, and Capricorn Moon provides just that. Similarly, Capricorn Moon is intrigued by Venus in Scorpio because Scorpio doesn’t seek attention or validation. Capricorn senses that Scorpio holds power, but it’s a type of power that can only be unlocked through trust and patience. Capricorn enjoys the challenge of unraveling this mystery, and Scorpio’s reluctance to reveal themselves only adds to their intrigue.

For Venus in Scorpio, building trust and loyalty is essential, and Capricorn Moon understands that. Capricorn doesn’t rush things. They take their time, allowing the connection to grow slowly and steadily. This pacing works well for Venus in Scorpio, who can develop their trust in Capricorn Moon without feeling rushed. Capricorn Moon is emotionally steady, like a hard rock, and even when Venus in Scorpio is going through a difficult time, Capricorn Moon doesn’t need to be constantly affectionate or present. They understand that Venus in Scorpio may need space to process emotions, and that’s something Venus in Scorpio deeply appreciates. It allows them to internalize their feelings without fear that the connection will falter.

This is a relationship built on deep, dark energy. Both partners are intense, and when they come together, the passion between them is undeniable. Over time, the relationship blossoms into something profound: intimate, loyal, and fiercely devoted. The loyalty between them is unshakeable. They are determined to make the relationship work, putting in the effort and energy to build something lasting. Venus in Scorpio brings intense passion, loyalty, and determination, while Capricorn Moon offers unwavering devotion, stability, and an unbreakable bond. This couple is like Bonnie and Clyde—ride or die. They are always by each other’s side, committed to one another above all else.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖲𝖺𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 💖 𝖠𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Sagittarius Venus and Aquarius Moon make a fascinating pairing. When we talk about the Aquarius Moon being ice, the Sagittarius Venus is the water that slowly melts it. Sagittarius Venus is a boss, not one to play around, and Aquarius Moon is equally a boss. They both stand firm in their beliefs, having shaped them over time through experience and intellect. Neither of them is willing to compromise on these core values, which makes them both powerful and independent individuals.

Sagittarius Venus sees in Aquarius Moon someone deeply intellectual and stimulating. Conversations with Aquarius are engaging and can make time fly. An hour feels like ten minutes when Sagittarius Venus is talking to Aquarius Moon. On the other hand, Aquarius Moon is captivated by the larger-than-life energy of Sagittarius Venus. Every word Sagittarius Venus speaks is infused with excitement and comes with a story. Aquarius Moon loves to listen because Sagittarius Venus has lived a full, adventurous life—nothing about them is boring. The energy is mutual: Sagittarius Venus is always learning something new from Aquarius Moon, satisfying their curiosity.

Aquarius Moon, in return, enjoys the space they get when Sagittarius Venus moves on to their next adventure. Sagittarius Venus is constantly chasing the next discovery or solving problems, so they don’t mind taking a step back from Aquarius Moon. Aquarius Moon appreciates this freedom because it gives them the time they need to pursue their own interests. They aren’t bothered that Sagittarius Venus is off doing their own thing; in fact, they find it refreshing. The next time they meet, they have a wealth of new stories to share, and Sagittarius Venus is amazed by how much Aquarius Moon can experience in such a short time.

Both signs are open-minded and adventurous, constantly pushing the boundaries of their usual routines. Sagittarius Venus invites Aquarius Moon on new adventures, and Aquarius Moon is more than happy to break free from their routine to join in. Both are unconventional, disliking being put into boxes, and they refuse to confine each other to one. They each want freedom, and they respect that in one another.

Their relationship doesn’t start off in the traditional romantic sense; instead, it begins with basic camaraderie, mutual respect, and a shared curiosity to get to know each other. They both value their independence, and they never fully lose it in the relationship. Instead, they merge in a way that allows both to maintain their individuality.

What intrigues them most is their differing perspectives: Sagittarius Venus is philosophical and intellectual in the way they approach life, while Aquarius Moon is intellectual in how they think and express their ideas. Both are idealistic and future-oriented, which creates a natural connection as they discuss their visions for the future together.

This relationship is built on a love that merges the two people while keeping their independence intact. It’s a love that stimulates both mentally, keeps them curious, and allows them to grow together through new experiences. Change isn’t difficult for either of them—Sagittarius, as a mutable sign, craves it, and Aquarius Moon eventually needs it. This dynamic keeps their bond fresh and exciting. Together, they’re a perfect match—this is a relationship that is both stimulating and deeply satisfying for both individuals.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖢𝖺𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 💖 𝖳𝖺𝗎𝗋𝗎𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Venus in Capricorn falls in love with the Taurus Moon, and together, they embody a classic, demure approach to life. Both prefer tradition and stability, avoiding anything rough or unconventional. They value tried-and-true methods, understanding that hard work and persistence are key to success. This is a couple that rises from humble beginnings to achieve great things. Over time, they manifest their dreams and buy the mansion they had their eye on a decade ago, now living in the life they envisioned.

Venus in Capricorn is determined and goal-oriented. They are a dominant sign and want to take control and make moves. Taurus Moon, more receptive and feminine, appreciates this. Taurus Moon enjoys being courted and wined and dined; they move slowly, as does Capricorn Venus. Neither moves fast, but both know that their steady pace will ultimately lead to success. They understand the importance of patience in the journey, knowing that they will eventually win the race because they are committed to reaching the end.

Capricorn Venus is drawn to the way Taurus Moon presents themselves—refined, elegant, and classy. Taurus Moon prefers simplicity, looking good without overdoing it. Their approach is natural and understated, which resonates deeply with Capricorn Venus. Capricorn Venus appreciates this simplicity, absorbing it and falling in love with it. They find comfort in the grounded and steady nature of Taurus Moon.

Both value hard work. Capricorn Venus is driven to succeed and build wealth in this lifetime, while Taurus Moon also seeks stability and the comfort of knowing their efforts will pay off. Taurus Moon admires Capricorn Venus’s ambition, which motivates them to push past their own comfort zone and achieve more. Together, they combine Capricorn Venus’s vision with Taurus Moon’s creativity, blending practicality and hard work to make their dreams a reality.

This couple creates a beautiful, successful life together. Their home is a reflection of their achievements, and they are supportive of one another. Working together as a team comes naturally. Capricorn Venus will take the lead when necessary, and Taurus Moon, ever receptive, listens and acts accordingly. Taurus Moon appreciates that Capricorn Venus is working hard to provide a comfortable life, while also maintaining balance. Capricorn Venus respects that Taurus Moon doesn’t overreact and remains steady, even when life is challenging. Taurus Moon is calm, asking the right questions and offering quiet support.

Their love is steady and enduring. Venus in Capricorn values the slow, deliberate pace of their relationship, while Taurus Moon brings sensuality and patience. Capricorn Venus is attentive, learning the body of Taurus Moon to bring them pleasure. In return, Taurus Moon feels supported and valued, allowing their connection to deepen. Their communication is clear and focused on getting to the heart of matters. Both appreciate tangible expressions of love, such as thoughtful gifts, and they reciprocate these gestures with ease.

This is a reciprocal relationship where both partners help each other grow and achieve their goals. It’s a romance for a lifetime, built on mutual respect and a shared vision of success. Over time, Taurus Moon enjoys a more relaxed, subtle life, where they can savor the rewards of their labor, while Capricorn Venus remains ever-vigilant for opportunities to further elevate their lives together. This is a love that evolves and strengthens with time, a partnership that will stand the test of time.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖠𝗊𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗎𝗌 💖 𝖦𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

As I mentioned in previous posts, Venus in Aquarius is ice-cold, like a block of ice that needs something to warm it up and melt it, allowing it to merge and unify with another person. And who does that? Gemini Moon. Gemini Moon has the ability to talk Aquarius Venus into warmth because Gemini Moon is persuasive. While Aquarius Venus may be fixed in its ways, Gemini Moon’s charm and suaveness can easily convince Aquarius Venus that they indeed need Gemini Moon.

This connection is instant because their minds connect first, before anything else. Aquarius Venus notices Gemini Moon’s wandering mind and sees them as a thinker—ready to engage and talk. Aquarius Venus, who is constantly deep in thought about the future, dreams, goals, and visions, is equally perceptive and always observing the world around them. Both Gemini and Aquarius share this observational nature, trying to figure out who they want to engage with and how to navigate the world. Aquarius Venus tends to be more standoffish, not easily engaging with others, but when Gemini Moon approaches, it sparks something.

Gemini Moon doesn’t hesitate to jump in, and Aquarius Venus respects that. Aquarius, cold by nature, needs someone to warm them up, and Gemini Moon doesn’t mind. There’s no pride or shame—Gemini Moon naturally has charisma, and their words flow effortlessly. They can talk about one subject and seamlessly transition to another, which entices Aquarius Venus, drawing them in deeper.

Gemini Moon is flexible and mutable, allowing Aquarius Venus’s fixed beliefs and ideas about life to take center stage. Aquarius Venus can set the tone for the conversation, and Gemini Moon will adapt, discussing future possibilities in technology or whatever else Aquarius Venus wants to explore. Both are future-oriented and problem-solvers, thinking quickly and efficiently. While Aquarius Venus has a quirky, unconventional way of thinking, Gemini Moon is versatile, constantly shifting between different thoughts. Together, they bring a refreshing and stimulating dynamic to each other’s minds.

Both enjoy socializing, and Aquarius Venus might want to hang out with friends or engage in other activities. Gemini Moon isn’t bothered by this—they either want to join Aquarius Venus or have their own plans with other people. There’s no need for 24/7 companionship, which allows Aquarius Venus to retreat into their coldness, maintaining their individuality. Gemini Moon also values independence and wants to be on the go, exploring intellectual curiosities and connecting with others. This freedom to explore their own interests and build new relationships allows both to thrive.

Gemini Moon gets bored easily, but Aquarius Venus offers something uniquely intriguing. Aquarius Venus remains difficult to figure out, and for Gemini Moon, solving the mystery of this ice-cold block is like slowly learning how to melt it and reach the heart of Aquarius Venus. This constant intrigue keeps Gemini Moon engaged.

The combination of Uranus (Aquarius’s ruling planet) and Mercury (Gemini’s ruling planet) creates a smart, powerful couple. This is an intelligent duo that constantly bounces ideas off each other, curating visions of the future. Together, they solve problems efficiently and quickly, often predicting trends before they even happen. Their style might be unconventional at first, but soon, people start to emulate their trends. This couple is adaptable and highly efficient in moving toward the future, embracing new ideas and ways of doing things.

What makes this connection special is the deep intellectual connection. Before they ever fall in love, Gemini Moon and Aquarius Venus become best friends, building camaraderie, respect, and rapport with each other. This strong foundation of friendship is the perfect starting point for a lasting relationship.

𝖵𝖾𝗇𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖯𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗌 💖 𝖯𝗂𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝖬𝗈𝗈𝗇

Pisces Venus craves a soulful love, and no one touches the soul quite like a Pisces Moon. When these two individuals are in the same room, they can sense each other’s presence without even making eye contact. It’s as if their energies naturally recognize one another. Pisces Venus and Pisces Moon operate on the same frequency, making their connection feel destined.

Pisces Venus finds Pisces Moon intriguing because of their dreamy, introspective nature. Both are lost in their own worlds, more focused on their imagination, fantasies, and unfulfilled experiences than on external reality. They are seekers—craving something deeper, something that touches the soul. Pisces Moon embodies that depth, and Pisces Venus instinctively understands it.

One thing Pisces Venus admires about Pisces Moon is that their depth isn’t solely emotional—it’s an innate love for life and people. Pisces Venus, who also feels like a lover at heart, sees Pisces Moon as a perfect match—a kindred spirit, a soulmate, perhaps even a twin flame. This connection feels fated, like the love they have always dreamed of.

Pisces Venus appreciates Pisces Moon’s need for solitude. For Pisces Venus, nothing is more comforting than coexisting with someone in peaceful silence, without the need for constant conversation, drama, or excess. Just sitting together, sharing music, locking eyes, or enjoying simple, intimate moments is enough to create an overwhelming sense of romance. They don’t need grand gestures—a quiet walk in the park, a deep conversation, or a shared dream is more than enough to make their love feel magical.

Pisces Venus idolizes Pisces Moon for their unconditional love, and the best part is, Pisces Moon lives up to the ideal. They are the ultimate lover—deeply caring, wise, and compassionate. Pisces Venus longs to unravel the layers of the Pisces Moon, discovering more and more of their soul. In return, Pisces Moon adores Pisces Venus for their affectionate, tender, and nurturing nature. Pisces Venus brings a touch of magic—through their love, affection, and dreamy presence—something that Pisces Moon deeply appreciates.

This connection flows effortlessly. Pisces Moon is highly adaptable to the energy of Pisces Venus, allowing the Venus person to feel like they can fully merge with them. There is no resistance—only acceptance, willingness, and an intuitive understanding of each other’s needs. Pisces Moon reciprocates the love that Pisces Venus so generously gives, creating a relationship built on a constant exchange of tenderness, kindness, and devotion.

Their love feels profoundly spiritual, as if simply existing near each other is more than just being together—it’s an ethereal experience. Even the simplest, most mundane moments take on a dreamlike quality. Their energies vibrate at the same frequency, forming an unspoken, almost telepathic connection. They intuitively sense what the other needs without words.

This is a relationship filled with love, giving, and mutual compromise. Both are willing to adjust to each other’s rhythms, adapting seamlessly to the other’s essence. Their love feels endless, like they are constantly falling for each other over and over again. It’s as if they are locked into a vibration of pure understanding, making their bond feel eternal—an everlasting love.

[ao3commentoftheday]

While looking for something else, I found an old ask I answered about "ideal chapter length" in terms of word count.

I've been asked this probably a dozen or more times, and each time I need to take a moment and adjust my thinking to take the asker's point of view into account. Because the thing is? The only time I ever try to factor the word count into how I write a story is when I'm aiming for a true drabble.

For whatever reason, this difference in thinking stuck with me today and I actually considered why that might be. And I think it's because I'm in my 40s and the first 25-30 years of my life, any stories I was reading were printed on paper and bound into physical books.

When I imagine a novel, I still think of a mass market paperback on my bookshelf. An average one would be maybe an inch thick, probably in the neighbourhood of 300 pages. A long one would be maybe as much as two inches thick and 500 or more pages long. A short one was always nice to have because it filled in the gaps in the shelf because 200 page books were so much narrower. Or so it seemed.

When I started posting my fic online, I still thought in terms of pages. I'd type them out in whatever word processing software I was using at the time, and I'd usually get a chapter's worth of ideas into 3 or 4 pages. Turns out that's about 1000 words, which makes sense with the number of 1000 word essays I wrote in high school. I'd been trained to encapsulate an idea into approximately that length.

And that's what it comes down to. The thing that always made that question seem weird to me. A chapter isn't about how many words there are in it, just like a cake isn't about how many cups of flour exist in each slice. A chapter is a an idea that helps make up a bigger idea called a story, and it needs to be however many words that idea needs to be to get it out.

[malum-forev]

What's Past is Past

Summary: After months of not seeing Bucky, you're sent on a mission together, faking your way through a marriage. But it doesn't seem either of you are ready for it.

Ex-Bucky-Barnes x Spy-Reader

The bustling city and towering skyscrapers fade into an endless stretch of flat road faster than you expected. You never thought your job would take you beyond New York-then again, you never thought you’d be fighting alongside Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. 

For someone who consistently complains about subway delays and long for the fresh air your friends back home rave about, you’re surprisingly emotional about leaving. Even if it’s just for a month. 

Maybe it’s because you always imagined that when you finally left the city, it would be with the man of your dreams behind the wheel. 

But this? This is nothing like what you imagined. 

Sure, you have a diamond ring on your finger and a good man by your side but it’s all fake.

You pass through the only street in town, where time seems to have stopped. Everything looks as if it’s been suspended in the 1960’s.

“It says the house is just up the road.” 

It’s the first time in four hours that Bucky has spoken. He mumbled a broken hey when you got in the car, but after that, the only sound between you was the low rumble of the engine.

You hum in agreement. 

The house is nice-it’s not what you would’ve choose for yourself, but it’s nice. 

“I’m gonna get set up,” You don’t turn around as you step out of the car, heading to the trunk. 

“Let me help you with your stuff,” Bucky opens it before you can stop him.

You grab your suitcase before he can touch it. “I don’t need your help.”

“I was just trying to be nice,” he mutters as you walk past him. 

Inside, you set up your equipment, all facing south, toward your target: an ex-HYDRA assassin who’s been causing trouble.  

In any other situation, Bucky would be the worst person for this mission. But your new neighbor has had his mind wiped so many times he probably can’t tell his left hand from his right. He’s trained to kill. And you can’t have that.

A few hours later, there’s a knock at your door. 

“I was thinking of ordering a pizza. You want any?” Bucky asks, rolling his neck. 

“No, thank you.” You keep your eyes on the screen. The faster this mission ends, the faster you can leave all this behind. 

“C’mon, you need to eat.” He sighs, leaning on the doorframe. “You want your usual?”

You freeze. 

“Don’t do that.” You try to sound firm, but your voice barely comes out as a whisper.

“Do what?”

Finally, you look at him-for the first time all day. His steel-blue eyes meet yours. 

You’ve thought of this moment for months, ever since  everything between you imploded. But not even your wildest scenarios compare to the real thing. 

You thought you were completely over him, but the ache in your chest calls you a liar. 

“Don’t bring up our past,” you rip your gaze away. 

He throws his head back with a dry laugh. “Am I supposed to just forget that you like your pizza extra toasted? That your favorite color is navy? That you smile when the clouds turn darker?”

“Yes.” You snap. “You’re supposed to forget everything, that’s what you wanted-“

You stop yourself. “I can’t go down this road, Bucky.”

“Bucky?” He echoes with a scoff. “We’re back to regular names?”

That does it. 

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Yes! We’re back to our regular names, because that’s what you wanted! Did you expect me to still call you Jamie when you dumped without so much as a goodbye?”

“You’re acting like you wanted me to stay?” Bucky crosses his arms. “Like I was the perfect boyfriend?”

You shake your head. 

An amused look flashes through his face. “Are you saying I was better than the guy you’re with right now?”

“Bucky, stop,” you warn. 

“C’mon,” he raises his eyebrows. “Tell me, who’s better.”

“Oh, you want a final review? Is that why you’ve been trying to contact me? So I can give you a letter of recommendation?” You roll your eyes. “Fine, here it is. You were a great boyfriend. Attentive, loving, gentle. Until you let your own insecurities eat you alive. I tried to help you, Bucky. But you wouldn’t let me.”

Your voice cracks. 

“Then, you packed your shit and signed up for the longest mission you could find,” Your eyes prickle. “You left me. And I had to hear from someone at the compound that you’d already moved on.”

Bucky swallows hard, his eyes searching yours.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Overall, I’d give it a 6/10.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something but you stop him. 

“Let’s just get this mission over with,” you twist the fake ring on your finger. “I have someone to get home to.”

Authors Note: tbh idk what this is, I was just dyyyyinggg to write over here again! I've been MIA becauseeeee I wrote a book LOL. Nothing to do with marvel, sadly but I would love to know if anyone here would be interested in reading it. If so, please let me know in the comments so I can tag you when I upload the first couple of chapters on here!

Anywayyyssss thanks for the love and support! Don't forget to like, reblog, and comment. It helps out a lot! Remember: my asks are always open!

[hinamie]

subject, specimen, spectacle;

should i say that you're dead?