#balcony sentry

[littlepawz]

Although it has been 3 years since Rascal was rescued from a penguin colony, he still hasn’t fully grasped that he is a cat.

[magnusmodig]

||. thor misunderstanding earthen housing norms in the modern day is SO funny to me to think about. He's doing his best, but between being from another planet with far more advanced technology (and much more "archaic" culture customs) on top of also being a PRINCE, I would imagine some normal practices and understandings of things simply don't click with him more than others.... Not because he's not smart. Thor is incredibly intelligent. ONLY because of the huge culture divide. But... that said: the concept of having neighbors who own their own land right next to yours, but the plots of land are TINY ??? absolutely crazy to him. Why aren't the plots of land BIGGER? why don't more people utilize it to farm crops???

Also don't get him STARTED on the idea - or nature of - apartments.

[popjunkie42]

Chains Chapter Three

Read on AO3

Summary:

Lucien steals Feyre away from the safety of the Night Court as she and Rhys train in the Illyrian Steppes. Winnowing her to the Spring Court and Tamlin, Feyre must contend with the consequences of leaving while held against her will.

An ACOMAF Chapter 47 divergence.

Chapter Three: Your Sharp and Glorious Thorn

Feyre faces her fate alone, locked in a bedroom in the Spring Court.

Love to @witch-and-her-witcher and @foundress0fnothing for reading this chapter twice 😅 Sometimes I am needy.

Thank you all for the comments and great response to this story! I think you might love this chapter. I hope you do. The pressure is real...

Read the beginning of Chapter Three under the cut:

From the corner of the room, I watched the soft colors of dusk deepen into night between the snarled branches of a rose bush.

My bedroom in Spring had been destroyed. Furniture shattered to splinters, the carpet torn by clawed hands, the wide door to the balcony ripped free.

Two sentries had led me here from the dining room. Eyes averted, hands respectful but firm on my shoulders, urging me forward. Did they remember me, I wondered? What did they think of the former lady of the house now reduced to a prisoner?

Or perhaps I was wrong, perhaps my treatment was nothing unusual in Spring, in Prythian…the thought made me feel even more alone, my well of anger chained within me like my hands.

I had stopped in the doorway, my ragged mind taking a moment to catch up, to take in the evidence of violence, so strong I felt it like a mark on my skin.

The window no longer had a view of the hedged gardens, but was replaced with the dark and twining black branches of a rose tree - its flowers blood red, the largest branches as thick as my wrist. Growing so close only pinpricks of light came through, dappling over the room.

“Not here.”

I jumped at the voice behind me. Hadn’t even heard him approach - had been relying too much on my fae powers once again.

Tamlin’s broad shoulders were hunched. He looked…exhausted. But he didn’t look at me as he tilted his head, motioning for me to follow.

Probably for the best. He would find no sympathy from me. I hoped he did feel wretched and regretful. Hope it haunted him all night and kept him from sleep.

I wondered for a moment if I had ever made his life easier, better. Did he sometimes remember the regret he had in tearing down my cabin door and bringing me to his court?

The sentries lingered as the High Lord opened the bedroom down the hall. A clean room, a mirror to the old one, gold and sage and plush white. As if the room beside me wasn’t the perfect portrait of the blood-stained brutality that was soaked deep in the soil, that fed the grass and hedges.

But one thing was the same. The window, any light was nearly blotted out by the thick rose bushes growing outside. It was a wonder I didn’t see it from the outside, when I first arrived, this sharp monstrosity taking over the grounds.

Tamlin paused, swallowing as if the words were stuck in his throat. “Everything will be alright,” he said finally before closing the door.

I didn’t know if he was talking to me or himself.

With the snick of the heavy door locked shut, suddenly it was so, so quiet.

Something staggering was building inside me - not my familiar magic but something…devastating. Hot and cold battling in surges on my skin, inside me, panic choked like a strangled scream.

Before it could burst, I ran to the windows and threw them open, my shaking hands struggling with the latches. My fingers pulled and scraped at the cage of bark and thorns. But even when I managed to snap off a small branch, it bled milky white and acidic onto my fingers, a new twig of bark already growing to take its place.

When my hand slipped and a thorn the size of my thumb impaled into my palm, I collapsed into the corner into a gentle shadow. My hand gushed blood for far too long. I forgot that with my fae healing gone, even small hurts could overtake a body. I squeezed it until the worst of it stopped, still dripping onto the pristine white carpet beside me.

I didn’t know how long I was there, collapsed in the dark.

The blue chains around my ankles and wrists seared and scorched in an endless cycle, the pain radiating down my bones and through my spine, settling in a sharp headache at the base of my skull.

All the fear, anger and despair roiled within me under the pain. Even the scents of the room felt sickly, wrong. Suffocating. No breeze from the choked windows, a locked door at my side.

I remembered the feeling well. Here in the manor, smothered in the smell of flowers, but also –

The putrid damp of filthy water. A crunch of hay under me. The hours I spent walking in circles, fingers brushing up against jagged cold stone until they were raw…

I shook my head to try and dispel the memories. I was not underground. I was not Under the Mountain. I was not in a cold and dank cell reeking of vomit. I was in a room with a bed and the sounds of birds in the trees and I would be let out tomorrow.

I was going to get out. I was going to get out.

Groaning in frustration, I jumped in shock from pain as I ran my hands through my hair and the shackles seared against the skin on my forehead. If I could just focus, just calm for a moment, I could ride through the pain, get control of myself enough to think this through. But I couldn’t find a foothold between pain and panic, and so I passed untold hours longing for relief.

Twilight had fallen with barely a notice, darkness creeping in between the small spaces left between the trunk of the rose bush. Only a single candle was lit on a small windowsill. But I didn’t mind. I let the darkness soothe me, hide me, propped against the green wallpaper, wishing for sleep to wash over me.

I was no closer to sleep when a soft knock on the door and the click of the lock announced a sentry bringing me food and tea and water. I didn’t think I could choke down the rich courtly fare, but I chugged the water desperately. Searched the platter - no cutlery.

I settled back down with a cup of tea, soothing in my hands, and scanned the room.

A litany of fears had been marching through my mind, whipping my heart rate higher and higher. What if these stones, these chains, weren’t just hiding my power but taking it? What if they took them off me tomorrow and I was drained dry like an empty well? Was that Tamlin’s greatest wish - that I no longer risk his Court and unwanted attention by others? What if my powers would be no use to me in escaping this place?

I had been selfishly, shamelessly waiting to hear him - the crack of an angry winnow, the thunderclap of pounding wings, the unmistakable power of star-kissed night.

I finished the last sip of tea with a sigh, sugar at the bottom of the cup filling my mouth with overwhelming sweetness.

But what happened then, if he did come? What if he descended on Tamlin with an army of Illyrian warriors wreathed in darkness? What if he turned this manor to rubble and word went out across Prythian about yet another act of violence and wrath by the dark lord?

Perhaps I was worrying about the wrong things. As twilight turned to midnight, and the only sounds were the shuffling of sentries and a nightingale in the gardens, I felt a dreadful numbness steal over me. I couldn’t sleep, but I closed my eyes and listened.

Rhys wasn’t here.

Why wasn’t he here?

I knew he could winnow here, believed he could unravel Tamlin’s wards with a flick of his wrist.

It was silly of me, selfish to think – I had to be realistic –

Maybe Amren was advising him right now. Be cautious. Don’t start a war. Don’t burst into enemy Courts and start destroying things because then how would they respond in turn?

I was, after all, just an emissary. Most likely a poor one at that. A bumbling child that he had taken some pity on and kept around for our own mutual interests.

Reality hit me cold and harsh. I shut my eyes to it, grit my teeth. A deep, biting chill poured through my bones. The cold so deep I thought it might freeze and break me apart.

I had just thought, maybe this time – maybe somebody would come for me. Remembered how strange it had felt when Mor had lifted me in her arms like a child. How I had woken up to the dawn and mountains - upset and confused and numb, but also, safe.

I steeled myself against the panic, the self-pity.

When had I come to rely on him so much? That his absence felt unnatural, unnerving?

Whether he was coming or not, I couldn’t stay here. I would have to do it myself. Just as I had always done, before I met him and before I even came to Prythian. Staying here was against the question - not with my powers sapped, with the measures they had taken to hobble me.

I drew a deep breath into my lungs. I called upon whatever reserves of strength I had left. The last mile in the woods before turning in for the night, hungry and desperate. My body shivered at the quaking pain against my skin. I stood up to take in the room.

If I worked on the rose tree, I couldn’t open a space large enough to get out but I could take a branch for a weapon. Maybe I would fashion daggers out of thorns, maybe I’d save the milky burning sap for whoever opened my door next.

A weapon, a snare, a distraction. I knew from experience that none of it would matter without my powers. I wouldn’t get past the front gates.

Blue stone pressed against the pale bruised skin of my wrists. A tight fit, but…

I curved my thumb, hissing through my teeth as I pushed the stone against my bones. Willing joints and bones to bend. Black dots started to blur my vision against the burning agony of whatever poisoned magic they possessed.

A deep breath as I let up again, stone back to dangle on my wrist.

I had seen the aftermath of animals that gnawed their way out of traps. Coming hours later to discover blood and tufts of fur at some life or death struggle lived alone and in agony.

I would have to break my thumbs. If I could do it quickly, before the pain overtook me, my fae healing could return and I –

I tried to breathe around the panic, tried to listen and distract myself from my racing thoughts.

The sounds of the manor settling became softer and quieter as night deepened. Murmured voices from the conversation of sentries outside of my door. The distant sound of doors closing, servants going about their final duties for the evening as if this place hadn’t become a prison. The nightingale was calling desperately outside, joined in an occasional chorus by the soft answer of an owl somewhere on the edge of the forest.

I let everything settle inside of me. Quieting. Digging. Looking for that deep well of power within me once again - before I had to resort to this. Feeling the air around me - wanting to call the magic forth - whether fire from the candle or water from the dew settling on the rose petals - I begged something to speak to me, to pull it from inside me where it hid.

The nightingale had gone quiet. And through the woven tapestry of curled wood and thorns silver light was streaming in between the darkness - the light of the moon.

Of course. How ridiculous of me.

I hadn’t been able to summon the darkness before like Rhysand had, speckled with those jewel-like stars. But I reached for it, called for it, thinking of him, of the power I could always sense emanating off of him – of the vast and endless night skies peeking into my room.

The air pressure in the room dropped along with the temperature - my next breath coming out in a cold puff of air.

A crackling on my skin like lightning about to strike, all my hairs standing up on end. Before my mind could understand, the latticed prison of the rose tree snapped through the middle with a deafening crack.

A sharp sliver of onyx glass cut through the room, and Rhysand stepped out of it onto the carpet in front of me.

Even with my fae senses dulled, I could indeed feel that power off of him now, blackness twisting in the air like cold smoke with the promise of death.

His wide eyes quickly scanned the room. When he found me, he went still as stone.

Read the rest on AO3

[throneofsapphics]

midnight panic

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Request: dark!Rowaelin x reader angst to fluff, she wanders around the castle and they can’t find her and think she ran or something. 

Summary: Rowan and Aelin find you missing in the middle of the night 

Warnings: darkish rowan/aelin, sleepwalking, hypothermia, fighting, toxic relationships

Word Count: ~3.2k 

A/N: this is a standalone, but also fits between parts 4 & 5 of my dark poly!rowaelin series (have your little girlfriend), but you don’t need to read the actual series to understand this one!

Aelin squinted, the light from the full moon hitting at the perfect angle to shine directly on her face. Keeping her eyes shut, not wanting the sleepiness to disappear, she turned back towards her, reaching her arm over to pull her back into her side, to cuddle into her warmth again. 

Aelin’s hand hit the bed, the space beside her warm - but empty, her eyes shot open. Majority of the time, she slept between her and Rowan. Lifting her head, she wasn't on his other side. Things had been … testy, lately. She couldn’t shake the feeling that y/n wanted out, wanted to leave the two of them, to escape to gods-know-where. She listened carefully for sounds in the bathroom - or even the sitting room, but nothing. How had she left without them noticing? 

“Rowan,” she said, trying to keep her voice low enough she wouldn’t startle him. Wouldn’t trigger the battle-honed instincts. A grunt, and he rolled towards her, reaching his own hand out and - his eyes shot open as well. Rowan checked the bathroom, and she peeked out onto the balcony - empty. Nothing was out of place, no missing items, if anything she’d left with only the clothes on her back.

“What the hell,” she muttered under her breath. 

“She was here an hour ago,” Rowan said, all traces of sleep gone. A good bit of distance could be covered in an hour, especially if she’d shifted into her animal form. 

I’ll check inside the castle, she said silently

I have the city, he assured her. In bird form, he’d be able to cover more ground. Signal if you find her. If we don’t in two hours, meet back here. 

One they’d used throughout the years - a pulse of magic, strong enough the other could recognize, but subtle enough to not cause alarm to the general public. 

It was midnight, and absolutely freezing. There was snow on the ground, ice covering the windows, the temperatures well below freezing. Even inside the castle, a bitter chill set in. Within minutes, they were dressed warmly and armed with their usual assortment of weapons. Rowan propped the window open, and with a flash of light a white-tailed hawk soared into the night. 

Aelin knew all of the routes to take to avoid any guards or sentries. It went without saying that they’d keep this under wraps. When they found her, there’d be hell to pay. She raced through the halls, checking her workshop, the private library, every place she usually liked to spend time. Every scent was faint, she hadn’t been there in the last few hours. Each minute she grew angrier and more worried. 

Tracing back, on impulse she checked on of the older passages out of the castle - and caught her scent. Running, she’d tried to run. Breathing deeply to tamp down her anger, threatening to flow over into her magic, she focused her senses. There’s no way she’d let her get away. A mating bond was for life. There’s nowhere she could run that her mates wouldn’t find her, even if it took years. 

-

Rowan flew over the city, backtracking through every route she could take out, searching for any trail of her scent. He spotted Aelin, following a path out of the castle, and shot down, shifting to fall in step with her. 

“She went this way,” Aelin said quietly, and he picked up on the same trail. Fae, at least she hadn’t shifted, that would make this much easier. 

This was familiar, something they’d done in their time before her. They were going on a hunt. 

Did she really think they wouldn’t notice? He needed to figure out how he’d given her the impression he was that stupid, and fix it. 

They trailed her out of the castle grounds, past the gates - a guard currently sleeping on duty. He’d quickly find himself out of a job in the morning, but he didn’t have the time to address that now, instead sending a sharp wind towards him when they were out of sight. A shield wrapped around them, hiding their scents as they stuck to the shadows, tracing her steps. 

She led them out of the city, just past the gates, right to the edge of the forest. His anger was rising to dangerous levels, and he knew that. Rowan prayed she wouldn’t fight them. 

Aelin held a hand out, as they paused just before a clearing. 

They’d found her, and it wasn’t what he expected. 

Barefoot, in only  her nightgown, not a weapon or any kind of provisions on her, she walked back and forth along the edge of the clearing. She crouched every few steps to pick up something, but her hands came back empty. Something was wrong - there was a daze in her eyes, murmuring random phrases under her breath, low enough he couldn’t hear. She didn’t drink any alcohol that night… Could someone have slipped her a drug? No, they ate all of the same food in their rooms, and he always made a point to check for any kind of poison. 

Following Aelin’s lead, they slowly approached her. 

“Y/n,” Aelin called. She didn’t react, didn’t even turn around. Aelin repeated her name - louder. Still nothing. 

A warm flame caressed her skin, starting to warm her back up. Gods, she’d be hypothermic by now. He’s surprised she hasn’t passed out on the ground.

All Rowan wanted was to sprint towards her, to grab and shake her, to find out what the fuck she was thinking, but instinct had him moving carefully and slowly, keeping his footsteps purposefully loud.

Aelin met his eyes; what do we do?

His breath caught as she turned, but no recognition flashed through her eyes. Actually, it was like they weren’t there at all. 

Aelin tried calling her name, again and again and didn’t get a single reaction. Nothing to register she was aware they existed. 

An exasperated sigh, and she closed the distance, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Y/n screamed, stumbling backwards, her ass hitting the ground, hands scrambling on the rocks to try and get away. A wall of flame, but not one that would burn her, blocked the path. As she reached the warmth, something in her calmed. Almost like she’d recognized Aelin’s magic, even wherever she was right now. 

Did she ever mention sleepwalking? Rowan asked her. 

Not that I know of. 

That doesn’t mean it’s not possible. There’s a chance she would hide something like this from them, probably not thinking it was important. He’d bet a decent bit of gold that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Gods, they’d be putting locks on everything now. 

After five minutes of trying to reach her, five minutes of her increasing distress, five minutes of fear starting to fill the air, he gave up. Palms already bloodied, wiping them off on her nightgown, he crouched as close to her as he could get. 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and pulled the air from her lungs, catching her before her head could hit the ground. 

-

Mercifully, she stayed asleep as they ran back to the castle, moving as quickly as possible while staying hidden. Aelin kept the flames going, kept slowly warming her temperature back to healthy levels. Rowan had thrown her over his shoulder, one arm securing her legs in place. It didn’t look comfortable, but it was the quickest way to get back. Comfort could come later, after she was home, warm, and safe. Her mind whirled with the things she needed to do; find a way to secure the room, run a warm bath, hope she’d wake easily, and figure out if she was hiding this from them. 

They made it back without incident, taking all of the hidden passageways through the castle. Nearing one in the morning. She’d been outside for two hours. Anything could’ve happened to her. Especially considering how gods-damned vulnerable she was. It wasn’t her fault, not really, but Aelin was still pissed off. 

Not how they’d thought, but they came so close to losing her without even knowing. 

-

She felt warm water around her, her muscles tense and aching. Wasn’t she asleep? How the hell did she get into a bath? It took more effort than it should’ve to open her eyes, but she saw Aelin, right there, watching her every movement. Relief flashed through turquoise eyes, followed by … anger or resentment. 

“Do you know what happened?” Aelin asked, voice rough. 

“What do you mean?” She moved her foot up and down, her leg feeling weaker than normal. The water was warm, she knew that, but a shiver still ran through her and she wrapped her arms back around herself. The bath heated a few degrees, and she felt Aelin’s magic running through the water. Soothing and comforting. 

“We found you in the gods-damned forest,” Aelin hissed, struggling to keep her voice low. 

The door swung open, revealing Rowan. She noticed they were both fully dressed, weapons still sheathed. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Have you ever sleepwalked?” He asked mildly. A dangerous kind of mild, especially considering the rest of his body language, and the anger she could feel radiating down the bond. 

“Not since I was a child,” she admitted. Green eyes darkened, fixed on her, like he’d located his newest target. Her throat bobbed, chest tightening. It was never good to be on the receiving end of that look. 

“And you didn’t think to share that?” 

“It’s been years,” she focused on keeping her tone quiet and calm, on staying steady, even as her hands threatened to shake. She didn’t like this side of them. Darting her eyes to Aelin, she found herself on the receiving end of that same look. 

Liar, her eyes seemed to say. 

“I never lied,” she knew what their reply would be. 

“Lying by omission is still lying.” 

She was tired, aching, and still dazed. Her mind could barely focus enough to actually get a grip on the situation. The forest. Sleepwalking. Lying. It was too much effort to speak, to keep her eyes open, darkness swirled in her vision. 

“Stay awake,” fingers pinched her cheek, and she startled, water splashing over the sides of the tub. Fire evaporated it before it could reach the ground. 

“I’m trying,” y/n mumbled, running a wet hand over her face. The water heated again. How long had Aelin been doing this with her? “I don’t understand,” she gripped her hair with both hands, yanking at it. Frustrated. None of this made sense. 

Hands gripped her own, tugging them away from her hair. She was lifted out of the bath, towels drying her, leaning against someone as they slipped a nightgown over her - too weak to stand on her own. The next thing she knew, she hit soft and warm sheets, cradled between two warm bodies, and let sleep take her under. 

Every so often, her name would be called, eyes blinking open, gazing up at either Rowan or Aelin, they’d give her a small nod and she understood that - she could go back to sleep. There wasn’t enough space in her mind to question what was going on, it was easy to listen to what her mates said, to sense and follow their intentions. 

-

Aelin met Rowan’s eyes in the bathroom; she’s too confused. 

We won’t get anything out of her tonight, he finished her thoughts. 

Seeing the state of confusion, the distress, the vulnerability, all made it easy to just take care of her, to shove away the other emotions for now, to focus on making sure she’s safe. Free from anything that could harm her, including the sleepwalking. But, the major concern now was making sure her body recovered from her little adventure. Neither of them slept that night, Aelin didn’t try - she only grabbed a book and tried to focus on it. Inevitably, her eyes would switch to the clock, waiting for the next half-hour to wake her. It probably wasn’t necessary, or recommended, but she had to know y/n would wake. 

When dawn broke, she finally felt like she could leave the room, Rowan still keeping a careful eye on her. Just a week away from Samhuinn, the days rapidly got shorter and shorter as they approached the coldest months. They’d get maybe ten and half or eleven hours of daylight today. The sun always disappeared too quickly for her liking. 

A fire roared in the sitting room behind her, and she busied herself making tea, adding extra honey to y/n’s. She was out in the cold for a few hours, and her voice did sound hoarse earlier, Aelin figured she might have a sore throat. If not, she had a sweet tooth anyway.  

“I’m perfectly capable,” Aelin heard y/n’s voice rising, “I can get out of this damned bed on my own.” 

“Don’t fucking move,” Rowan snapped at her. She agreed with him, and carefully balanced the three cups. 

Pushing the door open with her foot, she found Rowan standing over the side of the bed, ready to pin y/n to the bed if she tried to move again. She was propped up against the headboard, fists clenching the comforter. Aelin could tell y/n woke up ready for a fight. Good, she wasn’t feeling particularly calm either. But first, tea. 

-

Aelin came back in, but y/n knew she wouldn’t be on her side. It was two-against-one now. Even as Aelin shoved the cup of tea into her hands, taking up the space next to her on the bed, legs crossed, and hands cradling her own cup. Silently, Rowan took the other from her, and dragged his chair closer to the bed. 

Y/n knew exactly what the cups would have. A good amount of sugar for Aelin, plain and boring for Rowan, and based on the scent - honey for her. She’s not sure how, but Aelin picked up that her throat was sore. It was enough to soothe some of the sting from the impending argument. 

Sure enough, honey exploded on her tongue - more than usual, but it was soothing her throat, and she wouldn’t complain. Complaining would only make her situation worse. She debated just accepting blame, letting them win this one, but truly - she hadn’t done anything wrong. There was no indication to think she’d end up sleepwalking again. Gods, she’d forgotten about it. 

“I haven’t sleepwalked since I was seven years old,” she kept her eyes on her cup, swirling the liquid to give her something to focus on. 

“If we’re going to talk about this, you need to look at us,” Rowan said too calmly. Fuck. 

Throat bobbing, she looked up at them. Seeing the gleam in their eyes, she went right on the defensive. “I was asleep, how the hell is this my fault?” Rowan stiffened, and she looked to Aelin.

“The problem is, you didn’t think to tell us,” Aelin’s voice was neutral, but she knew that was the sign of her growing anger. 

“You never asked,” she hissed back at her. 

“Watch your fucking attitude,” Rowan snarled. 

Closing her eyes, a few deep breaths later, she tried something different, “my parents always told me it only happened when I felt safe, when my mind - even asleep, thought I couldn’t come to any harm.” 

Emphasizing that she feels safe with them, that even though it was dangerous - the deepest parts of her mind believed she couldn’t come to any harm around them. At least she’s hoping that’s what they’d read out of the situation. 

“We thought you ran,” Aelin said quietly, her hand reaching out, and y/n slipped her palm into hers, giving her a light squeeze. She could tell Aelin had already softened, that her anger was slowly ebbing out. Rowan, however, would take a bit more time, and maybe some more soothing. 

“I’m not running,” she murmured. It’s the truth, she doesn’t want to leave, even if she craved some space away - something she could never tell them. Truly leaving them, she doesn’t think she could ever do that. Her heart and soul might not survive it, even if her mind says it could be better. 

Rowan was still assessing her, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, and she read the words in his eyes instead, the silent communication; you didn’t think. 

I’m sorry, she answered. 

Are you really?

That I put both of you through that. Rowan seemed to be waiting, waiting for her to add something. And myself, she tried. He gave her a short nod, and she understood; conversation over. 

She’d expected a much larger fight, but gods she’s glad it didn’t come to that. Y/n stretched, trying to place her mug on the table, but Rowan was there before she could get halfway, snatching it from her hands to place it there himself. 

Another realization struck her. Rowan told her briefly that she nearly froze to death. Now they’d be absolutely insufferable until they were satisfied she was healthy again. Knowing them, it could take much longer than necessary. Maybe this was her punishment, she met Rowan’s gaze again, reading the gleam in his eyes. Yes, it’s definitely her punishment. 

She debated reaching back into that part of her, trying to shift into her fox form - where everything would be easier. 

Rowan - the bastard, sensed that. “Try to shift and I’ll rip the air out of your lungs.” 

“A bit dramatic,” she huffed, but it put an end to that idea, and her attention switched to Aelin, who looked tired. A bit of guilt crept in, she’d been up all night for her. “Will you take a nap with me?” 

She is tired. Sleep sounded very, very nice. Aelin latched on to the idea, almost chucking her mug at Rowan before sliding in next to her. 

Aelin tugged her into her chest, their bodies molding together, legs tangling. Aelin ran her fingers through her hair, humming a tune she didn’t recognize. It was sweet, seeing Aelin in her fussy mode. At least this part of it. “Sleep, my love,” she murmured, placing a kiss to the top of her head. She heard Rowan rustling around the room, but every time she tried to look, Aelin tucked her head back in. Based on the movements, she figured it out pretty quickly. He was setting up something on the various doors in the room, some kind of noise or object would fall to alert them if she made it out over there. On the off chance both of them were asleep and didn’t notice. 

Without having to ask, she knew there would be locks on the doors by the end of the day. Locks she wouldn’t be able to access the key to, at least during the night. It felt vaguely like a cage, but the bed dipped again, a strong arm wrapping around her waist, Rowan’s strong chest pressing against her back.   

“Rowan,” she murmured, struggling to stay awake, “how the hell did I get past you?” 

A low growl from behind her, and she hid her laughter, tucking her face into Aelin. 

“I’m the one that found you,” she chuckled, hand resting on the back of her head, like she might protect her from the glare she could feel coming from Rowan. 

Y/n jumped as he pinched her arm, letting out a slightly-embarrassing squeak, but heard Aelin slapping Rowan’s hand away, chiding him.

[wizardofrozz]

Shadow Play

Commander Fox x senator!reader (fem), Senator Farr, Commander Thorn, and mention of Commander Stone

Word Count: ~3.7k

Warnings: NSFW, this is literally just filth, unprotected sex, exhibition, creampie, fluff, Fox being a tease

Summary: Seeing their favorite senator getting wrecked by their commander was certainly not in the Coruscant Guard’s mission briefing for today. 

A/N: I finally had the motivation to write some Fox smut thanks to this art. Huge thanks to @homie-one-kenobi​ for all the encouragement and help editing ❤️ Writing this has reduced me to a puddle so please enjoy 😂

         Lights flashed across the rows of seats, making you squint as another Mon Calamari dancer twirled elegantly. You tried to focus on the choreography, praying it would hold your attention but no matter what, you still couldn’t force yourself to enjoy the ballet. Watching it for a third time wasn’t changing your opinion, yet it wasn’t like you could’ve declined the offer. Your eyes flickered to the balcony opposite you, noting Fox’s absence for the fifth time in less than an hour, borderline glaring at the unfortunate Corrie taking his place. 

         A small part of you hated the poor sentry, his red armor acting as a constant reminder that for the last 21 rotations and 17 hours since Fox left for an off-world assignment, your bed had been cold and empty. Your eyes finally drifted away from the trooper and just barely stopped yourself from rolling your eyes at the small group of senators whispering praises. While you agreed that the performers were exceptional, you couldn’t follow the plot, leaving you to count down the seconds until the next intermission. A small part of you wished that Riyo or Padme were there to make the whole experience a little more bearable. 

         Years of etiquette training was the only thing that stopped you from jumping out of your seat when a booming voice announced the second intermission. Your aid that was standing near the back of the senatorial box shot you a sympathetic look and you appreciated the gesture even if there was nothing they could do to help. Just as the door was within reach, the faint call of your name had you stopping in your tracks, forcing your expression to remain pleasant. 

         “Senator Farr,” you greeted, managing a small smile. You had nothing against the Rodian senator, you quite liked him, but you really weren’t in the mood for small talk. You expected him to ask for your interpretation of the ballet only to surprise you when he ushered you into the bustling hall. 

         “How many more acts are there?” he whispered, leaning in to keep the conversation somewhat private. Your mouth twisted to the side in a poor attempt at hiding your amusement.

         “Three,” you replied, chewing on your top lip when Senator Farr’s already large eyes seemed to grow bigger. “I plan to feign a stomach bug for the next two.” 

         “Will it be any less believable if we both do?” he mused, glancing over your shoulder at the cluster of senators still talking about Act 2. 

         “Probably more believable,” you snickered, scratching the corner of your mouth to cover your persistent grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling well.”

         “Hm, now that you mention it,” Farr sighed, his forehead wrinkling in a show of distress that you found quite impressive. He chanced one last look over your shoulder before gently nudging your arm and hurrying toward the bathroom. You allowed yourself a fond laugh before heading in the direction of the lady’s room, making a detour through the nearby door at the last second. The click of your disgustingly uncomfortable shoes was deafening in the silent stairwell, making you pause at the top of the first flight to check no one had followed. 

         Once you were confident you were in the clear, you took the last flight at a slower pace, contemplating burning the fucking torture devices you called shoes the entire way. You paused one last time at the top of the steps, just to be safe, before slipping through the door at the top. A warm, orangish glow washed over you, melting some of the tension in your neck and shoulders as you stepped into the cupola. 

         It had been far too long since you’d ventured into the little hideaway, only able to admire the beautiful stained glass windows from afar. Most Coruscant residents had no idea there was even a room atop the opera house, meaning they missed out on one of the most beautiful views. You lazily wandered toward the window, lightly brushing your fingers over the marbled glass, watching the slightly distorted ecumenopolis below. Your original intention had been to find a refuge from the torture of sitting through three more acts but standing there, looking out across the capital world, all you felt was lonely. 

         The soft whir of the door was lost to your aching heart but there was no mistaking the muted footsteps approaching. Anyone else would’ve felt fear in that moment, yet you only sighed, knowing the taste of solace you found had come to an end. You let your hand linger on the cool glass for another second before dropping it, turning to face the presence lingering off to your left. 

         For a moment, you were convinced you were hallucinating, that maybe you were sick, when you turned to find a Coruscant Guard member watching you. There was no mistaking the pattern you had sought out in waves of red armor time and time again. He canted his head and it was so painfully familiar, it nearly brought tears to your eyes.

         “What are you doing here?” you blurted, your manners suddenly tumbling to Coruscant’s surface. Not that he minded. 

         “I could ask you the same thing,” Fox countered. Just hearing his voice, the unique inflection in his words that set him apart had your shoulders slumping like the marionette strings folding your facade up had been cut. Something between a sob and laugh tumbled past your lips, the sound seemed to break through the barrier Fox built around himself. The second his stance lost some of its rigidity you were moving, throwing your arms around his shoulders. The collision punched a grunt out of Fox but he barely even swayed, catching your weight with ease.

         “What are you doing here?” you repeated, the words muffled against his shoulder. It had been three long weeks since you saw him before he went dark for a security detail off-world. Fox smelled of blaster fire, caf, and sweat, a mixture that should’ve had your nose wrinkling, but right then, it was so perfectly him you pressed closer. 

         “Thought I’d pick up a security shift for a few senators spending the night at the opera,” Fox sighed, pressing the hard edge of his helmet against the side of your head. That had you pulling away, staring into his dark visor. How long had he been back? The question must’ve been written all over your face because Fox laughed, a soft, beautiful sound. “Relax, we landed maybe an hour before it started.”

         “Shouldn’t you be resting?” you mumbled, threading your fingers together at the back of his neck.

         “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” Fox snorted, pulling you as close as he dared. The bite of plastoid against your body was uncomfortable but you’d take it over his absence any day.

         “Drama queen,” you huffed with a fond eye roll. His helmet tipped down and you assumed he was pinning you with a dark glare, something you had never wanted to see more than you did in that moment. You carefully broke the seal, slowly lifting the bright red helmet off, not realizing you were holding your breath. Fox blinked a few times, gently shaking his head, tousling his longer-than-normal curls. But instead of a scowl, you were greeted with a soft smile that melted your heart. 

         “Hey,” he breathed, gently tracing the curve of your back. 

         “Stars, I missed you,” you rasped just before surging forward to capture his lips. Fox let out a soft, breathy laugh against your lips before gently cradling the back of your head, and leaning into the kiss. The bitterness of caf lingered on his lips, a taste you shouldn’t have missed seeing that you drank it just as often as Fox, however, it always seemed to taste better this way.   

         The kiss had started out sweet, a slow and tender brush of lips that made your heart flutter wildly. You intended to pull away until Fox started to knead the back of your neck, molding you against the curve of his chest. Every ounce of fatigue and anxiety you had been holding onto melted away as you coaxed his mouth open. Fox groaned softly, using his hold on your neck to angle your head back with an urgency you weren’t expecting. The shift had your head spinning to the point that you hadn’t realized you were moving until your back met the cool window.

         “Missed you too,” Fox mumbled, dragging his lips away from yours to pant against your cheek. “So fucking much.”

         “Mm, playing bodyguard for one of my colleagues wasn’t engaging enough,” you teased, carding through his messy hair. Fox nipped at your ear in retaliation, forcing a half-gasp, half-giggle past your lips. He tugged you tighter against his chest, the unforgiving plastoid of his codpiece pressing into your thigh, tempting you with what waited behind it. 

         “Like any of them could compare to you,” he breathed, nuzzling into your neck with a shallow roll of his hips. Maybe it was because you weren’t used to him being gone for long stretches of time but you were suddenly aching to feel something beyond GAR blacks and rigid plastoid. Fox yelped at the impatient tug on his codpiece, pulling back to dart his eyes between your hand and your face. 

         “What - what are you doing?” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder. Yet he didn’t try to move your hand, letting you trace the shape at a torturous pace. 

         “I’m trying to indulge in what I’ve been daydreaming about for weeks,” you huffed, playfully tugging on the clip holding the armor in place. You watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed before his expression shifted, brown eyes somehow growing darker in the low light. 

         “Right here?” Fox mused, crowding you against the window and pinning your hand in place. Daring you to bow out. “Now what if one of the boys looked up and saw us? How would they feel seeing their favorite senator being ruined by their commander?” 

         “Fox,” you gasped, closing your fist in his hair, and grinding into the curve of his thigh plate. The idea should’ve scared you, should’ve filled you with a numbing dread at the thought of anyone catching an esteemed senator with a Guard commander. Instead, you clenched around nothing, mouth falling open with your strained pants. 

         “Oh, you like that, honey,” Fox purred, his gloved hand slipping under the hem of your short skirt. Even through a layer of fabric, his touch left a trail of heat across your skin. The quiet whine that followed the first brush of his fingers over your cunt made him shiver in your grip. “Maker, you sound even sweeter than in my dreams.”

         “You - you dream about the s-sounds I make?” you panted, rocking forward in time with the drag of his fingers.

         “Oh, I dream about more than that,” he chucked, bumping his nose against yours.

         “Care to share?”

         “How long do you have?” 

         “For you?” you whispered, barely brushing your lips against his. “All the time in the galaxy.”

         “Is that so?” he mumbled, moving to pepper kisses down the side of your neck. You caught a glimpse of redness high on his cheeks just before a digit sank into you with little resistance. Your cunt clenched around his gloved finger, a strangled moan bursting from your lips as he pumped his finger once. The rough fabric of his gloves never bothered you before but the desperate, clawing need to feel the warmth of his skin had you squirming.

         “Take your gloves off,” you all but begged, “please.” You almost wished you hadn’t asked when he slowly, torturously, pulled away. He caught your eye, pinning you in place with a heavy look, never breaking eye contact as he brought his hand toward his face. You had witnessed Fox bring down a mercenary single-handedly after losing his blaster, seen him dissolve a full-fledged riot, and hit what should’ve been an impossible mark without batting an eye. Yet somehow the sight of his tongue curling around the soaked finger of his glove was more electrifying, setting your teeth on edge. 

         He pinned you in place, closing his lips around his finger; his lashes fluttered, a muffled groan filling the air as he savored your taste. Your lungs suddenly felt too small as you watched the slow drag of his digit over his full bottom lip. Fox was putting on a show, the twinkle in his lust-blown eyes giving him away and you were undoubtedly enjoying every second. A flash of white teeth sinking into the tip of the glove made your breath hitch, your eyes staying glued to the hem of the fabric as Fox tilted his head back, revealing strong, calloused hands. 

         Fox’s now bare hand came to rest lightly against your chest, following the curve of your body but your focus was zeroed in on the glove dangling from his teeth. He looked far too pleased with himself, a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he paused, letting you admire the view. The feather-light brush of his fingers over your heated skin jerked you back to reality but your eyes still followed the fabric when he turned his head, letting the glove fall to the floor before turning his attention back to you. 

         “Better?” he rumbled, brushing through your folds before sinking two fingers into you, his smug grin never fading. Your head bobbed in an almost frantic nod as you tried to bite back a moan. Fox’s smug smile wasn’t helping either. 

         “Fuck, yes,” you gasped, tightening your grip in his hair. Fox hummed in the back of his throat, lazily pumping his fingers like he had all the time in the world. You were suddenly reminded of your hand placement when he shifted his weight. If your brain didn’t feel like it might leak out of your ears, you would’ve been more impressed with the skillful way you unclipped his codpiece in one swift movement. 

         “You’re getting too good at that,” Fox groaned, rocking into your hand.

         “You only have yourself to blame,” you laughed breathlessly, tracing the shape of his hard length. He surged forward, his finger brushing a devastating spot inside you as his lips slammed into yours, muffling your incoherent cry. 

         “Will–will you let me,” he stammered between kisses, the sloppy roll of his hips growing rougher, “let me fuck you for all of Coruscant to see?” 

         “If–fuck–if you don’t–” you warned, trying to sound commanding, but your ability to form words was quickly narrowing to nothing more than curses and Fox’s name. That seemed to be all the permission he needed though as he licked into your mouth again, the hand that had been buried in your cunt coming up to grip your jaw. In a flurry of movement, you were suddenly facing the expanses of Coruscant, Fox’s warmth pressing against your back as he hiked your skirt up, bunching it around your hips.

         “Put your hands on the window, honey,” he rumbled, brushing his nose against the shell of your ear. You obeyed without a second thought, bracing both your hands against one of the orange panels; your heart fluttered when one of his large hands filled the space beside yours. “I wonder if I’ll be able to see our handprints every time I pass by.”

         The thought that you’d leave behind a reminder, something only you and Fox would know about, had you pushing back into him. He seemed to catch on, unceremoniously tugging his pants down just enough to free his weeping cock, slipping it between your thighs. There was a brief moment where he paused, his tip barely pressing into your folds like he was savoring the buildup before he pushed in. The stretch felt endless, your head falling forward as you panted around soft whimpers until he was fully sheathed. 

         “Stars,” you chuckled, feeling dizzy with how full you were, “almost forgot how big you are.” Fox’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, punching the air from your lungs. His free hands slowly followed the curve of your waist, catching on the flashy fabric of your outfit, pausing briefly to brush a thumb over your covered nipple. A shiver tore through you when his hand gently curled around your throat, never squeezing, only using his grip as a way to hold you in place. 

         “Guess I’ll have to remind you,” he growled, pausing long enough for the words to sink in before he moved. The first thrust tested your ability to hold yourself up but Fox barely gave you a moment to steady yourself before he picked up a brutal pace. If you weren’t so high above the bustling crowds, you might’ve been worried about how you cried out, throwing your head back against Fox’s shoulder. 

         “F-Fox,” you moaned, needing him to hear the desperation pumping through your veins. You mindlessly curled your fingers over the smooth window pane, forcing your eyes open when you met warm skin. Fox’s hand was still braced against the window, your hand half covering his after your frantic scrambling. You were so mesmerized by the sheer size difference that you didn't notice right away when Fox shifted his weight, hitting a spot that made your eyes cross. You blindly grabbed onto the back of his hand, fingers interlacing between his. Fox instinctively closed his hand, pressing your fingertips into the rough skin of his palm. He nuzzled against your cheek, his ragged breathing raising goosebumps along the length of your throat.

         “Fuck, you - you feel so good, cyar’ika” he whimpered, pressing a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to your cheek. You were both spiraling out of control, climbing higher and higher with each galaxy-shattering thrust. Fox’s usually composed attitude was long gone, leaving him just as desperate and pleasure-drunk as you were. The heat building under your skin had reached a scalding level but you just couldn’t seem to fall over the edge.

         “I– I’m so close,” you whispered, turning your head to try and find his lips. Fox mumbled something you couldn’t quite catch before his hand slid over your chest, coming to rest on your stomach. The pressure of his hand made each punch of his cock somehow more explosive, reminding you both just how deep he was; Fox’s strangled moan overlayed with yours, his hips losing their rhythm.

         “Never - fuck -  never leaving you behind again,” he panted, leaning heavily against your back to drop his hand lower. Every muscle in your lower half clenched when his fingers brushed your clit, ripping an unusually loud moan from deep in Fox’s chest. The movements of his fingers were sloppy but you were so lost in the blinding pleasure that it didn’t matter. It finally, finally, crested, throwing you over the edge with a cry of Fox’s name as you gushed around him.

         It only took three more thrusts before Fox went rigid, burying himself to the hilt with a soft, shaky moan. 

         Your thoughts cleared slowly, the fog of arousal melting away as you drifted back down to Coruscant. The empty cupola felt oddly quiet without the slap of skin on skin, leaving you to focus on Fox’s slightly labored breathing. Your eyes drifted back to where your hands were still braced against the stained glass, a small smile lifting the corner of your mouth when you noticed that your hand was still wrapped around Fox’s larger one. Flashing speeder lights caught your attention, drawing your gaze to the traffic zipping past the opera house. 

         “Think anyone saw us?” you wondered absently. Fox laughed, loud and unguarded, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder and the sound alone was enough to make your stomach do a funny little flip.

         “We may never know,” Fox snickered, kissing the base of your neck. The deafening chirp of Fox’s comm brought you crashing back to reality, but you did your best to not let your disappointment show when he reached up to tap a button on his vambrace. “Fox.”

         “Gotta question for you, Commander,” Thorn said in place of a greeting. Fox propped his chin on your shoulder, humming softly when you let your head drop to the side, resting your temple against his. 

         “Yes, Thorn.” There was a pregnant pause, your brows pulling together when you swore you heard a muffle laugh through the channel. 

         “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be in the opera house’s cupola, would you?” Thorn snickered. Your stomach plummeted to your feet while Fox stiffened behind you. There was no denying it since Fox’s cock was still buried inside you. You tilted your head down, searching for a few dots of red in the sea of creatures, easily finding them near the opera house’s entrance. 

         “No,” Fox replied stiffly, only making the situation worse.

         “Oh really?” a slightly different voice huffed. You glanced to the side, arching a brow in question. Fox rolled his eyes but mouthed, Stone, before returning his attention back to the comm. 

         “Heya, senator!” Thorn shouted. You only knew it was him because just as the greeting came through, you saw one of the dots with more red paint raise an arm, waving it wildly.

         “How’d you know?” Fox grumbled, sounding close to pouting in your opinion.

         “We can see your shadows, shit for brains,” Thorn wheezed, barely getting his sentence out between fits of laughter. 

         “Go do your fucking jobs,” Fox snapped, punching the button to end the call a little too hard. You had managed to keep a straight face throughout the call but you were steadily losing the battle against laughter. “I’m glad you find it funny.”

         “I’m surprised you don’t,” you giggled, lightly resting your head against his temple. Fox huffed and hid his face against your shoulder, faintly shaking his head. 

         “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” he groaned, mindlessly squeezing your fingers that were still intertwined with his.

         “About getting caught,” you wondered, letting a smirk pull at the corner of your mouth, “or how hot it looked from their perspective?” Fox sounded defeated as he brought your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

         “Both.” 

Taglist: @techs-feral-wife​ (thank you for your help too Max ❤️)

[yuesgirlfriend]

of birds and honey

(simon "ghost" riley x reader) medieval AU

part 1/part 2/part 3

warnings: canon typical violence, masturbation (afab)

A week passes without much happening.

Excitement over new knights has died down, and the people go back to their regular routine. Wool is spun, gardens are weeded, new straw with sweet smelling sprigs of rosemary is spread over the floor. Peasants in distant fields begin planting and tilling as spring slowly settles into the dreary air. 

 She feigns reading when her father discusses defenses with the Knight Commander Price, hears gossip of French ships breaching southern shores by the kitchens, and overhears one of the knights (Garrick, she heard his name was) express worry about leaked battle plans and French spies. 

She does not see the man called Ghost again, until one afternoon she is practicing embroidery while balanced on a windowsill overlooking the courtyard. 

Shouts sound out from down below- when she glances down, a small crowd has gathered around two figures circling eachother.  

She rushes to the scene when sounds of steel striking steel begin to ring out. Down the stairs, past the hall, through the kitchens, and there he is- Ghost- swinging a blade towards another knight.

 A duel, a duel! Sir Graves and the Ghost!

Says one of the stable boys as the other man- Graves- dodges another strike. She pushes her way to the front of the crowd, needing to see every line of Ghost’s armored body as he grunts and dodges. He moves like he is dancing, brutal and calculated. 

Duels are vicious, bloody ordeals- very few have ever happened under her fathers watch, the clergy under his thumb finding the merciless bloodshed godless. But now her father watches from his balcony as Ghost parries Graves thrust and, with one fluid motion, takes his head. 

Something wet and warm splatters across her face. She doesn’t flinch. 

While Ghost holds the mans head by the helmet and roars warnings of what happens to traitors to the rest of the watching, silent knights and crowd of stunned servants, she stares at the red hot blood splattered across her shoes and silken surcoat and tries to put a name to the feeling coiling in her stomach. 

The sky is streaked with red as the run sets into the horizon, as if God saw the blood in the courtyard and took inspiration. Every sound and color seems muted, unable to break through the buzzing in her ears. She spends the rest of the evening picking flecks of blood off her face, feigning a headache and skipping dinner. 

Her hands don’t stop shaking, and she’s filled with the need to run, to move. Once the sun sets, she slinks out of her room. Favoring the shadows and moving only when sentries are turned away, she makes her way to the highest peak of outer wall. The stars peek over the horizon, the moon hanging above them like a pearl. 

A shiver runs through her when her eyes land on the hulking form standing over the parapet. She moves on soundless, slippered feet towards him. 

“Lady.” He says as if in greeting. How he heard her, she’ll never know. 

“It must be true, what the cook says.” She steps up beside him, overlooking the dark his surrounding the castle, the plains muddled together under the blanket of night. 

“And what is that?” His voice is gruff, his hood up over his masked face. 

“That you have got eyes in the back of your head.” 

That’s the abridged version of what the cook had said; she had overheard the old man telling the maids of rumors he had heard- that the Ghost was the spawn of the devil, a witches son, a biblically deformed creature hiding 9 eyes and countless heads beneath the mask.

Something vindictive and admittedly childish had rose up in her and led to her placing several handfuls of nettles in the cooks bed. 

She refused to feel guilty, even when she spotted the irritated welts on the mans skin the next day- was it not the prophet Amos who said to let justice roll on like a river, and righteousness like a never-failing stream? 

He lets out a huff. Something tells her this is as close to a laugh as he will give her. For a long moment, there is only silence broken by the occasional scurry of a rat, as they stand watching the night where it’s unfolded before them. 

“There’s a storm on it’s way, lady.” His gloved fingers tighten where they grip the stone. She wishes he would turn, so she could see his eyes. “It’d be wise if your father sent you somewhere far.”  

“I’m stronger than I seem- have faith, I can weather any storm, sir. And the stronghold is well defended.” 

“‘S not the stronghold I worry about. It’s the people.” Finally, he turns to face her- in the moonlight, his eyes look like moons themselves, haloed by a dark night of greasepaint. 

“Be careful who you trust, lady.” In one fluid motion, he takes off his cloak and wraps it around her shoulders before bodily turning her away. “Get back inside. You’re father would have my head if I let ya freeze.” 

She follows his orders without question. Maybe he really is a witches son,  she thinks as she slinks back into her quarters. 

The fire is nothing more than a collection of dim coals, now. Wrapping the Ghost’s cloak tighter around herself, she tosses another log onto the fire and crawls into her bed. 

The feeling from earlier that day is back- the tensing, the coiling in her stomach, the heat in her abdomen as if someone is churning her chest over hot coals. Usually venturing out at night cures her of this incessent, shaky need to move, but this time, it had only exacerbated it. 

Squirming around, she buries her nose in his cloak. Ghost’s cloak. It smells of lye soap, wood ash, cold night air.  

Some kind of hot and heavy pressure hangs in her stomach- her thighs rub together, twisted around her sheet, and that seems to help for a moment, but then it gets worse. 

Without thinking, she sends a trembling hand down between her legs- to her womanhood, as her old governess would have said- and adds more pressure. And, oh-  that is new.

She hesitantly moves this wetness around, up and down, until her back arches off the mattress, until she masters this new feeling and she has to bury her moans in the rough frabric of Ghost’s cloak.

[boredzillenial]

Kat und Maus

A spy has gone slightly rogue on her mission, low and behold her team bites off more than she can chew.

Themes: f!main character, 3rd person perspective, spy fic, flirting, SFW (wait wtf this never happens)

A.N: trying something a bit different with this one. Not feeling super confident in my writing atm so lemme know what y’all think ~

“I’m in the compound” She whispers into the mic hidden in her bracelet.

“Remember, The nephew is the target, agent. It’s too dangerous to go after V directly.” Her boss’s voice clips in her ear.

“But -“

“Too. Dangerous.” The tone in his voice left no room for interpretation.

She rolls her eyes, continuing her quick strides up the mansion stairs. “Waste of my time and yours.” Her words come out in a puff of chilly night air. “Good evening - The party is this way yes?” Her well rehearsed German accent trills up to the sentry waiting by the front door. “I still don’t understand why he insists on his guests parking their own damn cars.” She makes a point to huff and roll her eyes as she tosses her jacket in his face.

In a quick succession of movements she slams her heel on his foot, muffles his scream with the thick fabric, and twists him around till her arm snakes around his neck. “Sleep tight…” She coos as his body goes limp.

She drags him into the nearby bushes and rewraps her coat around her bare shoulders. “Told you the jacket trick works” She whispers a little smugly into the receiver on her wrist.

“That should be the last armed guards outside. V doesn’t like guns flashing around his guests - unless he’s doing the flashing.” She trys not to roll her eyes again, oh the egos of men . “Nephew should be on the balcony. Go straight there, secure him and over the edge. The extraction team’s waiting in the water at the base of the cliffs.”

“What is it with the ridiculously wealthy and putting their homes on cliffs.” She whispers, admiring the ornate paintings and museum worthy pieces along the walls and small tables.

“Agent, stay on task.”

“So impersonal. I know you know my name might as well say it.” Her tone clips short to match his.

“Also, what’s with the pseudonym, his name is -“

“Anselm tell that story again!” A mans voice booms from the open doorway just a few feet ahead. A chorus of affirmative chatter rises along with it.

“Oh please, you are embarrassing me. It’s not that entertaining.” Anselm’s raised, singsong German accent rings out like a siren song.

“Agent - stay on-“ Those are the last words she hears before she slips the the earpiece out and down into her brazier.

She rounds the corner slowly, getting the layout of the room and those within. The booming voiced man is standing, drunken smile across his reddened face along with four more strained faces with ingenue smiles across them.

And there, seated at an imperial looking dark wooden desk is her target, Anselm. Seeing him in person struck something different within her. She’d studied the far lensed slightly blur photographs along with his laundry list of a rap sheet- he’s a crime boss, an international thief, a kidnapper, a murder. But the man before her seems, well not all that scary.

Cheers and claps fill the room until Anselm relents “Fine fine - I was down in South America, meeting with some less than friendly constituents when - Why hello there.” He stops as he eyes her leaning in the doorframe “And who might you be my dear.” He stands, never taking his eyes off her.

“Anselm darling I am offended -“ Her accent mirrors his “Have you forgotten our time in Munich already? I know it was years ago and we were both so intoxicated but -“

“Everyone, please leave.” His tone is light despite the unknown expression on his face. Creaking and squeaking fills the space as he makes his way to her.

“But sir -“ The large man begins and quickly halts when Anselm looks his way.

The slight squint of his eyes is all it took, sending everyone else in the room scattering. “Now - yours is a face I would not forget.” He sat slowly on the leather couch, adjusting and patting the empty space beside him. “What is your name madam.”

She rolls her alias with ease “- Do you remember now?” She walks slowly, lengthening her steps to sway her hips. His eyes land perfectly on the motion. “Or perhaps you’d remember, other things about me.” She lowers her voice as she sits beside him.

“I don’t believe -“ The beginning of his question is cut short with the sharp ringing from an old style telephone on his desk “Apologies my dear, duty calls” Once again his voice is light but the slightest moment of concern crossed his features before he stiffly stands.

“No need, I need to powder my nose. Be right back.” She coos over her shoulder. Though she keeps her steps slow with purpose her nerves are alight. She really thought he would be so much more imposing or terrifying given his reputation. But he’s just a man, and the look in his eyes makes something she didn’t care to admit stir low in her belly.

She clicks a little quicker down the back hall and onto the patio, where only silence awaits her. While she glances cautiously around for her original target she digs into her dress.

Already she can hear the soft buzzing of a scream as she retrieves the ear piece from her cleavage and puts it back into place. “-AVE YOU GONE MAD! THERE’S A TEAM HEADED YOUR WAY IN LESS THAN 5 YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THERE!” He screams.

“I made contact with V, I can take him. The nephew is gone.” She hisses.

“ENOUGH! GET TO THE EXTRACTION POINT - THE SECONDARY TEAM WILL RETRIEVE HIM.”

She sighs, shakes her head and carefully jumps over the railing to shimmy down the lattice. “So not worth it, shit.”

She makes her way down the dark expanse of grass and rocks to the extraction team who also look intensely displeased by her change in plan. “Target acquired, heading to base. Ready by 0600 hours for interrogation.”

“Agent, in light of your insubordination. You will remain awake and interrogate the asset once you return.” His words cut into her bruised ego.

“Sir I haven’t slept since -“

“Does it sound, like I care…” his words struggle past his teeth into her ear.

“No, sir.”

“Then sign off. Stay alert….” She pulls the earpiece out and grips it so tightly she snaps the delicate tool into pieces. As she heads off with the team she readies her mind for interrogating the initial target. Some silver spoon punk who was probably kept around as more of a decoration than an asset. Breaking him should be easy enough, but her thoughts stray back to Anselm, the intensity in his gaze and how sure he carried himself, despite the brace…

0600

She walks groggily down the empty hall, gripping onto a hot cup of coffee. This time dressed in casual civilian clothes of Jeans and a Tee she keeps stashed away for emergencies in her locker.

“Can’t believe he’s making me interview this little punk first thing.” She yawns.

“Alright kid - we can do this the easy way or -“ her words cut short in her throat. The slumped form of Anselm tied to the chair in the center of the room.

“Sir,” She clips into her new ear piece “I think you need to see this…”

The minutes pass like lifetimes until finally her boss rounds the corner. “You’ve got to be fucking -“ he growls, whipping the door open, taking a good look, and closing it softly “kidding me…” his final words come out in an exasperated sigh as he rubs his temples. “And this wasn’t you?” He asks without looking up at her.

“Absolutely not sir, I got outta there before the team hit… Did you want me to still do the interrogation?” Her tone shifts to something softer, not wanting to piss her boss off more than he already is.

He whirls on her, “I’ll take you at your word this wasn’t you… But it’s still on you for not containing the original target when you had the chance. When the higher-ups come down on our asses for catching this fucking shark instead of his stupid little nephew, I’m pointing them in your direction unless you get something usable out of him. Understood?”

She nods once “Any limitations?”

“Keep ‘m alive.” He growls before stalking off, a heavy invisible weight on his shoulders.

She steps calmly back into the interrogation room, closing the door a little harder than necessary. Anselm jolts in his chair, eyes squinting as they settle on her. “You again, dangerous little Maus, where have you whisked me to.” He tisks while taking in his surroundings.

“Sorry to disappoint, we don’t have any better accommodations at present.” She sighs and sits a couple feet away in the singular opposing chair. “So tell me Anselm, you feeling okay?” She puts on a saccharine smile.

“Oh my dear you know the ropes aren’t very comfortable.” He wiggles a bit to test them. Looks like the team had decided on simple restraints on his ankles, torso and wrists. “And you’re american? Such a pity.” He tuts.

She crosses her legs and takes a long sip of her coffee.

Anselm eyes the cup, licking his lips for a moment then meeting her gaze again. “Uncomfortable chair, no refreshments, not even a table to negotiate.”

“Oh well see that’s where you’ve not quite caught up. We aren’t negotiating, this is more of well, let’s call it a knowledge seeking interview.”

“Darling, I think I know what an interrogation room looks like. But why bring me here hmm?” He quirks up a brow “I do say you would’ve gotten whatever you wanted in that slick little number you were wearing in earlier. But, you Americans do love your Blue Jeans…”

“I don’t think my clothes will prevent me from learning what I wanna know.” She takes another long sip, enjoying that little lip lick of his again. “Thirsty?”

Anselm chuckles softly, “Very, would you mind?”

“Oh not at all,” She stands slowly “You help me, I’ll help you. How’s that sound. Little quid pro quo.”

“What do you want to know my dear.” He eyes her as she makes her way to him. That dark gaze grazes over her.

“Well for starters, that mansion of yours.” She queries casually “Why along a cliff?”

“This is what the American Goverment wishes to know?”The lilt in his voice coaxes the faintest smirk to her lips.

“This is what I wish to know. Consider this the quid” she encourages.

“Well, for the view of course.” He shrugs.

“Huh… how boring.” She sighs “but fair is fair.” She takes her coffee cup and brings it to his lips “I’m sure you don’t mind sharing.” In reality, this was a test, just how far she could get away with him. If he would share a drink with her, there may be some trust. Trust leads to answers.

“Not at all,” He murmurs as she tilts the cup, he drinks deep for a moment before she pulls it away. “Thank you my darling, in fact I prefer it. You know how it is after people try to poison you. After the first few you only eat or drink after others have, ahaha.” There it is again, that strange little giggle.

“Can’t say I do, but good to keep in mind.” She shakes her head a moment, setting the coffee cup on the floor beside his chair and getting comfortable in her own. “Now, I’ve got a few questions if you don’t mind.”

“Anything my dear.”

“Tell me about the weapons trade, how’s everything going hmm? I hear the Russians have really been giving you a hard time.” She eyes him while crossing her legs, foot bouncing casually.

“Okay, almost anything.” He coughs, “You understand I cannot discuss such matters with you my dear. Despite your beauty and statuesque figure.”

Is he still flirting? Is he serious? She decides to test it. “Aww Anselm, you’ve disappointed me.” She tuts as she stands, walking past him to a nearby table laid with all sorts of instruments to help loosen one’s tongue. “I thought you’d make this easy for both of us.”

“My darling, nothing with me is easy. You’ll come to enjoy that I hope.” He try’s to turn, unable to get her into his peripheral.

“I’m not one for puzzles, or games,” she comes around to face him, twirling a set of pliers in her hand “And to be brutally honest I’m not the best when it comes to patience.”

He eyes the instrument in her hand for a moment before his gaze roams over her body again. “Now that is truly a use for me. Teaching you patience, it is one of life’s greatest pleasures.” His tone shifts low, sultry.

She decides to lean in, a hand on either arm and her face just inches from his, “Do you think you’re in much of a position to teach me anything right now?” Her tone drops low to meet his.

“My dear, things can change so quickly you know.” His eyes flicker down to her lips, “It would make things so much easier for you to play nice.”

She leans back and barks out a laugh. “You can’t be serious right now. You are in a hidden bunker in for all you know the damn ocean. I pull out pliers and you don’t so much as bat an eye?”

“Don’t let my own handsomeness fool you, you must not know who you are dealing with to think such a simple tool would frighten me.” Anselm is deadly calm as he speaks. Somehow, despite him being the one tied to a chair authority radiates from him. “I do urge you, untie me now and save yourself some trouble later feisty maus.”

She’s about to put her tool to work when the door behind her bursts open. In an instant someone is on her, choking her from behind and lifting her high enough her feet no longer touch the ground. She claws and kicks to no avail as two more men sweep in and quickly release Anselm from his bindings.

“Don’t kill her, I like this one.” His words cut through her choking gasps and for a moment the grip around her throat loosens. “A little lower.”

The arms around her lower till they are face to face again. She’s clinging onto consciousness by a thread, her ears ringing and limbs going limp.

Anselm drags his thumb over her lower, “beautiful feisty maus, rest up. When you wake it will be your turn to help me.” He gives a quick nod and that grip tightens again. The last thing she hears is indistinguishable words in his short tone. The final sensation is the gentle brush of fingers across her cheek as her world fades into darkness.

———————————

Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie4art @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar @queerponcho @for-a-longlongtime @silvernight-m

[masked-fools]

❝ your old buddy sampo is a model citizen these days. y'know the guards on sentry duty in the restricted zone? i deliver their breakfast every day! ❞

— Sampo Koski, ancient relic specialist

Tavern Notice Board

28th of August — 3rd of September

(1) Flirty Pick-Up Lines [Gepard, Dan Heng, Welt] — @cnnmairoll

reader uses flirty pick up lines on them after getting into a relationship

(2) Just Don't Say Love [Blade] — @pyroxeene

he sought you out whenever the pain got too much to handle. he didn't want to know what that made you; feared the day you would ask him how he felt.

(3) Like Me Better [Dan Heng] — @eggluverz

you want to braid dan heng's hair and he wonders if you like him better in this form.

(4) Harmony In The Moonlight [Caelus] — @cnnmairoll

him serenading you outside your balcony

(5) The Sedative [Dan Heng] — @pyroxeene

after you got hurt in the battle on the xianzhou, the doctors need to do an endoscopy on you. still under the influence of the sedative when you wake up, you think it's a wonderful idea to call dan heng and make your feelings clear to him.

(6) Silver Tongue, Golden Heart [Sampo] — @cnnmairoll

with a naive reader who has a very positive image of him

(7) Something Shiny This Way Comes [Dan Heng] — @eggluverz

dan heng wants to face part of his past by walking around xianzhou luofu with you, but he freaks out when he notices you are no longer by his side.

(8) First Snow, New Hope [Pela, Bronya, Serval, Hook, Clara] — @leonistic

platonic headcanons of how you spend your winters with them in belobog

(9) Noodle [Dan Heng] — @generalsmemories

an evening of you getting familiar with dan heng's true form leads to the birth of an unique nickname - he doesn't complain though.

(10) I Had The Best Day With You Today [Jing Yuan, Blade, Dan Heng, Gepard] — @particular-one

how they would plan + surprise you on your birthday.

(11) After All This Time [Dan Heng] — @eggluverz

you were the great imbibitor lunae's disciple. he trusted you with his life and you with his. but when the time came, you weren't able to save him. what happens when you run into his reincarnation years down the line?

(12) Love Bites [Blade, Jing Yuan] — @cnnmairoll

with a lover who's love language is biting

(13) Sparks Of Enthusiasm [Gepard, Tingyun, Welt] — @cnnmairoll

with a very energetic reader

(14) A Haven In Your Arms [Blade] — @bladesmuse

it is late, and you come home from your mission exhausted. thankfully, your doting boyfriend Blade is there to look after you.

(15) Bearing The Burden [Blade] — @cnnmairoll

reader is having a hard time due to challenging life circumstances and is incredibly stressed because of it, but is constantly putting on a brave face for blade

(16) The Moles' Beloved Miss [Luka] — @cnnmairoll

luka x fem!reader where luka sees reader taking care of the moles and he just gets this very homey and fluffy feeling within him

(17) Them Being Clingy [Sampo, Dan Heng] — @ryker-others

dan heng and sampo being clingy

(18) Waking Up At Night And You Aren't By His Side [Blade] — @milksnake-tea

when he wakes up in the middle of the night, and you aren't by his side. + "please, stay. just… stay."

(19) Finding My Voice With You [Jing Yuan] — @cnnmairoll

with a reader who often gets talked over and feels like their voice is annoying

[drenchedfireworks]

Of Stolen Moments

Helion X Lady of the Autumn

One of the thousands of stolen moments between Helion and Lady of the Autumn before Under The Mountain.

Word Count: 3.2K

Mostly unedited.

Rhysand is purple (obvs) and Helion is orange.

###

Helion picked another flute of champagne from the passerby waiter, his third one in ten minutes.

In his defense, it took much, much more to get him tipsy and Cauldron be damned, he was trying to get there.

Coming to the Autumn Court always had that effect on him. Beron loved throwing lavish parties the week of his birthday and while all the HighLords were invited to stay the entire week, by some unspoken agreement everyone only arrived on the eve of his birthday and left the next morning.

This year, Helion had been tempted to pull lots and the whichever poor minister of his pulled the shortest end of the stick would have attended as a representative. The idea was vetoed and he had been sent to the hellish court to participate in the even more hellish celebrations anyway. The only saving grace was the fact that it was a masquerade theme which meant Helion had all the reason to not have to greet Beron and simply blame it on the fact that he hadn't recognized him under the masks.

And Helion was going to stick to his story even if it was crystal clear who Beron was considering he sat on a freaking dais, all alone.

Finishing the contents of his champagne flute in one go, Helion was about to go for another one when a whiskey glass was placed in his palm instead.

If he was dressed like the Sun, all whites and golds with the matching white mask with its gold undertone and threads, Rhysand was dressed like his night counterpart. Decked out completely in black with silver linings in his jacket and a midnight black mask resting on his face outlined in silver that was only found on starlight.

"Stop playing safe sober games and drink up"

Helion chuckled, raising his glass to that and throwing it back in one gulp. Rhys grinned, tipping his own glass in cheers before he, too, finished his drink in one go.

"Can you believe this pretentious party?"

Rhys shot him a look, easy to decipher despite the mask he was wearing. "You think this is the only pretentious party we attend in one year?"

"You're right. Tamlin's are just as awful"

Rhys laughed sardonically before making a shuddering gesture "Somehow they are even worse. It's like an invite for pollen fever"

"Where is your lovely cousin?" Helion asked, eyes roaming around like he was searching for a blonde and not trying to avoid looking at a certain redhead.

"With Vivianne" Rhys jut his chin in the direction of where Morrigan and Vivianne were standing next to an exasperated Kallias who rolled his eyes behind his mask exaggeratedly when he found the two Highlords looking at him.

"Think you can take Morrigan away for enough time to let Kallias grab a dance with the girl he swears he's not in love with?" Helion snickered, flagging down a waiter carrying champagne.

"I can also keep an eye on Beron for enough time so you can do what you actually came here for"

Helion paused in the act of taking a sip, slanting a look to the Highlord of the Night Court who casually picked off a piece of non-existent lint off his jacket.

"And what might that be, dear Rhysand?"

"Don't insult my intelligence by pretending to be obtuse, Helion" Rhys smiled, feline-like. "This is the only bracket you might get, don't waste it"

"Who is to say where she is and how many sentries surround her?" Helion gritted out, despite his better judgement.

Rhys smiled, patted him on the shoulder and made his way toward Kallias. Helion watched him go, turned the other way and made his way deeper into the crowd.

On the East Wing, on the 2nd floor, last room. Shares a balcony with the adjacent one. You'll have a ten minute window to slip into that room. I'll let you know if Beron so much as shifts in his seat.

Helion smiled, a secret one. I owe you one.

Stop bothering Cassian and Azriel for a threesome.

Aw, Rhysie, jealous? You can join us too.

Don't forget to put up wards.

Helion made sure he was in Beron's line of sight as he danced with a curvaceous red-head, running hands all over her too-eager intoxicated body. A few minutes of dilly-dallying and then he was leading her into a corridor, through a silent hallway and away from the festivities till they finally encountered an empty bedroom. To her credit, she tried her hardest to pull him in but Helion sent a silent apology to her as he put her under a sleeping spell, warded that room so no one could enter and silently made his way to the other side of the mansion.

Glamouring himself as he passed Autumn Court sentries so no one would recognize him, Helion made it to the East Wing in record time. When he reached the second floor, however, his steps slowed. One of the sentries turned to him, head lolled at an uncomfortable angle, looking at him as if he was seeing right through him. Helion slipped into the adjacent room.

He made quick work of climbing over the balcony into the adjacent room's. Wards, he told himself as he silently put those up. He couldn't trust himself to remember to put those up after he laid eyes on her. Wasn't sure he'd remember to do anything.

Unlocking the balcony door, he stepped inside the candlelit room just as she stepped in through the connecting doorway.

Their eyes met and for a moment, the world went still. Her breath caught, he could hear it, her hand flying to her chest.

"You shouldn't be here-" She started toward him the same time he moved toward her.

"Seraphina" He breathed, one second before her mouth was on his and he was kissing her for all the years spent apart, all the yearning.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling him closer as he ran his hands over everywhere he could touch, trying to familiarize himself with her all over again, worried that this was one of his cruel nightmares where she'd disappear come morning.

"Helion-" She whispered, but Helion didn't stop kissing her to give her a chance to say more "Helion-" She tried again, but he took that chance and plunged his tongue in her mouth, the force of the kiss making her knees weak and his arms around her body the only thing keeping her up "Heli-" She gave up, kissing him back with all the desperation she felt.

"Sera" He breathed, moving from her lips to her cheeks, her nose, eyes, forehead and jaw, anywhere he could reach to kiss her, hands in her hair and around her waist and on her back, scared their time would be up.

"What are you doing here?" And it broke his heart to see she looked worried not for what Beron might do if he found her with another man but for him.

"Ten years" He cupped her face, bringing his forehead down to hers "Ten years I've dreamt of holding you in my arms again" She was crying before he was done talking but so was he.

"You shouldn't be here. He- He can't find you"

Wrapping his arms around her, Helion picked her up and carried her to the bed "I know" He said, sitting on the edge and bringing her down on his lap.

She took his face in her hands, lovingly running her fingers over his cheeks and lips, his eyebrows, the slant of his nose before she moved in to kiss him again "How I've missed you"

And it was as if they couldn't stand to stay clothed for one more second as Helion began undoing her robe and she was pulling at his tunic, while he kissed a path down her throat, biting and nibbling against the skin knowing he'd have to heal it before he left. Knowing she'd have to mask his scent before Beron came to check on her.

Realizing they didn't have that much time to waste, Helion simply loosened his pants, pulling his cock out and positioned himself below her.

"Sera, are you sure?"

She leaned in once and kissed him "Give me all of you, Helion"

Driving into her to the hilt in one go, Helion bit her shoulder to hold in the roar that was building at the base of his throat. Her breath had caught and her legs were trembling but the scent of her arousal was thick in the air, mixing with his own.

He gave her a moment to adjust "I've missed you so much" Helion was soothing the spot he'd bit on with his tongue "This is not how I wanted to do it. I want to do it right, Sera"

"We don't have that time, Helion" Tears were forming in her eyes and the string around his chest tightened, pulling taut against his ribs "But we will" She kissed his brow "And when we do, we will do all of it right" Moving her hips, she pulled a groan of long-suffering from him as he started to move inside of her slowly.

"You feel so good" Helion gritted out, his pace quickening, his movements feral and his thrusts almost animalistic. He was tapping into his beast side, using centuries of his training to hold off on shooting into her like he was a pubescent teenager. She met him for every thrust, arms wrapped tightly around him, lips hovering over his own as her breaths shortened.

"Helion.." Her fingernails were digging into his shoulder "Helion, I'm so…so.." The rest of her words dissolved into a moan that Helion swallowed as he kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth in sync with his thrusts.

Holding her by her thighs, Helion made quick work of picking her up and flipping them over. Bringing her ankles over on his shoulders, he was enveloped completely in her warmth, her walls impossibly tight around him and driving him half mad. Wrapping her arms around him again, she brought him down to kiss her as his movements turned frantic, one hand on her belly where he could feel himself inside her.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful" Biting her jaw, his movements turning frantic as he reached a hand between them, rubbing circles on her clit as she whimpered. Helion gritted out "Come for me, Sera" He was kissing her, speaking against her lips, one hand pulling on her nipple peeking out of her robe "Come for me, love"

And she did. Legs trembling, shivering and shaking, Helion swallowed her scream as he kissed and fucked her through her orgasm, his fingers working her up all over again till the tears in her eyes were those of pleasure and she was chanting his name like a prayer.

Helion pretended not to notice the glow of his skin, the string that was pulling uncomfortably inside his chest, groaning while he held himself back as Seraphina moaned loudly, her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Please..please…HelionHelionHelionHelion- oh my-" She was already coming a second time and this time Helion detonated with her, shooting into her without stopping, pulling back only to watch his own cum dripping down her legs mixed with her own. Gathering all of it, he pushed it back into her pussy as he pulled out, a whimper escaping her at the loss.

Helion leaned in to kiss her “I’m kidnapping you” He whispered against her lips, something he’d been saying for decades, trying to get her to agree to disappear with him.

Shaking her head, Seraphina rested her forehead against his “I can’t leave my sons alone with him..he treats them horribly as it is” At that she broke down, sobbing in earnest as he held her, running his fingers through her hair and pulling her against his chest.

“And you?” Helion managed to ask, his eyes catching the bruising against her arms where her robe sleeves had fallen back. Eyes narrowing on them as Seraphina quickly covered them “I’m going to kill him”

“No, Helion” She brushed her fingers against his face as if she, too, was memorizing his face for she didn’t know how long it would be before they got a chance to be together again.

“Mate, Sera” His voice broke, catching at the word “You’re my mate” Her eyes closed as if the reminder pained her, shoulders shaking with silent sobs “I will adopt all your sons if that’s what it takes”

Helion.

Ignoring Rhysand’s voice in his head, Helion took both of her hands in his “Say yes and you don’t have to suffer at his hands for a second longer”

Seraphina pulled her hands back, crying against his shoulder “You should go, Helion. P-Please” But she was kissing him, her actions a complete contrast to her words.

“Sera-”

Helion, Beron’s sentries are alert.

“Go” Wiping at her tears, she stood up, putting much needed distance between them "And thank Rhysand for me"

“Sera- please”

Beron seems to be looking for you.

She turned her back to him, like she had done countless times “I-" She began, considered her words “I-It’s not the time..b-but-” She peeked over her shoulder at him “Please wait for me?”

He was hugging her then, wrapping all of himself around her as he buried his face in her hair “Forever. I will wait another millenia just for you”

Helion. Beron is leaving the banquet hall.

“I have to go” He murmured and she nodded, refusing to watch him go or her control would snap “Stay safe, please take care..I-I’ll try to come back soon” With one last squeeze, he let her go, turning around and leaving immediately or he’d have been tempted to follow through with his earlier plan of kidnapping the Lady of another court as he removed the wards, wiped her room clean of his scent.

Helion, where the fuck are you?

Out.

By out he meant jumping the two floors down from the balcony, so distracted that he had no time to smoothen the fall and dropped straight into a bush, the poor plant flattening under him. Helion had no time to complain, making his way hastily toward the banquet hall hoping he didn’t encounter the birthday boy. For Seraphina’s sake more than his own.

His escape was going successfully until he ran straight into another problem. More like the problem ran into him.

The youngest Vanserra scowled up at the Highlord of the Day Court, rubbing against his forehead where he had accidentally collided with Helion’s side.

Crouching down to reach his level, Helion held an arm out to inspect the damage “Does it hurt a lot?”

“Even if it does, as the Highlord with healing abilities, shouldn’t you be able to soothe it?”

Helion opened his mouth, closed it, utterly and completely speechless before he threw his head back and laughed “Listen here, boy, I’m Helion Spell-Cleaver, Highlord of the Day Court”

“And?”

“And?” Helion gaped “You are talking about Thesan”

“You’re not Thesan?”

“Ofcourse not. Having even 1/4th of my looks would be a blessing for him”

The youngest Vanserra looked unimpressed “Atleast he doesn’t announce himself with a title” he muttered.

Helion blinked, realizing that the little boy who hardly looked to be 8-9 years old, had known who he was this whole time “Who are you?”

At that, the little boy jut his chin out, his aristocratic nose high in the air as he replied “Lucien Vanserra, son of Beron, Highlord of the Autumn Court”

Helion smiled at the arrogance that looked like it was hereditary in the Vanserra household, noticing how Lucien’s hair color was similar to Seraphina’s “Well, Sir Lucien, while I cannot heal your injury as well as Thesan can, I could do something better”

To his credit, Lucien tried not to look too intrigued as he kept a straight face “I doubt it but let’s hear it”

He even had Seraphina’s stubbornness, Helion noted with amusement as he gently took Lucien’s hand in his, sidelining the zap that went through his body and the goosebumps on his skin “I can show you a spell that won’t make you feel hurt at all”

At that, Lucien turned his entire attention to the Highlord, his voice betraying his excitement “How?”

"You do this" Helion drew the symbol on Lucien's palm to demonstrate.

Eyes lighting up, Lucien watched entraced before taking Helion's palm in his and trying to replicate the symbol "Like this?"

Helion corrected it for him, holding his hand and drawing it over his palm again "Like…this"

Lucien looked like he had achieved enlightenment as he laughed, doing and redoing the symbol to make sure he got it right "You're sure this works, right? Right?!"

"Go ahead, try it on me" Helion held his arm out and while he was sure even without the spell, little Lucien wouldn't be able to do much harm he gave him his best weary look "Go easy on me"

"Nuh uh" Lucien tutted, pulling his fist back and swinging with full force, the hit not registering in the slightest.

"See?" Helion asked "What do you think?"

"You could be lying" The amber-eyed prince was not having it "Go ahead, you try it on me now"

Helion worried he might actually end up bruising the kid if he used even a tenth of his energy so he chose to go the easy path and flicked his forehead. Hands flying to his forehead, Lucien pulled them away a second later, his face a kaleidoscope of awe and disbelief.

"I-It didn't hurt at all!" He was jumping around now, making flicking gestures and little punching actions.

"This will come in handy when your older brothers push you around, huh?" Helion teased, a smile breaking on his face replicating Lucien's.

"Nah" Lucien was still in the middle of his happy dance "I’m gonna teach it to my Mom" When Helion's smile dropped, Lucien realized what he had accidentally divulged.

Immediately recognizing that the little boy was about to panic, Helion decided to do instant damage control even if his blood boiled at the reminder of Seraphina's bruises "You're too strong when you playfight with your mother and she needs to be shielded?"

Lucien latched on to the excuse with desperate hands "Yep. I'm going to be stronger than all my brothers one day!"

"That's very commendable" Helion nodded along "However, take care of your mother and don't hurt her. That's not how good sons behave. You have to protect her"

Lucien was silent for a moment before he stepped away "L-Like I need you to tell me! I will protect my mother from everyone!" He was getting flustered and Helion knew it so he stood up and dusted off the dirt on his clothes.

"You're a good boy, Lucien. I'm proud of you"

"I don't care!" Lucien turned away, walking toward one of the entrances too quickly before he seemed to second guess himself and turned back toward Helion "Thanks..for your help"

Helion grinned, all toothy and cocky "You're welcome, little Lucien"

"I'll come visit you in Dawn Court sometime!" Lucien turned away and was already running, an all too familiar mischievous smile on his face.

"I'm the Highlord of the Day Co-! Ah damnit" Helion laughed as Lucien disappeared around the corner, something in his chest warming.

Helion stood there for a long time before he turned and made his way back to the party to pester his favorite Highlord, thoughts of his mate and her youngest son still fresh in his mind, his heart full.

###

My contribution to the Helion X LoA community because I don't see a lot of fanfics on this pairing (or maybe I'm looking at all the wrong places). This is a plea to send all and every Helion X LoA fanfic my way.

[shroudandsands]

Prompt #23: On Cloud Nine

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” Her fool’s gold gaze flicked up towards him. He was sitting on the edge of her balcony. She didn’t ask how he got there. “…Sure. Why not?”

The plaza outside the residential unit was empty, clear, and blessedly free of any of the sentries on patrol. Pyrite was kicked back on a bench with a drink from the Vue in her hand, lazily watching him with a raised brow and a constant question resting on her lips. It went unsaid, of course, as he stood a little ways before her and stared up towards the top of the building. Inspecting, waiting. He clicked his tongue. “Alright. Surveillance gone- You just hang out down here, yeah?” He gave her a thumbs-up and an award winning smile that hadn’t quite gained all the years that would come. “I promise it won’t take long.” “Sure, Gal, I’ll wait. Long as you don’t expect me to follow you up there. Or you don’t come down with somethin’ that’s gonna get the Queen asking us where our minds went…” All she got back was a wink. She sighed.

He was already scrambling up the side of the building before she could say anything else. He wasn’t normally much of a law-breaker. No reason to be in his life. But there was one law he took great glee in disrespecting at every opportunity- As he flung himself from the bottom of a wall to its top ledge with nothing but his fingertips and toes he gave a loving curse to gravity trying to keep him on the ground. A surveillance drone’s engines whined underneath him as he slipped into a nook that barely fit him. Just enough to hide from its gaze as it swung around the building; then upon finding nothing worth looking at, it chirped and swerved to fly off towards the overpass that lay high above them. He tried not to laugh. Tried not to wave at it as it went. Another floor up, another terrace, now he was really getting into the weeds. Portions that were never really meant for some random people to be climbing on. Or standing on. Or just being near. He was fairly certain most of the top side of the building was maintained by drones and sentries judging by how little of it seemed to be made accessible from the inside. Fine with him- In fact. That’s exactly why he was here. It was a pretty important part of Solution 9- and Everkeep as a whole, really- that each level was independently capable of maintaining its atmospheric conditions. Everything from air quality to humidity, temperature to air movement. And most of it was controlled by behemoth structures of electrope that were the near-constant subject of surveillance, maintenance, and updates. While he found these gargantuan machines to be truly magnificent wonders of technology, he had a more grounded focus. A smaller scale idea in mind. The selfsame machines had smaller, localized, and specialized variants spread out throughout Solution 9. Many of which adorned the top and sides of buildings and structures- Especially the residential buildings. While no access was available, really, from the insides there was no reason to restrict them from the outside. Nobody sane was gonna climb the damn thing to get to them. And even if they did, what were they gonna do? Not like they had much in the way of controls, right?

As Galena slipped his flat-knife between the body of the machine and the maintenance panel he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him. He was, frankly, insane enough to do it. Especially for something like this.

“Hey, Pyre,” Came the crackle of his voice over her earpiece. She blinked out of the daze she’d fallen into before cocking her head and looking up. She couldn’t see him. “Yeah? You in trouble… wherever you’re at?” “Nope, just wanted to ask you a question.” She sat there for a moment, her jaw set. “As long as it ain’t the one I’m thinkin’ of.” He returned the momentary silence. “Remember when I was readin’ off those old sensor reports to ya?”

She clicked her tongue as her brow furrowed. She set down the drink she’d been ignoring and took in a breath as she tried to recall- That was years ago now, wasn’t it? They’d been assigned together. She was his guard, he was the scavenger. Get into an old monitoring station and take everything- even the wiring in the walls. Honestly it hadn’t been much of a memorable day. The rain was heavy but the lightning was merciful. “…Yeah…? You found some old storage or whatever and got really excited about… weather reports? I remember it was somethin’ about the rain.” The confident sound of his laugh came crackling through. “Yeah, the rain. Really old rain and weather reports that I don’t think anybody else would care for. But do you remember the specifics of why I was so happy to find ‘em?”

He didn’t need to see her face to know what expression she made. She didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning ear to ear.

A drop of water hit her on the head. She shielded her eyes as she looked up- Another, then another. The smell of rain filled the plaza, the taste of it filling the artificial lawn, the sight of it spilling across the walkways, the feeling of a light summer shower that hadn’t graced much else in so many a year, the scent of petrichor filling her head like a drug. But the sunlight of Everkeep’s sky-high life still glinted down. Galena’s voice crackled again as she stood in it, dumbfounded by him as she watched him descend down the side of the building giddy like a kid on his birthday. He was soaked. He was laughing. He was laughing the whole way down. “Sunshowers, Rite!”

[shadowscrybe]

Rayven's Revenge- Chapter 1

Man I haven't made one of these posts in so long. Bear with me as I try to remember how to format this shit.

Summary: Rayven is the younger sister of Rhysand in the Night Court. She was banished 64 years ago for the murder of her sister. This is the story of Rayven earning her place in Prythian and finding out what it means to be family. We all know how her story ends...but how did she get there? I don't want to forget the demon princess with bat wings. Do you?

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none-typical canon content

A/N: Uhhhhh. I have annoyed my friends talking about this fic for weeks and I think its time to start annoying all of you. I worked very hard on this, put my whole writussy into this, but feedback is always appreciated. This was mine for so long. Now its yours. Enjoy.

Morning light had begun to crest over the horizon when Rayven met with her returning shadow. Streams of warmth slipped in through the thin curtains of the small cottage, melting the coolness of the night off her wings. The long hours of the night had to be beautiful in the Night Court, but Rayven had found something special in witnessing its beauty while the rest of the court slept. The cottage she shared with her mother just outside of the Windhaven camp of Illyria was an inferior copy of the home her brother and his friends shared across the mountains decades ago in their youth, but it was the only home she knew. The Highlord had said it was more than the banished princess deserved. 

Rayven had the misfortune of being born a few decades after everything important, it seemed. She was a few decades short of her first hundred years, but that didn't matter to the boys- and especially not the Highlord- who would always see her as a young fae. The boys were completing their first full cycle the coming moon, and the bastards were getting their siphons later that week, something the Night Court heirs could covet together. 

The coming celebrations loosened her restraints with the Highlord and her presence in Velaris would be necessary for the next few weeks. Rayven was only to make appearances when it was appropriate for the court. The Highlord could only stomach the demon long enough for the required court affairs. When she wasn't galavanting at parties or silently simmering in council meetings, she was to remain in Illyria. 

Following the poorly executed coup Kallon’s lord and father organized, Rayven took Ironcrest as her own. If the Highlord wanted it back he was welcomed to try. She considered appealing to the Highlord to move closer to her camp, but her luck had been pushed and she enjoyed the flight across the other camps anyway. It kept her on top of the movements of the other camps, especially Windhaven. 

Her mother lived in Velaris by all official accounts, but after the boys finished their fifth decade, she found more and more reasons to be in Illyria. She didn't have daemati powers like Rhysand and Rayven, but she wouldn't have needed them to know the day would be hard for Rayven. It’d be hard for her mother too. 

Rayven focused her breathing as she straightened her leathers, hoping to the stars she strapped them correctly. She navigated the path up to her upper level balcony and stretched her wings in the open space. She loosely braided her dark hair down her back to give her nervous hands something to do. 

Her singular shadow, Rahne, returned from her morning scan of the camps, whispering about sentry positions, some kitchen gossip, but nothing out of the ordinary. 

She needed reports of her normal flight patterns to reach the boys in order to accomplish what she needed to do. Rahne had warned her a second too late when she had ascended her rail to plunge off the side of her nest when he appeared. 

“Going somewhere?” The shadowsinger said.

Rhane was quicker than his shadows, but his were silent. She raced the wing length between them to meet with his many shadows. 

Rayven groaned and fell off the side. He turned to level out as she caught a drift back up to him. His laugh carried over the wind. 

“Aren't we pleading our case to Devlon today, or did I get my dates mixed up again?” 

The rising sun kissed their wings in greeting. He’d at least let her fly to the Windhaven border. 

He allowed her a few strides before he said, “The Highlord asked that you stay here. It will be hard enough for us to convince him as is.”

‘Asked’ was a very nice way of putting it. 

The boys had lived a full human lifetime that lunar cycle, so they were certain they knew everything there was to learn and she was a naive first cycle fae. They were meeting with Devlon to discuss their participation in the Rite that spring. She’d been training alongside them nonstop for months. Rhys told her it was important for her to have the training regardless of her participation in the Rite. 

Of course, Devlon would never allow a female to participate. While Rhys had previously been denied for being a half-breed, as Devlon put it, he could still persuade the Lord of Windhaven. Rayven, on the other hand, had the misfortune of being a half-breed and a female. The worst crime to the Illyrian brutes with ways as archaic as the mountains surrounding them.

The drifted over the path to the camp only used by the clipped females. Rayven shuddered at the thought of losing her wings to these males. 

“Hey,” the shadowsinger said, as if he could hear her thoughts. “We’ll find another way.” The tip of his wing barely brushed against hers. She stopped the shiver in her shoulders. 

The males were always fighting over wingspan. They had more surface area, stronger for single thrust flight and carrying cargo, but the females were faster. Their wings were made for speed and agility. What took the males three muscle groups to turn on a pin, the females could do it with one. Sure, they were able to carry full grown males for miles, but the females were able to fly that same distance twice in the time it’d take them.

“Am I allowed to say it?” he asked. 

“No.”

He tried to brush her wings again, so she folded hers in and dropped, parachuting her wings out in the final descent to land her feet on the stony path. They were within a few minutes of Devlon’s council tent. 

“Why can't I go and beat some respect into that bastard?” she asked. 

“You know why,” he sighed into his landing. 

“The Highlord can make them submit and listen.” Her frustration began to manifest in her movements. Rahne started whispering calm over and over to her. “Hel, I could easily change their minds.” She wiggled her fingers at him. 

He rolled his eyes at the violence she suggested. “We’d lose every Illyrian allegiant we have,” he said. He was trying. Really trying. 

Tears welled in the demon’s eyes. “This is so stupid.” Her gaze was set in the direction of the tent she’d never be inside, knowing this was where he’d leave her. 

“We’ll find another way,” he repeated. The hand by his thigh tensed, and then he was stepping back to take off. 

“I’ll fill you in when I get back?” He spread his wings to depart. 

She took in the mass of the shadowsinger before her. Even without the siphon, he was truly something to be feared. 

She mumbled a fine and met his eyes. He jumped into flight, sending one shadow back to lick at her wet cheek.

“Gross,” she swatted it away and could almost hear its giggle as it returned to Azriel. 

She watched as he grew smaller in the distance, until finally, he winked out of eyesight. 

She wiped her eyes free of the crocodile tears and turned to her real destination. 

Dumbass, Rahne snickered, expanding for their departure. 

Rayven smiled at her little shadow, stepping through her dark threshold onto the crisp lawns of the Autumn Court. 

[courtofthrones]

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

Summary: What happens when two people who are the opposite ends of a thread of fate try to get the other end of the thread to burn knowing they would burn too. Because he was the throne but she will see the throne burn.

A/N: Feedback appreciated

..................................................................................

STAGE VI: BENEATH THE SKIN

"Where do you want me to put this my lady?"

"You can just leave it in my room Lyna."

After finally having some well deserved rest in the past few days, you watched the sentries and some of the Autumn princes spar with each other on the training grounds with a relaxed posture from your balcony. Though you couldn't help but notice the absence of your soon to be husband in the group. Well you couldn't be mad about it because being away from his smug but annoyingly attractive face and his infuriating behaviour these past few days have certainly made your day quite peaceful.

The morning atmosphere was bright but held its usual chill in the air.

Future Lady of the Autumn Court. It wasn't as though you hated it . Once it was all you had dreamt of . To marry and become a Lady who could work for her subjects. But over time and tribulations that little girl turned bitter from having her loving family torn apart. And marrying for political alliances into a family who could never get rid of the blood stains on their hands, did not sit right with you.

"Forgive me my lady but the Lady Aelia has asked you to join her for afternoon tea in her solar." Lyna spoke softly behind you in order to preserve the tranquility surrounding you.

"Is my mother going to be there Lyna?"

"No my lady her grace has only asked for your presence."

For the last few days the lady of autumn court, Lady Aelia Vanserra has extended her gracious invite to you and your mother to join her and other ladies of the court.

And unsurprisingly your mother has managed to turn every single conversation towards boasting about your pending nuptials in front the other ladies in waiting so may the mother forgive you if you wish to avoid her because of it. But it seems like Lady Aelia shares the same thought as you.

"Accompany me will you Lyna."

---

Making an exit from your room you followed Lyna into the open hallway. True to all its praises The Forest House was a sight to behold in the golden hues of the afternoon sunlight. Golden carpets made from the finest of materials lined the pathway.

As your nose took in the smell of sandalwood and burning wood, your eyes found themselves observing the numerous paintings nailed to the gilded walls. There between the paintings of life and death lay a family portrait of the High Family dating back to about 500 years.

You could gather that the painting was to commemorate the birth of the exiled prince of the court - Lucien Vanserra held by his mother with the High Lord sitting beside her. Behind him stood Eris Vanserra , your betrothed with a rehearsed smile on his face. Regal and youthful. Despite the appealing faces of the rest of the princes surrounding the High couple , your eyes found themselves incapable of straying from the captivating allure of your soon to be husband.

Your husband. You forced yourself to tear your eyes away at the thought. You turned to look for Lyna and continue your journey to your afternoon plans but had found yourself alone in a secluded part of the palace. Having been left behind as you admired the portraits, you took your steps forward.

"Is this what we are now?"

A hushed voice halted you in your path as you strained your ears to listen to the seemingly secret conversation wishing to gather any information that could be beneficial for your use.

"It does not have to be if you give me some time and space to set things right." came in reply by a deep positively masculine voice.

"Set things right? You mean give you time so that you can walk away towards the altar with Lady Tarsa of all people."

You knew that the other houses held no fondness for you but there was no reason why any of them should speak of you in such a manner.

"What would you have me do Alena? Run away with you ? Is that what you think is proper?"

At that you gasped, if it was Lady Alena Velon behind those walls then you had a pretty good guess who the male in question was.

"Would it be so bad to get away from all of this with me?"

"All of this? You mean my entire life ? Everything that I have endured for my end goal?"

At that a sob escaped her throat .

"Eris then what would you have me do? Stand by as you take that female with the traitor's blood as your wife?"

"Alena please don't cry it breaks my heart to see you like this. I wish I could do something about the engagement but father has all but declared his surety on the matter. I am sorry. I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. For what it's worth I would have loved to have you as my wife but this is something that is out of my control."

You scoffed at that. How lovely being painted as the wicked villain in their tragic love story. Typical.

As you leaned your head into the corner to catch a glimpse of their faces , you saw Eris lean in to capture her lips in a searing kiss as Alena leaned into his touch. Their kiss was fierce and loud as if they were about to go off to war. As if nothing mattered but them.

You were shocked and horrified at their lack of discretion. Disrespectful halfwits. Not a single thought about what could happen if they got caught in this compromising position.

You had to escape . But in your haste of wanting to get away as far as possible your hands bashed into a sculpture and knocked over a sculpture by the wall. You scrambled to prevent it from falling but the damage had already been done.

As you turned you saw Lady Alena and Eris looking at you as if all their nightmares had come true. But before anyone could utter a single word, Eris rushed towards you and dragged you into an empty room by the end of the hallway.

You snatched your arm free but before you could afford the luxury of putting some distance between your bodies, he pressed your back against the wall with his strong muscles. He was breathing heavily as he came to rest his arms beside both sides of your head. A cold and calculating expression staring back at you with his warm body pressing onto you.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times as if unable to settle upon the words he wanted to speak. But it didn't matter because his stupid excuses held no value for you.

"If you dare speak of what you saw- "

"Mother above. Spare me with your nonsense. Though I must applaud your audacity to treat me this way even after l hold your deepest secret to my heart." you spat out vexed by his actions.

"So what? Are you going to rat me out princess?" He gritted out , his composure slipping out of his control as he pressed himself closer to your body.

You were shaking in your knees but you could not afford showing your weak hand to Eris. You will never show him your weakness.

"I won't rat you out as you put it because I know it would only delight you having the engagement broken without you having to lift a finger."

Your body trembled as you tried to keep your anger at bay. You could feel your sharp nails digging crescents into your palms. Maintaining a calm countenance had always come to you as easily as breathing but something in Eris just managed to make you volatile.

" But you are so unfair my darling betrothed. I know this is not a love match but I at least expected you to keep your illicit affairs under wraps and not flaunt them in broad daylight. Well I suppose you need to have half a brain for that." you continued with a sharp grin adorning your face in order to not expose your true nervousness.

"Whatever could you mean ?" You watched as a vein twitched on his forehead. He was furious but had somehow managed to hold himself back.

You could barely gulp with how dry your throat had become. But with all the strength you could find in your voice you whispered out.

"What I mean to say your grace is that when I do bed another male I would not be as foolish as you to have my clandestine meetings out in the open for all to see."

You had no knowledge about how your faces had migrated closer to each other during the heat of the moment. Despite Eris' body heat pressing onto you due to the proximity a shiver slithered down your spine and with a hairsbreadth between your lips he whispered

"Is that a threat Tarsa?"

"No, it's a promise Vanserra."

You watched as fire stirred beneath his gaze as if trying to breach his carefully crafted mask. You watched as his gaze moved towards your lips. You watched as his lips-

"My lady I have been looking for- Oh forgive me my lord I did not know i was intruding."

It would have shocked you less if someone doused you with a bucket of ice water than Lyna's intrusion. He flinched away from you as if he would burn merely by touching you.

"Pardon me my lady I will be in the hallway if you need me."

"No, let us go."

You needed to escape. Escape before you did something that you would truly come to regret.

Grabbing Lyna's hand you rushed out of the room without even sparing a single glance at Eris.

----

"Does something bother you y/n?"

A shudder fluttered to the tips of your body as Lady Aelia's question pulled you away from thoughts of closed rooms and smoke and honey lined red hairs.

"It is nothing that should worry you your grace I was merely lost in thoughts about my wedding preparations." you somehow managed to utter with performative excitement coating your voice.

"Oh yes how are they coming along. I actually invited you to tea today to ask if there was anything you needed help with."

Her hand flexed as she lifted the cup to her lips.

"You are too kind your grace."

The Lady Aelia of Autumn screamed of elegance and royalty. Through your life you had met her only a handful of times but everytime she managed to leave you starstruck with her beauty. Many saw her as this quiet and submissive wife but with a bit of closer inspection you saw a woman hardened by the years she lived as Beron Vanserra's wife and lady of the court. With her regal beauty and resilient nature she truly was the Lady of the court.

"Oh none of that you can refer to me as your mother y/n. " Over the chirping of birds, she chuckled softly.

"So have you and Eris managed to have some time to know each other?"

The sudden question regarding the root of all your musings stunned into silence and the ever so quick eye of the Lady of Autumn managed to pick up on it.

"Y/n I can tell this marriage is not your first choice and I see questions in your eyes so trust me when I say that I know how painful this is." she continued her dulcet voice managing to lull you into a sense of security.

"So you must speak your mind."

You put your cup down as you sat up straight to stare into her eyes.

" I am afraid that is a luxury that I cannot afford mother. Sitting here with you had already managed to seal my mouth shut."

If your words managed to put her off she did not show it.

"We can pretend that all is good but it would not erase the decades of bad blood within our houses. It cannot undo all the sufferings we had to endure and it cannot restore my family back. So I hope you do not find me brazen when I say that I cannot fathom why I have to enter into a marriage with a family that brought the doom upon us."

Lady Aelia eyes sparkled at your words.

"Tell me something dear do you think your brother was right in his actions?"

Your jaw dropped for a moment. Was this some sort of trial? To test your loyalty to the throne. But her countenance held no animosity rather only plain curiosity.

So with all the courage you could muster you simply replied, "I believe he did the right thing."

"And I believe so too little dove."

You forgot yourself for a moment with her words.

"But I also believe we had no choice in our actions too. He saw something wrong and opposed the throne but it also caused unrest in the people in a sensitive time and we as the high family had to put an end to it. So believe me when I say this y/n you could do so much for the people if you are in power than what you do when you are a rebel."

You knew that she held no love for the High Lord. You were not deaf to the whispers regarding Lucien Vanserra and his parentage. But one thing stuck with you.

"Do you think of me being capable of revolting against the court?"

At that she smiled. Razor sharp. And you saw the true strength and cunning beneath her slip out a little.

" I think you are the poster child of a rebel. You certainly have the motive and fire for it but do you know what makes you different little dove?"

She paused a moment as if letting you agonize over the words.

"You also have what it takes to be a Queen."

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 4

Summary: John Price comes home to Rory after the raid on the house in Camden Town

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, drinking, character with trauma, fade to black chapter ending, implied suggestive content, established relationship

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 2.5 k

[AO3]

October 27, 2019 - Fulham, London, UK

The rain had finally dissipated, making way for the cold to settle in. The thick of autumn had brought with it chilly gales that swept through the trees on the street below, ripping the last remaining leaves from the flimsy branches and swirling them in cascading gusts down the street. Rory leaned against the railing of her balcony, pulling the opening of her robe tightly shut in her fist, a cigarette held in her other hand as she looked out over the neighborhood like a sentry. Three in the morning was always a bleak time of day, even more so after having awoken from another night terror. The haunting quiet around her was at once peaceful all while stirring up the ghosts that preyed upon the moments of silence where she couldn’t distract herself from them, a swarm of guilt that stung. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she was quick to blame the sharpness of the wind as she wiped them away.

John was six miles north of her, raiding the makeshift base for an AQ terrorist cell – the ones responsible – and here she was living vicariously through reports leaked through the grapevine by Laswell as to what was going on. The names Alex Keller, Commander Karim, and Sergeant Garrick spun around in her head as she took another drag from her cigarette, letting the burning tip then dangle from her fingers over the balcony’s edge, ash tipping off it and drifting away in the breeze as smoke drifted past the torn skin on her nervously chewed lip. 

She was getting sick of standing around. Her fingertips tapped against the railing. The sniper training told her to hold steady, remain patient, she’d be called into action soon. The so-called ‘grunt’ in her yearned for the fight, to head straight into the action, stepping sure footed into danger. Instead, she breathed in yet more burning acrid smoke caking her lungs in tar. The world spun and she felt frozen. This wasn’t fucking helping.

Stubbing out her cigarette in the ashtray on her patio table with a forceful push, crushing it below the weight of her hand, she headed back inside and started getting ready to go for a run. Something to clear her head, to make use of the anxious energy sparking in her nerves. To move.

She wasn’t built to be a statue overlooking things, she could stand still no longer. 

Coming downstairs, dressed in her running gear, she slipped on her running shoes at the front door, ready to head out just as the lock clicked and it was shoved open. The large, looming presence of John – looking like he’d been through the wars – entered the doorway, pausing as his boot crossed over the threshold. Stood there frozen, they stared at one another in the murky depths of that God forsaken hour of the morning. Rory was first to break the silence, surprised to see him, figuring he was already on the warpath to his next point of attack. “What are you doing here?” she whispered softly, not wanting her voice to carry while the front door hovered open. “Finished up, Garrick’s getting his things together to head out,” he said in a hoarse murmur.  “Came back to get a few things myself.” He brushed his hand through his hair, the tendon in his jaw flexing as he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, sighing before he spoke. “Wanted to see you,” he said, lowering his head to meet her eyeline and keep her from craning her neck.

“Check up on me, you mean.” A little grin spread across her lips as she folded her arms over her chest.  

“Maybe a little.” He eyed her up and down, brows furrowing as he appraised her state.

“You’re going for a run this early?” John asked gruffly. “Couldn’t sleep, can’t sit still anymore.” She huffed out a little laugh as she shrugged her shoulder casually, her eyes falling away from him. “You know how it is.”

Nodding, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and squeezed it softly. Gentle, yet possessive. Holding her close to him, John lowered his head, his forehead touching hers as their eyes locked. “Can the run wait, love?” His thumb stroked along the curve at her nape, the calloused pad rough against her soft skin and strands of hair. 

“Yeah.” Looking up at him, her hand lifted to rest on his forearm sitting on her shoulder, his body heat warming her through her activewear. “I would ask if you want tea, but you look like you need something stronger.”

A wry grin pulled at his lips, crinkling the crow’s feet around his eyes. “You’re not wrong. What’s on tap, darlin’?”

“Glenlivet 21-year, if you fancy it.” She tipped her head in the direction of the kitchen, where the bottle and glasses sat waiting on the countertop since the last time they had shared a drink together. 

He let out a sharp breath, grunting as his eyes narrowed. “Can’t say whether it's too late or too early to be havin’ a drink, darlin’, but frankly, I don’t give a damn right now.”

Rory’s laugh echoed through the hall, bouncing off the ceiling and walls, shaking her head as she led him to the kitchen by the hand. This was how their home was supposed to sound, the silence receding, fading into nothingness as the heartbeat returned to it. 

Taking a seat at one of the stools parked at the island, adjusting his back with a quick bend and twist, John rubbed at his tired eyes. Hunching forward, his broad shoulders carried the weight of the world as they so often did, looking as exhausted as she did. Bleary eyed in the middle of the night, but at least he had the adrenaline in his system to keep him going even if it had begun to wear off. 

Pouring two drams of the whiskey for them to enjoy, her warm eyes remained on him, sliding one towards him as she leaned against the counter, resting on her elbows. Taking a sniff of the amber liquid before she sipped. Worth the price of the bottle every time . The warm burn down the throat was appreciated as well. With a long, drawn in breath, Rory tiptoed around current events. “So, tell me, how's the new Sergeant?”

“Garrick? He's finding his footin’.” John rubbed his thumb against the side of the glass, looking down into his drink before meeting her gaze once more with a twinkle in his eye. “Doesn't talk back nearly as much as you did.”

“Well who does?” Rory asked with a snicker. “I'm one in a bloody million, John.” Her lips twisted into a smirk as they pressed to the rim of her glass to take another sip. 

“That you are, darlin’.”

Unzipping her track sweater, she shrugged off the layer and folded it neatly in half before draping it over the counter. The toned shape of her shoulders and arms now on full display wearing her sleeveless running top and John perked up at the sight, alert as his eyes blinked into focus, shifting in his seat once more. She didn’t miss the unmistakable reaction, a testament to the attraction they shared, the palpable chemistry between them, but she carried on with an easy grin. “And I assume the hunt was successful?”

Clearing his throat, John’s brows knit together as he slipped back into the facade of the hardened Captain once more, his voice remaining thick and husky. “Got a hit on the Wolf’s location. Kate’s already on it.”

“Alex and Farah, I assume?”

“Yeah.” He sipped his drink, and smacked his lips quietly before speaking, “Already asked for the intel to be sent your way too.” His glass hit the counter with a clink. That piercing blue stare held her in place, never wavering. This was no longer just John she was conversing with, this was the Captain, bound by duty. “I know you want in on this, wanna make sure you know everything the rest of us do, keep you in the loop.” “Homework,” she added with a hum.

“For now. Once I’m on the ground in Urzikstan, I’ll call you in, love. I just need to know what we’re gettin’ ourselves into first before I lead you into trouble.” “Ah, so it’s you being overprotective again.” Leaning forward, she cut some of the space between them, a knowing smirk on her face. She was no stranger to John’s urge to keep her well out of harm’s way, despite that being part of her job description. It was endearing in its own way, if not a little maddening. “Don’t hold that against me, darlin’.”

“I don’t. I just can’t help feeling like a bloody glorified desk jockey in the meantime, John. Antsy to get back out in the field. Maybe if I had been…” Her words trailed off, but the meaning was clear as she took another drink, letting the alcohol dull the ache. 

“It wouldn’t have made any difference, my girl, and you know it. Things were set in motion before you had any idea about it. Ya did what you could.”

“Could’ve saved more lives.”

His jaw flexed, gritting down on his molars. It was like she could read his thoughts, knowing that he wanted to tell her she was wrong, that nothing more could have been done. It made it easier to move on that way, but Rory had always taken failure to heart, let it fester in her head, her guilt growing like a weed – her perfectionism was equally one of her best and her worst traits as a soldier. 

Large, rough hands rose to cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking the peaks of them softly. His gaze burned into hers as he stretched over the counter, drawing her towards him. “Listen t’me, what happened wasn’t your fault. You cannot get hung up on this, Ror. D’you understand?” Pushing back her hair with his fingers, he tilted her face up to keep her looking at him. “I’m not lettin’ you put this on your shoulders. Y’hear me?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. 

“Good.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he stayed there, letting his lips linger against the soft furrow of her brow. “You got enough to carry on those shoulders, love. Don’t need to add more.”

“It’s my job to carry it.”

“Yeah.” His hand moved to grip her chin, his thumb drifting over her lower lips, pulling on the plump of it. “And it’s mine t’ look after ya.”

She huffed out a laugh through her nose, the corner of her mouth curling into a smirk. “You’re such a bloody sap sometimes, you know that?” 

“Don’t tell anyone though, eh?” he whispered before kissing her softly and pulling away.

Chuckling quietly, Rory shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair, swapping the side of her part. “Fucking hell, John.” A heavy sigh evacuated her lungs and she hung her head. “You are going to go capture him, aren’t you?” Price responded with a curt nod. “That’s the plan, yeah.” “And I will be coming with you on that little adventure, yes?” “Transfer paperwork should be coming through soon enough.” “Always a step ahead, aren’t you?” “Always.” A sly grin pulled at the corner of his lips as he took another sip of his drink. There was a beat of silence between them, comfortably enveloping them, a silence they had easily learned to share with one another. 

Scoffing bitterly, Rory swirled the contents of her glass around. “Dad said I was going to end up in the desert with you. Tried to tell him otherwise.” Her eyes glanced sideways as she muttered, “Don’t I feel like a right prick for that now.”

John’s smile faltered slightly, blue eyes reflecting the faintest hint of guilt. “Why,” he muttered, running a calloused thumb along her jawline. “Who are we kiddin’?” A wry chuckle escaped him, the sound almost bitter. “This is our reality… our duty.” Pausing, he fixed her with a stern look. “We work well together, my girl. I’d be an idiot not to take ya with me wherever I go.”

“You just like the idea of showing me off to everyone,” she teased, giving him a little wink. 

“Goddamn right I do. Pretty thing like you. My good girl.” His grin was radiant as she laughed, enjoying the fact that he could get that sort of reaction out of her. “Come here,” he commanded, drawling out the words. Turning in his seat to rest his back against the counter as she circled it, his eyes followed her every step like a predator stalking its prey until she came to stand in front of him, burning holes into her with that steely gaze.

Standing between his muscular thighs spread wide, she felt small in his presence. His strong arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into him felt more like home than the house did, guarded from all the darkness in the world and inside her head. Her arms circled around the back of his neck, the curve of her fitting perfectly against his wall of muscle. The smell of smoke and sweat that clung to him and his clothes wafted between them as they embraced in the quiet solitude of their kitchen. “Being stuck here, this is temporary. Just let me get the lay of the land first,” he said, brushing her tousled hair away from her face, tucking the tresses behind her ear. “You’ll be knee deep in it soon enough, love. You and me. Together . Dealing with the enemy.” Taking a moment to nuzzle the side of her neck, the coarse whiskers of his beard rasped softly against her sensitive skin as he inhaled deeply, drawing the scent of her into his nostrils. “Just want to keep you safe,” he mumbled hoarsely against her flesh. Holding her gaze as he pulled away, he tilted his head to the side. The movement deliberate, as if trying to convey some unspoken message, though the darkened need in his eyes told her everything. 

Accepting that as her cue, Rory lowered her mouth to meet his, curling her fingers under his chin and claiming his lips with a slow, lingering kiss. The shared taste of whiskey on their breath mingled in her mouth, a heady concoction that brought a flush to her cheeks as the heat in her core began to rise. 

Hands shifting to cling to her lower back, John’s fingers massaged into the meat of her hips, a low groan slipping free as their mouths parted. “Come on then, darlin’,” he purred against her lips, voice husky and low. “Got thirty minutes before I have to meet the sergeant, and I promised ya we wouldn’t be chattin’ next time we were together.”

Lifting her up into his arms, pressing her into his chest as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he easily carried her upstairs to the bedroom.  

[bebepac]

Garden Party Photo Op

I am participating in @choicesflashfics prompt “ Say that again.... I don’t think I heard you right the first time which will appear in bold

I am also participating in @choiceschallenge-may2023  prompt for vacation.

Without further Ado and it’s been a long time coming since the last update on this series The Life of Riley Book 2:  This is chapter 8 in this series.   

This chapter also contains a companion chapter in Heroes and Villians  called Arch Nemesis

The Book: TRR

The Pairings: Liam x Riley

Rating:  PG

Warnings:  Adult Language

Word Count: 2428

Mood Music Monday Submisson: "When You Believe"  by Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey

Summary:  Riley  attends a garden party with a challenge involved to see who will be crowned Cordonia’s Most Photogenic Couple, the prize a weekend vacation to Greece.

Original Post: 05/14/23  at 7:14PM EST. 

A/N: As mentioned any chapter of Life of Riley carrying this callsign 

will have a companion chapter in Heroes and Villains.  The chapters will be similar in plot, but different subjects and perpectives will be focused on, the two chapters together tell a complete story from different vantage points. 

AN2:  I hadn’t planned on updating LOR yet, but I did get a request from the lovely @queenwalton​ as she is a fan of this story line, and it’s a late birthday gift.  So happy belated birthday friend, late but I made it. LOL. 

She smiled when she woke up, stretching out her body while still nestled in the soft plush covers and mattress that felt like she was sleeping on clouds.   Opening her eyes, she glanced around the ornately decorated room. Waking up there every morning, always felt like she was in a dream.  She jumped up, from her bed running  over to the balcony, throwing open the doors, as if she expected the gardens below not to be visible.

  But it was, every single morning.  She had been in Cordonia a little more than three weeks; the ending of the second week at the palace where she was participating in Prince Liam’s social season.  She was living her own Cinderella story thanks to the crown prince of Cordonia Liam Rys, who after spending the night with her in New York, asked her to come visit him in Cordonia for a week, and then asked her to stay. Now this was her life. 

Balls and garden parties, and vying for the hand of a Prince that honestly had already made her life different, and she hadn’t even said the words “I do” yet.

Riley Brooks was not the only one living their own Cinderella story that had Liam to thank.  A young Nicolas Karahalios had everything he owned packed in a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and was standing at the palace gates waiting for entry to live at the palace for the duration of his training. This was different. Previously he was only visiting the palace for training,  now he would be actually staying on site.

“State your full name, and what your business is at the palace.”  

“Karahalios, Nicolas A. I’m beginning level two training for the Kingsguard.”  

The sentry took out a clip board and scrolled through the names.  Nico sighed in relief when the guard picked up a pen and checked his name off the list.

“You're early. Head through those double doors there to take your photo for your level two identification, and from there, you’ll go to uniforms for your cadet training attire.”

“Thank you.”

“Good luck, kid.”  The guard nodded to him, opening the gate.  

“Thank you, Sir!”  Nico slid the strap of his bag up higher on his shoulder and stood in amazement as the palace gates opened for him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Nico was officially one step closer to becoming a part of the KingsGuard.  Nico stood tall in front of the wall with the Cordonian Crest

 to take his photograph for his badge.

“Look straight ahead.”  The person instructed him.  Nico smiled.

“Don’t smile in this photo.”

“Oh, sorry.”    

Nico quickly made his face serious and level once more.

“Your badge will be ready in a few minutes.  Since you were the first one here, it won’t be so long,  you can go to uniforms and get settled in, in the cadet dorm, and  don’t look so shell shocked.  You made it this far.”  

“Thank you sir.”  

When Nico finally made it to the cadet dorms, he finally decided to call his mother.

“I made it mama! I’m the first one here.”  

He panned his phone around the room. The first side of the room housed the bunks for sleeping,  the other side  had furniture,  desks, and a huge wide screen television.  

“This is nicer than where you were previously sharing an apartment.”

“And Mama, when I become a guard, I’ll have my own quarters here, in the palace.”

“You can do it Nico.  I know you can.  Thank you for the money you’ve been sending us.  I was able to get Athena a beautiful dress for graduation.”  

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Mama.  It’s what I’m supposed to do.  I’ll be able to take care of you someday.”

“You already do that Nico.  I’m proud of you.”  

“Thank you Mama.  I’ve got to go now , some of the other cadets are here now.”

“And you can't be on the phone with your mother, I understand.”  She chuckled softly.

“It's not that. I love you mama.”  

“Go make friends. I love you too, my sweet little Dianooúmenos." (Egghead)

Nico laughed,

 "Goodbye Mama." disconnecting the call.

His mother didn’t realize this was serious, that no one would really be making friends.   People wanted positions in the guard, and everyone had legacy advantages but him.  He was considered to be the outsider that didn’t belong;

 the only one who didn’t treat him that way was Demitri who preferred to be called Dima for short. Dima was the closest person to a friend he had of the cadets.  Nico had already claimed a top bunk for himself. Dima decided on the one next to him. Nico worked twice as hard as the others, and Dima was at his heels.

After Nico had unpacked, he changed into his workout clothes.

“What are you about to do?”  

“Take a run around the wall.”  (The Palace perimeter)

“Want company?”  

“Sure.”  

As they walked out of the dormitory room, Dima looked at him.  

“You know, you’re not the only one with something to prove, Nico.”

“Say that again... I don’t think I heard you right the first time.”

“It’s easy to ride on someone’s coattails, but making your own path is a lot more difficult.  More people should try it.  You and I are really more alike than we are different, you know.”

“Good to know.”  

Riley

“Come in Maxwell!”  Riley said when she heard his knock.  

Maxwell smiled as he walked through the door.

“You know, we have to stop meeting this way.”  

Maxwell laughed  but the door remained open for Bertrand to walk through.   Riley tried to hide her annoyance.

“Yes Bertrand, what did I do wrong now?”  

He looked her over.  

“Nothing that I can tell as of yet, but you did just wake up, which already means you have a late start.”  

“Still getting used to the time difference.”  

“That didn’t matter last night when you were at the dive bar drinking with Drake Walker acting like you’re still a college student.”  

“You’re acting like Maxwell wasn’t there too.”

“Little Blossom! Way to throw me under the bus!”

“I feel like I'm the only one taking this whole arrangement seriously, keeping you two in check is like herding cats.”  

“Meow.”  

Maxwell chuckled.  

“Do not encourage her Maxwell.”  

“Don’t encourage me Maxwell. You know how that antagonizes him.”  Riley imitated Bertrand’s voice.   Bertrand eyed her, shaking his head.  

“Today’s itinerary is simple.  You will be having lunch in the garden.   All suitors must wear white dresses for the suitor photo shoot.”

“Good thing I’m not surfing the crimson wave this week.”

“The crimson what?  Lady Riley if you are referring to feminine concerns…”  

“Or the monthly monster.”  

“RAWR!!!!!!”  Maxwell yelled, causing the both of them to break out into fits of giggles.

“You two!!! Stop it! I mean it.”  

Maxwell cleared his throat.

“We are very sensitive to those types of things, right Bertrand?  It’s a part of life women must deal with.”    

“This is true Lady Riley, if there is anything you need in that department,  I’m sure Maxwell can handle that for you.”

Bertrand straightened his tie taking  a deep breath to continue his conversation.

“Getting back on task, the purpose of the suitor photo shoot is to upload your candid photo with Prince Liam to the Crown’s social media website so the people can be part of the voting for Most Photogenic Couple.  You need to head to your appointment in the boutique.”

“It’s not needed, I have a  dress for the event, Bertrand.”

Betrand laughed out loud.  

“With all due respect Lady Riley, I’ve looked at your social media, and I seriously doubt anything you brought from New York with you, when you were and I quote ‘living my best life YOLO club hopping with my bae’  would hardly suffice for a upscale luncheon with His Royal Highness and the King and Queen. Maxwell, talk some sense into her.”  

Once Bertrand had left, Maxwell peered at Riley.

“Little Blossom….”  

“Trust me Maxwell, I have the perfect dress for the garden party.  I just need to get a steamer, and I can steam it myself to remove any wrinkles it has. I promise, I will look amazing.”

“I trust you.”  

Even though Liam had offered the Beaumonts funding for Riley’s social season expenses, she always felt if she could avoid spending Liam’s money, she would.  She did have the perfect dress.  It  was snow white and ethereal, gently clung to her curves in the right places, and flowy in all the others. Once steamed and after she had straightened her hair but used her curling iron to create loose waves.  Since it was almost time for her next batch of white roses from Liam to be delivered, she decided to use the current ones to make a garland of roses for her hair, making sure she saved one for something special for Liam. She wanted the whole world to know that she belonged there too.

Liam was absolutely awestruck when he saw her walking towards the party, heading in her direction, him stopping her at  the garden archway.  

The way he stared at her made her feel special and desired.  Liam never gazed at anyone with the level of intention in his eyes.  

After speaking for a few minutes, and the Prince pulling her close to him for a few moments, she continued on to the gardens,  meeting up with Hana first.  

“I’m so glad you’re here Lady Riley.”

“You know me,  fashionably late but always in fashion.”  Riley giggled. “I really like your dress.”

“Yours too! Where did you get it?  There was nothing like it in the boutique.”  

“It’s actually a dress I brought here from home.”

“It’s really pretty, I would have never known. You’ll have a really pretty picture with Prince Liam, with your dress and hair blowing in the wind.”  

“That’s the plan!”  

“Shall we go and grab a seat?”  

“Lets, my dogs are barking!”

“Okay Penelope.” Hana commented with a giggle.

As they turned  to take the first steps to start heading towards the suitor’s table, Olivia passed in front of Riley stepping on her foot.

Riley could not contain the curse words that tumbled from her mouth.  She was afterall A New Yorker through and through.  She was able to use curse words just as fragrant as a painter could make a picture on canvas come to life.  

“And that’s why you should be wearing heels and not dollar store sandals.”  

Riley decided not to engage the Scarlet Diva anymore at that moment, but the reckoning was coming.  She had to wait a bit for the crowd to calm down and It was time for lunch, and time for a little payback.  

She decided to survey the serving tables before she enacted her revenge, and let’s be for real, Olivia had it coming.  Riley strategically started heaping food on her plate in a haphazard fashion.  Anything soupy with a sauce made it to her plate, and to drink? The biggest glass she could find was filled to the brim with red wine.  

Target acquired.  Riley made her way back to her seat with her plate that was heaping with food and her larger than life glass of red wine, when she passed by Olivia, she feigned slipping dropping the glass of wine over her head.  

Direct Hit!

“Whoops!”  Riley exclaimed.

Olivia gasped, jumping up, grabbing her arm.  Riley again slipped as if the ground where the wine had fallen off of Olivia had made the grass slippery and her plate of food somehow left her hands, landing all over Olivia’s dress.  

Flawless Victory!

“My apologies, Duchess Olivia!!!!  It looks like I got your whole dress there. Clumsy me!!!”

She leaned into  Olivia with a smirk.  “Must be those cheap dollar store sandals not providing much traction on the grass.”

The Scarlet Duchess’s face was in fact scarlet and she left the garden party humiliated.  

Riley went back in line and got her actual plate of food, finally making it to her place next to Hana once more.

Hana’s eyes were wide and unblinking.  “I really wasn’t expecting you to do that. But I’m glad you did.  She gets away with so much, I’m glad you stand up to her and for yourself.”

“Don’t let her.  All of you guys could stand up for yourselves too, and not let her get away with the things she does.”  

“That’s just not how it’s done here.”  

“Well, it is now.”

Riley glanced across the way, Liam was smiling, shaking his head at her.  Riley smiled back, shrugging her shoulders resulting in Liam’s smile to widen even more.  

Photo Op Time

As Liam posed and took pictures with the other suitors, there were some nice photos in the bunch but they all lacked something special.  Riley went last, and as she walked in the Prince’s direction 

his smile brightened and his eyes twinkled. His world stopped.

“Natural chemistry has  finally entered the chat.”  

Riley fell into a deep curtsy looking up at Liam as she held out one of the roses she had clipped. 

“A matching rose for you Your Highness for your lapel, for our picture together.”  

“That’s a lovely gesture Lady Riley.”  

After placing the rose, Riley straightened it.  “Perfect.”

Riley faced the Prince for her photo as all the suitors before had done.  But once their eyes met, there was no denying the electric sexually charged energy of the two together.  Neither heard the snap of the camera until Ana De Luca spoke.

“Wow, that was a great picture, but I don’t think the people are ready for a photo with this much raw heat to it.”  

“I request a copy of that one Ana.”

She nodded.  “You two don’t even need to face each other to create chemistry, it happens on its own.”  

Before Ana could actually direct them Liam and Riley fell into a pose different from all the suitors before.  

“There it is.   Perfect.  This picture displays " The Royal Romance.”  

All the suitors' pictures with Liam were touched up and uploaded to the Crown’s social media website for voting.  

Riley’s picture with Liam won by a landslide, meaning she would be going to Greece with Liam; the man she loves. The girl that had come from lowly beginnings being adopted, and losing everything she had to  meeting a kind attractive stranger was now around the world getting stamps on a passport she never thought she would fill, living her best life.

Cinder - fucking - rella  in the house or should we say castle?

Just Breathe....

[knifedancer]

Uninvited (songfic, part 2)

Sequel/Follow-up to 'Iris'. Marinette knows that Argos has been following her and his presence is unwelcome. One night, while she is walking home, Mari is attacked by two strange men and, much to her surprise, Argos steps in to save her. When he suffers from a near fatal wound, what will the secret heroine do?

Based on the lyrics for 'Uninvited' by Alanis Morissette (1998) from the movie soundtrack for 'City of Angels'. Posted on AO3.

Part 1

~~~~~~~

Like anyone would be

I am flattered by your fascination with me

Like any hot-blooded woman

I have simply wanted an object to crave

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Oh, Marinette knew she was being followed – she knew exactly who it was as well. Ever since the Diamond Dance and his oddly protective behavior towards her, Felix – as Argos – became the petite bluenette’s shadow. At first, she was disturbed and concerned he had discovered her heroic identity but, as days grew into weeks and weeks turned into months, it became obvious that he had no idea. Especially when he would attack her during akuma attacks and then stand sentry – his glowing magenta eyes standing out against the shadows – only a few rooftops away from her balcony. She could sense his curiosity was changing – at first suspicious and now something distinctly different. Whatever it was, Tikki agreed that his attentions did not seem threatening. Marinette only hoped he would find something else – someone else – fascinating soon as she had no time to spare. Her duties as Ladybug and the miraculous guardian were too important to have distractions…

Must be strangely exciting

To watch the stoic squirm

Must be somewhat heartening

To watch shepherd meet shepherd

But you, you're not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

Afterall, Felix had been the one to impersonate Adrien, the sole cause that akumatized her three friends, attempted to sexually assault her, betrayed her to Hawkmoth, only to take on the role of villain… The young designer could not readily forgive and forget. While Marinette remained the same person she had been, she had learned her lesson when Lila isolated her. She was thankful as it stripped away her naivety; she was now far more cautious with her heart, her time, her energy.

That’s why she decided to give up on loving Adrien. So many attempted kisses, missed opportunities, and failed confessions… It was as if the universe was giving her a message that she finally understood. He would always remain someone special to her but the disaster that was her love life was a distraction toward her miraculous mission: defeat Monarch and retrieve the jewels. The secret heroine focused on building their friendship instead. She knew Argos witnessed it all – it made her uncomfortable knowing he was likely laughing at her fickle feelings. How could he understand what laid in her heart?! What struggles she dealt with while she struggled to keep her head held high? To keep herself from drowning beneath her increasingly difficult responsibilities and obligations?

Perhaps he would leave her alone now.

Like any uncharted territory

I must seem greatly intriguing

You speak of my love like

You have experienced love like mine before

But this is not allowed

You're uninvited

An unfortunate slight

But even after watching her move beyond her crush, Argos remained her steadfast companion of a sort – never appearing directly to Marinette. He was simply there. Just on the edge of her sight but always silent, always out of reach, but always watching…

That’s why, when she was attacked late at night, she was shocked to see Argos intervene. Just having him present hampered her immensely! It risked her identity getting back to Monarch so she was unable to transform nor react as she normally would for fear for raising suspicions. Grabbed, roughed up, and mentally rattled, she was unsure what she was seeing was real. This purple and blue colored villain had finally shed the comfort of his shadows and appointed himself her champion. He stood in a defensive position in front of her, fan at ready and in a fighting stance. ‘Why?’ her mind questioned on repeat as she watched him fight, eyes blurry from being slapped. When he turned and offered his hand, she hesitated as she stared into his magenta eyes to seek the answers she most desired. ‘Why? Why now?’

That’s when she saw the flash of a knife behind him, glinting in the moonlight, as the taller man lunged. Her entire consciousness flooded with blinding fear and she screamed, “Look out!”

Argos turned but it was too late, the knife plunged into his side and Marinette felt her stomach suddenly drop. She choked on her breath, feeling the dread wring her vocal chords as she saw the blood seep into the material of his miraculous suit. ‘So much blood…’ Her panicked heartbeat roared in her ears as she stared wide-eyed, unable to hear anything else. Then he smirked, wrenching the knife from his body and transformed it into a minotaur sentimonster that chased her attackers off. The secret heroine should have been more concerned about the potential senti-threat but…

Her heart stopped and the silence deafened her as Argos focused his pain filled gaze upon her again. Marinette wasn’t sure what she said as her mind raced, her own eyes drawn to the seemingly never-ending blood that leaked from the large laceration in his side. When he collapsed beside her, his breathing becoming more ragged as his timer wound down, her Ladybug senses kicked into overdrive – assessing his injuries and attempting to staunch the bleed. That’s when his transformation fell away and bluebells met hazel green… she finally saw the broken and hurt boy, the fear and love that lay beneath his cold exterior.

“…I’m s-sorry, Angel…,” Felix’s fading voice seemed like it had been dragged through wet gravel and it set off alarms in her head. She did everything she could but, as he collapsed into her arms, everything screamed at her to save him!

“Tikki, spots on!” Marinette tucked the peacock miraculous into her yo-yo to keep it safe, hoisted Felix’s limp body into her arms, and zipped away towards the nearest hospital. Adrenaline swept away the pain that arose with each breath, each movement, as her body protested against using injured limbs. She didn’t care, couldn’t even think about that now. Her mind’s sole focus was on the blond teen in her arms and her new mission. He was—he was always there… He just couldn’t die!

The landing in the alley nearest the emergency room nearly knocked the wind from her lungs as the sprained ankle lanced pain up her leg and spine. She detransformed and gasped; stumbling as a wave of excruciating sensations caused tears to spring to her eyes within seconds. ‘I don’t have time to hurt,’ she scolded herself mentally. Pushing down the panic and anguish with gritted teeth, her eyes two burning coals of determination, she summoned her residual Ladybug strength to carry him in through the entry on unsteady feet.

After the flurry of doctors, half-truths, police reports, and bandages, she was finally deemed non-critical and was discharged. Marinette sat vigil outside the door to surgery, ice pack gingerly held over one eye as her mind recalling every minute in meticulous detail to keep the doom spiral from forming in her mind. The blood, the knife, the faces of the men… After a few hours, doctors wheeled him out and into a room for recovery. Although he would still take a while to recuperate, she was convinced that Tikki had loaned him a little luck as the knife had miraculously missed anything vital. ‘He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive,’ she thought on repeat.

“Marinette, you should pin Duusu’s broach to his chest, it should help him recover faster,” Tikki’s soft whisper broke her from her mental chanting. “We can always retrieve it before he is discharged if he cannot be trusted.”

“Good idea, Tikki. Thank you,” she hobbled into the attached bathroom to transform and retrieve the brooch. She re-entered the room as herself only a moment later, pinning and watching the peacock shaped pin transform into a less recognizable piece of jewelry upon his hospital gown. Duusu appeared with a flash and his gaze met Marinette’s.

“Guardian, I did not think you would return me to my holder,” the bird kwami bowed gratefully. “He’s not truly a villain, simply misunderstood and carries deep emotional wounds. Felix has desired to protect you. I don’t think he fully understands why. He will be so confused but happy when he realizes you are Ladybug!”

“Let’s keep my identity – as Ladybug and the guardian – a secret for the time being, shall we?” She pressed a finger to her lips and winked, Duusu giggled softly in response before settling in the crook of Felix’s neck with a coo.

An odd silence descended upon the room – filled with beeping, whirring, and distant chatter. Marinette’s eyes were drawn to Felix’s pale countenance. “He looks so fragile,” she murmured to herself. Minding the wires and tubes attached to him, the girl brushed the hair back from his face. Dark circles resided under his shut eyes, evidence of his late nights and long days. The bluenette settled into the chair at his bedside with a sigh, her eye blackened and shirt now dried with his blood. She glanced up at the clock on the wall, one in the morning.

I don't think you unworthy

I need a moment to deliberate

Marinette looked over his still form once again as the exhaustion settled into her bones, “I guess it’s my turn to watch you now, hmm?”

[maestrojax]

My personal favorite jarlaxle moment.

Jarlaxle was already grinning, seeing the door sentries edging over to the curious pit, unable to resist the urge to peek in. The mercenary tossed the cube toward the door where Draygo Quick had exited, and turned back to the guards on the balcony.

“ ‘With abacus, by architect, by carpenter, and mason,’ ” he recited, sweeping his arm out with dramatic flourish, and at the same time tapping his House insignia to enact a spell of levitation and lift himself conveniently and prudently from the castle floor, he reiterated and elaborated his song:

With all the tools and knowledge of structural design,For shelter most beloved, for love of hearth and home To build your private castle, to whom would you consign?”

Act now, you peacock! Kimmuriel screamed in his thoughts, which only made Jarlaxle smile all the wider.

“Might I suggest that all the tools the mundane numbers and physical rules tor the truly brilliant must remain no more than province of common fools.”

“A castle, and warmth, a true abode, For when one truly seeks a home, The wise call upon the greater souls Who wile their days with a nose in a tome.”

"What foolishness is this?” the guard on the stairs demanded.

“Foolishness?” Jarlaxle echoed as if wounded. “My friend, this is no such thing.” A yelp from behind him told Jarlaxle that the door guards had reached the edge of his pit and had glanced in.

“Nay, this … this is Caer Gromph!”

Caer Gromph, the last two words of the incantation, rang with a different resonance than the playful mercenary’s chanting verse, for they spoke not to the audience, but to the magical cube Jarlaxle had tossed. Upon absorbing those command words, spoken in that manner, the magic of the cube awakened. The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, though of course the floating Jarlaxle remained unperturbed above it, and Castle Draygo began to shake as Caer Gromph’s roots reached into the floor, as the cube transformed into an adamantine tower, designed to resemble the stalagmite towers of the drow Houses of Menzoberranzan.

Up it rose, and widened, crushing and splintering the floor and substructure of Castle Draygo with its roots, blowing out the wall and prodding up under the balcony as its unyielding walls stretched, its adamantine tip piercing the ceiling of the grand room nearly thirty feet above the floor. The Shadovar guards lurched and tumbled under the thunder of the magical creation. One of the pair peeked over the lip of the portable hole and tumbled in, and the other soon followed as a yochlol-like tentacle reached up and aided him in his descent, accompanied by a shriek from the guard and a hearty “bwahaha” from the supposed handmaiden.

A thing of beauty was Caer Gromph. Lined with balconies and a circular stair running its length, top-to-bottom, and edged in faerie fire accents of purple, red, and blue, it seemed as much a work of abstract art as a fortress. But a fortress it was, complete with lines of arrow slits and a magical gate inside, and the moment the construct expanded, Bregan D’aerthe archers poured through the magical portal inside and to their protected posts. Before the many Shadovar had even pinpointed the source of the earthquake, crossbow quarrels flew forth from those arrow slits, coated with that insidious drow poison.

Imagine you are just in your castle with a kidnapped drizzt and artemis and suddenly jarlaxle summons a fucking tower in the middle of it full of bregan d'aerthe soldiers.