#but did not look or feel nearly as good as shadow and bone which had average 4 mil per episode. literally a third what percy had

[deanpinterester]

i was going to make a post telling yall to stop calling godzilla minus one a low-budget film (because it isn't) but then i remembered disney regularly drops 12 million for ONE EPISODE of their shows without nearly the same cultural impact so. yeah godzilla is low-budget as far as i'm concerned idc

[tendermiasma]

Anonymous asked: Did Clover help Halsin with the shadow curse etc, or is their story divergent from the game?

He did, in time. In the Shadowlands he felt exposed and vulnerable with nowhere to run. When the party started ordering him down from taking extra watches he exhausted himself with concealment spells. Halsin in particular seemed concerned with his welfare, encouraging him to rest, which made Clover vow never to close both eyes again. Halsin's entanglement with the Fey made him, in his eyes, his greatest threat. Halsin's want to keep him close felt like

a hound guarding his master's kill, waiting for his return. He'd walked in darkness before and braved the Shadowfell when the little thing inside him that his whole life kept him alive, that screamed and screamed to run or die, reached a fever pitch. It ended poorly.

It pained Halsin more and more that Clover looked at him with such confused mistrust, that he shrank from him. He should let someone alone who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. A sting was natural, but knowing that it was what one wanted had always made it easier to part ways in the end. It made him restless. A pit opened in his stomach when he'd reach to relieve Clover of the heavy water pail to douse the fire and watch his gaze immediately struggle to find its sharpness under a bleary sleeplessness thick with nights spent holding up wards while the Weave frayed around him. Halsin's eyes roamed the treeline but he only thought of how Clover froze at his approaching footfalls at the change of watch. Halsin felt childish, selfish even. Why couldn't he just let this be? He knew why. Something was deeply wrong-- he was a healer and saw in Clover an injury of a different kind. He wished he could convince himself it was the only reason. He had never been a good liar, but this was the first time he cursed himself for it.

It was he who carried Clover back to the firelight and kept him in his own tent to recover. As kind as Halsin was, it was unwise for anyone to keep Clover from him then.

In its unfamiliar warmth was the first time Clover ever spoke of what happened to him. He spoke in the weight of forests holding lost years and spells and a man in the bones of an owl. It all lay about in a half-light, a moonlight throwing long shadows on what he could not say, what he could not remember, what choked him from fear to even whisper.

While he was unable to leave-- due to his physical state and later Halsin's strong insistence-- they had many hushed hours to spend together. It was the first time Clover noticed the heaviness in Halsin's eyes that would part like clouds for the sun when there was something to be done. Clover softened under Halsin's murmured conversation and learned not to pull from his hands. He was only able to stand so much though; Halsin's intentioned touch was overwhelming. It was gentle and mindful and consumed his entire senses and made him want to bolt for the Shadowfell once more. He wanted to cut out every part of him that Halsin's hands had touched because he wanted to think of anything else besides the memory of them lingering on his skin. He wanted Halsin to never stop touching him. He wanted to set the tent on fire.

The warm and deep scent of the blankets and furs that Halsin piled around him was intoxicating and dangerously comforting to Clover. He put nettles under his cheek to keep himself from falling asleep. It sometimes wasn't enough. When Halsin drew close, Clover was enveloped in the same scent.

It took a great amount of trust for Clover to finally help Halsin lift the Shadow Curse and rescue Thaniel. He began to see Halsin's true heart when he very nearly made the whole world stop for him, just by giving him a place to be and a little bit of care without Clover having to look over his shoulder. Even if he still watched, he watched him differently. He defended the gateway with a ferocity and sense of purpose he could never remember feeling before; that something had meaning now. He knew the thing that Halsin would carry back with him. He did not know what he would do. But the little animal that lived in him that always told him to run was waiting for him, too.

[queenofheartlessdreams]

Night of Firsts (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

Fandom: Shadow and Bone, Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kaz Brekker asks his most valued Crow to do the unthinkable, take his virginity.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: smut, Kaz's touch aversion, death, blood, touchy men, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, etc...

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It was far too late for anyone in the town to be bustling about, any young woman or child should be sound in their bed, safe from the dangers of the night. Monsters lurked around every corner, man or beast, it was true, the freaks come out at night. 

The club, however, was still active, several games of poker still being played, dancers still upon tables and deals being forged. Music echoed from the walls as the crowded swayed, talkative and busy. The women who dared to be in the club at this time, were bold indeed. Among the drunken men, who wanted a good feeling, and all the thieves who could slit a helpless woman's throat, it was no place for a lady.

But Y/N was no lady. Belonging to the master of the Crows, Kaz 'Dirtyhands' Brekker, she had traded in her ladylike dresses a long time ago. As she nudged her way through the crowd, many men stole a glance, at the tightness of her leather pants that stretched across her ass, and the cut of her flowing shirt, but most importantly, the dagger that was strapped to her thigh, alerting any man who touched her, there would be consequences. Her black boots clicked against the tile ground as she hurried through the club, going up the stairs to her bosses office. The crowd parted as she walked by, staring at the young woman as she heaved open the doors, before slipping inside. Then knew her well, well enough as anyone goes, Y/N, the Fury, another one of Kaz Brekker's toys. 

As Y/N stepped into the office, her eyes scanned the room, which was nearly empty, besides the one and only Dirty Hands sitting behind a long desk. Y/N sighs, dropping the act as she heads over to him. To the public, she may be seen as one of his warriors, but in reality, she was one of his friends. Kaz himself, looked intimidating, stern look on his face, fashionable suit and high priced gloves. Y/N, also wore gloves, out of respect for the man who didn't like to be touched. She leaned against the tall desk as Kaz scanned her body, "Jesper said you needed something."

Kaz swallows, an action that portrayed fear onto his face, " Yes, I have a request."

Y/N brings her hand to the hilt of her knife, tightly strapped to her thigh, " Who do I have to kill?"

The man glances up, this time to her face, towards the gleam in her eyes, " It's nothing like that, it's a more personal request."

The Fury tilts her head. She wasn't used to this. Kaz and her did have a bond, but usually his personal requests went out to Jesper or Inej, the more long term members of the gang. She shrugs, shifting her weight to each of her feet, " Okay."

Kaz takes a deep breath, running a gloved hand through his hair, " Through consideration, I've been looking at my reputation as a leader. I'm 18, quite young, but that also means that I have to be intimidating. And I've come to the realization that a virgin is not intimidating."

The bluntness of the phrase takes a toll on Y/N's face, as she stutters out a response, "So then just lie. I mean, you can't touch anyone, and sex involves a lot of that."

Annoyance gleams in Kaz's eyes, along with something different, innocence. "I know. That's why I've called you here. I'd like you to take my virginity. If you'd agree to it." He adds as an afterthought. 

Y/N's jaw drops at the bold statement, before she regains her composure. He may be her friend, but he was still her boss. "Kaz..." she starts, but the words seem to get lost.

Kaz watches his Fury carefully. He saw the uncertainty in her body language, and heard the doubt in her voice. One thing was certain though, he wanted her. There was a way she made him feel that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was a tingling feeling, something that he only assumed would get better with his feelings being brought forth, but even now it was still there. Kaz looks down, maybe he was wrong. "You don't have to say yes. I just believe that I share a connection with you, and I may be broken, but I'd like to experience at least something. For all I know, I might die tomorrow, and no one wants to die a virgin."

Y/N doesn't meet his eyes, doesn't even speak up," I don't want to ruin what we already have. I care about you Kaz, but I don't want you to have to step up to this."

"I want it, " The boy whispers. He did, but he'd never done anything before. This craving, it was something deep inside of him clawing to get out.

Y/N nods, taking a deep breath before holding her head high once more, "Alright, stand up."

Kaz's head snaps up, "What?"

"You think I'm going to let you lose your virginity in an office? We're going to my bedroom." Y/N smirks. 

Kaz, follows her into a decent sized room,  one with a large bed in  the middle, draped with light blue sheets. As Y/N locks the door, Kaz stands at the foot of the bed, staring down into the sea of sheets. Sensing his fear, Y/N runs a gloved hand over his back, " Lay down."

Kaz moves over to one side of the bed, taking off his coat and shoes. He may be inexperienced, but he wasn't stupid. Sliding into the softness of the sheets, Kaz watches as Y/N takes off her boots, and crawls onto the bed, next to him.  A wave of nervousness strikes Kaz as he takes a deep breath, and another. The woman next to him, purrs, gently rubbing his back, "Have you touched yourself before?"

Kaz shakes his head, letting out a shaky stream of words, "No, I-I can't."

Y/N places a hand on his own, silk gloves meeting Kaz's leather ones, before pulling his hand down to place over the bulge in his pants. Kaz's breath shakes, as Y/N coaxes his hand to the zipper, "It's okay, I'm right here. Small steps, okay?"

Kaz nods, rubbing himself through his black boxers. It felt strange, a part of him wanted to repulse, scrub off his skin, while the other wanted to rub harder. This is what arousal feels like. Kaz thinks, as he shivers. Y/N coaxes him on, "I want you to take your cock and touch yourself. You can keep the gloves on, and you don't have to do it hard. If you want to stop, tell me, and I promise we will right away."

Kaz swallowed thickly, heart beating against his chest as he pulled down his boxers, taking his flaccid cock in one hand. He could wrap hand around it, not fully, but enough to feel something. He wasn't sure what he felt, how dirty he felt as his cock swelled in his hand, making him want to sob. But he wasn't doing this for him, he was doing it for her. With a reassuring glance, he began to drag his palm up and down his shaft, watching as it hardened against his finger tips.

Kaz laid his head back into the pillows with a sobbing whimper as is cock pulsed. He could feel everything, everything that made his forehead sticky and body tense. He could feel Y/N's body shift on the bed beside him, as he looked over with stinging eyes.  She smiled, "You're doing great, may I?"

Kaz groans, but Y/N understands the want in his voice. Carefully, she took a glove hand and placed it over his own, setting a pace as they stroked his cock. Moments later, Kaz took his hand away, leaving the cold satin of Y/N's gloves to drag against him.

Y/N watches as Kaz tilts his head back with heavy breaths as his hands clutch the sheets, twisted in his fingers. After setting a good pace, that Kaz seems adjusted to, Y/N began to pull, twisting in a slightly rough motion that caused Kaz to whimper. She continues, dragging her hand up his shaft and rubbing a thumb against the tip, where pre-cum had already begun bubbling there. Kaz's hips buck up instinctively, creating more friction as her palm rolled around his cock. 

Y/N looked up, to Kaz's squinted eyes, and open mouth, and down to his cock, how hot he looked in this disheveled state. "Kaz?" she groans, " Are you alright?"

Kaz moans, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Do you want me to keep going?"

"More," Kaz hisses, as Y/N rubs her thumb against his tip. 

He felt good, with her doing it, with her gloves rubbing against him. The filth was gone, for now, as he opened his eyes, feeling an emptiness on his cock. He watched as she slid off the side of the bed, and began to unzip her own pants. Fear coursed through Kaz's body, he wasn't ready for that yet. 

Y/N meets his eyes, sensing the fear, "Not yet, one step at a time. It's just hard to bend down in these pants." She says, slipping the leather down her feet, revealing her toned legs and a pair of scarlet panties. She unbuttons her shirt as well, leaving it open to reveal her matching bra.

Kaz scans her body as she comes closer to him, pulling her hair back as she does. In front of his cock, Y/N bends down, to face level. Oh shit, she was going to give him a blowjob. 

Y/N wiggles her ass from behind him, "Is this okay?"

Kaz nods, and Y/N begins to stroke up his shaft. He was a good size, thicker than her hand could fit around, and enjoyably long too. What a fool he'd been to keep this to himself for so long, how many people he could please with a body like his. As Y/N went down on him, felt the slickness of her inner thighs, how wet she was from her master.

Kaz groans, hips bucking into her mouth, as she gagged and hummed, taking as much as she could of his cock. This was different though, with this, his body was stimulated but his mind wasn't. His heart beat faster as he watched her take him in her mouth. Why had he made her do this? Why did he think this was a good idea? Fuck-

"Stop." Kaz groans tightly, a spinning sensation overtaking him.

Y/N releases his cock with a pop, looking up as tears form in Kaz's eyes. Kaz curls himself into a ball,  tears pricking his eyes, disgust raging through his body. Why did he think he could do this? Why would he ask her? Why would he ever be able to be normal when he could be the broken bitch of a man he was?

"Shit." Y/N curses, wiping the saliva off her chin and going to sit next to the boy. She rubs her hand against his back, in small, circular motions, "Kaz, what's wrong?"

A tremble racks through his body as Kaz looks up, "I'm sorry. I-I just can't do it."

Y/N smiles, "It's okay. No one was asking you to. If you want to stop, I'm fine with that. Do you want to tell me what was wrong?"

Kaz places his head in his hands, not wanting to make eye contact with her, "It felt good, when you were just... touching me. But then you were sucking me and I could feel you. It felt wrong, it felt forced. I felt dirty and it... it scared me. Then all these questions got into my head- why the hell did I make you do this- fuck- I'm so sorry."

Kaz takes quick breaths, matching the trembling of his body, and the whimpers that escaped from his lips. Y/N rubs circles on his back, " Kaz, it's okay that you didn't like something, I don't like blowjobs either."

For once, Kaz looks her in the eyes, his brown ones meeting her own, "Then why would you do that?"

Y/N sat back on her heels, " Because you asked me to."

Kaz shakes his head, another tremor running through his body, "No. I'm such an ass, making you do something you didn't want to. I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't," Y/N interrupts, "I'm going to get a bath ready for you, I figured you'd want to clean yourself."

Kaz, lays out on the bed, looking down at his still hard cock. His body wanted this, wanted her, showed such a reaction, but his mind was like a steel gate, never wanting to get over his past. He'd tried, with Inej, by himself, and now with Y/N. They weren't Jordie, they were nothing like Jordie, but at the same time, everything about them screamed Jordie. Sometimes, he believed that he was only using the ones he cared about to keep afloat. "No, you don't need to."

With this, he tucks his hardened cock back into his pants, showing a very prominent bulge. He picks up his coat and shoes, not looking back into the room as Y/N stands there, half naked and shocked.

------------------------

Kaz's erection doesn't go away, not before Jesper finds him at the bar, drinking his consciousness away. Jesper knew something was going on with Kaz, even before he looked down to see Kaz's predicament. Ordering two shots, Jesper hands one to his friend, "Are you gonna tell me?"

Kaz gives Jesper a sour look before rolling his eyes, "I thought I could do something but it turns out I just made a fool of myself."

The gun master looked down, finally, and laughed, "You asked Y/N and it didn't work out. Was it you or her?"

Kaz swallows the shot Jesper placed in front of him, "Me, I fucked it up. I thought I could get over my fears but it turns out I can't. Not to mention that I fucking used her."

Jesper chuckles, "What makes you say that?"

"Are you deaf!," Kaz exclaims,"I made her screw me, well attempt to at least. She didn't want that, she only did it-"

"Because she likes you." Jesper blurts out.

Kaz turns to his friend, "What?"

Jesper smirks, " We're talking about Y/N, the fucking Fury. The girl who'll cut off a guy's dick if he even looks at her the wrong way. The girl who will follow you into the fire just to make sure you get out safely. She cares about you, not because you're her boss, I mean she really cares about you. She didn't do that because you asked, she did it because she cares for you."

Kaz stares at the empty shot glass, he had to apologize, do something at least. He rushes off, leaving Jesper alone, smirking into his drink.

----------------------

Y/N was outside the club, leaning against the back wall, bricks poking into her back. She watched the entrance as women came out of the club, making sure that no men were to come and take advantage of them.

Back in her leather pants and shirt, a cloak hung from her shoulders, and the hilt of her knife was rested by her hand. As a young woman with curly blonde hair and a very revealing dress exited the club, Y/N watched as two men followed her into the street. She could hear their filthy whispers as she stalked after them, keeping to the shadows. 

She watches for a moment as the men surround the young blonde, who looks very much in distress. Sneaking across the muddy street, Y/N pauses behind the men, "Excuse me ma'am, are you alright?"

The blonde looks at her, and smiles, " Of course, I was just telling these men to leave."

The man closest to Y/N had an eye patch, straggly brown hair, and reeked of alcohol, purred in her ear, "But we don't wanna."

Another one came over, and placed his bony hand on her ass, "We'd much rather have some fun."

The blonde looks over to Y/N's new predicament, before hurrying off in the opposite direction. That was what she was supposed to do, and Y/N knew it. Once she was out of sight, Y/N focused on the man who was rubbing circles on her ass, "You have 3 seconds to get your hands off me or I will hurt you."

The man with the eye patch chuckled, grabbing her wrist," Oh yeah, with what, princess."

Y/N smirks, brandishing her knife, "With this."

The bony one hisses in her ear, "You know how to use that, hot stuff?"

She turns her head to look him in the eyes, "Do you really want to fuck around and figure out?"

With this,she stabs the knife upwards, right into the crotch of the man's pants, leaving him howling in pain. As the other man tries to pull her close to him, she slashes his wrist, hard enough to slice it in two. He screams as thick blood pours from the stump, coating the ground where his hand lay limp. 

The man lunges at her, coating the front of her shirt with his blood,almost as filthy as he was. Y/N simply side steps him, as he falls forward, before she pushes into the grimy ground. She looked around the busy street to see if anyone had caught the commotion, but if they had, no one was speaking up about it. Across the street, she catches the eye of Kaz Brekker. He watches as she rushes off, and by the next passing wagon, she has disappeared completely.

--------------------

Y/N drew herself a bath, in a large, claw-foot tub. Bubble and steaming water reached the brim of the tub as she carefully placed herself inside. Her blood coated clothes were piled in a corner on the tile, giving off a faint metallic scent when she inhaled.

The water calmed her, as she thought about the events that had happened not even an hour before. Maybe she had taken it too far, had gone too quickly, or maybe she had just messed up. It was a pleasure though, seeing Kaz in that way, feeling his hips buck under her hands, watching his skillful hands clench the sheets. She could only imagine what those hands could make her feel, how it would be to have his hands dipping inside her.

Leaning her head back on the tub, she imagined Kaz's fingers in place of her own as she thrust them in and out. Saints, it made her swell even to think of him kneeling before her, in between her legs, just the thought of it made her want to -

"Am I interrupting something?" says a voice from the doorway.

Y/N's eyes open in surprise to see Kaz in the door frame, leaning against his cane. "Usually when a door is locked, it means do not open."

Kaz walks a few paces closer to the tub, shutting the door behind him. The metal of the cane clicks against the tile floor as he does so. " I had the key."

Y/N looks up to the man, who is much more composed now, " Is there a point to you being here?"

"I understand your mad at me but-"

"Kaz, why would I be mad?" Y/N interrupts, " Because you walked out on me? I'm not mad. I understand you needed space, it was a big thing for you."

Kaz leans against the counter, "I don't want to lose your friendship, or your trust. I just-"

Y/N begins to step out of the bathtub, water slicking her skin. Out of decency, Kaz turned around, feeling a slight blush on his cheeks. Y/N sighs as she puts on a nightgown, "What do you want?"

Kaz lowers his head, "I'd like you to take my virginity."

Y/N steps over to Kaz, turning him around. Kaz avoids her eyes, looking down, past the sheer nightgown she was wearing and to the floor. "Kaz?" Y/N whispers, bringing one hand to his face and forcing him to look at her.

The feared leader was shaking internally, heart beating  quickly as he repeated, "I'd like you to take my virginity."

Y/N smiles, pushing her forehead against Kaz's chest. Her hair was damp as Kaz ran a hand through it, water slicking the leather of his gloves. Looking up, Y/N stares into the man's dark eyes, "You think you're losing your virginity in a bathroom? Go, I'll meet you in my bedroom."

Kaz does so, once again standing above the blue satin sheets, fear coursing through his body. Slowly, he takes off his shoes, then his coat, and then unbuttons the first two buttons that seemed constricting on his shirt.  Then, he goes over to sit at the edge of the bed until Y/N comes into the room, slipping her hands into a black pair of satin gloves.

"No," Kaz says, leaning back into the pillows, "Leave them off."

Y/N tilts her head, but does what he asks, laying them nicely on the edge of the bed, "You sure?"

Kaz nods as Y/N leans between his thighs, undoing the zipper and pulling down his black boxers. With a reassuring look from Kaz, she takes his cock in one hand, slowly pumping it back and forth. Her hand was warm and textured as it moved along his shaft, Kaz leaning his head back. There was that same feeling again, the filth in the pleasure. He focused on her, as a whole, her hand dragging along him, the pleasure he could feel made his cock swell with pride. 

Y/N smiled at his erection, and dragged her fingernails along the underside of his balls. Kaz moaned as she massaged them in her hand, awed at the soft feel of him. Once again, she pushed her thumb against the slit, squeezing the head slightly so beads of moisture formed at its tip. Kaz groaned, his hands going into the sheets, gripping them tightly. 

 The softness of his cock was unimaginable, as it was thrust into her hand, as Kaz's hips arched up with every stimulation. She hadn't been with a virgin in a long time, but as she watched Kaz's simple actions, she was glad she was with him. Kaz groans, feeling the pressure building in his cock, getting worse as Y/N went faster, harder. She knew he was close to coming, on the way his back arched, and the way his eyes were shut tight. "Let go, Kaz." she says, still pumping him.

The thief moans loudly as he releases, hot and sticky cum spilling over his button up shirt, and over Y/N's hand. She continues to jerk him through the orgasm, leaving the man a painting mess. "Please." he moans.

This catches Y/N off guard. The most feared person on this side of the fold, begging for her. Y/N smiles, wiping her hand on Kaz's pants before unbuttoning his shirt. The pallor of Kaz's chest gleamed in the flickering lights as his pants too were taken off, leaving him completely naked, vulnerable.  The thought was at the back of his mind though, as he watched the goddess before him kneel over his body, "Would you like me naked too?"

He nods, too overwhelmed with nerves to use his words. He could feel the cold air on his skin, everywhere. The thought made him want to cry. But he could also feel heat, radiating from Y/N's body as she climbed on top of him, taking off the sheer nightgown. He watched as she smiled down at him, before her eyes went down further, to the plumpness of her breasts, the curves of her body, down to the nakedness of her cunt, that hovered above his erection. The curious man places his gloved hands over her hips as she positioned his cock under her opening, before slowly placing him inside her. Kaz's cum slicked his shaft as Y/N slid down, stretched by his thickness. She paused, resting an inch or so above his hips to look at Kaz. 

He nods again, digging his fingers into her skin, pushing her further onto him. Y/N begins to move slowly up and down, occasionally rolling her hips getting a moaning reaction from Kaz. Saints, she felt so good, how tight she was over him, how warm. He watched as her pace began to quicken, as her breasts began to bounce in unison, as sticky strands of his cum coated her thighs, rubbing against his own hips to create a white masterpiece. He moaned at the pleasure, but he needed more. He needed control. He needed to please her. He needed to fuck her until she screamed.

Sliding his hands over her waist, Kaz flips his Fury over, cock still inside her, but now he was the one on top. Y/N groans as Kaz begins to slowly thrust, picking up her legs to get a deeper angle. Saints, this was amazing, seeing her beneath him, having so much control over her like she was his pet. His cock pulsed inside her as her walls clenched around him and she released a loud moan, one that the inexperienced Kaz took as pain. He slowed, looking down at her, the sweat prickling her skin, taking it all in, " Are you alright?"

Y/N hums, lifting her hips to fit more of him inside her, " I want you to fuck me hard, Kaz. I want to scream your name. I want to be yours."

Kaz smirks, driving himself back into her cunt with enough force to bruise her cervix. Y/N's back arches as she screams in pleasure, toes curled as he continues to thrust, feeling the pressure build inside of him. Saints, she felt so good. He was going to burst. Once again, Y/N sensed this and whimpered through her moans, "Please, Kaz. Please cum inside of me!"

A few more rapid thrusts and Kaz spills himself inside the warmth of her cunt, groaning as he continues to fuck her through his orgasm. Y/N writhes underneath him as he pulls out, watching his seed drip from her cunt, coating the satin sheets underneath. 

There was silence for a moment, only heavy breathing filled the room, smelling of sex and sweat. Y/N hums as she rolls off the bed, already feeling the bruising of her cervix. Kaz's warm cum leaks from her, dripping down her inner thighs as she walks to the bathroom, pausing at the door to look at her lover, who was in what seemed to be disbelief. " I'm going to fill up a bath for you, okay?"

When there is no response, she calls out again, louder this time, "Kaz, are you okay?"

He nods, looking over to the naked girl in the doorway, "Come here."

Y/N smiles, walking over to him and kneeling alongside him on the bed, "What is it?"

Without hesitation, Kaz grabs Y/N's face in his hands and presses his lips to hers. Moments pass by as their lips glide together, before Kaz pulls back, face flushed, "That was my first kiss."

Y/N smiles, brushing a strand of sweaty hair from his forehead, "Tonight's a night of firsts I guess."

[velariscalling]

Poison - A Cassian Imagine

Characters: Cassian x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Cassian and Reader have some history, and when she captures him for Hybern, they pick up where they left off, despite how she may have just cursed him to death.

Warnings: Smut, oral (both receiving), restraints, wingplay for a sec, mentions/description of injury, mentions of death, Cassian is literally poisoned.

A/N: Ok my first smut is here, please be kind lol. I'm actually much more nervous posting this than I was with my first fic, which is crazy! Also, happy birthday to the wonderful @sarawritestories! I hope you like it my lovely <3

Disclaimer: GIF isn't mine - credit to whoever it belongs to.

“Very good work, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Cassian stifled a groan as he rolled his neck to the side, cracking the bones that had gone stiff in his slumber. The voices he heard continued, but muffled as if he were underwater, and his vision swam so much that he nearly gagged.

He moved to reach an arm up to rub the back of his neck, needing to relieve the dull ache he felt, when he realised his hands weren’t moving. They couldn’t move. The chains rattled around his wrists over the alarm sounding in his brain as he snapped back into action, seeing the world in stark clarity.

“Oh, you’re awake,” A melodic voice chirped up from a few metres away. Why did that voice sound so familiar? “I’m glad. I missed you, actually.”

Cassian lifted his head and his eyes focused on the female stood in the shadows, leaning against the wall casually. Something sinister glinted from her hands in the flickering light - something metal, he realised with a jolt. No. Remain calm. That’s the one thing he would never forget from his training - never let your opponent know what you’re truly feeling. Even if you’re completely shitting it. “What is this? Or better yet, who are you?” He asked with lethal calm, still training his eyes on the dark silhouette, coaxing her to take the bait and fear him.

A huff sounded from the darkness. “I’m hurt, Cassian,” She stepped forward, illuminating her features only slightly, but enough for him to make out her exaggerated pout. “Really hurt. Here I was thinking we could have had something, and you don’t even remember me? We are definitely not off to a good start.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot, sighing like a disappointed mother with a shake of her head.

He squinted, zoning in on her features. Her stature, her hair, her eyes. It wasn’t until his gaze met the intensity of her stare that the memories began to wash over him like ice cold water.

~~~

Leading an army into war was never going to be an easy task. Cassian knew this - it was not the first time he’s done so of course. But when so many of his front line had been struck down by Hybern soldiers, it was a little difficult to remain level-headed. For the first time in his centuries of experiences, Cassian felt like his control was slipping from his grasp.

People were coming at him from every direction, soldiers informing him of their comrades’ predicaments, and not a single one of these people seemed to scent the blood soaking through his leathers, or notice the wound gaping from his arm. Cassian winced every time something brushed against it or he had to move the arm, but continued to tend to the injured as much as he could before sending them to the healers tent.

“You’re hurt,” A soft voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned to look in the direction the voice had come from, only to spy a female, not looking to be more than a couple of centuries old. A healer, it seems.

“You would be the first to notice,” Cassian responded gruffly. He couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was, like an angel come to help him during his time of need, but he quickly brushed off the thought, deeming it inappropriate in the current time and place. And frankly, irrelevant. “It’s fine, I have things to sort out-”

“Cassian, if I may,” she interrupted, eyes careful as she gauged his reaction to her urgency. “You’ll bleed out if you don’t get someone to take a look at this soon. Please, come with me to my tent and I will fix you up. It should only take a few minutes at most.”

Cassian’s brain ticked back and forth, weighing up the options. He knew that his priority should be his men - it's always been the army first, himself later - but she was just so inviting. And as the gash on his arm throbbed with pain, he found himself nodding at her in agreement.

Her tent was small, and more or less bare. He didn’t even notice the lack of a bed, or even a blanket to sleep on. Only a chair which she gently coaxed him onto as she opened a small kit, mixing together an ointment to apply to his arm. She left it on the side to sit for a moment, presumably to let the compounds mould together before use, and approached him with a wet rag.

The way she peered down at him intently as she cleaned his arm had his cheeks flushing from something other than pain and stress. He silently thanked his already red cheeks for concealing any giveaway that the intimidating general was really just a big softie. He flicked his eyes up to watch as she worked, and couldn’t help but take in all the details of her face: the slight squint as she concentrated, the way her eyes flicked back and forth to ensure there were no bits of dirt remaining in the blood, and how her tongue poked out between her teeth as she focused. There was something else about her as well that he couldn’t quite pin-point… something familiar, as if he recognised her, but also something- something wrong. Like her features had been rearranged to conceal someone he used to know.

“Do you often stare at your healers?” She asked as the stepped away to dispose of the rag, interrupting his train of thought. Her tone was chastising, but the ever so subtle cheek to her voice gave away the tease.

Cassian bristled, fumbling for a moment as he felt like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t, and frantically searched for a way to jump back on top of the situation as she shook her ointment, seemingly satisfied that it was ready. “Only the pretty ones,” He grinned smugly, completely in control in that effortless, almost arrogant way of his.

The healer raised her eyebrows as she approached him, an amused glint in her eyes as she steadied his arm with one hand and prepared the ointment with the other. “This might hurt,” she said shortly, before pressing it against his wound. Cassian hissed in pain, gritting his teeth together to try to dampen the blow. This was worse than actually getting the gash in the first place, he thought.

A few moments passed, which felt ridiculously long to Cassian, until the female straightened her back and took her hands away from his arm. “All done,” she quipped, before turning away from him to dispose of her equipment once again. Cassian unclenched his fists at his side in an attempt to relax, despite the tingling in his arm resembling a dance troupe of a million needles tapping away on his bloody cut. “You might want to sit there for a moment, Cassian. Not everyone reacts well to the medicine, I would like to make sure you’re okay before you get back out there.”

Cassian shook his head softly. “I’ll be fine, thank you for your care,” he began, ready to brush off her advice with a wave of his hand. He attempted to stand up from the chair, using the armrests to push himself up, but he barely rose a few inches before his head swam as if he’d been dealt an uppercut to the chin, and he fell back into the seat with a gasp. His body was suddenly heavier than he’d ever felt it before, every single limb feeling like it had at least three sand bags attached. “Shit…” he mumbled, his vision scattered with sparkling dots and patches of darkness.

“Just relax, Cassian…”

Her voice sounded distant, like a call to slumber, beckoning him to fall victim to the darkness. And as his head lulled to the side, he allowed it to coax him into the abyss, just as he saw the glamour flicker off her face.

~~~

“Y/N.”

“Surprise, Cassian,” She grinned as she stepped closer, completely leaving the darkness in order for Cassian to see her face - her real face.

“So, you poisoned me,” Cassian deadpanned, after his memories fully returned. “You posed as a healer, and infected me with poison through my cut.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she watched it all come back to him, piece by piece fitting together in a puzzle to create a complete picture. “And didn’t I put on such a spectacular performance?” Cassian rolled his eyes, averting his eyes from her piercing gaze as she continued talking at him. “You were so enamoured with me. And all from one pure act of kindness? So easy to please, General. I’m just a little offended I didn’t look like me at the time.”

“Enough changing the subject,” Cassian growled, growing increasingly irritated, not only at the female in front of him but also the fact that he was not in control. He needed control. “Who glamoured you? The King himself? I wouldn’t put it past his petty ass.”

Y/N scoffed, delighted to see his agitation. “Does it matter? You’re here now, exactly as planned.” She ran a menacing finger down the edge of the blade in her hand, watching the shine of the metal. The contrast was stark - the deadly glint of the dagger against her soft, delicate skin. But Cassian knew that that was her own, constant glamour. There was nothing delicate about her - she was more deadly than any weapon.

As Cassian tested the chains round his wrists binding him to the armrests, he realised the grave mistake he made. He roared in pain as the chains sizzled his flesh, and Y/N couldn’t help but bite her lip to surpress a grin at the way his muscles tensed and rippled as he writhed. “I wouldn’t bother, darling. Faebane chains. Aren’t they fantastic?”

Gritting his teeth, Cassian opened his previously clenched eyes, setting on her with an air of distaste. “Anything else up your sleeve?” The question was dry, sick to death of the games already, but the excitement practically vibrating off Y/N told him she wasn’t finished with him just yet.

“Well, maybe just one tiny detail. You may have woken up from that poison, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still in your system. You’ll die without the antidote.” She said idly, eyebrows raised with a slight mocking pout on her lips as she examined her fingernails without a care in the world.

Cassian startled. He knew there was more to the story, of course there was, but that is not what he was expecting. His mind whirred with a way to get out of this situation, a way to turn the tables in his favour, but he kept coming up short. “What’s the point, Y/N? Huh? You never even told me why I’m here in the first place, I think it’s only fair that if I’m gonna die, I should at least know why I’m going down.”

“Well of course I was going to tell you, I’m not a monster,” Y/N laughed - actually laughed. “You’re here because we can’t have you commanding those Illyrian bastards to victory. Without you, they’re lost, leaving the goal wide open for a win for my side. Silly little baby, aren’t you?” She went to tap his nose - condescending little bitch, Cassian thought, and turned his head to the side with a grimace, which Y/N did not like one bit. That playful grin on her face was gone in an instant, replaced by a face so stoney and cold that even the worst of creatures would be afraid. In that split second of rage, Y/N grabbed Cassian’s jaw with her whole hand and yanked him back to face her where she was suddenly inches away from him. “That was rude, Cassian.”

Then, he snapped. He finally snapped, and her hand around his jaw, commanding him as if she were his superior was the breaking point. Her control was his breaking point as he spat in her face, completely losing his grip on the leash to his anger. But Y/N… oh no, Y/N wasn’t so easily perturbed, and as Cassian’s rage subsided and he watched her eye him with malice, he remembered as much.

“So feisty,” she purred as she wiped her face with her hand, eyes not leaving his pissed expression for a minute. She just loved the way his jaw ticked with anger, and how sharp the lines of his face became as he watched her every move, just like he used to do… well, with less anger and more lust. “You used to love when I took control, Cassian, remember?”

Gods, he remembered, of course he did. He remembered their secret rendezvous, the way they snuck around not to get caught. He remembered how she would crawl on top of him agonisingly slowly, and kiss all the way up his abs and chest, leaving her scent all over his body. Or how they’d wind up cramped in a tiny storage closet, her back pressed against the wall and her nails digging into his skin as he took her as his own, stifling their sounds of pleasure at the mere whisper of someone walking past. But what he loved most was when his face was buried between her thighs as she crossed her ankles, locking him in, his own hips rutting against the bed for any sort of friction he could get amidst the desperation to draw high after high from her.

“Oh,” Her voice dipped in honey shook him out of his reverie as he remembered where he was, hands bound and body poisoned. He caught her eyes once more, and a gasp escaped him as he saw just how blown out her pupils had become, almost sucking up any light remaining. “I think someone still likes that idea.” It took Cassian a moment to realise what she meant, and just how sloppy he had become. During his trip down memory lane, he had allowed his scent to shift, completely exposing just how turned on she still had the power to make him.

With eyes like the devil, Y/N leaned forward and licked a hot stripe up the side of Cassian’s neck, dropping her dagger in favour of caging him in with her arms. “Remember this?” She asked, her voice dripping with seduction as she moved to brush her lips up his clenched jaw, a hand slowly travelling down his front. Once her lips had reached his ear and she nibbled on the soft flesh of the lobe, her fingers ghosted across the growing bulge in his lap. “And this?” She whispered, her breath on his ear making him shiver as she squeezed lightly, feeling him through his leathers. She bit her lip - he was just as big as she remembered. Cassian grunted at the feeling, teeth clenched in a feeble attempt not to give himself over so easily, despite the fact that they both knew it was useless.

Y/N pulled away far too soon, leaving Cassian feeling cold without her touch. “Are you tempted yet? I’m sure there are better ways we could be using this time, don’t you think?” She began to circle his chair, eyeing him up like a predator would stalk their prey. Oh, how she loved seeing him try to fight it, fight her, fight his inevitable arousal. It was already thick in the air, weighing down on them both, and he was only lying to himself.

“Better ways such as letting me go so I can lead my armies?” Cassian countered. Gods, he was so adorable when he tried to steer the conversation away from what he truly wants. His voice was so tense, almost like he was in pain, trying to reign in his instincts to ravage her… not that there was a whole lot he could do from his position. But any self-restraint was shattered once Y/N had made her way behind him and trailed a delicate finger along the edge of his wing. A strangled groan left his mouth as soon as she made contact, just like she used to do, her nail grazing the fragile skin.

“Don’t be silly, Cassian,” she crooned, breathing hot air onto the trail of fire she just left on his wing. She made her way back around to his front, studying him like she was able to see right through him. With her lips curled up wickedly, she leaned in once again, placing her hands on both of his muscled thighs. “Are you nervous, General?”

“No,” Cassian breathed, throat tight and strained. A lie.

“Do you want me?” A shift of her hands, closer to where he was straining against his pants.

“Yes.”

The word came out too quickly, and Cassian could have cursed his mind for running on auto-pilot and blurting it out, but he knew it was the truth. He couldn’t take it anymore. He was desperate, and if his needs weren’t sated, he would become a wild animal bucking and thrashing to get out of these chains, uncaring if they burned all the way through his wrists.

“Say it again. I need to know you mean it.”

“Yes, Y/N,”

The next few moments were a blur, but all he knew was that he felt the chill air on his cock, hard and leaking, and that Y/N was already on her knees. Fuck. Her eyes glimmered with a sinful satisfaction at how red and throbbing she’d managed to already make him, and she leaned forward to gently lick the bead of pre-cum that sat on his tip. Cassian shivered, wanting nothing more than to wind his fingers in her hair and push her down on his cock, but all he could do was watch. Y/N had always been in control, really, and a part of him buried deep down had always liked it. His waiting cock pulsed at the thought, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, a wide grin spreading across her face before she dipped her head and took him in her mouth.

Cassian’s head tipped back in pleasure, his body completely at her mercy as she bounced her head up and down, taking him like only she could. “Fuck, you were always so good at this,” he groaned, fists clenched to make up for the way he longed to touch her. “Take me so fucking deep.”

Y/N moaned around him as she took him as deep as she possibly could at his words, the vibrations causing him to buck his hips up into her mouth. His cock hit the back of her throat and she gagged, an obscene wet sound filling the room as she pulled her lips off him with a pop. The sight was truly erotic, as a string of saliva connected her mouth to his weeping cock.

“Why’d you stop?” Cassian panted, ignoring the desperate tinge to his voice. Ignoring how he’d become a puppet for her to play with. “I was getting close, come on, just-” He made to reach for her again, before he remembered the lesson he’d learnt earlier. Y/N only watched on, amused.

“You’re getting weak,” she tutted as she rose from the floor. “Have you forgotten, Cassian? You can’t cum unless you can make me cum first. Those were always the rules…” she trailed off as she undid the buttons of her leathers, pulling them down along with her panties in front of him. Putting on a show that he was only allowed to watch, and not participate in. For now.

Cassian’s eyes bulged as she carefully climbed on top of him, making sure to avoid the chains and planting her feet either side of him. She stood, holding onto the back of the chair for balance, and it was then that she lifted one leg, planting her foot next to where she held the chair, exposing her glistening core to him. “Are you gonna be able to make me cum, Cassian? Or has it been too long that you’ve lost your touch? It would be a shame to leave that cock of yours desperate and leaking, but rules are rules.”

“Please,” Cassian felt the shock as Y/N’s eyebrows rose at his plea. She didn’t think he’d ever begged before. He was even surprised at himself, but didn’t have enough time to think about it. No, there was no time, he needed to act, and act now. “Please Y/N come on, I can do it, just let me taste-” His words were cut off as Y/N pressed herself against his mouth, turning his rambling into muffled noises.

Cassian responded immediately, as if a shot of adrenaline had been released into his veins. His tongue flicked out, lapping up her wetness that had been pooling in her panties ever since he woke up. He groaned at the taste, plunging his tongue inside her, trying to taste as much of her sweet nectar as he possibly could. “You’ve missed this, haven’t you?” Y/N gasped, her tone almost patronising, but Cassian didn’t care. Quite the opposite, actually - this side of her always had him craving more and more. She grabbed hold of his hair that had long since fallen out of it’s half-bun, and began rocking her hips against his face. “Look what a little time off has reduced you to. A desperate, begging mess, just for me.”

He was in a state of utter bliss. Cassian held his tongue out obediently, allowing Y/N to ride him as she pleases. She spread her wetness over his mouth and chin, coating the stubble prickling on his skin, and she moaned as her clit rubbed deliciously against his nose. “Stay there for me General, that’s it,”

Cassian groaned as she used him for her own pleasure, content to be her personal fuck toy. But as his knuckles turned white with the force that he was gripping the armrests with, it was clear how much he wanted to use those bound hands. He wanted to slap that ass as she rocked her hips until his handprint was burned into her skin. He wanted to reach up and play with her nipples that he knew were hard and perky for him. And better yet, he wanted to explore even further inside her with his fingers, further than his tongue could reach, and have her release crashing down on him.

A wave of need washed over him and he grunted, moving to suck her clit into his mouth. Her balance wavered for a moment as she yelped, and Cassian couldn’t help but smirk. The one thing he could take control of in this situation was making her cum, so he vowed to do just that. He switched fervently between sucking her clit and licking bold stripes up her centre, determined now to give her an orgasm like it was his entire life’s purpose. The lewd noises coming from where his mouth met her core was enough to make her shiver as Cassian coaxed moan after moan from her.

“Getting close?” Cassian found his voice for a moment and growled against her skin, hell-bent on sending her over that edge. He’d do it if it was the last thing he ever did - which could end up being a possibility, strangely. But the Illyrian had completely forgotten about the poison eating away from him on the inside, that would be a problem he’d deal with later. After he felt her essence dripping down his chin and neck, staining his scent for weeks.

By the way Y/N’s hips stuttered as she attempted to speed up, he knew the answer. She was too proud to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but those pretty moans increasing in pitch sang to him his praise. As she neared her high, Y/N gripped Cassian’s hair and yanked it even harder, sending his eyes rolling back in his head as he helped her chase it, beckoning and pulling her to release. “Fuck, Cass,”

Hearing his name tumble from her lips as the reigns of her power slipped from her grasp had Cassian devouring her like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. His victory shone in his eyes as he watched her mouth gape open and felt her legs tremble, and her screams filled the dark room as she free fell into the best orgasm she’d ever had from someone using only their mouth. She had to admit, he had quite the talent with that tongue of his. Meanwhile, Cassian was in heaven. He didn’t care that he was bound to a chair in chains that would burn his flesh if he moved. He didn’t care that poison was rotting his insides minute by minute. He didn’t care that he was dying, and it was all her fault. All he cared about was the blissed out look on her face as she rode out her high on his face, and the taste that he prayed wouldn’t leave his mouth until his last breath.

A moment passed and Y/N regained her composure, sliding off his body and taking back her position of authority in front of him. Minus the clothes on her lower half, of course. “Not bad,” she quipped, plucking up her underwear from where it had been carelessly discarded.

Cassian chuckled darkly. “Whatever. You can pretend that wasn’t the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in a long time, I don’t care. You still taste just as delicious as I remember.” His eyes burned into her as she dressed herself, once again hiding herself from him, but he felt like he could see right through those leathers. “So?” He said expectantly, nodding down to where his cock was still hard and throbbing with need.

“Oh, Cassian…” The way Y/N shook her head and laughed quietly to herself had Cassian’s insides churning. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth, he had a funny feeling that he wasn’t going to like it. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you? You gave me what I wanted and I thank you for that, but I’d much prefer to leave you here, desperate and needy and pathetic… oh, and dying.”

This bitch is a fucking psycho.

Cassian clenched his jaw so hard he thought it may shatter on impact. “And how might I get this antidote?” He seethed, his voice shaking with how hard he was trying to remain calm, as he always tried to do, whilst simultaneously attempting to ignore the humiliation of having his cock exposed and still ridiculously stood to attention.

Y/N sighed dramatically, placing a hand casually on her hip. “You know Cassian, I really don't want to kill you, truth be told. I’d like to keep you alive. But I’m not allowed to give you that antidote until the war is over and Hybern has won.” 

“So you’ll give it to me?”

“Depends. On how long the battle lasts. You might not last as long.”

Dead silence filled the room. Cassian didn’t deem this worthy of an answer. He was done with childish wordplay. He was bound, exposed, powerless and dying, and he intended to find a way out of all of that.

“As for that blowjob,” she continued, breaking the silence. Cassian raised his eyebrows, hating himself for the interest that bubbled up inside him, and also for the way his cock twitched. “Well… I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

With that, Y/N stepped back into the shadows, disappearing without a trace, leaving Cassian helpless in two ways. Searching for a way to free and save himself, and unable to relieve the throbbing ache from between his legs. At least, not until she returns…

UMMMMM PART 2 IDK???

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

They Mates - with Y/N Pt 4

Summary - Hybern’s a problem (but when is he not), and this whole Cauldron situation… Out. Of. Hand. Based on Ch 19 of ACOMAF

Notes/Other Warnings - ‘Vulgar gestures’, language, my grammar. As always lines/plot points directly or heavily inspired by the series itself. 1.4k words. 2nd pov again for a more intimate look into Y/N and Az’s relationship.

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Masterlist

You stood with Azriel near the window in the sitting room of the townhouse. It was snowing lightly outside, dusting the outside world. Cassian lounged near the fire, next to Mor. He felt tense, like an animal waiting to jump out of its cage after spending too much time cooped up. Amren was not present—where she was, you did not know. You all were waiting for your High Lord and Feyre to return from their trip to the Bone Carver for information. 

As you watched the snow build up outside your mind wandered back to earlier that morning. Nearly five-hundred years Azriel had been your mate, and still every morning was utter bliss. You could still feel his teeth scraping lightly across the shell of your ear and his lips trailing—

“Amren’s right,” Rhysand said.

You snapped out of your thoughts to see him standing in the threshold. Feyre stood next to him.

“You are like dogs, waiting for me to return home. I ought to buy treats for the lot of you,” Rhys continued.

Cassian flipped him off, the tension in his system still evident. You stepped forward to smack Cassian’s shoulder. The general gave you a withering look. The High Lord of Night narrowed his eyes at the pair of you. You stepped back as Feyre, who looked chilled headed for the armchair near the hearth. You returned to your spot next to your mate who stood in contemplation, a constant for him.

“How’d it go,” Mor asked to quickly glance between Feyre and Rhys, who had finally stepped into the room. 

“The Bone Carver,” Rhys said with a sigh, “has too much time on his hands considering how often he likes to pry into others people’s business.”

You reached for Azriel’s hand, unsure of what to do in the moment. Your mate didn’t protest, his shadows swirling around your wrist for a few moments. You could see Feyre’s eyes dart to the sight. The mortal said nothing.

Cassian broke through the silence, his hands falling to brace his knees. “But…?”

“But, the busybody can be useful, when he chooses,” Rhys replied with another sigh. “He informed us that the Cauldron was originally hidden at the bottom of the frozen lake in Lapplund, but vanished a while ago. But three of the feet on which the Cauldron used to stand were cleaved from it, in an attempt for power. Each foot was hidden in a different temple.”

You didn’t exactly need Rhys to spell out the rest for you. People were after the Cauldron, after its power again. “Shit,” you murmured. Cassian, to your surprise said nothing, only sat up a bit straighter.

“Cesere, Sangravah, and Itica,” the high lord listed out. “The King of Hybern seeks to return the Cauldron to its full glory.”

It was a suspicion most everyone in the room had. You could sense the grimness of it all, the way the room shifted even though most were expecting it. You glanced to Mor who looked back at you, giving a well this isn’t good look. 

“The mortal queens have one part of the Book, Tarquin the other,” Rhys finished.

You sucked in a breath before Azriel stepped forward, his shadows lightening from around his form. “I will contact my sources in the Summer Court about the other half of the Book of Breathings on where it is hidden. I can aldo fly to the human world. See if I can locate their half before we ask them for it.”

The High Lord of Night shook his head. “I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, Azriel. Not anyone outside this room, except for Amren.”

“They can be trusted, Rhysand,” you defend as Azriel’s shadows grew thicker for a moment before lightening up. Az let go of your hand, fists curling slightly, staring at his high lord. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“I,��we, are not taking risks where the Cauldron or the Book is concerned,” Rhys responded calmly. Rhys returned his spymaster’s stare. 

You reached for your mate’s hand, and his fingers slowly uncurled, eyes drifting away from Rhysand’s face and back to your own. You gently intertwined your fingers with his.

“So what do you have planned,” Mor asked. 

“Well,” Rhys responded as he picked at absolutely nothing on his leathers. A habit you had noticed he got when growing up. “The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples for a piece of the Cauldron, which, as far as I am concerned, is an act of war.”

“Of course he wants war,” You interjected more strongly than you had anticipated. “For the Mother’s sake we were an ally to the humans during…the War. He would never dare sway you at risk of revealing his plans.”

Cassian nodded in agreement before adding, “Amarantha’s cronies likely reported to him Under the Mountain.”

“Hybern and his forces successfully infiltrated our lands, without detection. I have every intention of returning the favor.” Your high lord straightened himself up slightly.

“How?” Mor asked, before you could. 

“We go to Hybern to bring the Cauldron back or go to nullify it.” 

You thought you might just laugh at that. “Hybern would already have countless wards to protect it.” 

You could feel Az’s thumb over the back of your hand, gently rubbing as if to try and ease some of the tension from your body. “Y/N’s right. We would need to find a way to get through them, undetected,” your mate added.

“Then we start, now while we hunt down the Book. We do it swiftly, so by the time we have both halves we can get through without word spreading quickly,” Rhys said like it was the simplest solution possible—the simplest task possible.

“And how qre you planning to retrieve the Book?” Cassian added.

“These objects are spelled to each high lord and can only be found using their power.”

You looked to Feyre, almost apologetically. Thrown into this life and world and she was being asked to find pieces of the Book of Breathings itself using powers she received because she died. A shuddering feeling went through you. As if in defense of the girl you looked at Rhys. “You don’t know that it will work.”

Rhys smiled slightly. “True—but there is a way to test it.”

“Mother’s tits! Here we go again,” Cassian grumbled from his place besides Mor. 

Your eyes danced over to your mate whose eyes had narrowed slightly, your fingers still intimately intertwined.

“With your abilities, Feyre ,” Rhys began, ignoring his Inner Circles words, “you might just might be able to find the half of the Book in the Summer Court. To be certain, to make sure when it counts, when we need it, when we need you, we’re going on another trip… see if you can find an object that I’ve been missing for quite some time.”

You let out another heavy sigh knowing exactly where this was going, Az still rubbing his thumb over your hand.

“Shit,” Mor groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“Where,” Feyre asked tremulously.

“The Weaver,” Azriel responded. His thumb stoped rubbing your hand. 

“Who is the Weaver,” the new fae asked.

“An ancient and wicked creature,” Azriel responded with a sharp exhale, that tickled the back of your ear. “Who should remain unbothered,” thr spymaster shot in Rhysand’s direction.

Rhys pushed on. “I want to see of Feyre can identify the object amongst the Weaver’s trove.”

“Oh! By the Cauldron!!” Mor exclaimed. You couldn’t disagree with her.

“The Weaver,” Feyre began to press, “the Bone Carver. Can you just call someone by a name?”

You let out a soft chuckle with a slight angling of your head. She had a point. Something in the sound your momenary joy eased the shadowsinger. 

“What about adding another name to that list?” Rhysand asked Feyre who had finally seemed to warm up.

A few grumbles sounded about the room, including your own.

“Emissary,” Rhys said ignoring the room. “For the human realm,” Rhys clarified, looking to you as if ensuring you weren’t about to be fired from your position.

Good, Azriel thought to himself. You needn’t make any more travels than you were doing at present as Rhysand’s emissary in every other aspect. One less place for you to be caught in something dangerous. One less thing to pull you from his arms in the morning, and leave half of the bed empty at night. Truth was, even after nearly five-hundred years together, all he wanted to do was lay in bed with you and never leave the comfort of your embrace. Too bad the world had other plans.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria, @5onedirection5, @emryb, @azrielrot

[taygra5shaon]

If your Durge were a character that can accompany you on the adventure. How do you imagine your recruitment would be? Oh your interaction with Dark urge?

Edit: Name your Durge's mission

ohoohohoh! that's a really interesting thing, how Jacq would be as a companion. I admit, this is a thing I thought a lot even before reading this message, and @popex-springpinter thanks you so much for your interesting questions!❤️

SO! I had imagined that the player meet Jacq on the beach, or among the goblin corpses near the mind flayer stuck in the wreckage.

He is extremely confused, covered in blood and a bit dazed, with his life bar in half (he almost split his head in half by hitting it in the nautiloid's capsule to get out).

For a moment jacq almost looks like he's about to attack, but he shakes his head and stops.

Here there is the possibility of making a perception roll, and so we understand that he is confused and that it was as if an instinct was pushing him to attack.

I imagined the dialogue and the questions, which vary on: did he kill all these people, if they are okay, or what happened (or attack, it depends)

Jacq takes a while to answer, as if his voice had not been used for a while, and he answers that he doesn't know, and that he woke up on the beach with no memory and with all the dead around him.

He asks if he can be updated on what happened to them, and they need to be explained what coelomorphosis is, and then he would like to get rid of the parasite, and suggests that they continue together to find out what can be done.

if you accept him into the group, Jacq is bold, energetic and wild, kinda sweet and friendly, but sometimes , in some interactions with NPCs, he give some disturbing comments that show his dark side, commenting in a bloody and creepy way.

he is an exceptional shadow druid warrior, with a strong inclination towards arcane magic.

He have no idea of what privacy is, and he is prone to doing strange and stupid things (like drinking from auntie ethel's well, or licking a dead spider).

As said before, he is a cannibal (he and astarion have no problem eating/drinking from corpses), has no idea how to cook (he has no problem eating raw meat), likes alcohol, but has a nearly non-existent tolerance (he gets drunk easily, but drinks little, due to the severe headaches he has).

It is easy to gain approval with him, you have to be a mix between heroic, kind and cruelly bloodthirsty and chaotic.

when you have a good enough approval(25), Jacq reveals to you that he has no idea who he is, and that his memories are gone (he just see red and the only real ones he has are some faded memories of his childhood, before bhaal), but more important, he has dark instincts and very bloody thoughts, and has no idea why.

(I'll leave Jacq's romance sheet aside, or I'll never finish it)

is canon the sleepwalking murder of the bard, and Jacq wakes the player up in panic asking for help. here it's very similar to how you react with Astarion when he tries to bite the player, you can help him or chase him away (or attack him).

If you have a high approval (40) Jacq reveals to you the visits of Sceleritas Fell, and the things the little monster says.

As with Shadowheart and Astarion, you can help Jacq become a good person (repressing his dark urges and be free of bhaal), or encourage him to embrace them (and pursue the destiny of bhaal's chosen one).

The second act is interesting in his storyline, because Ketheric and a shitload of people recognize him, but of course no one really says anything (Jacq is very uncomfortable but at the same time enthralled by the moonrise towers, and he's looking for answers).

The dialogue with the bone sister is very hard for him, and if the player tries to defend him from her, there's a good increase in approval.

THEN, then, let's not forget the part with the ancient brain and the three chosen ones, Jacq dissociates for a moment, looking at Orin and Gortash, and feels anger mix with pain and longing, with a bonus of a terrible headache. He almost blows up the hideout when he tries to get closer, the player prevents him.

I imagine that in act 3, when he regains some of his memory, jacq will find himself in conflict with karlach about gortash, she wants to kill him, he instead wants to try to reconnect with him.

here the player will have to choose whether to kill gortash or not, and if he finally does, he will lose a lot of approval (-10), and if the approval is not high enough, he will leave the group.

(wow, i wrote a lot, i'll stop here for now. i hope this is enough as an idea of ​​how jacq is as a character....)

thanks again, I love when people ask me things about him, and I'm sorry if I take some time to answer it, but I will get it, no worry!

(I ask forgiveness for my English, and for any errors I may have written, love you all, Ciaoooo 👋🙃)

[evilkennedy]

How to Heal

Pairing: Halstarion (Halsin/Astarion BG3)

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Astarion hasn’t been able to feed the entire time he and the gang have been in the Underdark. Even vampire spawn have their limits.

Warnings: none! Just whumpy with some fluff

While Astarion hadn’t quite gotten used to being able to feed whenever he pleased, it was unsettling for his stomach to be aching just as it had beneath Cazador’s control. The man was sadistic in many ways, one of the many being his enjoyment in practically starving his spawn, Astarion included, only throwing them a plagued and half-dead rat every few tendays so that they wouldn’t decay prematurely. He enjoyed playing with them— manipulating their survival and toying with their very meager existences like a puppet master attached to a puppet’s strings. Despite being severed, Astarion felt that same hunger in the pit of his stomach now in the Underdark, just as they approached the shadow-cursed lands, another area in which he would not be able to feed. To say that the sensations were overwhelming and stirring up memories he’d like to pretend were easily forgotten— would be an understatement.

The group had been traveling for what felt like ages, Astarion whined and moaned about it for the first few hours, but the more they continued, the more unwell he’d begun to feel. The grumbling of his stomach had turned into a trembling in his bones, as well as an exhaustion that blanket his entire body. He felt heavy and light all at once, something he’d gotten used to feeling beneath Cazador’s thumb, but not so much now that he was expected to play his part in a team. He wouldn’t dare show an ounce of weakness lest they decide he wasn’t worth keeping around. He was merely a vampire spawn, after all, a liability and nowhere near as heroic as his tadpole infected companions. His worth was located somewhere between his slender fingers and beneath the hem of his trousers, and perhaps on a good day, in the blade of his dagger. Regardless, he kept marching forward, just as a soldier was expected to do, just as Shadowheart and Karlach set about doing feet before him. He’d fallen behind greatly, and hadn’t noticed the Druid’s worried hazel eyes trained on his body, though when the large elf decided to speak, it nearly scared the much smaller of the pair directly out of his skin.

“Astarion, are you feeling quite alright?” Halsin had managed to fall into step beside the pale elf at some point. He had half a mind to bite the man’s head off at the question, how dare he assume that Astarion was anything but? He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms indignantly before formulating an annoyed response.

“What makes you think that I am not? You nosey oaf.” He hissed, gritting his teeth as he pointedly marched onward. Though it was as if mentioning it had really made Astarion acknowledge just how horribly he had been feeling. He felt warm, uncomfortably so, and yet he was still chilled, practically shivering against the two combatant sensations taking over his frail body. Halsin gave him a look that said he didn’t believe a word of what he’d just said, and Astarion was going to let him have a piece of his mind about it, spat that he didn’t need the Druid’s pity, nor did he need his concern, but his tongue sat heavier in his mouth. He couldn’t will himself to speak as he swayed a bit, tingling making its way down his limbs for a particularly terrifying moment. He didn’t know if he was going to vomit or faint, but neither of the two sounded appetizing.

“Steady now, little star. Stop a moment, I am not trying to belittle you. I am merely concerned.” Astarion could barely feel the warmth of Halsin’s hand as it rested atop his shoulder, using very little effort to keep him from moving forward once again. The spawn couldn’t help but panic, this had undoubtedly brought the attention of the other’s by now, and he couldn’t even force a response between his lips to insist that he was fine. Instead, all he could do was heed the other’s words, stopping completely in place and glancing up into his eyes, blinking owlishly at him for a moment. He couldn’t even remember what he was fighting against as lead dropped into the pit of his stomach, and any blood that had been on his head had done the same. He swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth, ears ringing as he spoke, his face somehow going even paler as he forced the words out.

“I think I am going to faint.” With that, it were as though his consciousness was ripped directly from his body, his strings had been cut and his knees crumbled out from beneath him. He didn’t hit the ground, though. The last thing he remembered was a curse as two arms darted out to catch him and he was lowered unceremoniously to the ground beneath him.

-

The next time Astarion awoke, it was to the familiar scent of his tent. It took a moment for everything to come back to him, but when it did, he groaned aloud. He’d done the one thing he’d been fighting so hard not to do. Everyone would find him useless now. They would think that he was pathetic and powerless and they would have to put a stake through his heart to prove it, how easy it would be to take his immortal life. Though, he supposed they could have done so when he was unconscious. Small victories? Or perhaps they were sadists, worse than Cazador himself. He moved to sit up, head swimming as he did so, before he was forced right back down into the lying position by familiar hands. Crimson eyes met hazel one’s as he floundered, searching for any excuse to explain his display, but before he could come up with anything, Halsin was speaking.

“You mustn’t jostle yourself too much, you fainted.” He spoke gently, not in the scolding way that Astarion had been expecting.

“How long has it been since you last fed, Astarion?” While the question wasn’t accusatory, it certainly felt as though it was. Astarion’s ears tilted downward in an embarrassed frustration as he frowned.

“How long have we been in the Underdark?” He rebutted, spitting out the words as though they had been poison on his tongue… as though Halsin didn’t only have good intentions by asking. He only felt slightly guilty when the man frowned in earnest, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he put the pieces together quite easily.

“That is far too long to go without feeding. Forgive me for not seeing your predicament sooner. You did not have to let it become this dire. Should you need to feed, you need only ask.” The sincerity in his voice felt like thorny vines wrapping their way around Astarion’s throat as he blinked at Halsin as though he’d sprouted another head. He swallowed against the uneasy feeling, against the anxiety that told him he couldn’t trust this. He couldn’t offer his body in return in such a condition, so what was it that Halsin wanted? He blinked away unshed tears before squinting, quickly returning the mask that had briefly slipped.

“And what is it that you expect in return for your kindness?” Loathing dripped from his words like honey as he spoke, Halsin only sighed in return, as though he’d expected that sort of response from the spawn.

“The knowledge that my companion will not grow ill from his own neglect.” He spoke, and Astarion took pause, for once not knowing how to respond. He had no clever quip, nothing absolutely ghastly to say, he was just… empty. Was this what he’d missed out on for nearly two centuries? Stones settled once again in the pit of his stomach as his chest ached from something far less familiar than anxiety. He didn’t know that he wanted to place the feeling just yet, but he did know that he wanted to accept the Druid’s offer. Somehow he knew there were no falsehoods in what had been said. Halsin had been telling the truth. His face contorted into something much more melancholic than it had originally been, rather than bitter and angry, he turned into the victim of Cazador’s abuse in mere seconds, the curtain falling on his performance for once. He was glad that only Halsin was there to bear witness.

“Oh.” Astarion breathed lamely, digging his claws into the flesh of one of his palms as he forced himself to remain in the moment, giving Halsin the smallest of nods as he returned to himself.

“I would like that.” Unbeknownst to him, that would be the first of many times he got to indulge in the Druid’s blood, the nectar providing life for just a while longer— and the key to breaking his shackles forevermore.

[littlemourningstarr]

Refuge

Gale has hidden himself away in his tent, trying to will his own buzzing arousal away. Astarion's arrival feels like a curse, but may just be a blessing in disguise.

Kinktober 2024, Day 30: "JOI (Jerk Off Instructions)"

Read below or on AO3!

Pairing: Gale x Astarion

Tags: JOI, jerk off instructions, masturbation, a pinch of angst, kinktober, kinktober 2024

Gale flipped a page in his book, trying desperately to concentrate on the words in front of him, as he sat within his tent, a candle flickering. He’d been… distracted for the entirety of the evening, had been forced to leave the campfire and the company of his companions earlier than usual.

Everything just felt… too much, suddenly. He was beginning to notice just how beautiful each companion was, each flaw that he found all too tempting. Shadowheart looking like a blade of moonlight, Lae’zel cast in the shadows and flames like something fearsome- Wyll’s gods damned smile.

He groaned, tipping his head back. His groin throbbed, a pulsing heat within his pelvis, his balls aching, his cock tight to his pants. Typically he could ignore his arousal, and if it was too threatening he could occasionally take himself in hand and keep himself calm enough that the orb behaved. But this felt… different.

Because they were all so close. Despite the tensions and snide remarks, Gale had this twinging feeling that if he were to proposition any of his companions, they would take him up on it, quickly. And that temptation was terrifying…

Gale lifted his head, opened his eyes- and gasped sharply, realizing that his tent was being held open, a set of too red eyes looking at him, intrigued.

“By Mystra’s grace Astarion, do you want to startle me into an explosion?” Gale tried to sound annoyed, but he feared it fell flat. The vampire looked like a ghost, a wraith- a marble sculpture with the moon and stars illuminating him in a holy halo.

Gods above, below, and long dead- he was gorgeous. And it wasn’t helping Gale’s situation.

The vampire flashed him a smile- all fang- and stepped into his tent, letting it flop closed behind him as he settled on his knees. “Did you need something?”

“Me? Oh, no, I am quite… content. But you…” he reached out, caught his finger under Gale’s chin, forcing him to raise his head slightly, showing off his neck, “my dear wizard, you seem to need something quite badly.”

Gale kept his mouth tightly shut- but inside, he was panicking. He should have known the vampire would notice something- his senses had been beyond heightened once he had started feeding regularly.

Gale had but a breath to decide if he was going to deny or admit the truth. And when he said nothing at all, it was admission enough.

Astarion chuckled, a little rumble from his chest, his finger tracing down the front of Gale’s throat, over his adam’s apple. “Poor little Gale, doesn’t know how to ask someone to bed. Why, I would have thought bedding a goddess would have given you a complex. Who ruined you tonight, hmm?”

The top of Astarion’s finger was so chilled, it was all Gale could focus on. Would it feel good, to have that sort of cold pressed up against his own warm, soft heat? Astarion was all smooth skin, hollows of bones and sinewy muscle- gods, to have him pressed to the softest parts of Gale’s body, to feel his legs wrap around his waist, watch his head tip back, his arms extended like angel wings-

Astarion grinned more. “Your heart is racing. Do share your thoughts.”

“You should leave.” Gale’s voice was thick, slow. It was dangerous to have Astarion this close, to entertain these thoughts. The orb felt unsettled in his chest, nearly pulsing with his heart.

“Oh darling, don’t play coy, I can…” Astarion paused, eyeing Gale’s throat- and Gale realized the humming pulse of the orb, in time with his pulse. “Hear your heart…”

Gale couldn’t even focus on the fact that Astarion was, quite possibly, propositioning him, although it very well could just be teasing. It was too dangerous. “Which means you need to leave, right now. A little reading will calm me down.”

Astarion was quiet for a long moment, looking at Gale with an almost pitying look. “You can’t even take care of it yourself, can you?”

Gale shut the book in his lap rather forcefully. “No, Astarion, not safely if I’m worked up enough. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to dwell in my seething arousal alone.”

The vampire, however, didn’t leave. He trailed his cold fingers down the pulsing orb’s veins, watching the purple illuminate his skin. “I’m going to regret this,” the vampire mumbled, “but that is simply… not fair. We can’t have you sitting here like a prudish monk.”

“Did you not hear the threat that excitement could mean I detonate and level everyone from here to Elturel?” Or what remained of it, anyway.

But Astarion was ignoring him, shuffling closer. He smelled refreshing, the bergamot thick, as if he had just reapplied the scent. His other hand took Gale’s book from his lap, set it aside- then took one of the wizard’s hands, slid it over his thigh, until he was pressing Gale’s hand to the wizard's quite obvious erection.

Gale’s hips bucked up towards his own hand, as the chill of Astarion’s skin felt… oddly grounding.

“If you stay like this you’ll burst at the first sight of someone’s ankle. No, taking the edge off is a far better risk than simply letting yourself spiral into unsatisfied need. So,” Astarion stroked his fingers over Gale’s knuckles, along the bones at the back of his hand. “Take yourself in hand and find some release. I’ll keep you calm.”

Gale couldn’t fathom how Astarion would keep him calm, when the man was doing the exact opposite- but gods he had a point, didn’t he? If Gale didn’t calm himself down, find some release, he was only going to get worse, the next wave of frustration stronger- until, gods above, he just might get so excited by the most ridiculous thing that he simply did explode into oblivion.

He hesitated another moment, before he leaned back a bit, fingers tracing the waist of his pants. “If we all die, I’m blaming you,” he pointed out. Astarion gave him a little smile, a small quirk of his lips.

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, darling.”

Gale reached into his pants, gave his cock a squeeze through his underwear, before he freed himself. He didn’t miss the way Astarion’s eyes flicked down, took in the flush of his cockhead, the smear of precum already visible.

The damned vampire licked his lips, and Gale felt his heart rate spike, the orb ache in his chest. Astarion dragged his eyes back up to his face, locked eyes with Gale.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, his voice soft, quiet. “Move your hand slowly.” Gale listened, held Astarion’s stare as he stroked slowly. “Don’t focus on the touch, just the feeling.”

Gale sucked at his tongue, tried not to focus on what he was doing- only that it felt good. But gods he wanted to stroke faster, wanted to rut into his hand, find release quickly.

He sped up a little, but Astarion reached out, grasped his arm gently, forced him to slow, gave a single shake of his head. “Don’t be desperate Gale. You’ll get there. Slowly, so we can keep that pretty little heart of yours calm.” He pulled his hand back, and Gale swallowed thickly, but listened- his hand slowing down, his grip loose, just bumping his glans on each up stroke. “Good, better.” The vampire pulled his eyes from Gale’s for a moment, glanced at the pulsing on his neck, before turning his eyes back to Gale. “I’m going to touch you- no, not your cock, don’t look terrified.”

Gale hadn’t even realized that he’d gone wide eyed, hopeful and fearful.

“Just let me make you more comfortable. Keep going as you are.” Astarion reached for his robes, began undoing its fastening, opening it to reveal Gale’s bare chest. He pushed it fully open, then placed both his palms flat to Gale’s chest. Gale sucked in a breath, the coolness a shock to his system, making his chest cramp up- but oddly enough, made him feel almost calm.

It was the touch of another, after all. Something he hadn’t felt in over a year.

He made a desperate little noise, and Astarion leaned closer. “Shh, shh, you’re alright. You’re alright.” His thumbs rubbed at Gale’s chest, over his thick, dark chest hair. The wizard was sure he could feel his heart and the orb pulsing under one hand. “Look how close I am, and you’ve still got your pretty little head attached.”

Gale managed a smile, couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “Pretty, eh?”

Astarion tutted, gently let his nails scratch at Gale’s chest. The sensation was slightly distracting- kept Gale from focusing on the dire need his cock was aching with, in his hand. “Don’t make me take it back,” he chided. “Stop touching yourself.”

Gale paused, pulled his hand away- but it was agony. The moment he lost the sensation on his cock he realized just how tightly he was wound, each muscle in his body ached.

“You’re getting too excited.” Astarion skimmed his hands up to Gale’s shoulders. “I can hear your pulse. Now, listen to me very carefully. Take yourself in hand.” When Gale hesitated, Astarion added with that attitude of his, “your cock, you stupid, silly man. Now.”

Gale took himself back in hand, his other hand on his thigh, gripping it tightly.

“Don’t stroke, press your thumb just beneath the head.” Gale listened, pressing his thumb under his glans, at the heavy bundle of nerves that rested there. “Good, good. Now rub, slowly now.”

The wizard listened, felt his balls going tight as his cock spilled precum at the touch. It made it easier to rub slowly. 

“Your pulse is going to go up,” Astarion murmured, hands going back to his chest. The coolness was comforting. “It’s okay. Don’t panic. You’re going to get relief, I promise.”

Gale believed him.

He took a slow breath, not fighting the way his belly was tightening up, then relaxing. He was close, close enough that he was beginning to feel that fuzzy orgasmic feeling, in his spine.

Astarion leaned closer, until his forehead was pressed to Gale’s. It was… intimate. Gale’s chest ached over the action, but his pulse remained. This was a different ache. One he wasn’t sure he could pull apart, in that moment.

“You’re close,” the vampire whispered- not asking, but telling. “You’re so close, and it feels so good. Everything is alright, Gale. Everything is safe, here. With me.” The wizard closed his eyes, whined softly, wanted in that moment so badly for Astarion to kiss him. But gods, there was no way he’d remain calm through that. “Almost there,” Astarion whispered, “Almost, almost… and…” he hesitated, then whispered in a very breathy voice, “now.”

The orgasm was a tide of relief, washing over Gale, drowning him. He didn’t thrash, didn’t hump into his hand- he simply felt his muscles relaxing, pleasure stretching from his pelvis up his back, out to his limbs. His cock was weeping cum over his hand, heavy spurts that were tell-tale evidence of how pent up he was.

He kept rubbing just beneath his glans, until he felt the contractions inside him finally beginning to weaken. He dared to open his eyes, glance through dark lashes- and Astarion was still there, forehead to forehead, giving him a little smile.

“Good.” The vampire pulled back slightly, hands still on his chest. “And now you’re calm.”

It was the truth. Gale felt… relaxed. Gods, he felt drowsy. He wasn’t sure the last time an orgasm had been that good.

He hated when Astarion pulled his hands back. The orb gave a pulse as his chest ached at the loss of contact, but then the light dimmed. No burst of flames and flesh rending force- nothing but his calm heartbeat, within his breast.

He opened his mouth to thank Astarion, but the vampire gave a single shake of his head. “Don’t thank me. I simply made sure you don’t get us all killed because you’re pent up like a youth.” Gale thought the vampire might have meant there to be some teasing venom in his voice, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was looking at Gale too softly.

“How did you…” Gale paused, swallowed, hated that Astarion stood up, turned away from him, grasping the flap of his tent. He meant to leave, and Gale realized he desperately wanted him to stay. “How did you know what to say?”

The elf paused for a long moment, before he glanced over his shoulder. His eyes, those gorgeous scorching gems that could burn hundred year stone to ash- they looked sad. “I simply told you what I want to hear.”

It was honest, too honest. The moment Astarion said it he turned, let himself out into the night, leaving Gale to stare at where the man’s shadow had been.

Whatever demons kept home in the shadows of Astarion’s ribs, Gale hoped someday they would all burn in their own hellish fires. And, he dared to admit- he’d quite like to be the one lighting that fire. He’d enjoy exercising some of the fear from Astarion, and giving him the sort of safe relief he had just given Gale.

[frostyblustar]

Final day of Percico week: Soulmate AU

(Day 7 of Percico week, prompts by @percico-nicercy-events )

Tw: Major character death ayee have fun

Nico held his sword tightly, but it was difficult with the tiredness in his bone. He had shadow traveled a decent way away from Camp Half-Blood, aiming to get to Camp Jupiter. He wasn’t anticipating any monsters, but he really should have. It was easy to think of everything he did wrong as he fought the beast in front of him.

Just as he was about to plunge his weapon into the chest of the creature, something plunged into his. He felt it stab through him, and looking down he could see the end of whatever stabbed him from behind. He was thrown to the ground, discarded. A nearly identical beast had snuck up behind him, and he felt like such an idiot.

He was given time to think as the creatures left him to die, a small gift given to him. Though it could also be a curse, maybe dying instantly would be better than the pain coursing through his body, distracting him from coherent final thoughts.

He was going to miss everyone, and he wished he died in a more heroic fashion. Some big sacrifice would have been nice, maybe to save someone he loved, but no. He wasn’t so lucky.

Selfishly, he wished Percy were here with him. Someone to hold him as he dies would have brought him some comfort, but all he had here was cold grass. Cold, and pain.

The pain in Percy’s chest started as a dull ache, and he briefly brushed it off. It was a nice day at Camp Half-Blood, and he was training the younger campers in sword fighting. His boyfriend was absent, since he was paying a visit to Camp Jupiter today, but otherwise it was a good day.

It was surprising that Nico was his soulmate, but it made so much sense as soon as the realization hit him. Soulmates shared pain, so if Nico was hurt in battle, Percy felt it. He didn’t feel anything till Nico got out of the Lotus Hotel, and then he would consistently get odd pains.

He realized who his soulmate was when Nico was in the jar. The hunger ate at him constantly, and no food would curve it. This only made him more desperate to save Nico.

Percy wanted to save Nico from everything, even when he knew Nico could save himself.

The chest pain was getting worse, and Percy had to hand off the responsibility of teaching the kids to Annabeth, telling her he wasn’t feeling well. Which was the truth, but he wasn’t sure why. Why did it feel like something was stabbing him?

He sat down just as the pain became unbearable. Percy gasped, hunching forward with his chest on his knees. Squeezing his eyes shut, he realized what the cause could be. Staring into the darkness behind his eyelids, he was reminded of his boyfriend. Something happened to Nico, he could feel it, the pain was tearing away at him.

“All he told you was that he was feeling sick?” Will asked, following Annabeth over to where Percy was passed out on a bench. She nodded, kneeling by his side.

“He seemed fine enough, but then I saw him collapse…” She sounded guilty, but Will was sure she hadn’t missed anything. Annabeth was highly intuitive, and could assess Percy’s pain pretty well. This had to be sudden.

Will tasked Annabeth with helping him get Percy to the infirmary, and then he assessed Percy. He looked over everything again and again, but he couldn’t find anything irregular. Even the man’s temperature was normal.

He let the man rest for a while, going about his other tasks. He was walking past Percy’s assigned room, transporting bandages to another Apollo cabin member, when he heard crying. Will quickly gave the bandages over to someone and went into the room. “Percy?”

It was hard to make out anything between Percy’s sobs, his head buried into his knees. But Will swore he heard, “He’s dead. He has to be.”

No visible injuries or ailments… And he passed out…

Will drew a conclusion quickly. He had seen many soulmates cause pain, and this one was distinct.

“Percy, we don’t know for sure-“

“Will, he’s dead. We need to find him—“ Percy scooted off the bed, but Will put a hand out before he could go any further.

“Are you still in pain?”

Percy kept his gaze to the floor, “No, and that’s what scares me.” His voice broke.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6

You can find longer fics of mine on my AO3 :)

[astra-galaxie]

🫂😬👻💝💔❤️‍🔥 for zara tien??? ‘w’

I hope that when I write season 6, I can do Zara and the team justice! I appreciate getting requests like this because they help me think about their characters in ways I wasn’t able to while playing Travel in Time!

(Nothing against the season itself, the gameplay just sucked, and I couldn't get into it like I could with the other seasons.)

That being said, please enjoy these headcanons for Zara!

🫂 A friendship headcanon

Zara will always have her friends’ backs, no matter how big or scary her opponent is. She never backs down from a fight, especially to protect someone she cares about. She has given people countless black eyes, cuts, bruises and even some broken bones. If you think you can get away with hurting one of Zara’s friends, then you better have a good hiding spot because Zara WILL get her revenge!

👻 A headcanon about what scares them

Zara is scared of being alone. Growing up, she didn’t have many people she could trust or rely on; for the most part, she raised herself. And while she likes having alone time, that doesn't mean she wants to be alone. That is why she tries to spend a lot of time with Theo and Kai. Even when they’re apart, Zara doesn't feel alone, but she still prefers having at least one of her boyfriends or a friend with her to fill the void she fears.

💝 A headcanon about their love language

Zara loves giving and receiving physical affection. Head pats, hugs, kisses, holding hands, and cuddling always make her feel loved. She grew up touch-starved, and while she didn’t realize how much it was hurting her since she had gone without it most of her life, Zara came to use touch as a way to show her love. And with Theo and Kai, she can give and get double the affection!

💔 An angsty headcanon

SOMBRA nearly successfully recruited Zara. She was 12 at the time of their defeat by the Bureau and had been targeted as a potential recruit during their final year of operation. She hadn't gotten far enough into the program to be experimented on, but she did participate in The Hunt alongside other recruits. She thought the things SOMBRA was promising were good and that she would help the world become a better palace, but after the Bureau freed her following The Hunt and she was placed into the Spring Angels Foundation, Zara realized how terrible SOMBRA was.

She’s yet to bring up her past with SOMBRA to her team, mainly because of Jack and Marina. She’s seen them look at her as if they should remember her, but Zara’s always deflected their questions. Maybe one day she’ll tell them the truth, but for now, that secret is best left in the shadows…

😬 A headcanon about the worst thing they’ve done

(I moved this one to relate it to the angsty headcanon.)

Having been recruited by SOMBRA, Zara did many things to prove her worth to them. Along with participating in The Hunt, she also committed minor crimes for them, like stealing. One such crime involved her breaking into a small shop to steal their money. SOMBRA had given Zara a gun to defend herself, but she was scared to use it. Given the late hour, she thought she wouldn’t need it, but she got caught while stuffing the money from the safe into her bag. In the ensuing panic, Zara shot the man who caught her, thankfully not killing him, but she did shoot him in his kneecap. Zara couldn't believe what she’d done and ran before the cops arrived, but the man’s screams of pain still haunt her.

❤️‍🔥 A romantic headcanon

Zara HATED when Theo and Kai were fighting over her. She loved both of them but had no idea how to tell them or if they would accept her feelings. But being stuck on a time machine gives you plenty of time to figure things out. In the end, Zara confesses to Theo and Kai, and in turn, the men are able to set aside their rivalry and replace it with love.

The downside to being stuck in a time machine is that you're stuck in a ship with your teammates, which leads to them being almost caught and caught in several intimate situations. But Zara, Theo, and Kai didn’t care if they got caught; as long as they were being caught together, it was fun, especially when Jack once walked in on them making out and left screaming that he needed to bleach his eyes.

There we go! Another ask down and on to the next one! Thank you for the request!

[alaskashigh]

Tw: Child abuse and sensitive topics.

Texas headcanon (i’m not projecting-)

When Texas was a small child, he had a music box that played a lovely song. (In The Shadow of The Valley, because it’s a comfort song for me right now and it fits him) The music box had a little horse and cowboy that would move up and down, but it was pretty old and creaky so sometimes it would move a bit sporadically and the music would sound scratchy.

The music was a huge comfort for Texas, and so he would bring it everywhere with him. He loved sitting outside and listening to the music box loop with his old dog. It helped him ignore the many times Texas’ dad wasn’t the best to him or wouldn’t follow through with what he promised.

The comforting sound would lull him to sleep at night and keep nightmares at bay, like a guardian protecting him in his sleep.

He loved this music box and would take as good care of it as he could.

His dad, on the other hand, didn’t like the music box. He always said that “no boy should have a music box.” and that he was “raising a pussy.”

These words always hurt Texas, but his dad would normally put him down, so he pretended it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

One day, his dad got so fed up with the music box that he took the thing out of his hands. Texas was upset to have his music taken from him, but even more terrified at what his dad might do to the box.

His dad screamed and yelled at him, calling him “gay” and “a little bitch.” He said he was embarrassing to raise, which hurt more than Texas would like to admit.

He expected him to hurt him, it was weird when his dad wasn’t hurting him in some way,

He never expected his dad to break the only comfort he had in life.

Texas was in shock for awhile when he watched him throw the box to the floor, smashing it with his boot heel as he yelled more at him. He wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in his ears.

He hadn’t even noticed that he started crying until he felt his fathers hand slap his face and tell him to “stop crying like a little bitch.” or, that’s what he thinks his father said.

He gathered all of the pieces that he could and kept it hidden in a safe place. Without the music he couldn’t sleep well, was irritable, and slowly lost himself to horrible thoughts.

He became very angry at himself, blaming himself for being too much like a pussy, that if he had matured more and been more of a man that he wouldn’t had disappointed his father so much.

The music box, although a good memory and a soft spot in his heart, angered him. It made him sad, angry, happy, so many emotions at once. He hated that music box, he loved it with every bone in his body. There was no inbetween.

Years later he found the music box pieces in a small and old torn silk bag, that was browning with age and covered in dust. He nearly had a heart attack when he saw the pieces inside, dropping the once clean silver cowboy and horse piece with a scared look on his face.

He shoved everything back in the bag and hid it again, trying his best to forget about the music box as his mind was riddled with memories he didn’t want to remember again.

Weeks later and with no luck of forgetting the music box, he pulled it out of it’s hiding space and slowly pulled out the pieces onto his desk. He nearly cried as he stared at the broken box, getting hit with wave after wave of episodes, good and bad memories making him feel physically ill. He felt weak as he shakily picked up each piece and examined them.

It wasn’t long before everything was too much for him and he found himself puking in his bathroom.

It took him months before he found himself back in front of the little broken music box. And even longer before he decided to try and fix the thing, to try and listen to it at least one more time.

With aching fingers, many failed attempts, and more swears said in three weeks than his entire life, he had brought the small box back to life. It wasn’t as pretty as it used to be, some bits of the box were too cracked to fully seal up and small holes littered where wood once used to be, but it was the best he could do with the original pieces without using any new materials.

That night he listened to the box play for the first time in many years and cried.

[moseslikellamas]

Cinders in the Dark pt.5

Pairing - Benjicot Blackwood x Whent!OC

Summary - The lord of Raventree arrives.

Warnings - Magic, delusions, trickery, frightening imagery, blood, graphic depictions of violence, depiction of death, depictions of panic attack, anxious thoughts, grief, not canon, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Listen, I’m about to play VERY fast and lose with both how magic operates in asoiaf and significant cannon aspects. We’re all gonna have to suspend our disbelief and believe in the heart of the cards.

Lucinda had found her way back upstairs to her room much easier than she would’ve thought possible. She had even found her abandoned torch lying on the ground still flickering. As weird as things were, this did not concern her. She’d just picked it up and continued on her way back. Then she went up to her room and promptly fell asleep, exhausted.

She dreamed of being young again, just a small girl climbing trees and wading in creeks. Carefree and unencumbered. She dreamed of the sun on her face and the sound of her peers laughing. Most of all she dreamed of being held and the soft sounds of shared sleep. They twisted together in a golden ray of hope, something she had forgotten the feeling of.

When she woke, it was with purpose and a plan. The evening was late but no one had come up for her, so she had to assume the lord had not arrived. She set to work getting dressed, wearing another gray dress that nearly blended in with the depressing castle stones. It would’ve blended in completely if it weren’t for the embroidered front fabric which displayed her house colors and sigil. The tiny bats had garnets sewn in as eyes and they would shimmer in the torchlight whenever she moved. She’d hand stitched several dresses over the years. It was good to have hobbies in a place where reality twisted, it was something concrete to hold on to.

She spun around to face her cluttered desk, suddenly remembering the sword she had grabbed and looking for it. It lay untouched where she’d thrown it before collapsing into sleep. She walked over to it slowly, admiring the way the oil slick pattern shifted in the firelight, the shadows dancing along the blade. It didn’t make sense, any of it. The charred rib bone, the crown, nor the sword should exist because a burning pile of bones cannot give you physical objects. And yet all three lay there staring back at her accusatory. She didn’t own a sword sheath, why would she? But she had plenty of belts to spare. So she tied a few together and slid the sword in between, then strapped it to her side.

Lucinda had never swung a sword before and didn’t really intend to now. It was merely for show. And when a burning omen gives you a gift, you carry it. She tucked the rib in her dress top against her skin, but she did not wear the bramble crown. It was still coated in her blood and she didn’t relish wearing it again ever. So she just left it on her desk. The sun was nearly gone at this point, just the faintest bits of light were visible in the sunset.

Then she headed up the stairs two at a time to visit the witch again.

“S’not going to work.” She said right off first thing.

Lucinda huffed at her, irritated. “No lord is immune to Hemlock and I know you possess some.”

“Well that’s true enough. But that pretty blade of yours is just going to suck it up. How’d you like the Sept of Burnished Night?”

That was a nonsensical order of words to Lucinda. “Sept of what?” How could the night be burnished? It wasn’t a sword. She shook her head, irrelevant.

“The room you got the sword in, of course. Didn’t you see all of the polished stones?”

She’d been a bit busy going insane to admire the color or quality of the stone in the massively creepy room.

“Look, I don’t care about the Sept. If I can’t poison the blade then what can I do?”

The witch looked at her innocently. “Wait and see what happens? Easy enough.”

“Agh! Help me out here. I can’t just go in empty handed.”

But the witch had only clapped her hands and extinguished the light, leaving her alone again. Lucinda stood angrily in the doorway, the clear night sky peeking in through the windows. Then she sighed and started the long walk down to the main hall. All of the torches were out again and this time she knew she wasn’t leaving any windows open. It made the stairs dark and hard to navigate. She had to hug the wall because she couldn’t tell where the stairs ended. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.

She stepped into the great hall and had that relief stolen. All of the air was sucked out of her at the sight of hundreds of candles positioned around the room. They were on the floor, stacked on tables, high up on shelves. Everywhere she looked was the dim glow of a million tiny flames. She turned around and around, taking it all in. Why had they done this? And where was everyone? Surely she hadn’t missed supper, had she? She started to walk towards the kitchens to see what was going on in there but before she could reach the other side of the main hall, people began bringing in the dishes.

The entire house staff must have been helping to prepare the feast because it was an endless stream of people that came and went. Setting dishes down and then quickly exiting to go grab the rest. Lucinda decided she might wait somewhere else after all. She turned to leave but was stopped by a flood of Blackwood men coming in through the doorway. She hadn’t seen how many men had come originally with the imposter lord. It had only been the copy and a handful of men when they stood in front of her father that first time. Now she saw it was a quarter of a battalion at least.

Unable to fight through the incoming crowd she took her seat up on the dais, and waited for her father to arrive. The hall was eerily silent for the amount of men inhabiting it and it made her skin crawl. The only thing keeping her from bolting was the familiar sight of Orwyll standing by the door. Curiously, the copy of Lord Blackwood never showed up and she wondered if somewhere in the halls was a dead body. There couldn’t be two of him, so he would rid himself of the copy. It was a glum thought. At last her father arrived with her stepmother and her two baby brothers. That was concerning to her. Why would they bring the babes out? But she didn’t have long to ponder this before their guest of honor burst in.

The Lord strode in wearing a rich ruby cloak that billowed behind him. His hand rested on his sword pommel when he came to rest in front of the dias. Her father stood, raised his glass and called for a toast.

“To uniting these two great houses in holy matrimony.”

She hadn’t even really registered her fathers words because she was too busy watching the hand movements the lord was making. A queer moving of his fingers in a downward motion before flicking them up. By the time she looked up to meet his eyes, it was too late to stop him. Orwyll was across the room by the door and could not have hoped to reach them in time. Her father was grabbed from behind and pulled backwards out of sight. It was worse for her stepmother who started to scream when they ripped the children from her.

That was what got Lucinda up and on her feet, sword pulled out, standing in front of her stepmother. Her arms were shaking so badly she was afraid she might drop it. Their own guards had finally arrived but were having to fight through the crowd in the hall before hoping to step foot inside. She watched in silent shock as Orwyll was cut down, blood coating the walls before soaking into them. Her attention was split between the chaos of fighting and defending her stepmother who was still screaming. She’d lost sight of the babes in the sea of men writhing around them.

Lord Blackwood stood in front of her, the candlelight reflected brightly in his eyes. He did not draw his own sword as he approached her. She was overwhelmed by the amount of things happening and her mind was trying to shut down. But she held fast and tried to swing at him when he got within range. It was a sad attempt and he’d simply batted the blade out of her hands. It hit the floor with an echoing clang. Her stepmother was still screaming behind her. The lord looked down at her.

“You’re not wearing your crown.”

She stared at him completely disoriented, saying nothing. That was when someone ended her stepmother's screaming, the sound of metal on flesh and then silence. Lucinda winced when she heard the sound of her body hitting the ground. She took one stuttering step backwards, her vision filling with black spots before she lost the fight to be conscious.

***

When Lucinda woke her head was pounding. She groaned, putting both hands on her head and rubbing. It took her a full minute before she would attempt to open her eyes and a minute more before she could force them to stay open. She sat up slowly, trying not to jostle her aching head. Her hand was wrapped up and she looked at it confused. The events of the night came back to her and she began to hyperventilate, glancing around the room frantically. She calmed down a bit seeing she was back in her own room alone.

She tried not to think of what happened at dinner. But it was impossible not to. The sight of blood on the stone floor and walls followed her eyes wherever she looked. The lord hadn’t outright killed her or her father. She tried to think even less of the marriage proposal that had been sprung on her. She had no doubt that it was a sham. They had intended to take the castle after all. She would’ve been glad to be rid of it, they could have it free of charge. No need for murder, just have it. But if they were here and in such a force it was likely the crown knew about the trip.

Lucinda said a small curse to the witch in the tall tower. Nothing crazy, just that she would fall down the stairs… and off the side plunging to the ground. ‘Wait and see. Easy enough.’ What a joke of advice that had been. That’s how she wished her fall to be, easy enough. She stood gingerly before walking over to the window. Outside the stars twinkled so brightly they seemed to mock her. A night like this shouldn’t be beautiful, it should be dark and wretched. She stood there, wishing she could climb atop her horse and leave this horrible castle.

Her door squeaked open and she turned to see who would enter.

“Lady Whent.” The Blackwood lord said, dipping his head towards her.

“Abomination.” She snarled back. They were past the point of pleasantries in her eyes, if they’d ever been there to start with.

For the first time she saw the lord smile, a true grin broke out on his face at her words. He stepped closer to her, crowding her in by the window. He paused when he spotted the crown on her desk and picked it up. He twirled it in his hands, not making a sound when the thorns cut into his hands. Then he stepped even closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

“My queen.” He whispered, placing the crown delicately back on her head.

She looked up at him eyes wide, heart pounding. He offered her his arm to take and having no other choice she did. And together they began to descend the staircase towards the ground floor. The torches were glowing with the gleam of scarlet as they walked.

[icey--stars]

Stories To Be Told: PART 15

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: im gonna be honest ya’ll. im giving MYSELF backlash with this damn writing lmao. one second she loves az. the next second she’s back to cussing him out. i love it and hate it so much right now. but dont worry. itll end soon.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

I didn’t sleep that night either. Nothing could quell these thoughts in my mind. The walk had done nothing. Azriel had done nothing. My thoughts were not only hitched on that stupid dream I had, but the few memories I had of… the event. Gods, I needed to find a way to refer to that. Rather than just the “event”. 

The next morning, with my eyes sunken in and my head feeling so incredibly weird, there was a knock on my door.

I stood up, limping a little bit less as I cracked the door. Azriel, of course, was on the other side of it. I opened the door a bit more, leaning against the frame as I stared at the hazel-eyed male.

“You look tired,” he observed. “Did you manage to sleep last night?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “If you’re coming here to check on my well being again, I’m fine. The fact I told you I was thinking at all is a miracle.” The thread in my check yanked again and I grit my teeth hard.

“I’m aware, I’m not here to push it. Cassian canceled training today, so I was going to invite you. Since you wanted to continue training and all,” he explained.

I cocked a brow. I did remember saying that. Az was here to actually make good on that promise?

“Why’d he cancel?” I asked curiously, opening the door a bit more as I moved to grab my leathers.

“Unrest in Illyria, Rhys went with him. And seeing as you’re already not taking Madja’s advice seriously, I figured training couldn’t be too bad, since you walked nearly 15 miles in the forest.”

I narrowed my eyes, jerking my head to meet his gaze. “How do you know that?”

“Shadows can do a lot more than you think.”

I rolled my eyes, strapping on my last dagger before following him through the halls. He didn’t go to the balcony, where we would fly up, instead, as if still concerned for my healing, he led the way up the stairs to the training area.

The fresh breath of air I got when we finally got up onto that little plateau, was relieving in the best of ways.

“Would you like to work with mitts first? Or something else?” Azriel asked, stretching out his wings a bit as a wind blew from the left.

“That sounds fine,” I replied, hiding a yawn behind my forearm as Azriel went to retrieve the equipment we needed.

“By the way,” He said, walking to me. I’d settled myself into one of the fighting rings. “You’re wearing your leathers for the Day Court meeting. Along with the other Valkyries.”

“Alright.”

Azriel seemed a lot different than a few days ago. We had been arguing before the event. And now he has gone a lot more… placid and compliant to my requests to leave things be. Which, don’t get me wrong, I appreciated it, but it just made me wonder.

Was he getting tired of forcing himself to deal with me? Or was I really just being that sensitive? Maybe I’d spent too long away from actual civilization. Maybe this was actually all totally normal. Maybe-

I cut off my thoughts as I wrapped my knuckles with a bit of cloth offered to me.

Azriel had protective sparring pads on his hands, and braced himself carefully, and then gave me a challenging look. “Let out whatever you’ve been holding. If you need to work off the strain working your body to the bone, we can deal with the fallout.”

My lips tightened, and then I settled into a stance and threw the first punch. Azriel didn’t budge, just had his arms out in front of him, preparing for the next. So I kept it up. I threw the next punch with more force behind it, and then another. I kicked high, my body basically splitting in half, and then righting myself quickly, punching skillfully again.

I didn’t focus on who was behind the pads, just… I just let go. Punching became the silence I needed. Kicking became my release. It almost felt like I was back with Rainne. Training with her again.

Distantly, I thought about what she’d told me right now.

“Little bird… you need rest.”

“I can’t rest!” I argued.

She clicked her tongue, pulling the pads back up. “Then hit. Until you cannot anymore. Until your thoughts are no longer too loud. Remember to breathe. Follow through. Whatever hurts you… let it flow through.”

I knew the shadows were whispering to me, telling me to stop. They weren’t always unkind. Sometimes they worked to keep me from losing myself. It just wasn’t common. The kind ones were never as loud as the ones who claim to have better decisions than I. 

The pads dropped. With it, my focus.

I looked up to meet Azriel’s eyes. “What?”

“Are you… alright? Your shadows are going insane or something. Even I can hear them from right here,” he admitted.

I glanced back. The shadows were large and flowing around me, and I heard them basically screaming. “Shut up,” I ordered quickly. “I’m fine you little pests.”

The shadows calmed after a few moments of placating. I pulled them closer and then turned back to Azriel. At least whispers of my failures hadn’t been coming through them, I thought distantly. That was always a good thing.

“I’m fine. How long have we been doing this?”

“Almost an hour.”

That shocked me, my eyes widening. “Didn’t mean to get so much into that,” I admitted. “Do you want a turn?”

“I’ll only take a turn if you’re certain you’ve worked off whatever is up with you.”

“I’m fine,” I lied and began unwrapping my hands.

Azriel put one of the pads to my hands. I raised my gaze. “You sure?” He asked.

I sighed. “I’m alright Az. Your turn.”

We switched equipment and I braced myself carefully, and let Azriel get in his own punching as well. My body ached distantly from all that I’d been doing. Goddamn. Ever since I got caught up with this Inner Circle, I’d have the most crazy ride of emotions and events. It was nothing like the forests, or the years that passed by in just the blink of an eye. No, I’d been here for a while, but it hadn’t even been that long. The days dragged instead of passed.

But you wouldn’t have met any of them if this hadn't happened. Nesta, Emerie, Gwyn, you wouldn’t have met any of them. Know them at all even.

Friends. I hadn’t had friends for a long time. And now I have three sisters. Not by blood, but it felt impossible. I’d lived the majority of my life either alone, with Rainne, or mourning for her. And now it was like a whole new life I had. Whether for good or for bad. So far, it's been both. Training and being with my friends was great. Azriel, work and the event had been absolutely terribly confusing or painful to think about.

“Be here,” Azriel said suddenly, breaking me of my stare with his wrapped fists. “You keep getting that look that you’re thinking about something that’s in the past.”

“How would you know?” I countered, taking his next blow with ease.

“I get the same way,” He admitted, looking up for a moment before sending a winding kick. “You keep thinking that much and you won’t like what you find. So be here. Right now.”

He flared his wings as he moved to punch again. I grunted as he hit true. Strong damn Illyrians, I cursed.

“See now you look frustrated. That’s better than the thinking look you have,” Azriel commented. “If you’re thinking about the events that have happened, you have to find a way to stop. Find a way to not… zone out or whatever. If you have to, use your anger to keep you centered. Or something, anything else. Thinking does you no good if you’re just upsetting yourself.”

“How do you know I’m upsetting myself?” I countered, moving to the side of him, forcing him to move with me. “How do you know? What if I’m just thinking about the creatures I met in the woods yesterday?”

“You get… a look when you’re upset. That’s all,” Azriel replied. “What creatures did you meet?”

“A lot of wolves,” I replied. “And something that was dangerous, but it was the one who can’t climb.”

“A Fright?” Azriel guessed. “I’ve seen a few.”

“I think that’s what they’re called,” I answered. “Only see them in the Night Court.”

“They have other creatures in other courts.”

Azriel paused after a bit. He and I kept sharing a few words. I shared a few about creatures I saw in the Winter Court. He shared his from the times he was tasked to check out reports of them and then deal with them. 

“Would you like to continue, or are you done?” He asked, unwrapping his hands as I slid the pads off.

I lowered my gaze to the sandy ground. Did he want to continue? Or was I once again burdening someone else?

“I’m good,” I answered. “I’m going to go find Nesta, see if I can do a dance lesson.”

He raised a brow. “Nesta’s teaching you to dance?”

I nodded.

“Good luck then. I’ve seen her skill for myself, so I hope you can keep up.”

I rolled my eyes and left him as he put back the equipment, wanting away. I just keep avoiding people, I noticed.

I spotted Nesta reading in one of the chairs of the common room. “Nesta,” I regarded as I approached.

She lifted her gaze, and her lips raised in a smile. “Y/N, how are you doing? Your injuries mostly healed?”

I nodded. “It’s only some slight pain. I was hoping to uhm- maybe do a dance lesson?”

She stood, placing the book on a side table. “Yes,” Nesta said, grinning. “Yes, that sounds amazing. That book was getting boring anyway.”

“Just pining after each other endlessly? Or ignoring each other's presence until the end of time?” I guessed.

She gasped. “How did you know!? Yes! That’s exactly what they’re doing! Both!”

I chuckled. “Their the most endless tropes I know of. Only reason I ever read them is because they tend to have a good confession scene.”

“You read romance, I like you even more. I didn’t even think that was possible,” She chuckled, walking towards me. “Alright, follow me, I know where we can start.”

Nesta grabbed onto my hand and began to drag me after her. I stumbled a bit but quickly jogged beside her quick pace.

“Have you never danced before?” She asked.

“Rainne tried to teach me one formal Winter Court dance once. I think we just forgot to practice. Or we decided to not go to the Solstice celebration that year.”

“Better than nothing. I learned all the formal ones, so I’ll teach them to you. In case you ever end up needing to know them. I practice with an instructor down in Velaris sometimes, but normally I just tend to steal Cassian.”

I scoffed, amused. “What are you stealing Cassian from?”

“Brooding, or paperwork. I don’t know- he’s the general, so general-y things.”

I chuckled. “Yes, general-y things.”

She hummed. “Do you want to learn the female side of the dances only? Or would you like to learn both? We can steal Az and get him to help with those.”

I shook my head immediately. “No- no, I’ll just learn the female ones. I can learn the male ones by watching.”

She and I walked into an empty room that was pretty large. Nesta walked confidently toward the middle of the room, pausing as she turned back to me.

“Alright. First order of business!” She declared. “Hand placement.”

Dancing, it seems, was actually quite complicated with the specifics like hand placement, and where you go with the dance and all the more complicated steps. But it seems that the grace I displayed with my footwork when fighting, actually was quite similar to these formal dances Nesta insisted I try. My thigh twinged uncomfortably on a couple moves, like the spins or dips, but I just grit my teeth and continued. Luckily, my wings proved barely a problem. Besides the dip, when a male’s arm generally goes behind your back. Nesta managed to work it in a way that comfortably rested on the small of my back. 

My shadows, however, fell in love with the movements instantly, swirling around me as if they were learning to dance themselves. Some still remained wreathed around me, writhing happily as I completed a movement successfully, while others tried to do it themselves in the shadows that my wings cast on the ground.

Nesta was stronger and more confident in her moves than me or my shadows. Distantly, I thought about what she would be like with a skilled partner. Probably very regal and graceful, I guessed.

“You did well on your first day!” She insisted as we walked out of the room. “It's just memorizing the dances now. Think of them like battle maneuvers. Except instead of fighting, you’re dancing with a partner.”

“Yeah,” I hummed. It was almost dinner.

“By the way- Rhys asked me to ask you if you were going to become a Valkyrie. Do you know?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I think I will. Azriel told me as well. I have to cut a ribbon, right?”

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. You think I can sneak into training tomorrow and get it done?”

“With Cassian banning you from training? No,” she chuckled. “Just wait.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can deal with Cassian,” I insisted.

“Y/N,” she warned. “Heal first.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But first day back and I’m cutting it.”

Nesta chuckled, smiling. “Yeah, you do that. We can dance again tomorrow if you lose that pain in your thigh you keep wincing from when you spin.”

I scoffed. She gave me a look. “Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll wait.” 

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger

[gunebuggieswriting]

Good Bad Habits Run In The Family: Chapter Two

DPxDC Crossover, Jason Adopts Danny AU

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Danny doesn’t know why he let himself get taken by the anti-hero. He knows that the man is technically a bat, and that a lot of them usually don’t welcome people like him, but he was hurt and tired and just wanted to rest. He could’ve slipped as soon as Red Hood turned his back, went intangible and straight through the wall. He had enough energy to do it and escape, even though it would’ve made him more suspicious, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He doesn’t even know why.

He let Red Hood check on his wound, even though it was pointless, as he would heal just fine in around a day. It was the reason he was looking for a place to hide out in the first place, so he could transform and heal a lot faster. His human side healed much slower, still more than the average human, but not nearly as good as his ghost side. But then he got found in that alley after… He didn’t want to think about it. He honestly wanted to forget all of that happened and believe it wasn’t real.

If only it was that easy.

Danny rubbed his forehead a bit, trying to get rid of his headache and the painful thoughts causing it to worsen.

He hadn’t transformed, because he had a feeling there were cameras in the place. He should’ve left, but he didn’t move from under the comfortable blanket he had found laying over a crate. He felt too warm and too safe for the first time in a long while to want to leave, a tired haze taking over most of his time as he laid there switching between a conscious and unconscious state.

Now though, he was much more awake, staring blankly at a wall as he remained on the ground. His bones were somewhat sore from the metal flooring he slept on, but he felt more rested than he did in awhile. He didn’t know what time it was, but he didn’t bother to check by trying to look outside. He felt like the light outside would make his headache worse, even if this city seemed to always be shrouded in darkness.

He subconsciously wondered if Red Hood was actually coming back to check on him like he told him. Should he leave before then? What if he brought his batclan thing with him? He’d probably be fine enough to fight his way to an exit to escape, but he’d most likely suffer more injuries, which wouldn’t be fun. Yet at the same time he wanted to stay, to trust Red Hood. He had an odd aura, obviously touched by too much death, but there was this feeling that he wouldn’t hurt Danny. He probably shouldn’t believe that feeling, trust never got him nowhere.

Sighing, he slowly turned onto his other side and curled up into himself, trying to both comfort and shelter himself from the world to get away from all of the difficult thoughts and feelings plaguing his mind. All of it was making him tired again.

Before he could drift back off once more, he heard almost silent footsteps approaching. His first instinct was to jump straight from the comfortable heap he was in and get into a fighting stance, ignoring the other urge to transform. He would if it was a ghost, but he doubted it, as ghosts don’t normally walk and his ghost sense would’ve gone off already. Another thing he picked up was that it was only one pair of footsteps, which caused him to relax by a fraction, but he was still tense, waiting intensely for the person to appear out of the shadows. He can see in the dark better than normal humans, this shouldn’t be so hard.

Finally, a light switched on and Danny let out a breath he was unnecessarily holding when he saw the familiar red helmet. He stayed standing up, although he let himself ease out of the fighting pose, and waited for the man to walk the rest of the way. Danny had a mini debate in his head if he should dip now or not, but he decided it was practically already too late, and that he would run at the first signs of danger.

Red Hood stopped for a second as he saw Danny, before continuing forward.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised that you’re still here brat. It’s a good thing I actually remembered to bring you something to eat, because I’m sure you’re hungry by now.” Hood sat down a container that looked like it had spaghetti in it, and Danny heard his stomach growl loudly, causing him to realize that he was in fact hungry. “Knew it.”

Danny scowled at the smugness in the man’s voice that could be detected even with the voice modifier, before picking up the container and opening it up. His eyes widened and his mouth immediately watered as he smelled the delicious food. He didn’t even wait to think about the possibility of it being poisoned as he took the plastic fork Red Hood was holding out and began scarfing down the food. He may not need as much nutrition as other humans anymore, but he realized that he still needed something, and right now he felt like he needed a lot of something. When was the last time he ate?

Danny was already half way done with the food in a minute, not caring how he looked at the moment.

“Jeeze kid, was you starving?” Red Hood asked, and Danny swallowed a bite so that he could look up and give him a quick glare before going back to finish the rest of the amazing food. “You’re probably going to hurt your stomach with how fast you’re eating.”

“I’ll be fine, I have a tough stomach.” Danny said quietly as he wiped his mouth, remembering all the times he ate ectoplasm. “Thank you by the way, it was pretty good.”

“I figured with how fast you were eating it.” The older man said, taking the container and placing it to the side, before crouching down to Danny who was sitting on the floor once more. “Now, let me check that wound of yours.”

Danny didn’t argue or fight him, just moved his arm back and looked away, somewhat uncomfortable. He flinched a little when he felt a gloved hand touch his side, right where the scar of the wound could be seen. He hadn’t even thought about how that might look, forgetting that cuts aren’t supposed to heal that fast.

Red Hood thought the same thing as he stared astonished at the fading scar on the teen’s side. This proved that the kid was truly a meta, though there was also the possibility that he was an alien or something, either way Hood wouldn’t be surprised. After a few more seconds he pulled back, and walked over to the crate with the other stuff he laid there and pulled out a shirt, throwing it over to Danny.

“I brought you that because I know that shirt’s uncomfortable with the huge rip and blood all over it.” Red Hood said, and Danny stared for a second, stunned. He wasn’t used to this, somebody helping him without having to be asked or needing something in return, it was weird. He didn't like the feeling that came with it.

Then he broke from his shock. “Know from experience?” He asked with a small smirk, trying to hide his embarrassment. Red Hood hummed and turned around, and Danny quickly removed his very dirty shirt and changed into the pitch black shirt that was about two sizes too big for him. Danny made a quick note that it was probably Red Hood’s, and he didn’t know how to feel about that, thoroughly confused. Why was the anti-hero being so nice? He knew that regular heroes could sometimes be seen going above and beyond to help people, but vigilantes and anti-heroes didn’t really have the same reputation.

“You done yet?” The anti-hero in question asked, shifting from one foot to another.

“Oh, um, yeah.” Danny stuttered, about to die the rest of the way from embarrassment. “Thank you, again, but why are you helping me?”

Red Hood turned around, and although he was wearing a helmet, he could visibly see one of the eyes lower and the other rise. It was oddly expressive. “Why wouldn’t I? You need help and I’m willing to give some. It’s not that difficult.”

Actually, it was a lot more difficult than that for Red Hood. For one, this teen was clearly not a human, or at least completely human. The fact that the teen didn’t seem bothered to hide it with the sharp teeth and glowing eyes, although they weren’t glowing now, was not safe. There may be laws protecting metas and others like them, but that didn’t stop some Gotham people and rogues from discriminating against them. It was the main reason Batman didn’t like new metas coming into the city, not because he didn’t like them, but because somebody always seemed to get hurt.

The next thing was that Danny appeared homeless, or perhaps even had an abusive home, because he would’ve gone back yesterday after Red Hood checked on him if he didn’t. He didn’t exactly know, but having a possible meta wandering the streets of Gotham with bright green eyes? That seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

The last thing was, well, complicated. Red Hood felt responsible for the kid’s well being now. Worrying a lot more than he should be. He hoped he wasn’t taking after the old man.

Danny didn’t need to know any of this of course, that would probably freak the teen out and make him run. Which is the last thing that Red Hood needed at the moment. He would try to get the teenager to trust him a little bit, and then he’ll start asking the more important questions like the whole glowing eyes and injury thing.

Danny, who wasn’t able to look into Red’s thoughts, shrugged from the answer. “Whatever.”

Not too long after that, Red Hood left, stating that he had other duties he needed to attend. Danny thought that this would be last of him, but turns out Danny was completely wrong.

Red Hood came back every day, sometimes two or three times. He would check up on him, drop off some food and even some clothing every few days, and then leave again. A few times the man stayed to talk for a bit, and even though Danny wouldn’t ever say much, he stayed and talked anyways. He gave him a few books to keep him from being too bored, which Danny loved, because he was starting to become somewhat stir crazy.

A few days ago he brought him a pillow and a thin mattress to lie on, making Danny have a slight melt down and feel guilty. He didn’t have an explanation on why he felt like that, because he never once asked for the anti-hero’s help. Maybe he really was unused to such kindness.

Danny found himself looking forward to each visit from Red Hood, enjoying the company that he’s been missing. A voice in the back of his mind told him to leave, to not trust the vigilante, but he found out that there was a louder voice telling him to stay. It was obvious which one he decided to listen to. He must’ve really missed comfort in order to stay with a complete stranger, a dangerous one at that.

Danny was reading a book that Red Hood said was his favorite of all time, called Pride and Prejudice, and was actually enjoying it, when the man himself came back.

“Is it good? I don’t know if it’s your taste, but I assume you must like something because you’re reading it.”

Danny didn’t glance away from the book, instead he just shrugged and replied casually. “I never considered this my taste before, but it seems boredom can do stuff to you.”

It’s been about a week now, and over the course of it, they both have gotten a lot more comfortable with each other. Red Hood was surprised the teenager hadn’t left yet, but at the same time he was glad to see him there everyday. He had a growing feeling he was becoming attached, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, or if he should let himself. It was weird, really, how much Hood was starting to care about Danny.

“Whatever brat, be glad I let you borrow that at all.” Red Hood said, and Danny sniffed.

“You’re still calling me that? I already gave you my name, unlike somebody.” Danny finally looked away from the book, looking at Red Hood with one eyebrow raised.

“I’m going to keep calling you that because it’s true.” Danny’s eyebrow lowered at that, now glaring at the man, amusement showing through the playful scowl.

“If anybody’s a brat, it’s you old man.” A smirk grew on the teen’s face, watching as Red Hood’s eyes narrowed.

“How the fuck am I the brat when I’m letting you stay here and giving you shit for free? I’ll have you know that you’ll never find a better deal than this in Gotham kid.” Red Hood tried to say it playfully, but with his voice modifier it came out pretty serious sounding, and for once the anti-hero wished he had taken off his helmet.

Danny rolled his eyes, the shit eating grin never leaving his face. “You’re the one who brought me here and then continued to bring stuff, I didn’t ask for anything.”

“Only because I’m the kindest, most cool, and greatest of all vigilantes in Gotham.” Hood waved his hand and stuck out his waist while laying his other hand on it, adding to the dramatic flare he was trying to give off. He may be spending too much time with Nightwing lately, but couldn’t bring himself to care when Danny snorted, amused.

The smile on Danny’s face slowly faded, leaving a more solemn look. Red Hood was confused with the quick mood change, but quickly got serious as well, readying himself for whatever the kid was about to say.

It was a few tense seconds of silence, before Danny awkwardly cleared his throat and glared at the floor. “I- um,” The younger boy began, trying to find the right words. “I want to say thank you. You’ve done a lot for me the last couple days and I don’t know how to repay you, but I just want you to know that I appreciate everything.”

Red Hood’s eyes widened and he could feel himself smile slightly from the teen’s words. “You say thank you a lot, you know that?”

Danny shrugged, looking up at the standing man before looking over at a wall, face turned away. “It just means that I truly am thankful.”

Red Hood didn’t know how to respond to that, his mind going a million miles per minute trying to decipher all of these emotions he was feeling, some of them making him soft and mushy. So much for being tough and unfeeling.

Danny didn’t know what to say either, but he knows that he has grown attached to Red Hood. He’s only known the man for a week and he already feels like he could trust him with his life. Technically half life, but the point is that Danny knew that it was going to hurt when he finally had to leave. When all of his past mistakes caught up to him and ruined everything again. He thought that maybe it was better if he left sooner than later, before he became too familiar with Red Hood and something bad happened to him too.

Before he became something more than a stranger.

[friendlylocalwhumper]

White dulls to a moody dull blue, then erupts into fiery orange. Quinn blinks dazedly up at the sky, watching the sunset. Fingers coated in dust and blood scrape and push weakly at the chunk of concrete atop their chest, pinning them to the pile of rubble.

When Major rolled the shard of building over to them and let it slam onto their chest to pin them, they were already dazed from the beating he gave them. The dizziness hasn't left since. They draw shallow, fluttery breaths, their ribs creaking in protest against the weight. A few are broken, and Quinn has been battered by waves of panic as they've felt one rib or another nearly cave under the pressure, too.

Hours of effort have done nothing to move the rock, and now their trembling fingers barely push anymore. It is only their survival instincts, not logic, keeping their efforts alive.

Crunch. Crunch.

At first they hold their breath and fear that they are hearing, but not feeling, more bones giving way. Like they're finally dying and they've gone numb. But the sound is coming from behind them.

Crunch. Scrape. Crunch.

A shadow crosses over them. A silhouette consumes the sky that's given up its rosy pink for a more suffocating navy blue.

Wide brown eyes blink up at the man who is now crouching down to look at them. He's not covered in dust. His uniform is clean, black tee and cargo pants and probably the high-laced boots with steel hidden at the front.

"I guess work is canceled for today," He says, and whether he feels amused or angry isn't clear yet. He works here, he's - a guard, a torturer? He had coworkers here, dead friends… Quinn keeps wheezing faintly, waiting for more signs of his intentions. 

He kneels beside their head and touches their cheek. Quinn swallows nervously, eyes flicking to the side in an attempt to escape his unfaltering gaze.

"Do you know who did this, warlock?"

They did. Quinn blew up this building, watched it crumble from afar, hesitated to come rescue their friends that were buried in the rubble. They were pinned here after the fact, not during. They shake their head no.

His fingers slide down their cheek to their chin. Their breaths hitch.

"You're near the front door. You made it out. Saw something, hmm?" His forefinger taps under their jaw. Will he strangle them? Quinn squeaks and shakes their head again.

His hand finds a firmer grip on their jaw, slowly turning their head to the side. His other hand crosses their chest to hold onto their shoulder. As their cheek presses against sharp stone and gravel, Quinn draws quicker panicked breaths that stir up a cloud of dust. He's in position to snap their neck, now.

"Shh. I'll put you out of your misery. Since you aren't useful."

From behind gritted teeth comes a strangled whine. "Don't, d-, don't, please…"

The man hums. "You speak! Great. What did you see?"

"I - I…" They're close to hyperventilating, but the grip on their jaw shifts so the side of his thumb can stroke small circles into their cheek, and against their will, Quinn settles down. "I saw my… couple of warlocks running away."

"Mmh." He stops shoving their face down against the gravel, allowing them breathing room and the less immediate threat of a snapped neck. "Good start. You'll tell me everything after I get this off of you."

His hands are gone, suddenly, and the silhouette moves above them. Quinn's eyes flutter shut in a muted flinch. Rubble crunches under his boots, and then the massive chunk of building atop their chest shifts, and Quinn chokes out a wretched half-scream.

"Barely even touched it," The guy mutters, half amused and half judging. Quinn draws a shuddery breath and tries to calm themself, humiliated. 

The concrete chunk rocks once, twice, and then rolls off of them. Through each heave of it Quinn tries and fails to scream. As its weight compresses the side of their ribcage to finally roll off, they suck in a noisy, reedy gasp which cuts off as the pain gets too extreme for breathing to be worth it.

They blink dazedly up at the sky, silent, with a handful of freshly broken ribs that just gave way under that rolling concrete. A mewl, then a broken sob tumbles out of them, and they lie there gasping like a gutted fish dying on dry land.

Nonplussed and moving with slow confidence, the man feels along their chest for the breaks, grunts, and then scoops them up into his arms. The last thing that Quinn sees is the night sky hurtling toward them, and then it goes black.

[xiaolindude]

bravery & belonging / xs drabble

In which Raimundo struggles with returning to the Temple after once again trapping Wuya in the puzzle box, and Dojo is a wonderful grandpa dragon.

Raimundo had been back at the Temple for a couple of weeks, and it was… tough. He knew they didn’t trust him, even if they wanted to (in Clay and Kimiko’s cases). He knew he’d burned those bridges. Others were more open about this mistrust (Omi) and disappointment (Fung). But he deserved it. He deserved it all. He could stick it out, because he had to, because he needed to fix it. He needed to make up for everything he’d done and everything he’d almost let happen.

“I believe we ought to be taking watch. Raimundo has stolen Shen Gong Wu from us before and delivered it into evil’s waiting hands!” Omi’s voice from the kitchen. Rai froze outside the door as ice slipped into his belly. 

“Hey, now—” And that was Dojo, sounding reproachful, but he was interrupted by Fung.

“A resourceful idea, young one. But we must show trust in Raimundo. The vault password has already been changed. Perhaps he will betray us again, but if we do not let him try to make amends, he will never be able to readapt to Temple life.”

Perhaps he will betray us again. It had been said so… matter-of-factly. Like it was within the realms of possibility. As if he wouldn’t give anything to take back what he’d done. Like he hadn’t learned from his mistakes. His heart pounded; he could feel the blood in his ears. Of course he was trying to make amends! He’d been busting his ass for weeks just trying to show everyone how sorry he was, trying to fix what he’d done. 

“I still believe we should all be on our guard!” Omi insisted.

Rai swallowed hard. He wanted to be angry, but he wasn’t. How could he be? Omi was right. He left without a sound, their words crawling along his skin with every step. 

—

As dusky evening turned to inky black night, the darkness found Rai sitting in a low branch of a tree out on the Temple grounds. He stared into the shadows, unseeing, feeling too much and too little, like his bones were hollow and his mind was full. He could feel the uneven bark digging into him through his robes, pressing uncomfortable grooves into his skin. Who cared? He deserved much worse. His hands were busy, tugging at the sash from his robes, twisting it between anxious fingers, knotting and pulling and untying and repeating.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement, but without the presence of mind to actually turn and look, he simply sat there, not knowing who it was and not caring. That was, until there was a voice. 

“What’s eatin’ ya, kiddo?” 

Rai didn’t even spare Dojo a glance. “Nothing,” he answered, voice dull, flat. His hands kept fidgeting. No, he didn’t expect Dojo to buy it, wasn’t even making an effort to be convincing, but he also wasn’t expecting to be pressed on the subject. 

“Ahhh, c’mon. It’s okay. Just give them some more time, they’ll come round. You just saved the world, kid, you can–” 

“Saved it from who?” The words burst from Rai unbidden. He screwed up the sash of his robes and threw it into the darkness, a wind picking up around them as he finally turned to look at Dojo. “Huh? Why’d the world need saving? It was my mess!” 

Dojo was not fazed by Raimundo’s raised voice. “And you cleaned it up. Good as new.” 

Rai laughed, but the sound was hollow and his voice cracked.

“The world that’s been here for billions of years… everything in it. Everyone. You guys, my family. I nearly destroyed it all. I messed it all up, Dojo, I messed it all up. There’s no ‘good as new’. I can’t take back what I did, they’re never gonna trust me again, and I can’t fix it!” 

He jumped down from the branch, landing lithely on the grass below and gripping at his hair, his entire body trembling. “I can’t fix it. What the hell am I supposed to do, dude?! I wanna go home! I wanna go home, but hell if I can face them after what I did! I’m not gonna tell my mãe that I nearly got her killed because my feelings were hurt. God!” His voice broke; he strode away, pushing his fists into his eyes, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tight. Dojo stared after him. 

“Not like I ever belonged here anyway,” Rai murmured, voice quieter now. He’d found out months ago. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered so much if he was better, if he could keep up with the others, if he hadn’t betrayed everyone, but, well, now it mattered more than ever. Now it tugged at every nerve in his body, demanding to be known, reminding him every second that he shouldn’t even be here in the first place. Of course he was the weak link. If destiny existed, that was his. To fall behind. 

The little dragon had been quiet a long time, but now he hopped up onto the low stone wall stretching out in front of them and squinted over at Raimundo in the darkness. “You belong here just as much as the others. You know that.” 

Rai didn’t even have it in him to laugh at that. He just looked at Dojo, shaking his head, surprised that the dragon was still bothering to lie. “You don’t believe that. You know I don’t, you and Fung know that. I never belonged here.” 

“Why not?” Dojo demanded, moving closer along the wall even as Rai began to pace agitatedly beside the tree. 

“The Wuxing Elements! I’m not an idiot, dude, I read the scrolls. All of them. Earth, water, fire, wood, metal. You know what isn’t on the list? Me. I’m not even one of them, I never was, and we all just pretended! We just… we just faked it, for months, and wondered why I can’t keep up with everyone. And hell, while I’m at it – Wuya! Why me? She got in my head, dude, do you know what that feels like?!” When Dojo didn’t answer, Rai ploughed on. “It’s fucked. It feels like I’ll never even be safe in my own stupid brain ever again. She got in my head and she saw it all, and I wish I’d never gone with her and I’m sorry about it, but why does part of me miss her?! What the hell is wrong with me, Dojo?!” 

He deflated, the fight leaving him as quickly as it’d arrived. His chest heaved. Sagging under the weight of guilt and grief, Rai leaned against the wall, head hanging, the stones cold beneath his touch. “Just forget it, alright? Go back inside, dude.” 

Dojo was silent a while longer; Rai could feel the dragon’s eyes on him, just processing everything he’d just said. 

He wasn’t sure how long they remained in silence. Didn’t matter. His hair fell into his face as his head hung, and he didn’t lift a hand to fix it, just scraping his nails against the stone instead, again and again. And then there was Dojo, crawling over the top of the wall until he reached Rai, perching himself on Rai’s wrist and glaring up at him.

“Alright, kid, you know what? That’s it. Enough. You made a mistake. A big one. Big deal, alright! Who hasn’t?! You’re a child who has saved the world a handful of times. So you nearly broke it once, so what? Doesn’t even tip the scales. Don’t interrupt an ancient dragon,” he added sharply as Rai opened his mouth to argue. 

Rai’s fists clenched, his breathing picking up, heart pounding. He couldn’t listen to this. He couldn’t listen to Dojo defending him, pretending like he had any right to be here, like he ever deserved to come back after what he’d done. He couldn’t stand it.

“You’re not a Wuxing elemental. Okay. Maybe you’ll always feel kinda out of place with the others. Maybe you would’ve felt that anyway. Can’t change it. But you are one of my kids, and I’ll be damned straight to the Yin Yang world for five thousand years if I’m gonna let you get away with talking to yourself like this.” 

Quiet settled. What was Rai supposed to say to that? He didn’t deserve Dojo’s love and support, but it still meant everything. He had no response and no will left for arguing. When Rai finally turned to look at Dojo, it was with tears brimming in his eyes.

“... I just wanna go home, Dojo.” 

He could watch the dragon’s heart break in real time, and it seemed so strange, that a creature so old could still care so deeply about him, of all things. But here was the proof right in front of him. 

Dojo sighed and climbed up Rai’s arm to wrap loosely around his neck, nuzzling against his shoulder. “Then I’ll take you home,” he said simply. Like it was nothing. Like Rai deserved a break, like he could just show his face back in Rio after everything he’d done.

It was as if the dragon could sense his thoughts, and he wrapped a little tighter around Rai as the tears finally began to slip down the young monk’s cheeks. “You really think you don’t belong here? You left us for a reason, I know why you did. But, kid, you came back for a reason. Set saving the world aside - you coming back? Owning up to what you did? That’s bravery like I haven’t seen in decades. The ghost of Dashi said well done, and he meant it. So don’t you tell me you don’t belong here.” 

Rai wiped fiercely at his tears, heart pounding as his mind filled with everything that Dojo was saying. Instead of saying anything, he lifted his arms to hug the dragon closer, pressing his face into his scales. Dojo settled in Rai’s arms, squeezing him in return, patting his shoulder.

“I’ll take you home tomorrow. Take some time off. Training will still be here in a week or two.” 

And finally, the fight in him well and truly gone, Rai just nodded. 

—

They slept outside that night.

Something about actually going back into the Temple now that he’d let all of those thoughts loose just didn’t sit right with Rai. He couldn’t face it, sleeping in his tiny little room between Kimiko and Clay as if nothing had happened. Dojo hadn’t tried to convince him. Say what you will about that dragon, but he could pick his battles. 

Instead, Dojo simply grew to his much larger size, dwarfing the stone wall beside them and curling up beside the tree with Raimundo held in the crook of his elbow. Being outside always helped Rai to clear his head - he suspected it was something to do with being bathed in his element, all this fresh air making him feel stronger. Because whatever he was, whatever he’d done, wherever he did or didn’t belong, he still had the air. He still had his powers.

It was surprisingly comfortable, curled up with an enormous dragon, and whether it was the fact that he’d offloaded so much crap or the thought of returning home tomorrow, Rai fell asleep faster than he had for weeks. He didn’t even notice Dojo staying awake to keep watch over the most wayward of all his kids. The one who needed him the most.