#button varian

[pansy-picnics]

Post vat7k team radical save me

[nart-is-a-monster]

Also a little embroidery thingy I did for the fags

Reason? Bored at work

Why so many buttons? Mind your own business David.

[avo-gal]

Trying a new drawing app. Not sure how I feel Abt it...

[velaris-fic-repository]

Starry Night Orchids | Chapter 1

Nyx x Eris’s Daughter!Reader

A/N: This was so fun to write oh my goodness!

Court politics | Courtship politics | Courtly scheming| A spoiled brat pushes reader’s buttons| A very good boy| Lucien’s the best | Eris is a good dad

Nyx stared at the hound with wide eyes. “Does she bring that thing fucking everywhere?”

Merrick, Tarquin’s son, heir to Summer, and Nyx’s honorary cousin by way of Amren and Varian’s common-law marriage, gulped beside him, “since he was big enough to go with her, yes.”

The terrifying terror of a hunting dog heeled at your feet had been a present from your father several years ago. A hound you could raise yourself for whatever purpose you wished. Many in your court - remnants from the days of the grandfather you never had the misfortune of meeting - had expected you to raise the pup as an adorable furry friend like the foxes you had a habit of feeding. Something they thought befit their opinion of what a High Lord’s daughter should be.

You had raised a furry friend alright, just one more suited for physical and social battles than walks through the woods.

In secret you babied Wolfe, but he was a smart dog. He understood that while you loved him, and behind closed doors would give him all the scritches and kisses he wanted, there were times and places for different kinds of work. This Autumn Equinox ball was one of them.

Your father, Eris, had done a great deal of work in the Autumn Court after the truly unfortunate demise of your grandfather. Not that you were alive to see those immediate changes.

He’d told you that he wanted to make the court a better place for many people. Your grandmother - though she lived in Day now - your Uncle Lucien, your mother, you.

But while Autumn had mostly turned from a court of teeth and fire to one more focused on the glories of your season, there was still a reputation to uphold. Many of the High Lords suspected that Beron’s rule had not ended peacefully. And as much as they may prefer Eris to your late grandfather, they were still just a bit wary of your family.

Your father never wanted you, his heir and beloved daughter, to ever bow or shrink for anyone. So posturing and baring your teeth, as it were, is what you did. Many in Prythian were mildly unnerved by you and Wolfe, and you liked it that way. Their momentary apprehension fueled you, made you feel confident in the power you already had.

Even if, often, you wished someone would see the heart of you. The way your mother had with Eris.

You looked up from your assessment of the room, eyes alighting on Nyx and Merrick watching you from across the crowded hall. You grinned at them scratching behind Wolfe’s ear, relishing in the discomfort in the Summer Court heir.

Nyx however, knew a little more about your family history than Merrick. Your uncle was his mother’s close friend even if the bond with his aunt didn’t pan out. And he knew exactly how your father got the throne, and how different a male Eris was from what he showed most of Prythian.

There was a deadly edge to your smile, but Nyx found himself unbothered by it. He knew the roles his family has played before. He’d come to recognize similar performances in others.

He scrunched his nose up skeptically your way. If you wanted to throw him off kilter, you’d have to work harder than that.

For some unexplainable reason - one that totally, absolutely escaped him - Nyx had taken to watching you at events like this one.

He watched as a tall blond male, dripping with smarm, dressed in a mortifying shade of orange, approached you. He recognized the male and ground his teeth. Complicated history between Autumn and Night aside, there was no one at this party he’d rather you not talk to than Oleander.

“Hi boys,” a female voice purred behind Nyx and Merrick. Nyx had been halfway into marching over to you, when his shoulder was touched - wings blessedly tucked away - drawing his attention behind him.

With one hand each on his and Merrick’s backs, the twin to the male talking to you, was grinning coyly up at them.

Amaryllis and her brother Oleander, the terrible twin heirs to Spring. Tamlin’s simpering and backhanded children.

Nyx pivoted immediately, removing her hand from his back, Merrick a step behind. Amaryllis was wearing a puffy purple dress that was darker than her usual shades, coming across almost as the color of a night dark sky or ocean. Nyx and Merrick shared brief, similar looks of disdain. Merrick’s was gone faster and was far more subtle, however.

One of the Spring twins’ favorite things to do at parties like this was to taunt people not just with their conversational slings and arrows, but in their dress as well. Often, they wore colors specifically to signal one thing or another to whoever their chosen target of the evening was. It never made sense to Nyx but most of what Spring got up to didn’t make sense to him.

Nyx couldn’t keep himself from rolling his eyes, “what do you want?”

Amaryllis’s eyes turned big, pitiful and doe-like and both boys knew every bit of it was fake as could be. “I can’t just want to talk to someone?”

“In my experience, Amaryllis,” Merrick said, voice diplomatic, “you don’t often make-“

“You don’t talk to somebody unless you want something,” Nyx said, not having enough patience with the female in front of him to let Merrick finish. “So what do you want?”

“Would either of you care to offer the lady a dance?”

Nyx snorted. Merrick stayed quiet.

After a beat Nyx said, “you’re serious?”

Amaryllis’s eyes bubbled with crocodile tears. “Yes.”

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,’ Nyx thought in Merrick’s direction.

Merrick sighed, “there are plenty of other males to dance with Amaryllis, why not ask them?”

Amaryllis began to sniffle and blubber.

‘Cauldron, how old is she?’ Nyx quietly said again. Had it been anyone else, Nyx wouldn’t have denied a pretty girl the chance to dance. He loved dancing in settings like this. It was always fun, a little flirtatious, and always entertaining.

It was a shame that the potential partner this time was a female he positively could not stand.

‘She’s going to make a scene if one of us doesn’t do something,’ Merrick thought back. It appeared he didn’t want to dance with her anymore than Nyx did.

Merrick had a massive crush on Kallias and Viviane’s daughter. He wanted to court her properly, he just hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask her yet. The last thing he needed was rumors swirling around about him and the female heir of Spring. The relationship would be over before it even got the chance to start. Amaryllis, conniving little snake that she was, likely knew that. She was banking on Nyx’s hatred of her to spell doom for Merrick’s romantic prospects.

“Fine,” Nyx said, “If I dance with you once will you leave us both alone?”

“Nyx, you don’t,” Merrick began but the terror in purple cut him off.

“Sure, Nyxie.” A feral, satisfied smile, assuring him that she’d gotten exactly what she wanted. Nyx fought the urge to vomit.

Nyx’s usual play was bowing and offering a hand to his prospective dance partner. Once the hand was taken, he’d gaze up at them and softly kiss the back of it. Then he’d smile - a mix of genuine joy and mischievous glee - as he watched the reaction.

Instead, this time, he stiffly held himself in a dancing position, waiting for her to take his hands.

She glommed onto him, wrapping herself around him in a hug, hands brushed his shoulders where his wings would be if they weren’t magically concealed. Firmly, he grabbed her hands and pulled them back where he wanted them.

Merrick sent Nyx the most apologetic look he’d ever seen.

‘Finally ask your girl to dance, and we’re even, okay? Don’t feel sorry for me, I’ll manage.’ Nyx stiffly spun Amaryllis around, out of Merrick’s view. ‘Go now before she sees.’

Then Merrick was gone.

The music swirled around them and the other dancers, and Nyx quickly decided he hated this piece.

“The way people rave about your dancing, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so stiff, Nyxie,” Amaryllis cooed with a coquettish little laugh.

Nyx really was starting to feel sick, perhaps that last spin had been a mistake.

“My dancing is entirely dependent on the company I do it with,” he said.

“Aww, you don’t mean that!”

Twelve different disarming comments danced on the tip of Nyx’s tongue but he forwent them all in favor of another stiff spin.

Commotion to the side of the ballroom halted all dancing and conversation. Nyx dropped Amaryllis’s hands as his head whipped over to where the sound had come from.

Over in the last place Nyx had seen you, Oleander stood - a raging image of his father. He held his hand aloft, a bit of blood dripping from small puncture wounds. You were gone, the faint sent of smoke wafting over to Nyx. Wolfe, however, stood dropped low in a crouch a pace away from Oleander, growling, with faintly red teeth.

“The fucking thing bit me!”

Amaryllis surged over to her brother, pulling him away from Wolfe like he was the greatest monster known to faekind, all the while fretting over the tiny puncture marks that clearly were a warning nip more than anything else. For Cauldron’s sake, he could tell from where he stood the wounds wouldn’t last the hour.

Nyx walked over, cautiously but firmly approaching Wolfe, who was still faintly growling up at Oleander.

“Someone needs to put that thing down!” Oleander shouted.

Nyx held his hand out for Wolfe, who paused his snarling to look up at the Night Court’s heir. Wolfe sniffed the offered hand, looking at Nyx with indifference.

“He doesn’t seem too bad to me,” Nyx responded, “he was trained to protect his owner, seems to me he was just doing his job.”

Amaryllis dramatically gasped, something a bad actress in one of Velaris’s many theaters would have thought to accurately portray horrific betrayal.

Nyx ignored her, staring down her brother. He received a similar look of contempt from Oleander.

Nyx shrugged, placed one hand in his pocket, carefully scratched Wolfe behind the ear and whispered, “let’s go find your mom, huh?”

Wolfe looked at Oleander one final time before plodding after the smoke smell to the door, Nyx following after, pausing only to open the door and step outside after the dog. He didn’t care that the ballroom remained silent the entire time, he had an Autumn Court princess to find.

“Nyx!” Amaryllis, the brat that she was, whined, “we haven’t finished dancing yet!”

Nyx quickly, without looking back, gestured to the silent ballroom, “Sounds like the song’s over.”

He swore he heard his uncle’s booming laugh just before the door closed.

Outside the Forest House, on the exterior walkways, it was beautiful. Soft golden light flitted out through the windows, partially lighting the darkened balcony. Nyx would give Autumn this, it was gorgeous at night. The reds and oranges of the leaves turned shades of blue and purple in the dark, the only lights being the golden red of a hearth or campfire. Looking up, Nyx noticed that the moon was almost perpetually golden here. An ever harvest moon for the seasonal court built on yields of abundant crops.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” He heard a hushed, sweet voice further away, followed by a sigh of relief. He blinked in the dark, glancing in front of him to find you. Hidden away from the light of the windows, visible only where you’d knelt down to inspect your prized pooch.

Nyx, even though he’d suspected some of what he saw now, was surprised to see you like this. Kneeling in front of your beloved furry friend, your hair haloed where the golden light from inside just managed to reach you. There were drying tear tracks on your face, he realized with a start.

You looked small, cracked slightly to his eyes, as you hugged Wolfe to you.

“I’m so sorry, bud,” you said, even through your own discomfort, “I’m sorry I left you there.”

“You really should see the other guy,” Nyx said stepping closer, “I thought Amaryllis was going to faint.”

You looked up, recognizing who stood before you, and stiffened. Where Wolfe had been licking at your tears, he stopped, heeling to sit at your feet as you stood up. He sat regally beside you, watching Nyx with a sharp eye.

“It’s you.”

“It’s me.”

“What do you want?” You wiped as subtly as you could at what evidence of your tears remained on your face, but Nyx had seen it and it appeared you recognized that. Classified the information he now had on you. Nyx found he didn’t like how unsettled you seemed by it.

“I, uhm, I was helping Wolfe find his way back to you. Oleander looked about ready to-“ Nyx realized that what he was about to say would likely be unhelpful, and stopped.

You beat him to the thought though. “If he even thinks of laying a finger on Wolfe, I’ll kill him. I- I don’t care what anyone says.”

Nyx noted the stumble in your words, that little pause that could say so much if he figured out what it was for.

“Well,” you said, still sounding a little shaken, “was there anything else you needed? Anything hospitality wise is inside” The edge hadn’t left your voice, but Nyx decided he’d try his luck tonight.

He leaned his arms on the railing, looking cautiously at you, not unlike approaching a wild animal. “Actually, I wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

“Well, I’m fine, alright, I don’t want your help, and I certainly don’t want your pity,” you bit at him.

Nyx pushed forward, “What did he say to you?”

You said nothing.

“I know he said something, or the ballroom wouldn’t have smelled like a barely contained inferno. What did he say?”

The balcony doors eased open a crack, allowing another figure to step out onto the walkway.

“There you are,” a familiar, smooth voice said as your Uncle Lucien swept over to stand between the two of you. “I’ve been looking everywhere. You are a remarkably difficult female to find, young lady.”

For the first time all evening, Nyx watched a real smile spread across your face. Like starlight in the darkness. It was…

“You’ve been hunting with me before,” you said to Lucien, “you shouldn’t be surprised.”

Lucien smiled rakishly at you, shaking his head fondly. His expression shifted to a more serious one as he asked, “are you alright?”

Nyx expected some bite, some comment to your uncle to mind his own business, but instead, you seemed to melt like candle wax. As if Lucien held the magic words to loosen your tongue.

You looked down to save yourself some amount of embarrassment, but you answered him. “I’ve been better.”

Nyx shifted, remaining quiet. It was like you’d forgotten he was there. The sharp-toothed, sharp-clawed Princess of Autumn was gone. This was Lucien’s niece, and she’d been hurt tonight.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You looked up at Lucien with a sharp eye, the word ‘no,’ etched into every inch of you.

“Okay,” Lucien said, “answer a question or two for me first, little flame?”

“Fine.”

“Did Oleander approach you, or did you approach him?”

“He came to me.”

“And Wolfe-“

“I didn’t tell him to do anything, I just left. I assumed he’d follow me. Oleander must have done something. He can say whatever lie he wants, but we didn’t do anything to him that he didn’t earn.”

Wolfe, as if to help, barked.

Lucien looked down at the dog and nodded sagely. That got a laugh out of you, and an unbidden soft smile out of Nyx.

“There she is,” Lucien smiled.

The balcony doors opened once again, your father’s broad shadow stretching out to meet you all before the door shut behind him.

Eris frowned at you and shared a brief look with his little brother. He sent one quick side glance at Nyx as well before he said, “I’d like to speak with my daughter. Alone.”

“Where’s-“ Lucien began but he didn’t have to say your mother’s name for any of you to know who he was asking about.

“Inside, handling it,” Eris responded.

Eris’s tone didn’t sound angered, at least not at you, but Nyx watched as you dropped your head, suddenly very interested in your boots and Wolfe’s paws.

“And no,” Eris said, a touch of his customary dry humor leaking in, “she does not need your help, brother. We’ll be inside shortly.”

Lucien nodded, sending a sympathetic smile your way before walking to the door.

“Alone means you too, boy,” Eris said when Nyx didn’t move.

Nyx locked eyes with you, then looked over his shoulder at Lucien, who stood waiting for him by the door.

Not entirely wanting to, Nyx turned and followed Lucien inside.

“Let’s go find Cassian,” Lucien suggested, “the least we can do for the High Lady is ensure he doesn’t aggravate the situation.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Nyx asked. He didn’t have to specify he was talking about you.

Lucien paused, looking down at his friend’s son, at the concern on his face. “She’ll be alright, I’m sure. I don’t know what happened, but if she is every inch her mother and father’s daughter - and she is - she will be just fine. Thank you, Nyx, for checking on her before we could.”

Nyx nodded then with a sour expression, “What makes Oleander and Amaryllis think they can get away with treating people like this?”

Lucien sighed, “Those children are products of their environment. Tam… Their father did not shield them from his worst courtiers and the two of them learned by example.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Nyx argued.

“No,” Lucien said, patting the younger male’s shoulder, “No it doesn’t. Come on.”

Nyx frowned, sending one last look back over his shoulders, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and Eris through the window.

Outside, Eris studied you momentarily. He waited for you to start, but once he realized you would not, that you would continue staring at the ground, he sighed and tilted your head up to meet his eyes.

“Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Pretty sure the whole ballroom saw.”

Eris tilted his head, waiting.

You grabbed Wolfe and hugged him, resting your chin on his head. The affection had him wagging his tail softly into your side, but he whined for both of you.

“Darling, please,” Eris said, his voice like a breaking heart.

You mumbled your answer into Wolfe’s fur.

“What?”

“I failed you,” you said.

Now Eris’s heart truly did break. He didn’t balk at the dog in between you, pulling the both of you closer, wrapping his arms around the two of you, studying your face.

“Failed me how, fawn?”

You growled your frustration. “Today was mine. Ours. Our equinox. And I let him take it from me, I let him ruin it. I let him win. I let him beat me.”

“And you’ll be ready for him next time, little vixen,” Eris said, comfortingly.

“Is mother-“

“She’s talking to Tamlin now, things will be fine, darling. You did everything right.”

You sighed, rubbing your thumb through Wolfe’s fur.

“I have to ask, however,” he began, dangling the end of his sentence, waiting for your answer.

Oleander’s words echoed in your head, a million back-handed little comments.

Interesting that no one wanted to dance with a vicious little thing like you.

Everyone knows what your father did.

Shut up, you’d said.

What are you going to do, kill me?

Nothing serious, but every tiny jab had been delivered with such a sadistic sneer that they stuck in, penetrated your armor and illuminated everything you feared. All you’d ever wanted was for someone to love you. Oleander highlighted your most devastating what-if. What if no one trusted you enough to try?

“I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to sleep,” you responded.

Eris nodded, “alright.”

He stood and offered his arm to you.

“I can walk there myself, father,” you groaned.

Eris smiled softly, “someone needs to escort the lady home.”

You faintly smiled back, linking your arm with his and fell onto his broad arm. Leaning into your father’s steady support the whole way, your best friend with four paws trailing behind you.

A/N: Ah! Super proud of this one! I had a lot of fun with names in this! Looking forward to the next one! Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged! Have a good night!

P.S. Did you know orchids are spring and fall blooming flowers?

[verysociallyakward]

Family in V&T7K

There are a lot of family dynamics in V&T7K and it could even be seen as theme. Especially motherhood.

Take the fatherly dynamics of both Qurin and Cyrus.

Qurin is an active father in Varians life as he takes care of Varians physical needs and attempts to protect him from danger whether that be from himself or outside forces. Which is why Qurin didn't want Varian to go on such a journey in the first place.

Cyrus on the other hand can't or won't protect or care for Hugo. Since Cyrus doesn't have a canon personality we don't have a reason for a lack of intervention in Hugo's life but we can see the effects of it as Hugo is now incredibly independent.

Qurin's over protectiveness has caused Varian to constantly seek the approval of his father and others, just wanting his father to be proud of him. While Cyrus' neglect has caused Hugo to be overly independent and mistrusting of others, primarily authority figures.

Then there are the sibling dynamics that make up team radical.

Varian and Nuru have the dynamic of the of the two older siblings that understand each other and lean on each other. They both hold great responsibilities and expectations not only from themselves but from others too. So they share ideas, talk out their problems with each other, and help each other when one they get overwhelmed. They both share the burden of keeping the group stable because they were the only ones taught how to.

Hugo and Nuru have the dynamic of the siblings that "hate" each other. They are constantly arguing, constantly one-uping each other, and constantly getting on each others nerves. They claim to hate each other but they would fiercely protect each other. They know all the right buttons to push but also what buttons to never approach. And after their petty fights they go back to acting like nothing happened but if tensions are still running high one will pop into the others room and ask "wanna go get something to eat." And then they go get something to eat because it was nothing personal. They will never apologize to each other properly but they don't need to.

Nuru and Yong, parentified older sister and baby brother. Varian and Hugo can and do provide for Yong's physical needs and do protect him from danger, but they lack the emotional skills to provide for Yong's emotional needs. Because of Nuru's more stable and positive childhood she would have those skills and so the burden would fall to her to take care of Yong's emotional needs. The older sister is exhausted and stressed as she continually makes sacrifices to care for a child when she herself is one. She does everything to make sure he grows up to be a good man, she encourages him and revels in his accomplishments but also reprimands him for his bad behavior. She leans him on her shoulder when he's upset and reminds him that he is loved. The baby brother sees his sisters sacrifice and feels guilty. He tries to lighten her burden by hiding his problems and doing anything to help his sister. He works hard at everything he does so that his sisters efforts won't go to waste. He's incredibly protective and clingy, willing to do anything for his sister. He reminds her that he loves her and is grateful.

Hugo and Yong are chaotic older brother and chaotic younger brother. These two should never be left alone together because something will be set on fire. The older brother definitely knows better but does not care, the younger brother probably knows better but also does not care and has matches for some reason. The older brother has definitely been to jail but has somehow kept his brother out of juvie. If the younger brother gets hurt then the older brother becomes protective and apologetic and will hold back on their wild antics for awhile. The younger brother is down for anything no matter how injured he gets. He's full of restless energy and thinks any idea is a fun idea but if the older brother gets hurt then the younger one will freak out having no idea what to do other than cry and call for help.

The sibling dynamics are fun to analyze and do change over the course of the story goes on and the characters develop. I don't think Nuru would stay parentified as Varian and Hugo would gain the emotional tools to meet Yong's needs and would give Nuru the chance to be a kid.

Your probably wondering about what Varians and Yong's relationship is to which I have to say I'm not sure.

Their relationship started of as reluctant mentor and hyperactive student dynamic but as an emotional bond was formed that is somewhat familial but how. In many stories of the mentor and student relationship it typically evolves into a father-son dynamic and while Yong does have the characteristics and emotional beats of a son role Varian doesn't fit the father role. Varian lacks the maturity and responsibility of a father throughout the entirety of Vat7k it's not something he really grows into. I have narrowed it down to Uncle and Nephew or godfather and godson. The uncle cares about his nephew, loves him, and will kill for him, and even take custody if he has to. He teaches the nephew interesting things, takes him to fun places and gives him a bunch of sugar before taking him back to his parents. The nephew thinks his uncle is cool and loves hanging out with him. The godfather may have agreed to care for the godson but he didn't expect to actually have to. He tries to meet the kids needs but struggles to bond with him he doesn't fill the role of a father and he doesn't think he wants to. The godson clings to his godfather and looks towards him to fill the role of his parents, looking for an emotional connection.

This post is too long I'll do motherhood later.

[kiridoesrandomthings]

guys dont laugh it’s my first time like ever painting with acrylic and it was hard— had to rush too 💀— anyways my friend invited me over to paint and hang out and ofc my obsessed little brain attempted varian <3 the whole time i was like ‘wheres the undo button WHERES THE MAGIC WAND TOOL 😭’ fr tho even if he isnt perfect i had fun so i thouufht id share lol dw i’ll be sticking to digital art in the future tho 😰

[antiquepearlss]

Lance Claus and Varian The Elf (A Tangled Christmas Ficlet)

I just wanted to write Eugene forcing Varian to dress up as an elf for Christmas, and it turned into something a little sweeter.

———

“Put on the fucking tights Varian!”

“No! They’re way too small for me!”

“Yeah well in my defense I didn’t know you could even have a growth spurt, you’re tiny!”

“I’m sixteen!”

Varian scowled up at Eugene, who held a bright green elf costume bundled in his arms.

“Varian it’s part of your community service. Besides, Kiera and Catalina were happy to play elves. And you’ll be with Lance all day.”

Varian raised an eyebrow “playing an elf for Santa-Lance is part of my community service?”

“Yes. Now put on the tights and hat or you’re going back to a cell.” The older man joked.

“I’d rather go back to prison” Varian deadpanned.

Eugene shoved the bundle of clothing into Varian’s arms. The fabric was of good quality, but the outfit itself was beyond gaudy and tacky. Knowing Eugene and Lance, they probably specifically made it to be as idiotic as possible, easily humiliating the wearer.

Who just so happened to be Varian.

He was really starting to regret taking the one year of community service deal. Rapunzel was nothing but kind and generous, rarely asking him to do anything he wouldn’t already offer to do. Bringing back the King and Queen’s memories, deciphering the scroll, helping to repair the damage the Saporian Separatists caused, etc. He was beyond happy to help Rapunzel. But Eugene gladly took advantage of Varian’s subservient condition and asked him to do the most ridiculous stuff. Like wear an elf costume and stand beside Lance as he pretended to be Santa Claus.

The teenager scowled up at his friend who looked too smug for his own good. His face twisted into a content smile. If he didn’t know that Eugene could easily overpower him in his sleep, he’d kick and bite him just for looking like that.

Varian settled for flipping him off, to which Eugene stuck his tongue out in turn.

“Dick.”

“Asshole.”

💙🤍💙🤍💙

After almost ten minutes of humiliating shimmying and struggling, Varian stood in front of the full length mirror in his small room in the castle.

The tights were indeed too small, the green fabric practically a second skin. The matching shirt didn’t provide much modesty either, but at least it was large enough to cover what needed to be covered. The thick red belt cinched his waist, with the bottom of his shirt acting more like a skirt, as it was decorated in white pom-poms. White buttons dotted the front of the shirt, alongside a bright red collar, also lined in pom-poms.

Gone were his thick and protective boots and gloves, which were now replaced with bright green curled shoes with white pom-poms and red and white striped gloves that would do very little to provide warmth for the winter chill.

And gone were his goggles, now replaced with a large, floppy green hat with a little white bell attached to the end. Just to add insult to the injury. A Eugene addition, he was sure. 

Fuck it, he was putting his goggles on over the hat. Just to be a bitch.

Varian groaned, loudly. He could barely move in the get-up. He jingled with every step. Were there bells inside the pom-poms? He looked a Christmas jester.

He would really, really rather go back to prison.

He also probably would, as he was very much considering murdering the snickering older man just outside the door.

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

Varian wished Cassandra would kidnap him again. He’d rather be dangling from hundreds of feet in the air than be doing whatever it is he’s doing right now.

Which wasn’t much, but still, it was awful.

Varian frowned as he and Catalina, who alongside Kiera, were dressed as elves; stood beside Lance, who was dressed as Santa Claus. They were merely decor, while Santa was the main act. With children climbing onto his lap and telling him what they wanted for Christmas, with Varian writing down each and every request. It was for show, he was sure, but he was so bored, and Eugene was very insistent, that he wrote down at least one gift from each child. Ranging from simple toys, to complex gifts, to “world peace.” (Which was going to be very difficult coming from these elves.) Alongside theirs and their parents names.

Despite much prodding from Santa Strongbow, Varian’s expression did not change. He scowled his way through every visit from every child.

It didn’t help that they were in the middle of the town square, with the cold biting his lower body through the very thin tights he was wearing. 

Kiera and Catalina happily played along, dutifully smiling and standing at Lance’s side as he greeted each kid and asked what they wanted for Christmas. It was almost sweet, that the two girls who probably never got the chance to have any traditional Christmas experiences, were so eager to give that to other children.

And the fact that Eugene and Lance, who too never celebrated Christmas as children, were the ones who put the whole event together, was sweet.

It almost warmed his heart, until Kiera started talking.

“Just be glad you don’t have to wear the fake beard. I tried it, it smells awful.”

Varian snorted “I wonder where they got the hair from.”

“Probably Shorty” Lance said as one child shimmied his way off his lap. “Eugene said this beard was donated.”

The three elves shuddered.

Varian groaned as he peered down the line, there were many parents waiting alongside their eager children. There were even adults without children, simply just wanting to say hi to the Santa Impersonator. 

They were going to be here for hours.

“Stop being so mopey, you’re gonna ruin this for the kids.” Lance whispered to Varian in between child visits. “At least you don’t have kids peeing themselves on your lap.”

“And you do?”

“No, I’m just saying, it could be worse.”

Varian gave an incredulous look, before dropping the subject and donning a slightly-less-sneering facial expression.

A little boy with fiery red hair hopped onto Lance’s lap, his short size meaning he struggled a bit, until Lance scooped him up. The small child marveled at the size difference. 

“I’m Richard!” He said happily “I’m six!”

Lance laughed merrily “well Richard, were you good this year?”

The boy nodded his head animatedly.

“Well then, what do you want for Christmas?”

“Why do your reindeer look like that?” The small child took the group off guard by pointing over to Max, Ruddiger, and Pascal, who were sitting off to the side and sporting home-made reindeer antlers.

Lance floundered for a second before answering with a simple “they’re new to the job.”

The kids curiosity wasn’t satisfied, though. Because then next he asked “why is your beard so smelly?”

Varian lifted his notebook to his face to hide his snort of laughter.

“Ah well, I got so distracted by eating cookies I forgot to wash it!” Lance replied.

The child didn’t stop “I thought Santa was supposed to be fat. You’re only a little fat.”

Lance Claus seemed to be at a loss for words, so Kiera piped up with “Santa is on a new workout regimen.” 

“Ohhh.” The child, Richard, accepted. Before Lance could ask the child what he wanted for Christmas again, Richard asked “why does your elf look so grumpy?” 

Varian scowled at the tiny finger pointed his way, and pointedly ignored Lance’s amused look.

“Because I’m working overtime.” He deadpanned.

“Ho ho ho!” Lance exclaimed loudly, before leaning towards Varian and whispering “shut up Vari-elf.” 

Lance’s voice picked up as he exclaimed “we’ve traveled all the way from the North Pole, and the trip makes some elves a little unnecessarily grumpy! Which means they need even more holiday cheer to lighten their spirits! Go hit him with that candy cane, it will make him feel much better!”

Varian glared at the smug Santa as the child happily scrambled off his lap, picked up the plastic prop candy cane, and started whacking at Varian with all his tiny child strength. Lance Kringle, Kier-elf and Catalin-elf doing nothing but laughing as what little holiday joy Varian had was mercilessly smacked out of him by an elementary schooler.

🎅🏿🎅🏿🎅🏿🎅🏿🎅🏿

An hour, and many children later, Varian watched as another kid, an eight year old little girl with adorable Afro pigtails in hand-made flower clips, excitedly climbed up Lance’s lap. 

“Ho ho ho! And what might your name be little girl?” Lance said in his most jolly voice. Which was really just his regular voice. 

“I’m Annette Jones!” She happily exclaimed. Varian sighed as he flipped the page of his notebook and began to write.

“And have you been good this year?”

“Not really, but I tried!”

Varian snorted. He loved the honesty.

“Well as long as you tried, sometimes that’s all we can do! And what do you want for Christmas?”

The little girl pondered for a second, before answering with “I want a bed. I have to share one with my sister cuz we can’t afford two beds.”

Varian’s gaze softened, so did the other three pairs of eyes.

Lance was silent for just the briefest moment, which gave the little girl an opportunity to whisper in his ear. And due to Varian’s close proximity, he could hear every word.

“My sister is really little, and she still wets the bed, and people at school make fun of me for smelling like pee. But I’m not allowed to sleep on the floor.”

Varian felt his heart drop. He knew full well what it was like to be bullied, and what it was like to be bullied over things far outside your control. 

Lance dropped the Holly-Jolly act, and spoke earnestly “well then, a bed for Christmas it is. And is there anything else you may want? A book? A toy?”

The child beamed at the idea of receiving two gifts, which was a little heartbreaking to Varian. He readied his pen. 

“I want an alchemy kit! I wanna be an alchemist someday!”

Varian felt a small smile grace his face. He and Lance made eye contact, before Lance turned away and said “I’m sure my elves can put something together for you.”

Little Annette beamed, and thanked Santa and each of the elves with a quick hug, before running back to her tired-looking, but happy mother.

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁

After what felt like an eternity, but was likely simply forty minutes, the line started to dissipate. And at the end, stood Varian’s closest friend, and the bane of his existence.

“How’d it go?” Rapunzel chirped. “Have fun?” Eugene asked.

“It went well! We had a lot of fun!” Lance exclaimed, before Varian quickly followed up with “I want to be Krampus next year. Also, my ass is freezing.”

“Language, Varian. There are children nearby.” Eugene jokingly scolded.

Varian raised an eyebrow “do you know how many times I’ve been cussed out by my six year old neighbor?”

“Touché.” 

“We got a lot of kids. Like, a lot. This was more successful than I thought it’d be!” Lance said as he got up and proceeded to wipe off the general kid-yuck that had accumulated on his lap.

Rapunzel beamed “I’m so glad! Thank you guys for helping me put this together, and thank you girls, and Varian, for playing along!”

The girls gave their ‘of courses’ while Varian plucked Rudolph The Red Nosed Raccoon off his perch and made his way back to the castle, preparing for a warm evening with many blankets, hot cocoa, a book, and no Eugene or Lance.

“Oh, Varian! Can I have that notebook please?”

Varian stopped, puzzled, but still handed Rapunzel the brand-new leather notebook Eugene had given him for the occasion. (He was a little bummed, it was a really nice notebook, he had hoped he could use it after this was over. But alas.) 

The princess excitedly took the book handed to her and flipped through the pages. 

“Wow” She breathed “you’re right, this is a lot!”

Her boyfriend peered over her shoulder “damn, this is going to take forever to make!”

Varian stood there, confused, while Rapunzel excitedly flipped through the pages of requests. “Wait, what?”

The two looked up at him, amused. “You didn’t think we were gonna ask these kids what they wanted for Christmas and not give them presents?” Rapunzel asked. “Didn’t Eugene tell you? That was your community service assignment, help us make toys for these kids!”

“Wait, so pretending to be an elf wasn’t for my community service?”

“Uh, no, not really. But I guess it can count.” Rapunzel shrugged, confused and a little nervous.

Eugene, however, had the most shit-eating grin.

“You asshole!” 

Despite his smug demeanor, Eugene realized the danger he was in when the small alchemist ripped off his hat and pulled a brightly-colored alchemical bomb out of it. 

Eugene cursed, and booked it toward the castle, the angry teenager hot on his heels, jingling all the way.

Rapunzel sighed, and picked up Pascal-Prancer and began to clean up their little station alongside Max-Comet. Lance and the girls having already made their way to the treehouse.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

By the end of the day, Lance-Claus and his two beloved elves were in their treehouse, sipping hot chocolate and telling ghost stories.

A now blue-haired Eugene had been properly scolded and reprimanded for his technical abuse of power. Not by Quirin, or even the King and Queen, who thought the whole situation was hilarious; but by Rapunzel who was forced to choose a side between her boyfriend and her grumpy alchemist friend.

The three sat in front of the fire, nursing warm tea and watching as Varian’s elf costume burned, the buttons glistening as they melted. Eugene quietly snored as he drifted off to sleep on Varian’s shoulder.

Varian was snuggled in between the couple, with his raccoon draped across his neck. As much as he loved spending his free time with his father at home, there was something special about being in the castle on a cold evening, in front of an ornate fireplace and being cuddled by his closest friends.

He was more than happy to make some better memories here. As the holidays went on, the castle felt more and more like home. Unlike the prison it had become during his time as a Saporian Separatist. 

Varian quickly shoved that thought away, wanting to continue reveling in the blissful peace of the evening. 

“So, I probably should have asked you if you actually wanted to help with our project.” Rapunzel broke the silence softly, lifting her head up from Varian’s hair and looking at him. “I got excited when me and the guys came up with it, that I didn’t think that maybe you’d want to take the holidays off. I’m sorry, if you don’t want to do it I understand.” Her voice was sincere, and the firelight reflected off her kind eyes.

Varian appreciated the offer. The idea of spending the next few weeks at home with his dad, without having to worry about any important projects, just spending time doing as little as possible. A blissful, no-stress vacation, it was very appealing.

But then he thought back to Annette. The little girl who simply wanted a bed just so she wouldn’t be bullied, like he had been. The little girl who excitedly asked for an alchemy kit, like he had when he was her age.

He thought back to all the kids he had witnessed. Many of them had been from the orphanage, as they had intentionally placed themself near Corona’s only children’s home. And even more were from low-income backgrounds. In just a few hours, he had seen so many poor and unfortunate children light up at the prospect of receiving a gift, something they may not be able to dream about under normal circumstances.

He wanted to be able to help those kids. To give them the childhood they deserved. The childhood that had, in a way, been ripped away from him.

He didn’t like blissful, no-stress vacations anyway.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️

Christmas Morning came, and Annette was awoken by her three year old sister. The toddler excitedly made her way down the stairs, the older child following a little more hesitantly.

She had stopped believing in Santa at a young age. Her mother never had the finances to make her wishes come true, so it was an easy conclusion to come to. Santa wasn’t real. Or, at least, Santa was only real for the rich kids.

Meaning she knew that it wasn’t Santa Claus and his elves she had met that afternoon, it was the princesses friends.

Christmas still felt magical of course, she knew enough to know that gifts didn’t mean much when you had your family. But still, it stung just slightly, knowing that all she and her still naive and excited sister were going to get were very few cheap gifts, and barely a handful of candy in their stockings. 

Annette’s eyes widened as she made her way down the rickety steps, and saw presents lining the tree. Much more and much bigger than she ever expected.

Her little sister dashed to open one of the smaller boxes, as the young girl could only stare in wonder.

“Annette, baby, why don’t you open this one first?” Her young mother gestured to a large box wrapped in beautiful shining red paper, a white bow added to the side. A little tag on the side with a pretty cursive ‘from Santa.’

A few moments later, the box opened to reveal a wooden bed, the head frame depicting a beautifully painted mural of flowers, and the mattress already fitted with a sheet, two pillows, and a hand-knitted pink blanket. 

And in the middle of the bed was another box, with no wrapping, and a tag reading ‘from Santa’s Elf.’

Her eyes brightened as she opened the box and saw a large assortment of beakers and flasks, a small pair of goggles and gloves, and a small handwritten booklet detailing various scientific information, beginner-experiments, tips, and lab safety rules. Her own little alchemy kit.

Like for many other Coronan children this year, Christmas was just a little bit more magical for Annette.

[eclipseofthemoonsmood]

Hey VAT7K nation, so I write a lot of Tangled fanfics

So to start off, I'm known as DisneyReferenceQueen on Wattpad, and probably a very small percentage know me from my Corpse Bride AU book i wrote a couple years back, Till Death Do We Part. I just want to advertise my Varian Oneshot book here as well.

I don't really write xReaders for him anymore, but i'd love it if the fandom on here supported my works! I have 7 total Varian related fanfics published! 3 of which are finished, and 2 of which are ongoing/paused. But still have a few chapters already published nonetheless.

A few writing samples from my work!

" The blood red Saporian emblem was painted over every Coronian surface. Doors, old flags, walls and boxes.

The people of Saporia had taken over the Coronian empire. Villagers had assumed they had slain the royal family,  for no one knows what became of them. For years now, the kingdom had fallen into poverty and depression. The sky now grey and bleak, the smell of flowers and fresh air was replaced by dank and damp smelly air. The sounds of laughter and music were all but forgotten. Now, the only sounds heard were those of broken feet scraping the ground, chains clattering behind them. Ever since the Saporian takeover, they’d been executing any who had anything to do with the Coronian crown. This included assistants, royal guards, even some chamber maids.

A few dirty beaten villagers stood by the wooden gallows to watch the latest execution. A string of villagers slowly dragged their chains up the wooden steps, each creaking of the wood making their hearts beat harder, practically feeling the wisp breath of death on them." ^- Hoist The Colours, from my oneshot book!

" Then emerged, slowly, a tall dark haired boy in black skeleton like clothing, his ghostly white face made his acid blue eyes stand out against any darkness. His bony arms were crossed in an x over his chest as he emerged from the fountain. He grinned a charming buck toothed smile as he elegantly waved an arm over the crowed as they sang and chanted and cheered. 

The rag-doll like girl stood with the crowd, clasping her hands together as she celebrated along with everyone else.

The monsters and dead souls clapped at the performance. The Pumpkin Prince bowed as he stood on top of the statue in the fountain." - The Pumpkin Prince ( Nightmare Before Christmas AU, this is also one of the unfinished ones, just fyi! )

"But as he pulled open the door all the way and peeked through, he saw that his suspicions were true. No matter how absurd it was.

A woman with her back to the boy stirred a bowl as she hummed. She wore a teal dress and a light apron, her ginger hair swept up in a half crown braid over her haid, the rest of her fiery hair fell down her back.

It was her.

Varian’s eyes held confusion, sadness, and tears as they welled up. But he still managed to choke out her name. At least, what he had always called her.

“ Mom?” 

The woman immediately spun around, her dress moving gracefully.

“ Varian?” She smiled, her voice thick with emotion.

Varian’s face suddenly twisted with horror. It wasn’t the fact that she was in fact his mother, but something else.

Her eyes were black buttons. Straight sewn into the skin.

“ Darling, you’re just in time for supper.” She said happily. Her soothing voice was so welcoming. It almost made Varian forget about the buttons and run straight into her arms. But something was wrong. He couldn’t just forget the button eyes." - Mechanical Lullabies ( Coraline AU! Vat7k related! )

and lastly, my Corpse Bride AU that is a x reader, and completed! It's the most popular book i've written and i can't not put it on here, so here's a little excerpt-

"The h/c girl screamed as the hand pulled her arm into the soil with it. She frantically tried to tug her arm free. The crows all flew, cawing all around her. She tumbled as her arm finally came free from the grip. She gasped and screamed as she saw the bony arm still clinging on to her. She flung it off, her eyes wide with pure terror. She lay on the ground still as the small snowbank started thumping. 

Something was trying to get out.

The girl was frozen in sheer horror as slowly, a body rose from the cold earth. It was a teenage boy, his hair sheer black as night, one stripe of teal blue stuck out. He wore a ruined tux, the sleeves ripped and the shirt undone to his chest. His sharp features of his face were cold and struck terror in Y/n’s heart as he stared at her with wide unblinking ice blue eyes.

“ I do.” He whispered." - Till Death Do We Part ( which you can read, here! Please remember that this is a Tim Burtons Corpse Bride AU!! I've gotten many comments not realizing it despite it being in the title and in the description. ) Anyway, thank you if you made it this far, and i'd love it if you guys supported my work! I haven't posted anything in a long while, but who knows, maybe you guys can motivate me. :)

[nart-is-a-monster]

all these are a wip :b

and if you saw the gifs out of place is bc tumblr hates me and i had to re organize them like 3 times fjdshkjs

this one is a bit inspired in atlantis and neon Genesis evangelion just in some scenes.

Like these ones in evangelion to be exact and tha one from atlantis

And on this one, one inspiration was how characters on studio ghibli react or are animated when they get angry or fuzzy or something!

And as Hugo's chest is not that visible (and if I add the Chets that would mean animating a jacket and drawing the buttons and oughh) and so the way that hayao Miyazaki characters are animated were definitely an inspiration! And I want to do a camera angle change to make it look like is turning on the characters and so you can see the other guy on his side.

Like this one

I tried to search for references after doing the doodles so is just a little reference for later me too akjdksgkg

And this one is just him looking like a sad wet cat in the middle of a storm. For this one I have no inspirations or references, I just wanted to animate him blinking.

and

ok so

the one where hugo is smoking is supposed to go sort of like this

is kindda a modern au where varian meets hugo at a bar or a night club or something and he needs his help to get out of the country for... reasons (he accidentally killed his dad and is an enemy of the government) and now he needs the help of hugo to get new papers and get the hell outta there with no way for the investigators to find him, leaving no tracks behind!

and hugo is an expert in that, so after getting some favors set and done hugo helps varian a bit not expecting getting as invested in what varian is and what he has done and getting an inside conflict between, leaving varian and going back to his life, or follow him and see where the path takes them.

i might change some stuff abt that later tho, i began that animation with no plot in mind more other than imagining hugo blowing smoke into varian's face like an asshole.

And that's practically it!

Atm that is all I have

It ain't much but is honest work

This is for the ones who said to post the wips sjfjkskg

[pansy-picnics]

I really want to say this somewhere but honestly, my favorite part of Varigo is that it can really go both ways.

Like they have that soft fluffy thing going for them with that first love energy and it’s absolutely adorable in whatever it’s done with. And very believable.

But then they can also have this side where these two hate each other, but they want to MAKE OUT SO BAD IT HURTS TO WATCH. Like major enemies to lovers vibes and it’s very believable.

Maybe it’s just because Hugo technically never existed but any dynamic that any fanfic or art gives them just MAKES SENCE TO ME.

they are enemies AND lovers……... it is the funniest thing to me tbh i cannot see them being super lovey-dovey all the time after they get together, like its not that they AREN’T sickeningly in love, it’s just that they can flip between that and calling each other ugly whores within 5 seconds and they’re completely unfazed. as funny as it is i personally think it’s because at their core they are both kids who were forced to grow up too fast, and they bring out each others inner child in a way…. cuz like, their rivalry/hatred for each other has never been, in any way, Reasonable or Mature

hugo was suspicious when they met, sure, but i don’t think thats really why varian disliked him- i think that’s just the reason he used to justify it in his head. Really he just thought hugo was cool as fuck and he was really mad about being outshined on HIS coming of age quest. like. HE’S the main character bro. Who does this blonde bitch think he is. Goddamn. /j

and….Hugo was the same way lol. like despite his awful circumstances and all the angst going on in his head he only initially antagonized varian because he was a 19 year old boy and wanted to look cool and act like he knew everything. THEIR WHOLE RIVALRY WAS SO CHILDISH! AND THATS WHATS SO SPECIAL ABOUT IT I FEEL CUZ….NEITHER OF THEM HAVE EVER REALLY HAD THAT BEFORE.

ITS EXACTLY WHAT YOU SAID!! it’s that they’re each others first love…but they are also simultaneously each other’s first best friend and also each other’s first Enemy. Neither of them have REALLY done any of that before like ever. varian had friends but he’s never had friends HIS AGE, yk? its completely new for both of them, each for separate reasons, and because of that they are both acting like stupid fucking 12 year olds about it.

even after they get together i think the core of their dynamic is that….they were kind of each other’s (incredibly belated) childhood best friend. and they will always be best friends first and foremost Yk? they bring out each others inner child. it’s why even when they’ve been married for 40 years they tease each other like theyre two middle schoolers fighting on the school bus over pokemon cards. its why they always know exactly how to make the other laugh or cheer them up after a long day. they know EXACTLY how to push each others buttons but they also know when is too far, which is why they can just say the most vile things to each other without even hesitating because they KNOW they don’t gaf. They share one braincell together but they’re also both genius mad scientists so they COULD take over the world together if they wanted to but they’re too busy playing jenga with glass beakers in their pajamas at 2 pm. Idk. They need to be shot.

[nerdasaurus1200]

Varian: Check out my invention! I call it a motorized wagon!

Rapunzel: Oh, can I drive it?

Eugene: No let me!

Lance: What’s this button do?!

Varian: Ah ah ah, Sophie drives.

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Lance: Why?!

Varian: Because she’s least likely to hit something just for fun.

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Lance: True.

[fluff-a-nutter]

More squeaky selkie?

Real footage of varian and the reader without her pelt:

I gotchu fam <3

“Don’t look at me with those big, ol’ eyes, y/n. It’s time to go home.”

Varian said, growing increasingly exasperated with you.

He had thought as fun day at the beach would be a perfect official first date and it was….. until a certain selkie decided she did not want to leave the water.

Yes, he understood that it was basically your second home and, okay, you did look pretty damn cute, flipping around in your seal form, but it wasn’t like you could stay forever.

You chirped in protest, yipping at him to come closer.

With a sigh mixed with both exasperation and adoration Varian approached, crouching to your level.

“Are you ready to take off your pelt so we can go home, sweetheart?”

With a playful little growl you grabbed him in your flippers and dunked him underwater, shedding your pelt, and promptly making a run for it onto the warm sandy beach, giggling all the while.

Varian reappeared, your pelt in hand and spluttering on salty water and playful outrage.

“Oho, that’s it missy! You’re gonna get it now!”

He wasted no time in chasing you down, hot on your heels.

With a squeal, you felt his strong, sun warmed arms grab you from behind and you wriggled, unable to escape.

“Variiiii!! Let me go!” You pleaded, giving him your best seal pup eyes.

“No way, missy. You’re going to pay for that little stunt you just pulled!” Varian promptly began skittering his fingers across your sides, tummy, and belly button while simultaneously blowing raspberries and kisses against your neck.

You howled with laughter, sounding not unlike a seal barking, even now.

You had always been a bit self conscious about your laugh, but Varian always insisted that it was adorable.

“Aww, there’s my squeaky lil selkie!” Varian cooed, planting a trail of tickling kisses up your neck and to your cheek where he blew a giant raspberry, eliciting one of those adorable little squeaks.

“Varian, stahahahahaap! Not the tummy!”

Hearing your plea, Varian doubled down, his focus entirely on your soft, squishy, incredibly ticklish tummy.

“Hmm, I dunno, darling. Maybe if you apologize for dunking me underwater I’ll consider mercy.”

“You’re so mean!- Aaaaah! Wait, I’m sorry! Not the belly button! Anywhere but there! I’m sorry for dunking you, just stahahahap! Pleaheheheeease!”

Varian chuckles as he stops tickling your sensitive belly button and tummy before he kisses your cheek.

“Apology accepted, but don’t do it again, or else.” He punctuated the threat with a poke to your exposed belly button, causing you to squeak and hop back.

Laughing, Varian took your hand and kissed the back of it.

“I will never get tired of hearing you squeak. Now, let’s go home. Perhaps we can stop at the sweet shoppe for an ice cream.”

You smiled.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll race you!”

You took off like a shot, the sound of Varian’s laughter mingling with yours as the two of you raced down the streets of Corona.

[born-to-riot]

I Know What You Need

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 7 (Free Day)

Summary: Amren comes up with an unorthodox solution to one of Nesta's problems....and by unorthodox I mean Amren and Varian invite Nesta to share their bed for the night.

[This all was inspired by a message I sent @acourtofladydeath that said: I think there is a sore lack of vamren in the community and shall I fix that by having them invite a third? Shall it be Nesta? Shall Amren show her how to harness her potential by taking it out on a needy overstimulated Varian?]

Found on AO3

What I Want.

Chapter 1 of 2

Looking back, Nesta isn’t quite sure how she found herself in this situation. Well actually that’s a lie, she thinks.  Nesta shifts her weight to her other leg and releases a sigh as she tightens her bun for what feels like the umpteenth time. She has been standing outside the door of Amren’s apartament in Velaris for Cauldron knows how long, afraid to knock. 

In truth, Nesta knows exactly how she ended up accepting her mentor and friend’s shocking proposal. It does not necessarily erase the thin but ever-so-present shroud of guilt and mortification hovering about her. 

“You’re here for a reason.” Nesta quietly reminds herself, keeping her blue-gray eyes locked on the unopened door in front of her. 

In a thin, black  robe, Nesta Archeron stands tall. Made ornate by the roses and thorns sewn into the neck line, the silk clings tightly to her skin. Amren had asked–or actually she more so demanded–that Nesta arrive here tonight dressed minimally, so she had. As she, Amren, and Varian have all gone over several times prior to tonight, the scene will start as soon as the tiny fae opens the door. 

“It might help if I knock on it first.” Nesta murmurs to herself.

It's been six months since the end of the war with Hybern and to be honest, Nesta has not been in the best place with her mind, her friends, or with her power. She’s not even going to start on the whole weird connection she feels with Cassian. The male has been super frustrating as of late and honestly, all Nesta wants to do anytime he comes near her is punch him in the face. More pertinent to the present matter at hand, Nesta feels like she’s been swept into a world she wasn’t ready to understand and placed into a body that she doesn’t fully know. She wishes she could take this transition in stride like Feyre. Recently, even Elain is doing better than she is. But instead Nesta feels like she is shriveling down to a fragment of herself, cowering under the weight of the unknown, from the fear of what has already happened, and the terror of what is coming next. 

But alas, Amren has offered a possible solution, albeit an unorthodox one, to address some of her problems and Nesta would be foolish to deny this opportunity as not only it is much better than bedding random males every night, but also she is hopeful that she will be able to feel whole again after tonight. 

“Come on, Nesta,” she tells herself, “Still, she refuses to acknowledge that her hand is most definitely shaking as she slowly raises it in preparation to knock on the red-painted door that stands between her and something that she knows she will never be able to come back from. 

Nesta has to remind herself to keep breathing when the door swings open in front of her, her hand still raised in front of the now empty space. Not even a millisecond later, Amren appears in the doorframe, clad in sheer white oversized button down shirt, which–if Nesta wasn’t too busy attempting to stop her jaw from literally dropping at the mesmerizing sight of Amren’s elaborate lingerie set peaking through the frame provided by the unbuttoned shirt–she’d put her money on it being Varians. She doesn’t spend too much time pondering that thought, however, as Nesta is also currently trying to remedy the usual image of the harem-pants-wearing and fear-inducing tiny gremlin of a fae with the ethereal vision in front of her currently. 

Amren is intimidating enough on her own; however, the additional height of her thigh-high seven-inch platforms brings her just a couple inches shy of Nesta’s own height and the closeness of her ancient silver hues makes Nesta’s heart start racing even faster. As Amren clearly is taking her time in assessing Nesta, she takes her own time to try to decide if she wants to top or be topped by the little fae in front of her. 

Nesta isn’t reluctant to admit that she has not ever spent much time thinking about Amren’s breasts other than the fact that they were small. Now though, as she sees them held in an overbust mesh black steel boned corset, she can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like in her palms. Nesta also hasn’t given too much thought to women before in regards to the matter of sexual preference. In her defense, when she was still human she was mostly surrounded with women that were either related to her or were members of the blasted ‘children of the blessed’. She supposes she will have to be thankful that the whole ‘being dunked in a magical cauldron against her will by an egomaniac’ ordeal has allowed her to explore a wider avenue of carnal opportunities than she ever could have imagined. At that line of thought her traitorous brain and heart work together to form an image of a certain large red-siphoned Illyrian male and Nesta quickly shuts that down. Tonight is not about him, she reassures herself, it's about her. 

Fortunately, there is something about Amren’s ancient aura combined with her ‘wiser than thou’ attitude that Nesta finds infuriating but at the same time inexplicably attractive. Amren lets out a purposefully audible sigh, shifting her weight onto her other leg and placing her black fingerless glove covered arms on her hip–barely visible past the rolled-up sleeves of Varian’s shirt. Still, the movement draws Nesta’s attention to the many rings on her finger–unsurprising–and the tiny fae’s manicure, her nails filed to such sharp tips they appeared to be claws. Not only that, but the movement adjusts the oversized shirt she was wearing over her lingerie set and now Nesta can’t stop the thrum of interest that rises inside of her as her eyes lock onto the bare skin of Amren’s pussy, which is on display through her crotchless mesh and lace panty. 

“You’re late,” Amren’s voice shocks Nesta out of her self-induced stupor. She immediately lifts her gaze to meet the unimpressed one evident in the other’s charcoal-lined eyes. 

She opens her mouth to speak–to try and come up with some sort of explanation for herself–yet she finds she is unable to do anything other than audibly choke on an inhale. Nesta closes her mouth, frustrated with herself. She is smart, she is beautiful, she is the eldest of her sisters and she will be Cauldron-damned if she lets herself get flustered by Amren of all people. Nesta straightens her posture and goes to speak again, intending to say something stupid about how ‘You’re lucky I came at all’ just so she could feel more in control of the situation. However, she gets interrupted again, this time though not by her own volition, but instead at the silent raising of Amren’s hand in a ‘stop’ motion. She feels a rise of anger filling her, absolutely furious at the audacity of Amren to just hold her hand up and expect Nesta to stop speaking. How dare she? A voice hisses inside of her, one that Nesta is not too sure is entirely her own, yet she is too caught up in her inexplicable rage to care. 

“I don’t care for excuses, girl,” Amren interrupts her before Nesta even has a chance to voice her ire, rolling her eyes and stepping aside so that she can hold the door open– the action a clear invitation for Nesta to enter the premises. Nesta takes a deep breath, truly trying not to lose her cool at the elder for such a minor transgression and one that is just so quintessentially Amren. However, she nearly loses her composure again when her inner consciousness decides to remind her that ‘she does have a type.’ Nesta is fully aware that she apparently has a metaphorical hard-on for infuriatingly obnoxious assholes–the main culprit of this affliction being Cassian. However, usually, Amren is more of a smartass which keeps her away from the same category as the Ilyrian. Tonight, however, the ancient being seems to be cauldron-bent on trying to antagonize Nesta and for some forsaken reason the slight is turning her on.

Instead of falling victim to Amren’s goading, Nesta inhales the Velaris air one more time before taking a step past the threshold into Amren’s apartment. Upon her exhale, she finds herself in the same lackluster entryway she’s found herself in many times before. Amren, at least given what Nesta has observed so far in the time she’s known her, seems to prefer to save her decor for the deeper areas of the apartment–if she were to wager a guess, Nesta presumes the ancient creature would rather keep her jewels and valuables protected and hidden in contrast to Rhys and Feyre who display their wealth like a peacock does its feathers. Though, she supposes that is their right as the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. Nevertheless, Nesta still takes the time to let her eyes trail across her immediate surroundings. She recognizes the same little alcove to her left that has two emerald green club chairs on either side of a small end table as well as the rest of the entryway, the area being sparse apart from another closed door and a painting of some books. Despite the fact that she’s seen this all before, Nesta feels the hairs on her arms start to raise as her gaze finally lands on the empty hallway in front of her; she wonders if the chill in the air is a foretaste of what is to come of tonight. 

Before she has a chance to determine what side of the scale the omen leans toward, the sound of the door slamming behind her shocks Nesta back into the moment. She whips around to face Amren, who is leaning with her back against the now-shut front door, smirking up at her. While she internally reprimands her subconscious for allowing her to show her back to such a dangerous creature, Nesta would also be lying if she says she did not feel a sense of satisfaction curl within her once she realizes that even with Amren’s heels, Nesta is still taller than her. Of course, this satisfaction doesn’t last, the second Amren lets her grin fall off her face and takes a step forward, Nesta feels as if a veil has lifted from her view, revealing the ethereal being in front of her. Everyone in Prythian knows that Amren is an otherworldly creature, full of knowledge and power. Nesta regrets to think that she thought Amren would somehow become less than she once was after she lost her power in the Cauldron all those months ago. 

“This is your last chance to back out girl,” Amren says seriously, pure silver locked on gray blue, gazing into her eyes so directly Nesta almost feels as if Amren is able to see through her. Nesta is still trying to take in the sight of Amren’s silky black hair framing her sharp jaw-line, her small but supple tits barely visible but clearly evident, her tiny waist and lean muscle both obvious through the mesh and fit of her corset, the color a great contrast against her tanned skin. However, as Nesta eyes Amren’s freshly shaven cunt–the pattern of the lace on her crotchless panties perfectly framing her vulva–she feels her temperature rise with a combination of both desire and ire. Nesta doesn’t give a shit if Amren currently looks like some sort of goddess, how dare she question her surety.

“I know what I want,” Nesta narrows her eyes into a glare and straightens her posture, refusing to look away from Amren’s unusually sober stare. She understands that Amren is just concerned, but she wishes everyone would stop being so careful around her. She used to be able to rely on Amren to be the only one in her sister’s stupid fucking Inner Circle who was willing to be up-front with her.   

“It's not a question of what you want, this is a matter of what you need, girl,” Amren stalks closer to her, her eyes somehow still bright and predatory despite the dimness of the room. 

“There is nothing weak about having second thoughts,” she purrs, starting to circle around Nesta as she comes even closer, like a predator and its prey. 

“Amren,” she snaps, frustratedly, tired of her friend’s game. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t want to be, Nesta bemoans the fact that it seems like the tiny fae truly derives some sick sense of pleasure from making everything ten times more difficult than it needs to be. 

“Patience child,” she shivers at the sound of Amren’s tongue clicking right behind her, the ancient one’s voice sounding displeased. Before Nesta can even process why the disappointment in Amren’s tone causes her heart to jolt, the press of two dangerously sharp nail tips against the back of her neck pause all of her racing thoughts. She fights the urge to flinch as the nails start to slowly drag down the remainder of her exposed spine, pressing into each vertebrae it passes.

“Don’t make a mistake. Just because I allow you to play a dominant role tonight,” the female hisses, her breath warm against Nesta’s ear, the two dangerously sharp tips of Amren’s nails focusing on the vertebrae that sits right above the collar of Nesta’s robe, she continues, “doesn’t mean I’m not still willing to put you in your place.”

The words send a shiver of delight through Nesta, the tickle of Amren’s breath against her ear sends tendrils of electricity that spread throughout her whole body. She can feel the tingles reverberate in her chest and down her arms, until they land, pooling in her breasts. Nesta’s breath hitches and she  as the indent of Amren’s nails start to shift, her nipples hardening at the drag of the claw-like sensation against the side of her throat. She doesn’t even realize that her eyes are closed until Amren releases the grip on her neck, Nesta opening her eyes to find the other in front of her with a distinctly pleased grin painting her sharp faerie features. 

“Understand?” Amren asks expectantly, slowly moving her jewel covered hand to the flimsy piece of string that is holding Nesta’s robe together, causing the more modest of the two to blush. Nesta feels a piece of her strange newly awakened inner soul start to fight at the idea of conceding to anyone. However, she notes the tantalizingly slow speed of Amren’s outstretched hand and appreciates the fact that she is purposefully giving her plenty of opportunity to reject the advance if Nesta was to wish it so. 

“Hmm?” Amren urges Nesta gently to respond, pausing her hand once it reaches its destination, tangling itself loosely in the string. As Nesta eyes Amren, she can’t help but think that this is probably the most considerate Amren will ever be of her wishes. Still, she looks at the hunger evident in Amren’s eyes, thinks about the heat filling her own body, and she knows she can’t put this off any longer. She thinks over the last couple months of angst and seclusion, about how she can barely stand to look at herself in the mirror, the flames in her eyes not feeling like her own.  It’s time she takes the next step for herself. Nesta knows what she wants–no, she knows what she needs to do now. 

“Yes Mistress, I understand,” Nesta replies, inclining her head as a sign of acceptance of Amren’s authority.

“Good girl” Nesta doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that the older’s praise gives her such a clear sense of security. However, it seems she doesn’t have much time to ponder on it further. With one swift movement Amren has rid Nesta’s robe of the tie keeping it together, the fabric falling open to reveal her bare skin underneath. 

“What a treat,” a devilish smirk plasters itself onto Amren’s face as the female eyes her up and down. She has to admit that this, revealing her naked body to her friend, is one of the parts of tonight that she has been most nervous for. Now though, Nesta can only find it in herself to feel pleased as she watches Amren hungrily take in her bare body, her unyielding silver stare seeming to pause on her ample breasts and what’s visible of her cunt. 

“You look absolutely delightful, he won’t be able to control himself,” Amren notes before turning on her heel and heading down the long hallway. Nesta is flattered and somewhat surprised that Amren said so– assuming the ‘he’ in question is Varian– Nesta’s body being a much different build than Amren’s. Nesta has been so caught up in Amren she almost is sorry to say that she might have forgotten about Varian, which is insane because Amren is quite literally letting Nesta fuck her boyfriend to help her feel normal in this new body of hers and to help her gain control of the great power that has been set loose inside her. 

“Come on, girl,” Nesta will admit she barely registers the words that are coming out of Amren’s mouth, her eyes a little busy admiring the other’s well-defined ass. She supposes it makes sense, Amren is strong not only due to her position as Rhysand’s Second in Command, but also just through reputation alone. It would make sense that Amren’s glutes would reflect such strength, which Nesta once again feels bad for presuming that someone so small wouldn’t be able to have a wonderful ass. 

“I won’t be happy if I have to repeat myself,” Amren notes, turning back to look at Nesta over her shoulder, raising a brow. Nesta quickly launches herself into motion, following the other female. As Amren comes to stop in front of one of the doors further down the way, Nesta wonders what lies behind it.

“Let the festivities begin,” Amren quips, opening the door in front of her and stepping inside. Nesta gulps as she follows behind her, not having a chance to see anything other than a dark room and the white of the shirt on Amren’s back before the other motions to her in a request to close the door behind her. Nesta turns quickly then, somehow hoping that the faster she moves the more it will lessen her nerves. As soon as she closes the door she notes that the lighting in the room dims significantly. She takes a second to inhale and exhale, clearing her mind of all of her worries, before finally deciding that she is truly ready to begin..

“What now?” Nesta asks, turning around in search of Amren. 

“Strip” Amren orders, taking the moment to also shed herself of the oversized shirt she had been wearing over her lingerie. 

Nesta takes a moment to assess her surroundings, noting that they seem to be in a walk-in closet. The only light in the room is provided by the flames of various candles throughout the many presumably empty shelves in the room, Nesta admits she hasn’t given the shelves too much attention as she is much more interested in the main focus of the room: a large ostentatious full length mirror. The mirror is absolutely gorgeous and is framed by two hanging lanterns so that whoever stands in front of it will be able to see themselves in lovely detail. So much detail that Nesta finds her nerves creeping up on her again, but she looks at Amren–waiting patiently next to the mirror for her– and slips the sleeves of her robe off her shoulders. The already-opened garment easily slides down the rest of her body and gathers in a puddle at her feet.

“Good girl,” Amren purrs, “now come over here and stand in front of this mirror for me, yeah?”

Nesta nods, trying to keep her eyes on Amren female instead of looking back at her own reflection. The air in the room chills against her now bare skin, Nesta feels the hair on her arms stand as she lessens the distance between herself and her destination. Although, as Nesta takes another step, she realizes that she is not exactly sure if the goosebumps are solely due to the cold. 

“Tell me what you see, girl,” Amren orders her, Nesta finally arriving at a standstill. She hesitates to adhere to the ancient one’s wishes, biting her lip and taking note of the fact that she finds some form of comfort in the familiar face of her friend. It is not like she is a virgin. Nesta is guilty of having taken many random fae males back to her apartment over the course of the past six months. Despite the frequency of the occurrences, Nesta finds it hard to remember anything apart from going through the expected motions. She brings the male of choice to her bed, they fuck, the male goes home, and once again she is left feeling trapped in some suspension of reality–stuck in a time that is between the past and the present, no hope for a future. 

But tonight, in this moment, in this closet, there is no denying the vulnerability that seeps through her every pore. In the candlelight Amren’s silver eyes look radiant, luminous like they were before she sacrificed herself, her power, for them all. Nesta is as guilty as the rest of the inner circle in that they all are waiting for the moment Amren breaks, that she lashes out at one of the others in jealousy, that she can’t take it anymore. But now, Amren stands in front of her more alluring than Nesta has ever found her before. The tiny fae is still leaning against the mirror frame, waiting patiently for Nesta to follow her orders. Nesta looks her up and down, once again admiring Amrens' lingerie–the combination of her heels, corset, fingerless gloves, and crotchless lace mesh panties all working well together to bring attention to her toned legs. Nesta finds herself overcome with jealousy too, that Amren could walk around her own house showing off her cunt so freely. However, she does appreciate Amren’s uncharacteristic show of patience and so Nesta nods at the elder before adhering to her wishes. She turns slightly to face herself in the mirror.

“I see myself,” Nesta answers the question without a thought. She spies Amren frowning at her response from the corner of her eye and Nesta struggles not to do the same. Respecting the process is hard when the process is asking her what she sees in a mirror, what the fuck else is she supposed to see other than her reflection? 

“Try again,” Amren says, clearly displeased. This time, Nesta doesn’t bother to hide her frown. She doesn’t know why she's trying to be polite when she’s here naked in front of Amren. Still, she swallows as she takes note of Amren’s figure entering the mirror’s field of vision, the ancient creature clearly assessing her.

“I don’t know its a fucking mirror, Amren, what else am I supposed to see?” Nesta snaps. She has never been one to hold herself back before, she doesn’t know why she should stop now. Maybe if Nesta demands some answers from Amren, then their night can get started faster.

“I will give you one warning to keep your temper in check, girl,” Amren hisses, the flickering candlelight bouncing off her naturally tanned skin as she approaches Nesta, her figure becoming larger as she gets closer to Nesta. 

“You know what you signed up for, I don’t like brats,” Amren comes to a stop just slightly behind her, Nesta is able to see her claw-like nails rhythmically tapping impatiently upon her cocked hip.

Nesta closes her eyes with a sigh. She does know what she signed up for, and if anyone knows how to deal with being shoved inside a different form it's Amren. She inhales and tries to clear her mind of all her inhibitions, she knows that in order for this to work she needs to step into it fully rather than keeping one metaphorical foot out the door. Nesta opens her eyes, looking straight into their gray-blue reflection as she decides she’s ready to try again. 

“I see…” Nesta trails off, her throat suddenly dry as the mirror confronts her with a bare body, the body that she knows is supposed to belong to her, the body that looks almost the same as it always has, the body that no longer feels like her own. A stranger.

“You see…?” Amren urges her to continue. The heat radiating from her breath tickles against Nesta’s ear, causing her nipples to tingle slightly. She pushes that thought aside though because she remembers Amren has asked her a question..

“I see….myself?” she replies less sure than before, watching her own shoulders hike up in the mirror, noting that her breasts bounce slightly with the motion. Despite the fact that she utters the same response as before, anyone who has two eyes and two working ears would be able to tell that Nesta’s tone is completely different than it was before. She stares at her reflection in the mirror. 

Nesta knows this body, she recognizes her fair skin, she recognizes her golden-brown hair–still tied up in a bun, and she recognizes her sharp jawline. Her ears are definitely different but oddly enough it doesn’t bother her, she supposes it suits her face and she still has her same long neck. As she lets her eyes trail down her reflection further she can see her arms are more toned than before. Her breasts are a tad bit bigger than when she was human too–which she chalks up to the amazing food in Prythian. In her opinion, there is nothing particularly remarkable about her stomach or legs, they are the same size and length as before. Nesta is familiar with this body, so she doesn’t know why she feels so out of place in front of this mirror.

Nesta can’t help but let her eyes focus on her least favorite part of herself: her cunt. It's not like she’s had a lot of others to compare hers to before, but she has always felt like hers was rather ugly. Nesta lets her eyes glance slightly to the right to take a peek at Amren’s cunt where it's peeking through her crotchless panties in the mirror. The ancient fae’s pussy was free of all pubic hair, her vulva looking smooth. Based on the fact that Nesta doesn’t see any signs of Amren's inner labia, she assumes that Amren is one of those lucky bitches with shorter ones. Nesta glances back to her own, her own pubic region is covered in hair in addition to her inner labia hanging down to where they are visible in her reflection. 

“Good enough,” Amren, thankfully, interrupts her negative spiral of thoughts. Nesta is also grateful that Amren accepts her answer, probably able to sense the change in Nesta’s energy. 

“On your knees!” Nesta didn’t even notice Amren move before she felt a distinct boot-like pressure on the backs of her knees, causing them to buckle. Before she even has a chance to be upset about this turn of events, she feels Amren’s hand grip the back of her neck, focusing Nesta’s attention back on both of their reflections in the mirror.

“First, we’re taking care of this pesky bun,” Nesta gasps as Amren roughly snaps the hairband she was using, yanking it out of her hair. Nesta can’t even appreciate the tickle of her golden-brown hair falling upon her shoulders, she gasps out a moan as Amren adjusts her grip to include the back of her hair, yanking it back roughly.

“Then,” she uses one of her nails to bring Nesta’s head up to face her. From this position, Nesta has a really good perspective of Amren's vulva, her dark inner labia symmetrically framed by the beautiful lace of her panties. She guesses she understands now why Amren and Varian spend so much of their time in the bedroom, if Nesta had a partner who looked like that she wouldn’t be able to stay off of them. 

“Listen to me,” Amren continues to speak, adding pressure to her grip on the back of Nesta’s neck, moving the other hand–finger still on her jaw–down to rest upon the column of her now exposed throat, “you are never going to get over this malaise of yours if you don’t acknowledge that you are more now.”

Nesta isn’t exactly sure how she’s supposed to be paying attention to anything other than the feel of Amren’s finger, the sharp edge now tracing down the line of her throat–now that Nesta can actually feel the edges of Amren’s nails, she knows that if Amren wanted she could slice through the skin of her neck with one flick of her finger. Still, Nesta tries to ignore the trail of electricity that seems to be shooting out of wherever her skin makes contact with Amren’s and instead tries to focus on the conversation that she is supposed to be participating in.

“No, I know…,” Nesta starts, the sudden absence of Amren’s grip startles her, “I know-”, she tries to continue, tracking Amren’s reflection in the mirror, the tiny fae keeping her one finger anchored in its position on Nesta’s neck while swerving behind her so that she is now standing behind Nesta’s left side. “I know that I’m… different,” Nesta finishes, trying not to flinch away from the sudden softness of Amren’s knuckle circling the area of skin around the indentation left behind by the sharp edge of her nail. 

“Different isn’t the same as bad, child,” Nesta doesn’t know why the use of the term ‘child’ suddenly bothers her, Amren is so old that it makes perfect sense why she would view all their friends as such. Yet, for some reason, the term strikes an odd cord within her, leaving behind a slight residue of ire. She doesn’t think she is in the place to complain about it now, though. Especially as she both witnesses Amren’s reflection and feels the fae move behind her, now straddling her left calf and hooking her chin over the back of Nesta’s shoulder. Her nipples harden immediately, the combination of Amren’s breath ghosting over her shoulder—breezing past the side of her neck—and of the warmth against her completely nude back transforms Nesta’s body into an oversensitive vessel. 

“I remember when I first saw you, and these,” Amren starts, her arms reaching out from behind Nesta, her tanned hands—peeking out from fingerless gloves—now taking a hold of Nesta’s breasts, “these for sure are different.”

Nesta bites back a moan as she makes eye contact with Amren through the mirror, the other fae having an almost feral grin on her face as she begins massaging Nesta’s breasts. Despite the fact that Amren’s hands are small—not able to encompass the entirety of Nesta’s rather large breasts—she makes up for it with her vigor. Amren starts rolling Nesta’s nipples between her index finger and thumb in combination with the rhythmic pressing of her other fingers, each one making contact with a pressure point Nesta didn’t even know was there.. 

“Mhmm” Nesta moans a response, unable to hold back the effect of the pleasure arising from Amren’s kneading. It feels like there is fire inside her, each roll of Amren’s fingers on her nipples causes a ripple like sensation shooting straight to her cunt, leaving a pathway of sensitivity leading straight to her steadily heating core.

“And this,” Amren says lowly, nibbling at Nesta’s left ear as she releases her grip on her right breast. Both silver and gray-blue eyes track Amren’s hand through the mirror–watching as it disappears behind Nesta’s back briefly. 

Nesta loses track of the room around her as she feels two of the pads of Amren’s fingers press ever-so-lightly against her spine between her shoulder-blades. This teasingly light touch combines with a particularly well timed squeeze of her left breast, triggering another round of the spark-like sensation inside her. Nesta tilts her head back to the right almost subconsciously, her body submitting to Amren and readily exposing her neck. She ignores the inner rage that emerges from that same deep  place as before, especially when she feels Amren’s fingers start to trail their teasingly-light touch down her spine–the fae seemingly enjoying the feel of the dips and ridges between her vertebrae as she makes her way down. 

“This is your greatest error,” Amren ghosts the words over the exposed skin of her neck, Nesta shivers at the sensation. 

“What is?” Nesta asks, she internally curses her ancient friend’s inability to refrain from sounding cryptic whenever she speaks.

“This,” Amren repeats, immediately releasing her other breast. Nesta is too confused to register the jiggle of her tit as it settles back into its place on her chest. ‘This’ still isn’t an answer, Nesta thinks. Thankfully though, she isn’t too far caught up into the ‘enigma that is Amren’ to miss the fact that Amren’s right hand is currently resting on her ass, the palm of her left hand–the one that has just released her breast–now pressing on the region of skin just above her pelvic bone. 

“How dare you deny this cunt as your own,” Amren demands. Nesta gasps as Amren moves her hand that is resting on Nesta’s ass down to cup her vulva from behind, igniting a whole new round of heat inside of her. Nesta can feel Amren’s fingers tangling themselves in her pubic hair, she can see the tips of Amren’s nails in the reflection from the mirror. 

“I-I didn’t tell you that,” Nesta stutters, the heat of Amren’s hand below making it difficult for Nesta to retrieve her thoughts, her clit throbs in anticipation and she can feel the distinct sensation of wetness starting to build up inside of her.  

“I know,” Amren smirks, Nesta making eye contact with her reflection, “But you poured your soul out into this mirror, girl. I can tell, that’s why I know exactly what I need to do to fix you.”

Nesta can’t even begin to try to wrap her head around that sentence; as soon as Nesta opens her mouth Amren presses her palm harder into Nesta’s front, causing a loud moan to escape her lips instead of whatever it was she intended to say as the added pressure discharges quivers of pleasure straight to her clit. Nesta is beginning to get the feeling that Amren enjoys making her speechless. 

“And w-what’s that?” she manages to ask, truly desperate to know how Amren is going to fix Nesta’s fractured soul.

“How about you stop asking questions so that I can show you,” Amren replies instead of answering, Nesta pauses, noting that this is the first time tonight that Amren has sounded anything close to borderline impatient. Amren relaxes the pressure on Nesta’s front, seemingly waiting for the younger to respond before she continues. 

Nesta quickly pushes aside the massive amounts of lust that are coursing through her body at the moment and instead makes eye contact with Amren again through their reflections. 

“Yes Mistress, I apologize,” Nesta says dutifully, only feeling slightly bad that she irritated Amren. Still, she knows she made the right move as Nesta spies Amren’s shoulders relaxing as she rehooks her chin over Nesta’s left shoulder.

“Good girl,” she praises. Nesta watches Amren’s eyes flash before she starts moving her left hand up and down Nesta’s stomach. Nesta can do nothing but swallow as Amren starts to move her right hand. 

“Now, are you seriously trying to tell me that these don’t belong to you?” Amren hisses. Nesta jolts as she feels Amren grip the lips of her inner labia, slowly rolling them between her fingers.

“These are nice, full, begging for attention, why do you hate them?”

“I don’t-” Nesta tries to start.

“Don’t lie to me,” Amren cuts her off, igniting another distant unfamiliar rage inside Nesta, one that she does not completely understand. As it seems to keep happening tonight, Amren doesn’t give her a chance to respond as Amren places a particularly strong tug on her inner labia, pulling the lips down before releasing them, the sound of Nesta’s wetness subsequently echoing in the quiet tiny room.

Amren forms two of her fingers into a V, pressing them just outside the area surrounding her clit before she starts massaging the area in a circular motion.

“Fuck.” Nesta whimpers, Amren’s teasing is absolutely agonizing. Nesta’s clit throbs, with the other’s fingers so close, it can’t help but send pulses of need throughout Nesta’s body in time with each move of Amren’s fingers around it. 

“I need you to understand that this power of yours is not something you should be afraid of,” Amren stops the circular motions and instead presses two fingers directly onto her clit through its hood. Nesta swears the pleasure is so intense, it feels as if a fire is rising inside of her. The base of it originates from her core, the smoke rising up to keep the rest of her upper body warm too.  

“It wants to work with you,” Amren lets out a gasp as she starts to grind her own pussy down on Nesta’s leg which she has been stradling this whole time. Nesta bites her lip as she feels the moist beginnings of Amren’s own juices impressing upon her calf. The fingers of Amren’s right hand aren't moving, instead they keep a constant thread of pressure on her clit. Nesta’s poor clit, she can tell it’s desperate for attention, it sends constant pulses as if it is asking her to move to give it some sort of relief from all the stimulation Amren is providing.

Nesta watches Amren through the mirror. She can both see and feel Amren’s right hand splaying out across her stomach, using it for balance as she grinds against her calf and uses her other hand to attend to Nesta’s cunt. Despite the impressive multitasking that Amren already has going on, Nesta notices Amren’s assessing silver gaze is locked on her own, as if Amren is waiting for her to realize something. 

What though? Nesta wants to ask, but she refrains because she knows Amren won’t take it well. But how the fuck is she supposed to know what Amren wants? Amren is older than Prythian itself and Nesta has been High Fae for less than a year. All Nesta knows is that she is more turned on than she has ever been in her entire life, sitting completely in the nude between a mirror and the scantily dressed body of one of the people she feels the most comfortable around lately–which in itself is saying something as it is Amren she is talking about. 

“Look inside yourself,” Amren says as she slows the pace of her gyrations, “can’t you feel that you’re not alone?”

Nesta lets out another moan, closing her eyes as Amren starts driving the fingers that have been fixed on Nesta’s clit around, dragging her clit into a circular path. This, of course, causes Nesta’s hips to jerk into the motion, chasing after the pleasure. She also tries to decipher what exactly Amren means with her statement that ‘she’s not alone.’

It is quite hard to do so though when she feels like there’s a sweltering heat inside her body, begging for escape. Nesta has been horny before, she knows what it feels like. Cauldron knows that she has been a victim of it tonight. Fortunately, thanks to the overstimulation that Amren is so happily providing, Nesta is able to take a deeper look at what’s going on inside of her. 

Nesta closes her eyes, trying to center herself past the pleasure that’s overwhelming her senses. As she inhales, she ignores the rocking of Amren’s pussy back and forth on her calf, she ignores the sting of her painfully hard nipples, she ignores the rhythmic squelching coming from her own pussy as Amren’s hand keeps her lips in motion and pressure on her clit, Nesta ignores it all. As she channels into her soul, deep inside her, Nesta realizes that Amren is right, once again, she is clearly not alone. 

It’s a hard thing to describe, a soul. Nesta certainly isn’t expecting to find hers feeling like it's coated in some sort of substance similar to live-wire. It definitely seems to be working in overload–constricted behind some sort of mental block–the area around it seems electrically charged. She tries to paint a mental picture of it, of this charged substance locked deep inside her persona. Nesta thinks it could best be described as a worn steel cage that just barely contains a ball of pure energy. For some reason, Nesta’s gets a sudden feeling if something other than her tries to reach out for it, this hidden piece of her soul, fire would lash out through the holes in the cage, almost like an intentional solar flare. She mentally reaches towards it, trying to catch a read of it–and inwardly gasps as she realizes she recognizes it. 

“By the Cauldron,” Nesta gasps, coming back to the present with a jolt, the shock of her realization causing her to sit back on her calves–a space in which she notices Amren is no longer occupying–not being able to kneel properly any longer. She’s definitely sweating, she can feel its sheen gathering upon every inch of her body.

As she struggles to catch her breath, Nesta remembers something that Amren had said when she first was explaining the benefits of this whole ordeal to Nesta.

“Every being in this world has the potential for magic, child. Even some humans if they so chose to tap into that part of themselves. Its residue lies along the lines of the needs that unite all living creatures in all the worlds–eat, sleep, fuck. Your walls have been built too high, girl. It’s time we break them down.”

“Don’t you see now?” Nesta snaps her attention towards Amren, the female now standing, pressing her weight against the side of the mirror–one heeled boot crossed over the other–and inspecting the nails of her right hand, the one which had just been intimately involved with Nesta’s folds. 

Nesta decides to ignore the fact that she has no idea when Amren even left her prior position behind her. She’s so close to understanding what’s going on with her, she can taste it. She doesn’t even care that Amren stopped touching her right before she would have most definitely orgasmed–well, she does a little… a lot, but gaining control of herself and her power is much more important, she reminds herself.

“It’s my magic…” Nesta breathes, moving her hands to the floor behind her to support her weight. 

“It’s my…” Nesta trails off, noticing her own flushed appearance in the mirror.

“Yes,” Amren answers, redirecting Nesta’s attention back towards her, “it’s You, girl.”

This time, Nesta’s ire in response to Amren’s addressment of her is much more palpable, she can feel it crawling under her skin. How dare she, her inner voice speaks, louder than ever before.

“And Nesta,” Amren calls and Nesta turns her attention back towards her immediately, shock coloring her cheeks further. She can count the times that Amren has used her actual name on one hand. 

“Yes?” she asks before she has a chance to take the vision of her in, heart freezing as she registers what Amren is actually doing. 

Amren, still radiant in her lingerie, isn’t even looking at Nesta. Instead, she has her eyes closed, head tilted back against the edge of the mirror frame, and is actively humming. Nesta can do nothing but watch as Amren lifts her index and middle fingers–the ones belonging to the hand that the female had been inspecting previously–and brings it to her plump red lips.

Amren opens her eyes then, and Nesta once again finds herself trapped in the other’s primordial gaze. Amren moans again as she pushes them past her lips, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks on the digits before pulling them out–the action releasing a wet popping sound that seems very loud in the tiny room, the only other sound being Nesta’s increasingly rapid breathing.

“It tastes good,” Amren replies simply, as if she didn’t just do one of the sexiest things Nesta has ever witnessed, “you, taste good.”

“I’ll be right back,” Amren says, disappearing behind the mirror–the one that is so large that Nesta didn’t even know the closet extended further behind it until just now. She doesn’t really care about her abrupt departure though, not when Amren’s words have just launched her into what feels like a state of estrus. 

There is a new wave of boiling heat inside of her. Nesta knows that this heat is different, it almost stings yet it is somehow still satisfying, it’s comforting, and it vibrates against seemingly every possible organ inside her body. She can do nothing but gasp as she feels her magic finally free itself from its steel trap. This power, her power feels just right inside her veins, like her heart needs it just as much as it needs oxygen. 

It’s about time, the magic chides her, and Nesta is overcome by feelings of regret. How could she have denied this part of herself for so long. She understands why Amren was so insistent upon helping her now, why she had been so disappointed in her. Nesta clutches her breast to try to ground herself as she feels her soul reuniting with her heart underneath the skin. 

Of course though, the serene moment is broken by Amren who throws a pile of clothes at her face, breaking Nesta from her trance. This time, Nesta is ready to snap at Amren, in sync with her newly awakened power. 

“Now stand up!” Amren orders. Nesta tries not to let her temper get the best of her as she slowly rises, still able to feel the other’s wetness from where it leaked against her calf. Amren speaks again before Nesta actually has a chance to rip her head off, though.

“Put this on, this is taking a little longer than I was initially anticipating,” Amren says before she promptly disappears behind the mirror yet again. Nesta’s inner irritation quickly dims as she notes a slight tinge of concern dimming Amren’s usually confident eyes. Nesta remembers then, she and Amren are not the only two participants of tonight’s activities. Where exactly is Varian? Nesta wants to find out.

She quickly puts on the clothes that Amren picks out for her and slips her feet into an expensive looking pair of black stilettos. As she starts to turn around so that she can get a good look at herself in the mirror, Nesta can’t help but ponder about how the hell Amren knows her shoe size. She assumes the tiny fae must have bullied Azriel or someone into finding out the correct size instead of just asking Nesta outright, which actually sounds like a very ‘Amren-type-thing’ to do now that she thinks about it.

Nesta’s jaw drops as she comes face-to-face with her reflection. Amren has dressed her in a black wet-look teddy which features a low cut open bust, a criss cross neck, gold zip up front, cut out sides, criss cross back straps with O-ring details, a tie back, and a cheeky cut bottom. The way the teddy sits on her emphasizes all her curves in the best way possible, Nesta thinks as she raises her arms to adjust her hair. There is no hiding the monstrous size of her breasts with this low cut open bust. There is a perfect path of bare skin that travels from between her tits down to the visible zipper of the front. Fuck, Nesta thinks as she shifts slightly to see the back of the teddy, she looks delicious. The realization causes the already blistering temperature inside of her to somehow elevate even more. 

“If you’re finished getting dressed, come back here!” she hears Amren call from behind the mirror. With the added height provided by Nesta’s heels, she is sure that the size difference between the two females will return to the usual. Still, Amren’s presence is so strong and foreboding–especially tonight–that Nesta would rather die than point this out to her friend. Still, Nesta follows Amren’s order without question and feels a gasp escape her lips as she steps past the edge of the frame which Amren has been hanging around all night. 

“Oh my,” Nesta can’t help but say as she takes another step into the hidden part of the closet that she and Amren have been spending so much time in this evening. Lining each and every single shelf in front of her is the widest variety of sex toys that Nesta has ever seen. She always suspected that Amren was a hoarder, however, when she first formed that suspicion Nesta was thinking more along the lines of jewelry. She is not entirely sure what she should make of the display of dildos, paddles, chains, straps, vibrators, and plenty more in front of her. 

“Wha-How long have you been collecting all of this?” Nesta asks, unable to stop herself. She turns towards Armen who has been waiting for her, leaning against the only wall in this little hidden area without any shelfs occupying it.

“I’ve been alive a long time,” Amren replies, mirth filling her gaze. Nesta considers that to be a fair response.

“Anyway,” Amren starts, pushing herself off of the wall and strutting forward until she stops right in front of Nesta, “pick what calls to you, girl.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta asks for clarity while trying to keep her inner beast in-check. Nesta doesn’t even know where to begin. However, she remembers that this isn’t her first time racking her mind to try to find something that Amren has told her to, Nesta thinks back to when she was trying to feel out the location of the Ouroboros. She also ignores the utter ridiculousness of Amren’s request, does she really want Nesta to tap into this great power of hers just to find the perfect sex toy? One thing she has learned throughout her relatively short time being friends with Amren is that the other female always has her reasons. Nesta supposes she will try to do as she’s asked.

“It’s quite simple. Your magic is awake now, let it guide you,” Amren coos before brushing past Nesta, purposely bumping into her shoulder as she passes by. 

“You look great in that by the way.” Nesta jolts as a quick slap meets the flesh of her ass, turning around to find Amren laughing. She will not deny she enjoys the warmth that emerges from the affected area of her skin after the impromptu spanking. However, Nesta eyes the other female with a glare, she swears she’s never been more willing to attempt to tear Amren's throat out then she is right now. Nesta isn’t even entirely sure why, usually her subconscious would make itself known at this point to try to guide her away from such a rash decision. However, now that her soul is complete, Nesta cannot feel anything within her aside from a pleased rumble of agreement. 

“How will I know?” Nesta asks, turning back towards the treasure trove of sex toys displayed before her. 

“There is only so much I can tell you, try trusting your instincts,” Amren answers softly, the sound of her footsteps echoing as she takes a couple steps back, clearly giving Nesta space to work with.

Nesta inhales a deep breath before exhaling softly, closing her eyes so that she can try and concentrate. Nesta lifts her hands–palms up–and holds them there, her elbows remaining in a position at about the same height as her waist. She tunes out the room around her and focuses in on the flames that have been joyfully traveling around her body ever since she finally accepted their presence, she focuses in on her power, tapping into the electric bundle at her core and then refocusing her energy on the area in front of her. 

As she mentally scans the toys with her power–eyes still closed–she hopes that she is able to tap into whatever instincts Amren is referring to. As she keeps scanning though, she feels the electricity inside her getting more painful as she gets closer to a certain area. Here, Nesta knows where to go. She keeps her eyes closed as she moves in that direction, each step causing the stinging to travel to a new area of her body. Finally, Nesta opens her eyes as her stiletto covered toe meets the edge of the shelf of toys.

The sight of a black riding crop makes her mouth water, yes this, we need to use this, we need to keep others in line. To make things even better, the crop had a beautiful diamond encrusted handle. Before she has a chance to pick it up, Nesta realizes her power isn’t done screaming at her, something more, we need something else. 

“I need to pick another,” Nesta turns her head over her shoulder slightly to make eye-contact with Amren, noting that her silver eyes blink slightly in surprise before she shrugs her bare shoulders.

“As I’ve been saying the whole time, listen to your instincts,” Amren steps back up to the shelf next to Nesta, gesturing for her to carry on with her business as Amren picks up the riding crop to hold for her. 

Nesta turns back around to follow the second trail of sparks that had been nagging at her. Only after she picked up the riding crop did Nesta actually realize that she was meant to be following two different paths. Not that it matters anymore, now she knows what to do. Nesta doesn’t even bother to close her eyes, instead she makes her way straight for the shelf of strap-ons, her sights locked on this massive red dildo. 

Nesta is a bit confused though once she gets closer, although it satisfies her instincts–the fact that this is the thickest dildo she has ever seen in her life makes her clit throb–she can’t help but notice the inside of it is hollow. Nesta picks up the toy and turns back around again to ask Amren what it is.

“Oh!” Amren’s eyes light up in delight as she eyes what Nesta is holding, “I haven’t had a chance to use that with him yet, this is wonderful!”

“Why is it hollow though?” Nesta asks, a bit nervous about the fact that she thinks Amren actually skips as she makes her way over to grab the toy from Nesta. She also tries not to focus on the fact that she thinks this is the most excited she has ever seen Amren outside of her talks with Lucien about whatever sport it is that they both like. 

“Oh child,” Amren starts, the term once again annoying Nesta and causes her to roll her eyes, “this isn’t a strap on for you.”

Nesta shoots her head back up at the ancient one’s words. Oh?

She eyes Amren, who is stalling at the edge of the mirror frame.

“It’s for him,” Amren grins at her, a mischievous spark in her eye. Nesta feels another wave of heat wash over her entire body as she imagines the implications of this knowledge. However, Nesta also gets hit with a sudden sense of insecurity as Amren leaves the hidden section of the closet.

“Amren, I have a question,” Nesta calls out as she follows her. As she crosses into the other section, she spies Amren placing the toys that Nesta has selected in one of the empty spaces on the shelves between candle displays, the tiny fae’s back turned away from her. Amren sighs and lets her head hang forward before turning around to meet Nesta’s gaze. 

“What is it now, girl?” Amren is no longer hiding her impatience, not even bothering to reprimand Nesta for failing to call her Mistress. Nesta doesn’t feel bad though, how could she when she finally feels like she belongs in her own body. There is one question she still needs to ask.

“How do I know that this magic is truly my own? How do I know this was meant to belong to me?” Nesta has never felt better or more like she belongs in her body than this moment in time, she is just worried that this is a trick, that it won’t stay that way, that she’s not strong enough.

Amren glares at her as soon as Nesta finishes spitting out the question, visibly incredulous that she had the gall to even ask the question.

"I have watched many a reign come and go girl, you dare question me?" Nesta gulps as Amren storms up to her, no longer teasing in her grip as she grabs Nesta’s arm and swings her around so that she faces the mirror again. 

“I thought we went over this already but let me try to explain it one more time,” Nesta sees Amren frown through the reflection, the tiny fae standing on Nesta’s left side this time rather than behind her because of the added height of Nesta’s stilettos. 

“Close your eyes!” Amren orders. Nesta does. 

“What do you feel?” she asks, holding Nesta at the waist as she massages little circles into the skin of Nesta’s hips, visible through the cutouts of her teddy.

Nesta sighs before emptying her mind, trying to focus purely on her inner core.

“I feel fire, it's everywhere. My nipples are hard, my pussy is wet, and it feels like my flesh is being scorched from within, I want-” Nesta cuts herself off. She wants so much. She wants to dominate, she wants to take, she wants to own, Nesta can’t even keep up with all the urges running past her mind, she knows for sure though that she’s never felt more hungry than she is in this moment. 

“Open your eyes, girl," Amren orders just as Nests feels like the fire in her chest is about to break past her ribcage. Again, if it was any other time Nesta would rip her a new one for continuing to call her ‘girl’. Now though, what other option does she have other than to listen?

Nesta opens her eyes and is met with their reflection, flames clearly dancing within her gray-blue hues. 

"Your power wants to work with you,” Amren hisses, splaying one of her hands on the bare skin below Nesta’s breasts, “it's meant for you to wield."

 "Feel this?" Amren presses her palm into the region above Nesta’s pelvic bone, the added pressure sending waves of pleasure towards her cunt, her nipples raging with electricity as they beg for similar attention. 

“Feel how good it aches," Amren whispers, moving her other hand to play with the zipper on Nesta’s front. She cries out a moan as Amren adds even more pressure to the area above her pelvic region, I do feel. 

"Feel how it makes your body cry for more?" she asks, and Nesta is starving. 

"This is what true power feels like girl, this is the feeling that men climb, cry and fight for, but they always fail," Amren brings her lips to Nesta’s ear and Nesta would be lying if she says she’s anything other than horny as fuck. 

"But us," Amren whispers, her soft breath causing Nesta to become somehow even more sensitive than before. Amren removes her hands from Nesta’s lower body and instead brings them up to slide beneath the fabric of her teddy, the cut providing easy access to her breasts. 

"Creatures like you and I…," Amren continues to whisper, squeezing Nesta’s breasts a couple times as Nesta feels even more wetness pool between her folds.

"We will prevail," Amren whispers, leaving a kiss under Nesta’s ear before letting go of her and backing away, out of the mirror’s line of vision. 

“I see” Nesta closes her eyes once more and reflects. She finally thinks she gets it now, at least for the most part. Because how can she deny who she is any longer? Who is she to decide that she isn’t meant to be here? The magic is in her now, it breathes with her and it craves her every waking desire. Her journey in this new world has been like a battle between Nesta’s old beliefs, her family, and the grim reality seemingly standing before her. Now though, Nesta Archeon is done being afraid. 

She opens her eyes only to immediately realize the lighting in the room has changed. The flickering yellow-orange flames from Amren’s candles are no more, in their stead, to Nesta’s utter astonishment, are silver flames, casting the room in a flickering white glow instead. In a similar tune, almost as if her magic is rejoicing at her inner revelation, Nesta feels another round of flames lick up her inner viscera, making her insides feel warm and comforting like a hearth. This body is no vessel, it is her own flesh and blood.

“I believe it's time,” Amren says quietly, softly, like she doesn’t want to accidentally startle Nesta into closing herself off from her magic again.

“I’m ready,” Nesta replies in the same tone, nodding at Amren through the mirror to show her that she is genuinely grateful for her assistance. It is actually quite insane to think that all it took to set her head straight was to be brought to the edge of an orgasm.

“I’ll give you a minute, I’ll be waiting in the hall.”

Nesta inhales as she nods in acknowledgement, once again admiring Amren’s petite figure as the female makes her way to exit the small room. Nesta feels yet another bout of heat spurn within her as she spies Amren grabbing the toys that Nesta has selected to use for tonight before she leaves.

“Remember what you can be, girl,” Amren tosses over her shoulder just before the door slams behind her, setting silence upon the tiny room where Nesta still stands. She waits a moment, listening. Judging by the increasingly quiet clack of the tiny Fae’s heels on the wooden floor, Nesta presumes that Amren is going to place them wherever she has stashed Varian thus far. 

Nesta closes her eyes, reveling in the swirling thrum of sparks inside her, she would like to think that it is her inner beast coming to say hello, she really would. But Nesta is an intelligent woman…an intelligent woman who knows that the jump in her arousal is most definitely because she notices that the strap-on–the massive hollow toy that she intends to use tonight–is close to over half the length of Amren’s forearm. And the thickness… cauldron. She knows that a male-strap-on has to have a certain level of thickness in regards to the girth because it has to allow for a cock to fill its hollow opening. However–Nesta thinks as she opens her eyes, seeing the flames inside them staring back at her through the mirror in front of her–she wonders exactly what type of toy is hanging between Varian’s legs that requires a dildo as thick as her wrist. She is witness to her own reflection as a devilish grin forms on her own mouth–Nesta is more than ready to leave all that was before in this room. 

“It’s time,” Nesta speaks aloud to the empty room. She refuses to let herself cower in the face of power ever again, especially when it's her own. Nesta straightens her posture, taking one last look at her reflection.  

It’s time to take what she needs.

___Preview of Next Chapter____

“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry, did we leave you alone too long,” Amren coos to her lover. Varian sits exposed on a simple wooden chair in the middle of the couple’s bedroom. The Summer Court male’s head is hanging low, his white tendrils of hair acting like a shield in front of his face. Nesta did not pick up on any sort of response from the male that indicates that he acknowledges their presence. She takes a quick peek over at Amren and decides not to worry after finding the other female to seem emphatically unconcerned. Nesta watches on silently as the tiny fae takes a couple soft predatory steps towards the subdued male. Nonetheless, she stills to take in the view of the delicious specimen of man in front of her. Nesta can admit fully that she has never really given much thought to Varian before, not really having much time to assess him in the short three months after the war with Hybern. However, now, she can’t seem to look away from the large male’s thick muscular thighs, his heavy cock, his beautiful dark skin–fuck, Nesta feels her cunt throb in anticipation. 

“Baby boy,” Amren releases another coo, causing Varian to finally raise his gaze to meet his Mistresses and causing Nesta to shiver for a different reason entirely. Now, not only does she have a better view of the male himself, a white blindfold and ball gag rendering his sight and ability to speak obsolete; but also she can see his nostrils flaring and his muscles twitching. Nesta is absolutely enraptured in the scene in front of her as she watches Varian suddenly seem to try to lunge in Amren’s direction, the man trying and failing to get closer to her, his muscles bulging in their effort to win a one-sided battle against his restraints.

But it isn’t until Nesta spots Varian’s collar, large and heavy on his neck, that she feels her nipples harden and another bout of wetness starting to form between her folds. Here, on Varian’s neck, in Amren’s apartment in Velaris, is one of the Summer Court’s infamous blood rubies. The massive jewel's weight was supported by a two-inch thick diamond encrusted platinum band. She knows it must sit heavy on his neck, it seems almost impossible that a jewel that large could be fixed upon a collar without falling, yet there it stands.

Last Nesta had checked, the source material of Prythian’s most common nightmares had decided to use this ‘threat’ as a paperweight. Although, she can’t deny how much the pathway to her center steams at the thought of the Summer Court male being made to wear a sign of ownership stamped with the ultimate symbol of betrayal of his own court, an invocation of  a feud on a personal level.  

Nesta can’t help but muse over what the thrill of incurring such a depth of loyalty from another must taste like, she wonders too, greedily and needily what it feels like to be such a fearsome predator to surpass the laws of societal expectation. Is this Amren’s subtle yet personal way of invoking her own feud, a remnant of the possessive creature that once roamed inside of her that is furious at the land for claiming ownership of something that she marked as hers. She also wonders heatedly, enviously, what it would be like to be wanted that furiously. Need starts to play at the strings of her core, she can feel it heating and readying itself for something more.

“Don’t be shy now, boy,” Amren instructs Varian, the man immediately turning his head in the direction of her voice, clearly desperate for her touch. Nesta would be lying if she said the palpable smell and taste of his desperation didn’t cause her clit to start to throb.

The sweetness of the pair in front of her simultaneously puts Nesta on edge as well as incurs yet another thrum of heat inside of her. Amren is never sweet. Nesta watches on as her mentor finally reaches her lover–no, her pet. Amren looks Varian up and down with a hungry gleam in her eye before grabbing his chin roughly, causing what sounds like a gruff moan to escape the large man’s lips. That’s all it took? Nesta thinks to herself. 

“You haven’t even been touched boy and you’re already sweating?” Amren tuts, roughly maneuvering his chin as she gives him a thorough inspection, the male seemingly keening into the contact despite its roughness. Nesta tries not to get whiplash as Amren softly pats the male’s cheek twice with her free hand before letting it drop to rest on her waist.

“Pathetic,” the ancient one scoffs, finally releasing her other hand’s grip on his chin. 

Nesta realizes that the male in front of her is not the same one that has been a frequent guest at their dinner table over the last couple of months. No, tonight she is not looking at the same captain of Tarquin’s guard nor the commendable battle tactician that she has come to know. Instead, Nesta finds herself looking at Amren’s pet. As soon as the thought crosses her mind though, Nesta is hit by a shudder that rolls through her entire body, a shock of a reprimand from something deep in her core, something primal.No, Nesta reprimands herself, straightening her posture as she starts to make her own way towards Varian. Tonight, he is her prey.

_______________________

Tag List: (tell me if you don’t wanna be here) @acourtofladydeath @ofduskanddreams @secret-third-thing @areyoudreaminof @iftheshoef1tz @chunkypossum @queercontrarian @yourlazykitkat @krem-has-a-mess @witch-and-her-witcher @yanny-77 @pippsmcgee @fieldofdaisiies

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: emeto, violence, gore, major character death (ive always wanted to list that)

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

I don't have any words for you guys except I'm sorry and I'm crying too

part fifty-three

❝ DENIAL ❞

MONDAY — OCTOBER 31 — 12:49AM

BENTLEY LED BELLAMY OUT OF HIS CELL AND INTO THE HALLWAY, WHERE EVERYBODY ELSE WAS WAITING IN THE ELEVATOR, HOLDING THE DOORS OPEN FOR HIM.

“Go,” Bentley said quietly, ushering him along toward the doors. Bellamy was still crying softly, (And, honestly, Bentley was just about two seconds away from bawling his eyeballs out, too.) Rockie was just waiting outside the elevator doors for them, fidgeting anxiously with the keycard he had.

Bellamy glanced back at Bentley when they approached the elevator, and Bentley rubbed his back reassuringly. “Go ahead. It’s going to be okay.”

With a quiet hiccup, Bellamy wiped his eyes and moved forward. Koa reached out for him, drawing him into the elevator and resting his hands on his shoulders to keep him there.

“Get off campus immediately. You’re going to get your powers back when you get to the surface, so if anybody tries anything, kill them,” Rockie ordered to the group, reaching into the elevator and tapping the keycard there. “We’ll be up soon.”

“You’re not coming?” Bellamy asked suddenly, his brown eyes lingering on Bentley’s face, wide with dread, with fear.

“I… I’ll be up soon,” Bentley replied. Rockie pushed a button on the inside of the elevator and stepped away, a piercing beep cutting through the air.

“What?” Bellamy muttered, seeming almost startled, his eyes flicking to the elevator’s panel on the inside, then back to Bentley in a panic. The doors started closing and Bentley saw Koa hold tight to his shoulders to keep him from running back out, a few sad sobs ripping their way out of him as the doors slid shut. “No, Bentley! They'll kill you!”

The doors closed fully, and the machine whirred to life, leaving Bentley and Rockie in the white hallway alone.

With an exhale, Bentley looked down at his socked feet, lingering for a moment in the silence. What if that was the last time he’d see one of them? Varian? What if Varian didn’t wake up? What if it was the last time he saw Vera? Or Koa? Or Valor? Or Summer? Or Bellamy?

Bentley flinched when Rockie’s gloved hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Bentley said nothing, but gently shrugged his hand off. “Fine.”

Rockie sighed heavily, turning and starting back down the hall, toward the elevator that led back to the main part of the facility. “Asten and Layla are in the medical wing already — I saw them being escorted in there along with some other kids,” Rockie shook his head. “They're moving so fast I guess they decided to cut out steps of the protocol.”

Bentley blinked at him, turning and following closely behind. “So what you’re saying is-“

“They’re probably already getting drained. The process takes about four hours, they've been in there for maybe thirty minutes. Kids... typically start to die about three hours in,” Rockie explained quickly. He made it to the elevator and tapped the keycard on the panel, summoning the elevator back down to them. “And now that security is looking for us, it’s gonna be one hell of a fight to make it there. They’ll shoot on sight.”

Bentley watched the elevator doors slide open, nodding to himself. “Then let’s... stay out of sight.”

“Yeah,” Rockie scoffed, stepping into the elevator. Bentley followed. “Simple.”

“It is simple, when you have me,” A fluttery falsetto came in Bentley’s head. “Hey. Sorry I’m late to the party.”

“Charlie,” He whispered, settling into the elevator and turning his head slightly away from Rockie. “Where have you been?”

“What?” Rockie asked.

“I kept her distracted for a little bit, but then she realized it wasn’t you there,” Charlie explained with a soft sigh. Rockie pushed buttons in his peripheral. “So I went about screwing with the guys who watch the security cameras and made them see nothing. As well as routing all people away from you in the halls, while simultaneously fighting for my life because the Secret Keeper was trying to murder me inside my own head. You’re welcome.”

Bentley exhaled heavily as the doors slid closed and the elevator dinged. That's why he hadn't seen anything? Anyone? That's why everything had gone so good? Because of Charlie?

“Thank you.”

“Are you losing your mind right in front of me?” Rockie questioned, waving a gloved hand in front of Bentley’s face. “Who are you talking to?”

Bentley glanced over at him with a soft sigh as the elevator kicked into its ascent. “It’s complicated.”

Rockie just blinked at him.

"Go on, explain it," Charlie urged.

Bentley sighed heavily. “The Secret Keeper, the telepath? She's like an alter ego forced into a girl's body, so there’s, like, two different people inside of her. The original girl, Charlie Reins, uses the Secret Keeper’s powers to talk to me,” He explained quickly as the elevator rose up the shaft. “She said she’ll help us, but you have to do what I say.”

"Help?" Rockie scoffed.

"Yes. She can read minds and see the future like the Secret Keeper. She's the only reason I made it through this place last time," Bentley continued.

Rockie narrowed his eyes at him, and a long moment of silence came where Bentley glanced anxiously at the elevator doors. Rockie hummed quietly to himself for a minute, glancing around the tiny room. “Are you lying to me right now?”

“What?” Bentley questioned incredulously, scrunching his face up in Rockie's direction. "No, I'm not lying. I'm not like you."

It looked like Rockie debated on saying something, but decided on sighing instead, looking away from Bentley and crossing his arms. "You can stop with the cheap jabs now, they're getting a little old."

The redhead glanced over at him. “Sorry, I just assumed you stopped caring about my opinion when you walked out on us.”

Rockie suddenly turned, and Bentley didn’t even have time to react before he grabbed him by the front of his jumpsuit and shoved him back against the elevator wall with a thud, standing over him unsettlingly. Bentley'd forgotten how tall he was. “If I didn’t go with them, they were going to kill you all, one by one, until I caved,” He hissed, the damn near most venomous sentence Bentley had heard from anyone since he moved into Redwood. “But if I had known you were all going to be fucking assholes about it, maybe I would’ve let them.”

Bentley wedged his hands up between the two of them, channeling all his currently available strength into shoving Rockie in the chest. He stumbled maybe a foot or two away. “Don’t touch me.”

For a few moments, neither of them said anything — they just looked at each other. Rockie’s green eyes were glowing like they always did, but somehow they were different. Bentley wasn’t really sure how. Almost like some aspect of them had been stripped away, peeled off.

Rockie crossed his arms tightly. “I didn’t even do anything to you,” He mumbled, his voice strangely small, his eyes drifting down to the floor. “You're acting like I shot you in the foot and tossed you in a cell myself. All I did was walk away.”

Bentley crossed his arms tightly, too.

“And that was enough,”

Another moment of silence passed.

“When people are scared, they show you what they really care about,” Bentley exhaled lightly, eyes drifting to the floor, then back up to Rockie. “And you walked away.”

“So I’m the bad guy now, for not wanting to die? For not wanting you to die? Is that it?” Rockie questioned, flicking his hands out to the side. “You don’t seem to understand, Bentley. When they said I would be punished for staying, they planned to kill you all. It’s been the deal since the beginning — if I betrayed them, they’d kill everybody I cared about. It never mattered before, because I never had anyone…”

Bentley didn’t say anything, just watched Rockie look back down at the floor, dragging the toe of his tennis shoe there. “Hate me if you want to... But I saved your life by walking out. And I'd do it again.”

Suddenly, the elevator jolted to a very abrupt stop with the loud sound of metal scraping on metal, knocking both Bentley and Rockie off balance. Rockie stumbled into the wall and Bentley nearly fell into him.

Both of them, eyes wide, looked around in a panic.

“What the hell?” Rockie muttered.

“She had them disable the elevators,” Charlie said into Bentley’s head with an irritated sigh. “But the others made it out before they did. Don’t worry. I’m working on it.”

“They disabled it,” Bentley repeated, glancing around the small white box they were trapped in. “Charlie said she’s working on it.”

Rockie moved for the doors, trying futilely to shove his metal gloved fingers in the crevice between them and pry them open. Bentley glanced up — there was what looked like an emergency hatch there on the ceiling, a square outline among the white, but they didn’t need it if Charlie was going to help, right?

He glanced back down at Rockie, who was still pulling on the doors, almost frantically.

“They won’t open. We’re probably stuck between floors anyways,” Bentley said. Rockie didn’t say anything, but kept tugging and pulling at them, not even sparing him a glance.

“Rockie,” Bentley started, taking a step to the side in a bid to see his face. He furrowed his brows when he realized that Rockie was suddenly breathing in a familiar manner — quick, and shallow, like Bentley when he got too stressed out.

“Rockie?” Bentley questioned, taking another step to the side. “Are you claustrophobic?”

“No,” He gritted out, still prying at the doors.

Suddenly, a stab of pain ripped through Bentley’s skull, and he reached a hand out, resting it on the elevator wall to support his weight.

“You think you’re so clever, getting Charlie to distract me. Who’s to say this isn’t all part of my plan? That it’s not all supposed to happen like this?” The Secret Keeper’s voice came in his head, and she laughed; a bubbly, sinister sound. “The babybird’s stuck in a cage while his friends are dying. You’re playing right into my hand, Bentley.”

“Get out of my head,” He ordered softly, bringing his hand up to his right temple when a spike of pain stabbed him there. He didn't see Rockie look back at him.

“It isn’t that easy,”

Suddenly, the elevator melted away around him, replaced with the white abyss he’d grown so accustomed to. With an irritated exhale, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked around at the nothing in the room.

"Well? What're you gonna show me?" He questioned, throwing his hands out to the side. “Get it over with already.”

The Secret Keeper laughed. "Eager, are we?"

“I have somewhere to be,” He replied with the shake of his head. “So, what is it? Asten bleeding to death? Layla with a flatline?”

“Look at you! Growing a spine!” The Secret Keeper chided, fizzling into view only a few feet away from him, giggling and beginning to circle him, slowly, like a vulture. “Baby Bentley isn’t such a baby anymore! It’s a far cry from that ten year old I met four years ago who vomited when I first showed myself.”

“What the hell do you want?” Bentley asked, turning in a circle as she rounded behind him, following her with his eyes. “Why do you insist on being a constant pest?”

A separate voice suddenly came, a whisper among the white; a familiar whisper — Charlie. So faint the Secret Keeper didn’t seem to hear it. “Bentley, don’t believe what she shows you. She can’t kill me if weren’t not in the physical world.”

“I think you should ask yourself that question,” The Secret Keeper sneered, reaching out and dragging her fingers across Bentley’s jawline and chin as she walked. He brought a hand up and whacked hers away; he didn’t really know what he’d expected, for it to feel real or for him to phase right through her, but to his surprise, he was able to slap her hand away from him.

She chuckled at him. “You’re welcome. I’m the one who brought this out in you, you know. I made you this way.”

“You have nothing to do with who I am,” Bentley scoffed, turning as she rounded him. “My family made me who I am.”

“Your family?” She laughed. “You finally stepped up and became brave when you were facing me eye-to-eye on that rooftop. You only grew a spine to defy me. You don’t need a spine to live with the perfect little family — you don’t grow one that way. You grow one through trials. Fighting.”

“I-”

“Even if you were to win, Bentley, you would have my scent all over you for the rest of your life. I’ve left my impression on your personality — you’ll never, ever, ever be able to get away from it,” She explained, not even allowing him time to speak. “I’m part of you now, Babybird. My memory will always be there, crawling across your skin, running through your veins. After all, we’re both just villains, aren’t we? Puppeteer?”

Bentley felt himself tense for a second, but he shifted his weight in an attempt to hide it, blinking in a bid to rid his memory of the name.

“Ooh, struck a nerve?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bentley ordered, his gaze drifting down to the white floor.

“Why? It’s who you are. Pieces of your father, pieces of me — you could be unstoppable, if it weren’t for all of those dreadful emotions you can’t seem to contain,” She chuckled. “I show you the simplest things, and you crumble completely.”

Bentley just watched as she slowed to a stop in front of him, twisted stitched and bleeding smile still stretching wide across her features. “By the way — I have someone for you to see.”

She held a hand out by her side, and smoke swirled under it. Charlie materialized there. She was on the floor on her knees, no longer in her purple dress, but a white jumpsuit like the one Bentley was in.

Bentley inhaled at the sight of her. Her blonde hair was red at the ends with blood, and her jumpsuit, once solid white, was now three quarters crimson. Her face was busted up and scraped and bruised so bad she hardly looked like herself, shallow, precise cuts from a knife arcing up from either side of her mouth to imitate The Secret Keeper’s signature smile. The cuts made almost half of her face red with blood, and it was still coming, running down her neck and all over the rest of her. Her blue eyes were dull, and she wasn’t really looking at him. Or anything. She was just kind of… staring off.

She can’t kill me if we’re not in the physical world.

Bentley, though the sheer amount of blood threatened to make his world swirl out of focus, merely drew in a breath.

The Secret Keeper held out her opposite hand, and the same dagger she’d tried to stab Bentley with appeared in it. Chains came from the abyss above them and latched onto Charlie’s wrists, jerking her arms up above her head.

She can’t kill me if we’re not in the physical world. Bentley forced himself to remember her words. She couldn’t kill her. She couldn’t kill her. She couldn’t kill her.

The Secret Keeper stabbed her in the chest directly in front of Bentley and twisted it with a sickening laugh.

Bentley’s stomach lurched at the explosion of red that immediately stained her jumpsuit even more than it already had, and the blood-curdling, strangled sounding scream she let out made something writhe beneath his skin.

“Don’t react!” Her voice came, a whisper, but he was already snapping a hand over his mouth in a bid to quiet the sudden and intense wave of nausea that made him feel really sick. The Secret Keeper was just laughing. At Charlie. At the knife. “Put your hand down! Be unbothered!”

Bentley snapped his hand down by his side, keeping his lips pressed into a firm line — the last line of defense should his body actually decide to make him throw up. Could he even throw up in the white place? Or would he just be throwing up in real life?

The Secret Keeper pulled the knife out, splattering blood on her face in the process, and she looked over at Bentley. Charlie had gone slack and nearly unconscious in the chains.

Bentley swallowed hard, forcing the nausea down, forcing the terror off of his face and out of his head so maybe she couldn’t feel it. He replaced it with hatred and disdain instead.

She couldn’t kill her.

He crossed his arms over his chest, trying really, really hard to keep his body language natural and free of tension while she was looking at him. With blood all over her face.

“If you react, I’ll kill you myself!” Came Charlie’s whisper, and then a second later: “Okay, inappropriate joke. I won’t. But you get how serious I am! I’ll work to keep her out of your head, but you’ve gotta keep all that disgust off of your face.”

Bentley drew in a breath, trailing his eyes across the blood on her face and pretending it didn’t make his stomach churn unsettlingly. “Are you finished?”

“Oh my God, Bentley!” Charlie whispered, sounding pleasantly surprised. “You’re such a fucking savage.”

I’m literally about to vomit, he made himself think.

“Yeah, well, don’t!”

The Secret Keeper, evidently still hung on his, quote-on-quote, savage question, stepped forward. Her eyes went colder than Asten’s old cell, and she dropped the dagger, the weapon exploding into a puff of smoke when it hit the floor, disappearing entirely. “Excuse me?”

Bentley lifted his brows at her. “Are. You. Finished? I have shit to do.”

The Secret Keeper cocked her head at him like a dog, taking a step forward, without a word.

“Get out of my head,” Bentley demanded, taking a step toward her. She creased her brow at him, almost like he’d… done something she hadn’t expected.

“What?” She growled, her cold gaze turning sinister very, very quickly. She started inching forward; dragging her feet across the floor toward him.

Bentley didn’t move. “I said get out of my head.”

The Secret Keeper didn’t speak; she only twitched. One of her eyes, and her left hand, like she was feeling for something that didn’t exist. A knife, Bentley assumed, since he was so royally pissing her off.

“Get out of my head!” He repeated, stepping forward again. The Secret Keeper looked down at his feet, like she couldn’t believe he was getting closer to her.

She stepped forward, too. “Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that? Why-”

“Get out!”

On the second word, Bentley gathered all the courage and bravery he could muster to step forward and shove her as hard as he could. She wasn’t very big, so she actually staggered maybe a yard away, and stumbled over her own feet, and then fell, and when she hit the white floor-

He jolted back into the real world with a gasp, standing in the elevator, one hand braced on the wall, the other laced in his hair.

At once he remembered the literal stabbing he had witnessed, and the bloodcurdling scream. He’d watched her stab Charlie straight in the chest. Like, stab.

He turned on his heel, dug his fingers into the stomach of his jumpsuit, and threw up a rather pitiful amount of bile in the corner of the disabled elevator.

Rockie, who had been sitting in the corner near the door, diagonal from him, moved with a soft: "Oh, shit."

Bentley's head was throbbing with the same murderous migraine he'd forgotten in his panic earlier; but it was a newer, worse pain. The room threatened to spin with every attempt to open his eyes, and his adrenaline began to be replaced by a toxic exhaustion, clawing up his ankles and making it hard to focus.

Rockie was suddenly touching him, one hand on his back and the other holding tight to his left arm, keeping him from swaying.

"You don't look very good," He oh-so-helpfully stated.

"Don't feel very good," Bentley murmured back, screwing his hand up in the stomach of his jumpsuit when it threatened to lurch again. He kept trying to open his eyes but everything just kept swirling. "I think I might faint."

"What? Please don't," Rockie begged, his head dipping down so Bentley could've seen him if his eyes were open. He could've swore he sounded... desperate, or afraid, or something. He couldn't tell just then.

It was about at that point that Bentley's legs decided that they didn't want to work, and they gave out beneath him; the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor was Rockie's grip, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders.

"Okay. Okay," Bentley vaguely heard him mutter. Rockie moved Bentley carefully, until his head came to rest on something that felt suspiciously like his shoulder, his arms looping around his back gently but tight enough to keep him from falling. "Okay. We'll just stay like this for a minute. That's cool."

Bentley managed to peel the hand that wasn't tangled in his jumpsuit away from his side and bring it loosely around Rockie in return, his eyes suddenly stinging like somebody had sprayed lemon juice in them.

"I wanna go home," He whispered, voice thick and sort of slurred from the strange half-conscious state he was in.

Rockie just sort of rubbed his back. "I'll get you home."

Bentley was conscious for just long enough to feel a couple of tears fall down his face, before the pain and the sound and the emotions all became one big blur of something, and he let the darkness take him away with open arms.

--

When Bentley came to, he was laying on the floor of the elevator, knees tucked up to his chest, his head situated carefully on Rockie's balled up sweatshirt.

"Hey,"

Bentley glanced up to his right, where Rockie was sitting, now only wearing a white t-shirt with his sweatpants. He looked different -- more tired, maybe? He was just sitting against the wall of the small elevator with one leg tucked, the other outstretched, looking at nothing in particular.

Bentley sat up and rubbed at his eyes, cringing at the weakness he could already feel taking hold of him, grimacing at the taste of bile that still lingered in his mouth. How long was he out? Had they moved at all?

Despite his questions, a small: "What?" was about all he could manage to say.

"You threw up," Rockie stated. "Then passed out. I think you might have a fever, too."

Bentley wasn't quite sure how Rockie would've checked his temperature without taking his gloves off, but he also didn't have the willpower to ask. He just hummed, sitting up and tightening his knees against this chest.

"We've been in here... probably another hour or two. If Charlie doesn't get the elevator up, I'm not sure we're going to make it in time," Rockie stated, still refusing to look over at Bentley, staring down at his hands instead.

Bentley didn't say anything. And then, for a second, his brain drifted off to something completely unrelated -- the fact that earlier, Rockie had been prying at the elevator doors like they were going to kill him.

"Rockie?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"If you don’t intend to insult me after, sure,"

Bentley blinked for a second. "Why were you so scared earlier? Of the elevator?"

Rockie sighed lightly, glancing down at his hands. Fiddling with his fingers.

“I…”

He heard Rockie exhale heavily. He thought at first that he wouldn't respond, and he didn't blame him. They weren't friends anymore, were they? Not-friends didn't tell each other stuff like that; they didn't answer those kinds of questions.

But finally:

"They started locking me in a six-by-six white room when I was eleven, trying to determine if my powers fluctuated based on... heightened emotions. Fear," He replied quietly, absentmindedly fiddling with his glove. "They locked me inside every day, for four hours. Three years straight. With her."

Bentley kept silent.

"It didn't even end up working," He mumbled. “My powers never changed. I guess the elevator just... reminded me of that room.”

Bentley didn’t say anything for a moment.

“But I’m fine. You deciding to puke your guts out distracted me,”

And suddenly, the elevator kicked back on, jostling them in the floor as it continued its ascent.

Bentley blinked, and Charlie’s voice came: “Finally!”

Rockie popped off the floor, wiping his hands on his pants. He turned to Bentley and held a gloved hand out to him. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Bentley replied, reaching up and taking his hand. Rockie tugged him off of the floor and, after a second where he gathered his footing, he let go again. The world threatened to spin, but he blinked and shook his head and didn't let it.

“Are you sure you’re okay enough to-“

“Yes,” Bentley cut him off, despite the fact he felt mere moments from death. “I’m okay. Being passed out for a little while helped.”

“You shouldn’t have to be in a position where passing out helps,” Rockie exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He grabbed the keycard out of his sweatpants pocket and held it over to Bentley. Bentley was pretty sure he was supposed to have one on his person, but he didn't, and he wasn't sure where it went. “Here; just go back down and head out through the elevator we sent the others up in. I’ll take care of everything down here.”

“No,” Bentley was quick to reply, shaking his head lightly and looking back up at Rockie. “I’m not leaving.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open right in the midst of their conversation — immediately, both Bentley and Rockie all but threw themselves backwards, thudding against opposite walls on either side of the door so they were out of sight. The sudden and panicky movement made Bentley’s vision swim and headache rage even harder than it had been, and he wanted to groan about it, but he didn’t. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

“Stay still. Don’t move,” Charlie’s voice came.

Bentley caught Rockie’s eye, and mouthed: Don’t move.

Bentley saw Rockie’s fingers twitching as a pair of footsteps grew near to the elevator door. Bentley just pushed himself hard into the corner and kept his eyes laser focused on Rockie's green ones, hoping his gaze would pin him down just enough to keep him from moving. Just for a second.

A man in white armor stepped onto the elevator.

He stood idly in the threshold and glanced around, quickly. His armor looked like metal — Bentley hadn’t noticed that before. He had a huge black assault rifle in his white gloved hands, and a helmet that reminded him of a welding mask. 

The man looked around the small room, taking in every corner and crevice of white, nearly looking Bentley straight in the eye. He did a few passes of all the corners, his gaze not seeming to stick on him, or Rockie, not even on the sweatshirt sitting in the floor.

He huffed and stepped back out. Bentley heard the crackle of a walkie talkie coming to life. “They’re not here, boss.”

Rockie looked over at Bentley with this absolutely flabbergasted look on his face, and Bentley mouthed: “Charlie.”

With the shake of his head, Rockie reached over ever-so-slowly and pushed in the open door button, holding it down tightly.

“I’m keeping the Secret Keeper locked out of your minds, for now. She can’t see into them. Which means she can’t get your location,” Charlie said. “But she knows where you’re trying to go. So we’re taking a back way.”

Bentley merely nodded, even though she couldn't see him. 

“Go out of the elevator now. Immediately go right. There’s a guard, but I’ve got him,”

Bentley gestured for Rockie to follow and hurried out of the elevator, taking an immediate right. There was a guard there, the same one, back facing them, holding his gun tight in his hand. Almost like he was guarding the elevator, waiting for something suspicious.

Rockie wordlessly grabbed Bentley’s arms from behind in an attempt to pull him the other way, but Bentley merely shook his head, quietly wrenching him arms from his grip.

The guard fell.

Rockie paused and stared, and Bentley moved farther down the hall, past the guard. There was blood running from his nose, ears, and eyes. Bentley looked away with a grimace, taking a few more steps and glancing down the halls.

“There’s a-"

Chi-chink.

Bentley turned at the sound of an assault rifle being chambered behind him.

Much to his relief (and slight terror?) it was Rockie. He'd grabbed the guard’s giant assault rifle despite his metal gloves, and was now scouring his limp body... for ammunition, Bentley guessed.

“What are you doing?” He whispered, glancing anxiously down the hallways around them. "Someone might hear you. We need to go."

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Rockie muttered. He pulled something out of the man’s waistband and slid it across the floor to Bentley.

A pistol. An actual, real pistol. 

The thought of picking it up made his head spin.

A second later, the man’s keycard slid up beside it. And then a pistol magazine.

Bentley swallowed thickly. “Charlie’s gonna get us there in secret, Rockie... we don’t need-“

“I’m not going with you,”

Bentley furrowed his brows, his mouth going dry. “What?”

“You can listen to her if you want, but I don’t trust her. She’s part of the Secret Keeper,” He replied nonchalantly. “I’m going for Layla. The girls are drained in a separate room than the boys, so we aren’t going to the same place anyways.”

Bentley inhaled sharply. “But-”

“If she lies to you, the medical wing is at the very right end of the main hall with the siphoning rooms. It’s absolutely massive. The draining rooms have windows. You can’t miss them.”

“Please don’t leave,” Bentley mumbled, taking a step toward him as Rockie rose with the gun, putting a few full magazines in his sweatpants pockets. His hoodie had been long abandoned in the elevator.

“Bentley-”

“I don’t want to be alone,”

Rockie merely looked at him for a few moments. “Then come with me.”

“No! Bentley, you’ll die!” Charlie ordered frantically.

“No,” Bentley half-whispered. “If you go and try to shoot them all, you’ll... die.”

“If I’m going down, I want to take as many of these bastards with me as I can,” Rockie replied, turning on his heel, and heading for the main hall that was shining bright in Bentley's eyes. “Good luck, Bentley.”

“No, Rockie!” Bentley took a couple steps to follow him, but stopped short, a gnarly burn surfacing behind his eyes. “Charlie? Is… is he the one?”

Charlie resigned to silence.

And then, a few quiet moments later, after the burning had turned into watery eyes as had then turned into tears that fell down his face, Charlie whispered: “Don’t follow him.”

“Oh my God,”

Rockie disappeared around the corner.

“Bentley, focus. Don’t follow him. Keep going straight,”

“Was that the last time I’ll see-”

“Bentley, listen to me. There are guards coming. You have to move, now,” She ordered in his head. “You don’t have much time. Thirty minutes tops. This place has a filter and distribution system created for widespread use of sedatives integrated into the air conditioning, but the system was disabled years ago when they decided it would be a danger to personnel. The system goes through the entire facility, and the vents needed to be large enough for repairs throughout the whole thing. So the answer is, yes. You’re going to be crawling through the vents like a spy movie.”

Bentley said nothing, his mind still utterly stuck on the fact that Rockie was going to... die.

“Get the keycard and go into the next cell closest to you. Now!”

Bentley did as he was told, numbly heading to the next metal door, opening it, going inside, and closing it behind him. There was no one in it.

Rockie was already dead.

“I’ll tell you when it’s safe to leave,”

Bentley didn’t say anything, but just focused on keeping himself together, for Asten’s sake. What if Rockie didn’t make it to Layla? Would she die, too? Had they messed up somewhere? 

“Stop thinking about it, Bentley,” Charlie ordered. “The guard passed. Go now.”

Bentley forced himself up and tapped the keycard again, the doors sliding open. 

“Go back where you came from, near the elevator. There’s a mechanical room right next to it where you’ll have access to the vents,”

Bentley made his way back into the dark hall, the one with the elevator, scanning the walls for the doors she'd mentioned.

Suddenly, the loud, terror inducing, horrendous noise of several assault rifles plagued his ears from the main hall.

He stopped right after he'd passed the elevator, just short of the next door, the one he was meant to go in. The hall spun and he put his hand against the wall there to hold himself up, clinging tight to the keycard to keep from dropping it.

“Rockie…”

“Don’t go back for him, Bentley. Don’t,” Charlie ordered in his head, solemnly. “I’m… helping him where I can. Open the door, inside there will be lots of machines, and a vent large enough for you to fit inside.”

Bentley didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept his hand planted firmly against the wall and stayed exactly where he was, poorly fighting away a very sudden urge to vomit again.

“Bentley,”

He shook his head. “I don’t… feel good.”

“I know. I know. You can push through it. I know you can,”

Bentley exhaled heavily. He wanted Bruce. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be sick with a fever alone in the hallways of a facility where they were trying to kill his friends. He didn't want to listen to the gunshots that were probably tearing through Rockie's body, aiming to leave him nothing more than a lump on the floor. He wanted to go home.

He threw up on the facility's white floor instead.

By the time his stupid muscles stopped spasming and his stupid stomach stopped evicting everything from inside itself, he was crying, fully. Most of it was thanks to the fact that he'd probably just heard Rockie die, but there was a little bit of it, too, that came from how badly he wanted to go home, how terrible felt, how hopeless he was. How was he supposed to save everyone like this? Falling apart? Alone? Sick?

“I can’t do it,” He sobbed, his full weight still resting on the wall next to him. Tears were streaming down his face but he didn't see the point in wiping them off. “I can’t… I won’t make it in time.”

“You definitely won’t if you don’t try,” Charlie replied softly. “It’s not like you to give up. You can do it. You’re so close.”

Bentley exhaled, and then inhaled. He thought about Asten.

Without another word, he pushed himself on. To the next door, through it, and into a large room that had a bunch of machines, consoles, and a large air vent close to the floor.

He closed the door behind him and went over to it, ignoring everything else. It had a grate, but it wasn't screwed in like normal -- it was latched, and had hinges so it could be opened easily by workers.

He unlatched it and pulled it open, looking into the vents beyond.

There was maybe a six foot drop before the vent turned out of his sight. There were various pipes and tubes and ducting curling and swirling around in there, probably the systems Charlie had talked about.

With an exhale, he pushed himself inside.

—

He was in the vents for a good fifteen, twenty minutes. Thumping around like an elephant in heels, stopping occasionally to flinch at a myriad of gunshots he heard from above, to panic about Rockie until Charlie calmed him down enough to go on. He stopped once because he needed to throw up again. He was pretty sure he really was sick.

By the time Charlie told him he was ‘there’, he was pretty sure he was five seconds away from actually dying. But then he had to not, because he was there.

He had to climb up a maybe six foot span of vent that went straight up — much like the vent he’d come in. It wouldn’t have been so hard on a normal day, but today wasn’t a normal day, so it was hard. He managed to use the pipes and ducts for the whatever system organized around the vents to get him up there. And it was only when Charlie said ‘now’ that he managed to use every bit of remaining strength to kick the vent grate out.

He climbed out into a very, very white room. He couldn’t see all the way across it because there were privacy curtains everywhere, like the curtains in s hospital. But, from what he could see, it looked big. He’d come out in a spot that seemed like he was in a corner, surrounded by shelves full of medical supplies and boxes.

“Go out. Put the grate back as best you can,”

Bentley followed her orders, climbing fully into the room and grabbing the grate, propping it where it had once been in a bid to make it look normal. The alarms were still blaring, and he could hear people talking, footsteps pounding across the floor. He could hear the sound of nearby chaos — gunshots, hundreds of them somewhere outside the room.

“Bentley, the room is set up like stripes. There’s rows of medical beds surrounded by these privacy curtains that have kids in them. Right now, you’re in the corner directly across from the corner with the door,” Charlie explained. “You see that privacy curtain to your right?”

Bentley turned and looked at the large, bluish-green plastic curtain to his right, past a few shelves. “Yeah?”

“Go in it. Get in the bed. Grab the IV tube and hide it under the blanket near your arm. Now,”

With a sharp exhale, Bentley squeezed himself between two shelves and ducked under the plastic-ey curtains. There was a large, white stretcher on the other side, and a big, white machine with buttons, dials, and a few different long tubes sticking out of it.

Bentley all but tossed himself at the bed, squirming to get under the covers and grabbing the bundle of tubes from the machine, shoving them under the blanket and playing dead there.

As soon as he stopped moving, the curtain whipped open with a whoosh.

He held his breath and made his whole body still, trying his hardest not to actually pass out in the presence of a blanket and bed. He heard a few footsteps come into the tiny space, and then a hum. “Looks like someone forgot to start you up.”

There were a few beeps and a whir from the machine next to him, and he heard the person leave, the privacy curtain whooshing shut behind them.

There was a moment of silence that ensued before Charlie said: “Go.” 

Bentley shoved himself out of the hospital bed, fighting off a wave of vertigo from standing so fast that was dutifully accompanied by a wave of nausea. He swallowed all the sickness down and pushed himself through the curtain and back into the empty space between them.

“Go right. Then turn right again — there’s only one walkway up here against the wall, you can’t miss it,”

Bentley merely went, his legs pushing him along with more willpower than his actual brain. He turned right, met with a long walkway, the left side lined with privacy curtains, the right with the wall. There was a break in the curtains every dozen feet or so that indicated a row.

“Walk ten paces, then go into the privacy curtain on your immediate left,”

Bentley started down the hall, counted to ten steps. On nine, he saw someone turn into the walkway from one of the rows ahead of him, so he practically threw himself to the side and through the next curtain.

“Feet up!” Charlie shouted. 

The nearest thing Bentley could actually use to get his feet up was the hospital bed, but this one had a person in it. A boy he didn’t know, maybe eleven or twelve, with bright blonde hair and long eyelashes that reminded him of Dick. He was connected to several large whirring machines, and an IV tube was coming out from under his blanket, filled with something suspiciously crimson.

Sitting on the edge of the bed next to him just to get his own feet out of sight made Bentley feel a little sick again.

The person padded by without suspecting a thing.

“You can go now.”

Bentley climbed off the bed and turned back, looking at the boy. He whispered: “How do I shut them all down?” 

There was a moment of silence. “What? No, Bentley, you’re here for Asten.”

“No, I…” He glanced at the whirring machine. At the evil, evil machine. “I can’t let them all die. Just tell me how to shut them down.”

“Bentley-”

“Please! It’ll stop draining everyone and I’ll still be able to get him,” Bentley begged. “I can’t leave them, Charlie.”

“Hold on! Hold on, just let me think,”

A few moments of silence passed, and Bentley merely stood there.

“Okay,” Charlie finally breathed. “Okay. Okay. Listen to me. There’s a main pump that controls all the smaller pumps in here, carries all the blood to another room where it gets filtered and stuff. You’re going to cut power to that pump. But you only have five minutes.”

“Okay,”

“Go back in the vents. If you run now, you should be able to slip in unseen,”

Numbly, Bentley listened to her. He climbed back in the vent and went to the next room over, (a control room, she said.), where his job was to beat the absolute hell out of some control panel and rip wires out of it until it stopped making noise. So he did.

After that, she claimed that he’d done it. She said something, told him a number of how many kids he’d saved, but he didn’t hear it. He threw up again in that room.

He blindly followed her orders back to the medical room he’d been in, and switched from curtained area to curtained area, narrowly avoiding all of the scrambling doctors and scientists who were trying to figure out why everything had stopped working. He was numb, blank, and he didn’t feel much of anything until Charlie directed him into one of the privacy curtains — the fourth one on the seventh row.

And when he opened it, all the feelings and stuff he’d been trying to keep an arm's length away slammed back into place inside of him.

Because Asten was laying in the bed.

He was hooked up to all the same machines as everybody else, but his blood wasn’t moving through the tubes anymore. His chest was rising and falling; somewhat quickly, but it didn’t matter to Bentley, as long as it was. He looked almost as white as a sheet of paper, and his lips were slightly blue from the loss of blood. But he was there.

Bentley made a sound akin to a wheeze as every emotion he'd ever felt in his life washed over him. He wanted to cry and scream and smile and kill something and dance and all kinds of things that, when he felt them all at once, simply resulted in him standing there.

“Through the curtain to your left, Bentley, there’s a tray with a few syringes on it; it’s a reversal drug. It will wake him up from the anesthesia. You can do it, okay?”

With a few poor excuses of breaths, Bentley swiped open the curtain next to him, trying hard not to look at the teenage boy in the bed. He scoured the small space for syringes instead, and he found them, on a small cart next to the quiet machines.

He grabbed one, turned around, and jammed it into Asten’s arm.

It took a little bit — maybe two minutes or so? — before he groaned lightly, his green eyes fluttering slowly open.

“Asten,” Bentley whispered, heading to the other side of the bed and starting to pull all the needles and tubing out of his arm. Asten stirred more, probably at the pain, his green irises flicking around until they finally landed on Bentley’s face.

“B’ntley?”

“Asten,” He breathed, a sense of relief washing over him that nearly made him bawl again. Asten went about sitting up, but proved to be really weak, so Bentley had to help him by hiding his back off the mattress. As soon as he was sitting upright, Bentley hugged him as tight as he dared. 

“Bentley,” Asten continued. His arms came up very vaguely, and Bentley felt him grab onto his jumpsuit gently, his head lolling down onto his shoulder seemingly by itself. “M’ feel like shit.”

“Me, too,” Bentley muttered. “But we have to get out of here, okay? We have to get out of here. We have to leave.”

“You’ve created a distraction with the pump failure, and Rockie’s creating a massive diversion himself. If you go now, toward the exit that goes to your building, I can keep all the stragglers off of you. You’re home free.”

Bentley, as badly as he wanted to hold onto Asten and never let go ever, pulled away after a few seconds. “Can you stand?”

Asten didn’t say anything, but he did push himself off of the bed and onto the floor; which was immediately followed by the buckling of his weak knees and Bentley having to muster up strength enough to catch him himself. 

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Bentley mumbled, trying his damn hardest to bare Asten's weight with his weak body. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Asten merely whined: “Bentley.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” He continued, pulling one of Asten's arms around his shoulders in an attempt to keep him upright. "Just try to walk as best you can okay?"

"Okay..."

"All you have to focus on is getting out, I promise. I'll keep everything else away. All you have to do is walk," Charlie said in his head. "You're going to come out of his privacy curtain and go right, down the walkway -- then left. The door is there."

Bentley, with some sort of strength he had to be getting from a place he didn't even know of, pushed himself and Asten out of the makeshift hospital room and out into the walkways, following Charlie's directions as best he could. After the right and left turn, and a little bit of a walk, the door to the room was there -- it led back to the main hallway. The bright one, that led all the way back to his building.

One long hallway, and then they were out.

"Only focus on walking, Bentley," Charlie reminded. "You're done fighting. I've got you."

Bentley didn't do anything but obey her. He opened the door with the keycard and went out into the hall. The gunshots were still audible, but had faded further away, so much so that they sounded like something different. Or maybe that noise was his ears ringing.

With every single step, Bentley was pushing towards complete failure. He could feel his strength slipping away like someone had shot a hole in the tank -- everything that had been bearing down on him for the past month; the stress, the sickness, the lack of self-preservation, the fear, the neglect; it was all coming back to haunt him at the worst time in the worst way. Asten's life depended on him, and here he was, sick and weak and hardly able to think a coherent sentence through the absolute agony that he was embodying.

Still, somehow, he kept walking. He wasn't sure what it was that was pushing him on; determination, or willpower, or spite, or fear, or hope. He couldn't decide what feeling was most prominent in the tornado that was him. He merely focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and holding Asten up, for a long, long time.

Until they made it a mere ten yards from the stairs and exit, so close he could see it, so close he could practically feel the EM field begging to give him his power back...

Asten said something.

"B, I'm... about to pass out,"

And then he did.

It took every ounce of strength left inside of Bentley to keep him from hitting the floor when he fell. The second pair of legs that had been somewhat spurring him on turned into dead weight in a split second. Bentley managed to grab him under the arms and pull him off to the side -- into a small hallway, the last small hallway before they made it out.

"Asten," He mumbled as he laid him down on the floor. He was still pale as snow, and still breathing, but completely unconscious.

Bentley grabbed at his shoulders and touched him, tried to poke and prod him back into consciousness, fighting off a horrendous migraine and the urge to vomit. "Asten, we're almost out, come on. Please. We're almost done."

Cli-click.

"Get away from him. Hands up in the air,"

Bentley drew in a sudden breath and grew eerily still at the sound of a gun being chambered behind him.

"Now. Get up,"

He knew that voice. He knew it, and he'd known it would come back to haunt him.

Slowly, hands raised in the air, he stood up, leaving Asten's limp form on the floor -- a silent hope that he would be left alone.

Bentley looked up. Back into the bright main hallway.

And there stood Mr. Keene. His math teacher. Dr. Keene's little brother. With a big, shiny pistol, aimed right at Bentley's head, and big, amber eyes instead of grey-blue, visible behind big glasses.

He flicked the gun to the left. "Well? Come into the light. Don't make any sudden moves."

Bentley stepped gingerly back into the main hallway with his hands up near his head, keeping his eye trained on the barrel of the gun as it followed his every movement, puppeteered his direction. He could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. His breaths were trying to force themselves in and out with a violence, but he didn't let them.

"Please," He mumbled. "Please. Just let us go."

"You destroyed my family. What are we supposed to do now? Let our legacy die because one kid couldn't follow the rules?" He asked; though Bentley realized it was probably her talking more than him. "I can't let you leave. Your story ends here, now, Bentley Whittaker."

"Bentley Wayne," He corrected. The gun was shaking in the man's hand, but stayed pointed at his head anyway, hovering probably eight or ten feet away from him.

"You ran from me, you cried because of me, you fought me, and you deceived me," The man mumbled, a look of relief, of contentment crossing his features. "And now... you'll die by my hand. It's the only ending. The only true way this story can end."

"Charlie-"

"THAT'S NOT MY NAME!" She roared through the man's mouth, the gun trembling vigorously in his hand. "I have no name. I am no one. I am everyones worst nightmare, and their perfect dream. And you, Bentley Wayne," He spat, she spat. "Are going... to sleep."

Bentley watched the barrel of the gun tremble as his grip tightened on the weapon, to pull the trigger, and-

Someone stepped in front of him.

"No,"

It was Asten.

"Get out of the way, boy," The man with the amber eyes ordered.

By the looks of it, Asten was having a hard enough time keeping himself up as it was. With his own head settling right between Bentley's and the barrel of the gun, his body begging to give out so badly Bentley could practically hear it. He was mere moments from collapse. They all knew. But even then, he didn't move.

Bentley stepped forward. "Asten, move."

"...No,"

"Asten,"

"No,"

"Get out of my way," The Secret Keeper growled through the man's mouth. "Or I'll shoot through both of you."

"Asten, move," Bentley ordered, his eyes burning, heart slamming around in his chest. "Asten, please, move."

"No,"

"Asten!"

"No,"

BANG!

Bentley and Asten and even the man with the gun flinched when the shot sounded, so loud and deafening it seemed to reverberate through the facility halls. Bentley's world spun, and his vision suddenly had dots swimming in it, though he didn't feel any pain.

Thump.

He forced his body to work. Forced his vision to return. Forced his brain to come back on.

The man with the gun was laying on the floor, the back of his head blown wide open, coating the white floor with crimson.

Red Hood was standing a few meters behind his corpse, pistol outstretched and smoking at the barrel.

"Jason," Bentley mumbled, taking a few steps forward in disbelief, settling just in front of Asten. "Asten, its Jason."

Chloe had done it.

They were going to be okay.

Bentley took another step toward the vigilante, but his socked foot nudged something that dinged across the white floor.

Bentley glanced down at it.

A bullet casing.

A gold bullet casing, right near his foot, rolling lazily across the floor from where he'd kicked it.

His eyes trailed to the dead man, from his exploded head to his hands, to the pistol on the floor a few feet from him, which had smoke slowly seeping from its barrel.

"...Bentley?"

Bentley turned around, his gaze catching on Asten's face. It was whiter than before; his green eyes were blown wide and glistening with something he couldn't place. His mouth was hung open in shock. His hands were hovering in the air near his torso, uncertainly, and-

There was a really, really large stain of crimson growing there.

Bentley's entire world came crashing down on his head as soon as he realized.

He lurched forward just in time to catch Asten before he hit the white tile, all but falling with him, keeping him from hitting the floor. He tried to make words but he couldn't; the only coherent noise that managed to escape him was a desperate scream:

"Jason!"

A mere second and the vigilante was by his side. Red Hood all but ripped his helmed off with a thunk, uncaring, tossing it to the side and letting it bounce across the floor with the sound of metal on tile.

"Talk to him," Jason ordered, his black and white hair frazzled and damp from the helmet, his face trained into neutrality even though Bentley knew him good enough to see the panic through it. "Talk to him, Bentley."

Bentley looked down at Asten. He was sort of laying across his lap, and Bentley had his head gathered in his hands, cradling it close to his chest, keeping him from looking down at the wound Jason was now putting pressure on. Jason spoke to someone, but it wasn't him. Did he have an earpiece in?

Asten kept taking quick, ragged breaths, and his hands, soaked with blood, came up to hold onto Bentley's arms that were around his head. "I guess..." He sort of gasped, sort of choked. "I guess that... plot armor isn't so thick a...anymore, huh?"

Bentley could feel the way his entire body seemed to be buzzing and trembling, and so he held his head higher to his own chest, brushing a couple of fingers across the hair near his forehead in a means of comfort. "It... It, it isn't... Its..."

"It's okay," Asten mumbled, his green eyes staying trained on Bentley's, his hands gripping harder at his arms. "It's okay. I'm okay, B, don't.. don't be scared. I'm okay."

Jason was talking. Bentley didn't hear it. Someone skidded into Bentley's view, a little ways down the hallway. A quick flinch and glance up revealed that it was Rockie, bloody and looking suddenly sick, with Layla wrapped tightly around one arm. His inhuman green eyes were scouring Asten's frame and when they met Bentley's, they were brimming with tears.

"It's okay," Asten continued to ramble shakily, grabbing and gripping at Bentley's arms sort of frantically, leaving blood everywhere. "It's okay. I'm okay."

His entire torso was red. Jason's hands were red. Bentley could see it in his peripheral.

"Asten..." Bentley said, vibrating from terror and adrenaline, unable to produce any real sentences. "Asten."

"It's okay. I'm okay. Don't look at it. It's okay," Asten continued to ramble, balling up Bentley's sleeves in his hands, keeping his eyes trained solely on Bentley's. For some reason, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile. A moment of silence passed.

"That's funny," He snickered quietly, his green eyes building with tears that fell over, down the sides of his face not a second later. "It... It doesn't hurt. Is Summer here?"

Bentley tried to ignore the fact that the entire right side of his peripheral vision was red. "Jason is," Bentley gritted out.

"Jason," Asten seemed to snap into reality a little bit more at the realization, and he tried to look down at Jason, at his torso, but Bentley's grip around his neck and head wouldn't let him. "Jason."

"I'm right here," Jason said. It sounded well-trained and vigilante like, but it wobbled at the end, and Bentley caught it.

"Jason," Asten seemed to relax his struggling to look for him, instead, just turning his gaze back up into Bentley's eyes. "Jason. I'm scared."

"It's going to be alright, okay? Just keep talking to us," Jason ordered.

"Jason. I'm scared," He repeated. "Is it... dark? I don't like the dark."

"Asten-"

"What is it like?" He asked, though his eyes were trained solely on Bentley's. "Is it dark?"

"Don't be afraid," Jason continued. Bentley realized that he'd stopped moving so much. Not a few seconds later he was on the opposite side of Asten, leaning forward so Asten could see his face. Why wasn't he tending to the wound anymore? "It's just like falling asleep."

Asten blinked, a few more tears falling down the sides of his face. "I don't wanna fall asleep."

He reached numbly for Jason with bloody hands until Jason peeled his crimson gloves off and grabbed them, holding them tightly so the three of them were just a tangle of arms with Asten's head in the middle.

"There's... something you need to tell Bruce," Asten said, his eyes flicking over to Jason, then back to Bentley. "You... you have to tell him I changed my mind, okay? He asked me, but... but I told him no, I don't... I don't know why I did that..."

"What is it, buddy?" Jason asked softly. "What do you want us to tell him?"

"That I changed my mind," Asten suddenly coughed, a little bit of blood splattering from his lips onto his chin. "That I do want... I do want to be..."

He gasped strangely, and an unidentifiable expression crossed his features.

"That you want to be what?" Jason pressed.

Asten looked over at him, and smiled slightly, with crimson stained teeth. A few more tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. "A Wayne."

Jason choked.

Jason choking was the last thing Bentley heard before Asten's arms, tangled up in both of theirs, went slack, and he went completely limp in his grip.

Silence ensued.

"Asten," Bentley muttered, cradling his head closer to his chest, lifting it up, higher. "Asten."

Asten's eyes were looking at nothing.

"Asten," Bentley tried again, softly, holding tight to him and blinking. He looked down at him and brushed his hair away again with a few fingers. "Asten."

Asten never moved.

Bentley stopped saying his name. Instead, he just pulled him closer, and Jason held his hands, and Bentley let his own head fall until his face was hidden in his black and blue hair.

And he didn't move.

Asten Evans...

was dead.

--

HOLY SHIT

tag list that KINDA works

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy @bookwarm0-0

@custommadeazula

[elrielbaby]

Here is my incredibly late entry to @elainarcheronweek 2024, for the day 4 prompt, home. I hope you enjoy, and the link to Ao3 is at the bottom 😊❤️

Elain stood in her bed chambers at the River House, almost glowing with excitement. Nuala stood behind her, buttoning up her gown as Cerridwen painted her lips a soft pink, only a shade or two deeper than her natural colour. Her cheeks had been pinched slightly, and her eyelashes elongated. It was almost time.

Nesta and Feyre sat upon the bed, watching her with an almost reverent expression on their faces. They were already dressed and prepared to go. Nesta wore a gown the colour of roses, with a high neck and full skirts that would no doubt look even more beautiful when she danced later. She loved watching Nesta dance. Feyre’s dress was midnight blue, with gossamer sleeves, and the lower parts of the dress falling in almost a whimsical fashion even seated. Both of their bouquets of white roses, violets and pink peonies sat beside them.

Nuala came to face Elain as she’d finished buttoning up her gown to stand beside her twin. They both looked at her, their eyes brimming with tears.

“You look so beautiful” Nuala whispered.

“Obviously she does. We’re the ones who made her up” Cerridwen joked.

Elain laughed and turned to face the full-length mirror that stood behind her.

She wore a white satin dress, with long sleeves inlaid with lace and a scooped neck. Her hair had been pinned up into an elaborate braid that sat on the back of her head vertically, flowers pinned into it artfully.

Nesta stood, a veil in hand. She came behind Elain to tuck it in to the top of her braid.

“I am so proud of you” She murmured into Elain’s ear as she pressed a light kiss to her cheek. Feyre came to her other side, and did the same.

“Now, lets go get you hitched”

Azriel was waiting in the garden. The River House garden to be precise. He had never been so nervous, he was fidgety, playing with his hands and pacing.

“Could you please stand still? You’re making me nervous” Cassian moaned

Azriel scoffed “Cassian, need I remind you of your behaviour during your own wedding? You almost had a break down because, if I recall correctly, someone had decorated with lilies when you had insisted upon daffodils”

Cassian rolled his eyes and muttered “Lilies play havoc with my allergies.”

The infamous Spymaster of the Night Court smiled. Cassian was the smartest idiot he knew and he loved him dearly. He realised he’d stopped pacing.

Theirs was to be a small wedding, which both he and Elain were more than content with. They had everyone they wanted there: Rhys, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, Mor, Nyx, Amren (who had invited Varian), Nuala and Cerridwen.

The priestess who had performed Nesta and Cassian’s wedding and mating ceremony stood before them in her robes, hood largely covering her face, but the invoking stone could be made out shining proudly on her forehead.

The rest of the garden looked like a dream, in full bloom and cultivated so lovingly by his beloved. The sun was shining and just the right number of chairs were placed in a neat row on either side of a makeshift aisle.

Azriel, Cassian and Rhys all wore a similar style of suit, black pants, white shirt followed by a black jacket with a pink rose pinned to the lapels. Cassian had bemoaned being in a suit again, claiming he’d worn enough suits for this century, and bemoaned again at the flower being pinned to his jacket, claiming he’d be sneezing all throughout the ceremony. Elain had soon shut him up when in his package that had contained the suit and flower, there was a bottle of what she had called ‘allergy powder’ similar to that of the headache powder she had made for Azriel on that first solstice, when Azriel had dared to hope she might feel something for him too. He wasn’t sure whether it was her powers of foresight or that fact she just knew Cassian that prompted her to provide it for him. Most likely the latter.

Mor, Nyx in her arms, Amren and Varian arrived taking their seats on one side. Mor looked at him and beamed with pride, suddenly jumping up to give him what Azriel could only describe as a one-armed bear hug. She pulled back and looked at him, tears shone in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you” she whispered, Nyx babbling on her hip.

There would have been a time that such affection from Mor would have his heart stuttering, pulse racing. Now he had no more affection for her than that of a sister. He had been slowly letting go of those more romantic affections for her for years of course, but then Elain came along and Azriel suddenly knew what true love was.

Elain had captured his heart from almost the moment he had met her. It had not been instant and all consuming (as it now was) but slow and gentle.

He was first struck by how beautiful she was, when they met in the human lands. That beauty had only been enhanced since she’d turned Fae, but he’d always found her beautiful.

Then he’d been struck by her gentleness, her kindness. She brought him peace in a way he’d never known and he felt like he could talk to her forever. As time passed, he was again struck by her quiet fury, her determination and her strong inclination toward the hope that things could only get better. She was wise beyond her years, observant in a way he’d only ever seen in two other people: Nuala and Cerridwen.

Slowly, that initial attraction and ease turned to friendship, and that friendship turned into something more. Azriel didn’t give two shits what anyone else said, be that some guy on the street, the Cauldron, or the Mother herself; Elain was his Mate of the soul. She was his love, and his love for her was undying. It surpassed anything Azriel had ever felt before, and he would be her husband and she his wife until his last breath.

Rhys had been wary when he’d first found out. In all honesty, he didn’t blame him. He’d never opened up to him on his feelings of a romantic nature. Rhys knew obviously, that Azriel had once loved Mor and up until very recently had thought he still did. Rhys was protective of Elain in a way, probably because she reminded him so much of his own sister. But it was more than that Azriel knew, there were too many potential fall outs that could happen if Elain and Azriel were to pursue each other. But Rhys was his brother, and his brother wanted him desperately to be happy. Once it had been put to Rhys that had the roles been reversed, and it was he and Feyre in this situation what would he do?

Azriel supposed that putting it that way to Rhys let him know how serious he really was about her. And so, Rhys came around. He was still wary of the aftermath of this, but he had told them both they would have his full support and they would meet it head on.

“I’m being summoned.” Rhys said, his head tilted in a way that told him Feyre was speaking in to his mind.

Rhys walked up to him, clasped him on the shoulder and pulled him in for a hug, then winnowed into the River House.

The music started, and petals started to fall gracefully from the trees. Azriel took a deep breath, and faced the priestess.

Rhys appeared directly in front of her beside the door into the garden.

“Are you ready?” Rhys said, holding out his arm.

Elain gave him a full grin, her eyes watery from emotion “I’ve never felt more prepared” she said.

Nuala and Cerridwen walked out first, their bouquets in hand, in their pink and purple gowns. Then Feyre and Nesta walked out, Nesta taking her spot beside Cassian who stood to Azriel’s right, Feyre next to her.

Elain and Rhys stepped out into the garden. Azriel looked so beautiful, in his suit, his hair falling in waves – she couldn’t wait to plunge her hands in to it later.

He looked at her, tears streaming down his face, which in turn set Elain crying.

They had faced so much to get here. The lies, the sneaking around, the wondering if they could ever properly be together. And here they were, in front of all those they held dear finally being able to profess their love from the very rooftops if they so wished.

They’d finally reached Azriel, the music stopping. Rhys took Elain’s hand, gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek and pressed her hand into Azriel’s outstretched palm. She had eyes for only him. She stroked his thumb with hers as their hands were joined.

“Hi” she said

“Hi back,” he replied “you look more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

He took a step closer so that he could whisper in her ear “how precious are you about the buttons on this dress?”

Elain’s cheeks heated, and she swatted him playfully on the shoulder

“You rogue” she chuckled.

The priestess cleared her throat and began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

They exchanged vows, promising to love each other in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse – and then they made their own personal vows to one another. Azriel led the charge. His hand in hers.

“Elain. I love you, and I will love you until we are but whispers in the wind – and in that whisper you will hear the story of us, of how I loved you with every bit of my heart and my soul. I wish never to be parted from you in this life or the next. It is my dream to come home to you every night and to talk to you into the small hours about all things. Your burdens are my burdens, your cares my cares. I will love what you love, and dream what you dream. I am yours from now, until the stars wither in the sky and the sun goes cold. You are my greatest joy, for now and always.”

Elain couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. Now it was her turn.

“Azriel. I love you, and I will love you until my heart ceases beating and my lungs no longer draw enough air to speak your name. I will love you through this life, and endeavour to find you in the next. You are my home, my greatest gift. I wish for nothing more than to share a life with you, come what may. A home, children – I want it all, and I want it with you. You no longer need to carry things alone, for I am here to help you. We face this life together, and nothing or no one will stop us.”

Now they were all crying, Amren included. Even Varian appeared misty eyed.

They exchanged rings, and as their hands clasped and the priestess offered up a prayer to the mother a strange phenomenon occurred. Elain had felt an oddness in the air, not unpleasant but as if someone else were here with them. As the priestess spoke to the Mother, everyone gasped as they noticed the faint outline of a hand pressed atop Elain and Azriel’s.

The Priestess stopped. “The Mother approves of this union” she said solemnly but with all confidence. Azriel gave Elain a watery smile. He didn’t honestly care if she approved or not, but it was nice that she did.

“You are now joined as husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Azriel wasted no time, both hands on the side of Elain’s face as he drew her in for a kiss. It was all their kisses rolled into one. Sweet and tender, desperate and all consuming. His tongue slid into her mouth, deepening the kiss. Cassian wolf whistled, Mor whooped. Feyre and Nesta wiped tears from their eyes and then everyone was upon them, congratulating them.

“Listen, I know all you two want to do is go home, but I’m starving and Nesta has forbade me from the wedding cake until you’ve cut it, so, please?” Cassian gave them a pleading look, Nesta nudging him with her elbow.

Elain smiled. “Lucky for you Cass, there’s a full three course meal about to be served. Then cake.”

Cass swooped down and gave her a kiss on the cheek “You’ve always been my favourite” he grinned

“Hey!” Feyre shouted, chasing him into the River House.

They ate like Kings and Queens. Prawn cocktail to start, followed by roast beef and a mountain of vegetables, then treacle sponge and custard to finish. Everyone was positively stuffed by the time the cake cutting rolled around, which Elain and Azriel tried to get to expeditiously. They loved their family but they wanted to be alone.

Once that was done, they hurried through the goodbyes and stepped into Azriel’s shadows. They landed just in front of the doors to the Townhouse.

“This,” Azriel said “is our wedding present from Rhys. Welcome home”

Elain was stunned into speechlessness. It was absurdly generous, even by Rhys’ standards. But she’d always loved this house. It was where her new life truly began.

Azriel stooped to grab Elain behind her knees, whisking her into his arms, one arm supporting her back the other her knees.

He walked across the threshold with her in his arms, eyes on her the whole time. He set her down. Elain looked around the new home from the hallway. Azriel took her hand and she looked down at them, her hand in his.

“Beautiful” she whispered.

[blondebitch7k]

Was there something dumb you and Reagal-bagle (ig were calling her that🤣) have done and got caught by Varian or her parents?

Bonus points if you two ran away and hid from either of them so you guys didn't get in trouble🤪

(Also plzzzzz tell whoever writes to make something of Don and Cyrus meeting Reagal-bagle and Nicky🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️(if not I will👀))

Pheeeeeeeew, this actually happened quite recently.

So yall remember that fun little tattoo and belly button piercing I gave Rae? Yeah, so her parent ended up finding out abt it when we went swimming and she forgot to cover them up soooooooo

We're still in hiding, Olivia's getting supplies (aka, ice cream, nail polish and mlp DVD's)

@nurus-future-wife, I also blame you for this, rat.

Blonde bitch out! ✨️🏳️‍🌈💅

(ooc: as a member of the writing team, I will fight for this)