#fanfic writers secret santa

[blackwolfstabs]

Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alkivm

ONE NORMAL NIGHT

In the heart of winter and in the dead of night, you and Wednesday share the woods.

fandom: Wednesday (2022) pairing: Wedesnday Addams × Fem!Vampire!Reader a/n: this is my 1st × reader ever so i'm feeling very insecure about it.. however, i wanted to do something up your alley, Alk. i also wanted to write from Wednesday because i knew writing something of Sam would be too predictable of me haha. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

You slid into the partially dark dorm room that held your girlfriend’s strong scent. For someone as dark and mysterious as Wednesday, you never expected her to have a smell that was actually calming. However, this made it easier for you to find her. Being a vampire allowed you the same nose the werewolves had. Maybe even better, in your opinion…

Speaking of werewolves, Enid’s side of the room was the dark side, for once. She must’ve been out with her girl pack. This led you to immediately find Wednesday seated at her desk with a lit lamp as the clicking of the typewriter keys echoed off the walls. Her writing time, you presumed with a small smirk and shake of your head. It was part of her nightly routine. 

But you were looking for a night where they could just be with each other. It had snowed all day, but with the dark that you both adored, came clear skies and moonlight that made the snow sparkle. Wednesday, of course, didn’t care for sparkly things, but you hadn’t seen anything more vintage in decades. And you wanted to share that with her.

You wanted one normal night.

She never stopped typing, her black eyes undivided, but there was something about the way her shoulders braced that told you that she knew you were there. So, you approached her, but before you could speak, she did.

“What is it, Y/N?” she asked flatly. “You know this is my—”

“Yes, yes, I know. This is your writing time,” you cut her off as you stopped behind her chair and leaned against it. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a walk through the woods? We’ve been shut indoors all day because of the snowfall, and the moon is rather beautiful tonight.” You heard her give a short huff, which encouraged you to follow up with, “Almost as beautiful as you…”

Wednesday scoffed as she felt you lean down and kiss her cheek. You had just been outside, on your way over, so your lips were cold against her warm skin. It made her pull away slightly, “Oh, please, your pick-up lines are aging on me.” But even she had her own jokes to turn around on you, and she glanced up to tease, “Almost as much as you.”

To be fair, you did not see that coming as you looked away in mock offense. “You've been waiting to spring that one on me, haven’t you?”

She shrugged and went back to her writing, “Not really. You just fell into the trap.”

“Sly psychic,” you rolled your eyes.

“Dumb vampire.”

God, the way she just threw back words in any situation that made her charisma grow had your vampire instincts tingling. It made you frisky and longing for a hunt. However, if Wednesday followed your lead, you could take the thirst just to have one night with her. “Please?” you hated to beg, yet here you were doing it for her. “Can’t you spare one day of cutting your writing time short?”

Your borderline-desperate tone made her give a small smirk, and that gave you a little bit of hope. You had other plans for that night anyway, so you would make sure she’d show her side of the duality you had gotten the pleasure to know.

“Let me finish this paragraph,” she eventually gave in. 

You let her do so without trouble, pacing around the room like a caged tiger while you waited. And then she stood up from her chair and turned around to catch you looking at her.

“You’ve got the patience of a saint.” The sarcasm was thick in her flat tone.

You just shrugged and nodded to the tunic-length jacket that was lying on her bed, “That should be warm enough for you.”

The raven gave you an uncertain look as she went to retrieve it and slip it on. “Sometimes, I think you forget that I’m not a vampire,” she commented, clearly not convinced one jacket would keep her warm in the snowy wilderness.

“Never,” you assured her. When she turned around and approached you with her dark eyes trying to figure out the million thoughts behind your glowing ones, you gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll keep you warm.” 

She didn’t look convinced. “I’m thrilled.” Then again, she never did.

You never took that personally from her. After all, she was the one to insinuate a relationship that was more than friends. She had even stolen the first kiss between you two. As uninterested as she tried to seem, you knew she was curious about what you had in mind. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have followed you out.

The bitter cold of the winter night suited you just fine as you stepped out of the heated indoors and shook your head out to relish the chilly freedom. You sighed in delight, before looking over your shoulder to see Wednesday pacing up next to you. 

She blinked unsteadily, the breeze stinging her eyes and cheeks as her bangs were swept aside. She crossed her arms and hugged them against her chest. “It had to be tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, come on, Wednesday, it’s not that bad!” You gave her a playful nudge. “You just need to get that warm blood pumping,” you then teased, your breed leaving you immune to the freeze.

She just growled in annoyance, which made you decide to take the first step—well, more like the second step now… “So, try and keep up,” you told her, then raced away into the woods.

It must have caught her off-guard, because she immediately followed hot in pursuit. “Y/N!” It was like she hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was rushing into a game of Tag, like it was a mindless effort that sent her after you.

Her calls made you run faster, weaving through the trees like a trained dog in agility, and you let out a triumphant howl that sent the crows scattering into the night sky. In return, you actually got a few calls back from the werewolves scouting the forest as well. “Hey, Wednesday!” you hollered over your shoulder, “you think one of those is your roommate?!”

You could hear your girlfriend’s panting grow louder as she flanked you a few yards back. “No!” she answered, “Enid wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of cold!”

“But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?!” Being an Addams gave you so much freedom to joke about death, considering you were already dead inside. It was meant to be.

“Not tonight, Y/N!”

You just laughed and raced on, filing deeper and farther into the world of forestry that almost shielded the moonlight. The wind seemed to be going 100 miles per hour against your skin, making a million scents bathe your tongue every time you breathed in. 

And then the scent of fur and fresh-kill caught your senses. You were gaining too close to the werewolves, so you figured this was a good place to stop.

Wednesday, on the other hand, didn’t have as keen a sense of smell, which kept her racing on. She couldn’t see you anymore, but she had done that dance before. The amount of times she’d run through this very forest was unimaginable, especially with a destination known or unknown in mind. She wasn’t afraid of running through the dark; however, the crisp cold air was taking a toll on her lungs. She called out for you, slowing down to catch her breath. “Y/N?!”

Compared to the way she’d sounded a few minutes ago, back at the dorm, she wasn’t so uptight about everything. And that was where you wanted her.

The raven slowed all the way, when she didn’t receive a response from you. She glanced around as she trotted forward. “Y/N?” Her panting was silenced among the breeze and so was your movement in the low branch of the nearest tree.

When she passed it, you grabbed her arm and pulled it towards the trunk. She yelped and spun around, yanking her arm away to look up and meet your golden eyes. “Sorry,” you giggled, releasing her to comb your wind-tossed hair back with one hand. 

Her voice went back to its natural, monotoned-self. “Why are you in a tree?”

“We’re too close to the werewolves,” you nearly whispered the explanation. Then, you held your hand out to her. “Come on, I’ll help you up.” 

The gold shimmer in your eyes struck the lightest reflection in hers as she took it and let you pull half of her weight up onto the same branch.

You knew she wasn’t the most comfortable person with heights without being guarded by some sort of railing, so you made sure she was steady before you continued to lead the way up. Being a vampire, your agility and strength were reliable. You could weave quicker through the limbs. And once you reached almost ¾-ths of the way up, you crouched to check on your girlfriend.

Despite her size and normal human strength, she actually kept up well, only being a few branches below. However, being the lady vampire you were, you had lived for a few centuries. So, chivalry was definitely not dead in your era, just evolved out of the strictly-male ideals. “Wednesday!” She paused her climbing to glance up at you, which made you hold your hand out to her again. “I got you.” The cold must have been biting at her because she grabbed your hand with no hesitation, and you lifted her up, wrapping one arm around her waist to safely bring her to your level. 

She wouldn’t admit it, but the raven was relieved that you had the decency to allow her to be closest to the tree trunk. She glanced down, almost nervously, but left it undetectable as she asked, “Is there any reason why you insist on being so high up?”

“No one can see us from up here.” 

She shifted skeptically. 

“I thought you liked being uncomfortable,” you smirked. You caught the way she curved her fingers into the bark, threatening to clutch it if the branch that held them teased a crack or two.

Wednesday gave a slightly flustered sigh. “The last time I was in a tree, things didn’t go so well.” When she looked your way again, the moon light dappling through the trees made her eyes show a shade of brown that wasn’t common in her natural aesthetic. 

It took some of the frost away from the cold that you didn’t realize you could feel until that deep gaze met yours. Her frame looked even smaller as she backed up to secure herself against the trunk, which you knew she did to brace herself in case anything happened. You softened your voice as you moved closer to her. “I won’t let you fall,” the words came so naturally, it was almost considered pure.

She blinked at you. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Y/N…” 

You stopped a short distance from her, close enough to see what she hoped you wouldn’t: her desire for comfort. You slid one hand around her waist and the other over her cheek to block the winter breeze. “Here’s my promise,” you whispered, then pulled her into a gentle kiss.

To your surprise, she fell into it instantly, almost as if she was thinking of the same thing. She must have felt secure in your arms, for she then put her arms around your torso. And through the kiss, you smiled. 

She pulled away. “Is that all you got?” she tested you, looking away and over your shoulder to bait you into moving elsewhere than her lips.

You took in a deep breath, and her scent was so strong that you could almost taste her… You felt your golden gaze start to burn and your mouth start to salivate. There was a surge of power that entwined your bloodstream, and the thrill to drink made you stare at her open neck. Well… almost open. “Are you teasing me, Ms. Addams?” you asked her as you dipped your head towards the crook of her neck and nosed her braid over her shoulder, fully exposing her warm skin. 

“Bite me, Y/LN,” she almost purred into your ear. It was supposed to be a tease, but it came out more as a command.

But it was your pleasure, regardless. “Not until we’re in bed, my cold-hearted darling,” you replied, then pressed your lips to her neck. It was hard not to bite her right now. Just a little taste of that sweet drink that came out of the most savage student in Nevermore Academy would have sufficed. But you wouldn’t. Not now. For now, you forced yourself to only kiss and suckle her skin in a slow trail down her neck, but you did manage to let your fangs nip her every now and then.

All the while, Wednesday laid her head on your shoulder, sighing through the treatment with small moans, while her black nails curled into your spine when your fangs would catch her soft skin. 

It was the perfect mix of Heaven and Hell.

It was angelic and demonic.

It was sweet and stubborn.

It was you and Wednesday…

On this one normal night.

merry christmas/happy holidays alk! i hope this made you smile and i'm wishing you a very pleasureable rest of the season. thank you for being such a supportive friend 🎄✨🎁

- parker (BWS)

[superficialdomina]

Unwrapped

A secret Santa gift for @glitchquake ❤️❤️

Summary: An Avenger/Time Lord!Loki x fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, fluffy/smutty one-shot.

My masterlist

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+; minors DNI! Explicit smut, PIV, oral sex (f receiving). A smidgen of angst.

Author's Note: Darling @glitchquake, merry Christmas!! 🎄🎄🎁🎁I had so much fun with this prompt and with weaving in some little Easter eggs (or should they be candy canes!?!!) just for you. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating it.

And another thank you to the wonderful @fictive-sl0th for arranging this terrific Secret Santa. I was so glad to be a part of it!! (Readers, you can find the Secret Santa 2023 Master List here).

Prompt: Walking in and seeing Loki wrapped in nothing but red ribbon under the Christmas tree and then you two do the do.

It had turned into a perfect Christmas decorating party. The smell of baking gingerbread filled the Tower common room, Mariah Carey was belting out the chorus to All I want for Christmas, and Nat was at this very moment balanced precariously on the top of a high-backed chair to add a glittery star to the apex of Stark's 12-foot Christmas tree. The rest of you had been happily adorning the tree - and the common room - for several hours, with all manner of baubles, candy canes, lights, and tinsel. Someone had made an early batch of eggnog, and a holiday buzz hung excitedly in the room.

You were humming along to Wham’s Last Christmas, when you caught Loki’s figure entering the room. He looked as disdainful as ever, although on this occasion, an air of skepticism coloured his general standoffishness.

“What,” he asked, distastefully running his fingers over the pink and green lights, “is this about?”

“It’s December 1st, Loki!” you beamed at him, ignoring his curmudgeonly attitude and generously wrapping a spare length of sparkly tinsel around his shoulders. “It’s a Christmas decorating party!”

Loki frowned, but a smirk lingered at the edges of his mouth; your enthusiasm was difficult to curb at the worst of times, and often proved infectious. He began to say something – probably characteristically barbed – before he spotted the small pile of gifts under the tree. “And tell me, darling - what are those?”

“Christmas gifts from Little Miss Festive over here,” Tony cut in, gesturing towards you with the glass of eggnog in his hand before thrusting it upon Loki. “There’s even one for you, Horns.”

Loki narrowed his eyes and turned to you, looking mildly suspicious. “What is it?”

“I’m not telling you, Loki!” You purse your lips in mock admonishment. “You can wait until Christmas eve like everyone else!”

“Why?” Loki asked.

“Tradition,” you said, with an air of finality that put an end to any further argument.

The tower’s Christmas eve party was in full swing. Tony’s fancy stakeholder party, full of elegant hors d’oeuvres and flowing champagne, had happened a few days earlier; to your relief, tonight’s event included only the live-in members of the Tower, with a few bonus loved ones here and there. It was delightfully warm and friendly. Thor was beaming widely at everyone around him, and he had not taken off the chunky red pompom beanie you had made him since he’d unwrapped it several hours earlier. Even Loki seemed to be enjoying himself.

“Congratulations on acing your finals, darling,” he had murmured to you when he first arrived. You’d looked at him in confusion; you’d finished your end-of-term exams only a few days ago, and you didn’t expect to know the results for several weeks.

“How do you- Loki, I haven’t even heard-“

“Oh, just something I picked up around the Timelines,” he added with a wink, as understanding finally dawned on you. If only my future-self had also been brave enough to tell him I’m madly in love with h-

But you wouldn’t think about that tonight. You’d been having such a wonderful time; for your first Christmas with the Avengers, you couldn’t have felt more at home. Yes, you were a little blue about your unrequited-love situation, but you were determined to focus on how lucky you were to be here. What wonderful friendships you had built this year! How magical it felt to be included, to belong! No, it wouldn’t do to dwell on the one thing, that one little thing…

Making gifts for your new chosen family had been so much fun. In addition to Thor’s beanie (which was now looking somewhat askew on his blonde head), you’d made long, checkered scarfs for Steve and Tony, a pretty maroon shawl for Wanda, and a pair of cute boot-cuffs for Nat. They’d all made very kind ooh-ing noises as they’d each unwrapped their little hand-made gifts from under the tree.

But the project that you were the most proud of was the gift you’d made for Loki: a pair of unbelievably soft, dark-green, fingerless gloves. You had worked incredibly hard on them. It had been slow and painstaking; the soft merino wool was so fine, and the needles so small, they made your hands cramp. The intricate cable-knit pattern you had learned specifically for this project was complicated, and you had pulled out your stitches on multiple occasions in the name of perfection. You only hoped that he would enjoy them. Speaking of which…

“Loki!” Thor boomed suddenly, grabbing the attention of most of the room. “Brother, there is a still a gift under the tree for you!”

Loki’s eyes darted to you, and he gave you a charming smile as he knelt down to pick up the small package. He unwrapped it gently, tentatively peeling back the brightly patterned paper until he held the gloves in his hands. You realized you were holding your breath as you waited for his response.

Loki didn’t look up; he traced the detailed curves of cable knit with one finger. “How – you made these? They’re… How are they so soft?”

You felt your face warming. “Made with love!” you joked, loosely patting his shoulder and laughing. But your laugh was cut short as you saw a look pass over Loki’s face. Oh no.

“Oh, haha – I don’t mean Love love,” you continued quickly. “You know, you’re my friend – friends. All of you. And I- you know, I love you - all.” The end of your sentence was lost in Thor’s smothering embrace, with generous hear-hears from the rest of the team as they chinked glasses and went back to their holiday chatter.

Loki had stood, but he continued to stare down at the open package in his hand. Did he not want them? What was wrong with them? Damn it, you cursed yourself, you should have just gotten him something simple! You didn’t mean the gloves to be any sort of grand gesture… You would never! Stupid. Why didn’t you just get him a cool iPhone case? Because he wouldn’t use it, you admitted to yourself, and anyway, what was wrong with giving your friends nice things and telling them that they were important to you? Nothing, you thought defiantly, and if Loki’s going to be all suspicious and grouchy about it then he can go –

But before you could open your mouth to give Loki the small lecture you were working up to, he had taken three long strides to the common room door and disappeared out into the hallway.

You were astonished. He just left?! Goddamn him and his shitty communication skills! If he’s that upset, he could at least talk to you about it. You talk to him about everything! Maybe that’s the problem, a cold voice muttered inside your head. You’d finally crossed over into “too much”. As usual.

No. No way. This wasn’t fair - he couldn’t just be mad at you and not even give you the chance to explain. Fuck it, you were going to fix this.

You followed Loki into the hall, but by the time you got through the crowded common room, he was well and truly in the lift. You furiously pressed the call button, repeatedly, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference to the speed of the damn thing. You watched the digital numbers slowly tick up to the 26th floor.

Finally, after an achingly slow ascent, you made it to Loki’s rooms and banged hard on his door.

“Loki!” you shouted through it. “Open up! You have to talk to me! You have to –"

The door was apparently unlocked; it swung open at your aggressive knocking, and you tentatively stepped into the darkened apartment.

“Loki?” you called, as you walked through the quiet rooms. You were sure he was here – you’d seen the elevator stop on this floor. And besides, where else would he go? “Loki! Loki, please, you have to talk to me. Please don’t be mad. You don’t have to wear them. You don’t even have to keep them. Goddammit Loki, where are you?” you almost shouted the last, as you pushed open his bedroom door.

You were immediately silenced by the sight in front of you.

Loki’s enormous, indulgent bed was decorated extravagantly in Christmas décor. Fairy lights tangled with fresh boughs of fir tree were entwined through the posts, dotted here and there with tiny silver baubles and bright red holly berries. Like a Christmas tree, you thought, mesmerized.

Loki sat underneath the elegantly twisted branches, leaning back against the ornate headboard, his head resting cheekily on one fist as he waited casually for you to spot him. One of his eternally long legs was crossed over the other at the knee.

He was wearing nothing but his trademark smirk and a modestly positioned bright red bow.

“Hello, darling,” he said softly. “Merry Christmas. I hope you like the gift I got you?”

“Loki, I- what? What is going on? How did you – you were barely minutes in front of me! How did you get into this getup so fast?”

Loki’s fingertips gave a little green crackle. Oh. Of course.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap it?” he asked darkly, his cocky smirk even wider.

“I…” Don’t analyse this too much, you told yourself, as you woodenly moved towards him. You reached out an arm to try to pull at the bow, but of course, with him perched in the centre of his enormous bed, you couldn’t quite reach; you lifted one knee onto the mattress, arm still outstretched for the bow… then the other…

Before you realized what was happening, Loki had taken your hands in his and pulled you towards him. He was sitting upright, and he gazed intently into your face, his eyes darting between yours as he quietly murmured to you. “Is this alright?”

You nodded dumbly. Alright? It was everything you had ever wanted – Loki, naked and stretched out before you like a banquet, with a comically large red bow hiding his –

Your eyes widened as you abruptly spotted exactly what the ribbon had been concealing; beneath it, Loki was rock hard. You caught yourself involuntarily wetting your lips with your tongue.   

The low, flickering glimmer cast by the Christmas lights was beautifully romantic, and you felt yourself melt into him as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear, cradling your head in his large hands and firmly pulling your face towards him. His mouth found yours, and your heart beat madly in your chest as he kissed you for the first time.

In all your wildest imaginings, it could never have been like this. His kiss was firm, but his lips were as soft as dew; the tongue gently exploring your mouth was skilled, but tender. Your hands reached for his hips, at last meeting the loose end of the red ribbon and pulling the bow free. Without breaking his kiss, he carefully laid you back on his bed.

Loki’s long, muscled body was now kneeling before you, his lean, strong thighs holding him steady above you as he used his hands to caress your body. It was more sensual that you had even been touched… had ever even dreamt of being touched. As rushes of hot, vivid lust reached every part of your skin, every drop of your blood, you realized you had also never felt so… so safe.

Loki pulled away from you, his perfect torso towering above you as he knelt between your legs. He gazed at you longingly as he slid a hand under each of your thighs. “May I?” he asked throatily.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice a bare whisper.

Loki didn’t hesitate, almost falling into you as he dipped his head to place his strong, clever tongue upon you. The bliss was immediate and exquisite. You felt yourself writhe under him, heard yourself whimper and moan as he deftly played his fingers over you, in you; every place he found to touch or kiss you came as the perfect note in the perfect order. In the few moments you allowed yourself to open your eyes, you were met with the beautiful scene of Christmas romance he had created above you… Created for you…

His fingers curled gently, knowing the speed and rhythm you needed, and you let him lead you on towards the sweet release he promised you. Your fingers found his raven hair and twisted their way into it, not meaning to pull, but inevitably losing control as he pushed you closer. He moaned wantonly as you tugged.

That was all he needed to pull you over the edge into orgasmic oblivion. You came hard, crying out, pulling his hair again in time with the unconscious pulsing of your pelvic floors. He didn’t stop, pulling you onwards, sucking and licking and pumping as your body continued to convulse, until you cried out again, pulling him away from you as the sensation became too much.

When you opened your eyes to see him above you, he was gazing at you hungrily.

“Loki…” you almost sobbed.

He brought his perfect, sculpted body close to yours; he expertly guided himself to you, the wetness generated by the magnificent orgasm he had given you allowing him to glide into you with ease, despite his generous girth. And when he was settled in you, fit so perfectly inside you, he finally gave in. With a deep growl, he began to move.

“Faster,” you moaned, begging him, needing him to give you more. The stretch you felt as your body accommodated him was magnificent.

His hands still roamed your body; his impressively sensitive touch finding pleasure in your pleasure. His beautiful dark curls hung sluttishly about his sharp face, loose and wild. With eyes closed, his thrusts messy, he chased release above you, until with a sharp groan, he came.

He took a few moments to compose himself, drawing in deep breaths, before opening his eyes to meet yours. In a single movement, he rolled to his side, slipping out of you and easily enfolding you in his long, strong arms, your back to his broad torso. Your chest began to rise and fall in time with his.

With a difficulty that was only partially due to the weight of his arm across you, you pulled yourself away from his chest and turned to face him.

“Loki - what happened? I followed you up here because I thought you were furious with me. Why did you leave in such a rush after you opened my gift? You didn’t like the gloves?”

“My darling,” Loki purred, pulling you tightly back into him. “I adore them. They are utterly perfect.” He gave a dramatic little sigh, and his fingertips traced invisible patterns on your back. “When I opened them, I was overwhelmed with gratitude and wonder. That you would give me something so beautiful… So me… The hours you must have spent meticulously crafting them. And then, that you did it for love…”

“Actually, I said with love,” you laughed.

His fingertips froze their pretty movements on your skin, and you looked up to see his face ashen. “Oh no! No, Loki, don’t be sad. I did… I mean, I do…”

You took a deep breath, and decided, finally, that honesty was the best policy.

“Loki, I do love you. I cherish you. I want to gift you a pair of green knit mittens every Christmas for as long as you’ll accept them.” You paused nervously. “But if you don’t- I mean, if you want to stay friends, I’ll… I’ll be OK… with that-“

“Dear heart,” he murmured into your hair, idly picking at the shreds of red ribbon strewn about you both. “I think we are a bit beyond that. Don’t you?”

“Well…” You chuckled again. “I guess so, yeah.”

Loki gently tucked a finger under your chin, pulling your face towards him so that he could lightly kiss you mouth. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”

“Merry Christmas, Loki.”

Secret Santa taglist

@joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[nyxlaufeyson]

Doodles

Winter Masterlist - Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Second

Ship: Loki x Reader

Type: Fluff, tiny bit of angst at the begining, bit of suggestive-ish content at the end

Info to know: This is a soulmate AU where anything your soulmate draws on their body shows up on you.

A/N: This my secret santa piece written for @catsladen!!! I hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!

Loki had no idea how to tell you that he was your soulmate. It didn’t take long for him to figure it out once you showed up at the tower, but at first he just ignored it. He thought that soulmates were stupid, anyways, so he just didn’t say anything about it. 

However, as he got to know you a bit better, he wasn’t as opposed to the idea of you being his soulmate. You were intelligent, beautiful, and best of all, not afraid of him. But while he was fine with it, he doubted that you would be. You might be friends with him, but surely you would be opposed to being more than that.

So he didn’t tell you. He wore long sleeves to cover up the little flowers, hearts, and spirals that you drew on yourself to conceal the fact he was your soulmate. 

It was hard to conceal, especially on summer days, because you were always drawing on your arms. Ever the artist, which he admired about you. He could have used magic to conceal it, but to keep up a near-permanent spell altering his appearance would have been taxing. He still was not entirely sure how he normally appeared Asgardian instead of Jotun. Odin never told him. Plus, the little drawings made him happy.

While he didn’t acknowledge the fact you and him were soulmates, he still flirted with you. It was a harmless way to express affection in a way that might not tip you off. He was known to be flirtatious, so he could get things off his chest without you questioning it.

You would walk through the kitchen, in your workout clothes, sweaty from jogging or training. He would make a point to look you up and down, smirking. “You look delectable today, darling.” 

He would send you a wink, and you would roll your eyes while you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and flipped him off on your way out.

Harmless fun was Loki’s outlet, but little did he know how it affected you. While you didn’t know that you and Loki were soulmates, you still harbored a massive crush on him. But his flirting came across as just playful banter between friends, which hurt you.

You were sure that if you mentioned your feelings to him, he would laugh at you. So, like him, you would lose yourself in flirtations.

Back and forth the two of you went, completely ignorant to the other’s pining. Innuendos, pranks, and flirtations built up tension so thick that you would need a star-forged sword to cut through it.

Everyone else in the tower noticed it, too. They just rolled their eyes and walked away when they walked in on you being lightly pinned to the fridge by Loki. The only people who didn’t notice the clear yearning were you and Loki. 

The flirting was a regular routine. He would corner you against a wall, whispering something in your ear. You would act just a bit more sensually as you did workouts when he was around. He would flirt with other women to get you roused up. You would wear more revealing clothes to catch more attention from others, making him jealous.

Finally, one day, he got the courage to tell you about it. He set up a nice candlelight dinner and asked you to join him on the roof. When you did, you felt severely underdressed. You were in an everyday outfit, while Loki was wearing a suit. 

Your face went a little red. “Oh, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to dress up.” You said, eyes trailing to the table beside him that was lit with candles. 

Loki looked you up and down, getting nervous. “You weren’t.” He said, softly. “You look perfect as is.” 

Something about his ‘flirting’ was clearly off today. It felt much more real to you, which put you on edge. Loki walked up to you, taking your hand, and seating you at the table. “So, uh, did you want to talk about something?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Yes, how about we eat first?” He gestured to the food laid out before you, lots of your favorites, and you agreed. It was paired with fine wine, which was greatly appreciated.

He had it all planned out. As usual, there were doodles on his arms, pictures that you had drawn on your own flesh. After you both finished eating, he took a deep breath, and took his suit coat off. Your eyes immediately recognized the drawings on his arms, and your breath hitched.

Was this some kind of cruel joke? You rolled up your sleeve, putting your arm up to his in comparison. Each doodle was there on his arm, exactly as you had drawn it on your’s. 

“Loki, if this is some kind of joke…” You said, trying your best not to cry. Loki took your hand up in his, planting a gentle kiss. 

His eyes poured into yours. “I assure you that it is not. I have known for a while, but I was scared of rejection, and didn’t know how to tell you. If you don’t wish to have me as your soulmate, though, I understand and I will-”

You laughed. The sound startled him, and he could see relief in your face. “If I don’t wish to have you? Loki, I’ve been in love with you for like ever! If anything, I was worried you wouldn’t like me.”

With this new information, Loki widened his eyes. Had he really been that blind? He brushed that away for now, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Darling, you are the most beautiful and exquisite creature to ever exist. No one could compare to your charm, and you have managed to help mend my broken heart.”

A single, happy, tear slipped down his cheek. “With you, I feel complete. I feel whole. I never believed in soulmates, but after meeting you, I do. I couldn’t imagine a life without you.”

You sat there for a moment, utterly stunned. When you collected your wits, you grabbed him by his shirt collar and pulled him in for a kiss. It was slow and sweet, but rapidly became more heated. You accidentally knocked your wine glass over, and it spilled all over you. 

You broke away from the kiss, the cold wine dripping down your shirt and onto your chest. Loki smirked. “Well then, we should get back inside and get you changed. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold now, would we?” 

The both of you abandoned the table and took the elevator down to your room. During the short ride down, Loki couldn’t keep his hands off of you, trailing kisses down your neck. “Oh, darling, you have no idea how long I have fantasized about this for…”

You were sure he was leaving marks, but you couldn’t care less. As soon as the elevator opened, Loki picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him, letting him carry you to your room. Luckily, you made it there without interruption, and Loki stumbled into your room, setting you down on the bed. 

He locked the door, facing you and your dripping-wet shirt. “Now, let’s get rid of that shirt, shall we?”

Secret Santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @muddyorbs @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

My taglist: @iceeericeee

[deadclawsficcord]

I am excited to announce the Sign-Ups for our Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2024! These will be open until November 4th. There will be a minimum wordcount of 1000 words per fic. You will be contacted by the 6th of November with your recipient and their preferences as filled in on the form. Posting week will be from the 25th of December to the 1st of January. You have until the end of this posting week to complete and submit your half of the exchange! If you wish to join the exchange, hop into our discord! We all hope to see you there!

[fictionalsimp09]

I've had literally the worst day today and thought I'd be miserable all day, but I almost instantly started to feel better when I started writing. This is why you should write for yourself and no one else. Yes, it's nice when people recognise your writing and the effort you put into it, but at the end of the day, you're doing this for free. You might as well do it because you enjoy it, or because it makes you feel better after a bad day or for literally any other reason than the likes/comments. It doesn't even matter if your writing is 'bad' (which is very subjective btw), or if you're an artist, or whatever. As long as you enjoyed creating it, that's what counts

[catiecat1320]

New Fic!!

This one’s a Secret Santa gift. Their one wish was for angst. A lot of angst.

⚠️Warning for character death!⚠️ It’s not graphic or anything but [redacted] still dies, soooo…

Read below the cut ⬇️

If Shadow had known what would happen, he would’ve never done such a thing. Wouldn’t have ever thought of it— he shouldn’t have thought of it at all, regardless of what happened after.

Perhaps he was a hypocrite.

It was all his fault.

……………………………………………………

……………………………………………………

It was an accident.

Shadow knew this, yet he couldn’t help the blazing fury that buried itself in his gut. Why did Sonic have to be such a moron?! That cocky, blue, son-of-a-bitch hedgehog just had to go around meddling in everyone’s business and ruining everything! 

He… he’d been so close. So close. Then— Chaos, he wished he could just throttle that—

“Shads?”

There was only one person bold enough to call him by a nickname that lame. Shadow growled, hoping that he would go away, but a second later he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. The black hedgehog whipped his head around, crimson eyes piercing emerald, and jerked away. 

“Woah! Geez, take a chill pill.” Sonic huffed, his breath visible in the chill air. “What’s wrong?”

“Gee, I wonder.” Shadow spat, baring his fangs at the hero. “Oh, maybe it’s what happened this morning!”

Sonic reacted with no more than a twitch of his face at the comment, as if it had been nothing important at all. “Dude,” he started, taking another step closer, only to be cut off by Shadow.

“Do NOT ‘dude’ me, faker. Do you even know what you did?”

The confusion that settled on Sonic’s face as he tried to recall told Shadow everything he needed to know. “You don’t. Of course you don’t. What did I expect?”

“Shads—”

“My name is Shadow.”

“Shadow. Look, I… I’m sorry I made you upset—”

“‘Upset’ is an understatement. I hate you with every fiber of my being.” 

Sonic frowned, his fingers doing a nervous tap dance on his elbow. “Okay, why— sorry, what random nerve did I touch this time? What happened?”

“If you don’t know, I can't help you.” Shadow snarled in response. Without another word, he sped off, rocket skates flaring as he slid down the icy hill. He hoped to lose the other hedgehog, but Sonic clearly had other ideas as he gave chase.

Sadly, the blue blur had always been just a little faster than Shadow, as much as he hated to admit it. Sonic eventually caught up in their impromptu race, trying and failing to talk with the sheer speed tearing apart any sound he made. Could he not see that Shadow wanted to be left alone? He was practically pleading to get decked.

A few moments more of this game of cat-and-mouse caused Shadow to snap. Scratch trying to clear his head. Sonic isn’t , nor will be, letting up— that much was clear. Well, fine. He’d share a few choice words with the idiot, since he wanted it sooo badly.

Shadow abruptly turned around, grabbing Sonic by the shoulders and slamming him into the ground. “This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? You think it’s just harmless fun.” He spat, the bitter malice in his voice surprising even himself. “You play the hero and inflate your ego, basking in the limelight and not caring about what you leave behind.”

“What do you mean?” Sonic grunted, flipping Shadow off him and getting up, dodging furious punches.

“You know exactly what I mean. You just don’t care.” Shadow sneered, letting his barriers break. Pent up frustration and disappointment morphed into anger, fueling the fire that now burned openly. His fist caught the hero’s jaw with a crack, causing him to stumble and giving Shadow the opening to kick him firmly in the gut. “People got hurt. Hospitalized. Things were burned, shattered, destroyed in that building, and you turn tail and run off without a second thought. The fastest thing alive can’t be bothered to clean up his own messes, apparently.”

“I… I didn’t know.” Sonic whispered, distraught. He dizzily sidestepped Shadow’s chaos spear. “I was focused on… the badniks—”

“Something you should’ve gotten rid of a long time ago.” Shadow retorted. “But you’re too busy going off on adventures.” Both hedgehogs were out of breath by now, clouds of mist puffing out with every breath. The reasons for both, however, were very different: Sonic had gotten it knocked out of him, figuratively and literally; Shadow had spent all his breath screaming. “I was in that building, Sonic. It nearly came down. But do you care?”

“I—”

“What would make you care? Does someone important to you have to die before you come down Earth? What if… what if it had been Tails, huh? Would you finally realize your stupidity then?” 

That was low. Shadow realized as soon as those words left his mouth— there was nothing that Sonic cared for more than his friends. Not even himself. But he faltered at that, and the black hedgehog took the chance to lunge, the thought disintegrating.

The both of them went tumbling, and Shadow ended up on top, pinning the other firmly to the ground. It was completely unnecessary, anyhow— the “hero” didn’t seem very keen on escaping.

“Next time,” Shadow continued after a moment, his voice low. He glared at Sonic with bloody ruby eyes, hoping that his message would finally get through that thick skull of his. “Remember what’s around you. And when someone gets hurt because of your idiotic actions, make sure it’s you.”

Then he warped away, unaware of the single tear that traced down Sonic’s face, that which was etched with a wounded expression of acknowledgement.

……

Miles away, in a luxurious apartment above the dazzling Club Rouge, Shadow reappeared in a flash of light. What would scare the wits out of most people had become customary in this unconventional household, and the bat barely glanced up from her spot on the couch. “Welcome back, hun. Are you feeling better?”

“No.” Shadow growled, the lingering anger from his fight beginning to wane, leaving just exhaustion. Rouge pursed her lips, looking the scruffed up ultimate lifeform over.

“You ran into Sonic.” She stated, not as a question but as a fact. It wasn’t too hard to guess— after all, there’s no one else that cracked the stoic Shadow— in more ways than one— as much as his archrival.

“He ran into me.” Shadow huffed in response. Rouge shook her head, chuckling to herself.

“I assume you two had another lover’s spat?”

Brilliant crimson glared daggers at Rouge, who was unfazed. “He is NOT my ‘lover!’ I can’t stand him.” 

“Sure thing, hun,” the bat laughed. “So explain why your muzzle suddenly matches your stripes.”

“I… Shut up!” Shadow yelled, his voice cracking. He was in no mood to deal with Rouge’s bullshittery. Storming up to his room and slamming the door, he collapsed beside the bed and buried his face into his arms, breathing heavily.

Why was everything going wrong today?

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. He might have even fallen asleep at some point— he didn’t know. But he remembers when Rouge knocked on the door and came in (without permission), and sat down beside him.

“Hey. I’m sorry,” she started softly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Shadow lifted his head and shook his hand at her. So-so.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

He didn’t answer, instead turning away. Rouge sighed. She was hoping he would open up; not that she expected much. She tried a different tactic. “Well, I heard the paper files from the ARK were destroyed today, but they probably had digital or backup ones. That’s what you were looking for, right?”

That caught Shadow’s attention. The hedgehog perked up immediately— because it was. Not that he’d tell anyone (but Rouge was smart enough to know), but he’d been digging through just about everything to find the records from the ARK, a piece of his past, and it just so happened that the building that held them got torn apart. He thought they were gone, but Rouge’s words sparked hope— and regret.

Shadow slumped once more, the harsh words he’d shouted with such misplaced fury earlier grating on his ears. “Rouge, I… I yelled at Sonic. For destroying those. It was an accident— not even his fault! He was trying to help. And I lashed out at him for it… I-I think… I went too far.”

Rouge patted his arm gently. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for Shadow to act without thinking. “It’s alright. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Really?” 

“Of course. You know him. Now come on, let’s get started on those files. You can apologize the next time he comes around.”

Shadow nodded. “Okay…Thanks, Rouge.”

“No problem.”

……………………………………………………

“What happened?”

Shadow looked up from the computer quizzically, deep in everything they’d dug out of government files. Rouge stood in the doorway, phone in hand, barely concealed worry written on her face. “Two weeks ago. You… Tails, I’ll call you back.” The bat said, promptly hanging up. She took a breath before continuing. “You came home after fighting with Sonic. Shadow, what happened exactly? What did you say?” 

“Is that really important?” Shadow winced, mentally shoving the resurfacing memory down. “What’s going on?”

“He’s gone off the radar. It’s Christmas Eve, and no one has seen nor heard from him since you—”

Shadow didn’t hear the rest of her sentence. He’d already dashed out, heart pounding, rocket skates leaving a trail of slush in the freshly fallen snow.

……

Rouge frantically pinged Shadow’s communicator, but he didn’t bother to answer— instead turning the thing off— too wrapped up in his thoughts as he sped through crisp, pale scenery. It can’t be that hard to spot a speck of blue against it all, right?

Sonic was known to disappear for days at a time, doing who-knows-what. But two weeks was a record without any word, for as much as Shadow knew, plus the blue hedgehog always returned for special occasions. And what more occasional than a white Christmas? 

There was definitely something going on. Something bad.

Shadow had a sinking feeling that it was caused by himself.

Harsh words reverberated in his skull, his mind having handily retrieved them from the back of his Things To Forget pile. 

Where was that idiot?

……

He must’ve searched through half the country before catching a glimpse of the blue blur trudging through some inconspicuous woods, heading somewhere in deep. Shadow grumbled in annoyance as he changed direction and chased after Sonic. So he was okay, just ignoring all of his friends.

A closer look, however, told a slightly different story. The hero’s lithe frame was marred by neglected scrapes and bruises of unknown origin, and Shadow could see, both from the rise and fall of his chest and the puffs that left his lips, that his breathing was labored. Shadow’s brow furrowed with concern. What happened?

Before the black hedgehog had a chance to call out to him, Sonic slowed, his ears flicking, likely picking up on the sound of snow crunching under metal shoes. Then he turned around.

“Shadow.” 

Shadow decided that he’d prefer one of his nicknames right then. It was unnerving to hear his name, partnered with an uncharacteristically serious expression, come out of Sonic’s mouth. But of course he didn’t say that. “Where have you been?” He asked instead.

“Places. Does it concern you?”

Yeah, this— this whole thing— was unnerving. Shadow couldn’t put his finger on why.  “I… It’s Christmas Eve. You’ve been gone for two weeks. Your friends are looking for you.”

“Oh.” Sonic responded, much less of a reaction than Shadow had been expecting “Tell them I won’t be there. I’ve got things to do.” 

And he ran. The little bitch ran off before Shadow could get another word in, causing him to stiffen in frustration. What—

That’s when it struck him. Sonic was acting just like him. It seemed as if the events from two weeks prior were playing out with them on opposite sides.

In an ironic twist of fate, that left Shadow to play the role of annoying, stubborn pain-in-the-butt.

He groaned and chased after Sonic, hoping to catch up before he lost him.

……

Unfortunately, Sonic quickly outpaced Shadow, who did terribly in this kind of terrain. He ended up stumbling blindly through the woods trying to find his blue rival again. Luckily, the “things'' Sonic had to do weren’t exactly quiet. Horrendous screeching of metal and machinery, punctuated by the sound of an explosion, led Shadow to his destination: an abandoned Eggman base. Sonic had clearly wasted no time tearing through the thing, and Shadow followed the trail of destruction out the other side.

Well, maybe abandoned wasn’t the right word. A hoard of beeping badniks surrounded Sonic, their glowing eyes failing to elicit any fear as the hero stared them down with half-lidded eyes. In the absence of shadow-casting trees, the winter sun highlighted the dark bags upon Sonic’s pale muzzle, along with a fresh scratch that he took no notice of. He readied himself into a fighting stance, waiting. Then the first bot attacked— but not at him.

Shadow jumped, the bolt missing his face by only a millimeter— much too close for comfort. Oh, right. He was in enemy territory. He snapped out of his thoughts and shifted gears, spin-dashing the badnik and landing beside Sonic.

But as they fought, Shadow noticed two things: one, Sonic was slower, his attacks not as effective as they usually were. Although, that wasn’t unexpected— Sonic was observably injured, after all. What both worried and frustrated Shadow was number two: most of the time, the two hedgehogs fought side by side in perfect sync. It was like magic, the way they clicked. But this time…

“Stop trying to protect me,” Shadow growls, ducking as Sonic flipped over his head and stomped on a badnik beside him. “I can handle myself.”

“Sure. Like that bot didn’t almost blow your head off earlier.”

Well, at least he got his sass back, Shadow thought, rolling his eyes. “That was one time. Focus on yourself. You’re hurt.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?!” Sonic snapped, his voice breaking. “Gods, do you hear yourself?”

Shadow stopped dead, the weight of the remark hitting him like a train. Oh. Oh, Chaos. That’s… He didn’t mean… Had Sonic…? 

Any words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. Amidst the flurry of frantic thoughts came one which was clear as crystal: You caused this. Whatever Sonic’s been doing to himself is because of you.

“Oh Sonic, you’re a terrible hero.” Sonic drawled in a horrible imitation of Shadow’s voice. “Go fuck yourself over more than you already are.” He delivered a swift kick to a motobug and sent it crashing through the last of the badniks. Emerald eyes brimmed with tears, and one escaped, tracing a path down his cheek.

He’s crying. Chaos, he’s crying. Shadow had never seen Sonic cry before. He wanted it to stop.

But Sonic didn’t stop. “Oh, w-wait, you did what I said. Actually, do this instead,” he shakily continued.

“What do you want from me?! What… What more? I… everyone else is clear. I’ve got to be a hero. The hero. The supposed better person. The light in the dark. The beacon of hope. I… I’ve got to be everything. I can’t— I can’t cry. I want to cry. I shouldn’t be crying. Why am I crying?” He rubbed at his eyes furiously, but the tears just came faster, along with his breaths. Eventually he gave up and looked up at Shadow numbly, face flushed and damp. “What… What am I doing wrong?”

Shadow, who had been standing there like an idiot, speechless, finally found his voice. “Sonic…” he whispered, taking a step forward.

That’s as far as he got.

Because then everything collapsed, all too fast; but at the same time, all too slow.

…A badnik. They’d missed one. Or maybe just didn’t smash it hard enough.

With the last of its artificial life, it fired at Shadow, who, mind reeling from Sonic’s mental breakdown, froze on the spot. His mind screamed at his body to move, but he simply could not react fast enough.

The shot didn’t make it to its target, though.

Because Sonic was there instead.

The bolt punched through the hedgehog, somewhere among his ribcage, then out the other side, bringing a burst of bright red, stark against royal blue.

Sonic collapsed to his hands and knees, taking in a single, sharp breath.

Shadow doesn’t remember screaming. 

But he knows he heard it— shocked, terrified, piercing— as he dropped to the ground beside his counterpart. 

No, no, no.

Warm blood ate at crystal white snow, melting it into a sickening slush.

Sonic toppled into Shadow, coughing, droplets of red dripping down his chin.

He weakly grabbed at his chest as Shadow frantically turned him over, exposing the worst of it.

It was a gruesome sight, one indescribable, one his memory blurred out.

…Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew then that Sonic wouldn’t make it.

In a twisted way, it both calmed him and panicked him.

He peeled off now blood-soaked gloves, fumbling with his communicator before pressing SOS. 

Then he applied pressure to the wound, wincing at Sonic’s pained whimpers.

“Shad… Shadow. Shads.”

Shadow hesitantly looked over. 

Sonic’s usually lively emerald eyes were devoid of the spark that Shadow so liked to see. They’d taken on a dull, glassy look, struggling to focus on Shadow’s face.

“Y-you’re… you’re crying,” he mumbled.

Shadow blinked, processing the remark. “That’s… that’s not important!”

Sonic didn’t seem to hear him. “Hmm… you m’kay?”

The sudden question so clearly contrasted the situation at hand that Shadow could help but choke out a bitter laugh. “What? Y-yes. No. I don’t know any more. Why…That sounds like a question I should be asking you?”

“Mmm… ‘m fine. Always fine.” Sonic replied absently, his head lulling to the side. “Sleepy…”

“No!” Shadow yipped, eliciting a disappointed whine from the injured hero. “No. No, no. Stay awake, Sonic. Th-they’ll be here soon. You’ll… you’ll be okay. Okay.  Please.”

Sonic shook his head lethargically. “Shadow. I… Don’t cry… hate crying.”

“Sonic. T-that’s not important,” Shadow chokes. He opted to let up on the pressure, which was not doing anything to reduce the bloody puddle that formed beneath the two. Instead, he gently gathered the other in his arms, cradling him against his chest like it would fix everything. “I… earlier you asked what I wanted from you. I need you to stay alive. Please, Sonic, please.”

Sonic blinked, slow, deathly. “Sorry. Can’t… can’t do that,” he whispers, pressing against the patch of fluff, and Shadow sobs in protest.

“No no n-no, Sonic, please. Sonic!” 

“Shhh…” Bare paw pads pick up on the sensation of touch, and Shadow realizes that Sonic was grasping his hand. “Shhh… ‘s gonna be okay, Shads. Mhm? ‘Innit funny… this is how— I die… after everything…”

“Y-you’re not going to die, Sonic. You’re not! Sonic, Sonic, Sonic…” Shadow shook him in a desperate attempt to keep him awake. He absently wondered if Sonic could hear his erratic heartbeat as he rambled, straining to pick up on sounds of rescue. 

“Sonic, Sonic, please. They’re coming. Just… just hold on. They’ll help you and you’ll be okay and everything’ll be fine. Sonic. Sonic, I-I’ll take you on a vacation, okay? Anywhere you’d like. As a Christmas present! You deserve it. Okay? Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die… Sonic?”

No response.

Shadow looked down in panic to find that Sonic’s eyes had drifted closed, a single teardrop belonging to himself trailing down a blue eyelid. “Sonic! Wake up wake up wake up—”

“Mmph… squishing me…” he weakly mumbled. Shadow had never felt more relief in his life as when Sonic shifted in his arms. 

But that relief was short-lived.

“Shads… don’t blame yourself, m’kay? ‘S not… ‘s not your fault… not— your fault…” Sonic whispers, his words slurring together. He gave Shadow’s hand a light squeeze. Then his head drooped and he exhaled, shallow, content. 

He did not take another breath.

Shadow let out an unholy screech. “S-Sonic! Nononononono Sonic, Sonic y-you’re supposed to be home for Christmas, Sonic, what about your friends?! I… don’t do this to me— please! I’m sorry! Wake up. Please. I need you! I can’t do this again, Sonic. Sonic! I… I love you, Sonic. I love you.” And he did. Shadow confessed, to himself as much as to his lover, something he’d always denied, something which was always true, in a frenzied attempt at the impossible.

It was too late.

Much too late.

On a day that was meant to be joyful, filled with holiday cheer,

A life was lost, and another, shattered beyond repair.

[arenabreadandbiscuits]

Does at least three people want a story from me for 4k for $50?.. Could really help me out rn. OC x OC, OC x canon.. come on y'all I'm so open for commissions..

[1989stanz]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Inheritance Games - Jennifer Lynn Barnes, The Naturals - Jennifer Lynn Barnes Summary:

It's basically just the Hawthorne brothers, Libby and Avery playing Secret Santa.

I just posted another fanfic, but this time it's on AO3!!

Hope you enjoy it :)

[blackwolfstabs]

Parker's Secret Santa Gifts🎄for @alphawolfstabs

YOUR HEART OR MINE

One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.

fandom: Scream pairing: Billy Loomis × Stu Macher characters: Billy Loomis & Stu Macher a/n: i've never written about stuilly before so i have no idea how accurate this may or may not be. i'm so sorry for all the billy and stu writers that gag at this haha. anyways, enjoy :)

While it had only been a little over an hour since Billy had been submerged into his homework, it had felt like hours for Stu. He had gone through as many activities as he could to keep him entertained, while the other was still reading, writing, or doing whatever it was he was doing for class. He liked having him over, but he didn’t like spending it without talking or engaging in anything together, at all. There was no telling when he would be summoned home by a phone call.

On the other hand, Billy didn’t mind not actually doing anything together. They didn’t have to talk or even acknowledge each other. Just being in the same room was enough for him, even though staring at the same formatted words and questions over and over again made his head pound.

“Billyyy…” 

Stu’s voice interrupted his concentration, but he didn’t look up. “What?”

“I’m bored. Are you almost done?” he asked, tossing up a tennis ball as he slouched his computer chair.

“You said it’d be fine if I worked on homework here,” came the flat reply.

His friend sighed a somewhat dramatic sigh and stopped throwing the ball up in the air. “Yeah, but do you think you could, like, take a break or something?”

He put his pencil down and glanced over his shoulder. “I guess.” There was a look in the blue eyes that stared back at him that said he wasn’t just looking for something to do. He knew what he wanted, he just needed acceptance. “What do you want to do?”

Macher’s signature grin grew on his face, however he still tried to play it cool as he got up to make his way towards the bed. “Well, I dunno—”

“Yeah, you do,” the other immediately cut him off with a light scoff, turning back to his homework.

“Just… chill out, maybe?” He jumped onto the mattress and crawled over to the head of it. He craned his neck a little to see over Billy’s shoulder. “If you can put your fuckin’ homework down, you teacher’s pet,” he teased.

“Hey.” Billy turned his head enough to look at him. “At least I actually do my homework. How many classes are you failing again?”

Stu took no offense, just continued to tease him, “You only do yours because your mommy tells you to.”

This time, he set his homework on the bedside table and turned to grab a pillow, which he smacked him with.

“Oww!” the older teen cried in mock pain, the impact knocking him off balance.

“Serves you right.”

Macher scoffed—in his now-lying position—and reached behind him. “Oh, yeah?” He pulled out another pillow and returned the slap. “Take that!” He hit the other’s upper back, which had him earning a sarcastic smirk.

“Was that supposed to hurt me?” Loomis turned around to face him, still holding his weapon as he crept onto the bed fully.

The way his voice sounded—steady and cool—sent a shiver down Stu’s spine, those dark eyes only influencing that flustered feeling that had been taunting him for months now. “No-ho,” he laughed as he shook his head, when Billy stalked closer to him. “This is!”

The flash of color that came towards the younger teen didn’t reach him like it was intended to, for he caught it with his free hand. Ocean eyes lit up before him, and he knew the exact words running through his head.

“Aw, I fucked up!” 

Billy grinned a wolfish grin, “Yeah, you did.” He ripped the pillow out of Stu’s grip, then pelted him with both cushions at once. “Now, what are you gonna do?!”

Macher shouted in a playful way as he turned his back and put his arms over his head for protection. “That’s cheating!” 

But the attacker didn’t care and pounced on his prey by straddling him with his knees. It was somewhat awkward, but he wasn’t thinking about that at the time. “How’s it cheating? You made a stupid move, you’re the one who got yourself into this,” he taunted, continuing to hit him.

“Billyyy!”

“Fight me! Fight me, like a man!”

By now, they just looked like two rambunctious puppies barking back and forth for the upper hand. As Stu continued to take the bombardment, he could hear Billy start to laugh, and it made his face burn. Billy didn’t laugh much, not in the playful, genuine way like this was. It was a little higher than the laughs he gave when making a snide comment or being sarcastic. It was a young-at-heart kind of expression, and that sent the underdog blushing immediately. He broke his makeshift cover to grab both of Billy’s wrists and hold them in a firm grip. 

This caught him off-guard, which allowed the older teen to make his next move. Being taller, he was able to twist beneath his friend’s straddling knees and push himself into a semi-slouch, using the support of the headboard. He brought his knees up, which pushed Billy forward to have his knees corralling his hips and his backside supported by Stu’s thighs. 

Suddenly, the lighthearted moment the other was immersed in vanished for one of surprise as he dropped the pillows. The words that he always managed to spit out around his friend were lost for mere silence as he could only blink into the bright eyes gazing at him.

This just made Stu smirk. He knew he had just taken control without giving any combative retaliation. He also knew his face was bright red with the amount of heat that surged through him at being that close to Billy, let alone having him basically locked onto his lap. “Now, what are you gonna do?” he used his own words against him.

Loomis swallowed, his heart racing while he instinctively tried to twist his wrists a little bit. He glanced away shyly, “U-um…” He was drawing a major blank, emphasis on major.

However, while it was awkward for one, it was endearing for the other. Macher released his wrists to then wrap his arms around his waist, holding him in place. 

The tension between them had grown heavy in a matter of seconds, somewhere between hope and despair. It was uncertainty. One knew what he wanted but didn’t know how to persuade. The other knew how he wanted to take it but was holding back.

They were best friends, nothing more… right?

Billy braced himself to avoid falling onto Stu’s chest, one hand against the headboard and the other pressed against his shoulder. He couldn’t seem to glance up, not to meet those wild eyes that hid nothing, even though they were begging for his dark ones to comply. It was too risky. That’s the way he was. Once he started something, he wasn’t able to stop. A forged relationship was no different, especially with the amount of emotions involved. God, that was rough. “W-we can’t…” was all he managed to get out, his voice suddenly quiet and almost fearful of ears lurking beyond Stu’s bedroom walls, even though they were the only ones in the house.

“Says who?” came the retaliating challenge. It wasn’t strong or defensive. In fact, it was the softest Stu Macher had ever sounded in their time of knowing each other. And that was because he had finally found himself in this moment—the moment he’d been waiting for. He was fun-loving and dimwitted, but he knew how to make or break a chance. Billy was someone that he had never known before. He was like a stray dog that owned the streets, an artist before he made any art, a wild horse without any cowboy to tame him. He was reckless and rugged. He showed up, when it was least expected, and he was promised to give anyone around him plenty of trouble. That kind of person was nothing but the perfect match for Stu.

He wanted to be more than friends.

Billy tensed as he felt the older teen’s arms stretch farther around his waist, nearing the hem of his shirt. His voice steadied a little more, “My parents will kill me.”

The right half of Stu’s mouth turned up, dipping his head a little to catch his friend’s gaze. And with a gentle touch of his hand, he lifted his chin to do so. “Your parents don’t have to know,” he practically whispered.

The younger was locked in. He couldn’t look away or try to get out of the arms holding him still. His heart was beating so hard, he swore that it could be heard between the two of them. He wasn’t necessarily an anxious person, yet the feeling was strong in his stomach as his breathing began to deepen and trembled slightly. Being a teenage boy, he was often put under oath that he wasn’t scared of anything—that no matter what, he could take what he was given. How else were you supposed to survive? But this was the first time in years he could say that he felt fear. He could see Stu’s eyes jumping from his own to his lips, which made him tempted to pull away. He just wasn’t sure, so all he could think to say, if he even was thinking, was, “What?” 

Because why was he looking so calm, yet excited? So hesitant, but sure? So careless, yet longing?

And for a response, Stu kissed him. He didn’t ask before he did it, but he didn’t seem to mind, actually leaning into it. One of Stu’s hands retreated from his lower back to hold the side of his face as he tilted his head to secure his lips. 

He earned a soft moan from doing so.

A sensation of peace combed itself down Billy’s spine, easing the swirling anxiety that made him twisted in the spotlight of a decision. Now, the deed was done, only needing half of a two-person commitment to take one step closer. Surprisingly, Stu’s lips were soft as they manipulated his. Being nervous already, he knew his kiss wouldn’t come off very challenging, yet he didn’t expect that from a dare-devil, like his friend. 

Macher rotated his thumb in smooth, gentle circles along the younger’s cheek bone, casually slipping his hand beneath his shirt to run his fingers up his side. He felt him shift closer, which delighted him, and he edged his knees up higher to hold that close space. 

Loomis didn’t even realize his hand had drifted away from pressing against the older teen’s shoulder, until his fingers threaded through his hair, slightly tilting his head back. The support from Stu’s thighs had pushed him far enough to leave his knees straddling his sides, which left him taking somewhat of a dominant lead as he had to dip his head to keep the kiss strong. 

This gave Macher a sense of bravery as he stretched his arm further around his waist to have his fingertips find the frontal surface of his torso. He purred as they paused for a quick breath, then went back to it. The other foreign hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair was looped around his neck, giving him open access to move his own as he pleased. And he did as he traced his fingertips over the contoured definition of the smaller male’s abs. They weren’t heavily defined, but they were impressive.

Billy shuddered at this, but it only made him come off stronger, gripping Stu’s hair while his other hand pressured his nape. The other’s digits trailed up his ribs then found the midline of his abdomen, where he carefully retreated downward. They dipped into his navel a little when they reached it, which made an involuntary growl rumble in Loomis’s throat, and he drug the hand on Stu’s neck down his back, feeling the owner moan into his mouth.

If things started to escalate, there would be more than uncompleted homework to pay for. They had known each other for a long time now, almost swearing to know each other better than themselves. They could be called a lot of things, but tonight they were a pair of desperados. Something about this night was making them cross the line. 

They were playing with fire. Love wasn’t too far behind. It was just a matter of time…

Billy felt Stu’s hand ease down his jawline and cup the flank of his neck. He pulled back a little to catch the older’s bottom lip between his teeth and tug on it. His partener smirked and jerked a little to get free.

“You’re not feeling that nervous about this anymore, are you?” he was teased.

“Shut up,” he replied and pulled him into another kiss. And it was gladly accepted.

It was just a matter of time, for sure. There was no doubt about it.

Playing with fire was something dangerous but tempting. Especially for two frisky teens, like Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.

They were good at it. They played with fire, but they didn’t get burned.

They learned how to embrace the flames.

merry christmas billy!! i've really enjoyed being your friend, and i hope we stay friends for a while. you made me feel like it was okay to be myself on social media, and i'm very thankful for the kindness and support you've given to me. hope this isn't weird, but i love you dude 🩶 team loomis!! 🎄✨🐺

- parker (BWS)

[lotr-sesa]

FIVE DAYS to the 2023 Lord of the Rings Secret Santa claiming and posting deadline!

There is now FIVE DAYS left to get those fills in! Claiming will run all the way until the posting deadline on December 31st.

Currently, a little over 75% of the prompts have been claimed. Our goal is to make sure every prompter gets at least one of their prompts filled, but we would love to see them all filled. ❤️ Signal boost or go browse the prompts, or both! ;) Rings of Power writers are especially welcome, as we have a RoP prompter whose single prompt (Nori and Poppy gen fic) hasn't been claimed yet.

Here are the prompts still waiting for fills:

Romance/pairing (varying ratings) prompts:

Bronwyn/Arondir from The Rings of Power (this one an AU prompt)

Caranthir/Caranthir's Wife/Haleth

Elrond/Celebrían

Boromir/Faramir

Gen prompts:

Poppy & Nori from The Rings of Power

Dain-focused fic

time-travelling Gandalf

And two broader ensemble prompts for Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship, Third Age Dunedain).

You can find all the prompts HERE, as the prompt meme format doesn't allow for linking to individual prompts.

If you are new to the format, AO3 has a helpful FAQ here. You can read the SeSa rules HERE.

This year's timeline (2023):

Prompt Posting: November 1st to 30th.

Claiming: December 1st to 31st.

Collection Open for Posting: December 1st to 31st.

All Fills Due: December 31st 2023.

[vo1decho6907]

here is my klance secret santa gift for @rae-aaah !! i was given the sfw prompt 'go ham', so i made a fluff filled monster! i hope you enjoy!!

[fmoe1997]

Hey all! Just posted a new fic today, some holiday hurt/comfort radiodust for my friend CarleyT as a part of our group's secret santa event!

Anthony invited his long-distance boyfriend, Alastor, to New York to spend Christmas Eve together. While the prospect of having him over filled him with the usual anxious flutters, older fears bubble just under the surface. A secret he had yet to divulge to his partner, one that could possibly destroy everything he had built between them.

Hope y'all enjoy! Link

[iambutmortal]

Into Daylight

Summary: Everyone knows what happens when a man can’t pay their debts: the Duke comes to take a child. And Elain knows it’s only a matter of time until he comes for her. But there’s something else lurking in Duke Vanserra’s manor and she’s more wrapped up in it than she could ever imagine.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 17k

Content Warning: None

Read on AO3

For @azrielshadowssing Merry Christmas! I loved getting to write this so I hope you enjoy it and I managed to live up to my promise of sexy Eris. And thanks to everyone at @acotargiftexchange​ for putting on such a great event.

Elain’s sisters were whispering again. She forced her breathing to stay even, kept her eyes closed. Crammed between the two of them on the bed they all shared, she hoped it looked like she was still asleep.

Based on the steady stream of murmuring above her, they hadn’t noticed she’d woken.

“We’re running out of time,” came Feyre’s nervous hiss.

“He’s not going to take her,” was Nesta’s response, her tone firm. “I don’t care what father does, I’m not letting her go with the Duke.”

Elain felt like she’d been doused in ice water as it dawned on her half awake brain what her sisters meant.

Duke Vanserra was coming to collect what he was owed.

Elain had always known she lived in the worst of the five duchies, the furthest North in a kingdom that never seemed to fully escape the cold of winter. Even in the midst of summer it was never truly warm, spring bleeding straight into autumn, the sun never fully heating the earth to let growth fully bloom.

Nothing grew there, people eking out meager existences by working for one of the merchants in their mansions, riches fueled by the one redeeming quality of Thornfield: it’s port.

Elain’s family had once been among them. She could remember running through halls lined with portraits, satin slippers slapping against floors of marble. All that was gone, taken so swiftly Elain was half convinced it had all been a dream, a childhood fantasy to distract herself from the thin cabin walls that never quite kept out the chill or damp, the tough meat Feyre brought back after hunting.

This was her reality, trapped between the too-thin bodies of her sisters while they tried to figure out how to deal with the seemingly never ending debt her father had accrued.

It was the truth none of them wanted to acknowledge. The money, what little their father had managed to save, was running out, and fast if their ever more threadbare clothes were any indication.

Not that Feyre or Nesta would ever tell her that. Better to keep naive, sweet Elain in the dark, let her stay in her pretty daydreams.

But Elain knew.

Heard Greyson’s threats ringing in her ears, what he’d told her when she turned down his offer of marriage.

You know what the Duke does when a man can’t pay his debts.

Despite herself, Elain shivered. She did know what happened. How footmen showed up on doorsteps in the middle of the night, whisking away a child to pay off whatever the Duke thought he was owed.

He always took the loveliest, and everyone in the village knew when the time came it would be Elain the Duke wanted.

“Nesta,” came Feyre’s response, shaking Elain out of her thoughts. “We need another option.”

Elain huffed a breath and rolled over on the bed. On either side of her, Nesta and Feyre stilled. She didn’t want to hear their plan, what they’d be willing to risk to keep her safe. Let them plot while she was out in the garden, trying in vain to grow something in the hard ground.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Nesta sighed, sounding defeated.

A cold hand - Nesta’s - stroked through her hair, playing with the gentle curls.

“She’s not ending up like the others,” Feyre said fiercely. Elain could almost picture it, the way Feyre’s blue eyes glowed with defiance in the dark.

Elain swallowed down the lump of fear rising in her throat. Rumors swirled around the Kingdom of girls going missing, bodies drained of blood showing up around the various palaces inhabited by King Beron and his five sons.

Another stroke of Nesta’s hand on her hair. “We won’t let them.”

-

It was dark when the knocking started. Their father looked up at the door from his stoop by the fire, fear and guilt written plain across his face.

“What did you do?” Nesta snarled, even as she stood, throwing the book she’d been reading down on the seat below her.

“They were going to kill me,” their father pleaded, eyes darting around the room, looking everywhere but at Elain.

She put down the shirt she’s been mending, sewing yet another patch into the fabric that was more scraps than original shirt at this point.

Another round of furious pounding rang through the cabin, the flimsy wooden door rattling in its frame.

Feyre joined Nesta on her feet, clutching the arrow she’d been making tight in her hand. As if it would be able to do anything against the Duke’s soldiers.

Elain’s two sisters glanced at each other before Nesta stepped forward to open the door, Feyre following behind her like a shadow.

The footman was more bear than man. Tall, broad shouldered, his dark hair hanging down to his collar. His lips curled in disgust as he took in the hovel they called home.

Elain had never seen her father look more fearful as he took in the auburn uniform of a Duke’s servant, come to collect what he owed.

“He said he wouldn’t send you,” came his horse rasp. “That she’d be safe.”

The footman scoffed. “The Duke doesn’t like to be defined. Although,” he gave the cabin another glance, “I doubt you ended up here because of good decisions.”

“I’ll do anything,” Elain’s father begged, rising on shaky legs, his bad knee nearly collapsing underneath him. Elain flinched at the sight, remembering the horrible cracking sound from when the debtors had broken it while her and Nesta cowered in the bedroom “Just don’t take my daughter.”

“You have the money then?” Was the footman’s only reply. He hadn’t moved from the entrance, had the audacity to look bored, as if he stole children from their families every night. He probably did.

“Not Elain,” came her father’s pitiful whine. “One of my other two daughters would do much better, will work much harder for the Duke. He’d be more happy with them.”

Nesta and Feyre’s faces bore matching expressions of disgust, but neither of them contradicted him. They didn’t think she’d be able to survive whatever horrors waited for her in the Duke’s mansion. Elain wasn’t sure she disagreed.

“I’m under strict orders, the Duke wants the prettiest one.”

Nesta took a step towards the footman, putting herself between him and Elain. “Take me. The Duke will never know.”

The footman’s hand ran along the hilt of the dagger sheaved in his belt. “I was told to take Elain Archeron by whatever means necessary. Don’t make my job more difficult than it needs to be.”

Elain knew Nesta was prepared to fight, to kick and scream and claw until she couldn’t anymore. Feyre too, if the white knuckles around her arrow were any indication.

But Elain couldn’t do it, couldn’t see her sisters hurt on her behalf.

She rose to her feet. “I’ll go.” She hated the way her voice trembled.

“No,” Nesta cried, the sound ripped from her throat.

Elain couldn’t look at her, directed her gaze towards the footman. “It’s only until the debt is repaid?”

“Not a night longer,” he confirmed, face softening for the first time that night. Elain thought she might have detected pity behind those cruel brown eyes, even as he took a step towards her, offering a hand.

Elain took it, letting him pull her towards the front door.

“Wait,” Feyre begged, “let us say goodbye.”

The footman sighed, but dropped her hand. “You have a minute, we’re already behind schedule.” He glared, making it clear he blamed them for the delay but Elain doubted she’d have been granted more time even if she had gone willingly.

Feyre threw her arms around Elain’s neck, pulling her close. “We’ll figure out how to save you,” she whispered in her ear. “I’ll pay off the debt.”

Elain didn’t ask how, knew it was impossible when Feyre’s hunting was barely enough to feed them as it was, much less make any extra money.

Feyre stepped back, letting Nesta take her spot. Elain clung to Nesta’s rigid body and willed herself not to cry. Not where Nesta could see and might decide it wasn’t too late to kill the footman and flee with Elain.

“That’s enough,” the footman interrupted.

Elain detangled herself from Nesta’s grasp, and let herself be pulled out of the cabin.

She thought she heard her father call her name behind her, but the door was slammed shut before she could turn around and check.

The carriage before her was so grand it nearly took her breath away. Elain had thought she’d grown up in splendor, that their own coach pulled by four matching snow white horses had been the height of luxury. She was wrong.

No less than six chestnut stallions stomped and kicked at the snowy ground in front of her, attached to a gilded carriage large enough to fit at least eight. Ornate gold coated the outside, swirling patterns depicting wolves and birds licked in flames. Large glass windows exposed the red velvet covering the inside, curtains hanging behind that could be lowered to give privacy.

A coachman, wearing the same auburn suit as the footman, gave them a nod of acknowledgement as they approached.

The footman swung open the door, holding out an arm to help her climb inside. He followed, sitting opposite Elain on the softly cautioned seats, and with two taps on the roof, they set off.

Elain refused to let herself look back, to see if any of her family were waving her off. A single tear slid down her cheek, dropping down onto the brown cotton dress she wore.

“It won’t be that bad, ma’am,” the footman said. He sounded gentler than in the cabin, his face earnest.

His pity only made Elain feel worse, her stomach turning over itself. A few more tears slid down her face, even as her throat ached with the effort to keep from sobbing.

The footman shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “My name’s Jurian,” he offered. Elain just stared at him with watery eyes.

Jurian reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. “I swear the Duke’s not as bad as whatever you’ve heard about him.”

Elain very much doubted him. King Beron once had seven sons, but two had been murdered in cold blood before they came to age, leaving only five brothers, one to inherit each of the five duchies. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke had done to make sure he survived, but she very much doubted it was anything less than the cold, calculated cruelty she’d heard of.

“Why should I trust you?” Elain sniffed, dabbing at her eyes with the offered fabric.

Jurian pointed out the window. “I grew up about a mile from here, in a cottage similar to yours. My mother still lives there, doing whatever washing people throw her way.”

“How did the Duke get you?” Elain asked, peering at the large man before her. She couldn’t imagine him as a small child, ripped away from his mother due to someone else’s failures.

Jurian gave her a small smile. “My own stupidity, unfortunately. Came on some hard times after my fiancée left me, found too much pleasure in the bottle.” He shrugged. “Nothing to be done about it now. Besides,” Jurian leaned forward, like he was letting her in on a secret, “it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Better for working for one of those stuck up merchants at least.”

Elain snorted. She wasn’t sure she believed him, but if nothing else he’d succeeded in making the tears stop falling.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain peering out the window as the dark forms of trees passed by in a blur. Anticipation formed a knot in her stomach as the trees grew more sparse, the bouncing of the carriage on the dirt road dampening as they switched to more well trodden paths.

Gradually, the Duke’s palace came into sight. Even buried in snow, the manor was breathtaking. Red brick walls, no doubt thick enough to keep out the chills, and a steeply sloping roof of white shilling gave the house a homely feel, at odds with its behemoth size, enough to take up the whole width of the window pane.

They approached from the back, up a path surrounded by carefully manicured gardens. How they’d managed to get anything to grow was a mystery to Elain, but sculpted bushes stood along the road, lightly dusted with snow.

“We’re here,” Jurian confirmed. The carriage ground to a halt, Jurian resting his hand on the lever.

Elain felt more tears well up in her eyes.

“Listen,” Jurian said. “I promise it won’t be horrible, but if you ever fall into trouble, come to me.”

“But why—“ Elain asked. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence without it being rude. Why would you help me? What could you even do against a Duke?

Jurian smiled at her, finally opening the door. “Us humans have to stick together, don’t we?”

Elain didn’t have time to ponder what he meant by that before he was hopping out onto the ground and offering a hand to help her down.

“Come,” Jurian ordered, voice once again gruff as he reentered the house of his master.

He led her towards a small side door, far, far away from the ornate glass ones that led to the main part of the house.

The servant’s hall was dark and narrow, although blessedly warm. Small candles provided just enough light for Elain to see the rough stone floor beneath her feet and keep from tripping. Even at the late hour, workers bustled around them, carrying trays and clothes and hairbrushes. All the things Elain used to have brought up to her as a child, when she had people to boss around.

Jurian led her down past the kitchen, past the laundry room, to a room filled with a half dozen bronze tubs.

A servant girl was waiting for them, her brown hair pulled back from her face in a simple plait, showing off the softly rounded cheeks flushed slightly against her dark skin, full lips pursed in a scowl.

“Took you long enough,” she snapped, roughly gripping Elain around the wrist.

“Sorry to take you away from your busy schedule of cleaning the baseboards for the fifth time this week, Kaisia,” Jurian shot back.

“If you have a problem with my job, take it up with Vassa,” Kaisia snapped, dragging Elain over to one of the tubs. It was half full of water, soap bubbles floating on the top.

“Always pleasant talking to you,” Jurian muttered. Elain heard the door shut, leaving her alone with this surly woman.

“I—“

“Do you need help to get undressed? Or are you capable of doing that yourself?”

Elain shook her head, even as she felt her face heat. Her and her sisters bathed in the same room, one after another on the rare occasion they had enough time and energy to fill the tub, but stripping down in front of a stranger was wholly different.

“Then get on with it.” Kaisia crossed her arms over her chest. “The Duke demands we bathe weekly, so there’s no sense in trying to keep your modesty.”

“Sorry,” Elain stammered, reaching up with trembling hands to pull her dress off.

If possible, Kaisia’s scowl deepened. “Your clothes are disgusting.”

“We don’t have enough money for new ones,” Elain defended.

Kaisia just nudged the pile of fabric on the floor with her toe. “It’ll have to be burned, the Duke doesn’t want to keep anything too dirty around.” She directed her attention on Elain. “Get in the tub.”

“Sorry,” Elain repeated, stepping in quickly.

The water was lukewarm, too cold against her skin, but Elain forced herself not to cry out, couldn’t deal with any more of Kaisia’s scorn.

The woman handed her a scrub brush and Elain made quick work of cleaning herself, wrinkling her nose at the layers of dirt that came off, turning the water a light shade of grey.

Elain had to suppress a yawn, the late hour finally getting to her.

“Did they make you stay up to help me?” Elain asked, feeling guilty for the first time. She doubted most of the Duke’s servants got enough sleep if the crowded hallways were any indication, and she didn’t want to rob Kaisia of any of the free time she did get. It wasn’t her fault she was stuck here.

Kaisia shook her head. “We keep nocturnal hours. You’ll get used to it.”

Elain shuddered, the water rippling around her. She hated the night, the way the dark and cold always crept in, tried to sit as close to the fire as she could as soon as the sun set.

Kaisia peered into the water. “I don’t think you’ll get any cleaner than you are with how flirty the bath is. Up.”

Any guilt Elain felt immediately disappeared. She doubted Kaisia was any better when she first came here, had probably made the bath water even darker.

Kaisia tossed a towel at Elain as soon as she stood up, and she barely managed to catch it before it fell into the water. Elain wrapped it around herself, couldn’t help but sink into the fluffy fabric, the warmth it offered.

Elain stepped out of the tub, and took the white dress Kaisia offered. It matched the one she wore, the design plain but the fabric finer than anything Elain had worn since she was a child. She slipped it on, and then took the auburn cloak Kaisia held, the color matching Jurian’s uniform.

“Walk,” Kaisia ordered, heading to the door. Elain followed mutely, slipping on the soft leather shoes waiting by the exit before entering back into the dark hallway.

This time, no one stared at Elain as she walked through the servants quarters, the new dress and clothes marking her undeniably as someone who belonged among them. They headed deeper into the house, further down into the dark basement, past rows and rows of identical looking wooden doors.

Kaisia stopped in front of one near the end of the impossibly long hallway.

“Ours,” she said, pulling out two silver keys. She handed one to Elain, using the other to unlock the door. “The room for those who’ve arrived in the last month.”

The room was cramped, but bigger than the one room Elain shared with her three sisters. Five beds and dressers stood around the room, four already clearly occupied, the bed covers slightly askew and a few personal belongings strewn atop the dressers.

Elain sat down on the only undisturbed bed, the one closest to the door.

“Duke always wants us to give the new people a night to settle in,” Kaisia said, leaning against the doorway. “I assume you’ll be fine?”

Elain nodded. “Don’t let me keep you from your work.”

“Be ready by sundown tomorrow to start,” Kaisia ordered.

-

Elain squared her shoulders as she stood in the line of identically dressed women, all in white with their hair pulled back in low buns.

“There’s always more women than men,” Kaisia hissed from in front of her, “so we always get stuck with the worst jobs.”

Elain nodded, desperately trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. She could imagine all sorts of horrible tasks, from scrubbing the privy to washing the horse stalls.

Privately, so privately she didn’t dare whisper it out loud, she prayed to whatever gods were left that she’d be assigned to the gardens, that she might be permitted to work during the day.

The line was quickly shortening, taking Elain closer and closer to her taskmistress. Vassa, the girls had warned her, was a cruel headmistress, but a fair one, would reassign better tasks to whoever worked hardest.

In front of her, Kaisia got sent to hang laundry with a sigh of relief, and then it was Elain in front of the pretty redhead.

The woman, probably only a few years older than Elain, if that, cast a discerning blue eye over her.

“So you’re the pretty one then?”

Elain stared at her mutely, unsure of how she should answer. 

“Not very smart though,” Vassa muttered, before turning around and thrusting a silver tray in Elain’s hands. “Take this up to the master then.”

“I don’t know where—“

“Next,” Vassa called, forcing Elain out of line.

“That’s the worst job,” Kaisia said, sounding sympathetically. “No one wants to spend too much time around the Duke.”

“Where do I take this?” Elain asked desperately. From all that she’d heard about the Lord, she doubted he’d take well to having his breakfast late.

“There’s two cups,” Kaisia muttered. “Fuck. One of the Duke’s brothers is here.”

Elain paled. She’d been prepared to see the Duke, knew running into him at some point during her stay was unavoidable. But serving him and his brother—

“Go up the stairs, take the first left, up another set, and then the Duke’s study is the first door on the right,” Kaisia said. “Just keep your eyes down and don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Elain wanted to ask her to wait, ask if they could switch jobs, but Kaisia turned down the hallway that led to the laundry room as Elain’s feet continued to carry her towards the main part of the house.

If asked, Elain would never be able to say how she made it in front of the study, swung the large cherry door open, and stepped inside without dropping the tray and fleeing, but she did, eyes glued to her feet as she shuffled inside.

“All I’m asking is that you pretend to take this seriously,” came a male voice. It seemed to drip arrogance, the words cut with an intangible sense of cruelty.

“As much as I delight in the knowledge something I do bothers you, I have no plans to change things,” came the response, this voice lower, a rumble that Elain felt in her belly.

Elain dared look up enough to see where to set the tray, and saw the two red headed males sitting on opposite sides of an immense desk.

Both were unfairly attractive, matching high cheekbones and sculpted jaws, even as Elain felt her gaze pulled towards the one further from her. His eyes, one russet, the other made of golden metal, were trained on the man across from him, no doubt his brother. Deep, gouged scars ran from his eyebrow down to his cheek on the left side, the same as that golden eye. His hair fell down to his shoulders, a contrast to the close cut of the other.

The Duke. Elain had heard the stories of how he’d lost the eye, mouthing off to one of the Queens from across the sea, how she’d ripped it out with her nails as the King watched on. A lesson for his arrogance.

And even with the scaring, he had to be the most beautiful man Elain had ever seen.

“I’m taking time out of my life to deal with this,” hissed the man closer to her. 

“You think I wanted this?” the Duke asked, pointing at the exposed skin of his hand.

Elain squinted, nothing for the first time that the Duke’s skin was several shades darker than that of his brother.

Probably a bastard. No wonder he got stuck with the shittiest of the five duchies. 

Elain took a step closer, clearing her throat softly. She doubted either of the King’s sons would take well to her eavesdropping, only hoped she wouldn’t be punished too severely for what she’d already heard.

“What am I going to do when I have a family? It’s bad enough Callum begged off next month because he knocked up his wife again,” the Duke’s brother continued as if he hadn’t heard.

“Ah yes,” the Duke sighed, “Callum, always living up to our father’s expectations. Although your argument falls flat when I never see you pursuing any of the women who follow you around.”

“Sir—“ Elain said, voice just above a whisper.

That caught the brother’s attention, both sitting straight up in their seats and turning to look at her.

“Didn’t they teach you not to interrupt?” sneered the paler of the brothers, Eris, if Elain’s hazy memory of the royal portraits was anything to go off of.

“I can come back,” Elain says, face burning.

The Duke waved his hand over the desk. “Just set it here.”

Elain nodded, eyes glued to the floor as she stepped between the men.

“They always send the new ones up,” the Duke said, speaking over her. “I think Vassa likes to taunt me with my bad decisions.”

If possible, Elain felt her face grow warmer, the shame burning brighter. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor, disappear from the Duke’s gaze.

“Like Vassa doesn’t have her own bad decisions to contend with,” Eris jeered.

Elain tried to set the tray down as gently as possible, lest the teacups rattle and draw any more attention to her poor job.

“What’s your name?” asked the Duke, as she took a step back.

“Elain Archeron, your grace.”

The Duke nodded. “In the future, Elain, please knock before entering.”

“Sorry, sir,” Elain said, curtsying low even as her stomach twisted into knots at the way the Duke said her name. 

She cursed herself internally. As a child she’d had a ridiculous fantasy that she’d marry into the royal family, become a princess. It was just that, a childish dream, but her stomach apparently hadn’t fully caught up.

“You’re dismissed,” the Duke said, turning back to his brother.

Elain gave another bobbed curtsy before darting for the exit, walking as quickly as she could without running.

“Awful good curtsy for a peasant,” Eris said, just before Elain shut the door.

-

Elain fell into something close to a rhythm over the few days, dropping off the Duke’s breakfast tray before returning to Vassa to be sent off to clean something in the already spotless manor. She barely had time to eat the dinner given to all the servants, something simple albeit filling, before collapsing into bed.

She was kept so busy she didn’t have time to worry about her sisters, wonder how they were doing with just the two of them. Feyre and Nesta had always been too independent to spend much time alone together, both too stubborn to concede anything. Elain had always acted as a mediator between them, and she hoped they were getting along if only for her sake.

But sometimes, just when she was hovering on the line between being awake and asleep, she would think about the Duke. Eris was often with him in the mornings, sitting on the opposite side of the office, the tension in the room palpable. After that first day, neither spoke to her, but Lucien gave her a small smile of acknowledgement before returning to whatever paperwork he was dealing with. And if her stomach felt a little funny every time, then who could blame her. He was unfairly handsome.

As the end of her first week approached, everyone seemed to be nervous, the hallways teeming with pent up energy.

On the seventh night, there was no tray. The servants stood in the hallway in small clumps, tension seeming to radiate from them. Even Kaisia seemed to be affected, strands of dark hair escaping from her usually neat braid. They’d all been told to report early, the last of the sun’s rays just barely shining over the horizon. Elain plastered herself to the window, hoping to soak up as much as she could.

Vassa strode in and everything went dead silent. 

“It’s your day off,” she announced. “Do what you wish.”

Kaisia’s hand was around Elain’s before she could fully process the words, pulling her away.

“Where are we going?” Elain asked, utterly baffled. She was sure even if Kaisia did have something planned for the evening, it wouldn’t include Elain. They hardly knew each other, and Kaisia always seemed mildly annoyed at having to talk to her.

Kaisia flung open their bedroom door and shoved Elain inside.

“Don’t leave,” she ordered, before slipping back out. 

Elain stared at the door. This whole thing was weird. She’d never seen Kaisia look even slightly shaken but here she was, acting genuinely terrified. But if this was really her night off, she could sleep now, and spend the next morning outside, see the sun for the first time.

Kaisia returned to the room with the other three girls. They looked just as confused as Elain felt.

“Kaisia, what are we doing,” Dacia, one of their dorm mates, asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Have you been here on the nights off before?” Kaisia demanded.

Dacia shook her head. “No. But neither have you.”

“Well I’ve lived in the castle,” Kaisia said, slamming the door. The click of the lock seemed to reverberate through the room. “You don’t want to be out there.”

Elain sat down hard on her bed. “For how long?”

“Until the sun’s up,” Kaisia replied, plopping down on her own.

“This is stupid,” snapped Marcie, heading to the door. “I have things I want to do on my night off.”

Her hand hit the doorknob when they heard the first snarl.

The sound was unlike anything Elain had heard before, something deeper, more aggressive than any of the dogs who occasionally got into fights near the village.

Marcie backed up, face paling. “What was that?”

“The reason you don’t want to go out,” Kaisia answered. 

A scream echoed through the manor. Elain’s hair stood on end. The nose was masculine, the cry one of pure pain.

Marcie leaped onto her bed, pulling the covers up over her.

Around the room, the girls followed her example, even Kaisia. Elain swallowed down a hysterical giggle at the sight. They were nothing better than little girls, hoping the monsters wouldn’t be able to get them while they stayed beneath the blankets.

The snarls and barks continued overhead, although mercifully there were no more screams.

“Is this what it’s like every month?” Dacia asked, her voice small.

“Yes. And in the castle,” Kaisia answered. “The King would make us lock all our doors, stay in bed. Everyone who left was killed.”

Elain shivered.

“So new girl,” Yevah, the one of them who’d been there the longest, said when there was a break in the noise. “How did you end up here?”

Elain raised her head from where she’d buried it in her knees. She knew what she was doing, and was grateful for any attempt at distraction. “My father’s ships sank and he couldn’t pay off the debts he’d taken on to send them off.”

Kaisia snorted. “Of course it’s not his fault.”

“What does that mean?” Elain demanded.

Kaisia rolled her eyes. “It’s never their fault you’re here, always something out of their control. It’s because the ships sank, not because he took on more debt then he could ever dream to pay off.”

“Fine,” Elain said, feeling her heckles raise. What did Kaisia know of her father. “Then how did the Duke get you?”

“My brother sold me. Liked gambling more than he did winning and used me to clear his debts.” Kaisia gave a bitter laugh. “I’ll be here until I die.”

“Oh,” Elain said, feeling stupid.

A shout ripped through the room, the words too muffled to be made out, but even Elain could recognize the cruel tone of Eris.

Kaisia flinched, pulling the covers up to her chin, a dazed look on her face. Elain wanted to offer some consoling words, do something but there was nothing. Besides, she doubted Kaisia wanted to hear anything from her.

Elain flopped down on the bed, rolling over so her back faced the door. She pulled her pillow up over her head, desperate to block out the sound, the growls, but it was impossible.

-

Exhaustion must have overtaken her eventually, because Elain woke up hours later, her face pressed against the pillow. She bolted upright, glancing at the window to check she wasn’t too late. She threw on one of her clean uniforms and darted out of the room, racing down the servant’s hall. 

If she could just make it…

Elain threw open the door that led out to the garden, eager to feel the sun on her face.

She’d just missed it, the very last pink of the sky hanging low over the horizon.

Elain wanted to collapse, to sob at the injustice of it all. A week without seeing the sun and she’d missed her chance.

It was better than nothing, Elain told herself. The words felt hollow, the lie bitter in her mouth. She stepped out into the garden, her slippered feet sinking into the snow as she tried to chase whatever light she could.

She could just feel the last of the warmth against her skin. Elain closed her eyes and tilted her head up. This way she could trick herself, pretend it was just the watery light of a winter sun trapped beneath clouds, and not the signs of it setting, sending her back into darkness.

Elain waited as long as possible, until night had fully settled over the garden, before trudging back towards the manor.

Her eyes scanned over the red brick house, catching on a figure standing on a balcony. He raised a single hand in greeting, and Elain tentatively waved back.

She squinted, trying to make out who it was. She hadn’t seen anyone in the house aside from Lucien and Eris, doubted there was anyone else who lived there. Wondered if Lucien felt lonely, when his brothers left.

Elain admonished herself. He was her jailer, what did she care if he was lonely? 

Still, she thought she recognized the long red hair, tied back in a low ponytail, could just make out the glint of a golden eye watching her as she slipped back into the manor.

-

Elain had just enough time to rush back to her dorm and throw her hair up into a bun at the nape of her neck before they had to meet in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper looked tired, even more so than Elain felt. She shoved the tray into her hands with uncharacteristic roughness, the force nearly knocking over the teacup.

Elain managed to steady it just in time, keeping the ceramic from shattering on the floor.

Vassa glared at her. “Go.”

Elain nodded, hurrying past the woman and up to the Duke’s study.

He was waiting for her, hands folded neatly in front of him on the wooden desk. He looked exhausted, dark circles she’d never seen before hanging heavy beneath his eyes. His chin was dotted with red stubble, like he hadn’t had time to shave that morning.

“Thank you, Elain,” he said, rising to his full height to take it from her.

He was taller than she’d imagined, her eyes just barely hitting the tops of her shoulders.

“Of course, your grace,” she said, bobbing a curtsy once the breakfast set was firmly in his hands.

“Can you do me a favor?” Lucien asked.

Elain peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes, meeting his multicolored gaze. He was staring at her intently, almost as if he was inspecting her.

She nodded.

“Send Vassa up here.”

Elain nodded again. A surge of disappointment rose up within her. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but something more than send up the housekeeper was for sure.

“Yes, your grace.”

Elain hurried back down, keeping her head low.

“The Duke wants to see you,” she said as soon as she was back in front of Vassa.

The housekeeper swore, a litany of curses that would have made a sailor blush heating Elain’s cheeks.

“Fine,” she snapped, turning quickly towards the exit, skirts swishing around her feet.

Elain didn’t have a chance to open her mouth, ask what she was supposed to do next, before the woman was gone in a flash of red hair.

With a sigh, Elain headed to her room. It was wash day, maybe she’d be lucky enough to go now, while the water was still lukewarm instead of freezing.

She swung open the door.

Kaisia was already in there, a white bandage pressed to her neck. She whirled around, guilt written across her face.

“What’s that?” Elain asked, taking a step towards her.

“Nothing.” Kaisia stood up, using her free hand to toss dark curls  over her neck. “I’m going to take a bath.”

Elain blocked the door. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Kaisia said. “Now move.”

“Show me,” Elain demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Elain, move,” Kaisia snapped, taking a step towards her. Elain grabbed her wrist, the one holding the gauze up to her neck, and tugged.

“Stop—” Kaisia cried but it was already too late. The white bandage fluttered to the floor, revealing two red dots marking her otherwise unblemished skin.

“Fuck,” Elain said. It was like the rumors said, girls turning up with two puncture wounds on their necks, drained of blood. There was something wrong with the King and his sons.

“Did Lucien?” The image that popped into Elain’s mind, one of Lucien, mouth attached to Kaisia’s neck, drinking, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Kaisia shook his head. “Not the Duke.”

Elain didn’t want to interrogate the relief she felt. “Eris then.”

Kaisia tried to shove past her. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sure, until you’re dead and he turns to one of us,” Elain snarled, shoving back.

“Eris doesn’t take anyone without permission.”

“Because Eris is what you think of when you hear trustworthy,” Elain scoffed. She barely knew him and she knew that.

“I grew up in the castle, remember? My brother’s still there, kissing Beron’s ass like anyone will ever think he’s worth shit. I know what I’m doing and I trust Eris.”

“Why are you defending him,” Elain demanded. “Sure he didn’t make you but what if he takes it too far? What if you end up another one of those missing girls, just a bloodless body on the side of the river somewhere?”

“It’s only the King who does that, none of his sons.” Elain must have looked incredulous because Kaisia glared at her. “He’s been drinking from me since we were young, I know what I’m doing.”

“And Lucien?” Elain demanded. “What about his drinking habits?”

“I don’t know what he does.”

Elain snorted.

“I don’t,” Kaisia insisted. “He was always different, hidden away. Spent all his time with his mother instead of the rest of the children. If he fed, I never heard of it.”

Elain sighed but stepped to the side, clearing the doorway.

“You won’t tell,” Kaisia asked, eyes wide.

Elain gestured to the empty room. “Who could I.”

Kaisia’s look of relief was genuine. “Thank you.” Elain just held open the door, letting Kaisia lead the way to the bathing chambers.

-

Elain spent the whole walk up to the study torn. 

To ask the Duke or not?

He was her best option if she wanted a straight answer, to find out what Kaisia wasn’t telling her. Because she doubted Kaisia had told her anything close to the whole truth.

But to ask the Duke.

Elain was still undecided when she nudged open the door. The Duke was sitting in the same position again, lounging far back in his chair, brown boots propped up on the desk. He’d shaved, much to Elain’s disappointment.

“Your grace,” she said, sliding the silver tray onto the desk and giving a small curtsey.

He lowered his papers. “Thank you Elain.”

Elain turned, heading to the door, before sighing. “Your grace?”

The Duke quirked a brow.

“I saw something last night. Something strange.”

“Strange how,” the Duke asked, setting what he was reading down and leaning forward in his seat.

“I saw one of the girls and she had marks on her neck.” Elain opted to leave Kaisia out of it, didn’t know how much the Duke knew of his brother’s activities.

“Marks?” The Duke asked.

Elain met his eyes. “Bite marks.”

The Duke’s demeanor seemed to change in an instant. His face became a cool mask, something dangerous flickering in his good eye.

“And who do you think would have bitten her?” he asked, voice deadly calm.

Elain swallowed, realizing, for the first time, that the Duke was a very dangerous man indeed. Beneath the neatly pressed suit was something different, something other than human.

“I don’t know, your grace,” she lied. “But I’ve heard rumors in the village, of creatures who lurk at night.”

She knew the minute she said it she’d gone too far. 

The Duke’s face was a wash of fury as he rose to his full height.

“You know nothing,” he snarled. “You’re just a village peasant who’s mind played a trick on her in the dark.”

“But—“ Elain started, even as she took a step back, towards the door. Her heart fluttered in her chest, pounding wildly.

“No,” the Duke shouted. “You will say nothing of this to anyone. Now get out.”

The Duke’s tone filled Elain with fear, terror she hadn’t felt since she was young and the debtors came for her father.

She turned and fled out the door, back to the servants quarters without looking back, took Vassa’s orders to scrub chamber pots without question because it meant she would be busy, didn’t have to go back to the Duke’s study.

-

The next morning Elain woke to see something lying on her pillow. She lifted it up, holding it to the candle on her bedside table to take it in. A silver ring with the most beautiful pearl Elain had seen in her life on top, better than in any of the jewelry her father had given her when he’d returned from long business trips, perfectly smooth and round.

 Elain knew what it meant. There was only one person in the manor who had the ability to get such a perfect ring, to have it slipped on her pillow without anyone noticing.

Sure enough, Vassa was waiting for her in the hall. “You’ve been upgraded,” she said, glaring down her nose at Elain. “You’ll be bringing the Lord all his meals, no more cleaning.”

She shoved a dress in Elain’s hands, nearly identical to the one she wore except for the gold embroidery along the help and sleeves. “Go change, dinner staff has to be presentable.”

Elain took it mutely, quickly changing in the room while the other women watched. Dacia and Marcie buzzed excitedly, sighing over how handsome the Duke was, how they wished it was them, while Yevah stared with barely contained jealousy. Only Kaisia seemed unexcited, grabbing Elain’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze of support on the way out.

The Duke was waiting for Elain, not behind his desk but in one of the leather chairs by the bookshelf she’d never seen used.

“Elain,” he said, rising to his feet as soon as she entered.

“Your grace,” she replied, keeping her eyes glued to the table. Her heart was in her throat, hands trembling slightly at the memory of his anger.

“I would like to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was uncalled for.”

Elain just set the tray down on the table next to him. “It is your right as Duke to express yourself as you please.”

The Duke growled low in his throat. “No it’s not. And I’m sorry.”

“You are forgiven, your grace,” Elain said.

“Lucien,” the Duke said, plopping back down in his seat. “If you are to continue to serve me I would prefer you call me Lucien.”

“You are forgiven, Lucien,” Elain corrected. She liked the way the name sounded, the way he smiled warmly up at her. “And your gift of the ring was wholly unnecessary.”

Elain had seen the way the boys in the village seemed to lord gifts over their girls’ heads, demanding favors as a sort of exchange. Elain didn’t want to know what the Duke expected in return.

“You were scared,” Lucien replied, like that settled matters.

“People are scared all the time,” Elain said. “They don’t all get jewelry.”

A single, surprised laugh burst from Lucien. “My father always makes my mother scared,” he said, sobering. “I don’t want to be like him.

Elain tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, if only for something to do with her hands. “I would have preferred you put it towards the debt.”

Lucien looked at Elain like he’d never seen her before, like he was inspecting her, trying to figure something out.

“You don’t know, do you? How bad it is.”

Elain swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “It’s a modest sum, and as soon has my father’s knee heals enough for him to find work—“

“Elain, it’s millions,” Lucien interrupted. “It’s more than my annual allowance. I’m still not sure how your father even had that much to lose.’

“Oh.” It was the only thing she could say , the only thing she could think. Elain felt like her body was deflating, any hope she had of leaving soon, of going back to her sisters fading away before her eyes. She was just like Kaisia, trapped here until she died. 

“I thought you knew,” Lucien said. “I thought someone would have told you.”

“My sisters need dowries.” It was a stupid thing to say, but it was all she could think about. No one would marry Feyre or Nesta without dowries, take on that much risk without insurance. And if their father was truly millions in debt…

“Do you want them to work here too?” Lucien asked.

Elain tried to picture it, Nesta scrubbing floors, Feyre keeping her eyes down as she delivered the breakfast tray. She couldn’t. They wouldn’t fit into this world, had been born to lead, not to serve.

“No,” Elain said. “Better they don’t know.” She forced a smile onto her face. “But thank you for your offer.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien said again.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said brightly. “Best not to worry about it.”

-

Serving Lucien was all Elain had time to do. She delivered his breakfast, set the lunch table, brought lunch, brought it back, sent up tea, had just enough time to take dinner, and then had to retrieve the nightcaps.

Her feet hurt from running back and forth through the manor, to all the different rooms Lucien took his meals in, and her skin was tender from the daily baths Vassa insisted she take.

“The Duke doesn’t want to smell you,” she sneered after that first night, sending Elain off to the bath room.

But she wasn’t scrubbing floors or chamber pots, something Elain was immensely grateful for.

And Lucien was surprisingly funny, making small quips as Elain offered him food, taking delight every time she offered one in return. At least when he was alone. Whenever Eris was there he was uncharacteristically curt, giving nothing more than a nod without breaking whatever conversation the two of them were having.

But Eris was gone more and more often, off in another part of the manor. So was Kaisia, a fact Elain noted, and then chose not to bring up, even as tension seemed to radiate between them.

The same tension that radiated through the halls as the full moon approached, less than a week away.

Elain brought Lucien’s dinner up that night to see his head in his hands, a crisp letter in front of him. Elain recognized the seal, the blood red wax and curled crown that marked a letter from the King.

“What’s happened?” Elain asked, holding the tray aloft. Lucien’s desk was strewn with papers, covering every inch of wood and leaving her no place to set it down.

“A new tax has come from the King,” Lucien said, running a hand through his long hair. “Another punishment we can’t afford to bear.”

Elain shuddered at the thought of another tax from the King, more of the meager crops her village managed to grow being taken and sent away to feed people who already had too much, sending the silver spoon on the tray rattling.

Lucien took it from her, sweeping some of the papers onto the floor and setting the tray on the cleared space.

“Does Vassa think I’m starving?” he asked, eyes going wide at the sight of the massive bowl of soup.

Elain snorted, her eyes roving over the thin white shirt, thin enough to make out the chorded muscles beneath. Lucien looked far from starving. Elain had never seen him train but she knew he must to look like that, to build the muscles she knew lie hidden beneath his crisp pants.

“Maybe she just wants to show off,” Elain said. “I think she made this one herself.”

“Typical,” Lucien muttered. He gestured at the chair opposite his desk. “Sit, have some. I won’t finish it and I bet it’s better than what they serve downstairs.”

Elain did, taking his offered spoon. 

She had to contain her groan at the taste. It was more flavor than she could ever remember having in her life. The food they gave the servants was good, better than anything she ate in the cottage but this—

“Good?” Lucien asked, his eye sparkling with amusement.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Elain said, handing him the spoon. 

Lucien tried the soup, a slight moan escaping his throat. Elain steadfastly ignored the way the sound sent goosebumps up her arms. “Vassa’s been holding out on me too.”

He offered her another spoonful and Elain took it gratefully. The broth was flavorful, but thin, containing less meat and vegetables than she would have expected for a Duke.

Although if the King really wanted more from them—

“How will you pay the tax?” Elain asked. “There’s already too little in the villages.”

Lucien signed, ripping a chunk off the hunk of bread Vassa had sent with the bowl. “I’ll dig into my storehouse. Beron just wants to punish me anyway, remind me how much he loathes my position.”

“If he didn’t want you, then why not make one of the other two…” Elain trailed off, the unsavory words hanging in the air.

“Why not make one of my other two brothers Duke and kill me off instead,” Lucien finished, sweeping some of the letters into a pile. “There’s benefits to being my mother’s favorite. She knows too much for my father to do anything, things that would make your skin crawl. But she can’t spare me from this.” Lucien gestured at the letter with his hand. 

“Did you like growing up in the palace,” Elain asked after a pregnant pause.

Lucien softened slightly. “It was different. I spent most of my time avoiding my father, hiding out in the library, reading all the books on diplomacy I could find.”

“Were you close to your brothers?” Elain asked, thinking of Eris spending two months here instead of his own estate.

Lucien shook his head. “No, at least not when we were young. I was the last born, and I think they all knew I was different, resented that.”

Different because of his father Elain wondered who the man was, if the King was willing to raise his son as his own, let him inherit land instead of disowning him and hiding the whole thing.

“And you?” Lucien asked. 

“My sisters,” Elain sighed, trying to think how to put in the words the tension that always seemed to exist in the cottage, and the love that ran stronger beneath it. “They’re very protective.”

Lucien nodded. She wondered if it wasn’t dissimilar for him. If Eris had traveled to help him with whatever his problem was, there couldn’t be that much animosity anymore.

“You know,” Lucien said, “I met your sister once.”

Elain perked up at that. “You did?”

“I was young, probably only eight or nine, and your father came to the palace to talk to our trade ambassadors. He brought Nesta along with him, in hopes of attracting one of my brothers.”

“Did it work?” Elain asked. She vaguely remembered, the year before her mother died, of their house being in disarray, of new dresses and jewels being brought in for her father’s journey to the palace, of a new governess being brought in to teach her and Nesta how to dance.

“She made quite the impression on Eris,” Lucien said. “The girl who didn’t seem impressed by him and his princely status. But your father’s ships sank before anything could ever come of it.”

Elain tried to imagine Nesta being married to Eris, of the bite marks being taken out of her neck, and shivered.

“Are you liking it here?” Lucien asked, changing the subject. “Vassa not being too hard on you?”

Elain chose her words carefully. “It’s…different…than I thought it would be.”

“Different good or different bad?”

“Just different.” She could tell Lucien wanted to ask more, didn’t know how to tell him that he was less scary than rumored in the village, less cruel. But still the fear lingered, of whatever him and Eris were, why they stayed in the dark.

She was spared answering by her spoon scraping the bottom of the bowl. Lucien seemed just as surprised as she was, Elain hadn’t realized how long they’d been sitting there.

“I’ll let you go now,” Lucien said, sounding regretful.

Elain quickly stood, dropping into a low curtsy. “Thank you your grace.”

“Lucien,” the Duke called after her as she hurried out of her study. Sunlight was starting to peek through the curtains on the windows in the hall, sending light scattering on the floor. Elain’s hands itched to throw one open, to let the light stream in while the sun rose, but she resisted. They were closed for a reason, even if that reason remained frustratingly elusive.

Kaisia was the only one awake when Elain returned, the other three of their dorm mates asleep in their beds. Kaisia was still in her day dress, a fresh bandage stuck on her neck.

“Late night?” she asked.

“I could say the same to you,” Elain said, pulling out her nightgown. “You’ve been gone a lot.”

Kaisia shrugged. “Vassa has no complaints.”

“Sure,” Elain said, pulling the nightgown over her head. “And you spending time with Eris has nothing to do with it.”

“I’m not doing anything you aren’t with Lucien.” Kaisia said, voice haughty.

Elain flushed hot. “I’m not doing anything other than my job.”

“And I’m doing mine,” Kaisia snapped.

“Fine,” Elain said. “Pretend that’s it. But don’t come asking for my help when it all goes wrong.” 

Kaisia laughed. “Trust me Elain, I know much more about what I’m getting into then you do.”

“Maybe because you don’t tell me anything,” Elain snarled. She turned to fluff her pillow, hitting it hard with the palm of her hand. “Except you don’t want to, you just want to feel like you’re better than the rest of us. Well guess what, we’re all working in the same place.”

“For now,” Kaisia sneered. “Until you bat your pretty brown eyes and get Lucien to fix all your problems.”

“Fuck you,” Elain screamed, throwing her pillow at Kaisia.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up.” The pillow flew back across the room to Elain’s bed.

“Shut up, both of you,” yelled Yevah. “None of us want to hear it.”

Elain glared at Kaisia before blowing out the candle at her nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. 

-

The two women danced around each other for the next couple days, Elain making sure she was never alone in a room with Kaisia. It meant Elain had even less people to talk to. The other three girls were nice enough, but they all worked in the laundry room and all the gossip they had to talk about never included anyone Elain knew.

Lucien had been her reprieve, sharing dinner with her every night. After that first dinner Vassa had started sending up two plates, one for each of them, even as she glared at Elain with clear disapproval every time she came to collect it.

“So,” Lucien said, when they were halfway through their plate of stewed beef and vegetables, “what exactly did you mean by different?”

Elain sighed, glancing at the closed window behind Lucien. “Truthfully? I miss the sun.”

Lucien cocked his head. “Really?”

“I had a garden, right outside our cottage. I would try to grow whatever food I could during the summer. Occasionally we’d get a few potatoes or such, but mostly it was nice to be out of the cottage, to feel useful.”

“I know what you mean,” Lucien said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “The King,” Lucien cleared his throat, “my father always kept night hours. As a child, I would sneak out while everyone was asleep, just sit in the gardens to have a few moments alone, soak in the sunlight. It was the only time I could escape…” Lucien trailed off and Elain chose not to call him out on the obvious lie. To ask why he would need to sneak away. “But you get used to it eventually.”

“If you like the sun so much, why not change things?”

“I’ve adapted,” Lucien said with a shrug. “And in many ways staying in the dark makes things easier. Less complicated.”

Elain shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing it.”

Lucien reached into his breast pocket to pull out a gold watch. He check the time, a grin breaking out across his face. A real one, not the half smiles he so often gave. It made him unfairly handsome, like the story book princes Elain had dreamed about. “Come on, then, we have some time.”

“Time for what?” Elain asked, taking Lucien’s offered hand. It was surprisingly warm, his grip firm as he tugged her out of her seat and through the study doors.

“You’ll see,” he said, dragging her through the halls. Elain had to run to keep up with his long strides, her slippers slapping against the floor. He practically bounced with every step, light in a way she’d never seen him. His eagerness made him look younger, and he seemed to shed the weariness he always had, the weight of the Duchy that lay heavy on his shoulders.

He ground to a halt in front of the doors that led out to the garden. Elain nearly slammed into him, bracing herself with a hand on his bicep.

“Here,” he said, throwing open the doors. The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, casting everything in a warm glow.

Elain stepped out onto the grass, steps hesitant. Lucien’s fingers slipped out of her grasp, letting her go. It didn’t feel real as brightness flooded the world, like it was all some cosmic joke being played on her, ready to be ripped away and plunge her back into darkness.

She could feel the warmth against her skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to linger no matter how deeply she burrowed into her bed, a symptom of the night.

The frozen grass crunched under her feet as she ventured further outside, into the gardens. In the light it was more beautiful than she’d imagined, the hedges a shade of bright emerald she didn’t think was possible, especially not in their cold little region.

Overhead, a streak of fire shot through the sky. She gasped, whirling around to look at Lucien, check if he’d seen it. “What was that?”

Lucien, still standing in the doorway, glanced up. “Vassa likes to have her fun.”

It wasn’t the strangest thing Elain had heard since she’d arrived, and she chose to let it go, save her questions for another day.

She held out a hand to Lucien. “You won’t join me?”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more,” Lucien said, ruefully, “but I can’t.”

“Oh,” Elain said. She didn’t know why it stung so much, why she cared, but it did. She wanted Lucien with her, to show her around the gardens.

Lucien must have sensed her hesitation. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll wait for you.”

Elain nodded. It was fine. She was going to enjoy this moment for all she could. She drifted further into the garden, down the winding path. She turned back at one point, to see if Lucien had changed his mind but he just waved her on.

It was still too cold for flowers to bloom but the garden was beautiful regardless. Hidden staircases led to several secret spots, smaller beds surrounded by hedges. Elain could imagine two lovers sneaking off to one, the idea so achingly romantic her heart fluttered.

In the middle of it all was a huge pond, the top still frozen over. The few birds that hadn’t flown south hovered around it, no doubt in search of something edible. Elain wished she had some scraps of bread to toss them.

Elain sat on one of the benches that surrounded the perimeter, listening to the slight titters of the birds. The manor felt very far away, the responsibilities and anxiety so foreign they couldn’t touch her. 

Between her cloak and the puddle of sunshine she’d found, Elain was pleasantly warm, her eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but Elain had a fuzzy memory of being pulled into strong arms, of a kiss pressed to her forehead. She woke up in her bed, tucked under the covers. She felt less chilled than usual, as if someone had heated the sheets before pulling them up over her.

-

That night was the full moon, their one night off that month. Elain sat huddled on the bed, back turned to Kaisia as the snarls and barks of whatever came sounded through the manor.

The room was silent, and Elain longed to talk to Kaisia, if only to distract herself, but she wouldn’t. Let the other girl apologize to her first.

The next snarl seemed to be closer, but no. That was just Elain’s mind playing tricks on her in the dark, making things scarier than they needed to be.

A howl rang out, louder than any of the other noises they’d heard. Echoing like it was in the hallway.

Elain sat up, her actions mirrored by Kaisia.

The two looked at each other, Elain seeing her own fear reflected in Kaisia’s face.

Another snarl. This one was definitely closer, sounding in Elain’s ears.

“What’s that?” Marcie asked.

“It’s just our minds playing tricks,” Kaisia said, her tone uncertain.

And then the bang sounded, as if something large had slammed into their door. The wood rattled, but held firm.

“Shit,” Kaisia said.

Another hit to the door. It seemed to shake more this time.

Elain swallowed. She didn’t want to know what was on the other side, what was so desperate to get to them.

Although she wasn’t sure if she was going to have a choice as a third hit had the wood buckling, splintering in parts.

There were shouts now, human voices swallowed up by the growling that rang in Elain’s ears.

“Please,” whimpered someone, Elain couldn’t say who.

Elain pulled her knees up to her chest, waiting for the inevitable.

The fourth strike was too much for the door to take. It flew off its hinges, shards flying into the room. The noise of it clattering to the floor was deafening, taking up too much of the small space.

Elain would have thought the animal was a wolf, if not for the bright red color of its fur, gleaming like flames in the glowing candle light. It was huge, easily the size of a small horse, and muscles shifted under its coat as it stalked towards them, teeth bared to show long, gleaming white fangs.

Someone was screaming, and it took Elain a second to realize it was her.

The animal swung its head, its eyes, one amber and one a shiny gold, locking in her as he prowled closer. He looked almost curious, that horrible growling stopping, if only for a moment.

“No,” shouted Eris as he ran into the room, a rope in hand. From one end hung a heavy metal hook, razor sharp at the end.

It drew the animal’s attention, his head swiveling to look at the lord.

“No,” Eris repeated, advancing slowly.

Vassa and Jurian followed him, both holding similar weapons.

The beast growled, the noise coming from deep in his throat.

Eris pounced, tossing the hook. The metal caught, sinking deep into the animal’s shoulder. He howled, bright red blood welling from the wound.

“Come on,” Eris growled, pulling on the rope.

The beast whimpered in pain but stood firm, resisting even as the hook dug in deeper.

Jurian crept along the wall, pulling something from his belt. A collar Elain realized after a second, a great black one with two rings attacked.

Eris gave a sharp tug on the rope at the same time Jurian lunged, wrapping the leather around the beast’s neck. Vassa followed him, hooking her rope into one of the rings while Jurian did the same.

The two of them pulled, while Eris dropped his own rope. The line went slack, the hook finally stopping its destructive path.

Elain didn’t know what inhuman strength Vassa and Jurian processed, but as they pulled onto rope the beast slid across the floor, claws gouging deep marks into the stone.

“Come,” Vassa grunted, sweat beading at her forehead.

The beast howled, thrashing violently against the grasp the two servants had on him. It was futile as he continued to be dragged, out of the room and into the hall. The sound of claws on stone was ear splitting as he fought against the bonds.

“Are you okay?” Eris asked, voice surprisingly gentle.

Elain startled, turning to stare at him. But his gaze was trained on Kaisia, who was trembling violently.

“I’m fine,” she choked out.

Eris nodded, shoulders slumping. “Good.”

“What was that,” demanded Yevah.

“None of your concern,” Eris said. His usual haughty tone was back, any sign of concern gone.

“It was in the manor,” Dacia said, her outrage evident. “It could have killed us.”

“A one time occurrence, I assure you,” Eris said. “You’ll all be given the week off as compensation.”

“But—“ Yevah started but Eris had already stormed out of the room, shutting what little remained of the door behind him.

Elain nearly leapt out of her skin when she felt the arm wrap around her, before realizing it was Kaisia. She was still trembling, her whole body shivering. Elain pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I didn’t know,” Kaisia whispered. “I promise I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Elain said.

“I would have told you if I did,” Kaisia insisted. “All I knew about was Eris and his brothers.”

“I know,” Elain assured her. “I know.”

The two of them stayed like that for hours, holding each other for comfort, until the sound of the beast had faded with the dawn.

-

Jurian was waiting for her the next day, his arms crossed over his chest as he paced the hallway. He flashed Elain a sympathetic smile as she stepped out, cloak clutched tightly around her.

He offered her an elbow. “I’m here to take you home.”

Elain gave him a watery smile as she took it, letting him lead her out to the waiting carriage. It was the same one that had taken her to the manor, far grander than the three waiting for the other women. Kaisia had declared she’d be staying, prompting a loud argument with Vassa what was settled when Eris came down and said Kaisia would be staying with him for the week. Kaisia’s glare made it clear he had not discussed it with her prior but she hadn’t refused, not when her alternative was going back to her brother.

Jurian helped her up, and then they were off, back down the same road they came in on. Elain chose to ignore Vassa watching them leave, waving at Jurian until they were out of sight.

“You doing alright?” Jurian asked. “Need anything?”

Elan turned away from the window, where she’d been watching the dark trees pass. “I don’t know.” It was an honest answer. Even if she did know how she felt, she doubted Jurian would be able to do anything to help.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, Elain lost in thought as she tried to figure out what she could tell her sisters, how she could explain what had happened over the past months.

She still hadn’t figured it out when the carriage came to a halt, back in front of her cottage. Jurian swung open the door and helped her down.

“Remember what I told you the first night. If you need me, I’m there. I’ll be with my mother down the road.

Elain managed to give him a weak grin of thanks, and then he was gone, leaving her alone.

A winter of snow had not been kind to the cottage. One of the window shutters had fallen off and the roof seemed to be sagging in the middle, more so than she remembered. 

The door swung open on Elain’s first knock. Feyre, wearing the same nightgown she had been when Elain left, gasped. She pulled Elian into a tight hug and Elain couldn’t help but notice how prominent Feyre’s ribs felt, how she was barely more than skin and bones.

“You’re here,” Feyre cried.

“Who’s here?” The voice of their father sounded thin, and Elain lifted her head to see him sitting by the fire on the same cot he dragged out every night to sleep on.

 “I’m home,” Elain said, stepping into the light of the cabin.

“Elain,” her father gasped, rising on shaky feet. Elain rushed to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you, darling,” he said, burying a hand in her hair.

She stepped back to see Nesta waiting. “You’re back.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“The Duke gave me the week off,” Elain explained.

“And then he’ll whisk you back off in the middle of the night?”

“Lucien keeps night time hours,” Elain explained.

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “He’s Lucien to you?”

Elain felt her cheeks warm. “We’ve talked.”

Nesta snorted, turning back to the bedroom.

“Don’t take it personally,” Feyre whispered. “She’s upset because she’s agreed to marry Thomas Mandray.”

“What?” Elain asked. She remembered Thomas, the way his eyes always seemed to linger too long on the breasts of women in town, how he always seemed to accidentally bump into certain parts of her body.

“More collectors came, and Thomas’ father was willing to pay a dowry for her,” Feyre said. “It covered some of what we owed.”

“And the rest?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Feyre said, even as her voice trembled. “I can sell some furs, it’ll be fine.”

Elain knew from experience that Feyre’s furs never went as far as they hoped. No one in the village had enough money to pay what they were worth, and even if they did, a single woman was easy to take advantage of. But she nodded and let herself be pulled into the bedroom. Lay nestled between Nesta and Feyre, back where she belonged.

-

That morning everything felt slightly wrong. They went through their usual routine, Feyre making a watery porridge she spooned into the bowls as they all sat together at the table and ate. Nesta talked about her upcoming marriage with feigned enthusiasm, bragged about how happy she would be once she was out of the house, how Feyre would finally have time to herself to paint.

Elain listened mutely, forcing down the food even as it tasted like ash in her mouth. She couldn’t help but feel guilty that she was there, one more person for Feyre to feed, especially when Elain saw how little was in the cupboard, just a few pieces of dried meat left from when Feyre was able to hunt in the fall.

“We should go to the market,” Feyre said. “Get stuff for your wedding.”

Nesta agreed and Elain followed them out of the house with a waved goodbye to their father. She couldn’t help but notice how light the coin purse looked in Feyre’s hands, how little they had. Felt guilty with how fine her own cloak was in comparison to her sisters’ threadbare garments.

“What do you think of this one?” Feyre asked, holding up a scrap of lace from one of the stalls.

“It’s nice,” Elain said. It was, but plain. And another sigh of what awaited Nesta. A life of misery, of forcing herself to be smaller, lesser, so as never to overstep her husband.

“Get it,” Nesta said, voice brisk. “It’s the cheapest they have.”

Feyre handed over a coin in exchange for a length. One less coin they had to feed themselves.

“So what’s it like?’ Feyre asked as they walked through the stalls, looking at wares they could never dream of affording. “The Duke’s house?”

“It’s huge,” Elain said. “Bigger than ours ever was.”

“And the Duke?” Nesta asked, tone mocking. “Is he nice and kind and handsome?”

Elain’s cheeks burned. “He is handsome.”

Nesta huffed. “Probably why you’re so eager to go back.”

“I—“ Elain started, desperate to defend herself, but before she could, a shout of Nesta’s name interrupted them.

“Nesta,” called Thomas, lumbering over to where they were.

The glare Nesta gave him was lethal, loathing written clear across her face. Thomas ignored it as he slithered a possessive hand around her waist, pulling her tightly against him. His fingers drifted up, to brush the underside of her breasts.

“How is my wife?”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Nesta snarled, stepping out of his grip. “Not for another month.”

Thomas leered down at her. “Or sooner, if the debtors come calling.”

Elain averted her gaze, staring determinedly at a silver necklace hanging from a mannequin in one of the stalls.

Feyre managed to detangle them, claiming she needed both their help for dinner, and they were out of the market. Nesta rubbed her waist, as if trying to erase the feel of Thomas’ hands on her.

Dinner passed in tense silence, her father asking how the market went as Nesta and Feyre carefully avoided mention of Thomas. Elain hurried off to bed as soon as she could, followed quickly by Nesta and Feyre. Her stomach felt empty, more empty than it has since she went to the manor. It’s a feeling she hadn’t missed.

And lying in bed that night, listening to Feyre’s stomach grumble and Nesta’s silent tears she muffled with the pillow, Elain knew she couldn’t go back to Lucien, not while her sisters had to stay in the cottage.

She slid out of bed, quietly pulling on clothes.

“Where are you going?” Nesta asked, sitting up slightly.

“I have a friend I promised to see,” Elain whispered, slipping out the door before Nesta could ask any more questions. Thankfully Nesta didn’t follow.

The walk down to the cabin Jurian indicated was a short one, the path muddy from the recently melted snow. The door swung open at the first knock, almost as if Jurian was waiting for her.

“What do you need?” No beating around the bush then.

“Take me back,” Elain said.

Jurian’s brows shot up. “That bad?”

“Please,” Elain begged. “I need to go back and talk to Lucien.”

-

The manor was the same as it had been when she’d left, still covered in the same layer of snow. Jurian had needed to call for a carriage, so it had taken a full day of waiting, and the sun setting as they pulled in front of the servant’s entrance.

“Thank you,” Elain said, dashing out of the carriage before Jurian could help her down. She practically ran down the hall, to the servant’s wing.

The household was just stirring, people moving between the bathing chambers and their quarters. Even Vassa wasn’t awake yet, the spot she usually occupied left empty.

Elain sighed in relief, striding into the kitchen. Lucien’s tray was already on the counter, ready to be loaded with his breakfast items. Elain wracked her brain, trying to remember what he usually had.

Tea. She needed to brew him a pot of tea.

Elain gave a silent thanks to whoever had left the stove lit as she filled a pot with water and hung it to heat. The bread hadn’t been baked yet, so yesterday’s was going to have to do, as was the half used jar of jam left in the cupboard.

Assembly was easy enough, the dishes sitting stacked neatly in a pile.

Elain carried the tray back up through familiar halls, trying to keep her hands steady, even as nerves coiled in her stomach.

It was all a bad idea. She had no way of knowing if Lucien wanted to see her, if he’d even be willing to help her, but she had no other options.

Her knock on the study door was met with silence.

Elain cursed. Lucien probably wasn’t even awake yet, much less ready—

“You’re back.” Eris looked down at her, head cocked in confusion, from the crack in the door.

“Is your brother there?” Elain asked.

Eris turned around. “Is he?”

Lucien must have given some signal because Eris swung the door open wider. “You can come in.”

Elain gave a whispered thanks as she entered. Lucien was still in his nightshirt, the fabric short enough to show off his legs. Elain blushed at the sight. She knew he was muscled but seeing it…

“Elain—“ Lucien said, rising to his feet. He looked awful, the beginnings of a beard dotting his jaw and purplish bruises heavy under his eyes. “You came back?”

Elain swallowed. “The debt was not yet paid.” Not the full truth, but the most she would say with Eris standing behind her.

“Jurian didn’t tell you?” At Elain’s blank expression Lucien sighed. “Your debts are paid. You’re free to go.”

“All of them?” But no, that didn’t make sense. Why else would Nesta need to marry Thomas than for money.

“The ones I know about.”

The tray in Elain’s hands felt like a weight. “There’s more. More than either of us knew about.” More reasons she’d have to stay.

“Fuck,” Lucien muttered. He looked over Elain’s shoulder. “Eris, get out.”

“But I’m invested,” Eris drawled.

“Eris.” Lucien’s tone left no room for questioning.

Elain heard the door shut behind her, even as she kept her eyes trained on Lucien.

“Fuck, Elain. How did it get this bad?”

“I don’t know.” An honest answer.

Lucien advanced towards her, lifted the tray out of her hands and tossed it unceremoniously onto the desk. The teacup shattered at the force but Lucien didn’t even flinch.

“I need you to save my sisters,” Elain said. “I’ll do anything, anything you ask. I’ll work for you until I die.” She was ready to beg on her knees, she didn’t care. Anything to see Nesta freed from a life with Thomas, Feyre no longer needing to hunt.

“I’m not a man you should offer anything to,” Lucien said, even as he came closer.

Elain’s eyes narrowed. She took in Lucien’s eyes, one gold and one russet, just like she’d seen that night. How Kaisia said he was different, how the King hated him.

“You’re the beast, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

And there it was, all laying in that one devastating word.

“How?”

Lucien groaned, collapsing back into the chair in front of his desk. “What do you know?”

“You’re not the King’s son.” Elain said.

Lucien gave a bitter laugh. “That pretty much sums it up. My mother met Helion. King of Pelas,” he added at Elain’s confused expression. “Right before she married Beron. She wanted to run away, marry him instead but her family wouldn’t allow it. They kept in contact though, exchanging letters. Until a year before I was born, when Helion came as an official delegate. 

“I looked different from the moment I was born, but no one wanted to say anything, not when it would offend two kings. Cleaning up that war would be too difficult.” Lucien shrugged. “So here I am, too difficult to get rid of, stuck in the worst duchy of the kingdom while the King makes my life a nightmare.”

“Does Helion know?” Elain asked.

Lucien leaned over the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling out a stack of letters. “I told him once I was of age.”

“Then why stay? If you hate the dark, hate this place…”

“When my mother’s ready,” Lucien said fiercely. “And not a day sooner.” Lucien dropped the stack of papers down on the desk and slumped in his seat. “So now you know everything you need to ruin me.”

“I told you, all I want is for you to save my sisters. You can’t if you’re ruined.”

“So that’s your offer, my secrets for your sisters?”

“I told you, I’d do anything.”

Lucien groaned, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his throat. “That’s a very dangerous thing to offer me, Elain. Because there’s a great number of things I want to do with you.”

Elain bit her lip. They were edging into dangerous territory now, more than any of their other conversations. “I thought that was why you bought me. So you could do what you want.”

“I bought you so no one else could,” Lucien said. “I know what the people who buy children do to them. Trust me, you’re happier working for a monster than whoever your father was going to sell you to.”

“My father’s about to do the same to Nesta, trade her to the highest bidder. And then there will be more debts and he’ll turn to Feyre.” Because there would always be more debtors, more people her father had made deals with and then failed to pay back, all to fund his ridiculous fraud of his lifestyle.

“You know what I am and you still want my help?”

Elain met his eyes, the shame burning in his gaze. “You could have killed me in that room and you didn’t. You can’t be that much of a monster.”

Luciens voice was dark when he spoke. “Trust me, I every much can be.”

Elain took a step towards him. “Prove it.”

The smile that spread across Lucien’s face was predatory, belonging to the beast that lurked within him. “Marry me and I’ll help you.”

“That’s your conditions? My hand in marriage to save my sisters from the same fate?”

“You could always tell everyone you now I’m a hideous monster. It might make me more cooperative.”

Elain scoffed, taking another step towards him. “Like they’d ever believe me.”

Lucien met her eye, staring at her like she was his prey and he was a hunter. “I trust you can be very persuasive when they want to be.”

Elain looked him over, the red hair falling around his shoulders, the handsome face. And then she sat in his lap, legs straddling either side of his waist.

“Deal.”

Lucien reached up, brushing a hand along her jaw. “I think we should seal it with a kiss.”

“Not a handshake?” Elain asked, but she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips against his. They were surprisingly soft, and Lucien opened to her, let her tongue sweep past his lips. He tasted of spice and cinnamon, something just on the edge of burning her.

Lucien kissed like he was starving, like he wanted to devour her. His hands reached up to hold her in place, grip tight along her waist. Elain’s hands ran along his back, fingers reaching under his nightshirt to reach warm skin.

“Gods,” Lucien murmured, breaking away from her mouth to kiss a line down her neck, nipping and sucking his way down.

Elain whimpered when he found a particularly sensitive spot. She could feel her thighs dampening with arousal. She’d been a few boys in the village before but nothing had felt quite as exciting as just kissing Lucien did.

The noise seemed to spur Lucien on, his lips teasing at the top of her dress, one hand reaching up to brush along her breasts. The touch had Elain’s nipples pebbling under the fabric and she arched into his touch.

“Careful,” Lucien groaned. “We have to save it for the wedding night.”

Elain pouted. “Do you plan on backing out?”

“Never,” Lucien snarled. “But I won’t have anyone accusing me of being anything less than a perfect Lord.”

Elain’s fingers played with the collar of his shirt, working the button undone.“I don’t even have a ring,” 

“I gave you one,” Lucien protested. “But I can get you another. Any type you want, say the word and I’ll find it.”

“No. That one’s perfect.”

“Good.” And then Lucien’s lips were back on hers. His hand reached under her ass to lift her up, placing her on the desk with something close to reverence.

Even while sitting, Lucien towered above her and Elain had to tilt his head back to meet his mouth. Her hands reached down, to the base of his nightshirt, and pulled it up and off.

She was met with the sight of warm brown skin and hard earned muscles dusted with fine red hair. Her hands ran up Lucien’s shoulders, down his stomach.

Lucien groaned at her touch, pulling her closer.

“There’s lots of things we can do that will keep your maidenhood intact,” he whispered, pulling away from her to bend at the knees.

“What—” Elain asked. Lucien ran his hands up her calves, pulling her dress up as he moved up her legs. He ripped her undergarments away, throwing them unceremoniously in a pile behind him.

Lucien delved under her skirts and Elain caught a glance of a wound on his shoulder, jagged and half healed.

She sat up, brushing a finger along it.

“Is that from—”

“It’s fine,” Lucien murmured. “It happens.”

Now that she was looking, Elain could see several scars flecking Lucien’s otherwise smooth back, little holes and gashes long healed over.

“Is this your life? Always worried something will happen, the beast will break out?”

Lucien shrugged. “Helion says it gets easier once you’ve settled, have a person to protect. He said he was never calmer than when he was with my mother.”

Elain read the implication in his words. She was his person now. The thought made something melt deep in her chest.

“Now please,” Lucien begged, pulling her skirts up around her hips. “I want to taste my wife.”

“I’m not your wife yet—” Elain started, but the rest of her sentence was cut off by a moan as Lucien licked a stripe up her seam. Her hips nearly bucked off the desk as he did it again and Lucien chuckled, placing one hand on her stomach to keep her still. The width of his palm spanned near across her, squeezing with comforting pressure.

He continued his assault on her folds, tongue playing with her entrance as his other hand reached up, thumb rolling over the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of Elain’s thighs.

The whimpers he managed to pull from her would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t felt so good. Elain felt  pleasure build at the base of her spine. Her stomach tightened, her inner muscles clenching against her will.

“There you go,” Lucien groaned. “Come on my face, make sure everyone in the manor knows you’re mind.”

He punctuated the words with a particularly hard flick of her clit that had Elain whimpering. “Lucien,” she panted.

“You’re going to be a Lady,” Lucien continued, as if she hadn’t said anything. “And Ladies do what they’re told.”

Elain nodded, clutching the edge of her desk as Lucien’s tongue finally breached her entrance, darting into her.

“Please,” she whined. “I’m so close.”

“I know you are, love. You can do it.” Lucien rolled his thumb harder over her clit and the stimulation had Elain falling over the edge, pleasure shooting through her so hard she saw stars.

“Good girl,” Lucien said, riding her though the high. “You did so well for me.”

Elain’s chest glowed at the praise. She reached down, a hand on Lucien’s jaw as she pulled him up for a messy kiss. Lucien tasted slightly salty, tasted of her and it only made Elain more aroused, her legs wrapping around Lucien’s hips.

The knocking at the door stopped them from going any further.

“Are you quite done?” shouted Eris through the wood.

Elain flushed hot at the idea of Eris knowing what they’d been doing but Lucien just chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before yelling back, “why do you care about it.”

“I’ll tell father you’re marrying a peasant,” Eris taunted.

Lucien groaned. “What do I have to give you for you to not do that?”

Eris made a play of thinking about it, letting them sit in silence for a moment. Elain tried to even out her breathing, really hoped Eris couldn’t hear her through the wood.

“You know what I want.”

“Fine,” Lucien shouted. ‘You can take Kaisia back with you. But you’re on your own if you want to convince her to marry you.”

“I will,” Eris answered. “And congratulations.”

 Lucien just rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss Elain again.

-

The wedding took place a month later. 

Elain knew it would have been sooner but a month was the quickest the seamstresses could get the dress done, and Lucien had reluctantly agreed to wait.

It was worth it, Elain decided, as she brushed hand down the front of the yellow velvet. The dress seemed to sparkle, glowing like she was the sun.

“You look beautiful,” Feyre said, hugging her for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Elain tried not to cry, even as tears welled up. Lucien had ordered Jurian to bring her family to the manor as soon as they emerged from the study, effectively ending Nesta’s engagement to Thomas.

Not that Nesta was complaining as she took Feyre’s spot, wrapping her arms around Elain. “I’m happy for you,” he whispered.

Nesta pulled back, straightening. “Now let's go, Lucien won’t be kept waiting.”

Elain snorted. Lucien would wait as long as he needed to, she was sure, but she was just as eager as him. Elain knew what the crowd thought, all the Lords and Ladies who had come to spectate, hundreds of people Elain had been introduced to over the past week and then promptly forgotten about. That she was pregnant, and this was Lucien atoning for his mistakes.

They were wrong, at least as far as Elain knew. Although Lucien had been hilariously bad at sticking to his promise to keep her pure for her wedding day. Not that Elain had helped much, guiding his length right where it needed to be.

Elain flushed at the memory, raising the bouquet in her hands to cover her small smile at the thought.

Feyre linked arms with Elain on one side, Nesta on the other, as they led her down to the aisle. She’d opted not to have her father walk her down. He’d already given her away to the Duke in his own way, sold her to pay his debts. 

He was sitting in the front row though, next to Eris and Kaisia. Her friend gave a small smile and waved, and Elain beamed back. They hadn’t had more than a few minutes to see each other, not while Elain was busy trying to plan things, but Kaisia looked happy. Elain chose to ignore the high neckline of her dress, what that meant. Besides, Kaisia was pretty enough to make it a new fashion statement, especially if she did end up married to Eris.

Lucien was waiting for her at the end of the aisle and Elain’s breath caught in her throat as she took him in. He’d tied his auburn hair back, the color contrasting beautifully against the green suit jacket and brown pants he wore.

His smile was so bright it cracked something in her chest.

“Don’t cry,” Nesta whispered and Elain laughed. Her sisters dropped her arms and she stepped forward to take Lucien’s hands.

If asked to recount her vows later, Elain never would be able to. All she could remember is the way Lucien looked at her, and the happiness burning bright in her chest.

Elain sat at the dinner table later, head resting on Lucien’s shoulder as he gently ran a hand through her hair.

They’d been forced to cede the head to the King and Queen, not that Elain minded much. Being off to the side allowed Lucien to get rather creative with where he placed his hand, resting higher on her thigh that was socially acceptable.

Helion sat across from them, one of several Kings who’d made the journey. King Rhysand, having come south from his own lands, seemed deep in conversation with Feyre and Elain smirked at the sight. She might not be the last Archeron married off to royalty.

“Congratulations,” Helion said, raising his wine glass in toast. Lucien lifted his own, tapping the rims gently.

They drank, a silent understanding between two people who were more related than anyone could guess.

“We should start dancing,” Elain muttered.

“Do you want to dance or do you want everyone distracted?” Lucien teased.

“Why can’t I want both?”

Lucien laughed, but stood, signaling the small quartet in the corner to start up a lively waltz. He pulled Elain up, leading her onto the dance floor.

His hands settled lightly on her waist, the picture of propriety as he spun her around. Others quickly joined them, Helion leading Lucien’s mother out.

Off in the corner, Vassa was directing Jurian through the steps.

“Vassa dances very well for a housekeeper,” Elain said.

Lucien turned, catching sight. “Vassa was raised to be a lady. She liked gambling a bit too much in her free time and her sisters didn’t feel like paying for it, so they shipped her off to be married to Lord Korsechi. I offered her a job if she left and she accepted. Plus,” Lucien leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially in her ear, “our nighttime hours work quite well for her problem.”

The fact that Kosechi had cursed her to turn into a firebird by day, something Lucien had confided in her.

“And thus started your life of rescuing fair maidens?” Elain asked.

“It worked out well for you, didn’t it?”

Elain hummed. “Hopefully it works out for Jurian too.”

Lucien growled, tugging her closer. “I don’t want you talking about another man on our wedding night.”

Elain rolled her eyes, if only to hide her smile.

The song ended, the audience clapping politely. Lucien rested his hand on Elain’s back and led them over to his mother, still standing besides Helion.

“You look happy,” Lucien said.

Cait Vanserra smiled. “Now that you’re settled, and Eris is on his way, I think it might be my turn to find something else to occupy my time.”

“It’s time,” Lucien said.

Elain pretended not to notice the way Lady Vanserra’s hand drifted to the knife hanging from her belt, the handle the same as the ones they’d been eating dinner with.

“Now go,” Helion said. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out with us.”

Lucien didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing Elain’s hand and practically dragging her out of the ball room.

“I think we might be moving soon,” Elain commented mildly. “Somewhere warmer.”

“I don’t care where we go,” Lucien said gruffly. He swung open a door, one Elain recognized as leading into the library, and hauled Elain into him. His hand wrapped around her hair, left long and curling down her back, and angled her head up.

There lips met in a hungry kiss. Lucien’s free hand drifted down to the back of Elain’s thighs and then he was pulling her up, her legs wrapping around her waist as her back hit the wall.

Lucien’s hips ground against hers and Elain could feel the growing bulge in his pants, a sign of his desire for her.

“I love you,” Lucien groaned against her mouth.

Elain nipped at his lower lip. “I love you too.”

Lucien’s hand loosened his grip on her hair. “We should go back to my room,” he said, even as he reached around her to start untying the laces of Elain’s dress. “Anyone could walk in on us.”

“It’s your house, my lord,” Elain said, fingers undoing the first of Lucien’s jacket buttons. “I think we can do what we want in any of the rooms.”

“My Lord,” Lucien muttered.  “I don’t think I want you to call me anything but that.”

Elain laughed, still working her way down his jacket. She undid the final button and Lucien slipped out of it, leaving him in nothing but a thin cotton shirt.

He finally managed to get her laces undone, pulling the dress down to expose her breasts. “I love these,” he muttered, leaning down to take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Not nearly as much as you love other parts of me,” Elain gasped, arching into his touch.

“True, there’s nothing I love are than your cunt,” Lucien said and Elain slapped at his chest.

“That’s foul,” she complained, but Lucien just laughed, tugging gently on her nipple. Elain moaned, hands pulling at the ties on Lucien’s pants.

She got them undone, and roughly shoved his pants down his legs. Her hand wrapped around his cock, pumping once

“Eager?” Lucien asked.

“Gods, shut up,” Elain said, placing her hands on each of Lucien’s cheeks and pulling him up for another kiss.

Lucien met her lips greedily, one hand sliding between her thighs. He moaned at the slick he felt there, her own arousal making itself known.

He ground against her once, but Elain was done. She reached down, guiding his penis to her entrance. Lucien thrust into her and Elain screamed at the pleasure, at the feeling of him, of her husband, filling her.

“I love you,” Lucien panted, rolling his hips into her. Elain met him stroke for stroke, grinding against him.

“You said,” Elain said, her voice breathless.

“I wanted to make sure you knew,” Lucien said, punctuating his words with a flick of her clit.

Elain tightened her legs around his hips, puling him impossibly closer. The new angle had Lucien hitting the sensitive spot inside her, the one that inevitably led to her falling apart in his arms.

Pressure was building along Elain’s spine, dragging her closer. If Lucien’s shuddering breaths were any indication he was just as close.

Elain threaded her fingers through his hair, tangling the long, auburn strands. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, pressing a hot, opened mouth kiss against her skin, biting down lightly.

“Lucien I’m going to—“

“Yes,” Lucien cried, “yes, yes.” His pace was brutal, hips slamming against hers, the sound of skin on skin obscene in the otherwise silent library. “Come for me, wife.”

The word was Elain’s breaking point, pleasure cresting over her as she came. Lucien followed with a sharp slap of his hips, his release emptying into her.

Lucien waited until he was spent to slowly let her slide back down to the floor. Elain’s legs felt shaky beneath her and Lucien wrapped a hand around her waist, supporting her.

“I think,” Lucien said, pressing his lips against her cheek in a quick kiss. “That we should take this to the marital bed.”

“It might be more comfortable,” Elain agreed. She shrieked as Lucien hoisted her into his arms, bridal style.

“Then let me.”

-

Lucien kept her up for the rest of the night, until Elain could see sunlight just peaking out through the curtains.

She rose from the bed, throwing Lucien’s long abandoned shirt on to cover herself before she padded over to the window.

“May I?” she asked.

Lucien lifted a head from where he lay strewn out on the bed. “You can do whatever you please in your own house,” he declared fiercely.

It was all the confirmation she needed to throw the shutters open, light shining into their bedroom. She turned back around and gasped.

Lucien seemed to be glowing, the shine faint but undeniable.

“How—”

“Another gift from Helion,” Lucien said, rising up. His dark skin looked golden, shining and reflective. “His whole court apparently glows in the sun.”

Elain sat in his lap, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. “I guess it’s lucky you were born in a court that only goes out at night.”

“I’m lucky I found someone willing to coax me into the light,” Lucien said.

And that’s how the two of them approached their first day as husband and wife, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[lamentableplum]

Some Gale/Lae'zel fluff, teaching each other and falling in love. written for the bg3 secret santa 2023

[eyeofthedrgn]

I just want to say thank you to all of the fanfic writers out there that are posting all of these lovely secret Santa fics! I have so much to read and I'm so excited!! You are all such lovely beans! Thank you all for sharing your stories and writing for your mutuals!

🥰🎄💜

[spnfanficpond]

YOU HAVE UNTIL FRIDAY NOVEMBER 15TH AT 11:59PM TO FILL IN THE FORM AND JOIN IN THE FUN!!!!

Secret Santa 2024 Edition

It’s the season for giving and receiving! Join the SpnFanFicPond's Secret Santa Fic Exchange between Monday, October 28th, and Friday, November 15th, to be paired up with another writer based on your interests. You write for them, and they write for you.

Fill Out This Form

Deadline: December 25th 

Frequently Asked Questions

When can I post my fic?

Post any time up until December 25!

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Once you complete your usual process, post it with a tag for your Secret Santa partner, and then send us the link here or in Discord DMs.

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Yes, as long as you are filling your exchange partner's request!

Some handy but not required prompts if you're looking for inspiration: 

Trying to surprise your partner for a date

baking/cooking for your partner

going on a hunt 

stuck in a snowstorm/stuck at home because of a snowstorm

possessed turkey, haunted stuffing

Santa is real

winter sports gone wrong

Santa’s bag is actually full of naughty children

[Character of choice]’s cooking lands someone in the hospital

Rowena enchants everyone’s gifts for lols