#fire in the oak family is that Anger

[kineticallyanywhere]

dndads avatar au thoughts

Beary: Earthbender Autumn: Firebender Henry: Firebender (so steeped in denial. s1 is him crawling out of the denial mud he's neck deep in) Mercedes: Waterbender Sparrow: Firebender Lark: Waterbender (no this does not stop the twins from impersonating each other. they are VERY good at it) Rebecca: Waterbender (uses it to make ice cream!) Hero: Firebender (prodigy; non-practicing; secretly the Avatar) Normal: Waterbender (kinda garbage at martial or artistic techniques, much more adept at spiritual/healing elements but doesn't have a teacher)

Willy: Waterbender (Bloodbender, obvs. Can pull freaky stuff with spirits) Ron: Waterbender (nonpracticing) Samantha: Earthbender (nonpracticing) Terry Jr.: Earthbender Veronica: Nonbender Scary: Her biodad is a (bad) firebender, but she's ever been able to do it, no matter how hard she tries. That is, until she met Willy. (she could Earthbend, like her monther's mother, if she tried.)

Darryl: Nonbender Carol: Earthbender Grant: Earthbender (pretends to be non-practicing) Marco: Nonbender Link: Nonbender? (might actually be an earthbender? it's strangely unclear)

(now idea how TF this family works in an au, but) Bill: Airbender (used for weed smoking) Glenn: Airbender (can make his voice carry so far) Jodie: Earthbender Morgan: Firebender Nick: Firebender Cassandra: Nonbender, air heritage Taylor: Airbender (he hopes he's the avatar, but he really just moves other elements around with wind)

The Likelies are all Spirits, including Hermie

[kaseyskat]

why does everyone think normal would actually even TRY to hurt taylor like this boy literally just had an entire episode where he became convinced that he was right and his friends don’t care about him AND he just was reminded that it’s kinda his dads fault that taylor didn’t get to have a dad in his life you really think norm isn’t fully prepared to step down and let taylor win he literally said he only wanted to rule hell because it sounded angsty and he’s being angsty why would he get violent about it 😭😭😭😭😭

[imjustreadinglmao]

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

[jymwahuwu]

Sunday being head of the Oak Family. What if reader is the head of other Family who is trying to act as political opposition? Acting all tough, even hostile, trying to be a strong woman and a leader.

Sunday knows solution and she can be easily fixed!

Reader simply lacks a husband and couple of kids to care for so our benevolent angel Sunday will generously provide it for her, everyone deserves to have family, even bitchy arrogant women like reader.

Thank you thank you!! The content that humiliates arrogant reader is my favorite ><!! I think Sunday will not discipline you immediately, but try to give you a chance…

TW: yandere, non-con, brainwashing, mind control, housewife kink, inappropriate traditional concepts (language about serving husband and family)

Which family are you the leader of? Alfalfa who controls economy, Bloodhound who maintains security, Iris who develops culture and entertainment, or Nightingale who is responsible for construction?

Depending on which family you belong to, your experience may be a little different… If you are the leader of Alfalfa, then it is expected that you will use finances as your leverage against Sunday's leadership, such as refusing to pass some reimbursements. Of course, those are non-essential expenses… but they are quite troublesome, because those are the activities Mr. Sunday wants to organize. If you're a Bloodhound, you can expect to show him your fangs, taunt him, and quietly frame him. If you were Iris, you might make some promotional videos of your own and use some subtle ways to disparage Sunday, knowing that all negative press is banned in Penacony. If you are Nightingale, then you will find some excuse to pause the construct, especially those designs that Mr. Sunday likes.

But no matter which family you are the leader of, you do not hide your hostility and provocation towards Sunday. You were tired of the mask of hypocrisy on his face. He hindered you from becoming the leader and representative of The Family! You repeatedly framed him with conspiracy, sneered in his face, and pushed the atmosphere in the conference room to be tense. Some members have reminded you that there should never be conflicts or disputes among family members. Well, of course you don't want to argue with Mr. Sunday, so you reply perfunctorily. The teachings of Lord Xipe are in our hearts and we just communicate.

Sunday. You feel like he's actually the one adding fuel to the fire. He always stares at you with a kind of pity, condescension, and a perfect smile, as if you are making trouble unreasonably. "Praying for you," he said. "The anger and arrogance in your heart will only serve as thorns to stab you. It is important to learn to bow your head reverently and humbly."

You want to roll your eyes. Of course you believe in Xipe, but you don't want to be in the same family as Sunday. Feeling that there is some strange and terrifying grand truth behind that flawless mask, but you don't want to understand it at all. To live in harmony with such a guy? Maybe it could happen in a few hundred years.

Again. You used some conspiracy to destroy Sunday's reputation. This time… it almost worked, just a little bit. You are not discouraged. You tilt your head in mock innocence and prepare to leave his office. But this time…it seems different. He did not say those admonishing and decent words to you. The sunlight slanted onto the colored glass, and the halo behind it almost made his whole person soft and decent.

"You know, I never like to use strong tactics. Now I know where the problem lies." There was even a faint smile on Sunday's face. "You need to show some proper respect and deference, and you're just one family away from that."

"What are you talking about again?" You frowned, but you couldn't move when you wanted to say the next word. Panic grips your heart. A burst of cheerful and moving tones enter your mind, like a sequenced program. "Come to me." This sentence seems to be singing. You don't know if it's an auditory hallucination or what.

Your body obeyed uncontrollably, and slowly walked to him and knelt down. Get away from him!! Get down on your knees. You met his gaze pitifully and weakly, putting on an expression you didn't normally have. "I'm sorry," you heard yourself apologize. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Sunday. I've been so mean to you."

What are you doing?

"I will serve you with love... my husband." Your hands rested obediently on his knees, like a puppy. You already want to slap yourself. What nonsense are you talking about? "I realize that I am too bossy all the time. Please give me a chance to make it up to you..."

You carefully unzipped his pants and stroked and rubbed his warm cock with your hands. That- what is that- so awful- why is it so hard and long, the head of the cock is standing in front of your face, standing menacingly... A thin mist surrounds your tears. Then you lowered your head submissively and tried your best to take it all in, but it was already pressed against your throat before it was even halfway through. A feeling of nausea, but you still try to do the best you can for your husband.

(The muffled gurgling sounds, the saliva and tears.)

After your wet mouth felt sore, you finally had him gently pull your hair. You wanted to scream, curse him. This thought is like roaring in the wind, but you say. "Isn't this good enough? Please…" Before you could finish, those white thick creams covered your face. "Ah…"

"No. You're doing great. " Sunday caressed your face dotingly, even though your face was now shrouded in humiliation. "We're going to have two beautiful babies. I look forward to seeing you do this every day."

[venusandsaturnsrings]

you stand stiff with a harsh swallow and suddenly dry mouth, hands gripped tightly behind you to ease the trembling threatening to break through. in front of you, pacing back and forth across the large space, is none other than sunday himself. his brows are knitted tightly together and an occasional frustrated mumble leaves his lips as he ponders just what exactly to do with you.

earlier that day, you found yourself wandering the halls of the dreamscapes reverie. as a lowly employee simply tasked with basic customer service amongst the golden hour this was strictly forbidden. it was one of many firm instructions you were never to break and yet you couldn’t hold the boiling curiosity back; it was the one thought you could never shake off. thus you found yourself sneaking in once your shift was over and meandering around the both confusing and enchanting hallways. the dim lighting and bubbles forming across the luxurious spaces was nothing short of enchanting but alas, all good things must come to an end. another employee tasked with repairs spotted you and instantly recognized you were not meant to be there thusly dragging you away and off to sundays location with scalding words and promises of your immediate firing and criminal charges. once faced with the oak family head, you felt your fate was sealed at his poorly disguised anger.

he finally stopped his walking and turned to you with a tense jaw and harsh glare. surely your life was over and you’d spend years atoning in a cell but ever surprising, he spoke with a proposition.

“you’re nothing short of lacking in braincells,” he spat, “but i can work with that and you’re in no position to deny. for the rest of your lowly life’s time, you’ll be my personal stress relief. it’s your irritatingly pretty face and body that serves as your only redeeming traits, as your mind is worthless. accept my proposal or i’ll have you tolling away in prison for years to come.” his words were shocking but correct though the guilty arousal pooling in your gut was shameful. all you could manage was a curt nod which seemed to ease his frustration. “good. at least you know your place. i’ll be setting many rules in words simple enough for your minuscule intelligence to understand. as for now,” his smile was predatory and dripping with self-assured confidence, “you’ll find your place under my desk, quickly.”

you scramble to kneel below him, eyes wide with fear and slick building up between your thighs making your panties stick uncomfortably. sundays hands found your hair to grip tightly as he lowered your lips down his cock, the length pressing against the back of your throat and pulling a choked sound from you. he laughed at your struggle before demanding you put in the work, releasing your hair to busy himself with a mountain of papers. shifting on your already sore knees you worked his dick in and out of your mouth, spit dribbling down to his balls with tears lining your lashes. small moans and whimpers broke apart your painful gags as you knew he would be unsatisfied with anything less than a messy and desperate treatment of his cock. sobbing pathetically you mentally prayed he’d soon find himself finishing down your throat soon so you could properly breathe. when sunday finally grunted and held you down to his base again, you gurgled around the sudden flow of his thick release but made sure to gratefully swallow every rope down. he practically purred at your performance as he shoved a shiny shoe between your legs.

“grind on it. polish it with that pathetic cunt, i know your dripping, disgusting girl,” and you made quick work of rocking back and forth, arms weaving around his leg with panted praise and watery thanks. he rolled his eyes, demanding you quiet down as his pen scratched along whatever papers were in front of him. you worked your pussy tirelessly, chest heaving at every pleasurable drag of your hips. the stitching along his shoes adding to the stimulation and catching wonderfully against your swollen clit. grinding needy, drool soaking his pant leg, you sighed and cried with your release finally peaking. pulling away with a shaky exhale and sensitive pussy, your face flushed at the obviously soaked material of his leather shoes. sundays foot came up to your face, “lick it clean, whore.” you quickly obeyed, mouth drawing up and down to clean up every drop coating the surface as he hummed in a tone only described as bored.

“expect your days to be filled this way from now on. i’ll have your clothes, if you can call skimpy lingerie that, tailored as a uniform from now on, doll.”

[milkbobatyun]

my love, mine all mine

pairing: yandere!sunday x reader

genre: yandere

summary: the consequences of not listening to the head of the oak family

word count: 936

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : yandere behaviour, manipulation, fear

a/n: was inspired after listening to a really good sunday-inspired playlist on yt and i HAD to write this

you had only been talking to a passerby, giving him directions to reach his destination.

golden, hawk-like eyes scrutinsed your every move from a distance, watching as the man slowly leaned closer to you. every movement of his wretched mouth, every quirk of his eyebrow fanned the ember of jealousy into a raging flame. he said something. you laughed. the pretty sound travelling towards his ears, igniting a fire of anger from within him.

a thread within him snapped when he saw the man place his filthy, disgusting hand on your shoulder. his jaw clenched, the pearly feathers behind his ears fluffed out in rage. the heat of jealousy surged through his veins, pounding in his ears. all he could see was red.

sunday stalked towards the chatting group. with your back turned to him, you were blissfully unaware of the encroaching danger. the man’s face paled when he caught sight of the intimidating figure rapidly approaching.

a haloed shadow was thrown over the shaking figure of the man, its wings fluffed out in jealousy. seeing the fury radiate from the powerful stance of the head of the oak family, the fearful man collapsed to the floor, his legs giving out underneath him. with a hurried scramble, the man scurried away, throwing one last petrified glance behind his back.

sunday turned to you, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“i think it’s time to go home.” he gritted out between his teeth, a firm grasp encircling your wrist.

with your wrist trapped in his iron grip, you were forced to stumble along behind him, biting your cheek against the painfully tight grasp. sunday, seemingly unaware of your discomfort, politely greeted passersby, waving to them with mock cheer, a smile plastered on his face. however, his piercing golden eyes were hard, like a predator who had found its prey.

the heat of his hand on your wrist burned you, yet the hairs on your arms were raised, goosebumps prickling against the surface of your skin. his fingers trembled with barely contained rage, an edge in his voice, filled with faux warmth. as though the people walking along the street could sense the tense air between the two of you, the air felt thick, pressure building against your chest.

when you reached his manor, sunday threw open the door. the house reverberated with the loud boom of the door richocheting from the force.

sunday mercilessly dragged you up the stairs, not caring if you were stumbling up the stairs, often almost tripping. with overwhelming force, he threw you onto the bed, the plush mattress cushioning your body, the soft pillows at your back.

with measured calm, sunday gently shut the door behind him, his eyes hiding a fire of hatred.

“just what, pray tell, did i tell you before we left the house?” he hissed, pacing up and down the room, the sound of his boots muffled by the velvety carpet underfoot. sunday’s voice came out low and venomous, his movements slow, placing you on the edge.

you trembled in your place, hand over the bruising wrist, body instinctively curled in a foetal position, lest he hits you like before. the silence stretched out between the two of you, the only audible noise was your pulse, booming in your ears. the bruise throbbed dully, a reminder of your vulnerability.

sunday slinked closer to you, watching you with amusement at how you flinched at his every move, bracing for any blows to land. your eyes were pressed shut, memories of past ‘lessons’ flashing vividly behind your eyes. 

each second stretched into a minute, an hour, eternity. thunk. thunk. thunk. the quiet shuffle of his boots scraped across the carpet. sunday placed a knee on the bed, like a cat stalking a bird.

“what. did. i. say.” he purred, a smile etched onto his face. underneath the facade of kindness, you could see how his brows furrowed in anger, his knuckles clenched white against the silken bedsheets.

he reached out a hand towards you, tilting your chin up with a gentle touch, like you were a glass flower, fragile and easily broken. his soft touch could almost be mistaken as a lover’s touch – tender, loving; yet within his eyes swirled the burning fury, like a predator who was about to devour their prey.

the bed creaked softly as sunday leaned closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. he smiled down at you, a faux smile.

“i give you all this luxury, yet you’re here talking to other guys?” he hissed, his finger drawing a cold path down your neck, past your jugular, an unspoken threat in his eyes.

he chuckled softly, finding amusement in your trembling, like a cat toying with a mouse. his smile faded instantly, his hand darting out, unforgiving grip on your chin burning your skin. your skin prickled against his touch, your hands trembled uncontrollably. he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“remember what happened last time you defied me. we don’t want that again do we?” he mocked. “you belong to me and me only.”

sunday’s grin widened at the prolonged silence. his hand trailed down to your neck, the tender touch of love. his fingers lingered for a moment too long, tracing absent-minded lines along your collarbones. with the speed of a hawk, he gripped your neck in a chokehold, just tight enough to bring out a surge of panic across your face, your airways restricted beneath his hand.

“yes.” sunday whispered dangerously, a smirk of sick satisfaction on his face. “that’s the look i want. you’re mine.”

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Am Forever Yours (part 3)

Day 6: Reputation

Summary: They assumed.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1092

Warnings: snobby, jealous ladies trynna bully yn but yn is a badass 😏, i think kinda oc lucien cus he hasnt fucked around at all heheheeheheheheh

A/n: look i just find people who wait till marriage to have intimate relations to be adorable and neat 🥹

(its me im neat and my future husband better be too 🤭)

edit: if you saw me edit the last line to add in a dialogue no u didnt 😇

@lucienweekofficial

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY 🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Y/n knew there were quite a few ladies who would kill to be in her place. After all, becoming the bride of one of the princes was no small matter. Especially when said prince was the most charming gentleman the kingdom had ever seen.

Royal and elite families, even from neighbouring kingdoms, as well as more potential brides had all been invited to the wedding. And where there was a wedding, there was a gathering of the ladies. And where there were ladies gathered, there were rumours spreading.

And Y/n found herself in such a setting the night before her wedding, and the topic of discussion, unfortunately, was her husband.

"Did you know he lives amongst the poor?"

"I cannot fathom why he would do that."

"Does he not get to spend like his brothers?"

"Poor him. I heard he might be a bastard child, and that is why he’s always left out of things."

Y/n heaved a frustrated sigh. From the past hour, she had been sitting here courtesy of her mother’s scoldings on propriety and etiquette, and if she left in the middle of the tea party after dinner it would be disrespectful. That the ladies would think marrying a prince got to her head and she thinks them beneath her.

One of the younger ladies’s giggles caught Y/n’s attention, and she turned to look at what was so funny.

"You know, there are rumours that he has fire in his veins."

High pitched giggles followed that statement, and Y/n’s cheeks burned from the implications in that statement.

Am I being too dirty minded?

But the next second, her worries were blown away by the words of an entirely too smug lady who sat closer to Y/n. "Oh, believe me, he does."

The others in their little group gasped, beginning to hound her for information.

"Did you have him in your bed?"

Y/n clenched her jaw just imagining such an erotic scene, pulse spiking.

"Oh no, I am not so fortunate. But I have surely dreamed about it and heard from others."

It gave Y/n little peace knowing that even though he might not have slept with others, people drooled over him still. She wanted to chide herself for having such thoughts, considering she had only met Lucien at that ball a month ago and was not even married yet.

But not for long, she reminded herself. The wedding would be tomorrow, and then she would have all rights to be possessive over him.

"Lady Oak, you are far too lucky. How did you even get him to agree to your proposal?"

Y/n blinked, meeting the eyes of the lady who grinned at her fiendishly. Her eyes narrowed.

Her name must be husband stealer or something.

She snorted at her own thoughts when another lady who looked younger than her piped up.

"Is it because your father is the advisor and the king forced him?"

Y/n fisted her hand, smiling sweetly. "Oh no, quite the opposite actually."

Husband-stealer laughed. "Oh, so prince Lucien asked your father for your hand? Can’t be, for he has been known to reject proposals left and right."

"Oh, did he reject your proposal too?"

Y/n leaned back in her cushioned chair, innocently gazing at husband-stealer as colour darkened her face, anger evident in every part of her body.

"That does not matter. He does not seem the type to stay with one partner forever anyways."

"You do not have to worry about his betrayals for you are not the one going to be affected by it."

Husband-stealer stood abruptly, glaring at Y/n for a moment before announcing she was going to retire to her room to her companions who did not bother to wish her back and focused on Y/n.

Another win, Y/n thought with a smirk.

"When did you meet him?"

"Last month during the ball he approached me, and when I told him to basically leave me alone, he asked for my hand in marriage. My father said yes."

"And you had no problem?"

Y/n’s smile turned genuine thinking about Lucien stalking up to her father and talking to him with his usual charm. She remembered very vividly how her father’s eyes had widened and he had stuttered through a response, his lips spreading in a grin.

"No. I had only seen him that day and I knew he would be the best suitor. Moreover, I trusted my father’s judgement."

The younger girls sighed in wonder, their eyes glazing over as they themselves imagined themself in her position.

Hiding her grin, Y/n stood, bidding them goodbye before making ehr way to her own bridal suite, anticipation building in her gut.

Tomorrow.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lady Oak, you are far too lucky. How did you even get him to agree to your proposal?

Somehow, after a whole day had passed, after the wedding officiant had pronounced Lucien and Y/n husband and wife, after the reception and dinner party, husband-stealers’ words came back to Y/n.

Was she not right for Lucien? Had he made a mistake? Would he doubt their marriage just as the ladies had?

"Y/n?"

She turned to her new husband, who grinned at her, holding open the door to their bed chamber. She tried to smile back, but of course, even under the dim lighting of the corridor, Lucien saw it.

"Did something happen?"

Y/n paused, wondering if she should tell him what she’d heard.

"It’s just… some ladies were talking about you last night." His brows furrowed and he nodded at her to continue. "They said you would… betray me."

Understanding dawned on his eyes, and he reached out to touch Y/n’s cheek. "You do not have to worry about that. I’d rather cut my own di- private parts off than be with someone that is not my lawfully wedded wife."

Y/n blushed. How could she ever have even given thought to husband-stealer’s words? They were just that. Words.

"Thank you."

He rolled his eyes. "Do not thank me for common human decency." He paused, then- "May I kiss you?"

Y/n’s breath hitched. "I’ve never-"

"Neither have I."

Y/n’s eyes widened. "But- but they said-"

"They assumed."

Y/n closed her mouth with a snap.

"I always thought being loyal to your future partner had a certain romantic side to it. So? May I kiss you now?"

"I- yes but I do not know how to-"

He kissed her.

"I am forever yours."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @tele86

[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 4)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

Their uneasy alliance had always been fragile, but it shattered entirely the night Jacaerys overheard a conversation between Lady Y/N and a former Green sympathiser. The words—faint, but sharp enough to twist the blade in his heart—confirmed his deepest fears. For weeks, the whispers in the Red Keep had gnawed at him: doubts about Y/N’s loyalty, suspicions about her intentions. He had tried to dismiss them, to bury his unease, but now… now, the sting of betrayal burned too deep.

By the time he stormed to Y/N’s chambers that evening, fury burned through his veins, hotter than dragonfire. His mother had warned him, the court had warned him, and yet he’d fought to see her differently. The corridors blurred in his vision, his thoughts consumed by the bitter echo of her words. How could he have been so blind? How could he have trusted her?

Without a knock or word of warning, he flung open her door. The heavy oak banged against the stone wall, startling Y/N from where she sat by the hearth, her hair tumbling over one shoulder as she brushed it. The warm glow of the fire danced across her face, casting her in soft light. For a moment, she looked so serene, so innocent. But Jacaerys could see only betrayal.

She turned slowly, surprise flashing across her features before she masked it, setting the brush aside with measured calm. “What is the meaning of this?” Y/N’s voice was steady, though a wariness lingered in her eyes.

Jacaerys didn’t answer immediately. His breath came in ragged bursts, fists clenched at his sides. The words bubbled up, spilling out before he could stop them. “I trusted you,” he spat, his voice shaking with fury. “I defended this alliance, defended you, while everyone doubted. And now I find you conspiring with the very people who sought to destroy my family!” His voice cracked, raw with betrayal. “Was this marriage just a game? A way for the Hightowers to weaken us from within?”

Y/N’s expression hardened, her eyes narrowing. Slowly, she stood, her posture stiff with anger. “You heard wrong,” she said, her tone edged with steel. “Whatever you think you overheard, you are mistaken.”

“Don’t lie to me!” Jacaerys barked, taking a step closer, his face flushed with rage. “I heard enough. Don’t deny it. You’re in league with them. All these months, I’ve defended you—fought against every voice telling me to turn against you. And now you stand here, daring to deny it?”

Y/N’s eyes flashed dangerously, her own anger rising to meet his. “A ploy?” she echoed, her voice sharp. “Do you honestly think I wanted this marriage? That I came here willingly, to the heart of my family’s enemies? To be treated like a viper at your feet?” She stepped closer, fury rolling off her in waves. “Do you think I have enjoyed the constant mistrust, the whispers, the accusations? I came here to stop another war, not to ignite one.”

“And yet you surround yourself with those who plotted to tear my family apart!” Jacaerys shot back, his voice shaking with hurt more than anger now. “You speak of peace, but every word, every action… all it does is stir more doubt!”

The room seemed to pulse with the weight of their words. They stood so close now, both breathing heavily, their anger barely contained, like two blades on the verge of clashing. But beneath the fury, there was something else—something simmering just below the surface, unspoken but undeniable.

Y/N’s voice dropped, the sharp edge softening as she stepped even closer. “Do you really believe I’m here to betray you, Jacaerys?” she whispered, her gaze searching his. “If you can’t trust me, then what hope is there for us? For peace between our houses? If we are to have any chance, you must trust me.”

Her words cut through the haze of his anger, leaving him standing there, vulnerable. The fury that had raged so fiercely now felt hollow, like a storm that had spent its strength. He wanted to trust her, wanted to believe that she wasn’t like the others, that she wasn’t here to tear down what his mother had fought to build. But the scars of the past ran too deep.

“I don’t know how to trust you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I’ve been trying so hard to hold onto everything my mother built, everything she sacrificed for. But all I can see is the blood, the betrayal. I’m afraid, Y/N. Afraid of losing everything.”

Her gaze softened, the fire in her eyes cooling as she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. The touch was light, hesitant. “You’re not the only one afraid,” she said quietly. “I am, too. I carry the weight of my family’s mistakes, just as you carry yours. But if we keep looking back, we’ll never see what’s in front of us.”

There was a long pause. The crackling fire was the only sound between them as Jacaerys looked down at her, torn between his heart and the bitter memories of war. For the first time, he allowed himself to truly see her—not as a Hightower, not as an enemy, but as someone just as burdened by the past as he was.

“And what do we do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he feared the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath, stepping even closer until there was barely an inch between them. “We stop looking over our shoulders,” she said, her voice low. “We trust each other. We build something new… together.”

The space between them shifted—no longer filled with anger, but something far more dangerous. His heart hammered in his chest, every fibre of him aching with the tension that had built over months of mistrust and fragile hope. She looked up at him, her breath mingling with his, her gaze intense and searching, and in that moment, something broke.

Without thinking, Jacaerys closed the distance, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss full of frustration, longing, and something he could not yet name. It was desperate, raw—a collision of all the emotions they had buried for too long.

For a moment, Y/N froze in shock, but then she kissed him back, just as fiercely. It was not a gentle meeting of lips, but a battle in itself—full of the anger they had thrown at each other, the trust they were still trying to find, and the fear of what this fragile alliance might become.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, neither could speak. Their foreheads rested together, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the world around them fell away. There was no past, no future—just this fragile, stolen moment.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” Jacaerys whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I want to.”

Y/N’s fingers curled around his tunic, holding onto him like he was her last tether. “Then let’s try,” she whispered back, her lips brushing his once more. “Let’s try.”

And so, in that dimly lit chamber, amidst the ashes of their anger, something new was born—a tentative understanding, fragile as the first breath of spring after a long winter. Neither of them knew what would come next, but for now, they were standing together, and that was enough.

Taglist: @rafslytherin

[reyla-the-black-wolf]

My heart speaks for you (Part 2)

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: angsty fluff?, angst, hints of anxiety, anxiety attack, nightmare

Summary: Y/n is the youngest child of the High Lord of the Night Court and lives a slightly different life than the rest of her family. But what happens, when an unexpected visitor enters the stage and decides to completely change her life?

A/N: Hey guys! It took me a bit longer to write this chapter than I had planned to (accidentally deleted a part of the story ups) but finally did it! And I recommend you listen to "Remember that night" by Sara Kays and "The night we met" by Lord Huron.

Anyway, enjoy reading! 😙

Part 1 ⎮Part 2 ⎮Part 3⎮Part 4⎮

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Six days. Six days had passed since the incident in the conference room. Six tough days and not a single glimpse of him. No word, no letter, no message of any kind.

The water of the Sidra washed up on the shore in mesmerising waves, each time stealing a bit more of the glittering sand. Sunlight reflected off the mirrored surface, magically illuminating the facade of the River House. 

The hammock I sat in swayed gently in the afternoon breeze and, thanks to Elain, the sun didn´t bother me too much. My aunt had planted two Illyrian oaks in our garden the year I was born, providing shade now that they had grown from tiny sprouts into strong, sturdy trees. As I became older, I found my favourite reading spot underneath them. They stood a few feet from the River House and were the perfect place to relax and simply be. 

A piece of bark crumbled onto the pages of the book I was holding right now. `Feathers and Fire´ was written in large, ornate letters on the leather-bound cover. Nesta had borrowed me one of her novels to keep me company, as I had spent the last few days mostly by myself. 

I give up! After reading the same paragraph for the third time in a row, I finally slammed the book shut. I had really tried to concentrate on the story in the last hour, but my mind had drifted off more than once. And always back to the same place. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I was in shock. Or so I thought, as I couldn´t think clearly. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding so loudly that all of Velaris must´ve heard it.

Mate. Eris Vanserra was my mate. 

I couldn´t believe it. I mean, he doesn´t even know me?

The beige sofa under my legs felt too soft, as if it wanted to pull me into a hug and never let go. And the ticking clock on the opposite wall made my ears twitch in annoyance, so I decided to get up and pace around the living room, trying to quiet my mind. I was massaging my temples to ground myself a little when a soft touch stopped me in my tracks. Small, gentle fingers starting to trail along my shoulder in a soothing rhythm. 

��Sweetheart, look at me, please.“ My mother´s calm voice made me turn to her. „Everything´s going to be all right.“ She radiated pure love. „Whatever happens next, I want you to know you´re not alone. I´m here for you, okay, honey?“ It helped slow down my racing heart a little, but not enough. I sincerely hoped my father and his brothers hadn´t beaten Eris to death just out of anger. 

Just as I thought of them, three men winnowed into the living room. With long strides, my father rushed towards me, some of his darkness still clinging onto him, and cupped my face with both hands. „Darling, are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need anything?“ He asked worriedly as he inspected me for any injuries, whatever he was looking for. 

I withdrew from his grasp, spun around once to show him I was fine, and put on my most reassuring smile to calm his worries, making his tensed muscles relax. „I´m so sorry. I never wanted you to see this.“ Regret seeped into his voice. „But…“ He paused, visibly struggling to find his next words. „Did the bond snap for you too?“ The question caught me entirely off guard, as I thought he was angry with me, trying to argue. I could almost feel my family holding their breath, dreading my answer. Silky hair fell around my face, casting tender shadows on my features as I shook my head. A quick glance at my parents and I knew they were having a silent conversation. Sweat formed on my palms as I unconsciously clenched my hand into a fist. With each passing second, an unpleasant feeling returned to my stomach, making me want to throw up.

It spread even further when my father turned his attention back to me, and my heart sank as I noticed the sudden change in his expression. A completely blank canvas. The mask of a High Lord. Others probably wouldn´t see through his masquerade of deceit. But I could. I did. I had studied his features over the years, every time he put it on. How his jaw tightened just an inch, noticeable only to the trained eye. How his eyes shimmered in a more vibrant shade of violet. I´d seen him in his role so many times that I´d learned to watch out for him. The real him. Not the High Lord, but my father. He kept his face sealed, but I could see what he hid behind that mask. Fury over Eris. His worry. But the strongest emotion was his love for me. 

„I want you to stay away from him. Or even talk to him.“ Someone had just knocked all the air out of my lungs and punched me in the guts. I hadn´t been braced for what was to come. My pulse skipped a beat and the blood in my veins began to boil. He can´t do this! Voices shouted in my head and a lump formed in the back of my throat. But why? I didn´t even know Eris, even though he was my mate. I shouldn´t be so disappointed. He is practically a stranger. 

At a loss for words, I stared at my parents. „We don´t want to make decisions about your life, but Eris is a... complicated man.“ my mother interjected. You mean dangerous. 

„Wait, Eris is your mate?“ I flinched and turned around, only to spot my brother hidden in the darkness with a shit-eating grin on his face. „Finally something interesting is happening.“ he chuckled, earning him a slap on the neck from Cass. „Hey!“ he cried out as my father shot him a warning glare before continuing his lecture. „Darling, listen. We only want to protect you and make sure you don´t get hurt. And Eris is not good company. He has proven that several times in the past. So please believe us when we tell you to stay away from him. We have our reasons.“ And what are they? A knot tightened in my stomach when I heard Azriel whispering from behind: „Especially after what he did to Mor.“

But he is my mate! Even if we don´t know each other well, don´t I have the right to figure out what´s happening between us? My mind screamed at me. Say something! Anything! You know you can! I forced my thoughts to shut down. We would not have this conversation now. Fight back! But I didn´t. I understood that my parents were trying to protect me. They were angry, no doubt, but with the love in their eyes, I couldn´t argue against them. 

So I only looked up and nodded, giving them a coy smile, even though it felt wrong. So terribly wrong. 

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This moment had been stuck in my head for the past few days. Although I´d agreed not to approach Eris, somehow I still hoped he would talk to me. Maybe to explain when and how the bond had snapped for him. 

Starlight? Az is waiting for you in the training ring.

Oh, right. I looked at the sun, which was already sinking deeper into the sky. Uncle Az had asked me yesterday if I wanted to train with him. We usually met at the same time every week to train, but over the last few days he had become more careful around me, giving me more space.

I quickly stowed the book away, not wanting Nesta to get upset if something happened to her beloved book. Changing into my fighting gear, I winnowed to meet Azriel. 

„Faster!“ Azriel shouted, lunging forward, but not fast enough. I sidestepped his punch to the right, and in the brief moment his defence was down, I landed three swift blows to his ribs. He groaned in pain and tried to sweep me off my feet in one smooth motion. Just as I was about to dive again, my back hit the sandy ground, Truthteller at my throat. A sweaty Azriel lay on top of me. 

He pulled me up, brushing the sand from my clothes. „That wasn´t too bad, but you´re less focused today.“ A questioning look crossed his face for a second as he looked down at me, then it returned to his usual straight expression.

I opened my mouth slightly as if to reply, but shrugged instead and walked towards the edge of the training ground, breathing heavily. Az only threw a knowing look in my direction. He knows. He knows how I feel. 

We had been training for about two hours and I didn´t know how my muscles were still able to keep me standing, but anyway, I was grateful for them when I winnowed us back to the River House for dinner. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

After a quick shower, I now sat opposite to my brother at the wooden table eating dinner and it was truly a symphony for the senses. Wine glasses clinking. Knives scraping against plates. The aromatic scent of grilled steak and vegetables wafting through the room as my family engaged in a huge debate about who had the biggest wingspan. All I could do was smile at the silliness of it all and feel it seep into my soul. 

My father stroked my back lazily beside me, probably to keep calm, as Nyx started throwing peas across the table at Cassian, who dodged them. It really was ridiculous. „Seriously! A little decency, please!“ Amren hissed at this `display of strength´. Mor chuckled, „They´re Illyrians. Do you really think their egos would just ignore it if someone with bigger wings came along?“ My mother nearly choked on her wine at this comment, earning an amused look from her husband. „Can we all just calm down a little before the whole dining room is decorated with pieces of food?“ A quick, stern glance around the table from the High Lord and everyone resumed eating, interrupted now and then by a few giggles.

Ten minutes had passed, and the others had just finished chatting about upcoming events in Velaris, when Amren apparently decided to break the comfortable silence. „So y/n. Has anything been happening with the Autumn Heir lately?“ The wicked smirk on her face made her look like a cat that had caught a mouse to play with. All of a sudden, the room fell silent and everyone stopped eating. I felt my father stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. „Amren.“ Azriel warned, a low growl escaping his throat. „What? Just a sincere question.“ Not impressed by his threatening face. Not in the slightest.

Of course, the incident with Eris had spread around the River House throughout the last few days, fuelling rumours, but the others hadn´t said anything to me yet. I should have guessed that it was only a matter of time until the tension would blow up.

I think I might throw up. I certainly wasn´t in the mood to talk about it with my family. Not today. My blood froze as I gathered the strength to look into Amren´s cold, steely eyes, which were fixed directly on me. She didn´t even flinch when my father shot her a terrifying glare that would send shivers down your spine. 

Words began to flow into my mind, begging to be heard and a familiar feeling crept through my entire body, making my nerves go blank. It felt like I couldn´t breathe. 

„Are you all right, dear? You look a bit pale.“ she said, making me feel even more nauseous. „Amren, don´t.“ Everyone had stopped breathing by now. „You don´t have to answer her question, darling.“ My father´s hand darted out to graze my fingers, but I pulled back at the sensation. „You are his mate y/n, aren´t you? Must be desperate to know why.“ „Enough!“ Pure darkness collected in the corners of the dining room, ready to consume everything. I´d never seen my father so pissed off. „Why would you say such a thing?“ Mor uttered. „Exactly! She´s my sister, I´m the only one allowed to make fun of her!“, Nyx joined in. „I´m in the mood for some trouble.“ she responded honestly, taking a sip from her wine glass, completely untroubled. 

Everyone began to talk over each other, making it difficult to distinguish the individual voices. Tears welled up in my eyes as I covered my ears. The noise was becoming too much to bear. I sniffled, holding back a cry as I stood up and took a few steps away from the table. My chair scraped along the floor, causing everyone to turn around to me and all the shouting stopped. The tears began to trickle down my cheeks as my mother noticed them first, „Sweetheart, we´re so sorry.“ She stood up too. „We didn't mean to make you cry.“ Mor tried to reassure me, guilt clouding her voice. Everything felt too overwhelming. Leave. Walk away. Get out of this situation. 

„Starlight, come here. It´ll be fine.“ He took a few steps in my direction, but I quickly held my hand up in front of him to keep a distance between me and my father. 

„Y/n. Darling, we´re…“ But he stopped when I shook my head and scowled at him. Stared at all of them, anger written on my face, before I winnowed to my room. Leaving them all guilty and silent. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

With my back against the door, I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. It´s my life! I get to decide how I deal with Eris! Why do they keep talking about it like it isn´t my decision? Like it´s not my life? 

My nails scraped the floor, attempting to hold on to something, anything, as I spiralled down a path I didn´t want to go. A guttural sound escaped my lips as my hand clenched into a fist and slammed into the expensive wood panels beneath me. Pain shot through my knuckles, making me want to scream. Anger. Fear. Emptiness. These emotions ran through my mind as my body shook with sobs. Why can´t I just talk? I want to, but I can´t... I don´t know... the words just won´t come out when I try. It made me even angrier when I thought about it. Do I not feel safe enough around my own family to talk to them? Or is there something wrong with me? 

A knot formed in my stomach. I had never had a big problem with myself before. Not with my body, nor with my inability to speak to others. But now I wished, longed to talk to someone. Just someone who understood me. Someone who...

A certain scent wafted through the room making me pay attention. Was that smoke? I sat up straighter to observe my own bedroom. Books were scattered across the floor and the door to the neighbouring bathroom was open. My bed was made, covered in indigo silk sheets that shimmered slightly in the moonlight streaming in through the closed windows. A few plants hung from the frescoed ceiling. Nothing more.

My eyes were no longer watery and my heartbeat had stabilised. But I could still smell that there was... something. Parchment.

I looked over at my desk, which was littered with various rolls of parchment, papers and pencils of all kinds. But right in the middle. Something had changed. 

Slowly, on shaky legs, I got up and walked over to my desk. A crimson envelope lay there, and next to it a shiny golden feather with light brown spots. I couldn´t remember putting anything like that here. It smelled of an open fire, fresh rain and a hint of vanilla. 

Deep down I knew who must have sent it. I opened the letter with trembling hands.

 ・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

Hello Princess,

Do you remember the night we met? To be honest, I can´t forget you. Standing on the balcony in your stunning gown, watching the stars fall upon you, even though they couldn´t diminish your appearance. At first I wasn´t sure how to approach you, but I did it anyway.

And it turned out to be one of the most wonderful nights I have ever had, and I wanted to thank you for it.

I could almost hear him chuckling to himself as a warmth filled my heart.

As you probably know by now, I'm your mate, but I don´t want you to feel obligated to anything that concerns me. It is your decision whether or not you wish to meet with me. ( Though I wouldn´t mind, of course) 

A blush spread across my tear-stained cheeks and I instinctively smiled. He had thought of me. He really had. My heart melted like snow in early spring. Something about him made me feel complete and understood. 

But if that´s the case, winnow to the border of Autumn in two days. I´ll be waiting for you under a birch tree when the sun sets. You can´t miss it. Sleep well, Princess! 

His letter also contained a small note. 

(Oh, the feather and the paper you write on will appear on my desk as soon as you write back).

・✧✵✧・✧✵✧・

I was speechless. Not just because he had thought of me or wanted to meet me. No. But because he would let me decide for myself. He wouldn´t force me to accept the bond, even if it hadn´t snapped for me yet. 

Not wanting to think clearly at the moment, I did the only thing that seemed right. I broke the agreement with my parents. 

I pulled out the chair, sat down, picked up the quill and wrote back. 

Half an hour later, I was lying in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and a gentle night breeze caressing my form. A few candles were lit to provide some sort of night light. 

Just as I was falling asleep, footsteps came from the hallway and my bedroom door creaked as it slowly opened. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep, not wanting to talk to whoever it was. „Darling, are you still awake?“ My father´s voice echoed through the room as he peeked out from behind the door. 

Just breathe. He won´t recognise it.

And he didn´t. He only walked over to my bed and tucked a few loose strands of hair behind my ear, while the last thing I heard was him whispering: „I´m deeply sorry, Starlight.“ before he silently walked out of my room, leaving me alone. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not the slightest flicker of light. Total darkness consumed everything around me. No light, nor sun, nor any kind of something... soft. Something to keep me warm as the cold crept up my body, like a hidden shadow from the depths of darkness. 

I gasped for some air to reach my lungs, but all I could inhale was dust. Air! I need air! My lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen and a tingling sensation shot through my entire being.

I felt like a flame being smothered as a deep, dark wave crashed over me, trying to drown me, as if I were nothing. As if I didn´t matter. 

The darkness drew closer with each passing second. Minute? Hour? Time didn´t matter in this place of emptiness. A place without walls or windows or even solid ground. The only things that trapped me were my own thoughts and the giant beast I couldn´t see, but felt. It swallowed everything around it as its claws raked along my skin, my soul, leaving scratches all over me.

I screamed, but all that came out of my mouth was... nothing. Every sound, no matter how small, was absorbed by the emptiness of this place. 

My body was drenched in sweat and my voice must have been hoarse by now from screaming my heart out for I don´t know how long. Slowly my body was losing consciousness and I was drifting further and further into the devouring void as I frantically tried to breathe. Please! I need to breathe! My heart stuttered for a moment. Help... help me! Somebody! Please, I... Hot tears streamed down my face and my eyes slowly closed as I was suffocated and drowned by the beast that guarded this place. My body went limp, tired from fighting. 

A gentle brush of soft fur against my back was the last thing I felt as I drifted into nothingness. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

I jolted out of my sleep, my heart racing and the sheets beneath me damp with sweat. You´re awake! Everything is fine! I placed my hand over my chest, feeling my pulse slowly steady as I realised it was all just a nightmare. The silver curtains swayed slightly at the open windows and the moon shone so brightly I had to blink my eyes. `Shh, it´s all right, Little one. I´m here´ it yearned to say. My breathing had normalised and I ran a hand through my sticky hair. It was just a dream. I lay back and tried to sleep again, but I knew it was going to be a long night. 

✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦・✴︎✦

@tele86 @circe143 @impossibelle @st4r-girl-official @cherry-cin

[herlondonboy]

7:3

Pairings: Wednesday Addams x platonic!reader / Enid Sinclair x platonic reader / Larissa Weems x platonic!reader

Summary: 7 reasons to go, 3 reasons to stay

Warnings: suicide, suicidal thoughts, vent fic I guess, so uh, like bcos I need validation 🫶 pure, unfiltered, angst. (Part two here) (Tagging: @lxtins @allisonsblog @wednesday-l0ver @capryuk @smolgayhooman @elduster because they said they’d read it x)

Word Count: 1.1k

Seven reasons to go, three reasons to stay. It honestly seems like such an easy answer, but if you add a zero onto the end of both numbers it becomes harder. Seventy reasons to go, thirty reasons to stay. You sat atop of this hill, resting your back against the oak tree. Weighing the reasons in your head made the pit in your stomach grow, but it needs to be soon.

1. You have no family.

In a fit of blind rage at eight, you set your house ablaze. The fire started in your parents bedroom where you, your mother and father and your little brother were. Larissa Weems, a family friend, was quick to aid you. She brought you to Nevermore and raised you like her own. It was abnormal for normie families to have Outcast children, but that just meant the Outcast gene laid dormant for a few generations. You didn’t speak to anyone for seven years after the incident.

Though Larissa was the closest thing you had to a family, she wasn’t your family and the kids at school liked to remind you of that.

2. The overwhelming anger.

Your nostrils flared as you watched the boy, whose name you never bothered to learn, called you an orphan for the umpteenth time that day. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm until you felt blood rolling down. Pain makes you human, Larissa had said to you. Why wasn’t it working? A wolf pushed you and you struck him with flame covered fist. Your hand was burned onto his face and he hand to live in humiliation with that scar for the rest of his life.

The kids around you immediately dissipated and ran away from you. Then your roommate asked to switch dorms

3. People would finally care.

They don’t care until it’s too late. You knew this now, throwing the noose end of the rope over the highest branch that you could reach. You couldn’t even cry. Why would cry? Crying for the people that never even batted an eyelash at you. For he people that saw your pain and laughed in your face, dancing on what was left of your happiness, hoping to ruin it all for you. You can imagine the people that pushed you to this crying in each other’s arms as your body was lowered into the ground. Who do they think they are?

4. You hurt everyone you touched.

Larissa had pulled you into a hug when you came to her office sobbing. You were hesitant to accept it, but you did in the end. You remember her scream and push you away. It haunted your nightmares every. Single. Night. You looked down at your hands and your eyes widened at the melted fabric on your palms. She told you that it was all right and that she was just shocked, but you didn’t believe her.

You began using weird techniques you’d read about in books from the library; sitting in the kitchen’s walk in freezer for as long as you could, taking ice baths, letting your anger out in a controlled environment.

5. The dreams.

Waking up drenched in sweat and covered in a crisp duvet was not your forte. In fact, waking up wasn’t your forte. Your family coming back from the dead to berate you, blame you. They wanted to kill you back. Your brother showing you what could’ve been, what would’ve been, what should’ve been him. A dashing you man, your mother had said before casting her eyes over you in disgust. You wanted to apologise, but that didn’t deserve it. They should have to beg you for forgiveness. The world should have to beg you for your forgiveness. And it would have if you really wanted it to. You had the power to burn the world to ash.

6. You’d stop being a burden.

Larissa Weems already had a whole school of children to deal with. And, though she didn’t say it, you knew having you in her office for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was bothering her. You didn’t want to admit it, but you grew to like her presence, so instead of staying cooped up in your room, you stayed cooped up in her office. You’d get short, curt answers when asking something and you took that as a hint.

7. Eternal peace.

You’d be free from all your suffering. You’d be dead, you’d be gone. There’s no analogy for this reason. It’s just a fact. You wanted to be gone, that’s all.

But now the reasons to stay.

1. Your Larissa.

She really was your family. The reason you were still alive right now, but it was proving not to be enough. You just hoped that she didn’t blame herself for this. She had saved you and protected you for as long as she could, but now it was down to you. You had to make a decision and it led to you tightening the rope around the trunk of the tree.

2. The people that liked your company.

You had met Enid Sinclair in your fourth year of solitude since you’d come to Nevermore. She walk talkative and it was nice for the both of you. She liked having someone that listened to her ranting and you liked listening to someone talk to you without belittling your feelings. Then you met Wednesday on your 16th birthday, three years later. She was Enid’s roommate and you were scared that Wednesday was going to take her away from you. But that’s not what happened. Soon in days where you waited for Enid in her dormitory, you found yourself enjoying the silence between you. It wasn’t that Enid’s rambling was annoying, but silence was nice every once in a while. Lastly, you met Eugene. He reminded you of your little brother, predominantly the good parts of him. He was a perfect mix of Wednesday and Enid. You loved hearing about his bees and how his mom’s were doing. You adored reading books with him in the library. He helped you get over your fear of yourself.

3. Life.

Sure, you hated life. But there were fun times like when you were five, on your father’s shoulders as he ran through the forest by Nevermore. Or on your fifteen birthday when Enid and Larissa threw you a surprise party in your dorm where’re the three of you danced the night away. Not to mention when you made Eugene laugh. A smile graced your face the whole day after hearing him cackle at a note you gifted to him. Even if it go you kicked out from the library.

It was moments like that that you craved.

But you didn’t get much more because here you were, standing on a stool as you put your head through the noose. Just as you strained to kick the stool away, you heard a scream.

“No!” They said, but it was too late.

Wednesday was too late.

[areyoudreaminof]

The Day is Coming: Eris Week Day 2

It's Day 2 of @erisweekofficial! I really wanted to satisfy myself here and expand a bit more on Uncle Eris. His desire for a true family, the healing that has come with his young nieces, and his own reflection of his childhood. Just a short little treat. Enjoy!

Taking for granted This lifetime and what's up ahead

But the day is coming, the day is near The day is coming, the way is clear

My Morning Jacket-The Day is Coming

The boy sits with his new hounds, alone. 

The pups wriggle in his lap, around his feet. Slippery coats of smoke colored fur and pink paws. They whine and squeak as they crawl blindly across his lap and feet. He can only hold two or three at a time and their mother is exhausted, panting as she waits for more milk to come in. The boy makes sure to pet her too, to remind her she’s not alone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Uncle Eris, look! This one’s opening his eyes!” 

Eris turns to the little redheaded girl who’s gently holding a blueish gray pup in her fingers. His eldest niece is right, the pup's eyes are opening. Her brown eyes are lit up with excitement. The little golden haired girl on his lap gasps with wonder. His youngest niece hasn’t helped with the pups before, and Eris delights in it all. 

“It will take him a few days to make out shapes, but he can still recognize your smell and touch.” Eris tells his nieces. Cyra, the youngest, giggles as the pup sniffs and licks her fingers. The eldest, Mathilde, softly strokes the white splash of fur between the pups' eyes. 

“They’re so sweet,” Cyra whispers, “when do they start to play?” 

“In a few days, I’d wager,” Eris says with a smile, “You both will just have to stay until then, I think.” 

The girls squeal with delight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy sits alone amongst the trees. After his lessons with Father, his hands and back sting with emerging welts. So, he escapes to the oak groves where it is quiet. The wind does not hiss insults at him, only sighs softly. When he was younger, he and his mother would take long walks around the gardens, watching leaves fall. But since his lessons began he hardly sees his mother, his father and tutors now watch his every movement. So now, he inhales what little freedom he has left. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Me and Cricket are making a leaf maze!” Cyra chirps. Eris chuckles at the nicknames his brother gave to his nieces. The rest of their families use them, but Eris loves their names just as they are. 

“Is that so? Round or square?” 

“Square!” Mathilde says as she bounces over, “Me and Froggy can get more dead ends with a square. We’re going to have Mama and Papa do it when they come to get us too.” 

“Very good.” He kisses each of them on the nose, red with crisp autumn air. “Should I help?” 

“Yes!” his nieces giggle. Eris begins to design the maze with more leaves. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy looks at the fire coming from his fingertips with terror. 

He had gotten angry at one of his brothers. They kicked him, broke a wooden post, then blamed him. He was sent to the racks for punishment and his father whipped him raw. Now, on the carpet of his room, the flames lick his skin. They do not hurt, but he can feel it. He feels the rage and anger. He feels the unrelenting fear in his blood as the fire crackles. Will his father beat him for this too? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eris opens Cyra’s small hand beneath his. Her dark golden skin almost glowing beneath his own pale hand. His youngest niece found that she could summon the Autumn flame at a very public gathering. The pride hadn’t left Eris since. He found he loved rubbing it in Helion’s face that only one of his beloved granddaughters got Day Court powers. Mathilde was disappointed at her own lack of fire, but she was happy for her sister. Lucien had the ability too, of course, but Eris had begged him to let Crya come to Autumn once a week to be trained. 

Eris would not say it aloud, but he wanted to train his own heir. 

“When you summon your flame, feel it in your fingertips. You were angry or scared, but what else did you feel?” 

Cyra wrinkles her brow, “It felt like the hounds licking at my fingertips, or when I poke myself on my needle when I quilt with Grandmother,” she shuts her eyes, tightly, “It’s under my skin sometimes. Like when my foot is asleep, or my heart’s beating fast after I go swimming. My blood feels warm too.” 

Eris nods he knows the feeling very well. “Open your eyes, dearest.” 

The Autumn Flames dances across her hand. Reds, oranges, and a deep blue burn brightly across her fingertips. Cyra stares at her flame with awe, and so does Eris. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The young man spits blood out from his mouth as his father strikes him again. 

“I gave you an order and you deliberately disobeyed me. Lucien makes for Spring, and why is that?” his father sneers. 

The young man says nothing, and his father grabs the young man by the throat, forcing him to the metal rack. Heavy cuffs strap the young man’s feet down, while his father snaps chains over his wrists. He turns and grabs an instrument off the table. The young man shuts his eyes, takes a breath, and tries to will himself away before the pain comes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His brother stands before him, holding a small baby. His niece. 

Her skin is a deep golden color, tinged with pink, but the hair is unmistakable. Red as his own, the same red as her father and her grandmother. The baby’s mother smiles from her bed, Eris smiles back. 

“Her name is Mathilde,” Lucien whispers. He hands the bundle to Eris, who takes it slowly. For as many infant brothers as he’s held, this is different. 

“After mother’s sister,” Eris murmurs. The babe sleeps peacefully in his arms. Her full lips are puckered, her small pointed ears sticking out among fine red curls. He strokes her small hand that has escaped the swaddle. Mathilde opens her eyes as she grasps his finger tightly. She looks at him with russet eyes and it hits him then. He begins to sob. 

“He’s gone,” he whispers as he looks at Lucien, “He cannot touch us again. He’ll never corrupt her. She’s safe.” 

Lucien knows, of course he does. He says nothing though, just wraps his arm around Eris and sobs with him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boy can feel the itch creep on his nose as he sits on the velvet chair, waiting for the artist to stop painting. He is bored and restless and his tunic itches. It is heavy with golden thread woven into leaves, while a thick, leather jerkin makes in sweat in the firelight and candelabras that populate the room. 

The old fae brushes away at his canvas, looking over spectacles and a hooked nose. He will finish a painting that resembles Eris, but makes sure to highlight the cruelty in his face, to make him resemble his lord father more. It will hang along the halls of the Forest House, collecting dust and trapping the boy for eternity in discomfort. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eris kicks his boots off as he sinks into his sofa. The fire crackles as Anais and Justinian, his oldest and most loyal hounds lay at his feet. The day with advisors and emissaries was a long one, full of squabbling and shouting. Now, Eris takes a moment to rest in his solar. 

He looks up above the fireplace where the first painting catches his eye. His nieces look out at him with mischief and laughter from the painting. Mathilde’s wild red hair is lifted as she jumps for joy, while Cyra’s dimples are visible with her smile. The leaves they’re kicking up seem to move and their own smoke hounds are caught in midair at their feet. Lucien was quite jealous that his daughters were given a smokehound. “Life’s certainly tough for you, isn’t it?” Eris had simply said. 

On another wall, portraits of the girls as infants hang. And above his desk, a painting of the three of them, in Autumn Court regalia, hangs. Eris smirks as he looks at his own smile, his nieces in each arm. Mathilde grins as if she knows a secret, while Cyra stares out with warmth in her eyes. Feyre painted all of them, of course. As their aunt, she too knew the girls and could capture their likeness in the canvas without having them pose for hours. Eris laughs at the details, because in their outfits, Feyre has painted a little creature into the threads to represent their nicknames. A cricket, for Mathilde, and a little frog for Cyra. 

Leaning his head back on the sofa, Eris closes his eyes and enjoys this moment of peace. It is Anais's grunts that bring him back. "You're right, old girl." he says, leaning down to pet her great head, "We must get some sleep, the girls are coming tomorrow." 

TAGLIST: @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @elleybug @queercontrarian @iftheshoef1tz @yanny-77 @tunaababee @pippsmcgee @separatist-apologist @fieldofdaisiies

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: This is my first time ever writing fanfic. I have been reading fanfic on this godforsaken app since I was 12, and have been encouraged blindly by my best friend to post this. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Steam

The walk back to your chambers was a quick journey. The hair on your arms stood up, as the ever present feeling of being watched surrounded you. The soft sound of your footfall echoed in the mostly empty wing of the Red Keep where your chambers resided.

The art on the walls of the Keep had been changed to Queen Alicent’s tastes. Bland colours and entirely not Targaryen, replaced the once brightly decorated halls and walls of your old home. You followed the torches until you reached the heavy oak of your doors, having them opened by a Knight of the Kings Guard; his white cloak standing stark against the dark corners of the corridor. 

As he pushed open your door you asked him to summon your maids. 

“Could you please fetch Aella and Saria for me? Have them prepare some water for a bath.” 

He bowed his head, “Yes, my Lady”, pulling your doors shut.

Your chambers were the same as the ones you had as a child, most of the furnishing and decor had not changed, though some things had. The room, however you could tell, had been unused since your departure many years before.

The windows looked out towards the sea, the moon softly reflecting on the water, flickering with the waves. A shadow could be seen above, a great beast flapping its wings to push itself and its rider higher into the sky. Its looming shadow slipped between the clouds rolling in, and you prayed a storm would blow in from the sea and knock Aemond off of Vhagar and into the ocean below him. 

Vhagar was the largest dragon in the world, fitting for your uncle as he had the largest ego in the world. You often joked to your brothers that he was most likely compensating for his manhood. Unlike his brother, you had not heard of his conquests with any women, or men. He was entirely elusive, a man with little or nothing to say, that many knew naught about except for his anger. 

Lost in your thoughts, Aella and Saria knocked on your chambers and you bid them to enter. Aella was young, no older than two-and-twenty. She had bright curly red hair that was always tightly pulled away from her face in braids that formed a low bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes were a deep brown and she had a dusting of freckles upon her nose and cheeks.

Saria was the opposite. A few years older than you, her hair was as black as night, and silky smooth, worn in a similar style to Aella, but with flowing bangs that framed her face. Her eyes were a bright blue and her skin was a deep olive.

Aella and Saria came with you from Dragonstone and had served you for many years. Both were kind and trustworthy, and you would sometimes dare to call them your friends. 

The girls carried two large metal buckets each; steam rising high out of them. The two maids walked across the stone floors and placed them against the far wall. More maids walked in, carrying more steaming buckets of water and a large metal tub, placing it next to the burning fireplace, and began to fill it.

“Will you be joining the King for dinner, My Lady?” Aella asked, lifting one of the buckets letting the water carefully fall in as to not splash upon her or the ground.

“I will,” You replied, “I have not seen my Grandsire the King for many years. I’ve missed him,” You paused and thought, “and Prince Aemond extended a very warm invitation for me to join.” You looked up to see Aella and Saria give you a knowing look.

They had both witnessed the one-eyed Prince torment you since your recent arrival, and have listened to your younger selves stories of his sudden random bullying before the loss of his eye. Such a sudden shift in him which had surprised you both. 

Some days it was as though he had forgotten that he hated you then, talking to you excitedly about something he had learnt in the library, before realising his mistake and scowling, stalking off away from you. 

You had never truly understood the shift, but it was only ever in the open, before the eyes of court that he did it. If you were tucked away in private, he would speak to you kindly as he always had. You had shrugged it off as a child, but as you had gotten older, you realised that perhaps Alicent had been the reason for it.

“I wish to look my best this evening. It has been a long time since I have been in the presence of my family, and I want to make sure they know of how I have grown.” 

Saria came behind you and began to unlace your dress, pulling it softly over your head. 

Your slip was loosened by a tie at the front and it dropped down, pooling at your feet. The large copper tub had steam rising over the top, the light from the fire reflecting off of its side created a beautiful light that danced upon the wall.

Lifting your foot you stepped over and into the water, letting the stress and anxiety of the day melt away as you sank deeper into the tub. Leaning up against the high lip of the back, Aella lifted your braids from your neck and over the top, slowly untangling your hair and brushing out the strands.

Saria walked across the room and over to a large wooden wardrobe, which sat beside the bed. Dancing dragons were carved into the doors, with the faint remnants of paint covering them, with soft gold leaf detailing lining the trim of the wardrobe.

It was one of the last things left in this room that was yours, making you think that perhaps Queen Alicent did have a heart after all. Opening the two doors, Saria reached in and began pulling out gowns to present to you. 

“What about this dress Princess?” She held a deep red gown with a high neck. The shoulders pointed upwards and held the sleeves of the gown together with gold chains. The long sleeves were inwardly lined with a golden silk and there were black embroidered Godswood branches reaching along the hem and bust of the gown.

“Beautiful but no, I am wanting black for this evening.” 

Aella continued to braid your hair back, whilst you rested in the tub. 

Saria went back to the wardrobe and brought forth another dress. This time it was a black, short sleeved one. Gold embroidered flames licked at the bottom of the gown, which split at the front up towards the fitted corset of the waist. A golden skirt peeked through the split, which shimmered like the fireplace.

The neckline was modest and although it was one of your favourites to wear back home in Dragonstone, you felt that the dress was more of a summer gown, and the coolness of the night that nipped at you made you think this dress would be too thin.

“I think I want something more mature. They haven't seen me since I was young, I am older now and wish to show it.” 

You closed your eyes sinking further into the water to think for a moment, Aella pouring oils into the bath to soak your skin.

“Are any of the new dresses from Dorne?” You inquired, opening one eye to look at Saria.

The dark haired girl paused in thought, then hurriedly walked back to the wardrobe. 

The next time she stood before you, she held a new gown you had not worn nor seen before. 

“This is new from Marba, the tailor in Dorne.”

It was a dark black, sweeping gown. Its neckline plunged sharply into a deep V, dark black leather wrapped tightly around the waist and was embroidered with black vines that looked like dragons tails. The sleeves were long and open, that hung off by the shoulders that were lined with drooping gold chains. The inner lining was a deep blood red.

It was unlike any gown you had seen before.

Slowly you stood, Aella holding out her hand for you to take to help you out of the tub. Steam slowly rising off of your body as she pressed a warm towel to dry you, softly pushing your undergarment over your head to wear. You walked towards Saria, who held out the dress for you to inspect.

Up close, the black embroidery shimmered like threads made of Onyx, and the leather was finely stitched together to pull the waist into a tighter shape. The chains on the sleeves were thin and wound together like long chainmail braids, so delicate it draped softly and weightlessly as to not misshape the gown.

The plunging neckline was like most dresses witnessed in Dorne, but not nearly as often in King's Landing.

“It is beautiful, thank you Saria.” You smiled, “Help dress me, I’m sure they are expecting me soon.” 

Saria held the gown and helped you into it, lifting it over your head and pulling it down. The inner lining was soft on your skin and the leathered waist was a new but not unwelcome weight against you. Slipping your arms through the sleeves you heard the soft jingling of the chain detailing, they looked similar to a warriors chainmail, and you thought for a second that you looked as if you were dressed to go to war. 

Though this thought was not entirely unsubstantiated. Queen Alicent, your two uncles and aunt all still to this day wore green, were referred to as the Greens and were still waging a silent war against your mother and you all.

You thought of how your uncle Aemond would react to seeing you in a dress like this, but that thought was short lived as Saria began to tighten your gown, pulling in your waist which then lifted your breasts. You giggled at the prospect of irritating the prudish Queen Alicent, as Aella began to fuss with the finishings of your hair. 

The dress fit you perfectly, and your hair was swept back in small intricate braids which were held together by golden charms, the rest of your hair sat softly down your back. 

“You look beautiful Princess,” Aella spoke breaking the silence, “they are sure to see how you have matured with your years away from the Keep.”

 She and Saria smiled softly and dabbed small drops of perfumed oils behind your ears and upon your wrists.

Ensuring that you were ready, Saria and Aella began to clean your chambers as you walked to your door, having the Knight open them for you.

Taking a deep breath you stepped out and began to walk behind the Knight. His white cape swayed behind him as you walked down the corridor to feast with your family again after many years apart. 

[morningstargirl666]

WIP WEDNESDAY THURSDAY

I swear, I intended to get something done for wednesday but it never really works that way (don't come at me y'all). Also, since I'm rewriting tbbw at the mo, it's kinda the only wip I'm working on so most of the edits are focused around the siblings - not the klaroline.

However! Made some changes to one of the scenes where Klaus broods over Caroline and here we are, on this rare occasion, to see some of the changes I've made. Spoilers under the cut:

“You are in such a foul mood today.”

Klaus made a noise that might have been a growl. “If you hadn’t noticed, Esther is still out there no doubt plotting another way to kill me and my family. Not to mention my siblings are still bound together making us more vulnerable than ever. And now-” he ground out, hissing the words through his teeth, “I find out that a white oak of the same line as the tree that made us vampires might be out there somewhere in the world, waiting to be used to kill us.” Klaus glared dangerously at Sam, lip curled as he turned around to stare instead at the fire. “My mood is perfectly appropriate.”

“So…” Sam took another bite of his apple, slowly raising it to his mouth, eyes on Klaus, who was watching the sketches become devoured by flames, a brooding hand resting under his chin. As Sam chewed, he gestured to the fireplace with the apple core. “It has nothing to do with why you’re burning sketches of one Caroline Forbes?” he asked, perfectly innocent.

“I’m burning them because she means nothing to me,” he ground out through gritted teeth, refusing to turn and deign Sam with a glance. “She was a passing fancy, nothing more.”

Sam titled his head, squinting. “The wolf didn’t seem to think that.”

“My wolf is clearly defective,” Klaus spat, throwing a hand out, abandoning his attempt at a calm, contemplative stance.

“If you say so,” Sam muttered with raised brows, deliberately not looking at Klaus and instead focusing on his phone as he munched on his apple.

Klaus shook his head, glaring into the flames as he watched the sketches burn. Sam’s silence gnawed at him, making him twitch with the urge to explain himself.

It wasn’t long before he did. 

“I knew Esther was planning something, I knew she would betray us and I did nothing because I was distracted by a girl that leapt at the chance to attack my family the second opportunity arose,” he burst out, whirling on Sam. Mouth halfway to his apple, Sam froze, rather wide-eyed. Klaus continued on regardless, his words growing more vicious, poisoned with such vitriol, his lips curled into a snarl. “Kol got daggered because of her! The Salvatores nearly killed you - because of her,” he spat, emphasised with a pointed jab to the floor. Sam lowered his apple, cowered by the wild look in Klaus’ eye. The man in question laughed, a short huff of bitterness, gesturing to Sam angrily, inviting him to prove him wrong. “So please, tell me why I should entertain this infatuation any longer? When it has proved to be dangerous not only to my own sanity but also to the safety of this family.”

Sam didn’t say anything for a long moment, his appetite completely forgotten. Then, slowly, he looked up at Klaus, a certain defiance in his eye.

“She knew about the champagne, Nik,” he said softly. Immediately, the anger, the readiness for a fight - it all drained away, leaving Klaus feeling wrong-footed in the face of Sam’s pointed truths. “Granted, she didn’t know what spell was in the champagne; didn’t know you weren’t linked to your siblings… but she knew you hadn’t drunk it. And she didn’t tell her friends.” Sam smiled sadly, shrugging helplessly. “Maybe it is stupid. Maybe it is a mistake. But if it was me? Personally, I’d want to know why she didn’t betray you as much as you’d like to believe.”

Klaus forced himself to swallow. He quickly looked away, unable to keep looking at the expression on Sam’s face that seemed to see through him entirely, his words resonating loudly inside his mind. Heaving a sigh, Sam stood, throwing the apple core into the nearest wastebasket. He hesitated before leaving the room, gaze softening on Klaus, sympathy in his eyes. 

“Just because your parents didn’t love you, doesn’t mean no one else will,” he said. 

Then Sam left, not allowing him time to respond. Klaus glared at his back, hands clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“Love is a vampire’s greatest weakness,” he ground out, calling after him.

Sam stopped in his tracks, slightly turning his head back towards Klaus. Then he smiled, and with one sentence, shattered a belief Klaus had closely courted for centuries. 

“Good thing you’re not a vampire then, isn’t it?”

And with that parting remark, Sam turned with a smirk and left the room, leaving Klaus wide-eyed, forced to contemplate over what he had said. In the dancing flames of the hearth, the sketches Klaus had thrown into the fire continued to burn, flames licking at their edges and crawling across the lines of charcoal and pencil, leaving nothing but ash behind. He looked down at the last sketch of Caroline he’d drawn: the first moment she stepped into his studio, eyes wide with awe as she craned her head to look up at the paintings hung around on the walls. Fingers reverently skimming over her face, he gently tugged the paper from the pad but didn’t throw it into the flames like the others, placing his sketchbook aside on the mantel almost with half a mind. Then, careful not to damage the soft lines of Caroline’s features, he folded the sketch tentatively in two and slipped it into his back pocket.

He told himself he would burn it later. He didn’t.

[jymwahuwu]

Last one was great!

Poor arrogant reader soon will be fired from her position as head of the Family for some fabricated case, she is now basically jobless with all her belongings and money arrested and guards are not letting her leave Penacony.

She is such a mess now, so stresssed out with her career ruined she isnt even noticing that she hadnt got her period for several months.

But who will she come for help, who will accept a mess like her at such low point of her life?🤔

Of course our angelic prick will take her in. Reader doesnt have a choice to be honest. She doesnt have money to pay for shelter, food and medical care for her condition anymore?

I also hc Penacony being really expensive place especially in terms of healthcare. And abortions are strictly prohibited.

Well, clean house, homemade meals and some other nightly services could cover those expences. Our arrogant girlie will have to humble herself a bit.

And kid being born out of wedlock? Not on Sunday's watch!

Imagine some time later her former coworkers, heads of other Families or her former subordinates witnessing reader going out for groceries or just going out for a walk with Sunday holding her hand firmly?

She does not seems like arrogant bitch anymore, her belly is swollen, clothes are modest, matching rings at couple's fingers.

so sorry for the long delay in replying!!

I've been meaning to find the time to write this... and thank you for writing it in such detail. super love the content about arrogant reader get humiliated. this is awesome 😽💗💖 sunday brings it all to you but you started it first, right?

part 1

cw: yandere, dub-con, brainwashing, mind control, housewife kink, pregnancy, inappropriate traditional concepts (language about serving husband and family)

Sunday used to always forgive your arrogance and intrigue, but that's the past.

Since you like this trick so much, Sunday brings these back to you. In this dreamy and fallen city, your reputation is completely destroyed in half an hour. (He was at the party, shaking his glass and socializing with the guests.) Some Bloodhound family guards burst into your office and led you away , in full view of everyone and a lot of chatter. They grabbed your hands and dragged you forward. (He stretched his hands into fists, put them to his lips and chuckled.) It was almost a crime of betrayal to Xipe and The Family. Listen to harsh words and sign documents. (The money ejected from the machine flies into the sky. The scale of the clock is turning.)

These days of interrogation have left you exhausted. One day, you open the door to your home with the usual verification, but there is a notice on the door that it has been sealed and frozen. That was locked and confiscated. A cold stab of fear stabbed your back. There is no way to book a hotel room or rent a new house. Your bank account is also blocked.

The final straw is the realization that you haven't had your period in months. Used the last of your credit points to take a pregnancy test. The result is a baby growing inside you. There was no doubt that it was that wing bastard's baby. A baby destined to have a halo and wings.

Your eyes were sore, and tears welled up in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks.

The eyes of birds these days are staring at you from every height, corner, and alley. Your pregnancy test results are sent to Sunday's phone. His glove patted your back gently. He whispers to you, the aura continuing to send out gentle waves, shushing you. You whimpered, pushing him away in annoyance. "Get away, you bastard!"

"I just did to you what you've always wanted to do to me. Don't make a fuss." The rising corners of the oak leader's mouth only added fuel to his raging anger at you. What happened to him? He's really terrible! You point at him and take a few steps back. "Don't fucking touch me! You hypocrite."

He frowned.

"No swearing."

"What the fuck-" Just like last time, a cheerful and harmonious arrangement of notes penetrated your mind. That ethereal and strange light appears before your eyes and captures your thoughts. You obediently followed Sunday to his mansion.

What Sunday offers you comes at a price. He provided for you, after all, didn't he? You can no longer be so arbitrary, arrogant and rude. You need to pray at the dinner table, kiss him on the cheek, and be grateful to Xipe and the nutritious food he provides you. Or have him pinch your cheeks and feed you. Now that you have no job and no money, you should have time to sweep the floor, right? Keeping the house tidy is important. He checked the dust on the vase and scanned the floor. Of course don’t forget to suck his cock and spread your legs at night. He will be very, very careful. (Sex during pregnancy is always slow. You whimper when milk is secreted from your buds.)

And witnessing that humiliation! Yes, in the past, you and he competed in the workplace, and the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knows you hate Sunday. And now other family members can see the changes in you. You held his hand tightly, intertwining your fingers with your belly swollen. Those luxurious clothes of the past have disappeared, replaced by your simple, loose skirts.

[thevelaryons]

All throughout Fire & Blood, Alyn has a tendency to find himself in the middle of various couples’ relationships. Whether it’s intentional or just a complete coincidence is debatable.

There’s whatever was going on in the Stepstones. Racallio clearly desired Alyn but he also wanted to see Alyn bed his wives. Was it just a ploy to make Alyn more willing to the idea of bedding Racallio later on or was there some sort of spouse sharing happening here?

Racallio kept him for more than a fortnight in his sprawling wooden fortress on Bloodstone.

[…]

When he did, the “Queen” was so delighted with him that he sent two of his wives to Oakenfist’s bedchamber that night. “Give them sons,” Racallio commanded. “I want sons as brave and strong as you.” Our sources are at odds as to whether or not Lord Alyn did as he was bid.

In the end Ryndoon allowed that the Velaryon fleet might pass, for a price. He wanted three ships, an alliance writ on sheepskin and signed in blood, and a kiss. Oakenfist gave him the three least seaworthy ships in his fleet, an alliance writ on parchment and signed in maester’s ink, and the promise of a kiss from Lady Baela, should the “Queen” visit them on Driftmark.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

There are rumours abound that Alyn may have had a fling with Princess Aliandra. She was being courted by many different people at the time, including a certain Lyseni who was also the only one who Alyn was seen alone with. Later on, it’s revealed that Aliandra takes that very same Lyseni, Drazenko, as her husband.

Aliandra Martell, Princess of Dorne, came out to meet with him, accompanied by a dozen of her current favorites and suitors. The “new Nymeria” had just celebrated her eighteenth nameday, and was reportedly much taken with the young, handsome, dashing “Hero of the Stepstones,” the bold admiral who had humbled the Braavosi. Lord Alyn required fresh water and provisions for his ships, whilst Princess Aliandra required services of a more intimate nature. Bastard Born would have us believe that he provided them, Hard as Oak that he did not. We do know that the attentions the flirtatious Dornish princess lavished upon him much displeased her own lords, and angered her younger siblings, Qyle and Coryanne.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

Again he sailed along the parched, dry coasts of Dorne, this time beating eastward. Princess Aliandra was pleased at his return to Sunspear, and insisted on hearing every detail of his adventures.

[…]

It was at her court at Sunspear, during the Maiden’s Day feast (the very day that a thousand maidens were parading before Aegon III in King’s Landing), that his lordship was approached by a certain Drazenko Rogare, one of the envoys that Lys had sent to Aliandra’s court, who begged a private word. Curious, Lord Alyn agreed to listen, and the two men stepped out into the yard, where Drazenko leaned so close that his lordship said, “I feared he meant to kiss me.”

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

Then there is the close friendship between Alyn and his family’s former enemy, Lyonel. This closeness also extends to Lyonel’s wife, Samantha. The three have similar insolent natures so it makes sense why they mesh well with each other.

Lyonel Hightower himself came forth to meet them and welcome them to his city. The courtesy with which Lord Alyn treated Lady Sam warmed Lord Lyonel to him immediately, and the two youths struck up a fast friendship that did much to put all the old enmities between the blacks and greens to rest.

[…]

By that time, he had become close to Lady Sam as well as to Lord Lyonel, though whether he had any part in the writing of her infamous letter remains a matter of conjecture.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

His lordship made a brief visit to the Arbor, as Lord Redwyne’s guest, and a longer one at Oldtown, where he renewed his friendships with Lord Lyonel Hightower and Lady Sam.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

[natskys-w]

I have to much time on my hands AND Can't stop thinking about Jurdan. So if your reading this and it's full of mistakes l apologise l blame the boredom, we should all blame the boredom... and the fact l diden't pay much attention in English class.

"That blue FACED FERAL HARPY, l'm going to visicarate her and entombed her so FAR below the tower of the forgotten.  She won't even have insects to keep her company." Jude flung the queen off the chess board, without so much as a glance at the  chess piece. That shattered a magical vase that dare be in it's way and embedded itself into the wall, like a knife. 

His darling nemesis truly could make anything into a weapon.

"What was Oak thinking, putting himself in danger like that and forming an alliance with her of all people." Jude raged

"Beloved, Alliance is a strong word… Given his intentions"

"He could have come to me- no, should have come to me. He is the prince of Elfhame and the future king… Does he trust me so little."

She said

“Would you have let him go?”

“NO but thats not the point.”

“Well l think” Cardan said as he moved his rook “as a member of your family it would be strange, nay! concerning if he were to bow so easily to authority.  It would almost be like breaking tradition.” he reclined back, eyes a little hooded and with that mischievous smile, she loved.

“Look we still don't know enough about his relations with her. From what Madoc and our little spies said. It seems there is something there and for all we know they could just be playing rough.“

Jude answered that with a glare

“She's kidnapped, imprisoned, AND bridled him.”

Jude replied in a slow skeptical monotones voice 

“Maybe this is their courtship, and a full invasion and annihilation of your future sister in laws troops will only make holidays more awkward.”

“She is NOT my sister in law and l know what your thinking but they are not the same as us. Again She's kidnapped, enslaved AND BRIDLED him. He's probably being tortured as we speak scared and alone.”

“Wellll… it depends who's doing the kidnapping and enslaving…. The bridle however is a bit much for my taste, we would need a safe word.”

“Cardan!” 

She knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to distract her for a little from worrying about her baby brother.

“All l'm saying is maybe he's not so scared and alone and in fact might not appreciate the little assassin on it's way to turn her blood to slush.”

“So you suggest…” Jude looked defeated, Even though she corned his queen and  was two moves away from winning. 

His heart ached at not being able take away at least some of her pain and anger  for a little bit and his voice softened as his hand reached out for hers.

“That we give young love it's chance to bloom. If that's what this is… and if it's not, then rain iron and fire over her and her army.”

“I- l lied to Oriana”

Judes confessed her eyes drowning in tears. She would not let them shed

“ l promised; l would protect him.” her voice breaking even though she  looked as hard as stone over the board game her gaze lost on the dancing silhouette of their intertwined hands. The crackling of the fire filled the room as Cardan came to her side and gave a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist and scarred finger before scooping her  up and reposition themselves on her seat. Just basking in the moment of warmth before the morning came.