#has anyone read the fourth wing series

[suna-cerely-yours]

also recently finished iron flame.... in shambles

[dollyyun]

WAR OF HEARTS ✧ SERIES MASTERLIST

PAIRING ✧ dragon riders!hyung line + jungwon x dragon rider!fem reader GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), reverse harem, eventual poly, morally grey characters, romance (possibly subplot), forbidden romance element, enemies to lovers element, friendship, diversity in characters' dynamics, high fantasy, magic, thriller, dark themes, plot heavy and plot-focused, supernatural beings!characters, poor execution of politics, poor execution of tropes and etc in general GENERAL WARNING ✧ slow burn, rivalry, tensions, angsts, toxicity, explicit themes, profanities, corruption, perversion, coercion, manipulation, power imbalance, blackmailing, uses of threats, usage of weapons and magic, violence, blood, graphic descriptions, deaths, traumas, tragedy, supernatural inaccuracies, eventual smuts (warnings will be indicated on each part), original (made-up) characters DISCLAIMER ✧ i got inspired by fourth wing book (which also means that this fic is inspired by said book) as it was always on my fyp on tiktok but i haven’t read it before nor do i intend to make a purchase as the author is a zionist, from what i've heard and seen. gotta thank the book tho bc i’m now heavily invested in dragon riders!enha agenda so credits to fourth wing!

✧ SUMMARY ✧

The prestigious Aetherwing War Academy holds a valuable standing in the high society across continents, as it is the only academy where distinguished dragon riders hailed from and have served their respective nation for many generations, but not everyone can become a dragon rider even if that individual is highly skilful and masters the art of their distinctive power, because to be a dragon rider, you need to be chosen by a dragon, and when that happens, a beautiful bond that forms between the dragon and its rider will make them a force to be reckoned with.

Unfortunately, to be a dragon rider would also mean to compromise and to risk anything or anyone you hold dear, including your dragon, because once you are bonded to a dragon, your fate holds an insurmountable amount of peril.

Despite lacking in the magic department, you embark on your new journey with confidence, but along the way, you encounter these five men with diverse yet complex backgrounds. Just like you, they are new to this path in the hopes of becoming elite dragon riders, and so the six of you begin to navigate your way throughout this uncharted territory, but will all of you be able to succeed without getting yourselves in perilous situations because of the conflicting emotions within yourselves? Friendships are formed, feelings beyond platonic grow, and eventual romance begins to commence between you and these five men, but when conflict arises, it incites enemies within them, making it easy for them to turn against each other’s backs, and above all, there is nothing more conflicting than getting caught in a tangled web of love with these men.

But will love defy all odds when other issues begin to exacerbate your strained bond with these men? Issues that involve all dragon riders, including you, to act on the pledge that you swore, which you took on your first day at the academy. Eventually, war begins its course across the flaming horizon, a war that will unravel the horrifying truth, a war that will change everything you hold dear, and it is also during that moment when nearly all hopes you thought were lost that the six of you dreadfully realise that the real war has always been burning within your hearts.

Amidst this calamitous war that is enshrouding your world in near total darkness, will love succeed in conquering the unceasing tribulation? Will love alone be enough for the six of you to conquer and change your star-crossed fates? Will love triumph in this tormenting war of hearts?

PROLOGUE

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

PART 11

PART 12

PART 13

PART 14

PART 15

PART 16

PART 17

PART 18

PART 19

PART 20

EPILOGUE

PERM TAGLIST:

@ja3yun @yzzyhee @sunpov @vveebee @jiryunn

@nshmrarki @roslayy @machambrx @wonnienyang @punchbug9-blog

@hollyoongs @chicxxy @tunafishyfishylike @norucking @riribelle

@lol6sposts @skzenhalove @reading-wh0re @tinie03 @cyjhhyj

@jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @mitmit01 @strxwbloody @woorcve @1309zip

@fancypeacepersona @tsukiflwr @karinaever @wolfhardbby @moonpri

@lucid-sombra @kittylicious-purr @addictedtohobi @lillotus17 @minahaeyo

@in-somnias-world @jezzzzzzmin @deobitifull @doublebunv @mamuljji

@adroitlane @wilonevys @florestalio @senazzzz @firstclassjaylee

@hellokittygurl9999 @woorcve @1309zip @vwricky

[elainsgirl]

Hello. Feysand stan here. And elriels are like my younger siblings so I'm coming to the defence. Antis just don't understand writing, it's really that simple. They don't understand writing as a craft. Writing isn't vibes on paper. It's a narrative told through themes, symbolism, character arcs etc. And, most often, it's not even difficult to pick up on. Because, most often, it isn't supposed to be a mystery to unravel. You're supposed to be able to follow along. Its not a TikTok jump scare for brains whose attention spans have been fried and need constant plot twists to even keep their eyes open.

When antis say "previous books don't matter" and "anything could happen! We dont know what sjm will write!" Then all there is to say is "no". Elriels are just way too kind about this (to no one's surprise, because it's really no surprise that the fans of the most gentle characters of the series would be too reasonable for their own good). You know you have the whole narrative on your side.

Writing isn't "anything goes". Its not about what is theoretically possible. Theoretically, SJM could write acotar 6 from the POV of Andras in the afterlife. But that is an uninteresting argument. Because it's not about what's theoretically possible but about what has been set up through all the literary devices at a writer's disposal. And you actually don't even have to know a single thing about writing, and you still will pick up on it. That's how it goes. That's why little kids read Harry Potter and aren't surprised by the general direction of the story. That's why people read Fourth Wing without going all shocked pikachu face when Violet and Xaden end up together.

How insulting is it to say that sjm is so incompetent she spent a decade working on acotar and yet never was there a coherent narrative she built? All is vibes and plot twist taken from a random plot twist generator. That's what they sound like they think writing is. Just no. Its not "anything can happen". Its "what's been set up to happen will happen". And that is so obviously Elriel. And FINALLY. They've been stuck in that basement getting hot and heavy in silence for too long (that's hot though).

So, from one Feyre to all the Elains out there, the next time someone says "we don't know what sjm will write, anything could happen!" The answer should simply be "NO".

awe 💞

and I couldn’t agree more. Antis either read too depply into things missing the point or dont read deel enough, again, missing the point. They dont understand foreshadowing, build up, parallels, patterns etc. They don’t understand that with certain books especially fantasy series - things are layered. Plot, relationships and characters themselves all have multiple layers that are building up towards something. For antis it feels like all their takes are surface level and they try to come up with all these messed up, wrong, interpretations to sound clever and pretend they know what they’re talking about - but anyone with decent reading comprehension and understanding of writing as a craft can see right through their bs.

Everything about acotar is obvious. Elriel is meant to be obvious. Its right there in your face. Yes it is cliche but its meant to be. Mass has been so clear with the direction of the series - had laid it all out as clear as day it’s genuinely so shocking to see antis miss it every single time.

Im sorry, unless an author wants to be known as fickle or hasn’t foreshadowed it enough - they would never switch up 180 all of a sudden with no warning in the text. Mass has foreshadowed multiple things throughout the series and its all coming together book by book. We do know what will happen, Mass clearly states it in the books. Her foreshadowing in acowar, especially romantic pairings has been consistent for 3 books. She’s not going to throw all that away for a couple that - in comparison…has no foreshadowing to be together. Nothing tangible holding them together. Az can leave training and thats it. No more gwynriel interactions and it doesn’t disrupt the current flow of the series.

exactly, most books are predictable. You should be able to pick up on where the story is going, whose ending up together and the effect literary devices have. “Elain and Az are too obvious!” Yes they’re meant to be, you’re literally picking up the clues Mass is putting down. Obvious and predictability isnt bad writing and I wish more people understood this.

Mass has spent the past decade crafting this narrative of fate and destiny coming together. 3 sisters, each perfectly matching with 3 brothers isn’t some random coincidence Mass came up with. Its an intentional choice, its significant- it shows they where always meant to find each other and help each other fix whatever issues are present in the series. Not anything can happen. What happens in the next book has to flow and make sense with the previous book/series - as each book carries an overall plot. Very specific set of events that Mass has left clues for will happen in each book leading upto the big moment/event.

Elriel IS very obvious. Its in your face. By acosf, its no longer a subtle thing. Mass wants you to notice Elain and Azriel. She wants you to pair them together. The next couple isnt some mystery. Mass has kept elriel in the basement for so long but that just means a lot of thought went into their book and hopefully its one of the best books Mass has ever written.

so yh. When someone says “anything can happen�� - its valid to disagree with them bcs no. Not anything can happen.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: Can y’all please let me know if the long chapters are harder to digest? Because I love writing them, but if they actively impair enjoyment of the story I can start to cut them in half. Chapter Title from DEVIL by Shinedown.

Word Count: 13k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Everyone has a lesson in actions and their subsequent consequences. Emphasis on mental health issues warning for the chapter: specifically suicidal ideation and PTSD.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 6 - Chapter 8

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara @sukunassfinger, @justiceforquentin @acciditties

@c1gs-coffee @manicjk

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Free will was cruel, and you had some choice words for whatever had given it to you. "Words,” meaning several unspeakable acts of violence, a wide variety of cuss words and vulgar phrases that would leave even Ben agape, and at least one loud, feral scream.

Free will had allowed you to attend a fancy party at Vought, a party that put you in a silk dress and winged eyeliner with glossy lips. Free will had let you do one, two, three shots and gotten you tipsy enough that when the elegant woman with strawberry hair had asked if anyone wanted to sing on stage, asked the crowd if there was at least one guest who wasn’t tone deaf and could do a passible rendition of Moon River, you’d raised your hand. Free will had made you not do a fourth shot, so that when you started to sing you didn’t stumble around the stage, missing notes and embarrassing yourself, but had put on a perfect show, singing and swaying in time to the music.

Later, you had learned that the woman with the strawberry hair had been killed later that night, and Free will had allowed you to feel sorry about it. Free will had you visit her grave in the dead of night in a thunderstorm, and let you sing Moon River one last time.

Free will had allowed you to cave when Butcher and the Boys had found you in a different graveyard, only a month later. Free will let you stick with them all the way to the barn. Free will was what had you coming up with very, very stupid plans.

Not this plan, though. You loved this plan. You loved this plan enough that you hadn’t waited even a half hour after thinking of it to call Butcher, or two minutes after Butcher had screened your call to turn around and call MM instead.

“What’s wrong?” MM had picked up after two rings, and you could almost see his worried frown with his words. “Did Soldier Boy-“

“Ben’s in the living room yelling at a documentary about World War II.” You’d dismissed. “He likes to point out all the alleged inaccuracies. I have a plan, I need everyone here by tonight.”

“Uh,” MM said your name apprehensively. “I don’t think that’ll really work.”

“Look, I know everyone’s probably still freaked out about last night, but this is really important-“

“No, that’s not it. We’re fine. Butcher’s still being a fucking ass about it, but everyone else- Hey!” MM had yelled away from the receiver as something banged in the background, accompanied by muffled shouts.

“Uh, MM?” You’d frowned. “Where are you?”

“Ohio.”

“Ohi- why are you in fucking Ohio?”

“Soldier Boy’s shield is here. Turns out it’s been so motherfucking difficult to get because Vought has their hands on it, and they’ve been keeping it in a warehouse in Akron.”

“I thought it had been flown from Jacksonville, with the suit?”

“Nope. Akron. We didn’t know until a few days ago, even Mallory thought it was just waiting in cargo at JFK.”

You’d glanced down the hall to make sure Ben hadn’t heard that his shield was in Ohio, a state he’d once called “America’s shitstained taint” while watching a football game. You heard him shout “fucking commies didn’t do goddamn shit about the Nazi’s, fuck off!” And decided you were in the clear.

“When do you think you’ll be done?” You’d asked, keeping one ear open in case Ben decided to stop fighting with Ken Burns’ voice and join you in the kitchen.

“If Butcher keeps it together and nobody sees Annie and tips off Vought? Tomorrow night.” MM had answered tensely.

“Ok, come right here when you get back. Like I said, I've got a plan, but it’s time sensitive.” You gone to hang up, but paused with your finger over the button. “Don’t die.” You’d added, and heard MM’s grunted acknowledgment just before the call dropped.

Somehow they’d managed to meet MM’s prediction, and all returned in one piece. The team had stood awkwardly in the kitchen—almost everyone avoiding full eye contact with you despite MM’s claim of everything being fine—as you and Ben had sat at the counter, Ben making a mediocre effort to fake some sort of hospitality per your request.

“Thanks to Ashley,” you’d started. “We know Sage told Homelander that I’m in New York and Ben’s awake.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry about that.” Annie had said your name apologetically. “We should’ve been more careful-“

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You’d cut her off, giving Ben’s shin a swift kick behind the counter before he could’ve said anything, his disbelieving scorn at your statement running through where your arms were brushing. “And we can use this.”

“Use what?” Hughie had frowned, and you’d continued.

“They haven’t told anyone else about it. We weren’t even sure they knew until Ashley told us. I’m not anticipating them to start alerting the media about me anytime soon, but they should’ve announced that America’s number one traitor is back from the dead and out to attack the innocent.”

“Fucking rude.” Ben grumbled, and a surprisingly bruised feeling ran through you. “All I do is help you, Sunshine, and that’s how you fucking thank me?”

You gave him a quick, half-apologetic, half-annoyed look. I’m being sardonic for arguments sake, and you know it. He’d just rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the mozzarella sticks you’d heated up before the Boys arrived.

“But they haven’t done that,” you’d continued, giving Ben one last dirty look. “Which means-“

“They’re saving it for something.” Annie had finished your sentence with a thoughtful frown.

“Exactly. Sage has some sort of plan, some dramatic and complicated way to fear monger people, turn everyone against Starlight by saying you released Soldier Boy, and have been risking public safety by letting him run rampant for your own anti-American reasons.”

“You want to get ahead of it.” MM had said, eyes narrowed.

You’d nodded, and shared your plan. Now, two days later, you were squished in the back of the van between Hughie—a well placed towel separating any physical contact—and Ben—who despite many protests was eating your burger—watching Firecracker and The Deep sing in a way that made you want to permanently remove your ears.

You visibly recoil as The Deep looks into the camera, and Ben looks up from eating to watch the video as it plays on Hughie’s laptop.

“Fish-boy sounds like a fucking constipated cowboy,” Ben mutters through a mouthful of food.

You hum in agreement. “You even sounded better on your stupid Rapture video.”

Ben scowls, taking another large bite that muffles his words. “I was fucking fantastic in that.”

“You were certainly, technically, singing.” You look up at him with a grin. “With all the passion of a dying squid giving one last, mighty squirt.”

“I don’t ’squirt’, Sunshine.” Ben grumbles, and you can see the moment every filthy thing he could say pops into his head. He takes a rough swallow, mouth opening to say something that will undoubtedly make Hughie regret volunteering to stay in the van, and you cut him off.

“Before you say anything, keep in mind that is still my burger, meaning I have every right to take it back and shove it right up your ass.”

Ben glowers at you, taking another aggressively large bite. “Bitch.” He grunts, and a piece of lettuce falls fully out of his mouth. Though you can feel his dirty look in your direction, you can also feel a spark of amusement run from where your knees are touching into your chest.

“Cunt.” You pick the lettuce off his lap and throw it into his face. “You eat like a squid too.”

“The only thing that me and squids have in common is our giant-“

“Okay!” Hughie shouts, pausing the video. “Soldier Boy, can you please not say something sexual for like, fuck, ten minutes?”

Ben doesn’t respond, invested completely in the burger, and you elbow him in the ribs.

He gives a loud cough, little bits of meat spurting out of his mouth. “What the fuck?!” When you incline your head to Hughie, Ben rolls his eyes and offers Hughie a grunted, “Fuckin hell- fine, you pussy.”

“Oh, ok.” Hughie blinks at Ben nervously before fumbling to unpause the video.

As the laptop catches up with the live feed, jumping to Firecracker bouncing over-excitedly around the now empty stage, Ben leans over you to get a good look at the screen.

“That’s her?”

“Yep.” You give the screen a glare. “Crazy brown-nosing bitch.”

Hughie lets out a noise of agreement, and Ben snorts. After another minute, in which Firecracker manages to say a record twenty-two objectively wrong things in a row, Ben grunts in annoyance.

“When I was at Vought, we had real goddamn talent, not whatever the fuck this is.”

“I know, in the 80s they managed to book a Pretty Boy squid who could kind of sing.”

Lettuce hits you in the face, and you let out a sputtering string of profanities.

“I can more than kind of sing, Sunshine. I have the voice of a goddamn angel. And that song didn’t make any fucking sense, I fucking blew it out of the fucking water- what the fucks so funny?”

“Nothing!” You try and smother the giggles that had built in you as he’d devolved into rambling ire. “You’re way angrier about this than I thought you’d be.”

“I’m not fucking angry-“

“I can feel it, Ben.” You press your leg further against his in reminder. “And even if I couldn’t, you just said ‘fuck’ so many times.”

“I’m not a damn pussy, I’ll swear as much as I fucking please-“ Ben falters slightly as the word slips out once more, and you grin at him.

“When you’re angry, every other word out of your mouth is ‘fuck’. It’s actually really funny.“

“I’m glad it’s amusing for you.” He’s glaring at you, but you can feel the rapid ebbing of his anger through your body.

“It is.” You shrug, and attempt an olive branch. “So was the Rapture video. I used to watch it all the time.”

“Really?” At your words, he’s suddenly giving a toothy, egotistical grin. “What, did you have a crush on me?”

“No,” You mirror his grin, even as you feel your cheeks heat and hear your sister’s teasing in your ear. “It was just really funny.”

He scoffs. “Like you could’ve done it any damn better.”

“Oh, I know I couldn’t have. I sing like a horse who chain smokes.” The lie slips through your teeth with practiced ease. “But nobody would be paying me whatever digusting amout they payed you.”

"Joke's on you, Sunshine. I bought a house with that money."

"Hm," you give him a toothy smile. "I think that makes the joke on Vought."

“I liked your dancing,” Hughie offers weakly. “It was… interesting.”

“See, Cocksucker gets it.” Ben says smugly, giving you a nudge as his attention refocuses on the video.

“That’s, that’s not my name…” Hughie sighs, and you offer him an apologetic, close-lipped smile.

Still leaning over you, Ben takes another bite of the burger as he watches Firecracker. “She’s got good tits,” he observes, and you tilt your head to look at him incredulously. “What?! She does!”

“You didn’t even last,” you look at the clock on Hughie’s laptop. “Five minutes.”

“That’s bullshit, I always last more than five minutes- Hey!”

You manage to fit the entire remaining burger into your mouth a once, chewing frantically before he can try and take it back from you. You give him a smug look. I warned you, Pretty Boy.

He narrows his eyes at you. I’ll make you fucking regret that, Sunshine.

You swallow, his promise of regret already catching up to you from the large bite as the food aches down your throat, and push Ben until he’s fully in his seat. “Her tits better not be nice enough that you decide to blow the mission.”

“Don’t worry, Sunshine, yours are better.” He ignores your venomous look. “And she’s with Homelander. Even the best fucking tits in the world couldn’t make up for choosing that pussy.” His eyes narrow at the screen. “I should just fucking go now, it’s been the same stupid shit for a damn hour.”

“No!” Hughie’s arm shoots out to hold him in his seat, before thinking better and pulling back just as fast. “No, they’re almost ready, please, can we just wait until they’re ready?”

Ben shoots you a look of questioning annoyance. I could just fucking go. Cocksucker couldn’t stop me, and we could all be fucking done and go home early.

No. We’re sticking to the plan. You glare back.

He rolls his eyes. Fucking stupid plan if it takes ten goddamn hours to set up.

You stick your tongue out at him, and turn back to Hughie. “Have they sent any updates? At least gotten the stage passes?”

“They aren’t supposed to check in for another three minutes.” Hughie shakes his head. “And MM’s still working on the stage passes. They’re $350 for some fucking reason.”

“I don’t need a stage pass.” Ben grumbles. “I could just walk in if you would give me the suit, none of those pussies would stop me.”

“The whole point is that you don’t have the suit. But…” You trail off, frowning to yourself. “Hughie, Ben might be right about the stage pass.”

Ben makes a satisfied “Ha!” as Hughie gives you a wide-eyed stare.

“But they can’t know he’s working with-“

“Butcher and Starlight, yeah, I know, it's my plan. But the whole idea is that he’s rogue. Soldier Boy, back from the dead once more, loose on the streets of Manhattan with no adult supervision.” You sweep your hand in a mock headline gesture, and pretend you can’t feel Ben’s indignance. “A real rogue hundred year old terrorist would not have a credit score that lets him buy Vought’s super-diamond-truther backstage pass.”

“So I can have my fucking suit-“

“No,” you snap, and Ben scowls. “That defeats the point even more than the stage pass. Your suit is known government property. It was being kept in a high-security warehouse in Florida. It would be really fucking suspicious if you were wearing it.”

“They were keeping my suit in Florida?!” Ben’s face coils in disgust. “Was my fucking shield in Florida too?! Fuck, is it still fucking there?! In goddamn, sweat-stained-“

“No, apparently Vought was keeping your shield in Ohio.”

“Fucking Ohio?!”

“This doesn’t really seem like it’s about the mission anymore,” Hughie says nervously.

“It’s not, it’s about you fucking dumbass cum guzzlers keeping my shit in goddamn Florida and Ohio- Fuck!”

You give Ben a warning glare, fingers still smoking, as he rubs his arm. “They survived it, and maybe if you put on your big boy pants you’ll manage to as well. Now-“ You turn to Hughie. “You should tell MM that we don’t need the stage pass before he spends a disgusting amount of money on it.”

As Hughie takes out his phone, closing his laptop and standing to cross the van for some semblance of privacy, Ben nudges you with a grunt of your name.

“I don’t like this.” He’s frowning at nothing in particular, and you can feel tight, solid concern through your body. “It’s too fucking public.”

You wrinkle your brow at him, eyes narrowing. “Since when do you give a shit how ‘public’ a mission is?”

“Since it’s a fucking liability. Too fucking public means too many fucking people that even I won’t be able to control.”

“That’s the point-“

“I fucking know ‘that’s the point’, Sunshine, you’ve made that real fucking clear.” Ben grunts, giving you an odd look as his tight feeling grows in your chest. “Doesn’t mean I have to like this fucking dumb plan.”

“Well,” you shrug. “I love it. It’s going to work, you’ll admit I’m a goddamn genius, and maybe Firecracker will start crying like a baby.”

Ben snorts, and a jab of his amusement hits you. But before he can make any snide comments, Hughie hangs up his call with MM and returns to where you and Ben are pressed against the wall of the van.

“Well, MM’s really not happy about it, but he agrees it’s smarter not to do the pass.” Hughie sighs. “And he says that Butcher’s on his way to get us. He should be here in five.”

You nod, turning to Ben with narrow eyes. “Repeat the plan to me.”

He rolls his eyes. “What, don’t you trust me, Sunshine?”

“To retain vital information about my plan that you’ve called ‘fucking stupid’ numerous times? Absolutely not.”

“It is fucking stupid.” He grunts.

You sigh. “Please, Ben. Humor me and pretend you give a shit for one minute.”

Ben’s leg tenses against yours, and something falters along your ribs. He scowls as he speaks in terse, clipped words.

“Get on the stage, make sure the cameras see me, neutralize that Firecracker broad, and beat her up, but don’t kill her for some fucking reason.” The last part is muttered resentfully, and you chose to pretend you don’t hear it.

“And then?” You prompt.

“Break the cameras, find you, and get back here.” He grumbles.

You nod in approval. “You have to make sure you break the cameras, Ben. Frenchie’s going to make sure that all the phones get fried, but you need to break the cameras. There can’t be any evidence you’re not working alone.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I fucking got it. Kill the bitch, break the cameras.”

“Do not kill Firecracker!” Hughie says frantically, giving you a desperate look and saying your name in a pleading tone. “Please don’t let him kill her.”

You elbow Ben in the gut as you respond. “He knows, he’s just being a fucking dick about it.”

“Fuck off, Sunshine,” he mutters. “And you should let me kill her. She’s not fucking innocent, she’s a goddamn lying bitch.”

“Nope. No killing her.” You say firmly, crossing your arms. “You only get to beat her up because we need to sell the whole ‘out for revenge’ narrative. That’s-“

“The point.” Ben finishes your sentence mockingly. “I fucking got it, Sunshine.”

You kick him again. “So prove it, Pretty Boy. No killing Firecracker.”

“What if she tries to attack me? I should be allowed to fucking defend myself-“

You snort. “Her power is being a dogshit human sparkler. Her attacking you would feel like this.” You poke Ben’s arm, and he frowns.

“I thought she was a fucking fire supe. Like you.”

“I mean, yeah. She technically is. But not all fire supes can have massive fucking horse cocks like mine.”

Hughie lets out a chocking sputter, and Ben rumbles a loud laugh that makes your stomach feel soft and warm. You’re saved from dwelling on how the feeling lingers, starting to spread through your body in time with an easy delighted, sensation that’s not yours, by the opening of the van door.

“Am I bloody interrupting something?” Butcher’s dry voice is raised over Ben’s laughter, an angry and wired frown across his face. “Or can we all stop jerking each other off and do our fuckin jobs?”

“Pull the damn stick out of your ass, Butcher.” Ben rolls his eyes. “We’re not the pussies who took a year to do recon on three fucking blocks.”

"Well, someone has to make sure you don’t blow your load all over a bunch of innocent civilians again.” Butcher sneers, and Ben’s fists curl at his sides.

“I have it under control, you fucking-“

“Butcher,” you interject, feeling something hot and bloody in Ben’s chest start to grow. “We’re ready?”

Not taking his eyes off of Ben, Butcher grunts. “We’ve been ready, Love. We’re just waiting on you bloody cunts.”

“Then let’s go.” You start to stand but have barely moved from your seat when Ben’s hands are on you, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ben glares at you, and you feel that weird, tight concern along your skin again.

“On the mission, dumbass.” You snap, trying to pry his grip off of your thigh.

“No.” His hand doesn’t move, and the tight feeling grows. “Too fucking risky.”

“It’s my plan, Ben. Did you seriously think I was going to stay in the fucking van?”

He ignores you, turning to where Hughie and Butcher are watching the exchange, Hughie wide-eyed and Butcher scowling impatiently. “Tell her she’s fucking staying here with Cocksucker.”

“No can do, Mate. She goes where you go.” Butcher gives Ben a mocking grin, and another weird feeling writhes in your—Ben’s—gut.

“We’re right in front of fucking Vought, there’s going to be a shit ton of cameras-Fucking hell!” Ben’s hand jerks off of you, smoking and red.

“I’m a grown ass woman, Ben.” You hiss. “I know what I’m walking into, and I know what the risks are. And seeing as you somehow forgot, I’m in charge of you. I go where you go, and that’s not up for fucking debate. I can, I will handle my goddamn self.”

“Trust me, Sunshine, I know you can.” He says, facing his still-raw palm to you. “Doesn’t mean you have to fucking risk yourself for this bullshit-“

“It’s my fucking job!” You burst out. “The whole ‘find me’ part of the plan requires me to be in the fucking crowd, not sitting on my ass with Hughie!”

“What if fucking Homelander’s there? Then what?”

A painful ardor kicks up in your lungs. “He won’t be.”

“You fucking sure about that?” Ben’s voice is dripping with unconvinced cynicism.

“Why are you being so weird about this? It’s not like-“

Butcher gives an overdramatic cough over your words. “Oi, Bonnie and Clyde. I’d let you two fuck it out, but we’re on a bloody tight schedule. She’s coming, that’s that. Now get off your arses and let’s fucking move.”

“Shut the fuck up, you pussy. We’re not done with our fucking conversation.”

“Yes, we are.” You stand up, walking across the van. “Hughie, wait a bit until we’re out of the alley, then send Ben out. Ben,” you raise your hand, dropping fingers one by one as you run through the plan. “Get on stage, blast Firecracker, give her a few light punches, break the cameras, and find me. No casualties.”

“Maybe sprout some anti-patriot shit as well, Gov.” Butcher adds. “Really bloody sell it.”

You shake your head, giving Butcher an exasperated look. “No, we don’t know what Firecracker might say. What Homelander and Sage have told her. In, violent, and out. That’s it.”

You look back at Ben with a steel gaze, to find a glower of his face you’ve never seen before. His whole body is rigid, jaw clenched, mouth in a dropped scowl as his eyes burn through you. He’s looking at you in a way you aren’t able to read, but you feel like he wants you to. Everything about his face screams that you should be able to understand it, but you can’t.

“You’re, you're leaving me here with him?” Hughie’s voice is unsteady, and when you remove your eyes from Ben you find his face has grown pale.

“It’s only a few bleedin’ seconds, Lass. He don’t bite, don’t he?” Butcher gives Ben a cocky smirk.

“Fucking watch yourself, Butcher, I’ll crack your weak fucking skull and not break a sweat.” Ben snarls, eyes still on you.

Butcher scoffs, a taunting jeer in his voice. "No, you won’t. You don’t want to upset Sunshine.”

Ben’s eyes rip from you as he stands up at a freighting speed, body tense and fists clenched as he reaches his full height. For a second, you think you might have to interfere and prevent Butcher’s life from finding a brutal and inconvenient end in the alleyway, but Ben just gives him a violent, twisted growl.

“Count your fucking blessings that I have a job to do, you pussy. And sleep with one fucking eye open, because once this is over, I’m going to drown you in your own blood.”

Butcher gives him a mocking wink and turns to walk down the alley, leaving you scramble after him.

Before you’re fully out of the van, you turn and give Ben one last look. “No casualties.” You say, and almost against your will, your face draws into a look of and stay safe.

You don’t have time to read his face before you jog after Butcher, but the last thing you see of Ben is his arms still braced at his side, his eyes on yours with an almost feral look.

You catch up to Butcher right at the end of the ally, running face-first into his arm when he holds it out, halted before stepping onto the main street.

“Fucking ow, Butcher.” You rub your face where you’d collided, and over your fingers you barely have time to register the Noir baseball cap and jacket flying at your face, managing to catch them against your chest at the last second.

“Put them on.” Butcher says, and looking over the merchandise you see him leaning out the ally, watching the flowing crowds of pedestrians. People clad in red and blue Firecracker costumes and costume adjacect outfits, a few less in dark greens and Deep trademarked Love the Ocean like the Earth and Fish and Man are One shirts, and exactly one, a bouncing little girl with a tutu and big eyes, wearing a Homelander cape.

You look back down at the cap and jacket—which is a few sizes too big—and realize both were made by Uought International, and that Noir has been spelled as Noire. Looking up, you see that Butcher has pulled a Quen Maeve sweatshirt over his shirt, and is wearing green-tinted sunglasses that have little, blue Soldier Boy brand symbols along the frame.

“You shouldn’t wear those,” you point to your nose, mirroring where the sunglasses sit on Butcher’s face.

“Why, Love, you want them so you can feel close to Ben?” He mocks, and you roll your eyes.

“No, dumbass. Right now Soldier Boy is a dead American traitor who’s going to rise from the dead and commit an act of terrorism in like, seven minutes. It’s not smart to wear anything associated with him to ‘blend in’, especially if you’re pairing it with an off brand shirt of the woman who sacrificed herself to save the world from him.”

“You know just as bloody as well as me that Maeve is picking dandelions in California.”

“Yeah, and Soldier Boy isn’t dead, he’s in the van, probably trying to blackmail Hughie into buying him drugs. The internet is a liar sometimes.”

Butcher pulls off the sunglasses with a scowl and a dirty look in your direction before dropping them on your Noire jacket. “Put on your clothes so we can get a fucking move on. We wanna get outta here before Soldier Boy sees you and carries you back to the bloody van.”

You wrinkle your nose at him and pretend you don’t hear the questioning contempt of his voice, shoving the sunglasses into your back pocket before you pull on the jacket. You give Butcher a nod and step out into the current of the street.

The walk to Firecracker’s stage is silent, both you and Butcher angling your heads down from the crowd, down from the blue, cloudless sky and anyone who may be in it. The sun beats down a warmth that is only offset by the biting of the wind, and Firecracker’s voice, projected by speakers to carry over the horns and shouts of the city, starts to claw into your head.

“Patriots, are you ready to know the truth about Starlight and how she’s been kidnapping and trafficking your innocent babies?!” Her voice has the same southern drawl you’ve heard on TV, her bubbly tone in stark contrast to her words. “We’re lucky we have Homelander lookin out for us, keepin us safe, otherwise Starlight might try to take us too!”

You drop your head further, some fearful part of your brain telling you that Homelander might hear his name from the Tower and decide to make an appearance.

Fucking risky, Ben’s voice says in your head, and suddenly you can see him in your head, that strange, angered and piercing face watching you. What if fucking Homelander’s there, Sunshine? Then what? You’ll freeze up, and I won’t be there to help.

I’ll manage, you snap back at his voice, and can almost hear his scoff.

You’ll start crying and wish I was there. You wish I was there right now. You hate that you’re walking with Butcher, who’s probably going to try and kill you instead of me.

Butcher won’t kill me. He can’t.

Never stopped him from trying before. I wouldn’t let him, Sunshine.

I’m stronger than Butcher. I’m stronger than you. I’m stronger than fucking Homelander. I don’t need your help.

But you fucking want it.

“No, I don’t!” You hiss, and only realize you’ve spoken aloud when the words come out strained, caught on a lump that has formed in our throat.

You hear Butcher snort from your side. “Who the bloody hell are you talking to?”

“No one,” you mumble, feeling your face heat as you feel his disbelieving look.

“If you’re going to lose your damn mind and go all mental, you can wait until all this is done? Would be real bloody inconvenient to have to kill you ahead of schedule.”

“Not funny.” You mutter, and are saved from Butcher’s response by arriving at the crowd, stopping next to where MM watches the show in an A-Trane shirt.

“He behind you?” MM says by way of greeting, voice barely raised over the children’s choir rendition of God Bless the USA, complete with trumpet and string accompaniment.

“Should be,” Butcher looks over the heads of the audience, scanning for something that he doesn’t seem to find. “Frenchie gonna be ready when Soldier Boy gets here?”

“Kimiko got them up on a roof across the street, and Annie will get him the electricity he needs when it happens.”

You glance behind you, hoping that Hughie can manage to keep Ben in the van a few minutes more. “We should move,” you say, turning back to MM. “We don’t want to be anywhere near the path to the stage.”

MM nods and begins to lead you and Butcher deeper into the crowd, weaving through the frenzied cheers and whoops as the choir walks off the stage. You stop at the edge of the crowd, off to side enough to avoid any crossfire, but with Firecracker still in a clear line of sight.

She’s staring down the camera, her toothy and smug smile projected on a Jumbotron as she speaks. “I don’t know about y’all, but I think Starlight should come down here and tell us why! Why she won’t show us any proof of her claims that Homelander is a murderer! When, need I remind y’all, Homelander was found innocent! Has Starlight been found innocent?” You watch her cup her ear, listening for the crowds shouted responses.

“Jesus Christ, she has to know this is bullshit, right?” You mutter to yourself, and MM chuckles beside you.

“As far as I can tell, she really believes all the bullshit she’s saying.” He says with a shake of his head. “She got this job cause her head was up Homelander’s ass for free, she ain’t gonna pull it out now that Vought’s paying.”

You hum, looking up at the sky nervously. “MM, has Hughie texted that Ben-“

You’re cut off as screams sound from down the street, and your head shoots to where you had just stood, watching as the crowd beings to franticly part for something you can’t yet see. Butcher and MM are stiff beside you, Butcher’s gun already in his hand as MM’s lingers at his hip. Firecracker’s voice has faltered through the speakers, her eyes wide and face slack on the Jumbotron. The feeling in you, the ardor against your spine and clawing at your skin, begins, and you try not to watch the sky. The sun is bright and there are no city lights, the only thing you can hear is the terrified people, but Homelander’s not here, so you’ll be fine.

The feeling is in your blood and gut, but you’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

Are you sure about that? Ben’s voice says in your head.

Shut up. You tell it, just as Firecracker lets out a shrill sound that echos down the streets.

You look up and find Ben has gotten to the foot of the stage, only his side profile visible to you. Firecracker has a shaking finger pointing at him, her mouth agape as she watches him walk closer, closer, closer. You hadn’t been sure what to expect once it began. For Firecracker to scream, beg, cry, fight, run, or collapse once it became that her life was gone from her hands. Of all the scenarios you’d traced, all the outcomes with more blood, less blood, more scream or quick silence, you hadn’t thought she start to laugh. Doubled over, cackling glee, tears in her eyes visible on the Jumbotron.

“Well, look here, folks! No need to be afraid, it’s going to be just fine! Soldier Boy here’s a guest, and he’s going to tell us all about how Starlight tricked him and forced him to fake his death!”

You watch Ben freeze on stage, and the Jumbotron begins to broadcast his tight, angered face to the steadily regrouping audience.

“Fuck,” MM breathes out. “They’re going to flip him.”

Butcher says your name roughly. “You need to get there, get him in bloody line. We can’t have him running off with Vought.”

You need to move. Every part of you is screaming that you need to go, go, get there and remind Ben that you’re watching and keeping him in check. But you can’t, frozen as you watch his movements on the Jumbotron, trying to keep control when your blood has run cold, and every breath you take is caught against that lump in your throat. You can’t move, and all you can do is watch him on stage, eyes scanning the crowd as he watches them look at him in awe.

Then your falling forward, barely managing to catch your footing before your knees hit the pavement, turning to see MM on the phone speaking in a commanding, measured tone, and Butcher reaching forward to push you once more. You take another, smoother step back before he can, but you don’t wait for him to bark an order for you to go. You turn back to the crowd with the bass of the speakers barely drowning feeling, trying to weave without touching anyone as it grows and grows.

You’re at the base of the stage now, and before you can start to figure out a subtle way to alert him, his eyes lock with yours.

What the fuck is happening. His gaze asks at it runs through you, his body turned as though he may start to move in your direction, and Firecracker's voice rings the air.

“Lovely, you brought her too!” Both you and Ben turn to where she stands, smiling and looking at you. “Our very special guest, The Anomaly!”

Your blood isn’t cold. It’s burning, everything is burning inside of you, scraping to get out. But there are people moving around you now, people everywhere, and someone is nudging you forwards to the stage until a smiling face is pulling you up and moving you right next to Ben. It’s so bright, and you’re burning, and when you turn your head out to the crowd, you see yourself. Up on the Jumbotron. And there are cameras. Cameras everywhere. Cameras that are following your movements as Firecracker speaks.

“I know ya’ll don’t recognize her, she hasn’t been around for as long as this patriot!” Your eyes tear from the screen just in time to see Firecracker playfully slap Ben’s arm, to watch his whole body go rigid as she did. “But she’s a real good friend, and she and Homelander go way back!”

You’re cold again. Cold and angry and sharp. Everything is sharp again, the faces of the audience are clear, and Firecracker’s words are no longer miles away. No, she’s right in front of you with a wide smile of teeth, and you can hear drums.

Drums.

You look down, and your foot is bumped against Ben’s. His eyes aren’t watching you anymore, fixed on Firecracker, but everything sharp in him, in you, is pointed at her.

“If fact,” Firecracker has turned back to the crowd, hands placed over her heart with a simpering face. “She and Homelander? Well they were childhood sweethearts! Supes, raised together, only having each other. And when Homelander went off to become our great hero, she stepped away from the spotlight.” Firecracker takes a large step back, turning back to you. “She didn’t want the fame. She just wanted him!”

A chorus of sickly sweet awwws ripples through the crowd, and the feeling is behind your eyes.

“Homelander was, is, the love of her life. Which is why, when Starlight and her team of devil-worshippers came to kill her, The Anomaly fought with all she had to stop them.”

It’s under your nails.

“She wasn’t strong enough, though, and they dragged her away from where Homelander had been keeping her safe to let her bleed out, far away from the man she loved.”

It’s on your teeth.

“Love that kept her alive, love that made her find another who had been wronged, another who would do anything for Homelander-“

Firecracker makes a gesturing sweep to Ben, and the world begins to blur.

“Soldier Boy! And now they’re here, to reunite with their lover, their son, and have the happy endings they deserve!”

The feeling is everywhere. Ben is pressed closely against you, and the drums are in your ribs. Firecracker is still smiling and her teeth are so white. The crowd is cheering and whooping and you’re going to crack-

Something smashes off the stage, and Firecracker’s smile drops. You make yourself follow her gaze, the movement like moving through mud, and see smashed cameras at MM’s feet. Gunshots ring out, and something above you shatters as Butcher appears, gun raised.

Firecracker’s face has contorted, cheery persona vaporized and she starts to shout in a furious wail.

“No! My cameras! My show- Do you have any idea how hard that speech was to memorize?! I worked so hard, and you ruined it you fucking-“

She flys across the stage, Ben taking large, violent strides to where she lands with a crack. You can see her fear when she looks up to where he stops above her, the light growing in his chest.

“Help!” She screams, looking around at the stage audience and tech workers. “He’s- he’s fucking crazy, he’s going to kill me! Someone- someone fucking stop him!”

The stage audience.

The tech workers.

You’re running. Words aren’t fast enough, and Ben’s too far gone for them anyway. You are, though. You’re flying, tearing across the stage and throwing yourself against Ben. He falls to the ground, the light still building, and twists to try and throw you off of him, his eyes so deep into himself you don’t think he knows it’s you.

Pressed against him, you can only feel the drums, and you brace yourself as the light in him explodes.

It’s painful. A blinding and unforgiving pain that sears through your body. Numbness follows behind it though, fast and empty relief, and when your eyes can see once more Ben is watching you with horror across every feature.

He looks like he’s going to roar at you, tear into and across you. You can feel fury and something deep into his chest that’s screaming.

Firecracker lets out a breathy, sobbing laugh from somewhere to your side, and even if nothing in him wavers, it saves you from whatever Ben was going to say.

“Shit, you're both pathetic. You can’t even take out one person?” Firecracker starts to pull herself up to her feet. “I don’t know why Homelander was so worried about y’all. You’re weak.” She reaches down, grabbing the back of your tattered Noire jacket and pulling you off of Ben. “I mean, I expected more from at least you, Soldier Boy. He looks up to you still, you know. Was so hopeful you’d flip. But,” she shakes her head sadly. “What a disappointment.”

You’re not sure how it happens, let alone where the energy comes from, but you twist in Firecracker’s hold and punch her square in the face. She drops her hold, stumbling back as her nose starts to fill with blood. You never hit the floor though, Ben’s arm looping around your waist as he draws himself upwards.

Everything is sharp and hungry anger that is driving in you—in Ben—to Firecracker. The thing in his chest is still clawing at him, and you can feel your own glacial fervor, but nothing is as strong as the hungry anger.

Firecracker doesn’t feel it though, the storm that's brewing. And she doesn’t know when to quit.

“You worthless bitch.” She sneers through her fingers, trying to plug the blood. “You frigid little whore.”

“Watch it.” Ben growls, arm tensing around your waist.

“Oh, fuck off, you fossil! She’s tricking you, sinking her little claws into her like she did Homelander, with her stupid little songs and dances!”

“Shut up,” the words don’t come out in the firm command you wanted. Your voice sounds pathetic, weak against your ears.

“Do you have any idea how fucking exhausting you’ve been?” Firecracker whines. “Everything was amazing until you came back. He was starting to trust me! And then Sage comes back, accuses Homelander of lyin to her, and says you’re alive. And all of a sudden that’s all that fucking matters! He’s just angry and hurt and it’s so annoying.”

The world is less focused.

“I’ve heard Moon River so many fucking times this week, it makes my skin fucking crawl. I don’t even get it! What can you do that I can’t? I want him, you don’t even care to stick around-“

Nothing is in focus. It’s only Firecracker, her voice, and the feeling.

“I love him, I am perfect for him, I am blessed and chosen and you’re just a lonely little stuck up slut who didn’t even wait after leaving him and everything he did for you-“

Her teeth are so white and you don't think you can breathe.

“Everything he gave you-“

You can feel ghosts of the pain, see the bright light as they push the fire into you. Can feel it now, trying to get out.

“To turn around and spread your fucking whore legs!”

Something in you snaps. Cracks, echoes through your body, and explodes. You’re everywhere, the fire bleeding from you. You can’t see anything but the white room around you, and you have to get out. So you let everything go. It’s just you and the fire, cocooning around you and keeping you safe.

Just you and the fire and something else that is gripping around you. Something in your chest that is thrashing and trying to keep you close. It feels safe too, so you let it stay as everything else continues to burn.

A deep, roaring voice is calling your name. It sounds like the thing in your chest, and it reverberates through you as if it’s pressed against you. There are screams too, broken and raw screams, but you can’t see where they’re coming from, and they don’t feel safe like the voice.

The thing gripping around you feels heavier. It feels safer. There’s no city lights, you can’t even really remember what they might look like, but there’s music. Soft and deep in your ear, wrapping around you. Putting something out along your skin. You’re getting weak, and you feel cold.

You can’t stop. Something in your head tells you. You falter, and you’re back in the room.

But you’re so tired. The grip feels safe. And the music is settling into you and feels so good.

So when the world goes black, the last thing you feel is the thing in your chest reaching for you, and you could swear it breathes in relief.

————

He’d figured it out. The tapping. Firecracker had said Moon River, and he’d realized that was it. The rhythm of the verses matched that incessant tapping of Hers perfectly. He’d taken a fucking gamble, dragging the verses from somewhere deep in his brain as she’d been consumed by the fire, and it had paid off when She’d collapsed into him. The fire still lingered long after She closed her eyes, long after Ben stopped humming. Most of the stage was ash, from the hollowed, disgusting bodies of Firecracker and a few unfortunate audience members to the still flaming stage curtains.

Ben picked her up, and her eyes didn’t even flutter. Her body was still burning, and his hands protested in pain against her skin, but he bit down his pain with ease. Ben wasn’t a pussy, and he’d heal. This was more important.

A thought that had everything in him—except the feeling he’d been keeping in his gut that had somehow managed to crawl into his chest—very fucking irritated.

Ben turned, carrying Her off the stage to get her as far away from here as possible, only to find both MM and Butcher waiting, guns pointed right at his face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled. They didn’t have any fucking time for these dramatics. As far as he fucking understood from Her explanations, all that shit show had just been broadcast through the fucking nation. Homelander was probably on his way, and Ben wouldn’t be able to do his fucking job and wipe the floor with that pussy if She was still unconscious and the stupid fucking thing in his chest was worried.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Gov.” Butcher jeered back. “We’re not letting you off that bloody easy.”

Ben glowered at him, and his desire to throw Butcher against the nearest concrete wall was only barely defeated by the godforsaken need to get Her somewhere safe. “We don’t have fucking time for this. Move out of my fucking way, or I’ll make you.”

“Take your best fucking shot, cunt.” Butcher taunted.

“Last fucking chance to get out of my way.” Ben could hear the hitch in both their hearts, uneven from the growing steadiness in Hers.

“We ain’t moving, Soldier Boy.” MM angled his gun higher. “And you’re not taking her.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you fucking pussies!” Ben roared, whatever patience he’d managed to hold onto vanished. “Homelander is probably on his fucking way, and unless you want him to take her, we need to fucking leave right fucking now!”

Both men blink, Ben’s words hanging in the air just long enough that he was starting to get ready to just fucking push through them. He’d deal with Her anger about it later, when she was awake and they were far fucking away from cages and boxes.

But MM lowered his gun, narrowing his eyes at Ben. “You’re going to let us take you back to the safe house?” His voice had a tone of disbelief that Ben didn’t fucking appreciate.

“Fucking hell, yes. Now fucking move your dumb fucking asses before I change my fucking mind!”

MM looked over at Butcher, whose gun was still aimed at Ben’s head. “The kid’s bringing the van round?”

“He bloody should be.“ Butcher grunted, but didn’t move. “But that don’t mean shit, I ain’t trusting this cunt to go quietly.”

“I’m certainly not going to go quietly if you keep a fucking gun in my face.” Ben sneered. “I might not do jackshit to me, but it’s goddamn rude when I’m trying to fucking help.”

“Why should we trust that?” MM asked coldly, glancing down at Her in Ben’s arms. “This is your ticket out. You’re probably just going to kill us in the van while she’s still out.”

Ben fucking knew that, he wasn’t an fucking idiot. He could hear Her heartbeat, fully steady as sleep held her under, could feel the scalding heat of her body almost fully faded. When he glanced down at her face, it painted into an empty ease. But when he blinked, it would flash back to just before she’d burst. Afraid. Only pure terror on Her face as Firecracker screamed about Homelander.

She wasn’t going back there.

“I guess you’re going to have to take a fucking gamble.” Ben held MM’s stare. “Because you have five seconds to fucking move before I kill both you pussies and leave with her.”

Some part of Ben still managed to be surprised when they exchanged one last, tense look, MM’s eyes flaring at Butcher, who dropped his gun with an angry huff. When MM started to walk away, likely to where Cocksucker waited with the van, and Butcher only said, “Breathe one wrong breath, Soldier Boy, and I’ll put you right back under.”

Ben wanted to. He wanted to step just far out enough of line that he’d be justified in bashing Butcher’s smug, pussy fucking head against the curb. But he didn’t, just keeping Her in place against him until they were back at the safe house, glaring at the whole sorry fucking lot of Her team as they watched Ben hold Her in the corner. Her heartbeat stayed steady, and it kept the drum in him from bursting, aided by the thing in his chest settling back into him the more distance grew between Her and the stage, Vought Tower, and Homelander.

When they reached the safe house, Ben didn’t bother to pause, waiting only for Butcher to open the door, before he was moving through the hall in tight, bounding steps. Up the stairs, shoving the door to Her room open, laying her on the bed above her sheets. She let out a little sigh as he let her go, and Ben hated how it made the thing in his chest wake up. He had to get himself under fucking control. She was safe, he’d done what he fucking needed to, and he wasn’t about to be a goddamn creep and watch her sleep.

The seconds were starting to stretch though, as he watched Her, listened to the steady sound of her heart. She looked so fucking peaceful, and it was calming the thing in his chest.

Fuck, he didn’t like how easy it felt. Especially as she let out another small sigh, rolling over with an arm stretching out, and he wanted to touch her upturned palm. That realization snapped him out of whatever stupid fucking trance he’d been dragged into, and he managed to turn, walking towards the door.

Before he left though—practically against his will—he turned back just in time to hear another sigh and see Her body curl into the mattress.

“Sleep well, Sunshine.” He muttered and tried to ignore the last sigh released from her chest, and how if ran through him.

When Ben got down to the kitchen, goddamn fucking Cocksucker and Starlight were waiting for him.

“What are you cum guzzlers still fucking doing here?” He grumbled, pushing past them to get to the pantry.

“Is she ok?” Cocksucker asked, and Ben shrugged, grabbing a bag of half-eaten jerky from the top shelf.

“She’ll fucking live.” He ignored the flash of Her fearful face in his head, and how his grip on the bag turned to steel. “One of you better answer my goddamn question.”

“We need to talk to her,” Starlight said softly.

“Don’t hold your fucking breath, she’s out cold.” Ben snapped.

Starlight sighed. “We’ll wait.”

“No, you won’t.” Ben turned around to face her. “She needs to fucking rest.”

“Cocksucker look between Starlight and Ben nervously. “We need to make sure-“

“She did you a fucking favor.” Ben growled. “Firecracker’s not a problem anymore, and her stupid plan fucking worked.”

“She killed four people.” Starlight said tightly. “And after Ashley, we need to know that she’s still with us.”

“With you?” Ben scoffed, saying Her name in the same exasperated tone. “Her? You think she’s going to turn against you fucking pussies?”

“She’s- she’s been weird.” Cocksucker stuttered. “And you’ve gotten closer than we thought-“

“Fuck off.” Ben snorted. “I haven’t turned her, if that’s what your dumb little pea-brains think.”

“We’re not who you have to convince, Soldier Boy.” Starlight watched Ben with a frown. “I trust her. Hughie trusts her.”

“Then what the fuck-“

“Butcher,” Cocksucker said softly. “MM. Mallory. They’re worried she’s going to be a liability.”

“Then they can come fucking tell me their fucking selves.” Ben hissed. “Now get the fuck out.”

Starlight looked like she was going to push back, and Ben was ready to throw her through the door himself, but Cocksucker placed his hand on her back, and something passed silently between them.

“Fine,” Starlight sighed, giving Ben one last, tired look. “If you promise to tell us when she’s awake, I can try and hold them off.” Her eyes narrowed. “For her.”

Ben grunted. “Deal.”

And they were gone, and Ben was alone in the kitchen.

She didn’t wake up for three full days. Three, long, insufferably quiet days where it was just Ben. Three days of pacing, of eating alone, of watching TV all through the damn night because he couldn’t sleep even if he fucking tried. Three days of the awful thing in his chest making up stupid excuse to open the door to her room and check to see if she had vanished. She never had, she would always be twisted on the bed, heart steady, face empty. At some point Ben moved Her under the covers, after he made up an excuse to touch her and found her not burning like he’d been checking for, but freezing cold. Three long days of wishing She was awake, reminding himself he didn’t fucking need Her awake, and the thing in his chest roaring that he did.

He tried to push it down, and almost succeeded, but at the end of the second day he walked downstairs from where he’d been standing outside her door for a disgustingly long time—finally managing to not push in and check on her—to find Butcher in the living room.

“She’s still out.” Ben had grunted, and Butcher had only shrugged.

“I ain’t here for her. We need to have a little chat.”

“I’m good.”

“I wasn’t bloody asking.”

Ben remembered wondering in the moment if he was already in enough hot water that killing Butcher wouldn’t really matter. “You’re playing a game you can’t fucking win.” He’d warned, and even Butcher’s heart hadn’t stuttered.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a flash, Gov. But not until you fucking listen.” Butcher managed to have more intelligence than Ben thought him capable of, and didn’t wait to hear Ben’s answer before he began. “Her plan, somehow, bloody worked. Most of the media coverage is sayin that Firecracker started panicking and lying to try and keep herself alive. You’re being label as a crazed lunatic, out for revenge.”

“Then what’s the fucking problem-“

“Her. Everyone’s buying the story about Her and Homelander, thinkin you kidnapped her after we tried to kill her.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t even make any fucking sense.”

“Don’t need to make sense. It’s the narrative Vought got, and they’re running with it. As far as the public knows, you’re back, out for bloody and evil revenge, and are holding her hostage to hurt Homelander.” Butcher narrowed his eyes at Ben. “And they’ve reached out. They want to meet with you.”

“They?” Ben paused, ready to grab Butcher’s tongue and make him stop talking in fucking riddles. “Who the fuck is they?”

“Vought.” Butcher said shortly. “Sage. Homelander.”

Ben snorted. “Fuck no. We’re not bringing her anywhere near that goddamn pussy and his conniving bitch.”

“Good thing they only want to talk to you, then, ain’t it.”

That made Ben pause, eyes narrowing at Butcher as suspicion had begun to build in his chest. “The fuck are you talking about.”

“One hour, a truce, just you, me, Starlight, Homelander, and Sage. At the old Starlight Fund building. Just talking.”

Ben snorted. “You dumb enough to believe that?”

“Nope. But you agree, it happens.”

Ben grunted. He didn’t trust any of it. He didn’t trust Homelander to have no ulterior motive. He didn’t trust Sage to not be plotting something. He didn’t trust Butcher to not have a fucking trick up his stupid fucking Hawaiian shirt. “And if don’t.”

Butcher shrugged. “Then this conversation never happened.”

Ben had said your name carefully, trying to feel out whatever it was he fucking knew Butcher was hiding. “What about her?”

“She’d stay here.”

Ben raised his brows at that. “You’d trust me without her?”

“Fucking hell, no. Not if hell bloody froze over. Don’t trust you with her. We’d set up something to make you go night-night if you get all nuclear. CIA got more than enough gas to put you under, they can spare some for our lovely uses.”

“How long does the offer stand?” Ben asked, pushing down the drum.

Butcher had shrugged. “Until you give an answer.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ben said. “Now get the fuck out.”

Butcher chuckled dryly. “Alright, Gov. Keep your damn pants on.” As Butcher walked, hands in pockets, down the hall, he paused as he passed Ben, and shoved something into his hands. “She dropped those on her way to the stage. Good luck when she wakes up, Mate. I’d keep her away from the telly.”

Ben had looked down at what Butcher had given him as the man walked away, brow furrowing at what he found.

Shitty, off-brand Soldier Boy sunglasses.

Ben had placed them in his room to give to Her later. But another full day had passed before she woke up, and Ben’s mind had not stilled the whole fucking time.

He hadn’t been lying. Ben thought about Butcher’s—Homelander’s—offer. Constantly. Starting with the fact that he didn’t have a goddamn thing to say to Homelander. The shock of their relation had long passed, fading into a numbness of just another fucking job for Ben to do, just another way in which he had to be alone. Then the numbness had been replaced by a blinding wrath. A disgust from what he had done. Ben wasn’t a saint, saints were weak, self-righteous whiners. But he wasn’t a fucking monster. He did what had to be done, and a little more to make sure he didn’t have to do it again. He didn’t take women and lock them in cages. He didn’t hurt people until the singular thought of him made them afraid. People fear Ben, yes. But just as much as they should.

Ben didn’t fear Homelander. She didn’t fear Ben. But She feared Homelander. A weak, fucking pathetic man who had needed to break someone stronger than him, someone worth more than him powerless, to feel big. She was worth so much more than Homelander that she wanted to help people. Worth so much more that she still somehow looked at the world and found it worth something. She found worth in fucking everything. Everything was amusing to Her, everything was beautiful, everything had value and meaning. Ben fucking hated it. It leaked into him, and felt fucking strange. Because he could hear Her in his head, saying Pretty Boy, this is an opportunity. Don’t be a petty baby and waste it.

And that was where the thoughts would loop. Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Homelander had hurt Her and Ben never would. She’d find a way to use this, though, and She’d want him to go. But Ben didn’t want to talk to Homelander. Over and over until Ben heard Her heartbeat stutter, heard shuffling around in Her room, and had to fight the thing roaring in his chest to sprint up the stairs. He somehow managed to remain seated on the couch, everything in him fucking strained to stay in place as she tapped down the stairs and cleared her throat behind him.

Ben turned to find Her watching him with eyes still crusted from sleep. When She spoke, her voice was hoarse, and her words were quiet.

“How long was I out?”

“Few days.” Ben answered, trying to watch her passively, to pretend he wasn’t studying her every feature. He wasn’t even fucking sure what he was looking for himself.

“What-“ She took a deep breath. “What happened?”

Ben paused, finding her eyes again. Keep her away from the telly, Butcher had said, and Ben had immediately checked to see what the fuck he was talking about. He’d found the answer fast: photos of Firecracker’s scorched body, interviews with the families of the audience members who had met the same fate. Speculation about what Ben was doing to Her, fabricated “evidence” of Her and Homelander’s love. A complete, well-developed, entirely bullshit story about her life. Born in the same hometown as Homelander, happily giving up her life to support him, working instead behind the scenes in Vought marketing and cooking in her free time.

Homelander didn’t have a hometown, that pussies whole story was even more bullshit Vought propaganda than Ben’s was.

She wouldn’t “give up her life” to support anyone. And if she did, they’d have to hear her bitch about it until they fucking died.

Ben had once heard her call marketing “a plague upon human culture and societal development” during the third commercial break of one of his football games.

Everyone would know if She had tried to cook Homelander food, because it would’ve killed him.

Butcher had wanted Ben to lie. But Ben fucking knew She wouldn’t have lied to him. And he knew She would find out the truth somehow and be a real bitch about Ben lying to her.

“Three audience members and Firecracker died. You passed out. We got back here.”

“Oh,” she said softly, but didn’t look away, and Ben could see something fragile in her eyes fracture. Hear the taps of Moon River begin. “What are they saying?”

“They?”

“Vought.”

“Your plan worked.” Ben grunted, and the rhythm of Her heart told him she knew there was more. “But Firecracker’s bullshit stuck. I’m being painted as a revenge-blind maniac, and you’re being painted as my victim.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “If anything, you’re my victim.”

Ben felt his mouth twitch. “That’s what I keep fucking saying.”

She let out another, smaller huff of amusement before her face fell back into that soft state, her eyes still tired as she watched him. “That’s all?”

He nodded. “That’s all.”

She gave one last sigh, and it sounded so weak. He wanted to grab her and figure out a way to make her move. Get her to sit next to him and laugh so the fucking thing in his chest would let go of his lungs. Before he could, though, she turned and padded back up the stairs, her door closing behind her.

Another day passed before Ben even fucking saw her again. She’d slunk into the kitchen around dinner, hair tangled and eyes hollow, heating up a box-meal before placing it on a plate and carrying it back upstairs. The next day was the same, and Ben had tried to grab her and make her fucking talk to him, and she'd stared at him with a wide, empty gaze.

“We need to fucking talk.” He’d grunted.

“Please don’t.” Her voice had been so fucking quiet.

“Don’t what?” He’d growled. “Fucking talk to you? You’re just going to never fucking talk to me again?”

She’d given a small shake of her head. “I don’t want to talk. Please.”

“You’re being fucking weird.”

“Please.” She’d sounded desperate. “I can’t talk. Please.”

He’d never heard her say please so many times. He’d only seen her like this, a weak and fearful girl, once.

He’d hated it on the Neuman mission. He hated it now.

He hated she looked weaker now. Hopeless. He hated how he relented, let go of her, and she’d gone back upstairs and didn’t come back down. Two more days passed, and the only way Ben knew she was alive was the sounds of music coming from her room and the food that vanished from the kitchen overnight.

Ben was going to lose his fucking mind. The last time she’d avoided him this much had been the beginning, and, fuck, that had been better than this. She’s seen him and fought with him, tearing him to pieces as he did the same to her. Stood her fucking ground against him, a completely insufferable, violent, angry bitch of a woman. Even after they’d called truce on their war, she’d remained a powerfully wrathful, unrelenting pain in Ben’s ass. Now she wouldn’t stand in the same fucking room as him, and he was going to go fucking insane.

So, on the fifth day, Ben banged down her door, ready to demand she fucking tell him who to kill to fix this.

He found her curled in her bed, staring far ahead into nothing. Something hit his nose that he forced himself to ignore, and she didn’t even move as he pushed into the room.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked gruffly. She didn’t answer, so he said her name roughly. “What’s fucking wrong with you?”

“Why did you do it?” Her voice was light—frail—as she stared ahead.

“Do fucking what?”

She finally looked at him. “Why did you go back, with Sage, why did you fucking do that?”

“I saved your life, Sunshine. And you never even fucking thanked me.” Ben knew his words were cruel, shooting to hurt Her. But maybe she’d fucking fight him. Fucking do something that wasn’t just fucking sitting there.

“You should’ve left me.” She whispered, Ben rolled his eyes, and her voice raised. Not to a scream, but a high-pitched, frantic tone of desperation. “You should’ve! You should’ve left me and run! You could’ve been free, why did you do that! Why! You should’ve just fucking left me!”

This was worse, Ben knew. So much fucking worse. “Why are you being so fucking dramatic-“

“You should’ve left me to die!” She screamed. “You should’ve just left me to die! Why didn’t you just let me fucking die?!”

Ben stared at Her as she started to cry, shaking on the bed, trying to push herself further back into its frame. She’d tucked her head into her arms, sobs wracking through her whole body as she held herself, fingers digging into her skin. No smoke was rising, no tapping or chewing, just Her tears falling as she let out another, broken scream. Ben was frozen, he didn’t know how to fucking deal with this. Fuck, he barely knew how to deal with Her when she wasn’t breaking down in front of him.

Through sobs, Ben heard Her say it again. “It would be better if you had just let me die.”

Ben didn’t need the thing in his chest to tell him to move. He crossed the room in two long steps, dropping on the bed next Her.

“Look at me.” She didn’t, so Ben grabbed her wrists and pulled them down. “Sunshine, fucking look at me.”

She glanced down at where he still held her and blinked, letting out a stuttered breath. Her voice was still so weak when she spoke, “What?”

“Fucking look at me.” He growled one last time, and she finally did, her eyes still so empty. “You’re being fucking stupid.”

She gaped at him, disbelief finally filling her expression. It wasn’t the amusement or rage Ben wanted back, but it was something.

“What?’

“You’re being a goddamn idiot. Things would…” The words vomited out of him. “Be a lot fucking worse if you were dead.”

She shook her head, the hopeless looking creeping back. “I killed four people, they’d still be alive-“

"Maybe.” Ben grunted. “Maybe not. But they, along with a few more, would still be dead if you hadn’t knocked me down. Which was even fucking stupider than you’re being now, but we’ll fix that later.”

“Fix that?” She gave him a sharp look, words still choked. “I thought we agreed not to fix each other.”

“You agreed not to fix me. I made no such fucking promises.”

There was a silence for a second before She spoke again. “I don’t want you to ‘fix me’. I want to care that I…” Her stuttered, and she took another shaky breath before pushing them out. “I hurt people.”

“That’s to job, Sunshine.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I didn’t even want the job anyway.”

Ben watched her, wrists still in his hands, face faraway, and eyes still lined with tears. An image flashed in front of him, of Her a few years younger, singing karaoke and crying about stupid, normal shit. Something Ben himself had never done, something Ben wouldn’t even know how to miss. The image lingered in his head, her smile carefree, singing loudly and off-key, no blood on her hands, and the thing in his chest was angry.

“Ben?” She said softly, and the image vanished. “I’m sorry.”

He scowled. “Why are you fucking apologizing to me?”

“You don’t want to deal with this, with me. It’s not- it’s not useful to cry over spilled milk-“

“Shut up,” he snapped. “No, it’s not useful. For me. For Butcher. For Homelander. You get to whine over it, because-“

“Because I’m a woman?” She asked dryly, and he glared at her.

“No, smartass. Because you’re not like us. You didn’t fucking choose this.”

“You didn’t choose that,” she nodded to his chest. “Do you get to cry?”

“I don’t cry.” He said firmly, and She tilted her head at him in a way he didn’t like. “But I get to be angry. You get to be angry. And if you need to have a little breakdown to be angry, then so fucking be it.”

“But I killed people-“

Ben rolled his eyes. “Three Homelander supporters and Firecracker. Real fucking contributors to society, I’m sure.”

“They were still people.” She pushed. “People who I killed. People who would be alive-”

“If you say ‘if you were dead’, I’ll kill you myself.” Ben snapped.

She stared at him in disbelief and something harsher flickered in Her eyes. Fucking finally.

“I’d like to see you fucking try, Pretty Boy.”

He huffed a laugh. “I’ll wipe the floor with your ass, Sunshine.”

“I’ll make you regret crawling out of your mother in the first place, cunt.” She taunted, and Ben felt a wide grin on his face.

“I’m sure you will, you bitch.” Ben gave her a sweeping look. Her matted hair, tear crusted and red eyes, the smell he’d been pushing down starting to feel fucking visible. “But you need to fucking shower first, you smell like the shit you’ve been wallowing in.”

She glared at him, and for a second Ben thought she’d keep fighting him, or worse, start crying again, but she just gave a light tug against where he still held her.

“Can’t fucking shower if you won’t let me move, Ben.” She said flatly, and Ben rolled his eyes as he let go.

“Fucking drama queen,” he muttered, and She gave him a sarcastic, toothy smile as she stood.

“Eat me.”

“I would if you’d let me, Sunshine.” He called after Her, and though she closed the door with a slam, Ben still heard her heart flutter.

He waited as the water ran and tried not to think about Her, naked, in just the other room. Tried not to think about the relief the thing in his chest had felt when she’d stopped crying, the satisfaction it felt when he’d gotten her to laugh, and the stupid fucking anger it had felt at everything when she’d broken in front of him. He didn’t let himself dwell on the way it made him sit here. Fucking waiting for her like a lost goddamn puppy. Wanting to make sure she was okay. She was fine, she wasn’t sobbing and screaming, so she was fucking fine.

But what if She’s not, you fucking ass? The thing growled. What if she’s just waiting for you to leave?

Ben fucking hated that it worked, and he stayed on the bed.

What if She needs you? It hissed. What if she wants you to stay?

Ben loathed that even more. Because it echoed in his brain, and made him listen intently for any sounds of distress over the water, made him sit rigid and alert until the door opened.

She walked out, a towel wrapped around her body. She blinked at him once, and Ben couldn’t fucking figure out if she was even surprised he was there.

“Clothes,” she mumbled, walking to her dresser. Ben grunted, and watched her return to the bathroom, the door closing behind her once more.

Maybe he should go now. It was late, it had been a weird, long fucking day. He should fucking go and put some distance between the thing in his stupid fucking chest and Her-

The door opened, and She walked over to drop back on the bed, a small smile on her face.

“You’re real shit at comforting people, Pretty Boy.”

Fine. He’d fucking stay.

“Good.” Ben grunted. “And it fucking worked on you. Didn’t even get a damn ‘thank you.’”

He felt Her hand on his arm, and looked at her face, soft and open. “Thank you.”

He grunted again, staring back at the wall, and she chuckled.

“I mean, it was still a shit job, but it was so shit it looped around into being remarkably effective.”

“Doesn’t count as a damn thank you, Sunshine, if you fucking insult me right after.”

She shrugged. “Then do a better fucking job next time, Pretty Boy.”

Ben snorted. “Don’t hold your damn breath.” She didn’t respond, and he turned to find Her watching him, lips in a thin frown with her brow gently wrinkled. “I can hear the fucking gears in your head, Sunshine.” He said. “Say what you’re fucking thinking.”

“I’m going to ask you something once. If your answer is no, you’re not allowed to talk about it again.”

Ben frowned. Every time she started a question with a phrase like that, it ended up being something fucking insane. “Okay.” He said shortly, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“If you want, you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to-“

“Quit fucking edging and spit it out.”

She glared at him. “You can stay in here tonight.”

Ben stared at Her, the thing in his chest clawing against him. “What?”

“You can sit in my bed. If you want. I know you won’t sleep, and I won’t sleep well, and I’d probably end up sitting in your room at some point-“

“Why?” Ben cut off Her rambling, frowning.

She held his gaze, her uneven heart the only sign of her nerves. “I don’t-“ she sighed. “I don’t want to be alone. You’d just be sitting here, nothing else. But if you don’t-“

“Fine.” He answered, and the thing in his chest roared.

“Oh,” she paused, and Ben was pretty goddamn sure She’d expected him to say no. “Okay. Good.”

She pulled herself under the covers, looking up at Ben from her back. He didn’t like what that made him feel, and how easy it would be to just pull Her against him and keep her there.

“Thank you.” She said with a small smile. “No insults."

“Whatever,” Ben grumbled, leaning back in a pointless attempt to find a comfortable position. “Just saving you the fucking walk to my room.”

“You’re a saint,” she mumbled sarcastically, eyes drooping. “I’m sure this must have been very hard for you.”

“I’ll live.” He said, watching Her. “I need you functional, Sunshine. Small, stupid fucking price to pay.”

“You need me?” She breathed out, a sleepy smile on her face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “You burn, I burn.” He echoed the words she'd said before. “I’m not going to let you fucking burn. You don’t get away from me that easy.”

“How sweet.” She whispered, eyes fully closing. “I won’t let you burn either, Pretty Boy.”

Ben wanted to protest, and tell Her that he wasn’t sweet, just practical, and he—despite the protests of the thing in his chest—didn’t need her at all. But Her breathing became steady and even, fast asleep in seconds at his side, and he couldn’t fucking bring himself to wake her. So Ben just studied Her sleeping face, not empty, not twisted in pain, a soft smile playing on her lips. He should fucking go, She was asleep and that’s all She’d fucking needed from him. But he stayed in place, and watcher Her like a fucking creep. Her peaceful face, smooth heartbeat, and gentle breaths soothing the thing in his chest. Ben need to get himself under fucking control, he was being fucking pathetic.

But he stayed, all fucking night, unable to move and barely capable of looking away. And the more of the night that passed, the long he watched Her, the more he realized she was pretty. Really fucking pretty. He hadn’t been fucking blind, he’d known she was pretty before. Thought about it more than he’d ever fucking admit. But fuck, this was different. She was really, really goddamn pretty. And then She rolled over, settling so she was comfortably pressed against him, and he realized she was beautiful. Like one of those stupid, overpriced paintings art-pussies in the 70s had tried to sell him. But real. Fucking beautiful, in a way that made him unable to look away, that made him feel fucking stupid.

Beautiful in a way that made him stay at Her side the whole night, frozen on her bed with her body against him, all the way until the sun started to leak into the room.

[mysterylilycheeta]

ONYX STORM REVIEW:

After 2 days of catching up on all the work I had postponed for the sake of reading OS, and organising my thoughts, I'm here with my spoiler free review of Onyx Storm. Please remember that these are my personal thoughts and opinions and you're free to agree or disagree based on your views

Rating: 3.25 stars

The Good:

The absolute lack of miscommunication between Xaden and Violet: This book is a gift for all those people who were annoyed to their wit's end by the repetitive stupid fights between Xaden and Violet in Iron Flame. They trust each other, communicate with each other and don't get mad about secrets. I was so pleasantly surprised

Ridoc: Ridoc went through such amazing character development, he easily became one of my favourite characters in the story. We saw him as only the comic relief friend till now but man, he shows such badassery in this book while still being his clown self. And, let's not forget his favourite dick jokes!

The Dragons: Anyone who knows me knows my favourite part about the series is Tairn and the other dragons. Love seeing my grumpy dad dragon, he's such a mood. We also have our sassy teenager Andarna to give him grief. I love all the moments Tairn started boasting about his lineage and his feat: he's such a dork!

Dain and Cat: I never truly hated Dain because I knew from Fourth Wing itself he never intentionally wanted to harm Violet. My only gripe with him was about breaking her trust and looking through her memories without her consent. But man, does he redeem himself. Needless to say, Dain is on my "need to protect" list. I really hated Cat in Iron Flame because she was such a stereotypical cringey evil ex and the way she attacked Violet was so crass and below the belt. She still has some shitty moments in the beginning of the book but she gets a lot better so much so that I want good things to happen to her in the next books. RY did a great job writing these two

Jealous Xaden: My o my was it a treat to see Xaden so jealous. RY fed us with those entertaining af moments. Read the book and you'll find out what I mean

Aaric: I was intrigued by Aaric in book 2 but he stepped up the game so much in this book. He is an amazing character and I'll throw hands if RY even tries to harm him in any way, istg.

The Bad:

Very mediocre worldbuilding: This might be just a timing issue, but the last fantasy book I read was the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, and every fantasy fan knows the kind of world-building Sanderson does. Onyx Storm tries to introduce us to new places beside the continent, but it is not well done. We spend half the book in the Isle Kingdoms, yet they're not even mentioned on the map. They talk about routes to get to the kingdoms, but how am I supposed to follow them if you won't even mention them on the maps? Every Island has a god it worships and things go according to that but I think we could've had a little more information about them beforehand instead of being presented basic info right before we arrive at the next island. "We're going to said island, this is the god they believe in, here's a five point bullet lost of their customs"- NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! Like I said, it might be because my last book was by Sanderson so my expectations were higher but the world felt so lacking.

Lack of Glossary: A glossary should be a must in every fantasy book, especially if you're branching out and diving deeper into worldbuilding. We are introduced to gods, islands, uprisings and groups of people we haven't even heard of before and we get hardly one or two lines about them in a chapter and then they are mentioned again 2 chapters later and we're supposed to follow. There were so many new names in OS, it was difficult to keep track of them after a while. I still don't completely understand who the Krovlan people were and what was their deal.

Lack of Basgiath: My favourite book in the series till now has been Fourth Wing and one of the biggest reasons for that was Basgiath. I loved that place and the way it felt an actual character in the story. That Basgiath charm is missing in this book. Basgiath is the biggest strength of this series, it's the reason why FW was so successful, the war college and it's deadly atmosphere, the challenges, the interpersonal relations, it was entertaining af. However as the series is progressing, it's turning into another typical romantasy involving young adults leading revolutions, making alliances, fighting wars etc. I started reading Fourth Wing because of it's setting and yet with each new book, we spend less and less time in Basgiath and it's just dampening my mood.

No real surprises: Let me be brutally honest- this book felt like a filler. Of course there are a few shocking moments with new information but it hardly hit the mark like the previous two books. There were no moments that essentially packed a punch. It's just a bunch of random sidequests to gain alliances which didn't up feeling all that meaningful because of worldbuilding problems. It also seemed like fanservice because of a lot of reasons but I won't mention them as they can be accounted as minor spoilers. Some characters died but it didn't feel impactful at all. It seemed more like Ry was just filling up the death quota because we can't have a book where no one dies

Violet and Xaden: Okay so here's the thing, I like both of them as characters and I think they make a good pair. However, I didn't ever truly feel the romance and this has been a problem since Fourth Wing. They have a shit ton of lusty moments but hardly any soft romantic domestic moments that make the relationship feel organic. I have always been disappointed by the lack of proper romantic development between these two. The problem in this book however is the dialogue- they felt so cheesy and downright cringe at times. Maybe show more and say less?? The way they keep saying nothing else matters as much and I know people are feral for how Xaden and Violet are ready to throw off the entire rebellion for each other but it irks me so much. Xaden, you are leading these people and you have accepted that responsibility. Stop endangering the lives of people you swore to protect because Violet might be in danger. She has other people to support her. Violet, don't get mad when people tell you your needs and wants will come second to Xaden's duty towards the people. He is their leader, he has to make those sacrifices, If you think that's unfair then find someone else to fill his position. You can't have the leadership position yet be each other's top priority. It might seem unfair but that is the right thing to do. I really don't feel like the two of them are fit to lead people. Agree with @thequietesthing's review about Violet's god level power feeling over dramatic and out of character at times.

The Ending: If any of you have talked to me about the book in the last few days, you'll know I'm frustrated af with the ending. It doesn't exactly feel like a well done cliffhanger, it's just plain messy. A bunch of unanswered questions to keep the reader confused and hooked for the next book but it just ruined the whole book for me. I have no issues with cliffhangers but the book should feel complete. The way Onyx Storm ended, it feels there were at least two more chapters that got deleted. It's just all over the place.

That was the review guys. I'll still wait for the next book to get published but my excitement has gone down quite a lot. I was expecting more of a Harry Potter style story where the main still occurs in the school/college itself but it seems like that isn't gonna be the case. I honestly believe this series should've been just 3 books instead of 5 but oh well, what can we say. Really agree with @justallihere and @justascrollingghost. We have almost the same complaints with the books lol P.S: The best surprise in this book: Broccoli, the kitten

[pastelwitchling]

Let's talk about Violet Sorrengail. I'm currently rereading Iron Flame in preparation for Onyx Storm, and I have so much to say on the brilliance of this series so far that I figured I could do it here. I particularly wanted to address the controversy I see around Iron Flame, which is on the conflict between Violet and Xaden, and I've seen people mostly siding with Xaden, calling Violet whiny or annoying or stubborn, and... I (not-so) respectfully disagree 😂 Warning: the following post will contain spoilers on both Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, so read at your peril:

I put out a post yesterday on fable where I basically said I was getting frustrated all over again at Xaden's secret-keeping, and I got two very different responses. One said they were angry at Xaden as well, and the other said they were annoyed with Violet. This is an excellent example of why I love this series so much: you could easily argue for both sides. At least, I could. I get that Xaden has to worry about the whole revolution and everyone involved, I get that there's more on the line than either of these two characters, I get there's a risk with Dain getting ahold of Violet, especially because we're not sure we can trust him anymore. I get there are risks, I get Xaden wanting Violet to trust him enough that she doesn't need every detail. I get all of it, but... I also really get it from Violet's perspective as well.

This is a girl who came in already one step behind everyone else, not just because she's disabled, but because she didn't train her whole life for Basgiath the way the other riders had, she never volunteered, she didn't have the drive for it going in that everyone else did. Her only option was to survive, and not because she hoped to have a dragon, but because she had no other choice. She couldn't join the scribes, so either she survived or she didn't. Her motto is literally "I will not die today" because that's all she can hope for. The only weapon in her arsenal and which she relies on to help her make it every single day is her intelligence and knowledge. She's the smartest, she can think her way out of any problem, she's intelligent enough to see paths where others wouldn't. Now? Now her only weapon is gone.

Her world's been turned upside down, one of her best friends died trying to protect her from a creature she never knew existed, everything she thought she knew and could rely on is gone, and Xaden puts her back in Basgiath, encourages her to isolate herself from her friends, not let on that she knows anything is wrong as innocent civilians are dying and towns are attacked left and right, and essentially tells her not to worry her pretty little head about it. He and the others will take care of it. What are they taking care of exactly? Well, who knows? Because he won't tell her.

DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I LOVE Xaden, he is... incomparable to me. But aren't his demands a little cruel? He has yet to tell Violet he loves her, but wants to hear the words from her. He has suspicions that Varrish will look through her things, but doesn't have anyone warn her. Maybe he can't tell her everything, but he can give her some idea on how the revolution is going, how plans are panning out, and refuses to do any of it. The most he tells Violet is that he wants her to ask the right questions, and my dude! You want her to ask you the properly-worded question so you can, what, give her another half-answer? And until she figures out those proper questions, there's a good excuse not to tell her anything? Especially when you are isolating her from everyone she holds dear, leaving her utterly alone while you get to keep your friends to rely on? And he can't tell why she'd be upset about this?

I got to the point last night in the book when he finds out she's researching the wards, and tells her that she's risking her life and he just wishes she would've been honest with him, and I guess my brain had completely blocked the hypocrisy out from my first read because I was gaping! He risks his life every day and tells her nothing about it, tells her not to even worry, but he demands honesty from her now?? With what right, sir???!!

Also, ALSO, just humor me for a second, but assume Violet did do as she was told. Assume she did try not to worry about it, not to get involved, not to do anything Xaden doesn't want her to. How does that make her a badass fmc? I think of books like Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and Crescent City, where the fmc was all bark and no bite. She TALKED about how much she cared about other people, she TALKED about how much everyone meant to her, she TALKED about injustice and how angry it made her and how much she wanted things to change and be better, and what did all of those fmcs have in common? They either did NOTHING, constantly yanked around by the male main character with every excuse to continue to do nothing, or they selfishly went out and made things worse in the name of doing something.

What did Violet do when Xaden told her not to worry about it? She fought back, she understood why she couldn't be told, but still asked for something so that she wouldn't go out of her mind. She was thrust back into Basgiath, lost and not knowing who or what to trust, and decided she was going to be productive, she was going to look into the wards and find a way to protect people in a clever and quiet way. And spoiler alert? It's her work with the wards that ends up saving everyone, and she doesn't get innocent people killed or in trouble doing it either.

I am so eternally sick of being TOLD why female main characters are badass and how caring and wonderful and self-sacrificial they are, and what do we get? We get unbelievably selfish characters like Bryce, or fmcs from Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and One Dark Window whose names I've already forgotten because all they did was snarl and talk and had no abilities to follow it up.

So yeah, I'll defend Violet until the hilt because she's out there DOING something helpful and worthwhile, she's actually contributing, and her anger makes sense. She's separated from everyone she loves, the one man she wishes she could talk to is gone most of the time, and giving her half-answers when he's actually there. She doesn't know what to trust, this is a girl who recites the history of her world to calm herself and give herself courage, and who has now discovered that that history is a lie. Xaden is supposed to be the guy that believed in her abilities when no one else did, and now she feels like he's become just someone else who doesn't trust in her strength to guard her thoughts against Dain. Whether or not it's true doesn't matter because it's how he makes her feel, and her feelings are already a mess after everything that's happened.

Does it come off a bit stubborn? Sure, but... how I think of it is a lot like Harry Potter from Order of the Phoenix. He was angry during that whole book, too, but I don't know, these characters are always so good and brave and clever and genuinely caring and willing to do what it takes for the people they love that when they can't take it anymore, when they've been pushed to their limit, it's not fair to tell them to just be reasonable and follow orders and keep quiet. They know too much, too much has happened, too many people around them have hurt them. I think that warrants a little anger, a need to be useful and do something when everything else feels so hopeless.

If Xaden wanted somebody that was content not knowing and not helping and not caring, if he wanted someone that wouldn't have put their lives at risk to save people and, above all, save him, then he should've fallen in love with someone else.

[callsign-rogueone]

letters from samara - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x reader (Angel!) part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 1.0k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS, part of my Garrick and Angel series, so read that first for context! no other warnings, just kinda soft and sad.

Someone drops a thick envelope onto the table in front of you. “From Samara. They said it was important.”

Samara. Brennan had told you that’s where Garrick and Xaden are. Your hands shake as you open the seal, but you relax at the familiar slant of Garrick’s handwriting. 

My angel,

I will start with what I know you’re most worried about: I am alive, I am safe, and so is X. He’s brooding in the corner of the room right now -- he’s not taking it well being apart from Vi, but command has allowed them visits every two weeks for Tairn and Sgaeyl’s sakes. 

We both miss you more than words can describe. I wish I could have said goodbye before we left, or that we could have taken you with us, but X wouldn’t hear arguments from anyone. I have never seen him that serious about anything before. 

I’m so sorry, angel. For all of it, everything. You didn’t deserve to be put through any of that, and I know how deeply it hurt you. It was terrifying to see you that way, so drained and cold. I can’t imagine what it felt like. 

Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, my love. You are the most kindhearted person I’ve ever known, and I love that about you, but you have to think of your own needs as well. You deserve peace and rest, especially now. Sleep in as long as you want, make time for your meditation. I’m sure the gardens would appreciate your attention as well; I swear you could make roses grow in dry sand as long as you smiled at them every day. 

I couldn’t bear to burn anything of yours, knowing that your heart still beats. I kept the things I thought to be most important to you and took them here with me. I will return them to you as soon as I can, but they are a comfort to me now — my room here feels like it did at Basgiath, with little touches of you scattered around. I keep watching the door, thinking that any moment you’ll come knocking to walk to class with me, or if I reach across the bed in the morning, you’ll be beside me again. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, but I know in my heart that I will. There is nothing and no-one that could keep me from you. 

Yours always,

G

On the sheet below, another.

Until I can lay by your side and tell you about my days, I’ll keep writing to you about them instead.

Being here feels like being a fresh cadet all over again, but different -- bottom of the food chain, getting the shifts nobody wants, but at least we don’t have to constantly prove our strength like we did in our first year at Basgiath, and we already have our dragons. 

One of Chradh’s relatives is here, which is cool. I think they’re cousins? They look damn near identical. I walked up to the wrong one on the flight line the other day -- thankfully the guy has a better sense of humor than Chradh, but I’m never making that mistake again.

Every rider here seemed to know exactly who we were when we arrived. Some of them have been more subtle with their distaste for us than others, but nobody’s been dumb enough to try anything -- probably because we look like we can fight, and because Sgaeyl is fucking terrifying, even more so now that she’s separated from Tairn. 

I just got off a 12-hour patrol shift, and I’m exhausted, but it’s hard to sleep without you here. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long in our lives. Being without either of you has never even felt like a possibility before; it’s always been us three together through the good and the bad. Someday it’ll be like that again, I know it will.

Brennan is the best mender I have ever known. If you choose, he can help you strengthen your ability, but please don’t push yourself too far. I need you to be in one piece when I get back. 

There are three more sheets underneath, one in Xaden’s rough script and two more from Garrick, the last dated four days ago -- likely the day he’d sent it. 

You realize what an incredible risk it was to write to you at all. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together that X is Xaden, that you’re hiding in Aretia, that you’d faked your death, or rather that your friends had faked it for you. How many hands did these pages pass through to reach you? How many others out there are on your side? 

You bring a hand up to cover your yawn, realizing how tired you are. The sun has gone down, a small mage light the only thing illuminating the corner of the study that you occupy. It’s likely nearing midnight.

“The letters and the books will still be there in the morning,” Tab says gently. “Sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You look down at the torn piece of fabric you’ve been staring at for the last four hours. It has not yet sewn itself back together, no matter how hard you concentrated or “cleared your mind”, how gently you touched it. You’d even asked it nicely, but it did not dignify you with a response.

You set the letters aside for a moment, stacking up the books that you’d found in the house’s library about mending and placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the table you’ve been sitting at every evening for the last week. You fold the black cotton into quarters, setting it atop the pile -- you’ll try again tomorrow.

You can’t help but smile as you tuck the letters back into the envelope, brushing your fingers over the wax seal.

Garrick is right, this is the longest you’ve ever been apart, but as you gaze out the window into the starry sky, holding the letters he’d written you, the distance between you doesn’t seem that far.

[rosemarysage]

Hello everybody! I’m trying to compile all the information we got about Onyx storm so it's easier to find. So below I have written everything Rebecca has said at recent events that I think could be relevant to OS or the next books. I left out the stuff I didn’t think was relevant like the T.V. show and personal questions about Rebecca. The links are at the bottom. The first two are from an audio recording. Many thanks to Tumblr user Skyfallscotland for posting the audio. I haven’t been able to find recordings for the Perth show and some of the other dates from these so if you have any information from them please let me know and I can update the post. I intend to add the older interviews later but I wanted to get this one up because we got lots of juicy details from the panels.

Fourth wing and iron flame spoilers

Sydney panel 6/22/24 Saturday

She has deviated from the Synopsis she made for the series

She knows what the last scene of the series will be

We will see more of the world in OS and the following books. The map is representative of what Violet knows so it will expand as Violet learns more.

Jack Barlowe is around and serves a purpose. He likely won’t be a main character. Rebecca likes bad characters to have a reason for doing bad things. Jack has always wanted power.

The interviewer asked her not to do a redemption arc for Jack and Rebecca said “Noted”

Dain represents the love you thought you wanted when you were younger

When Dain says, “If you had just told me none of this would have happened” in the interrogation chamber he’s not just talking about the interrogation but also Liam’s death and everything else.

Violet is completely disconnected from her magic in the interrogation chamber. She can’t reach out to her dragons or Xaden. Rebecca said that Violet's mind summoned Liam because he was her protector.

The interrogation scene ending with Dain and Xaden was the driving point of the writing process. There is a scene in OS that elicits similar emotions and Rebecca said we aren’t going to like it

Q&A

Jack likely won’t have a romantic relationship. He’s also probably not “the real enemies to lovers arc”

Garrick's signet is in book three

A rider doesn’t necessarily have the same traits as their dragon's color, sometimes they have the opposite and need their dragon to counter them. Brennan is a tactician and needs unpredictably and Imogen is a wild card. The dragon rider bond is kind of like a marriage.

Her editor got her to add Andarna. She is there to balance Tairns' massive power.

Someone asked if we would hear more about the first six and Andarna and she said “Maybe” is a funny voice

Violet’s dad is not Malek.

Sgaeyl is pissed at Xaden and is not speaking to him at the moment. She also mentioned the bond between them.

Someone accidentally asked if Xaden dated the prince instead of Violet. After they figured that out she said, “I think you should read the third book”

Sydney panel 6/24/24 Monday

She deviated from the plan for OS concerning a character's death.

Jack is an example of the hunger for power and what happens when you aren’t selected for the power you think you deserve

She expected us to figure out the second signet. Her editor asked her if it needed another line to make it clear and she said no they would get it.

The Taylor songs that describe OS are Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me and So It Goes.

Someone asked,” Have you considered doing a prequel on the first six or how the empyrean came about or will this be revealed in further books?” and she skipped it

Melbourne 6/25/24

The interviewer asked, “Do we already have a reference to Onyx that will reveal the title's meaning to us” Rebecca passed

The interviewer asked if we would get another POV from Xaden or anyone else and Rebecca said that she has established a record of showing a little bit of what Xaden is thinking.

She that we have already learned Violet's second signet

The interview asked if Garrick would realize Imogen is into him and Rebecca asked what makes us think he doesn’t know

When asked if we would learn more about Father Sorrengails research about feathertails she said “Maybe” again in a funny voice

Onyx Storm is very Rep coded. She listened to So it Goes a lot while writing OS.

In the interrogation scene, she is cut off from her magic so her mind “pulls” someone who protected her

The interviewer asked if Xaden and Sgaeyl were still bonded and she said, “Next time on fourth wing”

She was asked if Xaden and Violet are endgame and she passed and then said “I write romances”

Her favorite thing about Violet in OS is that she has one goal and she doesn’t care what stands in her way.

Seattle March

Sgaeyl is pissed and not speaking to Xaden

Xaden won’t get more POVs until he quits keeping secrets. His problems with Sgaeyl will be explored externally. The interviewer said that Xaden keeps secrets about things other an Aretia and Rebecca said, “Naturally”. Violet is way better at keeping secrets in OS. She’s in her reputation era.

A lot of things were set up in Fourth Wing that didn’t come into effect in Iron Flame that will in the upcoming books.

We should expect about the same amount of Xaden’s POVs in future books, namely end chapters and bonus chapters.

Rebecca said, “There is a correlation between less and less dragons bonding  and more and more dragons saying what we are doing is wrong”

We will learn Violet’s father's name and more about him.

Xaden’s mom’s story will come up in later books.

The other three quadrants can drop out or change quadrants. Only the riders don’t allow this.

Miscellaneous

Rebecca said in an Instagram comment that she wrote a line referencing Xaden and the boys moving Violet’s armoire in OS.

Links

Sydney

https://www.tumblr.com/skyfallscotland/754271162361577472/it-took-me-far-too-long-to-realise-i-could-just

Melbourne 6/25

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=8FrFupBTVgY&pp=ygUOcmViZWNjYSB5YXJyb3M%3D

Seattle March

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=v0yTEZBtpVQ&t=6s&pp=ygUOcmViZWNjYSB5YXJyb3M%3D

[babybemydownfall]

Mind and Soul

AKA Helion visits Velaris and learns all about Feyre's glow.

My first ever Feyre x Rhysand fanfic. I haven't written in years, but I recently read the ACOTAR series and of course these two just imprinted themselves on me.

My mind is now continuously full of smutty one shots, and here is the first.

Rated M/NSFW. Pretty much PWP, with Helion and wine for added entertainment.

If you find this, if you read it, if you enjoy it - please let me know!

Now posted on AO3 as well.

II

"You fuck her while you're flying?"

It has been almost a year since the end of the Hybern war, and some kind of peace has settled across most of Prythian. Since the secret of Velaris came out during the conflict, Rhysand and Feyre have begun to host their allies - their friends - in their home city. To show off the place they so love, the place Rhys and his ancestors have governed and protected for millennia. Helion came first, two months back. He stayed for a week with a small entourage, and everyone involved spent the entire time either drinking or hungover. Feyre had never seen her mate so at ease with anyone outside his Inner Circle, and she loved discovering yet another new side to him.

Even when he winnowed home intoxicated each night, long after she’d excused herself from the raucous drinking circles at the House of Wind, stumbling into furniture and waking her up. “For a lethal predator you make a hell of a lot of noise,” she grumbled the fourth time it happened. Usually she just tried to go back to sleep, but tonight something made her turn to him. She sent sparks of flame to the candles on the dresser.

“Sorry,” Rhys whispered, so loudly he may as well have been shouting. She sat up, watching him pull off his clothes - all of them - and felt her body heating up despite itself. Coming to bed alone was so unusual, and even though they made up for it each morning, Feyre suddenly felt starved of him.

He caught her gaze and his beautiful mouth curved into a devilish smile. “You missed me.” He let his eyes roam downwards, focusing on her breasts which instantly swelled beneath her cream satin slip. The friction against her nipples made her gasp softly.  

“Oh darling,” he sighed, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards her. He was so gloriously naked, with his tanned, tattooed muscles, dark wings and rapidly rising erection, that Feyre felt her mouth start to water. “Admit it,” he said when his face was an inch from hers. “Say that you missed me as much as I missed you.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but his arousal was so strong it had immediately sharpened what the drinking had dulled. He really was a predator, and now he had only one thing on his mind.

Feyre swallowed at the power he contained, the power her held over - but tried her best not to let it show. She had power too. More than enough to make him fall to the ground at her feet.

“You missed me?” she asked lightly, hands rising to his shoulders, his neck and jaw and into his hair. Exploring the contours she knew so well, and yet could never get enough of.

Rhys leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “From the moment you left. I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.”

“You were busy with your friends. You deserve to enjoy yourself, after everything.”

He looked at her again; kissed the tip of her thumb as it caressed his lips. “I still wanted to ravish you before you left. I always want to ravish you. And as nice as it is having Helion here, I miss it being just us.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes the air around them closed in, becoming thicker, hotter, making it harder to breathe. Feyre thought of a hundred things to say, a thousand ways to tell him how much she loved him, but it all seemed insignificant when she could show him instead. She slipped her thumb past his lips, feeling his teeth clamp down, and it instantly set her alight.

She closed the space between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Her body rose automatically into his until they were both kneeling, connected thigh to thigh, his cock pressed into her belly and her aching breasts pushed tight against his chest. His huge arms wrapped around her back, fingers in her hair, squeezing her backside - all of him, all over her, and it wasn’t enough. It never was.

After devouring her for several long, luscious moments, Rhys moved to sit back against the pillows and pulled her to straddle his lap. His tongue was hot in her mouth again as his hand reached between them and pushed up the short hem of her gown, groaning when he found her bare beneath. He slid his fingers against her and then straight inside, when he discovered she was soaking wet and could take him. Feyre’s head fell backwards and she moaned from the depths of her soul.

Fuck, he shouted inside her mind. You are so- Feyre! I’m so-

Incoherent? she managed to tease, although Gods-knew how because she was rapidly turning into a puddle of molten fire. So unlike you, High Lord.

Rhys growled aloud and bit the side of her neck, hard enough to make her yelp, to gush more wetness onto the fingers which were stroking her insides at an increasingly rapid pace. She knew what it did to him when she used his title like that. Knew what he’d do to her when his arousal leapt up another notch - and shivered in anticipation.

His tongue licked the spot he’d just hurt and Feyre’s hands went to pull off her nightgown, the last barrier between them, but he stopped her with his mind.

Leave it on. You look… so sexy.

Yes my Lord, she replied breathlessly. This time he bit her breast through her gown, just below her left nipple, and then sucked the whole area into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her again and again. The roughness of the wet fabric, the pressure of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth on one of her most sensitive parts - it was nothing but pure ecstasy.

I want to lick you everywhere. I want to drown in your wetness. I want you to come on my tongue, my face as I suck on your clit-

The only other sign of his insobriety - his thoughts rolling freely into her mind, completely unfiltered and unbelievably arousing.

Do it then, she urged, already close to the edge. Just fucking do it, Rhys darling.

He pushed her back onto the mattress and ate her out so thoroughly she came in no time at all, her thighs squeezing his head as golden light burst through her skin, bright behind her eyelids. Then darkness came, enveloping her senses as Rhys settled his weight on her and began to pound into her, lifting her left leg over his elbow and kissing her wildly, with all the heat inside his magnificent body.

Again, he commanded.

Yes High Lord.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he gasped against her lips, quickening his pace even further. She was so close to orgasm again, the all-consuming, earth-shattering kind that he gave her every single time he was inside her like this. As his mouth dipped to suck on her nipples again, she reached over his shoulders and ran her thumbs along the edges of his wings; gripped them tight as he roared and she screamed and they came together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and thundering hearts and desperate, messy kisses.

Eventually, finally, they stilled.

“Wow,” Feyre breathed, touching his face with reverent fingertips, marvelling at him even after all this time.

“Wow indeed,” Rhys grinned, nuzzling her nose with his. “I hope you weren’t doubting my ability to perform, after the drinking.”

“Would I?” she asked innocently.

“Hmm.” He shifted his hips and made her groan. “Well, you need never doubt me again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

She kissed him sweetly even as his eyes darkened, and then pushed his shoulders so he reluctantly moved off her. Taking his hand, she led him into the bathroom and they took a very quick, very soapy shower together. She realised the alcohol had finally caught up with him when he didn’t even try to seduce her again - just lovingly held her as she washed him, humming contentedly against the top of her head.

They snuggled back into bed and she felt his body and mind curl around hers, as he did every night. Just after she put out the candles and closed her eyes, a sudden thought came to her - one so bizarre, it made her burst out laughing.

“What?” Rhys asked drowsily, right on the edge of sleep already.

“My glow. Helion’s light. I wonder if he has any idea what he gave me.”

Through the bond, shimmering as golden as ever after their shared release, she felt something akin to guilt from her mate.

After a moment of hesitation, Rhys confessed: He does.

Oh. Because… the same thing happens to him, after sex?

No. Because I told him.

And then he sent her a memory, of them sitting together earlier that night, overlooking Velaris as Helion quizzed him on Feyre’s power. “She glows like the sun,” Rhys had said reverently, and she knew from his voice and the haze of the images that they were already several drinks deep. “When she… When we’re… in bed together. Not just in bed, obviously. On the floor, in the bath; against the wall. When we’re flying-”

Helion had choked on his wine. “You fuck her while you’re flying?”

“Several times now,” Rhys had said and she could hear him smirking. “It’s… high stakes, high reward.”

“Gods almighty.” Helion whistled through his teeth, his eyes bright with amusement and - was that envy?

The memory faded. Feyre thought she should feel embarrassed, that this other male - practically a stranger to her - knew how she looked when she orgasmed. But of all the Fae in Prythian, Helion had to be one of the most open and sexually free. So much so, she actually felt pride at the fact that Rhys had managed to shock him.

He said he wished he could try it sometime, Rhys confirmed, his thoughts so tired she could barely hear them. I politely declined, of course. Even though I know he wants me.

Feyre snorted. You wish.

I don’t. You’re the only one for me, High Lady.

She squeezed his arm tighter around her. Next time we play, you can call me that.

Oh, I will. I love you.

I love you too. Forever.

She felt him drift off into a dream, and followed shortly after. Her last thought was that lunch at the townhouse tomorrow with their honoured guest was going to be interesting, now that he knew one of her most intimate secrets…

II

Of course, Helion made sure he was seated right beside her at lunch. They ate in the dining room, all of their Inner Circle and his filling the twelve seats around the long table. Mor was flirting with Athenna, a beautiful dark-skinned female with waves of black hair down to her hips. They had been drinking and dancing together last night, and Feyre wondered if they’d gone home together. They certainly looked close, touching each other at every opportunity, giggling into their champagne glasses as they tried and failed to maintain some sense of decorum.

Not that it mattered. The House of Wind was where they hosted their formal engagements. Here in Rhys’s home, her home, they wanted their guests to feel as relaxed as possible. And with the warmth of the roaring fire in the hearth, the platters of hot meats and vegetables and gravies, the animated chit chat between acquaintances old and new, Feyre looked around and knew that they were. And it made her heart so happy, to know they had found peace, and great friends, and love.

Helion, who had taken Mor to his bed the last time they all met in Dawn, didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she was half-draped over one of his most trusted advisors. His attention was entirely on Feyre as she helped herself to roast potatoes.

“I heard a very interesting fact about you last night, Feyre Cursebreaker.”

“Oh yes?” she asked innocently, adding slices of venison to her plate.

“Yes. And once I learned this fact, I wondered if I might be able to - sense it. Being here in Velaris, so close to my power.”

“My power, remember.”

She held his gaze for a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Indeed. And so there I was, finally lying in my bed after a most enjoyable evening being plied with drink by your dear Rhysand - and then I felt it. Felt you.”

His amber eyes shone, and his voice was a purr when he said: “Feyre - it felt good.”

She glanced over at Rhys, her smile now a full-on smirk. “He does.”

Helion grinned, showing off all his perfect white teeth. “I am in no way surprised.”

Rhys obviously felt them staring at him, despite being deep in conversation with his neighbour, because he frowned and silently asked Feyre, What?

Nothing darling. Our guest is just speculating on your sexual prowess. 

Ah. I hope you told him it is unparalleled. Something that has to be seen to be believed. 

Are you inviting him into our bed?!

He laughed in her mind, his lips curving as he took a long drink from his glass. He wouldn’t say no, if we asked.

Rhys!

You know I’m right. 

Feyre shook her head, chuckling to herself even as her cheeks felt warm. Helion noticed, as he seemed to notice everything about her. 

“How I would love to have a lover like yours, Feyre dear. Someone who could whisper their every dirty, depraved thought straight into my mind. Someone who could make me blush like that across rooms, cities; mountains and seas.”

“It does come in handy,” she mused, enjoying Helion’s attention and the chance to show off just how smoking hot her relationship with her mate was. She couldn’t talk like this to Mor or Amren, or to his brothers or her sisters - they all felt like they saw too much already. And while she had a few friends in the city now, particularly in the art studios and restaurants of the Rainbow Quarter, she was first and foremost their High Lady. They would be horrified if she started talking about her sex life.

She leaned in to Helion, breathing in his warm, spicy scent as she spoke close to his ear: “I can feel him in my mind, as well as on my body. He can fuck me in both places at once. His power reaches for mine, and mine for his, and they wrap around each other, so close it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin.”

Even speaking the words out loud was turning her on. She hadn’t ever really stepped back to think about how unique she and Rhys were: two daemati, two of the most powerful Fae in history, not just in love with one another but mated. Forever bonded by their minds and their souls. And when their naked bodies entwined, when they whispered ‘I love you’ over and over as their hearts thundered to the same beat - no two creatures should be able to contain so much raw, unadulterated power, so much love and passion and longing. It was no wonder Feyre felt like she was going to explode, each and every time. It was no wonder she burned like the sun and Rhys’s darkness soared out of him, stars and moons and entire galaxies sweeping away everything in their path.

She felt goosebumps on her skin and swallowed. Helion was perfectly still as he listened, enthralled and - she had no doubt - aroused as well.

“He sends me pictures too,” she continued in a lighter tone, trying to quell the growing ache between her legs. “So I can see myself as he sees me, as he’s fucking me. Or if we’re apart, we can… tease each other.”

She knew Rhys was looking at her now, undoubtedly fully aware of how flustered she had made herself, but she couldn’t look back at him or she would be climbing over the table to pounce on his delicious body. Caught in the full attention of two High Lords, her blood pounding through her veins, Feyre had no idea what to say next - but fortunately for her, Cassian interrupted them from Helion’s other side.

“You two look very cosy together,” he said, oblivious to the topic of conversation. “What are you gossiping about?”

Helion smiled broadly as he began, “Feyre-”

But Rhys immediately cut him off, his voice friendly but firm. “-Is entitled to her secrets.”

Their guest’s honey-coloured eyes were full of amusement. “As I was going to say, Rhysand, Feyre is clearly enjoying life here in the City of Starlight. Every single day, she positively… glows.”

“Oh, at least once,” Rhys smirked, and then changed the subject so swiftly that Cassian and anyone else listening had no time to work out what he could possibly mean by that.

“Can I propose a toast?” he said loudly, and the whole table quietened. His brilliant violet eyes gazed first at Helion, and then straight into Feyre’s as he went on: “To our alliance with the Day Court. To the coming together of great minds and souls.”

His intonation was lost on everyone else as they toasted, but Helion laughed aloud and Feyre flushed from head to toe at the fact he’d heard everything she’d said, and the fact that he liked it, judging by the dark desire painted all over his face.

As much as I want to, he told her, his smooth voice caressing the inside of her skull, We can’t leave this table just yet. But perhaps you can send me some of those pictures you were telling Helion about?

Prick, Feyre replied, clenching her thighs together despite herself.

Come on, darling. Show me how you want me later.

She picked up her glass and drank the rest of the champagne straight down. Then formed an image of herself dancing with Helion in the living room, both fully dressed but entwined together, while Rhys was forced to sit and watch, his wrists bound to his chair - and flung it into his mind.

He blinked in shock, and then the most dangerous smile lifted the corners of his lips. Feyre was remotely aware that Helion had started conversing with Cassian, obviously realising that he had lost her attention. And she knew it was rude, especially as she was his host, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care right now. Not when her mate sent his own pictures back to her - of the same scene but with him naked, reclining on the chair as he stroked himself, getting off on watching her move her body against another male.

Rhys! she yelped, shifting in her seat. She longed to be closer to him, to be able to smell and touch him, to feel his muscles and his power thrumming next to her own. But she knew that if she moved any closer, it would be the end of decency.

Eat, he commanded, fully aware of her internal struggle. Most of the time she loved that he knew her so well - better than she knew herself, in a lot of ways - but right now she just wanted to damn him for winning the upper hand yet again.

And, sweet Feyre, he went on, At least try not to look like you’re thinking about me fucking you in here.

It was a miracle that she got through the rest of the meal, and dessert, and fortified wine, with more rounds of toasting as everyone grew merrier and more uninhibited. They eventually adjourned to the living room, spilling out into the back garden, and it was hours but felt like days until Rhys tugged on her hand and stole her away from the party, winnowing them into his study and pressing her back into the locked door.

“Hi lover,” she breathed, gazing at him with all the adoration and desire she felt for him as her arms locked around his neck and she drew him as close as physically possible. It had been sweet torture being so near to him all afternoon and yet unable to touch him, to hold him in the ways she wanted to most of all. “Is it finally time?”

“For what?” he asked, his voice low, his body hot and humming with deadly promise.

For you to take me in here. She sounded playful and sultry; a combination she knew drove him wild. Come and smother me in your darkness. Come and lick me all over. Come and claim me.

His growl made the bookshelves shudder.

His mind and soul, heart and body claimed her so thoroughly she didn’t even know her own name by the end.

And outside, as he felt her power suddenly burst free, Helion fell to his knees under the early evening sky and roared with laughter.

II

[bookthoughtsandreviews]

Onyx Storm... Spoilers ahead...

The whole Fourth Wing series has taken over my life just like it has for many people. This book was great. Though confusing at times, why Xaden kept Violet shut out during weird times, or why would Ardarna left in the first freaking place, the book kept me interested. After talking to my friends about the anticipated release, I finally understand my own feelings.

First and foremost is Quinn's death. Like we needed our hearts ripped out more. The Xaden predicament already had us worried weather or not he was going to go full venin and then a minor character dies. Quinn maynot be a main side character but Imogen's reaction is what killed me.

Also, this book gave me serious Vampire Academy vibes, in particular Shadow Bound. Dimitri turns Strigoi and Xaden turns Venin. All we need is Rhi to come stab Xaden in the heart with a very special stake and he will be cured! (Sorry for those who haven't read that series. GO READ IT!!!)

The plot line is very depressing as Violet doesn't accomplish anything besides getting married and we don't even get the scene despite having multiple POVs by the end of the book. I am interested to see if Xaden dies next book or if Halden presses his luck anymore.

Speaking of Halden, did anyone else think that no prince should act like that at a diplomatic meeting? It's ridiculous and hard to imagine.

Would love to hear your thoughts! Until next time...

[valyrfia]

Oooooh I would love to hear your anti-romantacy thoughts (because same)

If you feel like sharing I will be sat

So, first little lore dump is I used to be a huge anti SJM person back pre-covid before SJM became uber popular like she is today and ACOTAR sparked this whole romantasy saturation. My negative review of Empire of Storms on goodreads was its own little corner-of-the-internet-controversy back in the day because I was like.....(SPOILERS FOR THRONE OF GLASS SERIES UNTIL THE PARAGRAPH BREAK) Rowan and Aelin came out of nowhere! This is bullshit! Manon is a lesbian! Dorian and Chaol are obviously in love! This magic system doesn't make sense! Why are these characters that meant so much to me as a teenager suddenly caricatures! Why is this world a bad patchwork of every other fantasy story ever!

I feel like 16 year old me didn't quite know how to explain why these things were bad or what the root problems were, but now seeing these root problems repeated widely across a genre....I can summarise in a list. I can go into greater detail if I won't bore anyone, but to sum it up:

Heteronormative as hell. This is my major complaint. Most romance in romantasy reads as thinly veiled conservative propaganda. Plus the weird insistence on using the words "males" and "females"

Bad FANTASY as a whole. Fantasy is my favourite genre because done right you can fold a whole lot of real world observations about our own society into it. Or, if you're Brandon Sanderson, you can write excellent magic systems based around rules and drawbacks. Super Special Girl meets Bad Boy and they have the most specialist powers ever doesn't do it for me really.

Following on: extremely dumbed down plots. Fantasy is about weaving elaborate plots together under a new system of rules, Romantasy is all about the romance. Don't worry about plots, just don't.

Blatant plagiarism absolutely everywhere? Every single book with dragons/wyverns from the past ten years needs to start paying some sort of monetary contribution back to the Eragon series and Dragonriders of Pern.

Really REALLY weird attitudes about race/class/beauty if you start looking at it too head on.

I am a girl with a deep love for ao3 and a fairly active account but it needs to be said.....a lot of these people who exclusively read romantasy have porn addictions. You know how depressing it is to see a favourite fantasy book of yours be rated low because "no spice" or "spice wasn't good enough". Like the spice is only one possible way of flavouring a delicious meal, I think we need to learn to embrace the vanilla too as a society.

The marketing of it is also just disturbing. And it is encroaching big time on fantasy as a genre rather than just accepting that it can be its own thing. Fourth Wing is NOT proper high fantasy, don't make me laugh. Talk to my copy of Priory of the Orange Tree please.

People can enjoy romantasy of course I won't hold it against them, it's just more an absolute hatred for the genre and people reading it refuse to engage with it critically when fantasy as a genre has ALWAYS been a mirror to our own society. Also, returning to my first bullet point, it's just mind-boggling heteronormative slop most of the time. Instead of trying to build a romance that can compel me, most romantasy authors are perfectly happy to go "she was a slight and slender and specially magically powerful girl, he was a hunk of a man, can I make it any more obvious?" and leave it at that.

[duchessonfire]

Savior Carl!AU re-read Part 1 Chapter 1

In honor of the Savior Carl!AU celebrating its fourth birthday this week (on Thursday 9th to be precise), I'm re-reading the whole series with a running commentary for anyone who might be interested in it. If you're not interested and don't want to have your dashboard spammed, you can block the tags Duchess reads and Savior Carl AU reread.

Commentary for Part 1, Ch 1 below the cut (spoilers for part 1 ahead):

First of all, it always blows my mind that I never realized the first thing Negan says to Carl in the Savior AU is... that he finds Carl hot. I wish I was kidding but this is literally what Negan says to Shane when he offers himself and Carl as Saviors:

"Hey, no offense, big guy. That's a good looking kid you have here, must take after his mama, that's all."

Like... That man noticed Carl the second he laid eyes on him. Iconic. And as if that wasn't enough, Negan throws in another compliment about Carl's eyes:

"Same goes for you, kid, if you don't want Lucille to bash your head in, eyes first. She likes ‘em baby blues, and you're just her favorite shade."

Jesus, Negan, just go down on one knee and propose, why don't you.

Something that's also hitting me as I'm re-reading the chapter is how frayed Carl and Shane's relationship already is when the story starts:

As Carl lies on his bare mattress in the Saviors' compound, Shane sleeping soundlessly on the bed, he reminds himself that it all rests on him. Shane is a gun always ready to go off. As long as Carl can point him in the right direction, it can all be alright. It has to be.

Shane lets Carl sleep on a bare mattress on the floor like a dog at his feet, while Carl thinks of Shane as a weapon he can use for his own survival. They are both dehumanizing the other, seeing the other as a mere tool. Shane's death at the end of part 1 was inevitable and all the elements for it are foreshadowed from the beginning:

Suddenly, Carl doesn't just long for his gun, he longs for a knife. A machete. A hatchet. This is the man who killed Abraham. This is the man who killed Glenn. Suddenly, he longs for a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

It's especially telling that Carl already wants to wield the bat (even if here he's thinking about killing Negan with it). I think it's Chandler Riggs who mentioned in an interview that when Carl sees the Sanctuary for the first time with Negan, part of him is attracted by the power Negan has. This is very much present here. Carl already wants *to be* Negan here, to have the same power he has, to be able to inflict pain and vengeful retribution the same way Negan did in the clearing.

Okay but now that we've talked about Negan's first words to Carl, we need to talk about Carl's first words to Negan:

After spending all day being shown around the Sanctuary, after being fed and brought to a cozy room with a kitchen area and a comfy bed, Carl feels the sudden need to correct him. "He's not really my dad."

AKA, "Should you want to be my new daddy, just know that this slot if available" lmao

Okay no, but for real, this is especially interesting that Carl's first words to Negan are used to distanciate himself from Shane. This is due to what happened at the clearing. Shane was humiliated, brought low on his knees, submitted by a more powerful Alpha male. And here, this is Carl distanciating himself from Shane's defeat. In my mind, Carl is a sub craving male authority and power. He needs to be by the side of the most powerful man around, it's how he feels safe and protected in the apocalypse. He needs to be under the wing of someone stronger to protect himself and baby Lori. Until the clearing, this used to be Shane. But the second Negan entered the picture and made Shane kneel, Carl's allegiances shifted, whether or not he's aware of it. This moment is Carl sending Negan a very important subtext: "We both know Shane lost, and I need you to know I'm not like him, I'm not a loser." This Carl is a savage and I love him forever.

"Then why in the hell are you calling him that? Fuck, wait, tell me this ain't some kinky baby/daddy shit. A few of my wives call me that and I'd really like to be able to get laid without thinking about Shane's ugly mug while I'm balls deep in pussy."

Right, Negan, because that's the most logical explanation and the first one your brain should arrive at. It's for sure not related to the fact that you think the kid is hot. This being the first thing that comes to mind is no doubt purely a coincidence and not at all fueled by your already raging lust for him. God, he was probably thinking about tumbling Carl on the bed right here and then in Carl's new room.

Back on a more serious note, it blows my mind how much foreshadowing there is in chapter 1 (yes, I know I wrote it, but sometimes I realize something is foreshadowing *after* writing it):

“I’m not leaving you alone with these people,” Shane says darkly once she’s closed the door and her footsteps have receded down the hallway. “They’re trying to split us up. Weaken us. We won’t let them.”

This is almost prophetic. Shane knew exactly what Negan would try to do because it's what *he* would do. Divide and conquer. But Shane here is only thinking in physical terms: separating Carl from him physically so the Saviors have them isolated and can easily be overpowered. He didn't realize Negan would be driving a wedge between them by connecting with Carl. And by the time he did, it was too late to stop it from happening.

Conclusion; tldr: I really like this chapter. It's short, compact, non-linear, and yet everything is already here. The frayed relationship between Shane and Carl, Negan's interest in Carl, Carl's interest in Negan, Carl's utter loyalty for his little sister and no one else's. My favorite thing, though, has to be the ending with the boat. I'm really really happy that I thought of taking this element that was part of Rick and Aaron's storyline and that I managed to use it as a test of loyalty for Negan to put Carl and Shane through. Not to toot my own horn, but I'm proud of myself on this one. I love playing with canon and reusing it in a different way.

Also, I mentioned in my 2024 fic wrap Tumblr post that when I first posted this story on AO3, the engagement with it was very low and the Cegan fandom was pretty much dead. To give you an idea, I posted chapter 1 on January 9th and didn't receive a comment until January 14th. The second comment was posted almost a month later in early February (by no one other than the wonderful @reallygreatblogname222!!). It took me a month to get 2 comments on this fic and I didn't get another one until June, 6 months after posting. As discouraging as it can be to write a fic with very low engagement, always remember to find the joy in your own writing and to persevere regardless of what sort of feedback you get on it. 4 years later, Part 1 has over 900 kudos and 151 comments. None of it would have been possible if I had let myself be discouraged and stopped posting before finishing the story. It takes time to build a community but know that your people will find you eventually <3

PS: boy did I love commas back then. I'm cleaning them up as I re-read the chapter but, wow, 2021 Duchess, ease up on the punctuation.

You can find the commentary for chapter 2 here.

[nothanksehh]

When We Meet Again- Chapter 4

NOTE: This series contains major spoilers for Fourth Wing and Iron Flame. Read at your own risk. There is a slight bit of spice to this chapter in the form of a dream/memory. Enjoy.

Being bonded to another rider because your dragons are mated is not something I can recommend. It's not like you can ensure the dragon you bond to isn't mated.

It's just another person that you have to look out for besides yourself. Niamh is great, but I worried more than I want to admit about making it to graduation at all. Don't tell Niamh I said that.

- Page 57, The Book of Brennan

 The weekend during the first part of Squad Battles ensures that I have a little free time for once. While the whole college is getting ready, the professors tend to group off and gossip about what squads they think will win that year. I remember when our squad had won, all of the professors let us know they bet on us. Not because I was that strong at that point, no my signet was still fighting back at any chance it could. It was because we had Brennan the tactician, the brilliant. His nicknames went on and on. All they served to do was inflate his already huge ego. 

The staff kitchens were far quieter than normal as I gathered my breakfast. I like being able to bring my meals to my rooms so I don't have to interact with the usual group of professors that gather at the tables here. Today they are, thankfully, empty. I grab a seat in the corner with my back to the wall, eating slowly and combing the pages of Brennan's book. Most of his advice has been pretty good so far, I can see why Mira and Violet would succeed here. Being able to glimpse a part of his soul again has been priceless. Eild has let me stew in my thoughts more than usual lately, but I can imagine me being back at Basgiath and reliving all of my closest moments about Brennan and Marbh would be harder for her. 

I hear footsteps approach and I just manage to get the book into my jacket before they enter. Devera enters and goes about her business, not even noticing that I am here. I continue to eat quietly and she finally sees me when she looks for a place to sit. 

"Major Leannan, I didn't even see you there. How are you?" she asks. 

"Captain Devera, I am doing alright. You? How are lessons this week?" I ask her as she sits across from me at my table. Out of all of the riders in teaching positions at Basgiath, Devera has been my favorite by far. She helped me get my footing during the first few months while I adjusted to being a professor. Her companionship during the slow moments has been nice as well. 

She grumbles as she stuffs her mouth full of eggs and sausage and I laugh.

"The week of Squad Battles panic setting in hard, then?" 

"Absolutely," she grunts, "The only cadets that show any restraint are the third years and Violet Sorrengail. Everyone else is so wrapped up in their thoughts about winning that they don't care about the current events and battles right now. I can't wait for it to be done."

I chuckle, "I can imagine that almost perfectly."

"Listen," she starts, "I meant to speak with you today a little later about something but it is private. Would you have a minute to give me?"

"Of course, would you rather meet in my rooms or yours?" I ask her.

"Mine, not that I don't want to go to yours, but I believe in my sound shield, and my sound shield only." 

Well alright, then.

The bells have just sounded 11 at night when I reach Devera's door and knock twice. She opens it and lets me in after looking down the hall to make sure no one sees. I can only imagine that what she has to say is going to be mind-blowing for it to warrant me not being seen by anyone entering her room.

Once inside, Devera locks the door and I turn to her, "Well Devera, if this is your way of asking me to sleep with you I should let you know that my conscious would never allow me to sleep with a colleague."

She lets out a laugh louder than what I am used to and moves to a small seating area in the corner of her room. I take the chair to her right and she hands me a cup of tea. "Leannan, if I wanted to sleep with you we would have done it already and you would have no worries about if we were colleagues or not." We smile at each other and she continues, "No, I wanted to talk with you about something serious and before I start I need to ask you for a secret of your own to ensure that what is said in this room goes nowhere."

"You need one of my secrets? How secret are we talking? What my favorite color panties is level secret or something like where I hide the bodies of the men I eat for dinner?" Secret dealing isn't something new to me. At Samara, it was used as a form of currency for those who were in the business of doing favors. 

"Oh men murdering badassery level for sure."

I think for a minute about what I would be willing to share with her. I trust Devera, but not at the level where I would be comfortable with her knowing the extent of my signet abilities. 

"The only reason I came to teach here was to honor a promise to Brennan that I made as he died. I would watch after his sisters no matter what and during Threshing this year I almost stepped in against regulation to save Violet Sorrengail from being murdered."

She smiles at me conspiratorially, "Good. I assumed that is why you came and it's good to know someone is watching out for that girl." 

Devera reiterates that nothing that is said in her rooms can leave it at any point. 

"I understand, Devera. Now tell me what's going on?"

She laughs darkly, "You aren't going to believe me at first, but listen closely all the same." She says and then proceeds to drop the biggest fucking bomb of all time.

Venin and wyvern are real. I sit in stunned silence after Devera talks about what has been happening in the world for thirty minutes straight. I don't want to believe it but I remember Brennan talking about the stories his dad used to tell him when he and his siblings were growing up. I remember my mom telling me that venin were going to suck my soul out if I didn't clean my room. She was a dark woman, but being a rider for as long as she was will do that to you.

It hits me then that all of the lives lost during the Rebellion were for nothing. They were all fighting to get us to acknowledge the venin and the real war we are in. Instead, they chose to sacrifice the lives of so many to protect their stupid fucking secret. To sacrifice Brennan. My blood instantly boils and it takes a good minute before I can calm down enough to form a coherent thought.

"Why now?"

She understands what I mean and says, "Because last night, I overheard Colonel Markham talking about how he finally got clearance for you to let you in on the big news. Only, I knew how you would react when you found out and they kill anyone who doesn't conform to the scheme they've harbored all these lifetimes. I knew that you wouldn't be able to hide your initial feelings about it in the moment. Hell, even I struggled when the bastard told me. I am just thankful they didn't have a truth-sayer with them like they do now. They bring her in when they tell someone new about it so they can't lie their way around it."

Oh shit. If I don't get my shit together before they tell me I am going to be fucked. "Thank you for telling me before they did. You're right. I never would have been able to conceal what I was feeling in the moment. I am not even sure I will be able to when they come to tell me."

Devera grimaces. "I know that half-truths work with truth-sayers. All you have to do is skirt around the answer and you should be fine. As smart as the scribes think they are, they are over-confident when they have a powerful signet around."

That is good to know. At least if I end up having to use my signet on them it doesn't guarantee they will notice. As far as anyone knows, I can only affect up to 10 at a time with my signet and only one aspect of the signet at a time. What they don't know is that there are no fucking limits to it. I trained so diligently that I can hold the minds of one hundred souls and inflict whatever I want on them. If leadership knew how powerful I had trained my signet to be I would have been put to death long ago. All this means is that I am going to have to come up with one hell of a plan if this goes south.

I think she can tell how much I am overthinking it because she offers to be there and vouch for me when they tell me tomorrow. "Are you sure? That is a big risk. I don't want you involved if it is going to get you killed alongside me."

"I think that I have put up with enough bullshit around here that I am jumping ship at the first sign of the next rebellion. If that means I fuck shit up and leave with you tomorrow or whenever it is doomed to happen in the future, it doesn't matter to me in the slightest."

I start laughing so hard at the strangeness of the situation that I can't stop. Must be contagious because Devera joins in and it takes a good while before we are sane again. We talk for a few hours about life and battles and everything in between and it makes me realize that I haven't lived much since Brennan left. All 6 years he has been gone I can't remember feeling this at peace. I know it won't last long but I breathe a little easier tonight.

I know for a fact that Brennan's room in the 3rd year dorms will never see more disrepair than this moment. Clothes and boots and daggers and blades are scattered along the floor haphazardly, I even think my desk chair has been tipped on its side. However, as I look around, I can't bring myself to care. I turn my head to get comfortable again and Brennan grumbles beneath me. 

"I'm sorry, Wingleader Sorrengail. Did I disturb you?" I ask him sarcastically.

He chuckles and flips me over onto my back as he positions himself on top of me. It's too easy for me to get lost in the expanse of his bare chest, his defined abs, that v that leads right to what I want most at the moment. 

"Getting distracted, Nia?" He asks as he nips at my neck. 

"Of course I am, have you seen yourself?" 

He meets my eyes before licking up the expanse of my exposed throat, running that damned tongue across my lower lip and biting. His head lowers to mine and we meet in a kiss that is more carnal need than it is sweet and loving. My hands move to reach for the throbbing length of him but he grabs my wrists and puts them above my head, trapping them there. 

"This wasn't supposed to turn into sex again," he clicks his tongue at me in disapproval. 

"That isn't fair, you started it this time. How am I supposed to control myself when you...well, when you act like you?" It's an honest question, ever since Brennan and I slept together for the first time last year we haven't been able to keep our hands off each other. 

"Hmm," he mumbles in agreement, "Good point." 

I tip my head back and expose my neck for him, knowing he will take advantage of my weak spot. He doesn't disappoint me as he peppers gentle, open-mouthed kisses across it, leaving me breathless. I think I hear a knock sound in the distance somewhere, and I am about to question it when Brennan wedges his thigh between my legs.

"W-what are you doing? I thought you didn't want this to turn into sex?" I ask him. He needs to get his priorities straight otherwise we are going to be here all night...again. 

He meets my gaze and releases my wrists to grip my hips, he tugs me across the length of his thigh and I moan. "Okay, so we're fucking. Got it." I say in a whisper and he laughs.

When he looks at me next, it's almost as if the edges of him are fading. "Don't hold back, Niamh. I want everyone in this hall to know you are fucking your newly-appointed Wingleader on the first night in his new room."

His words are so dirty, but he did earn himself a new title and I will be damned if I don't take the opportunity he's offering. 

"Oh, so you think that you have earned a reward?" I ask in as strong a voice as I can manage while I grind my hips down on him. 

Brennan reaches down and pinches my nipple and I wake to a very real knock at my door. My breaths are rapid as I try to calm myself from the memory of that night. I open the door and see Devera on the other side, I pull her through my bedroom wards and she laughs at my appearance. 

"What the hell were you doing alone that has you all sweaty and bothered? Actually, I take that back, don't answer. I don't want to know." I laugh so hard I snort and she looks at me like I have gone crazy. "But really, are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost?"

I debate not answering, but not being honest with people all these years has taken a toll on me and I really do like Devera. Plus it's not like I could have said anything to Mira when we were together. There is no way that I was talking to either of Brennan's sisters about how much his death tore me apart. "I don't even know anymore, Devera. I have dreams and nightmares about Brennan constantly and I feel like I am physically in pain when I wake from them."

A look of sympathy crosses her face before she masks it, she knows I wouldn't want her pity. "If you ever need to talk about it, I am here for you. I know we aren't the closest but I hope you know I won't judge anything that you are going through. Losing someone in your squad is painful enough... but losing Brennan, your bonded, I can only imagine how much worse it is." I agree with a nod of my head and feel the crippling grief try to take over but I push it back down. I hate having to use my signet on myself but it is the only way I have survived this long. 

We sit in silence for a few minutes before Devera asks me to join her in the Battle Brief room tonight after Squad Battle sparring matches are over and when I agree, she leaves me with my thoughts. I don't want to open up the can of worms that will lead to me bawling in the middle of my room first thing in the morning so I go for a run and ignore it like always. What a way to start the day.

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for being patient while life gets some good shots in on me. I know this chapter is a little short but I wanted to put one out there so you all know that I am still continuing this story. Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

[hylialeia]

thoughts on the Daevabad Trilogy, short version: holy shit that was good

longer version:

holy shit that was good.

I adored the writing style, the imagery, the worldbuilding, the characters, the character dynamics, and the pacing all the way through. I first picked up this series because of how Global Medievalism talked about it as a stepping stone away from Eurocentric medieval fantasy and it definitely delivered. this is tied with Spinning Silver for my favorite recent reads--which is even more impressive since SS was a standalone, meanwhile this series kept up a consistently high quality across three separate books.

after Fourth Wing masquerading as a rich, complex adult fantasy and then being What It Actually Was, this was an immensely satisfying series to pick up. it skirts the fantasy staple of the Inherently Evil Race/Species that so many works fall into (even asoiaf with the Others) and instead opts to explore in-depth religious and racial prejudices, revolutions, bigotry, power, and privilege in ways that can be frightening for a lot of authors (and readers). I can see why this series would frustrated a large swath of fantasy fans and not just because it steps completely away from the Europe-but-slightly-to-the-left settings that they're so familiar with; people looking for escapism and a palatable black-and-white conflict definitely wouldn't find it here.

that said, I also think the narrative did a fantastic job of showcasing the brutality of oppression, as well as cycles of revenge and violence, without turning into a sermon about how anyone who fights back is Just As Bad as the oppressor. you can sympathize with any faction within the trilogy while still seeing that there's a clear hierarchy. this is a series that asks the reader to be open minded and to sympathize with a variety of people's suffering while still condemning heinous actions, crimes, and ways of thinking. portrayals of violence, swearing, and sex aside, this is where I believe the adult label is earned. the Daevabad Trilogy outshines Fourth Wing in its entirety, actually following through on promises of depth, complexity, and exploration.

I don't think the series reaches into absolutely flawless territory; on reflection, there are a lot of scenes I wish we'd seen happening in the moment rather than summarized or briefly flashed back to. this goes especially for the end of the last book, Empire of Gold, which would have enhanced the pacing quite a bit. there's a bit of rushing through the final battle, and though it's still quite fantastic and follows through on a deal of foreshadowing and character build-up, it definitely feels over too soon. there are also a few loose ends and potential conflicts when it comes to the characters themselves that the series felt too tired to actually flesh out by the end. I can forgive that chiefly because of just how well-rounded and consistent the characters themselves are, even despite those instances.

and holy shit did I adore these characters. I've only seen the barest tip of the iceberg of discourse this series caused (which I'm sure was insane when it first came out), but thankfully the 10 million+ Way More Problematic Characters (that I also love) in asoiaf has made me immune to whatever the hell was going on over there. I also couldn't get involved in a ship war if you paid me.

I think the first book made a good call only having Nahri and Ali's POVs not just from a technical standpoint (Dara's POV wouldn't have added much, and may have even spoiled some meaningful twists) but also in priming the reader for what is the heart of the entire trilogy: their dynamic. Nahri and Ali carry the series whether they're young, platonic best friends who should be enemies, awkward ex-friends who still get a long way too well, or best friends who are deeply in love which each other but too traumatized to admit it. they both stand incredibly well as individuals (evidenced by the fact that they don't even meet until over the halfway mark in the first book), with Ali being a particular favorite of mine from the very beginning. their opposite upbringings yet similar interests made them a fantastic duo, one where it made sense the impact each one would have on the other's journey. there's something so incredibly endearing about their inability to legitimately dislike each other despite their circumstances, one that makes sense based on their already established personalities; they propel the series' most meaningful moments.

for the elephant in the room: as frustrating as Dara's POV could be I found it a worthy and fascinating addition in the later books, one that I think a lot of people missed the weight of if they were too busy excusing him/hating him. his perspective, biased and misguided as it often was, provided so much rich exploration of the trilogy's overall themes: militarism, religious fanaticism, prejudice, free will, just war, revolution, cycles of violence, conditioning and abuse, etc. that so much of this seemed to fall to the wayside in a strive to decide if he was excusable or not (and thus a viable love interest or not) is a huge shame. his ending was, to me, profoundly satisfying; not redeemed but finally allowed to act of his own free will, no longer bound by outside magic or internalized religious obligation. I never violently disliked Dara and Nahri's romantic entanglement so much as I knew it was doomed from the moment Ali had a POV chapter.

the secondary characters were no less engaging for me, especially as their prominence grew throughout the books, antagonists or otherwise. it was refreshing to see Muntadhir and Jamshid's individual characters (and thus their relationship) become a more prominent aspect of the story--again, especially after the tokenism in Fourth Wing. side characters always seemed to have deeper personalities and roles to play, with even early character deaths like Anas having lasting impacts for our main POVs. their presence was as vital to the immersion and depth of the world as much as the setting and imagery--which are also aspects that completely blew me away. from character, technical, to thematic standpoints, the Daevabad Trilogy absolutely amazed me.

final thoughts and rating: if you give me a book where two married characters are in love with the other's brother and expect me not to give it a high rating you're insane. 8/10. maybe even 9/10. go read these books.

[vintagestarlight]

Should I start writing again?

It’s been sooo long since I have written anything but…..the Empyrean Series has me in an absolute chokehold. I’ve been crafting an OC and have been putting together some fan fiction ideas around that. I’ve also been thinking of some character x reader ideas too! I haven't written anything for fourth wing before but I’m thinking about starting to write for it! Would anyone be interested in reading that??👀 Let me know in the poll below!💞

[sexypantsriorson-na]

HELP! I THINK I'M DUMB!

*****SPOLIERS FOR FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME BELOW****

I read this Rebecca Yarros x Variety interview (https://variety.com/2023/tv/news/iron-flame-spoilers-rebecca-yarros-fourth-wing-tv-series-interview-1235781877/) after listening to it recommended several times in an episode of Fantasy Fangirls Podcast. The question I included confused me and I just can't figure it out.... lol (I think maybe it is the way RY's response is worded idek) so naturally I came here in hope someone else can explain what they think it means to me or we can chit chat about wtf is going on...

So obviously I get and appreciate the part where RY says Xaden is not in love with Violet just based on Brennans stories. The part that confused me was the "He’s a kid. And he loves Brennan. He doesn’t know Mira. If he has one chance at revenge, it’s Violet. And not only is Violet his chance for revenge, but the mother has just taken that chance away from him. So naturally, his instinct because he doesn’t know Violet and he does know Brennan — and I would hope that if someone knew my sister, they would care for me, but they wouldn’t know me."

So is RY saying that he wanted to kill Violet the first time he saw her/ realized who she was on the parapet as revenge for what her mother did (despite the fact that he "loves" Brennan - maybe his hatred of Lilith out weighs his love for Brennan?) but couldn't because of the deal he made with her? So then what does that statement "So naturally, his instinct because he doesn’t know Violet and he does know Brennan — and I would hope that if someone knew my sister, they would care for me, but they wouldn’t know me" mean? Is he going to try and make not killing her more bearable by telling himself its for Brennan...??? is that what is going on? is that what she means?

And then if were gonna take it a step further there are several statements throughout both books when Xaden tells Violet (or the reader during his POV chapter) that he has loved her longer then she realizes, he has always been hers, yada yada yada. Obviously they were attracted to each other atop the turret - they both admit that. Then in Iron Flame he tells Violet (when speaking about Cat) that you don't have to like someone to fuck them.

So from this article/ RY's answer to this questions in combination with pros from the books were supposed to think that Xaden wanted to kill Violet because of his hatred for Lilith despite the fact that he loves Brennan (and Brennan, like everyone else who knows Violet (including their mother who put her in the riders quadrant for the exact reason that she would make the choice to go against Navarre once she found out the Fables of the Barren were indeed NOT fables and be killed for it in the scribes) believes she will make the right choice when the time comes, and I would assume if Xaden told Brennan about the favor his mom called in would have told Xaden the same) so he keeps Violet alive because of the deal with her mom but also out of respect and love for Brennan and ends up falling for her on an emotional level (since it is made very clear he is physically attracted to her from day one) along the way......?????????????

Is this what RY is saying???? I'm just very confused and of course, like Violet, I was gutted when I found out he only kept her alive because of the deal with her mom and likely would have killed her (loving Brennan or not) had she not called in the favor.

What is anyone else thoughts!? Please converse I'm begging!!!