#her have to let go of the possibility of rita ever coming back

[heirofnight]

five more sets

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

based on this request: Can I request something? Could it be Azriel x reader and either you are Illyrian and want to learn to fight or someone who joins the Valkyries and you get to know each other through training ?? Does that make sense?

warnings: talks of alcohol consumption, feeling sick, sexual tension

a/n: this is probably going to end up being a mini-series because i'm loving the dynamic & i'd love to see where i can take this as it progresses! let me know what you think, and thank you for the request <3

you were about three seconds away from throwing a right hook into this male's jaw.

your chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and you were fairly certain that you could fill a bucket with the sweat that was accumulating underneath your training leathers. it was a viciously hot summer day in velaris, and you were really not in the mood to train - especially considering your indulgent night out at rita's that only found you returning home ... four hours ago.

you flickered your eyes up towards him, his wings were flared - your gaze was narrowed, your cheeks were flushed, and you were pissed.

you were hunched over, hands resting on your thighs as you fought to catch your breath.

azriel watched you carefully. he was so composed, as though he could perform this training regime in his sleep. his eyes flashed with amusement at your disheveled and agitated state, and that alone almost actually made you punch him.

"up," he ordered, voice firm, "another five sets of ladder drills," he nodded his chin towards the rope ladder that was spread on the ground in the middle of the training ring. you were meant to sprint across the ladder as quickly as possible, pulling your knees towards your chest as you did so.

you scoffed, standing up straight to place your hands on your hips indignantly.

"listen," you started, unfazed by his stoic demeanor, "i'm hot, i'm exhausted, and i'm still partially drunk," you finished, hoping he'd allow you to just call this entire session off early.

it'd been three weeks since nesta had convinced you to join the valkyries. you'd met her at a bookstore in the rainbow about six months ago, and had become fast friends - bonding over a similar taste in novels, and a very similar no-bullshit attitude. this facet of your personality was coming out to play today, especially as this male continued to push you to your limits when you obviously were not in the best shape.

she'd divulged information about the female clan of warriors that she'd been a part of, and you couldn't help but be interested - but she'd warned that the training regiment would be intense.

"you'll be training with azriel," she'd mentioned before your first session two weeks ago, "good luck," was the only warning she gave before you'd stepped foot into the ring to stand before the largest male you'd ever seen. he was swathed in shadows that rippled from him like smoke, and he assessed you as though he was committing your body to memory.

he then proceeded to put your ass through the wringer, and it seemed like he was having fun doing it.

you continued to watch azriel with a leveled gaze this morning, hoping to the gods that your list of reasons to cut this session short would hit home.

azriel just blinked once, shrugging his broad shoulders, "and?," he grumbled, as though he didn't understand why you'd divulged that information.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to your sides, "and, i'd like to leave now," you sneered, pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

he smirked at your words, but there was minimal humor behind the action.

"no," he stated simply, "we still have another half hour," he continued, nodding back towards the rope ladder once more.

you bristled, annoyed by azriel's utter obsession with pushing your buttons - he'd been thoroughly enjoying riling you up since you became his training partner. he reveled in the reactions you'd give him each time he pushed you to your snapping point.

you turned on your heels and stalked towards the center of the wing, preparing to take on another five sets of this hellish exercise.

you assumed your stance on one end of the ladder, taking a deep breath, and then -

"perhaps you should learn to break the habit of drinking the night before an early training session," he mused, arms crossed across his chest. that stupid smirk had found its way to his full lips again, and if he weren't so annoying, you'd probably find his current stance sexy.

you glowered in his direction, and his smirk only grew. was that a dimple? gods alive.

"perhaps you should mind your own business," you spat, beginning the first set of ladder drills. you huffed, puffed, and your legs felt like they were going to give out beneath you.

azriel watched intently the entire time, and he'd deny it if he were ever asked, but he thought your ass looked delectable in your training leathers.

he cleared his throat, forcing himself to break his less than innocent train of thought.

"knees higher," he commanded, voice steady.

your temper flared but you complied, straightening your form and lifting your knees.

"there you go," he praised, "very good," his voice had lowered marginally, and you felt your cheeks grow even hotter at the sound.

you struggled your way through the last three sets, dizzy and stomach roiling. i'm never drinking again, you cursed to yourself.

you were adamant about ending training now, you didn't care what qualms azriel may have about it. you hobbled towards the black stretching mat, not giving the male even a fraction of a chance to add some other hell-sent workout to this morning's agenda.

az followed, stopping near the edge of the mat to peer down at your exhausted frame.

"that's it then?," he rumbled, huffing out an amused breath through his nose as he observed you.

you covered your eyes with the back of your arm, inhaling deep breaths through your nose. you didn't deign to give him an answer, choosing instead to focus on not spilling the contents of your stomach all over his feet.

he sighed, lowering on his knees before you to assist you with your stretching. he wrapped a firm, scarred hand around your left ankle, pulling your leg straight in order to begin working on your hamstrings.

you groaned, wincing through the pain that was shooting through your legs and lower back. azriel watched intently, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was knelt between your leather-clad legs.

this part was always the hardest for him - the part where he had to divert his attention literally anywhere else to avoid imagining what else he could do to you in positions very similar to this.

your eyes met his form, watching him carefully. the beaming sunlight allowed you to admire the glistening sheen against his golden skin, the freckles smattered across his cheeks and nose. his boyish curls that fell against his forehead and tucked around the nape of his neck.

the light was caressing his skin, almost as if it couldn't help but touch him. you couldn't blame it. azriel was the prettiest male you had ever seen.

he lifted your leg straight, scooting closer to rest your calve against his hard chest. his hips were pressed into your thighs now, and you had to clear your throat to distract yourself from the feeling.

he sensed the tension, and it almost made a smug smile creep across his features, but he refrained.

this was such a common theme between the both of you: he'd annoy you on purpose, you'd react, he'd revel in it. so much tension, and you both knew it. as soon as the both of you were close enough to share the same space, you'd falter, and he'd try his damndest to not do the same.

his hips accidentally jutted against yours as he switched to your right leg, and you'd had to close your eyes to avoid scooting down in order to prolong the contact.

gods, you'd thought to yourself, i'm so fucked.

"you're so tight," he'd mumbled mostly to himself, working his hands against a knot in your leg. your eyes snapped open immediately - you'd pay hefty amounts of gold to hear him utter that phrase again.

and of course, smug-ass azriel knew exactly what he was doing.

a/n: will this end up being a series? probably. i can't help myself. let me know what you think!

[willieverseetheland]

mama?

Dexter Morgan x reader

based on this ask!

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, violence, domestic violence, all the usual Dexter stuff, very much angst Summary: Following Rita’s death, Dexter and reader become close as they deal with the aftermath.

It was a quiet evening. You were sitting on your balcony watching the full, glowing moon. You were deep in thought when your phone began to ring, pulling you back to reality. The caller ID said Dexter Morgan, you thought this was strange as he and Rita were supposed to have left on their honeymoon. Maybe they decided not to bring Harrison along after all. But when you answered, it was a woman's voice.

"Hello? This is Debra Morgan with Miami Metro Homicide, is this y/n?"

"Yes?" You replied with a slight quiver in your voice, confused. Homicide? What is happening? "There's been an incident, Dexter thought you should know. However, he's preoccupied at the moment. Rita..."

Her voice begins to shake, you can sense that she's about to cry

"Um, Rita's been murdered, I understand you two were close."

It was like the entire world stopped. Murdered? Rita was the loveliest, sweetest, most pure-of-heart person you knew. Who would possibly have wanted to hurt her?

The phone slipped out of your hand. Thankfully you were already sitting down, or you may have fell off your balcony. You can hear the woman repeating "hello, are you there?" over the phone. But everything was static. Nothing made sense. As it all began to settle into place, what really happened. You let out a loud sob. Shaking violently, tears streaming down your face. You bang your fist on the ground, screaming. Angry at the world, or whatever higher power that existed. As you sat there and sobbed, you began to think about Harrison, Dexter, Astor, Cody, everyone else who knew and loved Rita. God! Poor Harrison. He hardly got to know his mother.

You think of all the times you saved Rita from Paul. All the late nights scared it would be the last time. Scared, because you didn't know when it would be the last punch, kick, slap. There were honestly times you thought he would kill her. You thought you had prepared yourself for this, but how could you, how could anyone. When he died, you were there to support Rita of course, but deep down you were glad. You saw first-hand how he treated her, how it affected the kids.

Rita was like a sister to you. You considered yourself like an aunt to those kids. A piece of you died today, something you don't know if you'll ever get back.

--

You were awoken by the sound of loud honking. You open your eyes to see the bright morning sun over Miami. It made you angry, how could the world go on when yours came crashing down less than 24 hours ago. You look around, you must've cried yourself into exhaustion and passed out on your balcony.

You go back inside. Your cat comes up to nudge your leg. You look down at him and he just stares at you and meows. You wish you could be like him, blissfully unaware of all the evil in the world.

You go to make a pot of coffee, but you just collapse on the floor of your kitchen. How can you go on? Rita is dead. Harrison, Astor, and Cody just lost their mother. Dexter lost his wife. And yet the world keeps spinning. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, it's your boss. You look at the time, you were supposed to be at work an hour ago.

"Fuck" you sigh, leaning your head back against your kitchen counter

You answer, telling him you won't be coming in today, death in the family. He can be a dick at times, but he's understanding when it comes to this.

You scan your apartment. Eyes settling on the picture on your bedside table. You walk over to it, picking it up. It's a photo of you, Dexter, Rita, and the kids at Rita's birthday party. You place it face down; you can't bear to look at it right now.

Dexter lingers in your mind. God! How could you be so selfish? He must be in shambles right now. Grieving the death of his wife and having to be responsible for little Harrison. Maybe you should go check on him, see Harrison. Might take your mind off of things. Or make things worse. You don't know. Either way you need to do something.

You throw on a sweater and your shoes. You know the house is likely still a crime scene so you can't go there. Dex and Harrison are probably with his sister, who conveniently lives at his old apartment, so finding the place won't be too difficult. You drive like a bat out of hell, trying to get there as fast as you can.

You arrive and knock on the door, no one answers. You knock again, still no answer. You figure nobody is home, so you turn to leave. As you start walking away, you hear the handle turn, and the door unlatch. You turn around, seeing Dexter peering out from the crack in the door. You greet him with a warm smile as he opens the door fully. You immediately lean in for a hug, which he doesn't move away from but doesn't exactly reciprocate. He just stands there with his arms at his side, stiff. He does lean his chin on your shoulder though. He sighs in relief, shoulders loosening.

"Deb called me last night, told me what happened. I know it's probably a stupid question, but how are you?" You look in his eyes, sincerity and empathy written all over your face.

He knows this is hard on you too.

"I'm doing okay, I have to, for him." He turns to look at Harrison, sleeping soundly in his crib.

You two go to sit on the couch, you place a hand on his shoulder, trying to be comforting.

"I found him sitting in a pool of her blood" He turns to look at you, face empty, exhausted.

Your hands fly to your mouth as you gasp

"Dexter, my god. I'm so sorry" Tears begin to well up in your eyes

"If it's too much you don't have to answer, but how did it happen exactly? Deb told me she was murdered, but not what happened."

"You've seen the trinity killer on the news, right?" He turns to look at you

"A single cut to her thigh, slicing the femoral artery. She bled out." His voice is steady, concise.

Anyone who didn't know Dexter would think he's unbothered, but you know this is just him. He's devastated on the inside.

"I, I uh... that's horrible, I'm sorry you had to see that." Your voice is soft, comforting.

"If it's any help, I wouldn't mind watching over Harrison for a few days, while you get the funeral things figured out. And Astor and Cody, if needed."

"They're with their grandparents, they don't know yet. They're coming back today. Thank you, that would actually be a big help." He gives you a slight smile, you can tell it's forced but you appreciate the effort.

--

The days go by, each one as painful as the previous. Everyone tells you to take it one day at a time, but nothing is changing. Nothing is getting better. Her funeral was devastating, you cried the entire time. You tried to stay strong, for the kids, but seeing her lying there, you couldn't. She looked beautiful, like she was sleeping. Astor and Cody went to stay with their grandparents in Orlando, which you know is hard on Dexter. He really loves them. You switched your hours around so you could work nights and watch Harrison during the day while Dex is at work. Harrison has been the only highlight of your life recently, one of the only things you have left of Rita. He's truly an amazing child, and thankfully he doesn't seem to be affected by what happened. You know Dexter was really concerned about that.

You've tried to be there for Dexter as well, but he hasn't been as accepting. You understand though. However, it's what Rita would want you to do. She always trusted you to take care of her family. You considered Rita to be like a sister, and it's what you would do for family.

You take Harrison back home that afternoon. Dexter has the biggest smile on his face as he takes Harrison into his arms, he's a great father and loves Harrison so much.

"How was he?" He questions

"Wonderful as always, he's such a little angel" You smile

"But the real question is, how are you, Dexter?"

"You don't have to worry about me, I'm fine" There's a hint of irritation in his voice

"Dexter, but I do worry about you. You've just suffered a great tragedy. I just want to be sure you're okay"

"I just told you I am okay, why do you care so much anyways?" He shakes his head and places Harrison in his crib

"It's what Rita would've wanted!" You exclaim

He turns around to look at you, you can see that he's distraught. Being a single parent is never easy, especially one that's grieving.

He sighs

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I really am okay, I promise" He gives you another one of his classic fake smiles, you know he doesn't want to talk about it anymore, so you don't press

"Alright, if you insist"

--

It's been almost a year since Rita's death now. You still miss her like crazy, but things have gotten easier. Harrison is walking and talking which has been very emotional, you wish Rita was here to see it. He's become a part of your regular routine now. Dexter offered to pay you to be his nanny, but you declined, quite aggressively. Dexter kept insisting but you would not accept under any circumstances. Spending all this time with Harrison has also meant spending quite a lot of time with Dexter as well. You've grown to really care for him.

One morning, you were over at Dexter's feeding Harrison breakfast. Dexter was getting ready for work. He came out of the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned. You couldn't help but stare, which made you feel guilty. You admired his hands as he swiftly fastened the buttons, his arms as he rolled up his sleeves, his sculpted chest peeking through the top of his shirt. You felt wrong. He comes over to give Harrison a kiss on the head. As he walks by, his shoulder brushes yours. You blush, in embarrassment and due to your true feelings. As you airplane another spoon of yogurt into Harrison's mouth, out comes something that shocks you to your core.

"Mama" Harrison babbles

You and Dexter immediately make eye contact. Your eyes are blown open wide, mouth agape.

"I'm so sorry, I have no idea why he would say that" You panic

"It's alright, he doesn't know any different" Dexter reassures you

You and Dexter just stand there, looking at each other. He smiles, a genuine smile this time. Something you've missed seeing.

He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. He brings his hand to your cheek and leans in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You immediately melt. You felt so guilty for feeling the way you did, falling for a man who was grieving his dead wife. You bring your hands up to hold his face. Deepening the kiss. When you pull away, you can't help but smile a big goofy grin. Dexter is smiling too, which makes your heart flutter.

You stand there in comfortable silence, before Dexter announces he has to go, and that he wants you to be here when he gets home. He kisses your cheek and leaves. Your heart feels so full. However, you still feel guilty, like you're betraying Rita, but you also feel like this is what she would want. You know her family well, and you love them like they're your own.

You lay Harrison down for a nap, kissing him on the forehead. You grab a cup of coffee and go outside. It's a chilly spring morning. As you're looking out over Miami, a white butterfly lands on your finger. A tear rolls down your, cheek. You've never been much of a spiritual person, but you know it's her, and suddenly everything starts to feel like it's going to be okay.

...

Literally almost cried while writing this, I love Rita so much. I hope I did your vision justice! Sorry it's so long lol

[nattblacklupin]

Never was much of a romantic

Pairing: Cassian x Fem! Illyrian! Reader

Warning: mention of wing clipping (just as a threat), Devlon being asshole, reader simping on Cassian, reader is described as being shorter than Devlon and Cassian, random switches in pov (like two times), little bit of angst (cassian feels like he doesn't deserve love), swear words, little bit of Nesta slander

Summary: Cassian meets you in Windhaven and sees you arguring with Devlon. Something about your fierce attitude makes him want to be closer to you.

Part two ● masterlist

Cassian was never much of a romantic. He was one night stand guy. He never felt the need to actually love someone. But later on in his life, he has been feeling more and more alone. He saw his friends find love, mates. Everybody had their own person while he was stuck alone.

He, of course, had his family, the inner circle. They would help him with anything and do anything for him. But it's not the same as having a mate. Someone to love and cherish. Someone who will see through him and know when he really isn't alright.

For a while, he thought that Nesta was his mate. But then she left the night court for autumn court, specifically for the heir of autumn court. And he was alone again.

Nesta absence took a tool on him. He really thought they were meant to be, and she even acted like it. But then one day she just left, only leaving a letter as a goodbye. That made Cassian believe he didn't have a mate. They were rare, so maybe he was meant to never find her. It was possible, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was like that. At the end of the day, he is a low born bastard who doesn't deserve anything more than his ratty tent.

Rhys sent him to Windhaven to check if everyone is being trained as commanded to. If he had any say in this, he wouldn't come here. He hated Devlon and this place. It reminded him of all the bad things that happened there when he was just a child. The only good thing about this place was when he met Rhysand with Azriel. His two brothers are the only reason he's still alive.

But he had to follow the orders of his high lord. Maybe he could go to Rita's after and enjoy the night with his family after he is done here. That thought made him feel somehow lighter. Nothing is better than night with his family.

,,I will train, and I don't care what you tell me"

Cassian immediately looked the way the voice was coming from. He saw illyrian woman standing in front of Devlon. There was a visible high difference between them, but she didn't let it affect her and continued to stand her ground. Cassian was amazed by that and decided to watch for some while. If something happened, he could help her, not that she looked like she needed it. Yet as he was standing there and seeing her arguring with a man that was nearly twice her size, he came to conclusion that maybe women in this camp could put Devlon in his place even better than he ever could.

"You should be glad that you still have your wings, I could just clip them as a punishment for your disobedience"

You just laughed in his face. "do it, and my high lord will have your head. "

Cassian heart warmed at the thought that illyrian women trust Rhys to protect them. They finally trust Rhysand enough to rely on him to protect them and punish those who hurt them.

Devlon just laughed in her face, and that somehow made Cassian mad. He didn't know why he was feeling like this. He had this uncontrollable need to protect her and to make her like him. It was the first time he ever felt like this.

"Do you mean the little princeling and his two bastards? They don't give fuck about some useless woman like yourself"

"Sadly to inform you, Lord Devlon," cassian said mockingly, "but we surely give fuck, so i suggest you to step back and let that woman be"

Cassian flared his wings to make himself the bigger threat in this situation and stepped in front of you. While the two men in front of you had their own silent battle, you couldn't help but admire Cassian.

You knew who he was. Who wouldn't know him? Yet you never seen him. Yeah, you heard stories about how he looks, but your imagination could never come up with the god that stands in front of you. His tan skin. The way his muscles flexed under his leathers. And his wings? They had little scars all over them, yet you couldn't help but admire them. They were so strong. True to his reputation, these were the wings of warrior.

He slowly turned around and you couldn't see his strong back and wings, which was slightly disappointing to you, but the moment you were met with his strong chest you wished for him to never turn around. Everything about him looked so right and hot. You looked up and saw Cassian grinning at you.

,,you alright there, sweetheart?"

Your heart started beating uncontrollably fast, and you swear that it could be heard on the other side of the Windhaven. You couldn't look away from his Hazel eyes. It was like they were holding you in their mercy and weren't planning on letting you go. Yet you still needed to answer him, to hear his voice again.

"I-" before you could finish your sentence something snapped between you two.

,,mate"

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

 No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

[siriuslystyle1989]

You're a smooth talker, fox boy.

Lucien Vanserra x Rhys sister!reader

Warnings: Drinking/alcohol consumption, kissing

Summary: After Elain rejects the mating bond, Lucien needs a drink. Y/n is bored and never turns down a drink so volunteers to go with him to Rita's.

Masterlist

Y/n had a pretty... on and off love life. Yes, she would occasionally have guys in her bed but never for very long and she hadn't had a consistent male in her life since before Amaranthas reign fell upon Prythian.

Hence her surprise when she found herself enjoying talking to none other than Lucien Vanserra. A male she had many times labelled as boring and not worth her time.

Since arriving in the night court with Feyre, Lucien had made many dire attempts to speak to his mate, Elain however, unfortunately for him, such attempts were met with nothing more than a polite smile from the girl.

And when Azriel had begun to court Elain, Lucien had practically given up all hope of ever being able to accept the bond.

This is how Y/n and Lucien Vanserra found themselves slightly tipsy in Ritas on a Saturday night.

Being a princess of the night court was all about keeping up appearances however Ritas was a place Y/n could let her hair down without worrying TOO much about prying eyes and the possibility of her brother, Rhys, walking in and seeing her in a state.

Luckily for her, he was at home with a 6-month-old baby.

"you want to go for another round of shots?" Y/n questioned the redhead, smirking slightly.

"Only if you can keep up princess." the redheaded male replied, swiping a strand of hair away from his russet eye.

Y/n looked at him as he spoke, he was truly beautiful. His auburn hair seemed to relax down his shoulders and his deep rich skin was laced with freckles.

Sitting back down ready to do their third round of shots, the two locked eyes once more.

"Cheers"

"Cheers fox boy."

At this Lucien let out a chuckle and shook his head as he downed the shot at the same time as Y/n, both of them letting out a sigh of relief as they finished.

They had been at Rita's for a few hours now but both found themselves genuinely enjoying each other's company.

"You know Y/n" Lucien began, putting down his glass and maturely opting for some water.

"I really needed this, after all the stuff with..." His voice trailed off as he looked down.

"I know" Y/n gave him a sympathetic glance.

As painful as a rejected mating bond was, Lucien knew he needed to move on.

"Thank god for alcohol."

the pair began to laugh again.

"you have a beautiful smile." Lucien voiced after a few minutes. "I promise it's not the alcohol talking."

Y/n snorted "You're not too bad yourself."

The male smiled and she watched him drum his fingers rhythmically on the wooden table.

"Anyway, I think I need to go before I get too drunk and forget my way home." Y/n spoke, placing her hand on top of Lucien's. "Thank you for tonight though, it was fun, we should come here again sometime."

Lucien smiled again, this time, however, his eyes were full of adoration.

"Let me walk you home, princess" he replied, offering her his arm.

The two wandered the streets of Velaris as they made their way to Y/n's apartment.

As they reached her door, Lucien spoke once more "Tonight was amazing"

"It was, whenever you need a drinking buddy, I'm always around." Y/n joked back.

"You looked beautiful tonight by the way."

At that, Y/n stood on her tippy toes and attached her lips to Luciens. The male clutched the side of her face gently deepening the kiss.

As they slowly parted, lips red and puffy Y/n began to laugh again as Lucien joined in.

"You're a smooth talker, fox boy."

A/n: guys thank you so much for all the love on my Azriel post!! i thought id make one on Lucien because he is my fav!!

[parkerslatte]

14 and 45 with azriel and it’s really fluffy! Thanks and congratulations 🎉🎉

A/N: tysm for your request! I hope you enjoy :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Drunken Kisses

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: It is Azriel’s birthday and Y/N originally wouldn’t be able to spend the day with him. The Inner Circle take him to Rita’s and he gets extremely drunk and Y/N surprises him.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

3000 Follower Celebration

•••

Azriel rarely got drunk, at least to the point of losing control of his body. He didn’t mind getting tipsy from time to time but he could simply have a good time being surrounded by his family. However as Cassian placed another drink in front of him, one that would surely tip him over that edge of being drunk to the point of memory loss, Azriel missed the one person who should have been sitting by his side. 

“Where is Y/N?” Azriel slurred as he sipped his drink. “It’s my birthday, she should be here.”

Amused looks were passed throughout the Inner Circle as Azriel pouted. Y/N had been away at the Summer Court for nearly two months now but Azriel felt like it had been a lot longer. From the moment Y/N went away, Azriel missed her. Ever since the two had gotten together nearly ten years ago, they hadn’t spent too much time apart. 

“I miss her so much,” he whined. “She has never been gone this long before.”

“She’s only been gone two months Az,” Cassian said. “I thought you were meant to be the patient one.”

“I am,” Azriel protested. “But I miss her.” Azriel finished his drink. There was a silent communication within the group to not give the shadowsinger another drink. 

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “It’s your birthday, put a smile on your face!”

Azriel shook his head. “I’ll only put a smile on my face if Y/N sits next to me right now.”

Azriel folded his arms across his chest. His heart hurt from being away from Y/N. When Rhys had sent her to the Summer Court, he begged him to go with her. Rhys refused, Azriel had his own work that he needed to focus on. The day Y/N left, Azriel was the one to bring her to the Summer Court. As soon as they arrived, Azriel refused to let go of her. His arms remained around her waist as he buried his head into the crook of her neck. 

“Please come back with me,” Azriel mumbled into her hair. 

Y/N hugged him tighter. “I can’t, my love. I have to do my job. I wish I could.”

“I will miss you,” Azriel said, resting his forehead against hers.

“I will miss you too,” Y/N said, pressing a kiss against his lips. 

Azriel was ripped out of his own memory as he felt someone sit next to him. He took no interest in who it was as he stared at the empty glass in front of him. Azriel never thought it was possible to miss someone this much. The constant pain in his chest from their separation was something he never wished to experience again. 

“Az, there’s someone who is trying to get your attention,” Feyre said, looking between the shadowsinger and the new presence that had joined their table. 

“I’m not interested,” Azriel grumbled. “If it’s not Y/N, then I don’t care.”

“Then maybe you should actually look for yourself, brother,” Cassian replied. 

As Azriel finally raised his gaze from the empty glass he looked at each face of his family who were simply staring at him in amusement. His gaze drifted around the circle until they landed on the one person he had been talking about all night. 

A goofy smile appeared on Azriel’s face as he looked at Y/N. “You’re here!”

Y/N smiled at her mate, as he reached out to her. She simply moved until she was close enough for him to pull her onto his lap. 

“I missed you so much, my love,” Y/N mumbled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Happy birthday.”

Azriel’s head nuzzled into her neck as he breathed in her scent. “I love you. Don’t ever leave again.” His words were slurred and quiet. 

With one hand, Y/N ran her fingers through his hair and with her other hand she gently stroked his cheek. 

“When did you get back, Y/N?” Feyre asked, sipping her drink. 

“Only an hour ago,” Y/N responded. “I asked Rhys where all of you were.”

Azriel hugged Y/N closer to him and began to press small kisses against her neck. Y/N simply smiled. 

“Can we go home?” Azriel asked, his lips grazing her ear. “I wanna kiss you so badly. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied, pressing a kiss against his forehead. 

Once she pulled away, Azriel pouted. “I wanted to kiss your lips.”

From beside Azriel and Y/N, Cassian laughed. “It’d be best to take him home, Y/N. He’s been like this all night.”

Azriel hand caresses Y/N’s thigh as he begins to pepper kisses across her jaw, completely ignoring Cassian. Y/N intertwined their fingers and squeezed his hand gently. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel begged. 

Y/N turned back to him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel practically melted. His mind was solely focussed on Y/N. As her lips pulled away from his, Azriel whined. 

“Come on, let’s go,” Y/N said, slipping from his lap. 

Azriel jumped up from his seat, swaying on his feet as the room spun around him. 

“Good luck, Y/N,” Cassian commented. 

Y/N shoved him playfully as she walked past him. “I will see you all tomorrow.”

“Not likely,” Cassian said. “You’ve been gone two months, I’m sure Azriel will keep you within your bed all day tomorrow.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you all whenever then.”

Azriel gripped onto her hand and tugged her to him. Y/N waved back at her family before being pulled out into the night air. There weren’t many people on the streets, many being home or in the many different bars and pubs in Velaris. 

The couple hadn’t even made it far enough away for the music to be completely inaudible before Azriel pulled Y/N into his arms. Y/N let out a noise of surprise before wrapping her arms around him. 

“I missed you so much, Y/N,” Azriel muttered. His wings encased the two of them, giving them more privacy. “It- it hurts to be away from you.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug and cupped his cheeks. His hazel eyes bore into hers. “It hurt me too, Az. I thought about you every single day.”

“I felt it,” Azriel said, placing a hand over his heart. “I felt all the love you would send my way.”

Y/N rested her forehead against his. “Well I needed to remind you how loved you are.”

A large smile spread across his face before he was surging forward and captured her lips with his own. In his drunken state, he stumbled as he threw himself off balance. Pulling away with a laugh, Y/N rested her hands on his shoulders. “Let’s get back home. We can do all the kissing you want.”

Azriel’s face brightened. “Really? What about anything else?” Y/N rolled her eyes at her insatiable mate. “We can focus on that tomorrow and when you are sober.”

Azriel huffed. “Fine.”

Y/N giggled and wrapped him in one final hug. Azriel had never felt such love before and as soon as he met Y/N, he never wanted to live in a world without it. Every single touch sent his senses into overdrive. He was normally one who could control his emotions well but he could never control them around Y/N. She could always tell exactly what he was feeling at any point. To Azriel, Y/N was his home. Wherever she was, it was where he wanted to be. 

“Your hugs feel like home,” Azriel said. “You feel like home.”

Y/N only held onto him tighter, a feeling of warmth coursing down the bond and Azriel smiled. I deserve this, Azriel thought. I really deserve this. 

“I know you said that I feel like home,” Y/N began, “but can we go to our actual home? It is getting quite cold out and we can go and cosy up by the fire and you will get all of the kisses you want.”

Azriel pulled away and smiled. The smile only Y/N saw. “Then let’s go home, I only wish to be with you all night.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “Happy birthday, Az.”

“You are the greatest gift I have ever received,” Azriel responded, intertwining their fingers together.

[danikamariewrites]

could i request one with rhys x reader where he is so incredibly in love with her it’s ridiculous. He is such a simp for her, she literally only has to ask and he gets her anything she wants. one day she jokes about him being very generous and says

” i’m sure if i ask for a golden pony, you’ll find a way”

next day he’s visiting Helion and asks for a golden pony.

The ic even makes fun of how much he simps for reader. One day they’re all walking in velaris to go to ritas and readers strap on her heel slips. Rhys gets on his knees to fix it with no hesitation. The inner circle looks at him with incredible shock and their jaws are dropped. Bc in acomaf it says that he has sacred tattoos on his knees and will never bow for no one and nothing but his crown. it’s the first time they ever see rhys on his knees for someone. Reader doesn’t know ab it and just says thank you and they continue walking. After a while he confesses to her and she feels the same and live happy forever 😁😁

Only For You

Rhys x reader

A/n: this is so freakin cute and writing this had me kicking my feet giggling

Warnings: none

You and Rhys had grown up together, so his kindness and generosity was nothing new to you. Whenever you needed or even just wanted something Rhys would get it for you. New shoes? Done, he knows what style you like. Need new clothes? He has your size and his tailor knows exactly what to make you.

You had always insisted on paying you back but he never let you. Rhys would always say, “Nonsense y/n. I like biting you things so please let me get this for you.” You’d breathe out a sigh of defeat and cup his cheek. “Thank you Rhys. I swear if I asked for a golden Pegasus you’d find me one.”

Rhys cherished your warm touch. He loved your soft skin and how gentle you are with him. The High Lord was so clearly in love with you but he was too afraid to admit it. If Rhys lost you as a friend because of his feelings he doesn’t know how he’d go on.

And he didn’t forget about that golden Pegasus. It was your 450th birthday present and you named her Sunny.

Tonight you were all headed to Rita’s to unwind after a busy work week. Mor had teased you about Rhys while you got ready together. “He’s completely and utterly in love with you! How can you not see he is wrapped around your finger.”

You had just rolled your eyes and laughed at your friend. “We’ve been friends for centuries Mor. Rhys would’ve said something by now. I just have to deal with that.” Deep down you were mad,y in love with Rhys. You just kept telling yourself he didn’t feel the same way. It made everything easier. You two were just friends after all.

Walking to Rita’s you and Cassian were hanging on each other crying laughing at something Mor said about Amren. Your heel caught in a crack of the cobblestone, causing the strap of your shoe to come undone. “Oops, hold on a second, my shoe.”

The group stopped as you lifted your dress a little to asses the damage. Before you could fix it, Rhys was on his knees looking up at you with a small smile. “I got it for you darling.”

His fingers gently grazed your ankle, sending a shiver up your body. You watched as Rhys carefully buckled the strap around your ankle again. Without thinking he caressed your calf and looked up at you. You swear you saw hearts in his eyes.

You run your fingers through his soft raven locks, bringing your hand down to caress his face, holding his chin. Giving it a small squeeze you say, “Thanks Rhys.” Mor giggles and takes your arm, pulling you ahead of the boys.

Cassian and Azriel stare at their brother with their jaws on the ground. Rhys stands, brushing off his pants. “I thought you said-“ Cassian started. Rhys cut him off, “Only for my equal.” Cassian didn’t think it was possible but he felt his jaw unhinge more at Rhys’s confession.

Rhys started to follow you and Mor while Cassian stood frozen. Azriel came up next to him closing his mouth and patting him on the back. “I can’t believe I knew before you.” He said with a smug look on his face.

When you woke up the next morning something felt different. You felt a light in your chest, pulling you out of your room.

Getting ready you follow that pull down the hall all the way to Rhys’s office. You find him sitting in his armchair, seemingly contemplating something. You felt nervousness radiating off him. Not only could you hear his heartbeat, but you swore you felt it in your own chest.

Pausing, you place your hand over your heart. You slowly approach him. Resting a hand on his shoulder Rhys leans back into the cushioned seat, placing his hand over yours. Rhys looked up at you with a hope on his beautiful face. The light of the fire in the hearth before him highlighting his high cheekbones and perfect jawline.

Closing your eyes you took a chance and reached out down that new glowing bond. Towards Rhys. Towards unconditional love. Rhys gripped your hand tighter as he let out a shaky breath.

Opening your eyes you found Rhys’s line with silver. You blinked your own tears away as you looked at him with adoration. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispered. “I said I’d never bow before anyone or anything but my crown. That changed when I found you, my equal in every sense of the word.”

Rhys pulled you onto his lap. “I love you too Rhys,” you whispered back, “I’ll share that crown with you for the rest of our lives.”

[lanitalay]

One day : Chapter 1

Azriel x Reader

a/n: I saw the netflix series, bawled my eyes out then thought it would make a great Az x reader story.

warnings: anxiety, drinking

word count: 1555k

Masterlist

Summer Solstice was your favorite holiday. Each year you look forward to celebrating the longest day of the year in the most beautiful city in the world. This year would be slightly different, as you were no longer a student, having recently graduated to proper healer. So, for the first time in years, you were able to stay up until the sun set and came back out because there were no readings to do, no papers to write and no seminars to attend the next day. You had informed Madja that you would not be coming in tomorrow and she had understood. “I was young and capricious as well, long, long ago.”

The day was spent at the Sidra, lounging and playing in the sand and the water. It was packed, thousands of fae clamoring to the shore to watch the High Lord’s ship pass by. Cheering for it. When the sun set your friends dragged you back to their apartment to get ready for the night ahead. The Rainbow would be filled with street vendors, music and art. 

“I can’t possibly drink more” you gagged as more sparkling wine was shoved in your hand. “Suck it up!” Nomi laughed and poured a glass for herself. Bec did your hair, curling it in loose waves. Fran did your makeup, smoking out dark shadows in your eye lid. Nomi gave you a short, short dress. The four of you admired the collective beauty in the mirror, even if not one of you could see straight. 

“Onwards!” Fran called and opened the door to let everyone stumble out. 

A few hours after drinking, eating and dancing in the street, Bec insisted she needed to sit down. You were looking around to see where you could take her when you spotted a familiar sign. “Let’s go to Rita’s, she’ll let us sober up in there” you guided your friends through the crowd, weaving in between all kinds of fae until arriving at the sanctuary. 

Rita recognized you and waved you in, sitting you down in one of the booths. The place was not quiet by any means, but the seats were cushioned and Bec sighed in relief as she took off her heels under the table. “These shoes rubbed my feet raw,” she hissed. You waved your hand over her feet and channeled some of your healing powers to her blisters. “Oh my gods, thank you, y/n.” You laughed and announced to the table “I’m going to get more drinks.” 

It had been ten minutes of standing by the bar, trying to get someone’s attention. “Hey! I need liquor!” You heard a low laugh behind you and turned around to see a looming figure, wings tight against his back, biting back a smile. “What’s so funny?” Always confrontational when drunk. He shook his head “nothing, can I order something for you?” 

You considered his offer. He was much, much taller than you. If he wanted, he could reach through the bar and grab a bottle of wine. There was a cloudiness to him, or maybe you were far too drunk. You nodded and told him what the table wanted. He waved the barkeep down and placed the order. “Are you the spymaster?” He nodded once. “I’m y/n,” you stretched a hand, as much as you could within the multitude of party goers. He shook it gently with a calloused hand “nice to meet you, y/n.” 

In a few minutes the four drinks were on the bar, Azriel helped you carry them back to the table. When your friends saw who was behind you their jaws practically unhinged. “Thank you, Spymaster.” “Azriel is fine” he said with a smile, and gods… that smile.  “Thank you, Azriel.”

You wanted to drown yourself in the Sidra when Nomi, ever fearless, shouted over the music “does the Spymaster dance?” 

“I could, with the right partner” he turned his head to look at you. “Are you inviting me to dance?" 

“Yes,” now it was him who had a hand stretched your way. You did not have to convince yourself to dance with him. Putting the glasses on the table, you turned and took his hand, letting him lead you right to the dance floor. 

It must have been hours that you spent dancing that night. At one point your friends came over to let you know they were going to call it. Azriel asked if you wanted to leave as well but his hips were grinding against your behind and his arms were firmly holding your waist. So you shook your head “no.” When the song changed he spun you, slotting your legs together, keeping you impossibly close. So close his nose nudged yours. By then, last calls were being made and you asked Azriel if he could walk you back to your apartment. 

He led you out of Rita’s and you pointed in the direction of your place. Azriel did not let go of your hand until you stopped in front of a building and said “this is me.” He looked at the stone building, decorated with flower boxes on the windows “it's nice.” 

“Can I get you some water? Something to eat?” The night could not end like this. You didn’t want this night to end at all. So when he nodded you beamed and opened the door, walking up the three flights of stairs to get to your apartment. “I have bread and…” you looked through the cabinets and were embarrassed that you had not stocked up on any groceries in weeks “chocolate chip cookies, but they are probably stale.” 

“I’ll try a cookie” he bit into it and grimaced “it’s very stale, throw that away.” You giggled and threw the cookies in the trash. When you turned back to face him he was right in front of you. A hair's breadth away. “You know you’re quite beautiful,” you gulp, “you’re very handsome too.”

His hands come up to graze your cheek, “I really want to kiss you.” 

“So kiss me” it doesn’t take him more than a second to bring your lips together. You hold onto his shoulders and he pushes you pack until he helps you jump on the counter. Your legs spread, wanting him to get closer, closer. He pulls back to ask “where’s your room?” You point to the door behind him and he grabs your thighs, carrying you towards a proper place to bed you. 

Ever so gently, he lays you down on your bed but you stand, turning so your back faces him. “I can’t reach the zipper,” with a feather-light touch he grabs the tiny piece of metal and slides it all the way down. You pull off the straps and let the fabric pool at your feet. Turn again to face this, this time completely bare.

“Your turn,” you start to undo his buttons but he quickly takes over, throwing his clothes on the floor next to yours.  Now you lay on the mattress and he settles on top of you, latching his mouth to yours once again. “Are you alright?” You notice his heart is beating erratically and place a palm on his chest to assess. “Yes, I’m-” “You’re having heart palpitations, lie down, let me do something” you push him on his back, hand still on his chest as you try to soothe the distressed organ. 

“I’m a healer, I’m going to send some magic to your heart to calm it down. It won't hurt but it might feel tingly.” You bring all your concentration to his heart. “It’s really fine-” “Shh, be quiet.” 

A few minutes go by and you are satisfied with his pulse. “Does that happen often? How much did you drink tonight?” 

“Sometimes and a lot.”

“Well try to limit your drinking to water for the next few weeks, I’ll tell Madja to check up on you soon.”

“Perfect, now can we get back to-”

“Absolutely not, you are going to sleep right now, stay here.” You hop off the bed again and throw on a night gown, and throw him pajama pants an ex had left behind. Azriel looks defeated on the bed. “Sorry to kill the mood, but I vowed to put my patients' health first. It's not something I can turn off.”

“Now I’m your patient?” 

“Everyone is a potential patient,” you say and fluff a pillow for him to lay on. “You don’t need to do that,” he grumbles. 

“Just relax.” You fluff your own pillow and lay down next to him. “It happens to me too. Madja calls them panic attacks, they can happen for no reason or a million reasons. It sucks.” 

“We didn’t need to stop, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah. We can try again some other time.”

“So you want to see me again?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“The Spymaster of the Night Court doesn’t scare you?”

“Ha, good one. I can’t be scared of a patient and don't flatter yourself. You're too pretty to be scary” you teased. 

“Come here,” he said and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards his chest. His heart steady.

“Tomorrow I’ll regret not drinking any water,” you mumble, words spilling into each other as the  weight of the day crashes into you, sleep taking over.

[azrielsdove]

you probably have many requests… and I’m sorry if I’m burdening you and just want to say you are under absolutely no obligation to do this. Ignore it! Delete it! Answer it! all would be fine!

could you do any male acotar character x reader based off the song by Bruno Mars. Talking To The Moon?

All your writings are fabulous and have made me feel a lot better when I’m down so thank you!

The Moon Above Us: Lucien X Reader

Warnings: Angst

***

Lucien sat in his room for what felt like the hundredth night in a row, staring up at the bright moon above. The silver light shone gently on his face, illuminating the golden eye that resides there. He sucked in a deep breath as memories ran around his mind.

“Hello,” he said softly, the routine he had become used to. “Where are you at tonight?” He pondered his own question, thinking of all her favorite places. A night out at Rita’s perhaps, surrounded by their friends.

Not that Lucien really classified them as his friends anymore. “What are you up to?” He asked the shining moon, remembering the way it reflected upon her eyes. She would laugh and twirl under the brilliant night sky, hair flowing out wide behind her. A night just like that had been when Lucien began to fall in love.

How could everything change so quickly?

“I wish I could take it back,” he whispered up to the sky. “Everything I said that day. It wasn’t truly about you, not really. I let too many things get to me at once and you were the unfortunate victim to my stress and anger.” A tear slid down his cheek, the pain of losing her at his own foolish hand too much to bear.

He would never forget the hurt on her face as he shouted, the fiery rage in her eyes when she yelled back. He had never felt more ashamed of himself than in those moments after she left their shared home, telling him that she never wanted to see his face again.

Lucien had left that very night. Slipped out of Velaris under the cover of the stars, making his way back to Spring.

Tamlin had caught him talking to the moon several times now. At first his friend was concerned that Lucien had lost it, that the break-up had been more than he could handle. Perhaps it was. Lucien didn’t care to explain that the moon was the last connection he had to her, the only way to speak to her. They may be many Courts apart, but the same glimmering moon hung above both of their heads.

“I will always love you, you know. Do you still love me?” He looked down at his hands. “I would understand if you don’t.”

He could never return to her, not without her wish. He wouldn’t risk showing up in Velaris unannounced, the possible wrath of Rhysand too dangerous. A cowardly part of him didn’t think he would survive her anger, if it remained. So he stayed in Spring, talking to the moon as if it was his old lover.

“My heart belongs to you, my soul belongs to yours. I do not know how much longer I can do this without you.” His voice broke on the last sentence, a vulnerability only she and the moon had ever seen.

Lucien looked up one last time, ready to retire to his bed for the night. He hadn’t been the same since she had gone. As often as he spoke up to the moon, he could only hope she knew just how sorry he was.

***

READER POV

You leaned against the small balcony outside the bedroom that used to house two of you. You were focused on the moon above you, as bright and beautiful as ever. “I hope you’re doing well,” you said, looking up into the night.

After the fight you and Lucien got into, you had told him to never come back. You regretted those rash words all too often, wishing you could go back in time. Try to understand his anger, why he had lashed out at you. You knew, even then, that he wasn’t truly upset with you.

“What are you doing tonight?” You asked the moon, pausing as if waiting for an answer. You knew he had gone back to Spring, clearly wanting to be as far away from you as possible. You had half a mind those first few weeks to go after him, but you didn’t think he’d want to see you. Not after what you said.

You felt like half a soul without him, missing him like you would miss a body part. You and Lucien were made for each other, you were certain of it. Now he was gone, leaving you in the home you used to share on the edge of the Sidra. Rhys had asked if you would like to move, offering up other homes in the area. You declined them all, a piece of you unable to leave this one. You felt like if you left this home, you would be losing all you had left of Lucien.

“I’ve been trying to be okay,” you began, eyes focused on the moon. “It’s hard. I miss you, Lu. I miss you so much. I’m not the same without you.” Tears filled your eyes, threatening to fall at any second.

At first you had felt foolish, talking to the moon. The sleepless nights alone had led you out here, gazing up into the night. That was when it had started. It somehow felt like you were talking to him, as if he was on the other side. You told yourself that even Courts apart, the same moon shone above the both of you.

“I’ll never love anyone else, Lu. It’s only ever been you for me, you know that. I tried to tell you that on that awful night.” The silvery light grew blurry under your vision, emotion taking over.

A tear slid down your cheek as you stared at the night. The moon and the stars dancing across the dark sky, making these hard nights feel a little less long. You knew you would always feel broken, as long as Lucien wasn’t by your side.

***

He was yelling, fire raging behind his russet eye. “Do you think you are better than me? Is that it?” You were taken aback, hardly having closed the door behind you.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lu,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm.

He scoffed. “You spend all your days with them, the ‘High Lord’ and his brothers. Do you take me for a fool?” His anger was radiating throughout the room, infecting you as well.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “Where is this coming from? I work with them, Lucien. What has crawled up your ass and died?”

“Do not act innocent now! You were just using me, using me to rise up in Spring. Now you can move on to the next male who can give you a higher station. You think the General is going to fuck you? The Shadowsinger? The High Lord himself?” His words were full of hatred, a tone he had never taken with you.

“Have you lost your mind? They are my friends. It has only ever been you, and this is how you have decided to treat me? I would choose your next words very carefully.” You were seething, fists clenched tight at your sides. You knew Lucien had been under a severe amount of stress recently, and something must have pushed him to his limit. However you did not deserve to be attacked like this.

He rolled his eyes. “You are nothing but a user.” His words cut you deep, a knife in your stomach.

You felt hot tears prick at the back of your eyes, anger clouding your vision. “You do not mean that. Tell me you aren’t going to through years of love away due to some, some.. delusion!” You shouted, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“I do mean it. Eris pointed it out to me.” Ah. Eris. That would explain his mood. You calmed ever so slightly, knowing how he got when his brother came around.

“You know as well as anyone that Eris is a fool, Lucien. Do not fall for his games.” You took a step closer to your love, reaching out for him.

He stepped backwards, away from your grasp. “Don’t touch me. I don’t know who to trust anymore.”

You dropped your hand and turned on your heel, heading for the door. You ripped it open, ignoring how hard it slammed against the wall. You would deal with that later. “Get out, Lucien. Get. Out,” you hissed between your teeth, not even fully looking back at him. “I want you gone before I get back, and I never want to see you again. Stay away from me.”

That was the last time you saw him.

***

I’m sorry this took so long to get out!! I haven’t had much time to write recently! I hope this is what you wanted, Talking to the Moon is a FAVORITE song of mine! I made it very sad and angsty, a longing for each other that they don’t realize can be fulfilled. I chose Lucien because I love writing for him! Let me know what you think and thank you for requesting <3

[chalterdh22]

Day 19: Dexter, Deb and Rita in “Secret” in Augtickletober2024

Summary:  I know Dexter has been off the air for some time, but that show was amazing!  I really miss this family dynamics!  Deb, Rita and Dexter are all hanging out at Rita’s.  When old stories arise about Dexter being a little more sensitive than Rita realizes, the truth comes out.

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, so if that’s not your thing, don’t read.  Some swearing.  All fluff.  Ler: F Lee: M

“Deb, grab me another beer!” Dexter yells at his sister as she walks to the kitchen.

“Sure thing, baby brother!  Anything else you need?” She asks sarcastically.  By this time, both of them have had a few to drink and Rita was just sitting there enjoying the comradery of two siblings, which she hardly got to see together.

“I love to see you two just being yourselves around me.”  Rita stops and sighs, looking over at Dexter.  Dexter smiles back at her.  “I especially love how Deb here can give your shit, and you just sit here and take it!”

Deb gives Dexter a beer and laughs. “Ha, yeah, cuz he has too, or I’ll beat him up!  Right Dex!”  Deb shoves his shoulder standing next to him while he was seated on a couch with Rita.  She sits down on a small stool, probably one of the kids’, next to him.  “There were times I had you begging me to leave you alone, right?”  She stares right at him with a huge grin!

He immediately starts getting a little flush.  “Yeah, well, that was when I was a stringy kid.  I’m different now.”

“Wait, you used to beat him up?” Rita asked.  “That’s so mean!”  She was smiling when she said this though.  Rita was such a sweet person; she would never think of beating up someone.

“Well, not so much as beat up.  See, Dex here…”

“Stop.”  Dexter said sternly, looking right at her now.  He saw where this was going and didn’t want Rita to see that side of him.

“Stop what?” Rita asked.  Deb had a huge smile on her face now, which made Dexter even more red.  “What Dexter, what did she do to you?”

“Nothing, Rita.  Just wrestling, kids’ stuff, right Deb?”  He now stared right back at her with his most serious face that most people would be scared of.  Not Deb though.

“Yeah, wrestling.  Whatever you wanna call it.  See, my baby bro doesn’t like people to know….” She stopped for dramatic effect and sipped her beer.  If Dexter ever had an inkling to kill his sister, now would have been it, but here merely just adjusted himself on the couch to look like he was ok with this conversation.

“Know what?”  Rita asked excitedly. 

“That he’s ticklish, like it’s a fucking disability!”

“Deb!”  Dexter yelled.  She was full on belly laughing at this point.  She loved making him squirm.

“Really?  You’re always so serious, I didn’t even think that was a possibility, Dexter.”  As Rita finished her words, Deb quickly reached out and grabbed Dexter’s thigh making him gasp and jump off the couch.

“Jesus, Dex!  You haven’t changed one bit!”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, Dexter.” Rita said cooing, like she was falling in love with him all over.

Dexter cleared his throat and sat back down with his hands firmly on his legs.  Deb was just smirking and staring at him.  “Oh, lighten up, baby brother!  You never let out a good laugh anymore!”  Deb then quickly reached over and grabbed his side and kept squeezing.  Dexter let out a laugh.

“Hey, stop it!”

“Stop what?  You don’t like to laugh in front of your girlfriend or something.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s...”  Deb didn’t give him time to finish as she then threw herself on him, and started clawing has his toned stomach.  He probably could easily push her off, but she was strong, and he was temporarily weakened.  He doesn’t laugh a lot, if ever and he was gasping for air like he ran a mile.  “Debbb, st-stooopppp!  Nooooooo!”  And there it was.  The dam broke open.  “Nahhahahaahahaaaa!”

Rita just stared with a permanent smile on her face.  His laugh was beautiful and higher pitched than she imagined.  She loved it! 

Deb now reached up into his armpits, and he clamped down, curled down and couldn’t move.  “See Rita, he’s a softy.  Look at him!”  Dexter was laughing and tears were streaming down his face now.  He really couldn’t breathe.  “All that working out you do, and tickling takes you down.  You’re sad, Dex.” Then she stopped to let him breath.

He was still curled up in a ball.  He was telling himself he wouldn’t put her on his table tonight.

“Don’t listen to her Dex!  That made me so happy just hearing your laugh!”  At that moment, Deb stood up and grabbed her keys.

“Well, I think my job is done here.  Rita, two other spots, hips and feet!  Have a great night you two!” 

Dexter finally allowed himself to lay back on the couch, still breathing heavy.  “I really hate her sometimes.”

“Aw, don’t say that.  She absolutely loves you.”

“I’m going to kill her later.”  He mumbled.

“What did you say?”  Rita asked as she started walking away.

“Nothing.”  Nothing indeed.

The End

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

Hello I hope I'm not bothering you but and I hope this isn't a triggering question but how would teagan react to the mc absolutely hating them after the breakup like they don't want him anywhere near them and will not hesitate to call the police on him or just straight up pepper spray/taze him/judo toss him on the ground if he gets near and how would the other characters react to the mc and their intense hated of teagan I'm just curious cause I know this is how some people I know would react to a toxic ex like teagan

Don't be silly, of course you're not bothering me! I love getting asks from people interested in learning more about my characters, it makes me really happy to receive them! <3 ____

Honestly, after the initial break up Teagan decided to give you a little space to cool off since the break up was pretty brutal emotionally on you both. Though, what they didn't expect was for you to move out and travel halfway across the country to a god forsaken island, even if it is Saint Anne's.

If you were still livid and refused to talk to them/ engage at all they would be pissed. Of course they would try to play nice at first, but once it was clear that it wasn't going to work they would switch tactics.

They would try to manipulate the others into helping them smooth things over with you. That there was a huge misunderstanding and you BOTH needed to talk to get closure. Depending on how you both play your cards, some of the more gullible love interests could possibly be tricked into helping Teagan get you alone so you can "smooth" things over. (Granted that's only if you didn't tell them everything that went down between you two.)

If that plan failed, they would have no choice but to MAKE you listen whether you wanted to or not. They'd stalk, harrass, and blackmail you into listening and engaging with them. They refuse to let you go, why else would they come all this way? No, they WILL make sure you come back with them, one way or another. ____ As for the love interest's reactions, this is how they'd react if their first introduction to Teagan was of you viciously attacking or threatening them.

Garret would immediately step in between you two, effectively shielding you from them, stare them down, and tell them to leave before he made sure they'd regret it. What the FUCK did they do to you to make you react like that? He'd try to get the story from you later on, and regardless if you told him or not he'd personally make sure Teagan NEVER bothered you again.

Marcelo would be stunned by your vitriol, but protectively step in between you two and try to assess the situation. Once you told him they were an ex, his attitude would shift and he'd definitely become more protective and lead you away, warning Teagan to get lost. He'd insist that you called him if Teagan ever showed their face around you again and he and his friends would make sure to take care of them for you.

Camilla would honestly be shocked. Who on earth could make her otherwise calm and sweet roommate this angry? She'd quickly step in and immediately have your back. You could fill her in on the details later, there was no way you'd act this way unless you had a good reason to. Of course, once you did fill her in on the detail she would join in on the hostility towards them, both in person and online.

While Rita would initially be surprised by your reaction, She'd probably grab your arm, and gently hold you back because there's no way she was about to let you get some charges filed against you. Though, once you filled her in on the details, she would become scarily cold and firm towards Teagan. A terrifying silent rage would overcome her and YOU would actually want to remove her from the situation in fear of what she could possibly be capable of. Once Teagan was out of the equation, it would take some time before Rita calmed down enough to apologize for her reaction and make sure you were okay and that you know you can rely on her if Teagan ever bothered you again.

[muserolodex]

(Ok, I want to talk about this scene... If you're unfamiliar with this, these six (silver guy there doesn't count in the official roster) are the kings of their small nations on a distant planet. Red/Gira is a boy who had to grow up fast, who stole the symbols of authority from a wicked king who was willing to let millions die in a prophesied war. Blue/Yanma is the president of a high-tech nation, who built the mechs they use, and who has always had to hold his head high so his people wouldn't see him cry.

Yellow/Himeno is the Queen of a land dedicated to beauty and medicine. She has encouraged people to "be a little selfish" when reaching for their own dreams.

Purple/Rita is the Supreme Justice of the land of Gokkan, where all law on the planet comes from. Up until this point, they have worn a high collar around their face to keep up the image of impartiality, but here Rita wears the collar down so their enemy can see their face.

Black/Kaguragi is the leader of the breadbasket of the world. He plays five-dimensional chess, forges dangerous alliances and works behind the scenes to ensure the best possible scenario.

White/Jeramie is the half-blooded king of the Bugnarok people from beneath the planet's surface, the enemy faction in the first half of the series. In the second half of the series, Red meets with Dugded Djardin, a cosmic being who makes different races on planets go to war because it amuses him. Dugded is basically god, and every time the Kingohgers thought they had him beat, he had an another ace up his sleeve.

There's been a plan in play for years to defeat Dugded, but it requires full cooperation by the royals and as Yanma put it an episode before "A million small miracles all lined up." In that next to last episode, the kings tried to enact a full evacuation plan, sending their people into space. However, Silver/Racules and the retainers of the Kings realized that if they did, they'd just be perpetuating the cycle. Dugded would find them again and make them his playthings once more. So instead of fleeing, the WHOLE POPULATION of the world returned to aid their kings in the final battle. Those who could fight, did. Those who couldn't fight, tended to their Kings' wounds. During this time, the Kings received aid from an unlikely place. The land of the dead opened its gates and offered up: 1) their parents, 2) one of the king's warriors who had long ago been killed and replaced by a shapeshifter, 3)the enemy general from the first half of the series and 4) The Very First King of the World. The civilians, soldiers and fallen ones bought the Kings the time they needed to rest and recuperate after having asteroids literally dropped on their heads. They are patched up, fed, and have gained a second wind and smiling. And Dugded can't understand why they're smiling and gives them the best straight line ever. "Just who the hell do you think you are?" Yanma steps up first, declaring that he's not going to bow to some false god. He will hold his head high and lead his people into the future, a future where mankind never needs fear the wrath of the gods. He leads his team of hackers, codecrackers and inventors back to the battle, making sure that his most loyal retainer can stand up. Himeno is next. She identifies herself as the "Unwilting Flower" and tells Dugded that her path is before her and she will stride down it, and makes it clear that he is just a speedbump on that path. Kaguragi's speech says "These people are my life. I will cross through any depth of mud and dirty my hands for their sake." And in this case, fighting Dugded, he doesn't just intend to dirty his hand, he intends to bloody them. Rita's speech mirrors one they made earlier in the series "The law is spear that can pierce the heart of a king, and a shield that can protect the populace. Even in the face of death and destruction, the law remains resolute, and I am the Law." Rita is leading an army of justices and criminals alike, because they all deserve the chance to live free of Dugded's influence. Jeramie says "I am the king of man, of Bugnarok and all that lies between. I am the great storyteller, and my story will continue, but yours will come to an end." And Gira demands for a god to "tremble in your boots for you face the true might of Shuggodam. We will take this world that you have been toying with and conquer it for ourselves." What follows this scene is almost twenty minutes of fighting where everyone gets a chance to shine, and then the million little miracles happen when the people grant their souls in service to their kings. This allows the Kingohger to fight Dugded on a cosmic scale, in a brawl that ends with Dugded being punched out of the universe, and the Kingohgers breaking his soul into six pieces with their swords. This is by far one of the best final henshin scenes in Super Sentai history because the buildup to this moment was phenomenal.)

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

F/Feb 2021

Day 27 - Historic AU

Pairing - Mermaid!Rita/Pirate!Veridia

Words: 1303

Rating: T

This is the only day of Femslash Feb 2021 I never did at the time, but now almost 3 years later - it exists. It's technically Pirate!AU but since Pirates did exist a long time ago it's still Historic!AU

The wood of the ship groaned under the onslaught from the storm. Waves like mountains smashed into the hull and the wind grabbed everything it could and tossed it all into the sea including some of the crew. 

Veridia watched as two of the men got thrown overboard and immediately swallowed by the waves. 

Rain fells in sheets, drenching everyone on deck and coating the wood in a dangerous puddle. 

“Everyone who is not essential up here, get below deck!” She shouted over the wind. She had to stay and steer but maybe, just maybe she could save as many of her crew as possible. 

First mate Aquata was gripping the railing on the steps up as the ship pitched and rocked.

“The only way we all live through is to get to shelter!! Aquata yelled. “The storm’s too strong!”

“We just have to get past Mako! Once we’re out of the island’s reach we’ll be fine!”

 Mako loomed off their port side. Illuminated by lightning flashes every so often. The island was a sign of death. She never should have come so close. 

The next wave slammed so hard she heard wood crack. 

“Captain, we're taking on water!” Maya staggered up from below. Amaris, Naia and Cameron at her heels. 

“Get to the boats and pray to every God you’ve ever heard of they take mercy and let us pass!” Veridia ordered. 

“Who’s they captain?” Aquata asked.

“Mermaids.” 

Veridia had seen them out this way before. Mermaids. Half woman, half fish with long golden tails. Mako was a hotspot but somehow she thought she could get past them. The Mermaids had let her before. 

They were almost clear of the island when the entire ship moved beneath them. Veridia was thrown to the side, crashing into the very wheel she still gripped beneath gloved hands before smacking into the floor. 

“Wave!” Someone yelled. 

The ship was slammed again. Veridia’s grip slipped and she found herself skidding across the soaked deck as the ship tipped. She barely had time to scream before the wood beneath her ran out and she plummeted down into the sea. 

The water hit hard. It was like smashing into concrete, solid concrete that stung her skin and froze her right to her core. The salt stung her eyes and she couldn’t tell which way was up. It was darkness all around.

So this was how it ended. Burning lungs, freezing water, drowned to death in a magic storm. Even if she could somehow get to the surface the waves would immediately throw her under again. She didn’t even know if there was still a ship to get back too if she somehow survived the wave’s onslaught. 

She couldn't hold her breath anymore, nor could she stop the involuntary inhale of sea water. It flooded her lungs. On instinct she coughed only for more water to swarm her. She was drowning. Actually drowning. Notorious pirate captain Veridia Shore and she was drowning. So much for going out guns blazing with her ship like she’d wanted. She was going to die and tides knew what would become of the Ice Bitch, affectionately named for herself after some rotten mouthed pirate had spat in her face and called her just that - “an ice cold bitch” for refusing his advances. The man had been swiftly punched in the face and a bottle smashed on his head. 

The water took over, it was too hard to even try and fight now. She was sinking, the ocean taking her for it’s own. 

The surge of water coming out her lungs in acrid vomit forced her awake. She was awake. Actually awake. She was soaked through and numb, lying on some sand. Her chest and throat burned like hellfire. If this was the afterlife it sucked. 

“You lived,” a woman spoke from her side. 

Veridia barely managed to look over, the storm had taken all her strength, she saw golden scales.

Ah so this was it. She’d survived a storm only to be killed by one of the Mermaids. There was many legends of Mermaids eating those they drowned, grinding their bones for potions and using the very Moon itself to cast dangerous spells. 

“I thought you were gone, but there was this strong fire about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bit of Mermaid in you.”

“I’m not one of you,” Veridia barely managed to spit out. 

The Mermaid laughed. 

“I saved your life, I would think you’d have the sense not to insult me. Save I decide to drag you back out into the shallows and hold you down until you drown.”

Veridia just sagged into the cold, gritty sand. 

“I’ll give you a do over. Would you like me to get you dry?”

“Yes please.” The cold had reached her bones now. Being dry sounded nice. 

Warmth began to envelope her, it was so calming. She could almost close her eyes and just sleep away the rest of her aches…

Something hit her in the leg, hard, jolting her awake.

“You can’t sleep yet. You fall asleep here and someone else will come along and drown you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t feel like it. I like watching the boats pass by, you land people are interesting.”

“You saved me because we’re interesting?”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

Veridia slowly sat herself up and wiped dried sand off her face to get her first look at the Mermaid. The Mermaid was sitting on the sand, a long golden tail curled underneath her with a large, strong looking fin at the end. She had dark red hair clinging to her neck and shoulder. Her tail blended seamlessly into a tanned stomach. Her breasts were covered in a smattering of the same gold scales as her tail. 

“It’s rude to stare,” the Mermaid said and Veridia looked up and took in her face. She was pretty. Very pretty. No one had said Mermaids were pretty. For all the stories she almost expected fanged teeth, webbed ears and gills. 

“Sorry,” Veridia forced out.

The Mermaid smiled and Veridia felt her stomach flutter.

“My name is Rita.”

“Veridia.”

“Veridia,” the Mer - Rita, repeated. Why did she like how much the Mermaid said her name?

“It’s very nice to meet you Veridia.”

“You too.”

Rita tilted her head slightly and Veridia felt her cheeks flush. The Mermaid’s eyes were scanning her the way Veridia had most likely been doing to her. 

“Did any of my crew make it?”

“Most. Only those that fell overboard drowned. The storm stopped once you fell.”

“How?”

Rita shrugged, “I stopped it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not part of this pod anymore. Sometimes I interfere with their practices, stop storms, rescue ships, and rescue people.”

“Can you take me back to my ship?”

“I probably can if you really want.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It looks like such a dirty life. Do you even get to wash?”

“Is being a Mermaid much cleaner?”

“Yes actually, we’re a very clean species. Unlike you land people - we can smell you from your boats. If you really want to go back I’ll take you.”

Veridia staggered up to her feet. 

Rita uncurled her tail and and hauled herself to the incoming wave like a seal. The seemingly tiny wave was enough water for the Mermaid to stretch out and shoot out into the deeper water. Rita surfaced.

“You coming?”

Veridia waded into the water and dove forward far less gracefully than the Mermaid had. She treaded the water best she could while Rita swam around her. 

“What now?”

Rita swam right up to her and cupped her face, “just breathe.”

Veridia’s heart literally skipped a beat. Then the Mermaid’s lips were on her’s. Then she was plunged back into the water again. 

[obeymebutnotlikethat]

"I like Raven.”

“But?”

“That’s it,” he muttered.

Her hands didn’t falter tying the friendship bracelet. The confession was not necessarily a surprise or altered her perception of any current happenings. 

“Your arm is the dead,” she countered.

He huffed out a sorry as he turned to her in thought. It was strange to have someone not follow up on his admittance. Cyborg would’ve threw in some type of puns with a whack to the back; Robin would’ve nodded his head asking his plans; Raven, he already knew the answer. His shoulders slumped and he forced himself to cross his legs-he didn’t want to leave Starfire.

“Oh, Star,” he sighed dramatically, “I don’t ever know what to do.”

“You should do the working of that,” she muttered leaning closer to study the knot.

Now he remembers why he likes hanging out with her. 

“Maybe I should try hanging out with Tera?”

She slapped his wrist then shook it between both hands in excitement.

“Tera? You have other friends outside of the Titans,” she beamed.

“Ouch, that’s cold Star,” he pretended to wince, “Whatever did I do to you?”

“The nothing, I am merely excited for you to socialize,” she fell against his shoulder peeking up, “you must tell me about this Tera. You are friends. Do they know of the Titans? Can they do battle? Do they like shiny objects?”

“Uh, we might be a little bit more than friends,” he shrugged, “She was for a time a member. She’s killer at controlling the Earth so don’t let her hit you with rocks or drag you into mud. Now, shiny objects I mean not really?”

He knew he was blushing as the girl peered closer before resting against him once more. She must’ve been satisfied with his answers for the time being.

“You might be more than the friends.”

He blinked down at her with confusion as death loomed over him. His eyes surveyed the room for lurkers and he began to shift the newly built bracelet.

“Shit,” He inhaled, “Maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

He felt her face scrunch against his collarbone. A deep exhale release made him itch for another smoke break.

“You do know what more than friend’s means right?”

“We may not have the same terminology on my planet but I am aware enough to understand courting rituals of Earth. Tera is a friend if not more yet less than a partner.”

It jarred him the velocity and speed in which she was adapting. Perhaps, Robin might not be able to slip under the radar as he might have hoped. It almost filled him with amusement at the possible chance of a distraught Dick.

“I…we’re not like that anymore. She’s weirdly into older men. Specifically, one we have to battle on an on and off basis.”

“Hm,” she pouted.

“I mean I could probably turn myself into an older man if I put my mind to it but not worth it. My hips are amazing right now and so don’t want to fuck up my best features,” he sent her a wink.

“It would also be unfair to give something you are not. I quite like this Beast Boy,” she patted his leg, “You are much more of the appealing than the men of older ages. As you said, best features.”

She nodded determinedly. Dude, did he not love her. Not the romantic type or maybe the platonic type or there wasn’t enough words to put in the awe of Starfire. She truly is out of this world. 

Sometimes, the Titans felt like the Doom Patrol and here he was sitting with Rita after an argument with Chief. The don’t change hanging softly between them much like the tires before the fall. It’s unnatural dig into folding…

“Man, no one said we were cuddling today. Raven is going to be so Jealous. Especially Robin if that kid ever comes out of his room,” Cyborg smiled down at them, “Then again i haven’t seen or heard from him all day.”

“Probably punching something,” Beast Boy grumbled back, “Just get in.”

He couldn’t help the slight grimace at the small metallic squeak as  Cyborg folded his arms.

“Could’ve just told me I need to grease up my parts a bit, “ he flashed a look at Starfire, “A joke. Not gonna put that on my parts.”

She did not know the amusement behind grease. It was most definitely hot if Robin’s slight yip was to say. Was that the joke he was trying to tell? She offered a slight smile as he peered around the room.

“Do you desire something Friend?”

“Desire? Meat. Could always go for some meat,” he laughed, “Nah, I'm just playing with ya. I came in here for something then got distracted by your friendship bracelet huddle. Hurt you didn’t invite me.”

“Maybe next time,” Beast Boy scoffed.

“I’m gonna hold you to that, BB. Now, I know it had something to do with my parts.”

“Grease?” 

“Haha, real funny Man,” he rubbed his neck, “You know maybe I’ll remember after getting something to eat.”

He began to amble towards the small kitchen quarters when a small hand grabbed his. Looking down he was greeted by Starfire’s wide eyes as she beamed at his acknowledgement. Not releasing her hold she began to tug at Beast Boy’s elbow. She managed to drag him up to Cyborg’s amusement.

“We should go to the festivities at the harbor,” she laughed.

“The carnival,” Beast Boy queried.

“Hm,” she agreed, “That way we can control our day of friendly bonding and Cyborg can do the feasting on multiple delicacies. There is also a shop that might be of use to you in the regards of the parts you are looking for.”

He could see Cyborg contemplating the offer to a degree. They wouldn’t turn down her suggestions but they still had to play the part of wager.

“Girl, have I ever told you we should keep you? Well, we should. Cause this little lady is crushing it with these suggestions.”

“Like a personality hire?”

“Nah, just cause they got personality doesn’t mean their ideas are good. ‘How about we don’t do’ way ahead of you on that one smiley.”

“So, why are we hiding behind a funnel cake stand?”

Cyborg huffed as being shushed as he shared his treat with her. Their friend had violently yanked them behind a booth with no explanations. Sure, he was hiding from someone but he could’ve just used his words.

“Me and you are going to battle after this. Gonna kick your ass on game night for that stunt.”

“Shh, we don’t need to be seen.”

“Boy shush me one more time.”

“I am the confused, are we hiding from a supposed criminal or…” she trailed off.

They blinked as Beast Boy turned on them with a frown. Something or someone had upset him which wasn’t right.

“I may or may not have used a ring when we first hung out.”

“BB-”   

“I didn’t know how she’d react to me being,” he paused, “so, I used this little ring before she joined the team.”

“And you saw her,” Cyborg sighed.

The boys sat in contemplative silence as Starfire watched them in confusion. Sure, the no longer looked the same minus her but from the clues she assumed it was about this Tera. Her brows furrowed as she stood to peek around the stand. She knew she couldn’t identify the girl and did not wish to. However, Beast Boy had mentioned she spent time with an older villain of the Titans. The thought made her frown in apprehensive sadness.

A hand tugged at her shoes forcing her to look down at them. His eyes were wide with unease and she slunk down to apologize with hints of other plans they could do. They could find another activity, there’s this diner, the shoreline on the island was nice, or the new season of a show was on. He shook his head each time with a twitch of a smile. It was nice to have someone consider his feelings. Not as an afterthought. I mean Robin was great at it but you know not him.

Tera would’ve told him to keep going not let anything stop him. Especially not his worry. No, he could just push those emotions aside just like Raven told him. Maybe, he should avoid her for a while too. Nope, that’s unfair to the team but Starfire is standing up. She’s offering her his hand and a nod to the exit. She’s giving him an outing from all of this together. As a group because Cyborg seems to be suggesting something similar. Didn’t someone say something about a mechanics store? 

It doesn’t matter cause he can smell it before spotting it. The greenish smoke tumbling from her location and the civilians scattering. They’re trampling each other in an attempt to escape then the communicators are lighting up. Except starfire has already launched them into the air forcing them to settle on a roof at the end of the pier. He can’t look away or relax or breathe and he tries. He’s vaguely aware of her slinking next to him mumbling something and stroking his shoulder blades.

He is extremely aware of the six red eyes meeting his and then the blonde hue over their shoulder. A choked sob escapes him and he shifts into small, small enough to be ignored, small enough to curl into a tight unpentetrable ball. He tries ignore the tongues lashing out in an aim to hurt him. Tries to ignore the hands on him in comforting movements cause he knows it isn’t Starfire. He knows it isn’t Cyborg. So, he curls in tighter just not enough to avoid the red streak across the pier.

Starfire, in all her warrior training, does not understand the situation. She knows the gas in causing distress. She knows her friends have been affected as Cyborg has been shut off and Beast Boy a small armadillo settled in a space he cannot roll off the roof. 

Fear gas is not a thing on her planet or common to jump city according to her friend’s coms. She already spoke to Robin and against his warnings she flies closer to the source. Hovering above the fumes she takes in the strange masked figures, the man in a strange mask, another with swords, and a blonde girl: Tera. She cannot help the groan as she plummets into the fog. Perhaps, on a normal fear gassing the assailiants could see throught it. The weather is not on their side today and not this God the team had mentioned. For they got her, eyes glowing with a tight lipped smile. 

“Surely, there is nothing worth raiding at a carnival. Is your leader out of commission for a while?”

She narrowly avoids a rock from impaling her skull. A frown threatens to over take her as she fires off a starbolt in the assailiants direction. She hits her mark from the girl’s scream. She’s proud of it.

“Fascinating, everyone will succumb to their fears,” a scarecrow like beings gwaffs.

She blinks at the dispersing fumes  and offers him a small grin.

“You are the one to create this, yes? Mighty impressive.”

The thing seems to preen in ecstatic wonder of her fears. 

“Unfortunately, I have already dealt with my fears,” she lunges forward.

The thing is clearly human and small and a sword in coming upon her. Exactly in time for a clash of colors to intercept. 

“Robin!”

“Robin.”

“Didn’t think you were one to team up with an Arkham patient like him. Not being very picky anymore, huh?” 

“Robin?” 

“Missed me, Scarecrow?” He throws a smirk over to them, “Way to go, Star.”

“Ah, Batman’s original,” Scarecrow bit out.

Her hand wrapped around his throat glowed with a sizzle: a warning.

“Silence,” she hissed, “Robin you are, alright?” 

“The first of three,” his accomplice sighed, “doesn’t it wound you, Robin? To know how easily replaceable you little birds are?”

Robin tightened his muscles at the jab. With feet planted on sturdy wood he felt as if the safety net was pulled from beneath him. He didn’t know about the third Robin until this week. Yet, all of Gotham’s villains knew first hand. Typical.

“I’m fine, Star. Focus on taking out the others. I’ll handle Slade.”

He stepped in to swing his bo staff down. The heavy clank of opposing metals ricocheted off the silent tussle and flare of radiation green. There was no point in hiding his snarl as he pushed back.

“He didn’t even let the body turn cold before he got another,” Slade huffed a chuckle, “Not even a phone call but I wouldn’t do it to you. You can simply ask Tera.”

“No thanks,” Robin spit, “Teaming up with a criminal isn’t where I see myself tonight.”

“Always the difficult one, Robin. Too bad it was an easy decision on his part,” Slade swept him off his feet, “Heard the last Robin was an easy kill. The old Bats didn’t even come for him.”

“The only thing that did was a crowbar,” a pitchy gravel came from his right.

He hissed at the insults and the possible truth he didn’t want to know. Instead, he pressed his pulsating knee into the floorboards and glared at the floating girl beside him. Her sunflare gleaming eyes and rock fragments floating beside her made him twitch. Sometimes, she reminded him that the Titans had failures. Not a this person is a mistake but that you couldn’t save everyone.

“Cheap shot. Shame you can’t get women your own age, Slade. Have to get one young enough to never question you?”

Tera’s growl almost ate away at the guilt he felt.

“My dear boy, She came onto me,” Slade’s fist met empty air as Robin dodged, “Surely, you knew many pondered about yours and the Bats relations.”

He lunged for the man with a battle cry as a fist rammed into the masked man’s side. The sudden shift caused him to transform into a tumble as he watched Tera get knocked into the railings. With enough force she burst through them and the fumes began to disperse as the wind picked up. He distinctly heard the sirens in the distance and the pinging of his com. His eyes squinted at his fiery friend as she sped to him before he could bark an order.

Slade had gotten away and they let him. He felt the surging rage overcome his pain before he was pulled into her embrace. Her mumblings about defeat, the team, civilians, drifted in and out of his ears as he clutched at her forearms. He knew the pain would not flow through her no matter how hard he squeezed. Still, he tried not to crush her  in his distraught state. That man always knew how to get to him, so, he stood and limped over to his old ‘friend’ with an impish grin.

“A bit far from home. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a good upgrade for your short stay here,” he drapes a hand on the bagged man’s shoulder.

He almost stifles a laugh at the fear coming from the Fear gas creator. Being attacked by an angry Alien girl with a warrior background and perceived immunity had to be terrifying. Of course, Robin wouldn’t know the feeling. He was after all just that good.

“Oh, we should wait with him, Robin. The Scarecrow seems to enjoy our company,” Starfire beamed through slitted eyes.

He rolled his eyes at the quip before nervously stepping back for the upcoming officer to replace them.

“Nah, he’ll be fine with them. We should check on our the others.”

“Oh yes, our Friends,” she gasped tugging him along.

Another complicative feeling swelled within him for the day. He was glad she saw the team as her friends. He watched her call for them as they left the fog. 

“Robin?”

“Yeah, Star?”

“Are you, alright? You did not have protection against the gas.”

“My mentor had me exposed to Fear gas multiple times to build up immunity,” he rubbed his neck.

“That is the awful,” she mumbled.

“I guess. Although, Fear gas is practically a biweekly occurrence. Have to treat it like the flu or else you’d never manage,” he shrugged.

She hummed in response before stumbling over to their frends laid upon the beach. It seems Raven has found them and decides to let them soak up the sun. He shakes his head at the scene before him. Cyborg is in the process of starting up and Beast Boy is an armadillo. Robin tries not to think too hard about it as he trudges behind Starfire.

His eyes do drift over to the squad cars stationed behind the dunes. Officers tuck against the sleek metal as they eye the oncoming pair in uncertainty. They weren’t afraid of Robin; no, it was the strange sunkissed girl towering over him. Her eyes flickering in and out of a green glow as she tries to calm down Beast Boy.

They couldn’t have one normal day as expected, however, a frown tugs his sunglasses down. Beast Boy must’ve managed a strong hit due to his senses; Cyborg needs to finish rebooting, and Starfire seems unaffected. The young Alien must’ve escaped the toxins due to her genetics, he told himself. Then again, it was hard to tell as Aliens weren’t welcome in Gotham. He rubs his gloves in thought because for someone to not be affected…

“He will not do the uncurling,” Starfire mutters to him, “The antidote should be working, yes?”

“It might kick in later or throwing him off guard. Going from fear to disillusioned is brutal and he feels safe in that form. We shouldn’t push him.”

Starfire seems to accept his response as she merely stroked the green armadillo. She had long since pocketed the magical charms her friend had worn. He’d get it back when she was certain he was fine. Her lips curl as she watches Robin head towards the dunes. His hand stretches back for hers to grab and she did. 

The day did burn her out though not as much as her friends, she chides herself. Maybe, she wouldn’t do the suggesting of outings anytime soon.

[cosmicjoke]

Lestat and the loss of belief in his own humanity:

“I told her that the real pain for me as an evil being was that I understood goodness, and I respected it.  I had never been without a conscience.  But all my life- even as a mortal boy- I had always been required to go against my conscience to obtain anything of intensity or value.”

“I told her that I Had run off with a band of actors when I was a boy, committing an obvious sin of disobedience.  I had committed the sin of fornication with one of the young woman of the troupe  Yet those days, acting on the village stage and making love, had seemed of inestimable value!  “You see, that’s when I was alive, merely alive.  The trivial sins of a boy!  After I was dead, every step I took in the world was a commitment to sin, and yet at every turn I saw the sensual and the beautiful.”

“Was this human to want her understanding, this desperate fear that I would die in her arms, and no one would ever know who I’d been or what had taken place?

Ah, but the others, they knew, and they had not come to help me.”

“I won’t let you die,” she whispered in my ear.  But I heard the fear which she couldn’t disguise.  Sleep rolled over me, thinly, so that the room retained its shape, its color, its light.  I called upon the others again, begging Marius to help me.  I began to think of terrible things- that they were all there as so many small white statues with the Virgin and with Saint Rita, watching me, and refusing to help.”

This is so messed up.  You can literally see how Lestat’s experiences being in this mortal body, how this near death experience he’s had, and how the very real possibility of dying alone and unknown, unwanted, unloved, and not needed, is driving him to look back on his past as a mortal with a negative self-perception.  How it’s making him believe that pursuing his goals, going against the will of his father and brothers, was what he’d always feared it to be, some sort of proof of his inherently evil nature.  This idea born in Catholic guilt, that to pursue one���s desires, to indulge ones wants and needs, to try, in fact, to make oneself happy, is a sin, is inherently evil.  You can see how the misery of this experience for Lestat has totally reinforced this idea in his mind that his very nature, the greatness of his will, his refusal to accept defeat, his refusal to give up, makes him a bad person.

He continues to have visions of Clauda, scolding him, demanding that he confess his sins, that he admit to his lack of remorse for his past actions.

“Claudia, listen to me.  I didn’t begin it.  I didn’t make the world!  It was always there, this evil.  It was in the shadows, and it caught me, and made me part of it, and I did what I felt I must.  Don’t laugh at me, please, don’t turn your head away.  I didn’t make evil!  I didn’t make myself!”

“It wasn’t all anguish... It wasn’t hell.  Tell me it wasn’t.  Tell me there was happiness.  Can devils be happy?  Dear God, I don’t understand.”

“Yes, and I’m not sorry.  I’m not.  I would roar it from the rooftops right up into the dome of heaven.  Claudia, I would do it again!  I would do it again!”

“I am the ideal of my kind... I am the perfect vampire  You are looking at the Vampire Lestat when you look at me. No one outshines this figure you see before you- no one!  I am not time’s fool, nor a god hardened by the millennia; I am not the trickster in the black cape, nor the sorrowful wanderer.  I have a conscience.  I know right from wrong.  I know what I do, and yes, I do it.  I am the Vampire Lestat.  That’s your answer.  Do with it what you will.”

He’s totally convinced at this point of what he’s always been made to feel, from seemingly everyone, that to be himself is to be evil.  Nicki made him feel it, with his accusations that Lestat’s refusal to “go down”, that his “light” is what wrought Nicki’s own self-destruction.  Gabrielle made him feel it, with her annoyance and dismissal of his desire for her affection, by showing him that his desire to keep her with him was a burden on her own existence.  His father and brothers made him feel it, by forcing him again and again to come back home, by punishing him for running away, telling him he was selfish and that he had brought shame upon them all in trying to pursue his dreams.  Armand made him feel it, by blaming him for the destruction of his coven.  Louis and Claudia made him feel it, through their resentment and hatred of him and his silence, his inability to tell them the truth.  And now this experience, this awful, awful experience, this shattering of Lestat’s illusions as to what it means to be human, has sealed these negative self-beliefs.  He’s convinced himself that he always wanted to be what he is, that that’s why he hates being in this mortal body so much.  He doesn’t understand that it’s simply a lack of conditioning now, that he’s grown so accustomed to existing without the suffering and limitations of the human form, that to be suddenly thrust into that, and to have what has to be the worst possible experience of it, becoming so sick that he nearly dies, would make ANYONE want immediately to go back to the freedom and ease of being an immortal who is invulnerable to any form of illness, or pain, or physical misery.  This is just so fucking sad man.

“There’s no place for us on earth... Perhaps there was once, I don’t know.  The fact that we exist is no justification.  Hunters drove wolves from the world.  I thought if I revealed our existence that hunters would drive us from the world too.  But it wasn’t to be.  My brief career was a string of illusions.  No one believes in us.  And that’s how it’s meant to be.  Perhaps we are to die of despair, to vanish from the world very slowly, and without a sound.

Only I can’t bear it.  I can’t bear to be quiet and be nothing, and to take life with pleasure, and to see the creations and accomplishments of mortals all around me, and not to be part of them, but to be Cain.  The lonely Cain.  That’s the world to me, you see- what mortals do and have done.  It isn’t the great natural world at all.  If it was the natural world then maybe I would have had a better time of it being immortal than I did.  It’s the accomplishments of mortals.  The paintings of Rembrandt, the memorials of the capital city in the snow, great cathedrals.  And we are cut off eternally from such things, and rightfully so, and yet we see them with our vampire eyes.”

Lestat’s suffering is born from his humanity, and that’s what makes his belief in his inherent evil so awful and tragic.  He says it here himself, that the world to him is the world of man.  Not the natural world, but the accomplishments of man, art and science and human creation.  When he had his existential crisis, back when he was mortal, the natural world and it’s seeming meaninglessness made him despair completely.  His ONLY solace was in the beauty of the human will, his only port in the storm was to cling to the human ability to give OURSELVES meaning through our own creation, through our own wills and our own purpose.  To create something good, out of the chaos and pointlessness of the universe.  But Lestat was robbed of that ability when he was made into a vampire.  He was cut off from that human world he found his only solace in.  He was forever separated from it.  His very nature then was that of a predator, feeding off of human life to give himself pleasure, to make his meaningless existence better.  He felt, as a vampire, there was now nothing he could do to give his life purpose.  He simply existed now for no reason, as nature exists for no reason.  This is the very source of Lestat’s torment.  His inability to matter, to anything. 

“Why did you change bodies with a mortal man?”

“To walk in the sun again for one day.  To think and feel and breathe like a mortal.  Maybe to test a belief.”

“What was the belief?”

“That being mortal again was what we all wanted, that we were sorry that we’d given it up, that immortality wasn’t worth the loss of our human souls.  But I know now I was wrong.”

“I’d much rather be a vampire... I don’t like being mortal.  I don’t like being weak, or sick, or fragile, or feeling pain.  It’s perfectly awful.  I want my body back as soon as I can get it from that thief.”

“My greatest sin has always been that I have a wonderful time being myself.  My guilt is always there; my moral abhorrence for myself is always there; but I have a good time.  I’m strong; I’m a creature of great will and passion.  You see, that’s the core of the dilemma for me- how can I enjoy being a vampire so much, how can I enjoy it if it’s evil?

And yet, again, his experience in this story, the misery he goes through as a mortal man, is so terrible, that it drives him to want to return to his immortal, vampiric form, and that desire to escape his misery by becoming a vampire once again reinforces Lestat’s belief that he’s inherently evil.  He thinks he can’t possibly be good, because he’s convinced now that his desire to be a part of the human world, to be able to do good in the world, was a lie.  It wasn’t.  That part of Lestat, that desire to matter and to do something that matters, to do good, was always real.  It’s STILL real.  But because he wants to escape the fear and horror and misery of being in this weak, vulnerable and sick body, he thinks he must have always wanted it, and that he’s been lying to himself this whole time about his guilt, about his feelings of remorse, about the pain he feels over what he is.  Again, none of that is a lie.  Lestat’s pain and remorse is as real a part of him as anything.  But he’s always been made to believe by those around him that his will, his perseverance, his refusal to accept defeat, is a destructive force, an inherently evil force.  His enjoyment in being a vampire, his embracing of his vampiric nature, his reveling in it, is a PRODUCT of that will and perseverance.  It isn’t because Lestat is evil.  It isn’t because he always wanted to be a vampire and just didn’t care about the death and misery being a vampire caused.  It was that Lestat, no matter what situation he’s in, no matter how hopeless or impossible the odds seem, or how miserable his conditions are, will always make the best of it.  No matter what the situation is, Lestat will always fight through, because that’s who he is.  He has an incredible will and an incredible ability to hope and to endure.  But he convinces himself here that his taking a horrible situation and making it work for him (being a vampire) is because he’s just a very bad guy.  Truly, truly, this is tragic.  I can’t even put into words how tragic this is.

I find Lestat’s sexual encounter  with the nun who nurses him back to health incredibly revealing, when comparing it to his sexual encounter with the woman from the cafe. 

Lestat ends up forcing himself on the woman from the cafe because he was in a place of horrified fear and disappointment and misery, brought on by how utterly unprepared he was for being mortal again.  He was approaching everything with the attitude of someone who was still a vampire, who still had his vampiric abilities, and in finding those abilities gone, had become incredibly hurt and exposed, stumbling into countless errors and bad situations.  He barreled into that encounter with the desperation of a man trying to salvage just one, positive experience to match up with what his memories of what being mortal was like.  Everything leading up to it was frantic, and tortured and lonely, laced with panic and terror and uncertainty.  He doesn’t think of the woman or what he’s doing because he’s so sunk in his own misery. 

By contrast, his experience with the nun is the complete opposite.  He’s thoughtful and considerate and careful with her, painfully aware of himself and holding himself in check, making sure he doesn’t hurt her.  He’s become used to being in this human form.  She’s nursed him back to health, shown him incredible kindness and acceptance, spoken with him deeply about God and philosophy and shown him understanding and no judgment.  Everything seems better to him suddenly as he begins to recover.  The food tastes good, where before it tasted like glue and salt, the warmth of the bed he’s in feels wonderful, it feels good to drink wine. He’s experiencing the high of recovering ones health after a near death experience. 

He isn’t approaching this sexual encounter with her the way he had with the woman from the cafe.  There, he was still unprepared and unable to accept his new found mortal limitations.  There, he was still in the mindset of the vampire.  He got so sick in the first place because he wasn’t able to let go of what he was used to, and had been used to, for the past 210 years of his life. 

Here, he’s accepted and understands his limitations now, he’s almost died, and he’s recovered, he’s been mortal for several days and several nights now.  He’s let his human nature take over again, and that human nature is leading and guiding him.  He approaches her like a mortal man.  It isn’t the thought of blood that arouses him now, it’s her living warmth and flesh.

“No thoughts came to me of the blood drinking; no thought at all of the thunder of the life inside her which I might have consumed, a dark draught, at another time.  Rather the moment was perfumed with the soft heat of her living flesh.  And it seemed vile that anything could harm her, anything mar the common mystery of her- of her trust and her yearning and her deep and common fear.”

“A wave of protectiveness passed over me when I looked at her sleeping face, when I thought of the soft distracted look I had seen in her eyes.  Even her voice was tinged with a deep melancholy.  There was something about her which suggested a profound resignation.  Whatever happened, I would not leave her, I thought, until I knew what I could do to repay her.  Also I liked her.  I liked the darkness inside her, the concealed quality of her, and the simplicity of her speech and movements, the candor in her eyes.”

“Had it been a union?  Were we one with each other in this clamorous silence?

I don’t think that it was union.  On the contrary, it seemed the most violent of seperations; two contrary beings flung at each other in heat and clumsiness, in trust and in menace, the feelings of each unknowable and unfathomable to the other- the sweetness terrible as its brevity; its loneliness hurtful as its undeniable fire.

And never had she looked so frail to me as she did now, her eyes closed, her head turned into the pillow, her breasts no longer heaving but very still.  It seemed an image to provoke violence- to beckon to the most wanton cruelty in a male heart.

Why was this so?

I didn’t want any other mortal to touch her!

I didn’t want her own guilt to touch her.  I didn’t want regret to hurt her, or for any of the evils of the human mind to come near her.”

Lestat is so convinced of his own, inherent evil now, brought on by his desire to get out of the horror of being mortal, that he doesn’t see what he’s like when he’s not a vampire.  He wants to protect this woman, he sees the beauty in her, and is gentle with her, and kind to her.  He wants to repay her for her kindness, and he admires her for her goodness.  Lestat doesn’t see that this is his human nature, a nature which still exists within his vampiric form, but which must battle with his predatory vampiric nature. 

The greatest tragedy of this story, of this experience for Lestat of being mortal again, is in how it’s made him lose belief in his own humanity, in his own goodness.  And that tragedy is really driven home in moments like this, where we see that humanity, where we see that goodness, but we know Lestat himself is absolutely blind to it, convinced instead of his own monstrosity, mortal or vampire.

This exchange between them really says it all

“Come, lie down and sleep.  There’s time for me to heal and for you to be certain it’s what you really want.  I wouldn’t dream of forcing you, of doing anything cruel to you.”

“But why, if you’re the devil, can you speak with such kindness?”

“I told you, that’s the mystery.  Or it’s the answer, one or the other.  Come, come lie beside me.”

Lestat was once like this woman, Gretchen, wanting only to do good in the world, to make some sort of difference through acts of good.  He’s still that person, deep in his soul.  It’s why Mojo loves him and hates Raglan James, because the dog could sense the difference between them, despite Lestat being a vampire.  But Lestat’s been too long a vampire now to ever be fully human again.  He can’t go back to being mortal.  

The mystery is that Lestat is a good man who once refused to be turned into a vampire despite his overwhelming fear of death and its meaninglessness, but who was turned anyway against his will, and so who’s inherent goodness now must forever be at odds with the inherent evil of his vampirism. 

Lestat’s visions of Claudia, the conversations he has with Claudia are, I think, Lestat having a conversation with his own conscience.  And when he comes at last to this conclusive belief in his own evil, there’s this exchanged with Gretchen

“There is a secret reason you came down to earth,” she said, “that you came into the body of a man.  Same reason that Christ did it.”

“And that is?”

“Redemption,” she said.

“Ah, yes, to be saved.  Now wouldn’t that be lovely?”

I wanted to say more, how perfectly impossible it was to even consider such a thing, but I was sliding away, into a dream.  And I knew Claudia would not be there.

Maybe it wasn’t a dream after all, only a memory.  I was with David in Rijksmuseum and we were both looking at the great painting by Rembrandt.

To be saved.  What a thought, what a lovely, extravagant, and impossible thought... How nice to have found the one mortal woman in all the world who would seriously think of such a thing.

And Claudia wasn’t laughing anymore.  Because Claudia was dead.”

He says Claudia isn’t laughing anymore at him, that she won’t be there anymore when he dreams, because she’s dead.  He really means his own conscience is dead.  His humanity is dead.  That’s what he believes.

That’s the tragedy of Lestat.  That’s what makes this story so powerful and so heartbreaking.  Truly, this book is brilliant.

[augment-techs]

Blood and Crimson for the ask game for Skulll :3

Oh, THIS is such a fun question, because I'm pretty sure it's LONG since happened and the comic canon is just too chickenshit to address a BIG elephant in the room about Skull. Remember when he was dating Candice, aka Zelya of Eltar, aka the girl who lied about her entire background and vanished into thin air when Zedd covered Angel Grove in a dome? Who did not bother letting Skull know she was alive and okay, and absolutely did not clue in anyone else to her status before she left back to Eltar? Let's keep something very important in mind: she was filed as a missing person by Skull in the aftermath of it becoming very clear that he had no contact with any family she might have had. And when someone is listed as a missing person, you go through certain motions. You check familiar locations, school, possible home addresses, the hospitals, the cop shops, the shelters, you ring in asking about the person to counties nearby... And then you go to the morgue with a picture or general description of the lost person. You give THEM your contact information and if a dead body comes in with enough markers listed, you go and take a look. Skull lives in Angel Grove, that is constantly bombarded by aliens. We know in the comics that people are WELL in harms way no matter what the Rangers do. I don't think he would have involved Bulk in this particular part of the search, but you can be certain that he was called in at least a couple times before Zelya revealed herself--and possibly more when you realize that Skull could not possibly go to the authorities with any proof that "Candice" was no longer missing and perfectly safe without sounding utterly insane. So...he wouldn't like it, would probably have to vomit after each look and confirmation that the body in question was not the missing girl he was looking for, would shake and cry in his car... but he'd still survive. It would imprint on him like mold behind a wall, black mold at that, but he'd still go back for as long as was necessary.

This has a lot of possibilities. For one thing, I don't think it would be especially hard for him to commit the act, I think it would just be hard for him to make himself go through with it without complete and absolute necessity.

So, here's what I think: he would kill someone he knows if they were out of their mind due to falling into absolute darkness with no hope of ever returning and aiming to kill him, or he would kill someone that was going to kill a complete helpless other with no sign of remorse or stopping themself. Now, if they were just hurting him, he would deflect or flee or disarm. If they were simply hurting someone else just to be a prick, but without the implication of murder, he would beat them until they were unconscious.

I have this very ideal image in my head of his being incredibly terrifying if someone like Goldar attacked a child or one of the Rangers that weren't Powered up because he was ordered to make an example. You can make a weapon out of just about anything, and because Goldar just LOVES making a mess in or around the Juice Bar, I think Skull could get away with breaking a glass and blinding the bastard before shoving the long end of a spoon up through the bottom of his chin into the roof of his mouth so he could choke on his own blood before Skull broke both of his legs and smashed his head into the ground with a resounding crack. Yes, I get that he and Bulk technically don't know Rita's and Zedd's minions on any intimate level, but with all the crap they go through and with the baddies ALL knowing the duo by name, it kind of counts.