#slic of life

[sturnsrecord]

QUIET

⌇ matt sturniolo. smut, angst

you’re not sure if you like it or not, the way matt fades in and out of your life so easily — well, easy for him.

you spend the days when he’s not there thinking about him, mostly a version of him you wish you had. and when he was around, you tortured yourself for loving his presence so much — almost embarrassed by the unrequited nature of it.

that every touch was simply a fulfilment for him, but an agonising sense of affection for you.

it didn’t have to hurt, you didn’t have to do this.

yet you did.

maybe it was the small piece of him you got every time he was beneath your sheets — treating you like you were his. or the mere comfort of his presence that you’d stupidly grown to love.

maybe the pain you felt was all worth it just to have him the way you did, worshipping you just for a fleeting moment — coming to you when he really needed it.

or maybe you hated yourself, and didn’t care enough to truly give yourself what you deserved — too weak to let him go, too afraid to deal with the loss just for a lifetime of freedom.

although a part of you knew you’d always end up back here, yearning for just an ounce of attention or affection from him in a way that made you weak and vulnerable — because he knew you needed it.

and maybe it was fucked up of him, and even you, to persist with it. showing up whenever he wanted just to give you whatever he wanted. all because he knew you’d take it.

this was no different. hearing your apartment door unlock and open with the keys you’d so willingly handed over, the door gently shutting a second later.

it was stupid how your nerves ran with excitement, body already growing hot at the prospect of him being back.

your bedroom door creaks open, a faint shadow of him slipping in through your dreary eyes, moving past the bed where he took off his coat and all the rest.

and there you were, unable to calm the rush in your body as the mattress dipped and the heat of his body next to yours consumed you.

you turn in the bed, moving closer to him as his eyes peel open and his arm wraps around you. “did i wake you?” he asks quietly, arm resting beneath his pillow for his fingers to gently tangle into your hair.

“no.” you whisper back, unable to resist the way his touch made your head spin — like you felt incredibly grateful that you had been awake.

more often then not, you’d wake up to find him in your bed — contently asleep after sneaking in the night before, just to fuck you in the morning before you both went your seperate ways.

but this was better, your favourite. late nights together, even the early hours of the morning — the exact time where he’d decided to come see you, the time where he needed you most.

and oh did you love giving it to him.

he doesn’t say much, only slipping his hand further down your body until it finds its way to your underwear — feeling how wet you are like always, feeling the way he does so much to you.

it’s all so smooth and almost sensual, making you question if this really all was just sex. but then you’re reminded by your own thoughts, that matt was just good at this, and he knew how to make women feel good — not just you.

despite the thought, it added to his charm and the attraction you had towards him. like you didn’t even dare to beg the question of how many women he touched like this, because in the moment he made you feel like you were the only one. and for some reason, that was always enough.

the way he’d run his hands over your body, letting them rest where they needed to. teasing yet immediate as his fingers found your clit over your underwear — rubbing slow circles that made your mind spin.

he didn’t speak or dig for any kind of validation from you, earning enough from the way your body melted into his and your face turned into utter bliss.

he simply let it all happen, never failing to make you feel good in such an infuriatingly calm way — like he knew your body like the back of his hand.

he’d slide his fingers between your slick folds before sinking them into your heat, never cocky or obnoxious about the way you’d whine out his name — arching into his touch as his fingers curled up to graze your g-spot like it was nothing.

“f-fuck matt.” you moan, voice breathy and needy as he kisses down your neck — almost soothing your moans away as he gives you more.

but you can’t help but speak, curling your fingers into his hair as your hips rock against his hand. “feels good.” you whine. he simply hums against your skin, breath hot on your neck before his lips start working their way over your pulse — soft yet harsh in their existence.

how he’d find that spot that made your toes curl, sucking gently on your neck only to stop before it left a mark — refusing to leave any trace of what he was giving you. it was agonising, and made you want to beg for more, but instead he’d always find another spot — working his way between them almost tactfully.

clouding your mind with pleasure before you could even begin to question his ways, or more rather, if you were getting what you wanted. because he gave you a lot, focused on your pleasure, usually drawing out multiple orgasms before his dick was even involved.

it made you feel special, and even more, stopped every nagging thought that had you questioning the treatment you got from him. but then again, that seemed to be part of his act.

giving you everything he could just to avoid the things you needed.

he remained calm and almost concentrated with whatever it was he was doing to you, almost like it was an act of service. and if it weren’t for the way you’d feel his dick harden against your leg, you might’ve assumed he was nothing more than a selfless man, providing you with the skilled pleasure of his mouth and fingers.

only when he settles between your legs, sheets wrapped around your joint bodies as his cock slips into your heat — do you truly feel like he gives a part of himself to you.

there’s no act or avoidance of any vulnerablity as he grinds his hips closer and his dick deeper, letting out a strangled groan that is so unmistakably real and raw. the sound claws at you — keeping you awake at night whenever you’re missing him.

it’s something you can’t shake or ever get over, because it’s so him. the way his eyes shut and his head falls to your shoulder, shallow breaths brushing over your skin. the fact that you were doing that to him, it was an irreplaceable feeling.

you held onto every tight grasp he had on you when his dick pumped in and out, or every quiet gasp of a ‘fuck’ that hit your ear and spread throughout your body. it all stayed with you, reappearing in your dreams and lonely thoughts as both a blessing and a curse.

either way, you encouraged it. wrapping your legs around his hips to draw him closer — feeling the way his cock would slip further into you, filling you up with the feeling you craved from only him, all before he’d pull back.

you’d moan about how good it felt, making it clear how much you loved it. and whilst he listened to what you liked and always accommodated to the things that got you truly riled up — his hand would always find its way to your mouth. pressing over you lips to muffle your sounds as he held you close and rutted into you so perfectly.

so perfect, and so quiet — like it almost never happened.

𐔌 ©.STURNSRECORD

[ghostofthemost141]

Pretty

Pt. 1 Pt.2 Pt.3

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 2,488

Themes: Angst, Self Loathing

About: After the end of the zombie apocalypse, the world may be back to normal, but your life is at a standstill as Task Force 141 works to try and find a reverse cure for your boyfriend Ghost.

Notes: This was inspired by a little drabble someone wrote here on Tumblr and when I went to try and find it, I couldn't find it so if someone finds it please let me know so I can give credit to them since this short is based off of that post. I also decided not to use (Y/N) for this one and instead everyone calls you Dolly, which means a gift of God that Simon gave you. Hope you enjoy!

How long does this have to go on for? I feel as if this is torture to keep him in here. I just want to reach in there and hold his hand, but it wouldn’t do me any good. It would hurt more, much, more. 

“‘Ou in here, Dolly?” A thick, accented voice came through, calling me by my nickname. 

“Hm.” I respond back, not taking my eyes off of him. 

It was Johnny, coming to check on me for the millionth time. It’s going to be the same old, same old so I don’t know why he even bothers at this point. Johnny stopped next to me, him standing and me sitting on the ground, as he stared into the incubator containment thing that was across the room. Every once in a while, he will make a groaning or growling noise at me, but that was it. 

“Dinner is ready. Price sent me to fetch ya.” Johnny told me. 

“Just do it without me.” I mumbled, not moving my eye contact. 

Johnny sighed in slight annoyance, but I ignored it. 

“You gotta come eat with us, Dolly. He wouldn’t want you to do that to yourself.” 

I tightly shut my eyes together, hearing what he used to sound like in my head, as if he was scolding me. But that voice would never come, for his husky, deep voice was replaced by deep gutter growls that don’t mean nothing but the fact that I am his next meal. 

You need to eat, love. S’not good for you to not eat.

I could almost hear him saying it, but it was just my mind playing tricks on me. 

“I just want to be alone, McTavish.” I strongly said. 

Johnny sighed, but remained where he was at. I wanted to yell at him, but I didn’t have the strength nor energy to do it. 

“We are still lookin’ and tryin’, you know that righ’?” 

I nodded in response, knowing what he was going to say. He says it every time he catches me in here. 

“I’ll save ya a plate.” 

Johnny finally turned and exited the room. It’s not that I didn’t mind the company, it’s just that I am tired of hearing the same old shit. 

“We are still lookin’ and tryin’, you know that righ’?” 

“It’s hard to find a cure, kid.” 

“We are doing our best.” 

“He will be cured soon.” 

Soon. Soon. I feel like they are just lying to me at this point. I know they are just trying to keep my spirits afloat, but how can you when the person you love the most is kept in solitude in order to prevent him from turning you? His eyes were a cloudy white instead of his normal bright, blue azure eyes. They’ve managed to keep his organs and body alive so when we do, or if we find a cure his body will be normal, as if he was never turned in the first place. It wasn’t the fact that he turned that scared me the most, it was the fact that as soon as Simon realized he was bitten, he tried to break his own jaw to prevent him from hurting us. In retrospect, he was doing it to protect us, but he only stopped when I was basically wrestling him to not do it, in case we found a cure. That was the last time his beautiful, piercing eyes looked into mine with so much emotion. Simon is stubborn and always wants to do things his way, but for once in his life, he listened to me. It wasn’t long after that he turned. I watched him turn and before he did, Simon made me promise that if he tried to hurt me, that I would stop him, by any means necessary. Ironically enough, and kind of funny, but Simon as a zombie is nothing compared to how slick and quick he is in real life. The rest of the task force was able to apprehend him before he could even come close to me and stick him in the incubator, where he has been staying in for the past month. I miss him so much. I never thought I would miss our miserable times out in the field or us sitting outside in the miserable freezing cold because it was the only time we could get some alone time together or even us sparring together. I just want Simon back. A deep grumble in my stomach brought me back to reality. Johnny is right. For once he is right. I stretched my arms and legs out, stood up on my feet, and began to walk out of the room. 

“Rrrrrrr..” 

A deep growl came from the incubator. I turned to find Simon leaning onto the glass, those clouded eyes piercing through my soul. 

“I’ll be back, Simon, I promise.” 

A deep hiss came from his throat, his arm reaching out as if he was trying to reach for me. I can’t watch this, it hurts me so much. I immediately walked out of the room, and shut the door behind me, hearing his growls grow louder. I don’t know if that is his way of trying to communicate with us or he is truly… I shook my thoughts away and made my way to the dining hall. 

~ 

I almost envy the guys. They can just pretend that everything is normal and there’s nothing going on, meanwhile my partner, the love of my life, is stuck in his own hell prison. They always try to uplift my spirits and sometimes it works, but on days like today, I’d rather be left alone than try and pretend that everything is okay. As soon as I was done eating, I just went into my room to go to sleep. I didn’t have the heart to go back into the incubator room. Whether or not he was still conscious in his mind, it still hurt me to see him like that. I like to think he is, but that honestly makes me feel worse knowing he is trapped in his own mind and body, while we aren’t even close to finding a cure. 

“Oh Si..” I grumbled, trying to contain my tears, “I’m so sorry.” 

The tears escaped my eyes, running rapidly down my face, as the memories of him and I came flooding back, from when he was human, before this apocalypse happened. I came to the task force two years ago and it is kind of embarrassing to say but I was head over heels for Simon as soon as I saw him. The more missions we did together, the harder I fell for him. Maybe it was his attitude, or the mask, or his accent, but I was falling hard. It wasn’t until one night were the entire task force had been drinking more than they should and Simon ended up following me back to my room that night. It was as if we had been together for years prior to that, we just clicked so much. We started dating in secret and it wasn’t until right before the apocalypse happened, that we were busted by Price. Of course he wasn’t happy about it, but by the time everything went down, he didn’t care at that point. Simon was protecting me when he got bit and it was my own damn fault. I wasn’t paying attention and Simon took the bite for me. He shouldn’t have. I should be dead right now and he should be alive. Not me, no, not me. I deserve it after all because Simon is the reason why he is trapped in his own body. We are never going to find a cure. And it is all because of-

*KnockKnock*

“Hey Doll?” 

Price. 

“Come in..” I mumbled. 

The door swung open, emitting the hallway light into my pitch black room. 

“Oh, blimey. You’re gonna ruin your eyesight in ‘ere.” Price commented. 

I just shrugged my shoulders in response. 

“Just came to check in on ya. I managed to get a hold of a base that's a bit of a drive, but it could be our chance.” 

“Are you for real this time?” I ask urgently. 

“As real as shiet, Dolly.” Price confirmed, earning a chuckle out of me. 

I sighed, with some relief in mind. 

“We will get ‘im back. I promised yous that a long time ago and I damn well intend to keep that promise. You hear?” 

“I hear ya, Captain.” I said. 

“Alright, goodnight, Dolly.” 

“Goodnight.” I softly said as Price shut my door, and walked off. 

There is some good in this life. I will soon have my Simon back and we will be back in each other's arms, cuddling, fucking, drinking tea, watching shitty rom-com movies, and much more. He will be back. He will be..

~

…

…

…

..rrrrr

What? What the fuck was that? 

.rrrrrrrr.

I wanted to move but for some reason that noise paralyzed me into being still. It sounded familiar and that is what scared me the most. 

Rrrrrrrrrrr. 

It was louder and closer this time. Please don’t tell me-

Rahhhhhhhhh

I jolted out of bed, grabbing the hidden knife I have in my mattress and cornered it into my room. 

Rah..rah..

What the hell was this? Or who the hell was it? Keeping my eye on what it was, I slowly tip-toed backwards to my room light and flicked it on, my heart dropping. 

“What?” 

“How?” 

I mumbled out loud, seeing Simon standing there, staring at me with those hideous clouded eyes. 

“How did you get out?” I tearfully pleaded, knowing he can’t respond. 

Simon just stared, slowly stepping towards me, groaning in the process. I kept my knife in front of me, just in case. 

“Listen to me love. If I try to bite you, you end me no matter what? Do ‘ou understand?” 

Simon’s words echoed in my head, remembering what he told me. I didn’t want to do this, no, please don’t make me do this. 

“S-Stay away, please.” I croaked. 

Simon kept sauntering towards me, slowly and surely, his growls and moans getting louder the closer he got to me. Everytime he stepped forward, I stepped back. I needed to obey his words, but I couldn't. I can’t do it. 

“Simon. Please.” 

“Dahhhhh….” 

I could feel my whole body start to shake as I realized Simon pinned me into a corner. The closer he got, the more my heart raced. This is it. This was it. I am going to die. But I’d rather die than kill the love of my life. 

“Si..” 

I sunk down, dropped the knife, and held my face as he got up as close as he humanely could. 

“D-Don’t..p-please.” 

I sobbed, holding myself. 

“Doll..” 

What? Did he just.. No he didn’t, it’s all in my head. I am dead now, I just haven’t felt the pain yet of his teeth sinking into my-

“Dolllllyyyyy…” 

That time I heard it. That was real. Getting some kind of courage, I stopped hiding my face and looked up at him. Simon was leaning down, looking at me, but his face was different. The same clouded eyes were there, but it was as if he was marveling at me. 

“Simon?” 

“Dooolllllyyyyyy…” 

Dolly. He was calling me Dolly. My nickname he had given me when we first started seeing each other. I never knew Simon Riley would be expected to give someone a nickname but he did. His voice was deep and guttural, but I could hear his accent peeking out. 

“Simon, are you there?” I asked, standing up on my feet. 

“Rrrrrr….preeetttyyyy Dolllllyyyyy.” 

“Oh Si..” I leaned in, holding his cheeks. 

He still had most of his gear on, except he had his balenciaga mask on instead of his skull mask. I wanted to take it off so bad to really see his beautiful face, but it scared me to do so. Even though he was consciously still there, there was no telling what he would do out of his control. Tears ran rapid down my face, knowing that this confirmed my worst fear, that he was trapped within his own mind. 

“Dolllyyyyyyy..cryyyinnngggggg…” Simon growled out. 

I quickly wiped away my tears to not worry him. 

“No, no I am fine, Simon, I promise.” I reassured him. 

*BANG* 

“GET HIM!!” 

“RAAHHHHHHHHH” 

“NO DON’T-” 

In two seconds flat, Price and them busted in, angered Simon, and subdued him. The growls that came from Simon were so animalistic, as if he was no longer Simon. 

“He could’ve bit you!!” Soap shouted at me. 

“No, he recognized me! He called me Dolly!” I swore as Price, Gaz, and Soap were struggling to keep Simon contained. 

“This’ll do.” Price mumbled as he took out a serum that would knock his ass out. 

Simon saw it and cried out in animalistic rage, but the three of them managed to keep him on the ground. 

“Wait, wait, please!!” I screamed. 

The three men turned to me, waiting for what I was going to do next, but kept their arms and body weight on top of Simon. I got on my knees and approached Simon, who was thrashing around and growling at the three of them. 

“Si.” I call him, his cloudy eyes immediately locking with me. 

“We need to travel to get a cure, but we are almost there. I promise you.” I croaked, feeling the same tears and sadness returning. 

“Rr..rrr. Dolllyyyyy.” 

“Yes, I am Dolly. Your Dolly, Simon.” I comforted him, holding his cheek and running my thumb over the free skin that was on his face. 

The tears fell down my face, as Simon relaxed into my touch. 

“Pretttyyyyy..Dolllllyyyyyy.” 

Before I could even react, Price injected the serum into Simon, who didn’t even react and only kept his focus on me. 

“Dolll…yyyyy.” 

Simon’s cloudy eyes then shut and remained still. I could feel the three men look at me. 

“Fuck..” Gaz mumbled as he, Soap, and Price got off of the almost lifeless Simon. 

I had cried out all of the tears that were left in me. 

“Sweetie..” Price approached me. 

I raised my head up and looked at him, in which he had a very genuine smile on his face. 

“We gotta pack up now so we can head up ‘Orth and save your hubby.” Price told me. 

I chuckled hearing him call Simon my hubby, despite us not being married. 

“Yes, Captain.” I said, getting my composure together. 

Price grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet. I stared at the still Simon, who was breathing normally as if he was not what he was right now. But the thought of it being so close to him being back to normal, makes me so happy. We are nearly there, Simon, we are nearly there. 

“Alright, let’s load up gang.” 

END

[fartfacedfuck]

Oh my fucking God I have so many AU ideas in my head and I don't know which one to actually make! Like there's the one I have th most set up, and then there's like atleest threee others I want to do! So I'm just going to make a list

1: sunnier days AU, bill Gose through about two and a half million years (literal) of theraprisim before suddenly being taken of all medication and put in a human body, this of course is not taken well and he ends up clawing out his right eye as well as a few lles serious wounds. Despite this the theraprisim still sends him off to the pines family for redemption. This AU would mostly focused on mental health and building relationships, although of course it will have a bit of a billford side plot.

2: idiots with guns AU, during the reunion fight ford shoots stan, stan becomes a ghost and is posed at first but that winds down later. In Despare and desperation ford calls Fidleford and *begs* him to comeback, Fidleford dosent want to but agrees becouse divorce and him allso having problems. So now ford fidleford and stan are in the same house experience stan is dead and the other two are working on reviving him, chaos and homosexuality insues. (Fidlestan)

3:second times the charm AU, Mabel and dipper head back to gravity falls three years later (there fifteen about to turn sixteen I think) stan is mostly healed from the memory gun, fidleford is doing better but still has some short-term memory issues as well as memory's from before weirdmagedon being really fuzzy. Stanford is researching an much happier but still dealing with trauma. This one will have fidlestan, dipifica and Mabel being a lesbian who eventually gets with some girl haven't worked out the details yet ¯\_(　´∀｀)_/¯

4:Starlight AU,the axolotl interviens after the eaclidian massacre and brings bill to earth when the stan twins are twelve (bill is twelve when he destroys Euclida) so bill grows up with the stan twins, learning his powers as well as the human way of life. This will have lots of billford and allso fidlestan becouse I say so (let's assume that fidleford moved to new jersey)

5:I can't think of a name for this one but it's about fidleford and stan trying to get ford back. bills fucking with them a bit becouse I can't resist adding him in. there's lot of angst between stan being a general mess and fidleford using the memory gun. It would have them looking at anomalies becouse anomalies are fucking cool. And it's mostly going to be slic of life becouse I want to.

I have more but these are the main ones,If you have anyothers suggestions are absolutely welcome, If not I'd deeply appreciate you giving your opinion on which of these to work on becouse I have no idea 😅

[hlples-s]

Picnic Day - Alexander Hamilton and Elizabeth Schuyler

a/n: After a long, long time, I'm back! It took me too long to do this, but here I am! With something new from Hamliza <3

divider credit: @uzmacchiato

The day was pleasant, Eliza's eyes wandered over the small clothes that her sisters had brought her for the little one on the way, Alexander, a busy man yes, but when it came to pampering Betsy he did it without saying a word.

— Betsy? Are you there? Everything okay? Did you get what your sisters brought you?—he said quickly as his eyes fell on the small clothes on the bed

— If this answers all your questions, I think so. They are beautiful, Alex, this is beautiful... — Eliza said as she put one of the socks next to the outfit.

Alexander stepped into the room, his warm smile lighting up the cozy space. His gaze softened as he noticed Eliza’s hands lingering over the tiny socks and a onesie adorned with little stars. The sight tugged at his heart. For a moment, the busy world outside their home faded, leaving only the promise of the new life they were about to welcome.

—They’re perfect, aren’t they?— he said, moving closer. His voice was low, almost reverent, as if he didn’t want to disturb the precious atmosphere. —Your sisters have excellent taste. Just like you.—

Eliza laughed, a sound that filled the room like sunshine. —Oh, Alex, I didn’t pick these. They’re all from their hearts. Though I suppose if I’d chosen, they’d still be just as wonderful.—

Alexander reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. —You look radiant, Betsy.—

Her cheeks flushed, and she gently swatted his hand away. —Don’t make me blush, Alex. I’m a mess most of the time these days.—

—Nonsense — he countered, sitting beside her on the bed. —You’re incredible. Carrying our little one, making this house feel like home every day… I’m in awe of you.—

Eliza’s heart swelled, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. The two of them sat there in quiet companionship for a moment, their hands instinctively finding each other.

—Let’s take a break— Alexander suggested suddenly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. —The weather’s too good to waste indoors. How about a picnic?—

Eliza’s eyes lit up. —A picnic? Oh, Alex, we haven’t done that in ages. But what about—

—Everything else?— he interrupted. —It can wait. Today, it’s just us, a basket of food, and some fresh air. What do you say?—

Her hesitation melted into excitement. —Alright, but you’re in charge of packing the basket.—

He chuckled, standing up and rolling up his sleeves. —Consider it done. You just sit back and relax. I’ll have us ready in no time.—

As he bustled away to prepare, Eliza looked down at the baby clothes again. Her fingers traced the delicate stitching. A tender smile spread across her face. For the first time in weeks, she felt the world slow down. Today wasn’t just any day—it was a day to cherish the simple joys, to celebrate the life they were building together.

A few moments later, Alexander reappeared with a picnic basket in one hand and a blanket draped over his arm. —Ready, my love?—

—Let’s go— she replied, taking his hand as they stepped into the golden sunlight. The day stretched ahead of them, full of promise and peace.

As they stepped outside, the sun was warm but not overbearing, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming wildflowers. The world seemed alive, a perfect backdrop for a day of ease and laughter. Alexander led the way toward a small grove just beyond their house, where a grassy clearing waited, dappled with sunlight filtering through the trees.

—This spot’s perfect— he said, setting the basket down and spreading out the blanket. He patted the fabric with a flourish and grinned. —Welcome to our private dining room.—

Eliza laughed, easing herself down onto the blanket with his help. —It’s perfect, Alex. Thank you.—

From the basket, Alexander began unpacking their simple feast: sandwiches wrapped in parchment paper, a jar of strawberry preserves, slices of cheese, and a small cake that Eliza immediately recognized.

—You made the spice cake?— she asked, surprised.

—Of course— he replied, unwrapping it with a sheepish smile. —it’s your favorite. Besides, I needed to use up those spices before they lost their magic.—

She reached over and squeezed his hand. —You’re incredible, you know that?—

He shrugged, but the flush on his cheeks was undeniable. —Just doing my best.—

They sat side by side, savoring the food and the tranquility. Birds chirped melodiously above, and the occasional rustle in the bushes hinted at small woodland creatures going about their day. Eliza leaned back on her hands, letting the sun kiss her face.

—So— Alexander began, breaking the comfortable silence. —What do you think our little one will be like? Will they love picnics as much as we do?—

Eliza chuckled. —I think they’ll love whatever we show them. If you keep up the spice cakes and picnics, I don’t think they’ll complain.—

He tilted his head, imagining the future. —Do you think they’ll be a dreamer like you or a planner like me?—

—Hopefully a bit of both— she replied thoughtfully. —But whatever they are, they’ll be loved beyond measure.—

Alexander reached for the guitar he had tucked into the basket. —Well, if they’re going to be a dreamer, I’d better start teaching them the right music.—

The music floated on the breeze, and Eliza found herself humming along. Before long, her head rested against Alexander’s shoulder, her eyes drifting closed. The gentle melody, the warmth of the day, and the promise of the life they were building lulled her into a rare and peaceful moment of contentment.

When the song ended, Alexander set the guitar down and looked at her. —Betsy?—

—hm?— she murmured, her eyes still closed

—Thank you for this— he said quietly. —For everything.—

She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. —it’s not just me, Alex. We’re in this together.—

He nodded, and they sat in silence for a while longer, the world around them a perfect cocoon of joy and tranquility. The day stretched on, each moment a testament to the beauty of the simple, shared joys of life.

taglist: @hamliza-trash @pippasop @koriees @blow-us-all-away-died

[xuchiya]

CHOI JONGHO || LIBRARY-LIST

wonderful time of the year - one-shot // FLUFF

keep it quiet - drabble // SMUT

against the window - drabble // SMUT

always, my love - drabble // ANGST, COMFORT-ENDING

underneath the stars - one-shot // FLUFF

freaky deaky - one-shot // SMUT

brewing romance - one-shot // FLUFF

a dream - one-shot // FLUFF

important - one-shot // FLUFF, small ANGST

space - drabble // SMUT

undercover agent - one-shot // FLUFF, small tinge of ANGST, VIOLENCE

ghost {aughost! , final!aughost} - two-shots // SLICE OF LIFE, ANGST

3 point for the pretty lady - one-shot // FLUFF, HIGHSCHOOL LIFE

you are the star of my christmas - [request] one-shot // FLUFF

I'll hold your hand, eventually - [request] one-shot // ANGST, FLUFF

the bare minimum - one-shot // FLUFF, SLIC OF LIFE, small tinge of ANGST

soft cheeks, softer hearts - [request] - one-shot // FLUFF

[tylerlolong]

Slic of life.

[evelhak]

18, 26, 65, and 73 for the fic writer asks :)

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

It depends a lot. I just let titles come to me, and sometimes they are the first thing I know about the story, sometimes they come to me during writing, especially if I'm aware that the title I started with is indeed likely to be a working title and not the final one. Though usually I know what I want to call the work pretty effortlessly, so I'd say most of the time I know as soon as I come up with an idea, they are so tied together. However, when a good title doesn't seem to hit me soon, I start going through the story and thinking about it more consciously. To me a good title is something that sparks the reader's interest by making them ask questions by both containing and hiding the core ideas of the work, revealing just enough to get someone engaged to find out more, and ultimately the title should make full sense only after reading the story. So that's what I look for. But sometimes I do just go for the easiest title too. Like, if the whole story is about an exceptional character, I might just go with their name, especially if it's a pretty and unusual one. But I think my favourite kind of title is something that sounds vague but you get a hunch that its meaning is going to turn specific if you read the story.

All my long KnB fic titles came to me before I started writing, I think. With some oneshots that had a prompt, I think I only came up with one after it was finished. I think usually the best titles are the ones that come naturally though.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Hmm, it's hard to choose between The Hidden Things and Anything Can Happen. My brain really expanded with both of them in a unique way.

The Hidden Things is a sequel to my first long KnB fic (The Other Things) and it's about second to third year KagaKuro's adventures. And it's SO angsty. Basically, it's a tragedy, though not in the most literal way (no major character death). But oh god it was deep angst. That is, I felt it really intensely and wanted to get everything I possibly could out of it. Really made me go to places with these characters. To me it's a natural progression of the storyline to this point from canon, because I felt like a lot of the characters' past was anything but resolved. Things will be good again in the next part of my fic series, but this one is not happy. And I absolutely loved going there. I was kind of shy about going exactly where I wanted to go with my fics before, I had such high restrictions in my brain somehow, for what I was allowed to do with characters that weren't mine, but here I finally started owning what I was writing. It felt absolutely insanely good.

Anything Can Happen is actually between The Other Things and The Hidden Things, and it's a lucid dream that Kagami is having because in The Other Things, first Aomine accused Kuroko that he's only so optimistic because he "hasn't seen the second half of Into The Woods" (the musical, where the second act shows fairytales after the happy ever after), basically he's saying that Kuroko lacks life experience. Which isn't totally fair (not in my version at least) so later Kuroko tells Aomine that he has seen the second half, and it sounds to him more like Aomine left the audience before the end, then quoting him the song "No One is Alone". And that led to Kuroko musing more about Cinderella's part in the musical because it was relevant to a dilemma he was starting to become increasingly aware of, and then shared some of it with Kagami, who isn't very good at abstract thinking, and when some unforeseen things culminated at the end of The Other Things, that led me to write a dream fic where Kagami could explore the fairytale ideas in a more concrete form. So I rewrote Into The Woods with KnB characters. And that was the first time I gave up on my stubborn notion that I was writing realistic slice of life with my fics. And it should be no surprise that it unleashed my creativity, I'm a fantasy author after all, and KnB is a fantasy story with a high school disguise. (I have no clue why I wanted to make it more realistic in the first place but in retrospect the slow change reads kinda nicely...) The whole story of my fic from there on expanded in my mind, while I was writing that dream fic. Also it was just SO MUCH FUN to play with language, the musical's lyrics, everything. When I wrote it, I couldn't remember when I'd had that much fun last time. But anyway, it was a wild turning point, without which the rest of the series would not exist.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

In my current project, The Luminous Things, Kuroko and Kagami are each going to have a BIG revelation that's going to change the rest of their lives basically, and I've been waiting and waiting and waiting to get to that point but somehow I keep picking up shiny objects along the way (like writing 50 000 words about Takao's birthday party in just one chapter because I was like, hey, everyone should have a POV here) and so the goal posts just keep moving. 😂😂

73. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Well, I'm not sure if it literally makes it stand out, because for it to stand out, you have to notice those things first, but I think my work is more filled with hidden meanings and metaphors and references, intra- and intertextual puzzles than average, because I'm absolutely nuts about that kind of thing. There's probably more overt intertextuality than average too, but I'm still hoping that someone will see the extent of the web and talk to me about it, haha. Otherwise it's just in my perception, which is, well generally the most fun I have in life, but I do wish I could share it deeply with someone. Well, I guess most authors' dearest wish is that someone will just GET them.

[bee-dot-exe]

I watched Cellbo's Purgatory stream and knew I had to write about his interaction with Pac immediately but am finally getting around to it. I hope you are all as excited and enjoy it as much to read as I was to write. And thank you so much for helping translate @disfrutalakia you're an angel.

That's Just Wasteland, Baby

Angst. Blood. Fear. Murder. I'm so so so proud of this.

1,067 words

The ground where I stood was slick, as is expected, the land in my immediate vicinity was almost entirely made of ice, but it wasn't dangerously so, I could see the small bumps and ridges from natural formation or from being worn down for one reason or another, and felt it beneath my footing.

The sky looked almost like a pool of acid, not quite chartreuse, like the warning label of radiation nearby.

I straightened out the slightly crooked gas mask on my face in the brief moment where Baghera and I could breathe without being in the presence of another victim.

There had already been several, both of our weapons had crimson tears dripping down and onto their pointed teeth, still starved and begging to be buried into flesh and bone.

The smell of iron and decay hung heavy in the air as we both breathed, before something caught my eye, a speedboat with a small group inside, and the race continues.

"Oh Pac! Come here, sweetheart!"

I screamed into the stale air and across the water. They all got out and stepped onto shore seconds after I shouted that.

Baghera and I chased the footprints left behind by our former teammates and finally reached Gumi, who screamed as the chainsaw of my companion barred its ever bleeding teeth and ripped into her body.

"Cellbit! No no no. Please!"

I knew that voice, I knew that exclaim, I knew the owner of that pleading.

"Baghera, save that one for me, please."

Of course she did, but she still took him to the side, my ears catching snippets of their conversation as I had my own with another member of the group. Her voice was thick and soft like honey, but also tilted in a way that her lies and general presence were a bit easier to swallow.

"Pac! No no no. Don't run away. It's okay. I missed you. How are you?"

His physical form and voice shook as he begged for life, for mercy, for forgiveness in his native tongue.

"You don't want to talk? Oh but why? If we don't talk I'll just have to kill you instead."

"I don't want to talk. Don't kill me. Please."

"No, don't run, it's okay. Maybe you can bring me another leader and I won't kill your team, hm? What do you think? Which team leader would you like to see die tonight?"

I could practically hear the metaphorical wheel in Pac's mind spinning and searching for an answer.

"Etoiles."

"Oh Etoiles has to die? You are asking me to kill one of my blood? One of my family?"

He stuttered and pleaded some more before I looked in his direction and away from my conversation.

"Is that you Pac?"

The person I had been conversing with, JVNQ, tried to interfere.

"No, no."

"Hey Pac!"

"It is Pac, it is."

"Hey Pac!"

"It is him, it is. You can kill him, let's kill him."

"Queridinho, we're here, in purgatory."

"I have killed him once."

"I'm scared."

"I killed him once already in front of you."

"No."

"Are you up to die for him?"

"Do you want to for Bolas?"

JVNQ stepped in front of a still shaking Pac and made himself a barrier of sorts as I approached my former companion.

"Jotinha, please no. Guys, I'm the leader, I'm the leader. You can kill me."

I grabbed JV's wrist and pushed him away towards my companion with the chainsaw for a little chat and stood directly in front of Pac.

"Hey Pac. There is no time in purgatory. Hey Pac, jotinha, remember how you left me stuck on the island?"

"I didn't leave anyone stuck on the island. For God's sake, it was a Guaxinim thing. He's here too."

"Guaxinim is here?"

"He is. Please. I didn't do anything."

"Hm, I will try to find him later and talk to him then, I miss him."

Pac was trembling nearly out of his skin.

It seems he started off his little trip to this slice of hell wearing a suit. His shirt, which appeared to have started this journey crisp and cotton white but was now more of a beige as it had become a menagerie of grime and blood and overall existence, had the sleeves folded and rolled up to his elbows.

The deep blue jacket was tied around his waist by its arms.

The bits of his hair that were not plastered down by sweat or in sections crusted with blood stood in several directions.

"I'll give you one choice Pac. If you don’t want to die, kill JV in front of me."

"No!"

"Now. The only way for you to survive is if you kill JV."

"I don’t want to, please, I don’t want to."

I brought up the knife I had been using to help diminish the island of my former teammates, companions, family to Pac's face.

I teased and ran the tip of the blade across his cheekbone.

There was a scar about the size of your fingertip underneath his left eye, oh but it would look so much prettier reopened, what if I just the weapon slip?

I'll give it to him, Pac was doing a great job at trying to hide his reaction, but his eyes still glossed over with tears ever so slightly as beads of carmine bubbled to the surface.

"You prefer to die in his place?"

"No no no, I don’t want to, I don’t want to."

"I think the choice was already made for me then."

"No!"

Pac started to reach for me with that final exclamation, his still shaking hand with dirt and blood practically embedded in the lines of his knuckles and under his nails just making contact with my shoulder, when I cut off any conversation or train of thought he may have still debated putting out there with a jab and twist of the blade to his torso.

A small river of vermilion still ran from his cheekbone and collided with a new steadily growing trail at the corner of his pale lips.

His cloudy eyes still shined faintly with tears and dimmed considerably.

His already barely there hand that had been making contact slipped easily along with the rest of him and into a heap on the ground.

What a pity.

The game should continue until there is a winner though, no?

[odnewsin]

Shriram Life Insurance Ties Up with Muthoot Mercantile to Boost Distribution Network

Shriram Life Insurance Company Limited (SLIC) is proud to announce a strategic partnership with Muthoot Mercantile Ltd. (MML), a Kerala-based Non-Banking Financial Company (NBFC) renowned for its gold loan services. Through this collaboration, MML will distribute Shriram Life’s comprehensive insurance products across its extensive branch network, enhancing accessibility to life insurance…

[traeuthaeou]

GET IN BODY BAG IF YOU SAID LYING , L YING ? BLACK PEOPLE HONEST OR DISHONEST HORIZONTAL OR VERTICAL

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[thisisanewaccount]

looking for a 21+ roleplay partner. I'm looking for fandom less ocxoc mxm. I want to play a young single father. I don't have any ideas for a plot, but I'd like to do something a little more than slic-of-life. like maybe supernatural, with vampires and demons. Something that puts them in danger and they have to protect each other.

[hardynwa]

Nigerians have no business with poverty – Catholic Bishop

The Catholic Bishop of Ekiti Diocese, Most Rev. Felix Ajakaye, on Thursday declared that there was no justification for Nigerians to be poor, saying the country is blessed with enormous resources enough to make the citizens lives more abundantly. Ajakaye called on political leaders in Nigeria to eradicate poverty in the country, live by example and make citizens welfare central to their hearts and programs. Bishop Ajakaye, noted that governments both at states and Federal level, should put in place measures to ensure that Nigerians live a life of dignity in human persons. Ajakaye made the remarks at the graduation ceremony of vocational skills trainees and distribution of Start-Up Kits for 400 persons trained by Caritas Nigeria, in Ekiti State. The Non-profit organization established by the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria, with the theme: “Building Sustainable Livelihoods in Vibrant Community (B-SLiC) Project, was held at the Pope John Paul II,  Pastoral Centre,  in Ado-Ekiti, Ekiti State capital. Also, speaking Rev. Fr. Babangida Audu, the Deputy Executive Secretary, Caritas Nigeria, and Bishop Ajakaye, both urged Nigerians, the government and the citizens, to work together to ensure that poverty is eradicated, due to the abundant natural resources deposited in the country. “Nigeria has no reason to be poor, but sadly enough, we are still far away from good governance, bad roads, unemployment, and poverty in the land” The religious leaders noted that there is failure in the society, pointing to the fact that both government and citizens should be blamed in this regard. “If we want to eradicate poverty in Nigeria, we can do it, but our government and citizens must mean it, not about the government alone, let everybody be involved in the process. “Government should be able to provide an enabling environment, where people can be able to help themselves and create an environment where people can learn skills. “Citizens on their own should be willing to take up their responsibilities. Government cannot cater for all, but if you show your skills and develop interest, it will be better for society. The clerics commended the donors’ agency for the empowerment of the less privileged in the society in Ekiti State for the (B-SLiC) project. The Director of Humanitarian Service, Caritas Nigeria, Nkese Udongwo, said the idea is to train the vulnerable on life skills for people to generate income for themselves and the community. According to her, they were trained in tailoring, beads/bag making, shoe making, carpentry, phone repairs, aluminum, electrical, mechanic and catering works”.  They all went home with their certificates and start-up kits. The Chairman, Ado-Ekiti local government, Chief Bosun Osaloni, called on the beneficiaries to make good use of the “Start-Up Kits” presented to them, cautioning them not to sell them, but to use them to get out of poverty. Read the full article

[jeffdraws]

What’s something that you wish for?

(Also dandelions are one of my favorite things)

[bballinspiration]

Enjoy some MJ fadeaways on this Monday morning.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Melissa chuckles. "I will be sure to mention to Katrina your opinion of her family. That should be interesting to see at the wedding reception..."

Theodora laughed at Melissa's statement for a few seconds. Her laugh tapered off as she shifted her gaze to look at Dieter. She didn't need to say anything, the look on her face said everything she wanted. Behave, Dieter.

Melissa, now satisfied she has defended Katrina's family, goes quiet.

Alaric sits, listening politely, as though the conversation were about the weather or some other inane topic.

When Dieter finishes, Alaric simply nods, and says, "I will send you the contact details of Colonel Asena Liška, the head of SLIC - military intelligence. Coordinate with her." He pauses, and takes a deep breath, before speaking again.

"And, most importantly, Director. If this ends up needing to occur, it must be done with as little disruption and violence against the citizens of the realm in question - following the proposed New Ares Conventions - as possible. Not only does such restraint achieve the practical goals of engendering good will to the Star League, and making the new conventions attractive to potential Star League members... it is also quite simply the right thing to do. The death or displacement of civilians is antithetical to the Clan way of life - a genuine and wasteful tragedy, and something I have been raised by the Clans to abhor - and so it shall be for the new Star League. We are to protect the Inner Sphere, not lead them to ruin. I now trust you and Asena with that task."

In the moments of silence that followed, Dieter looked at the ilKhan's face, for signs that Alaric was simply playing a part - the dictator feigning concern for his people to appeal to the masses. Something that would tell him that Alaric was just the same ruthless Clan warrior so many - that Dieter - believed him to be.

Dieter, in that moment, could find nothing but sincerity.

The halls of The Court of the Star League were a strange place, Dieter reflected.

They were, on the one hand, much like the halls of an austere courthouse, off-white marble and soaring ceilings, vast windows placed high on the walls to flood the space with natural light and dramatic shadows.

On the other hand, however, were the details that made it feel more personal, warm and welcoming. The wood panels, all harvested from the local area. The warm, plush seats lining the hallway. The paintings on the walls, which were rumored to have been chosen by the First Lord personally.

As his boots click against the mosaic floor depicting scenes from the SLDF Exodus, he pats the sword at his belt, grateful for its presence. After all, he'd need it's reassurance for the meeting to come.

If he'd thought getting into the outer wings of the Court was a laborious process, he'd been wrong. To merely *enter* into the same wing of the building as the IlKhan, he'd had to undergo three security checkpoints, an interview, two X-ray scans, and a careful examination of all his credentials. All in all, it had taken more than an hour, but in due time, he was ushered back into the private wing of the First Lord, and told that Alaric Ward was expecting him.

In time, he came before the door to the sitting room he was told that Ward would meet him in, an elegant thing of dark wood, so dark as to almost black, engraved with patterns and carvings so fine as to be almost invisible against the dark finish.

For a moment, Dieter paused, his hand inches away from knocking on the door. For precious seconds he hesitated there, the churn of apprehension in his gut like a physical sickness in its intensity.

What would he say? What could he say? Face-to-face with his Father's murderer, with the man he now served, with the man who was perhaps the Inner Sphere's best hope for peace and prosperity-

Before he could let himself go into the maddening spiral that was sure to follow, he let his hand fall against the door, with the crisp report of knuckles on hard wood.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

[separatist-apologist]

A Fragile Little Flame

I know places we won't be found

Summary: Cassian has survived two wars and knows a thing or two about going up against a powerful adversary.

Nothing can prepare him for Nesta Archeron

Read more: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | AO3

Nesta never told Cassian what sent her dissolving into tears. He was reasonably certain it hadn’t been his cock or his touch, and so he’d merely scooped her up, dried her off, and put her into his bed. His mate was soft—no one understood that. All they saw was her icy exterior and assumed she was made of nothing else. 

She settled sometime in the night, soothed to sleep by his fingers caressing her long hair. Cassian couldn’t, though. All he could think of was her impending engagement and how badly he wanted to rescue her from that cruel, cold male. She’d asked him not to kill Tomas and Cassian was a male of his word.

To a point.

He was not giving Nesta to another male. Not in this life, not even if she hated him for it. He didn’t care about her sister’s marriage or if it enraged the town below. Not when the others kidnapped their mates so casually and certainly not so his own mate could live a short, brutal life filled with suffering.

She’d suffered enough. 

Cassian just needed a plan. It kept him up all night, hardly ready for Azriel and Nesta’s friends that would be descending later that day. He liked to help the females train, if only to watch Nesta drop into a multitude of squats. Back when she’d first started, it had been the only way Nesta would let him look at her body—encased in pants, no less—and occasionally let him touch her to correct her form. 

Now he could wake her with a kiss, if he liked. And Cassian liked that very much. Nesta blinked open those silvery blue eyes and Cassian stole another kiss, just because he could.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her.

Nesta nodded, swallowing hard. “I ah…Cassian?”

“Yes?” He rose from bed, still as naked as the night before, to dig out some pants and feed her. 

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” he interrupted quickly. He didn’t want to hear her apologize to him. Not then, not ever. “Az is bringing Gwyn and Emerie up today.”

“And Feyre? Have…have you heard anything about her?”

He shook his head. “I’ll speak to Rhysand. I’m sure he’s watching her.”

“Why doesn’t he just…” Nesta gestured around her. “Kidnap her?”

“Is that what you want? Our king to steal your sister and make her his bride?” He hadn’t meant to sound judgemental and yet it was clear that was how Nesta had taken his words. Her whole body sharpened, lips parting with anger.

“That’s what you did,” she snapped. “And Azriel. And Lucien and that terrible dragon prince, too. Why should she expect anything different?”

“Nes—”

“I want to know why you can drag me up here but Feyre—”

“Stop it!” Cassian whispered, his whole body on edge. He didn’t want to fight her. Not when he still had the taste of her burned in his mouth. “If you wish to go back, I’ll take you back.”

It was a lie. He was merely calling her bluff, certain Nesta was just frustrated that she would be forced into a terrible marriage because Rhysand was unwilling to risk the wrath of another of his human lords.

Nesta didn’t back down. “Yeah, Cassian? You’ll let another male bed me—”

“I’ll kill him,” Cassian whispered, crossing the room until there was only an inch of space between them. “I’ll kill him, and I’ll take a long time doing it. Is that what you want to hear, Nesta? That I have no intention of giving you up?”

She reached for his neck, surging forward on her tiptoes for a near violent kiss. Cassian snarled against her lips without meaning to. Instinct was riding him hard, was begging him to claim his mate. He needed to be inside her, to fuck her until she didn’t care if Tomas lived or died.

He pushed her back to the bed too roughly, hands skimming over her flesh as he tore at her nightgown. Nesta didn’t care, legs hooked around his waist so she could feel his erection pressed against her. He didn’t have the will not to notch himself against her slick entrance and certainly not to push himself an inch—just an inch—so he could feel if she was as tight as he remembered.

Nesta gasped, her back arching into his chest. Her nails, sharp enough to be talons, sliced down his arms until he scented the salty, coppery tang of blood in the air. He pushed again, daring another inch.

It was all Cassian got.

“Nesta?” Gwyn’s voice called distantly in the house and too late, Cassian knew Azriel must have realized what was happening. Had ordered his mate to call out to them, to announce their presence.

Nesta scrambled from beneath him, pulling herself away before he could sink into her wet, warm cunt. He didn’t move, falling face first into his pillow. She said nothing at all, either, though he heard her pause at the door to look at him. He didn’t dare look back—Cassian knew he’d push her against the wall and fuck her stupid if he did. His cock throbbed from the tease of her body, pulsating with unmet need.

Only when Nesta was gone did Cassian force himself upwards and into the bathroom. Azriel would understand what kept him and could start without him. Cassian needed to ask Azriel how he’d withstood Gwyn’s hesitations while sleeping in the same bed beside her each night because Cassian was going insane. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and gave himself a near unwilling stroke. It was wrong to touch himself when he could still feel the silken head of her gripping the head of him. Every inch of him rebelled. It wasn’t in their nature to deny mates this way or wait so long. Females were claimed and quickly lest another male thought to take her for themselves. Cassian had been waiting for months, well aware instinct did not drive Nesta at all. Humans had bred those urges out centuries ago. 

He dragged his hand over his cock again, pleasure pooling in his gut. He could get through the day, he rationalized. Just one day and then he’d have her at night. That thought drove his pumping hand, pulling him upwards towards release. Cassian came with a grunt, still stroking until he’d alleviated enough of his ache to force himself into pants. He suspected it would not be the first—or the last—time he jerked himself that day. 

He met Azriel on the training grounds. They hadn’t been there in ages, so long that Cassian suspected Azriel’s hesitance was to the memories of being a younger male working with those who’d long since died. Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie were going through their stretches, each of them in the tight leathers Azriel had gifted. 

“Only thing that’s missing is Rhys,” Azriel murmured, eyes cutting towards Cassian. “Any chance he’ll join?”

“Unlikely,” Cassian replied. “Not yet, anyway.”

Azriel nodded. “Maybe if the younger sister comes up.”

Cassian’s head snapped towards his friend. “How do you know about that?”

Azriel inclined his own towards the females. “They talk loudly. Nesta wanted to know if Feyre could stay with Emerie.”

“And?”

“Of course she can. Have you considered bringing Elain up. Just long enough to entice her into Windhaven?”

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look. Neither of them wanted the feral Lucien back in their city. “Maybe.”

“There’s another way,” Azriel murmured, so quiet Cassian might have thought it was the wind itself whispering to him. “How much does she know about accepting the bond between you?”

Cassian’s eyes snapped to Azriel’s face. “She’d kill me.”

A soft smirk graced his brother’s face. “Are you sure? Because she smells like—”

“Okay, alright,” Cassian grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Keep that to yourself.”

“Give her your scales,” Azriel murmured softly. “And kidnap the sister.”

“Are you insane?” Cassian whispered, yanking Azriel by the arm to pull him further from the ring. “Rhysand—”

“Would thank us,” Azriel interrupted, eyes flashing. “If it meant getting her out of that wretched, filthy city. 

“Nesta would not.”

Azriel only shrugged. “She’d forgive you eventually.”

Cassian wasn’t given a chance to respond. The girls began cajoling them to come back, demanding to know what they were whispering about. Guilt slid through Cassian’s stomach as he faced down Nesta. Lovely, nervous Nesta.

She might forgive him—but Cassian didn’t think he ever would.

NESTA:

“So,” Gwyn began, hands jammed in her pockets. “Cassian is looking feral.”

“Is he?” Nesta replied, her boots crunching through snow. She was still trapped up in the mountainside palace, though it felt less lonely with Gwyn and Emerie. The three, finished with their lessons, meandered the snowy courtyard rather than retreat back to the males. Azriel and Cassian offered the illusion of privacy indoors, and actually privacy outdoors.

Nesta needed it. After their near miss that morning, the cold kept her from crawling into his lap and finishing what they’d started. And then what? Then Cassian would know exactly how she felt and what she wanted and he’d hold all the power. No, Nesta needed the upper hand somehow. If she was going to do it, Cassian had to understand it was meaningless to her. That it changed nothing. 

No matter how much of a lie that was. 

Emerie pulled Nesta from her thoughts, knocking shoulders. “Oh, come on. The general lost to Azriel.”

“So what?” Nesta retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. But she knew the problem with that. Why her friends found it strange. Cassian was the general. Of them all, there was no one better with a sword, at casual combat. Cassian ought to have bested Azriel with one hand tied behind his back, a blindfold against his eyes.

Nesta knew exactly what was on Cassian’s mind. She could still feel the phantom touch of his cock pushing into her body. Nesta had to resist the urge to clench her legs, to wiggle even as she walked in an effort to alleviate the ache. 

“Right,” Gwyn laughed. “You’re such a bad liar, Nes.”“What have I lied about?”Gwyn rounded on Nesta so quickly that Nesta nearly went tumbling ass-first in the snow. “If I had to guess? Everything.” She pitched her voice an octave higher. “No, Cassian is SOooOOOOOoo awful and I don’t like him at all. Someone, please take me back to the human men—”

“Okay, alright,” Nesta grumbled, annoyed with Emerie’s loud, bright laughter. “I’m glad this is funny to you.”

“It’s not funny,” Gwyn rushed to assure her. “It’s pathetic.”

“What Gwyn means is,” Emerie interrupted, catching Nesta’s anger and heading it off before there was a potential fight, “is we can tell you like Cassian. He likes you. Is that so awful?”

Nesta only shrugged. That was as truthful as she was willing to be for the time being. Was liking Cassian so awful? No…until she had to leave him. Gwyn and Emerie didn’t understand, would never understand the rules Nesta was bound to. Cassian wss merely a distraction until real life caught up to her. 

There was no way out of Tomas without wrecking Feyre’s marriage. A terrible, miserable marriage Nesta was certain Feyre would regret one day. Likely saddled with too many children and a husband who only noticed her when it was time to breed another into her. And Nesta would lose herself, too. Her resentment would swallow her, would finally hollow her out. 

Cassian was waiting in a high-backed, leather chair in the den. He hadn’t wished anyone goodbye, which hadn’t bothered Azriel in the slightest. Nesta went looking until she found him, drinking in his pensive stair. Face tilted towards a frosted window, Cassian’s concern was etched over his handsome face.

She padded towards him nervously, secretly delighted when his hand shot out, snagging her into his lap. Cassian buried her face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “There you are,” he whispered, his hold on her tightening. 

Nesta had to remind herself it was okay to relax. Every inch of her went rigid, so unused to the care he so casually offered. Cassian was tactile, was loose with his affection. No one had ever provided Nesta with even a fraction of his attention and she didn’t know how to accept it. 

She kept waiting for a shoe to drop, to prove he was only acting that way to get something from her. 

Cassian, as if he heard her thoughts, nuzzled his nose behind her ear. “You smell like snow,” he told her before pressing a kiss against her skin. Nesta’s spine locked, keeping her rigid even as his mouth slid lower and lower.

“Cassian, wait,” she whispered, pulling back without pushing off his lap. “What are we doing?”

“Falling in love,” he replied, pulling her chin towards him with two of his fingers. 

Nesta balked, opening her mouth to protest. To hurt him. Cassian was quicker, his lips sliding against her own. She was silenced by the kiss. 

Drowning in the truth of his words. 

Calloused fingers rubbed against the softness of her cheek, creating sweet friction where there normally was none. Nesta relaxed without thinking, twisting to tangle her own hands in the wavy strands of his dark hair. It was enough to convince Cassian to part his lips and deepen the kiss between them.

Familiar urgency overtook Nesta. 

Do this now before you can’t. 

The whispering magic between them snapped, as if Cassian had heard the new color to her thoughts. He pulled back, his hazel eyes narrowed. Nesta didn’t care, too busy mapping the flecks of green against the brown, like stars in the sky. He was so beautiful.

He was hers. 

Connected by some cord only he could feel, woven by fate itself. 

“Where did you go?” he asked, thumbs stroking her cheek. “I lost you for a moment.”

“I’m not yours, Cassian,” Nesta said, forcing the words from her mouth. Even to her trained ears, the words were a lie. Cassian frowned, some brightness flashing over his features.

“You are mine,” he repeated, teeth to her throat. “I’ll prove it.”

Cassian hauled her upwards, strong arms wrapped around her body. She could have forced him to put her down. They both knew he was a slave to her will and always had been. Nesta didn’t want him to let her go. A better person would have begged him to keep her. 

Cassian would have. 

Might still, like he guessed what she wanted, what she couldn’t say. 

He kicked open the door to his bedroom, slamming it shut before placing her against his bed. Cassian didn’t join her like she’d expected, though. Panting roughly, he dragged one of his rough hands through his hair until it was just as wild as he was.

“For five hundred years, I did everything he asked me to,” Cassian began, turning his back to her. He was facing the window again, staring into nothing. “Without complaint, without resentment. I wrecked my very soul keeping it all going. I never asked him for anything.”

He turned then, his eyes suspiciously bright. 

“If I asked him to let me have you, he’d tell me no.”

“That’s not his decision,” Nesta snapped without an ounce of ire. Cassian took a measured step towards her. 

“It is,” he disagreed, “because I don’t give a fuck about your sister's marriage.”

Nesta froze. They were on dangerous ground. It ought to have disturbed her.

His words thrilled her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” Cassian dared, taking another too dangerous step towards her. “I don’t give a fuck about your sister's happiness. About her life with that human or my brother or at all.”Nestas hands shook in her lap. “Cassian,” she warned.

“No one puts us first, Nes. We’re soldiers, we do as we’re told. We sacrifice for some unknown future we don’t get ourselves. And I’m tired of it. I want you.”“Cassian,” she tried again, her voice more of a plea. Don’t do this.

She had no defenses for his unchecked vulnerability. For his utter, unguarded honesty. 

He was almost over her, then. Thighs touching the edge of the mattress, his eyes burning with heat. “Aren’t you tired of putting your own feelings last?” he whispered.  

“Cassian, I can’t…” She tried. She tried so hard to finish her sentence. That she had to. That this was what she owed her sister after the failure with their childhood. She could want Cassian until the stars winked out, but that didn’t mean he was for her. No part of him belonged to her and no part of him ever would.

“Say yes, Nes,” Cassian breathed, his breath sweet against her face. 

It was a fantasy.

“Yes,” she replied. She’d break the news to him in the morning. In four mornings. The day of the wedding—she didn’t care. 

“Yes.”

CASSIAN:

She wasn’t agreeing to forever and he knew it. Was a bastard because he fully intended to use those words against her in the morning. Right then, though, Cassian reached for her and she reached for him. The collision was messy—desperate. Her teeth cut his bottom lip, tongue sweeping over the hurt and swallowing the copper salt. Her ferocity made him growl, made him more animal than anything.

He tore at her clothes, slicing through the laces until she was stripped to nothing. Only miles and miles of soft, fair skin and the supple flesh he couldn’t stop dreaming about. She wanted him just as badly, was pushing at his own clothes until Cassian had to stop kissing her to fumble with the straps. 

He managed though he’d never know how. He barely knew himself until Nesta’s hand curled around the base of his cock and dragged him back to her, like she was pulling on a leash. Nesta wasted no time wrapping her legs around him, arms twined over his neck so he was lined against her perfectly. Just like that morning, he could feel the heat pouring from between her parted thighs, could feel the silken wet of her cunt teasing the head of his cock.

He had no control. Kissing like his life was dependent on it, Cassian groped for anything that might steady him. Her breasts weren’t helping, though he couldn’t pretend they didn’t distract him just enough to keep him from plunging straight into her. She made him mindless—desperate. 

“Nes,” he moaned, tugging at the rosy peaks. She bit into his shoulder, the pain arching his back in spite of himself. Nesta ran her fingers over his scales, up and down, up and down. 

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, her hips grinding against his own. It was as if she were trying to slip him in without him realizing it. Like it wasn’t taking every ounce of willpower he possessed from doing just that.

“What happened to practice?” he moaned, his mouth colliding with her own again. 

Bastard. You’re a bastard. 

She would have stopped if she’d known how sharp his fangs were in his mouth. That in the morning, Nesta would be irrevocably branded by his scales, just like her sister. Both sisters, he reminded himself, if only to absolve the prick of guilt he felt. Rhys might let Nesta sacrifice herself in the short term, but Cassian knew he had some long-term strategy for Feyre. 

Knew Lucien would have wrecked the world for Elain.

And Cassian was done pretending he ought to step aside. That she was the throwaway, the sacrifice for everyone else. Damn that fucking human and damn her sisters, too. Cassian’s army obeyed him.

Not Rhys. 

Not anymore. 

Nesta, unaware of his dangerous, seditious line of thinking, had snaked between their writing bodies to grip his cock. She pumped, her hold punishingly tight. Just the way he liked. Cassian was tempted to roll onto his back so she could scratch his belly, too. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, bucking into the touch. “Taste, I need–”

“You need to fill me,” she interrupted, yanking brutally. “Now.”

He was losing his mind. “Nes,” he pleaded, as if he wasn’t rubbing the weeping head of his cock through her cunt. She lifted her hips upwards as an offering. He knew she was using him—getting her first time over with, letting it be with someone who wouldn’t hurt her. A better male would have stopped.

Cassian was still a bastard. Notching himself against her, he lowered his head to lick at the side of her throat. He didn’t know the whole mechanics, had lost the book on such things to Elain. She’d told him once how Lucien had managed it, cheeks burning the entire time. Azriel had refused to say if it had been the same for him. Cock and fangs at the same time, then. Whether that was true, or just instinct that had prompted Lucien to want to do both, his method was now Cassians.

He pushed himself an inch into Nesta, listening to nothing but the frantic thrum of her heart and ragged breathing.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he ordered, the thought intolerable. 

“Keep going,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut. Cassian scraped his fangs over the side of her neck, desperate to taste and feel all of her. His blood pumped through his veins, singing a siren song. 

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

How had he resisted for so long? Cassian pushed again, driving himself in, and in, and in. 

Nesta’s nails dug into his skin, slicing viciously until Cassian all but whimpered. He was nearly there, holding off the last little bit while she adjusted around him. Nesta was bruisingly tight, a silken fist gripping the bare skin of his cock until Cassian was feral with his want. He’d been prepared to give her to another male. Maybe he would have if she’d never expressed any interest. He could have pretended she wasn’t his mate and she meant nothing to him. Up until that moment, Cassian was still half trying to talk himself out of taking her for himself. 

It was a line in the sand. Nesta, he knew, would forgive him. Nesta would be furious in the morning, but calm when she realized she was free. Tha she could do whatever she liked, unburdened by whatever clock ticked loudly in her head. An immortality of time stretched before her. 

Rhys wouldn’t. With the theft of that western princess, and now human lords losing wives, there would be repercussions. Cassian closed his eyes to the thought. Rhys had been given five centuries of peace—might have been given five more had Lucien not fallen in love with human Elain. This was the price of doing nothing. Of letting the humans retain any power at all.

Rhys would pay it.

Not Nesta. 

Cassian thrust that last little bit into her cunt and buried his fangs in her neck. Nesta tightened around him, gasping and arching all at once. If it was pleasure or pain that made her writhe, he didn’t know. Blood filled his mouth while venom poured into her body, connecting them irrevocably. 

“Cassian,” she whimpered, pressing a hand to his chest. He pumped his hips, withdrawing his fangs so he could look down at her. If the little notches from his fangs bruised in her skin phased her, Nesta didn’t say. She held his biceps, whining when he dragged himself back out of her. 

“That’s it,” he praised, licking the hurt until those little red dots were nothing but a faded memory. 

Moving slow was for them both. Cassian was already too close and just as untested as Nesta. If he sped up, he’d come and she wouldn’t. And Cassian desperately needed to feel her fall apart around his cock. He needed to know what it felt like to have her entirely. Her body, her soul, every inch of Nesta, just like she had every inch of him.

And had ever since she’d slammed that iron poker into his face. Cassian was in love with her, maybe from that moment on the floor. Dizzy and half sick, irritated with Elain and her unwillingness to make his life easier, and then all at once, Cassian was gazing into the unsmiling face of an angel. 

“Nesta,” he breathed, the word really a prayer. “Nesta, sweetheart.”

She dragged her nails down the backs of his arms. Each new pump into that wet cunt was ecstasy, was heaven. Cassian pressed the softest kiss against her mouth while wedging his hand between their combined bodies. Searching for that little nub of flesh just as soaked as the rest of her. 

Rubbing tight circles against her flesh provoked an immediate reaction. She gasped, clenching around him. Cassian hadn’t thought it was possible to have any more of her, but Nesta planted her feet on the bed, drawing her knees upward until he was thrusting deeper, was buried to the hilt, and then some. 

“You’re mine, Nesta,” he told her. He needed her to know. Needed her to hear him say it–and know that he meant it. As her hips met his own, matching thrust for thrust, Nesta finally opened those silvery blue eyes. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Mine,” Nesta repeated, restarting his heart with her breathless claim. “You’re mine, Cassian.”

Release gathered along his spine, stuttering his once careful control. Cassian was wild, was desperate, was nothing at all except hers. 

“More, Cassian,” she moaned, arching her back when his thrusts back rough and uncontrolled. He’d been so afraid of hurting her, had been taking things slow in order to show her that he cared. Nesta’s hands slid down his back to grip his ass, nails digging into tender flesh to spur him onward. Cassian lost the last final tether on his sanity, driving mindlessly into her until he felt her break apart. Nesta screamed, shaking the mountains around them with the force of her pleasure. Cassian rolled his neck, eyes sliding into his head. He couldn’t stop himself from coming, his orgasm a blasting, a breaking. He felt reborn, reforged into something wholly hers. 

And when Nesta, still tight around him, the aftershocks of her release still pulsating, said, “Again,” Cassian felt honor bound to obey her.

To do whatever she said.

To replace every ounce of loyalty he’d ever felt to his king and lay it all at her feet.

NESTA:

Nesta woke in the night wrapped up in Cassian’s arms. His face pressed into her hair, his breathing steady. Dawn had to be near, though the room was still bathed in black. They’d been at each other for hours, until there was nothing left in her body at all. She’d taken everything she could get from him with talons and teeth, offering him everything in return. Nesta intended to think of that night until she died. She could pretend Tomas was Cassian. She could, if nothing else, go somewhere safe that was Cassian, even if Tomas occupied her body. 

Nesta swallowed, extracting herself from his grasp. She needed to use the bathroom and then, maybe needed to demand he take her to the village so she could throw herself at Feyre’s feet and beg. Her pride balked at the thought. She couldn’t beg. Not even for herself. 

Especially not for herself. Feyre wanted to ruin her life, well…Nesta was happy to allow it back when they were all human and it seemed like the lord genuinely loved her. Better Feyre than herself, she’d rationalized. 

Nesta swanned into the bathroom, not bothering with a light. A glint from the mirror drew her back, halting her in her tracks. She blinked, trying to make sense of the sight laid before her. Her skin, just as it always had been, save for the ribboning red now draped around her neck. 

Scales.

The same as the gold her sister wore.

The same wrapped around Gwyn.

Nesta, gripped the edge of the sink, fumbling for a light. Nesta’s stomach splattered wetly at her feet. She’d forgotten, in the bliss of being with him, that Cassian had bitten her. She’d been momentarily paralyzed, so confused by the conflicting sensations she hadn’t truly registered it. Nesta touched, expecting cool, dry scales.

Her skin, only marked.

Branded.

“Cassian,” she gasped, unsure if she hated him or she loved him. There was no hiding what he’d done. No covering it up, no way she could complete her engagement now. Everyone would know what she was and who she belonged to on sight.

Palpable relief cascaded through her, mixing with her dread. Feyre would be ruined. 

“Cassian!”

He came thundering in a moment later, eyes wild with fear. “What is it? What’s…” he trailed off, eyes finding the red around her neck. Nesta was going to pummel him. Far from looking shamed for apologetic, Cassian’s golden brown skin warmed with pink. His lips parted with a visible wow, his eyes so disturbingly awed that she couldn’t resist smacking him in his bare stomach. She didn’t think he even registered it.

“You look—”

“I look all wrong, Cassian!” she interrupted impatiently. “Everyone is going to know!”

Still no apology. Only a defensive crossing of his arms. “So?”

Nesta was going to murder him. “So?” she whispered, noting how he took a careful step backward. “I told you—”

“That I was yours,” he interrupted, his temper getting the better of him. “Mine. I am yours, and you are mine.”

“I didn’t mean it!” Nesta shrieked, the lie oily and foul on her tongue. She’d never meant anything more. 

Cassian’s devastation was plain. For a moment there was nothing but an ocean of silence between them. Her anger and his despair made building a bridge impossible. Nesta didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to express that she was knee-wobbingly grateful he’d done something to try and protect her, and was furious with herself that she’d even needed it in the first place. 

Cassian blinked away what Nesta suspected might be gathering tears. Setting his mouth in a hard line and ignoring that the pair of them were both facing off in the dark utterly naked, she braced herself for his anger.

His hurt. 

“I’m not sorry.”

The words lingered between them, ringing in the air.

“As long as you get what you want, right?” she whispered, well aware it was an unfair accusation to level against him. 

“What I want?” he whispered, running a hand through his wild hair.

“Yeah, Cassian. What you want. I told you–”

“Undo it, then,” he said as if he couldn’t stand to hear her say it. Every inch of him looked defeated. Deflated. Like a man who had tried over and over, battering himself against a rock that would not break. 

She was doing that to him and for what? So Tomas could break her? So she could spend the rest of her life missing him? Wishing she was with him? 

“I’ll go to Rhys, I’ll—” a muscle worked furiously in his jaw. He couldn’t make himself say it. This was supposed to be a good thing between them and she had the sense she was ruining it. Nesta wrapped her arms around her trembling body to keep herself from falling to the floor. She opened her mouth, intending very much to say good, that’s what I want. 

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered instead. 

Cassian crossed the unbridgeable ocean like it was nothing. As if he had no pride left to wound, no shame at all. He held her against his warm, strong body, face buried in hair.

“What about you, Nes? Can’t I take care of you like you took care of them?”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” Nesta said, lips against his skin. She was a liar and they both knew it. She didn’t want to need that. No one had ever offered, and Nesta had spent her whole life lying to herself that she didn’t need to be, anyway. Elain was fragile, Feyre was impulsive. They needed someone to keep watch, to manage the estate, to look after their best interests, even when they disagreed.

And neither of them had ever looked back and wondered if she needed the same. 

Cassian’s hand stroked up and done her spine. “Feyre–”

“If he loves her, who gives a fuck?” Cassian whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I’d take you in any scenario, under any conditions.”

She was going to start sobbing. Nesta pressed closer, arms tucked against his chest. “And Rhys?”

Cassian’s whole body went stiff. “Fuck him, too.”

“So what, Cassian? You…you damn everyone? For me?” Her tone very much implied the rational conclusion—she was not worth so much effort. Cassian would agree just as any sane person would. Would come to his senses, would realize the futility of having her. Red ribbon of scales or not.

Before he could say so, Nesta offered him an out. “We could still see each other. In secret, when we could It doesn’t…it wouldn’t have to be—”

“I don’t care about Rhysand or his policies. His peace, his realm, his rule. And I don’t care about your sisters or their mates. I don’t care if Elain is happy and I certainly don’t care if Feyre is allowed to marry the worst human male your kind has to offer just to spite Rhys.”

Her heart thudded painfully.

“What do you care about, Cassian?”

He lifted a finger beneath her chin, tilting her face so she had to face him. Hazel eyes burned not with lust or need, but with the sort of unwavering conviction she’d wanted to see her entire life.

Love.

“You,” he said with no hesitation. No fear, no uncertainty. “My mate. This city, this army is mine. And I am yours.”

Nesta shivered.

“Say yes, Nes. Be selfish. Take something for yourself without all this guilt. Let me worry about everything else.”

“And if it's war?” she demanded. Where was his limit? Where was wanting her too much?

Cassian’s grin was savage in its delight. “I’m owed five centuries of vengeance, Nesta.” 

Nesta didn’t dare let herself wonder if she was taking this too far. If she ought to step back, if only to prevent people from being harmed. 

“And me?”

“I want you,” Cassian clarified softly. “Do you think if Rhys or Lucien or Azriel were offered the same choice, they wouldn’t make it in a heartbeat?”

“I…” her voice trailed off.

“If you don’t want me, that's one thing. But if you do…I’m yours, Nesta. I always have been, and I always will be. Leaving me won’t change that.”

“Do you swear it?”

“On my life.”

CASSIAN:

Cassian left Nesta with Gwyn and Azriel, ignoring the questioning look his brother gave him. He knew what Azriel was wondering—Nesta would fill them in. She’d tell them what a bastard he was, how he’d forced his scales on her. Wrecked all her plans. Azriel could huff and chastise, but he didn’t know what Cassian did, which was how good Nesta’s cunt tasted.

Cassian would have done it again.

Not that day, thought. With Nesta safe in Windhaven, Cassian made his way to Velaris. He wanted to be equivocally clear that the support of his men came with strings. That his continued support came with strings. Rhys wanted Cassian to help track that missing princess, who was likely draped in scales of her own, with pregnancy well on the way. Cassian didn’t pity her at all, having met the terrible male she’d been engaged to. 

Cassian would do as he was asked so long as Nesta was not made to come back to Velaris. Feyre was on her own. Cassian would not line up his soldiers to die if he wasn’t given the assurance that Nesta was safe. 

And that the male who wanted her would have to back down or face Cassian’s unimaginable wrath. He was already too tempted to seek him out, to drag him up to Windhaven and let Nesta dispatch him herself. Every step towards the sprawling palace was an aching protest, forcing instinct to yield and obey.

Rhys was waiting stone faced in the doorway. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he said without a hint of pleasure.

“You should stay out of her head,” Cassian snapped. He knew damn well Rhys wasn’t in his. He’d need to warn Nesta, teach her how to detect that sort of trickery. Elain had fallen prey to it, too. “Have you tried Feyre’s mind?”

Rhys barred his teeth. “You’re a bastard.”

Cassian only shrugged, unable to resist offering a smug, “A bastard with a wife.”

Rhys merely waved him off, gesturing for Cassian to follow him toward the study. Cassian’s muddied boots left little imprints on the marble moonstone, scuffing up Rhys’s nice life just a little.

He couldn’t pretend it didn’t give him some small measure of satisfaction.

Rhys collapsed into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Just another fucking lord who will side himself with Tamlin.”

“I can’t hand her over,” Cassian said, not bothering to sit. He was Rhys’s general and, maybe, the only person who had been unwavering in his loyalty, who believed he was alive. That he’d return. 

Cassian had laid his army back at Rhys’s feet. He was owed.

Rhys worked his jaw, but nodded his head all the same. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He likely would have sided with them if push came to shove. The lords of the city have whipped everyone into a frenzy. They think females are being stolen against their will and forced to breed.”

“Didn’t they hand one of their own over for that exact purpose a few months ago?” 

Rhys rubbed his eyes. “Yes. It’s fine when they brutalize their own females, but not fine if their females grow tired of their cruelty and come looking for something else. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else.”

“How many human females have chosen one of us over…” Cassian had seen precious few in Windhaven, though that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Rhys scoffed. “Almost none. Elain is in the valley and Arina is fuck knows where. You have Nesta and Azriel that priestess…the missing lords daughter Morrigan is, I assume, in Windhaven as well. All these visible females, with powerful fathers, give the impression there is an epidemic. And now with Nesta, well…”

Cassian was too defensive. Waiting for Rhys to turn his eyes fully to Cassian and demand he give Nesta back. Rhys eyed him with a shrewdness that made Cassian’s spine cold.

“I can trust you, right?”

Cassian offered him a terse nod. 

“I need you to find out what happened with that princess. Don’t bring her back…just…I need to know if she’s safe. Alive,” he added.

“Az can do it,” Cassian murmured. He’d always been better at hiding, at spying. Cassian had no patience for it. 

Rhys nodded.

“I want to put guards in the city. A show of strength. They’re thinking of usurping me.”

“Fine.” Cassian was a soldier. Soldiers obeyed orders…so long as their wives slept safe, far from danger. 

Rhys offered Cassian one more long, careful look. “We’ve known each other a long time,” Rhys began, clearly hedging. Cassian gripped the back of the leather chair he usually occupied in Rhys’s office. The smell of wood and ink-covered parchment burned in his nose. 

“You’re staying in the palace in the mountains, are you not?”

“The House of Wind,” Cassian confirmed solemnly. 

“Still take wings or ten thousand steps to get in or out?” Rhys asked conversationally, drumming his fingers on his desk. 

Cassian hesitated.

“Yes.”

“No way down?”

“Not unless someone cares to brave ten thousand ice coated steps,” Cassian agreed. 

“Good. I want it back.”

“For what purpose?” Cassian demanded, “do you intend to rule us again?”

“Eventually,” Rhys hedged carefully. Cassian was going to bash his face in if he continued to be so evasive. Cassian raised his brows, silently ordering Rhys to explain himself.

“Feyre and I have a…bargain between us. I intend to call it in, just not the way she imagined.”

“By locking her in the House of Wind?” Cassian gaped, as if he hadn’t done the exact same thing. As if it wasn’t working spectacularly for him. 

“Yes,” Rhys agreed without an ounce of remorse. “I want Nesta to stay out of it. This is between Feyre and I.”

“Nesta will have your balls if she finds out,” Cassian declared, though he silently vowed he wouldn’t say a word about it. Not unless Nesta asked, at least. And he wouldn’t interfere…so long as

Nesta, again, didn’t ask him to. He had the feeling Nesta would climb those stairs herself when she found out Feyre was contained atop them.

For Cassian, he merely felt relief. Every hesitation Nesta had around their mating bond revolved around her sisters. He’d take Nesta to see Elain. Let her know Feyre was safe and far away from the male who meant to harm her.

“I want the human lord my mate was engaged to,” Cassian said quickly before Rhys dismissed him wholly. “His assets, too.”

Rhys leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his jaw. “Oh? For what purpose?”

“I like the taste of blood in my mouth,” Cassian replied casually. “He scares her.”

“And his assets?”

“She likes fine things. Why shouldn’t she have his gold?”

Rhys held his gaze before nodding. “Fine. One human lord is your price for all these years?”

“My price is peace,” Cassian disagreed. “A quiet life with my mate. I’m tired of war, Rhys.”

“I imagine we’ll have to kill more than one human lord to achieve that.”

“Kill them all. Give their titles to Azriel.”

That made Rhys laughed. “Yes, I’m sure he would enjoy that.”

“Peace will bloody. It would be nice to have a friend with me…I feel your resentment, Cassian.”

Cassian couldn’t deny it. Wouldn’t deny it. “Five hundred years is a long time to say nothing.”

Rhys nodded. “I hope to explain one day. For now, though…Nesta remains and you will continue to offer support?”

“I won’t abandon you.”

Like you did me, was the unspoken words hanging between them. It would take more than the promise of one messy, bloody death to fix what was broken between them.

Still. Cassian had Nesta. He’d have a family. What did Rhys have, other than a crumbling kingdom and his regrets? 

Cassian inclined his head, a smile dancing over his lips. “Tell me when,” he murmured, turning his back to his king.

And walked straight back to his mate.