#spelling apologies its the middle of the night and i had to get this out before i forgot

[mischief-and-the-big-bad-wolf]

Stiles woke up to Derek lazily sucking kisses to the back of his neck. He hummed and scooted backwards, closer to Derek.

"Good morning, Der, happy birthday," he murmured, reaching a hand back to pat Derek’s side.

"Thank you, love," Derek whispered, tucking his face into Stiles' neck and nuzzling his nose.

Stiles started pulling away, giggling at Derek’s annoyed grumbles, and said, "I wanna give you your present, babe."

"Later," Derek frowned, pulling on Stiles' hand when he got to his feet beside the bed.

"No, now. Wanna be just us when I give it to you," Stiles whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Derek's lips.

Derek quirked an eyebrow at Stiles who immediately blushed and flailed, slapping the back of his hand against Derek’s chest. "Not like that, pervert."

Derek chuckled and flopped on his belly and Stiles took that as his queue to go get the present. He ran to the attic of the rebuilt Hale house and pulled out the huge box he had hidden there.

Huffing, he carried it downstairs. He was so nervous that his heartbeat had to be deafeing to Derek. He dropped the box beside Derek woth a groan, tentatively taking a seat next to it as Derek sat himself up.

"May I?" Derek asked, gesturing at the box. Stiles nodded, chewing his lips anxiously, and watched as Derek carefully pulled the top off.

The first thing he pulled out was a ragged looking knitted blanket. With a strangled gasp, Derek brought it to his face and buried his nose in the fabric, greedily inhaling the scent.

"What - how?" Derek whimpered, red eyes peeking from behind the blanket.

"I had a witch cast a spell on it so that the smell would never fade," Stiles replied.

Derek nodded and composed himself a little, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders before digging back into the box.

Next, he took out a vintage looking watch, the edges of the leather strap looking a bit burnt. He immediately put it on his wrist, offering his hand to Stiles to secure it wordlessly.

He then removed a small wooden rattle, hand carved designs running down the hand. At this point, his eyes had filled up with tears.

He took a few calming breaths before pulling out a leather bound book. He looked questioningly at Stiles who whispered, "Open it."

Derek slowly opened the book as if afraid to find its contents. As soon as his eyes fell on the first page, the tears fell free, rapidly dripping down his face. He hastily turned from page to page, hand reverently grazing over all of them. Finally, anguished, heaving sobs burst out of Derek’s chest as he took in the pictures. A young Talia, holding baby Derek in her arms. Laura pushing toddler Derek on the swing. His grandma and grandpa in the middle of a slow dance. His parents kissing on their wedding day. All of the Hales with their extended families together on Christmas, dressed in matching pyjamas on the insistence of Derek’s father.

Stiles couldn't keep in his own tears at the sight of Derek and he silently cried. Derek carefully put the book aside after a while and pulled Stiles into his lap, hiding his face in Stiles' neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Derek murmured against his skin, pressing kisses every so often.

"There are more things in the attic. I took whatever the police had taken that night and took it to a witch to be restored. She even magicked some things from scent memory, things that couldnt be saved. There are copies for Peter and Cora too. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but-"

"Stiles, you have given me a piece of my family back. You don't have to apologize, for anything," Derek whispered fiercely, still scenting his neck. He pulled back from the hug and unwrapped the blanket from around his shoulders to put around Stiles'. "I love you, baby. You can't imagine how happy I am."

With a teary smile, Stiles flung himself into Derek's arms again. "I love you too, Derek, so much."

[sanjisblackasswife]

ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕥𝕠 𝕆𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕤𝕞

Blk Fem Reader x Sylus

Bad Summary: Sylus likes reading to you through a—girl its in the title.

CW/// Mentioned Pussy Eating, Fingering, Corny Dirty Talk, Sylus does say Kitten once i think

Sylus was a man of sassy words and also none at all. One of the many “quirks” he has that you notice he has was a rule of you wearing no panties when you lie in his bed.

You did it once because you were too lazy after your long shower to properly put on anything other than one of his shirts, when your big boyfriend came to cuddle you that evening his warm hands crept up and felt a very sweet (and slightly wet) surprise.

Now, it’s his new rules.

“Take them off, sweetie.”

You never questioned it. Many things about Sylus is that he does stuff you don’t particularly felt the need to ask about and he knew you wouldn’t so a lot of habits were formed this way without saying.

Some days when you forget to take them off he will slide them down, nearly teasing himself and take your cute little panties into his drawer.

A drawer your suspect is filled with your panties, but he replaces them everytime so you didn’t care.

“You do it.” You shrug as your eyes were glued onto a new book you taken from his shelf, hearing his dark hearty chuckle you felt the bed slightly shift and in no time arched your back lightly feeling the cool air of his room hit your cunt.

“Look at that.” He marvels, carefully taking your red panties down from your ankles, “She’s wet. What exactly are you reading, sweetie?”

You clench around nothing, hoping he couldn’t have seen your menstruations, but with those eyes he had he not only seen your clench he could even smell your arousal.

It was embarrassing to say, but the book you’ve been so glued to was a dark romance���with a lot of spicy moments, and there was a particular scene you began to read about the couple that made you reimagine it with you and Sylus.

And it subconsciously turned you on.

You felt his piercing eyes on your thighs. Jiggling with every uncomfortable shift on the bed to ignore him. It was hard though.

“Oh…” His fingers push up the book to get a good look of the cover, “That book….I’ve also read it, but never had the same reaction as you, Kitten….getting yourself riled up?”

You tsk at him and shut the book, tossing it on the night stand to face your back towards him. He embarrasses you so easily, it nearly pisses you off.

And he knew it. Sylus knows it’s easy to tease you so he begins to use his way of “apology “ by laying on his side behind you.

“Going to bed already? I wanted you to read to me. Especially the one paragraph where Johnny gets in between his wife’s thighs and…”

“Devours her whole.”

His minty hot breath in your ear made you try to arch your back off the bed but Sylus’ arm wraps around your waist and pulls you back against his bare chest. “I remember reading how he licked her clit just how she liked….but you love when I suck on it don’t you?”

You nearly roll your own eyes back, but instead your head falls on his shoulder, your breathing getting shallow.

“It was on his point of view and he mentions how sweet she tasted on his tongue, the tightness of her warmth around his mouth and fingers, as he…. Pressed his ring and middle finger inside her…”

Kind of like what he’s doing to you right now.

Sylus’ palm moved in circles as he scissored you gently, his breathing getting heavier as he is getting more turned on by how your suppressing your own moans.

“She rolled her eyes back, the songs of his name…—“

“Sylus…” You hummed.

“Repeated out of her lips as he latched onto her cute little clit before groaning against it. The tip of his tongue cold as ice in comparison to her hot cunt…”

Somehow, he managed to rile himself up, because he was no longer talking about the book.

He was talking about you.

“He uses his tongue to spell out his name, just as another way to lay claim on her beautiful pussy…”

“Sylus…”

He pulled his fingers out to gently land on your clit, tracing shapes that if you focused spelled out—

“S. Y. L. U. S.”

Eventually the S turned into a tight figure 8 , pushing you towards a familiar knot and build up in your tummy.

“Sylus…!”

“And he reacted to her ear, still playing with her and he says, cum for me’.”

His voice almost strained as if he were begging. Took you to the edge making you grind against his fingers to extend your orgasm, your loans being swallowed into his mouth.

“Then, after she releases her juices onto him, he kisses her. Reminding her that she’s right where she needs to be. With the man that adorns her.”

[yonomori-rei]

Freedom ~

Pairing: Prince!Nikolai x Noble Lady!Reader  Genre: Medieval AU (no abilities), romance, yandere  Content warning: YANDERE Nikolai, kissing Synopsis: The one thing you’ve always craved in life was freedom. Freedom from the nobility. And you think you’re the only one, until you meet him. But is he leading you to freedom, or to his cage…?

The royal palace was a thief of lives. Yeah, you read that right. The breath-taking building made of pure marble was entrancing enough to capture its beholders in a spell of awe. You follow your parents through the heavy double doors decorated with gold swirls, the velvet carpet beneath your feet leading you to the ballroom where all the nobles were gathered for the prince’s 18th birthday. 

You smooth out your extravagant gown, ridding it of non-existent creases as your breathing quickens. Subtly, you wipe your sweaty palms against your dress, and at the disapproving look your parents throw your way, paint a smile over your pained expression. It was easy to get intimidated by the palace, and even more so by the sheer number of nobles packed inside the ballroom.

You enter, poised and elegant, just like you were taught from when you were a mere child that could barely walk. Every step perfect, face void of anything real, covered with a deceptive layer of pungent sweetness. You hate the guile nature of the nobles with a burning passion. Mingling with them was a torture, a sequence of carefully crafted words and veiled threats that never fails to make your skin crawl. 

Yet, you find yourself wanting to go up to him when your eyes meet. Beautiful mismatched eyes that no painter would ever be able to capture stare back at you, with no hint of deceit, but instead, a refreshing sea of mischief swimming in those emerald and grey eyes. A wide smile lights up his face, and you feel your face grow red at that playful wink he sends your way. His snow-coloured hair is restrained in a perfect plait which lay over his shoulder, and the regal gowns he dons immediately hints to you who he was.

That ethereal man is Prince Nikolai Gogol.

In that millisecond you had turned away, the mysterious Prince had disappeared, and before you could even search for him, a warm hand gently grabbed your wrist and twirls you around into his chest. You collide with hard muscle, and steady yourself as you look up to see a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he asks in a sly tone,

“Did you enjoy staring, my little dove?”

You lower your eyes immediately, head bowed in repentance as you softly speak,

“My apologies, Your Highness, I did not mean any disrespect.”

An unfamiliar frown mars his perfect face at your docile response, not expecting the strong-willed girl he’s accustomed to watching from the shadows to fold so easily. No, this isn’t your true self, and he’s determined to bring out the fire he witnessed before. 

This isn’t the first time he’s seen you. In fact, it has been exactly 184 days, and 16 hours since the first time he saw the (H/C)-haired girl in the middle of the night, a noble shrouding herself in the clothes of peasants as she silently slinked past guards to escape, even for a moment. And it was that thirst for freedom that you had, how you saw past the gilded cage that was called the upper-class, how you saw the truth in the fancy clothes and elegant mannerisms, that drew him in. 

Prince Nikolai fell in love with the bold girl that fought for her liberty.

And once he tasted such freshness, he became addicted. This whole party is an intricate trap to snare you in his gentle embrace, to encage you to him. But you don’t need to know that, as the bright smile on his face blinds you from the truth of his intentions. Instead, you unknowingly melt into his arms, like an innocent bird lulled into a false sense of security. He reaches out, a gloved hand gently grasping your chin and lovingly coos,

“I saw genuine warmth in those pretty eyes, my dove.”

Those words have just the intended effect. Words of power that resonate with you. It makes you think that the Prince is just like you, a fellow fighter wanting to break free from the chains of the upper-class. And in a way, you are right. He hates the confines, the constraints, the chains. But there is something else to his words, an impure intention to make you his. And when the white-haired Prince wants something, he will stop at nothing to attain it.

“You want…freedom?”

It’s a quiet voice that echoes back to Nikolai, but his heart warms at how angelic your voice sounds. It’s a symphony to his ears, a song played better than the royal musicians who could never appease him. He subtly clenches his teeth, holding back the moan that threatened to escape, before replying in a controlled tone that surprises even him,

“Yes, my dove. I crave it. To be free from it all, that is what I need.”

And that was all it took for you to open up completely and trust this handsome Prince. Such a naive little bird, Nikolai thought. He is beyond elated as he twirls you around in circles, all practised moves yet with real feelings. Conversations flow between you two so so easily, almost as if you were close friends who had known each other all their lives, and with each passing second…it feels like you do. You speak and he laughs, and that sudden burst of happiness feels like freedom itself.

And soon, both of you really do escape, away from the people and away from the watchful eyes. The wind beats both your faces, and you laugh in joy, not minding the pain. You turn to Nikolai, watching in awe as his plait flew beautifully behind him, and you truly believe that you have been blessed to be standing so close to this angel…but if only you knew the truth.

You look down from the balcony, both hands clutching the rail, and close your eyes to enjoy the free wind.

“So this is freedom…”

Giggling, you let go of the rails before leaning further forwards, wanting more, needing more. With a small chuckle, Nikolai wistfully adds,

“Imagine being able to experience this everyday…it’s in times like these when I wish I were born a peasant.”

You agree earnestly, finally opening your eyes, and red covers your cheeks as you realise how close the gorgeous male was standing to you. He notices, and cheekily leans closer, loving the gasp that spills from your plump lips. You try to lean backwards to create some space, but a strong arm curves around your waist as he comments in a low voice,

“Careful, little dove…I may call you my bird, but I’m afraid you can’t fly. And I most certainly don’t want you to fall.”

You nearly whimper at his words, the way he spoke them so intimately making you almost eager to let him cage you if only you could hear more. You are exactly where Nikolai wanted you to be. But by now, all those plans have flown out of his head, and instead, he stares at you with reverence in his eyes before blurting out,

“You’re pretty.”

It's clear from the way his eyes widen a fraction of a second later that you aren’t meant to hear that, and even more so from the way his cheeks are dusted in pink, but all you hear is those simple words on repeat in your head, the sheer amount of sincerity interlaced with it making you melt over and over. You stare back at him with just as equal wonder, and he delights in the attention, pulling you closer until there is no space between you at all. 

“P-please…marry me…I want you…need you…you are my fresh air, my dove…” 

Perhaps it’s all those sweet words you exchanged with him all evening, or perhaps it’s the way the poised Prince is whining those words so needily like his life depended on it, but either way, you speak foolishly without hesitation,

“Yes. And let’s run away together.”

“To freedom?”

“To freedom.”

And with those words, Nikolai leans forwards, and your lips connect. It’s a raw kiss, and emotions spill endlessly from both of you, an unsteady rhythm and wild unpredictability interlaced with an undertone of a sweet promise of freedom. There is no way he would let go of you now. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging for entry, and who are you to refuse this angel who promised to free you from your cage? You get pulled along into a tide of passion, staring into his mismatched eyes desperately as your hands tangle messily into his hair, destroying the neat plait as it comes undone, much like the man himself. Finally, you pull away for air, chest heaving as he watches you with so much love, too much love for someone he supposedly met for the first time only this evening.

Poor you, completely clueless to everything, thinking that you are walking towards your freedom, and not realising that you have instead caged yourself to this man. At least, you will be taken care of, forever protected, unconditionally loved,.

But you might as well say goodbye to your freedom.

[shanklin]

This maybe from a while back but for the Old Ford kidnapping lil Shermie and Shrimpy Stan, wouldn’t that just traumatize Stan because Ford looks like Filbrick?

And a guy that looks like his dad that he killed, stalking him and Shermie?

I have a feeling that wouldn’t go very well

Selfish Shellfish AU - Masterpost

Hey, @emiliens I got an ask for you.

At least I think it's referring to Emilien's drabble HERE about the Shrimp getting kidnapped by an older Ford, where the Shellfish!Shermie and his Stan make a cameo.

Well, I shall leave the answer to that version to Emilien and will give you a completely different version that you definitely didn't ask for, under the cut :)

Everyone knew, Stanford Pines was the best in his field.

Need a person found? A murder to be solved? A mystery to be uncovered? Stanford Pines was your man. He was the type of guy you’d only see in movies or trashy novels; a genius master detective beyond compare.

They said there has never been a case he hasn’t solved or a person he hasn’t been able to track down, but that was a load of horse shit.

Ford cursed as he stomped through the thick forest holding his bleeding wrist. The spell needed a constant stream of fresh blood from the person you were looking for, which made it particularly useless in normal circumstances.

But these weren't normal circumstances and Ford was desperate. It’s been thirty years since he solved his fathers murder. Thirty two since he last saw his brothers. 

Their disappearance has led Ford onto the path of becoming a private investigator and yet it has been the only case he has never been able to solve.

Another branch hit Ford's forehead and he groaned. This spell was a bust as well. He has been following it for weeks now, constantly bleeding out and refilling his blood supply in hope the red thread that's being created would finally lead him to his twin.

There was no doubt in Ford's mind that he was unwelcome in Stan’s life, not after how he had selfishly abandoned him with an abusive father and refused to see the signs. Because of him, because of them, Stan had been pushed to the brink and was forced to kill in order to survive.

Still, Ford needed to apologize. He needed Stan to know that they did care and that they did love him even though they failed him terribly.

And he needed to deliver the last letters Grauntie Mabel and Grunkle Dipper wrote him. Pages upon pages of unsaid apologies, packed away in tear stained envelopes.

Their family fell apart after Stan and Shermie's disappearance and they never recovered. The rift between Mabel and Dipper that had never been fully healed, just messily stapled together by a woman desperate to change everything about herself to be loved again, had reopened and nothing Ford had tried had been enough to fix it.

In the end Ford grew up in a house filled with deafening silence and regret and it was still more than he deserved. It was nothing compared to what his brothers went through.

Ford sighed and wiped away his tears. Crying never brought his brother back. It was an indulgence better suited for birthdays and especially bad nights.

He turned around, ready to call it quits and return home when he suddenly felt a twinge on his wrist. The bloody string tightened and pulled him deeper into the forest, past thick trees and thorny bushes and right into an abandoned clearing where it turned into droplets of blood. The spell broke after fulfilling its purpose, but Ford barely noticed it. His eyes focused on a red withered car in the middle of the clearing.

Stanley must be inside.

Ford tried to speak and make himself known, but all words escaped him. He took a step forward and felt blood running down his arm as his heart started to run a marathon. He felt faint. 

What would Stan be doing here in the middle of nowhere inside a broken car?

Ford tried to smile. Maybe it was just a secret hideout like they had as children. If Stan would give him another chance, they could buy a boat or build one from scratch and sail away from here, far far away to a place without cars with windows made out of plastic wrap and blood dripping down  the floor.

Drip

Drip

Drip

Ford took a shaky step forward. And another. The world tilted and he crashed against the car, one hand ripping the plastic wrap on the back window apart.

A couple of minutes passed before Ford finally caught his breath and looked inside.

There they were. His brothers, all cuddled up on the backseat in a nest of pillows. Ford saw it clearly. Stan was telling Shermie fantastical stories of their adventures. Ford was jealous he missed it.

He smiled.

“There you are. I’ve been worried sick looking for you.”

The skeletal remains of his brothers stare blankly back at him.

Ford gripped the edge of the window, ignoring the sting of broken glass ripping into his flesh and opened the door.

“Right. Right. Okay. Let’s get you out of here first. It’s getting cold.”

With shaking hands Ford reached out to bring them home. The moment he touched his little brother’s body, a shiver ran down his spine and his breath began to fog.

An invisible force crashed into him and pushed him out of the car and to the edge of the clearing. The wind picked up and dark clouds filled the sky as a blurry figure positioned itself between Ford and the car.

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH HIM, PA!”, It howled through the forest and Ford's brain, which has been moving in slow motion since the moment he entered the clearing, went into overdrive.

Behind the figure, Ford made out another tiny blob peaking through the car window. 

Ford grinned, then laughed as he pushed himself up. He still felt lightheaded but everything was so much clearer now. This was good. Fantastic. His brothers' souls were still around.

That meant he could fix it.

“Heh, you still pack quite the punch.” Ford laughed as the figure got ready for round two.

Why yes, this is an evil AU for THIS wonderful drabble by my beloved Shermie Anon.

[aplaceinthedark]

chapter 5: WHEN the NIGHT'S DUE

Summary: The Appalachian Mountains hide numerous monsters, and it's up to Taylor and the Bad Omens to prevent them from causing any harm.

Word Count: 2.5k+

CW: Supernatural themes, mentions of witchcraft

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave this temple without causing harm.

“I'll do it.”

I told Nick those words forty-eight hours after his proposal. He had looked up from his drawing tablet with wide green eyes, and he nearly let out his breath when I continued.

“On one condition.”

I learned his Practice. Despite not having his Gift, I had learned that I could be taught how to do certain things. I had done it once, maybe I could do it again.

“You casted that location spell because of my essence nestled in your soul,” Nick had explained. He had used his own soul to heal me, and I kept a hold of it until it could find its way back to Nick: when I used it to bring him back from the dead.

“But you could still teach me so I can help you with the hex books.” I had even fluttered my eyelashes at him.

Honestly, it hadn't taken much persuading to get him to yield. "After the Ritual, we’ll start,” he said, kissing me on the nose.

And that's how I found myself reading a translated hex book, lying on my stomach on a warm, dry rock.

The first day of May fortunately provided a steady warmth, though it didn't extend to this part of the woods. Thankfully the sun was out, warming the spot Jolly and I occupied. Over the months, I had learned to use Jolly's music as a way to focus, and now I could resist the alluring magic of it.

Where Folio had become the energetic younger brother and Noah had become the annoying middle child, Jolly was more my friend than the others. We could sit in companionable silence and be fine, as opposed to the other two haints. I just wish I could see him more often, since he was confined to the river that ran through the Holler.

The same Holler which would be the scene for tonight.

That thought crept up on me again, and I shook my head as if that could erase it. Nick was back at our home, preparing for tonight. Apparently, there were “things he had to prep,” which he wouldn't tell me about. Of course, he told Noah, which didn't help my uneasiness.

My anxiousness started to bubble in the pit of my stomach, so I closed my eyes and focused on Jolly again:

“I thought I wanted legacy; I thought I wanted fame. I didn't know I'd lose all my loved ones in exchange,” he sang quietly, barely audible over the strings of his guitar. “Left them all behind, and, yeah, for that I am ashamed, but that's the price I'm paying ‘til I'm buried in my grave.”

“When did you make that one?” I asked.

Jolly continued plucking at the strings. “This one was one of the first songs I made,” he said.

“You haven't played it before.”

“I play it a lot, lilla. You're just not around for it.”

I made a face at his back. He let out a throaty chuckle.

“Your entourage is back,” Jolly said suddenly.

I looked over my shoulder and along the riverbank to see Folio making his way through the shallows. The New Moon was over, so he wasn't confined to his Grim shape, but I could tell he was still suffering from what Noah liked to call “Dog Brain.”

“Up and at ‘em, Bunny,” Folio said, flashing his sharp teeth up at me. I rolled my eyes.

“Until next time, Jolly,” I said, gathering my things and stuffing them into my bag. Jolly hummed out a response.

“You could always provide tonight's mood music!” Folio joked, earning a glare from the two of us.

I unsteadily made my way down the rock until I was in Folio's reach. He suddenly wrapped his hands around my waist, picking me up and putting me down on ground level. His hands lingered, especially when he threw an arm around my shoulders as we walked into the forest.

“Uh, Fish?” I piped up.

“Hm?”

“You're being handsy,” I said.

He jerked away with a hastily mumbled apology. I heard him mumble something about “must be near the time of the month.”

Slowly we made our way back to the house, where Nick was waiting for us. Folio immediately beelined for the shower, and I almost made it to the dining room table before Nick intercepted me.

“Nicky–” I was cut off when he placed his lips along my neck. “Nick, Folio's here.”

“I don't care,” Nick muttered into my skin, kissing a path up to my jaw.

“You'll care when he gets whipped up into a frenzy. Remember the last time that happened?”

He sighed, pulling away. “I hate that you're right,” he said.

“You alright? You never jump on me like this,” I said.

His response was not what I expected. “Let's just… call the whole thing off. Maybe there's another way in the hex books–”

“Nicholas Ryan Ruffilo, this was your idea.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

Nick groaned. “I know, I know, but…” he trailed off, then sighed again. “I'm sorry. Working on the ritual for tonight has got me annoyed.”

“Anything I could do to help?" I asked.

“Nope, I'm done. The next steps are in Noah’s and your hands.”

I grimaced, and I was about to agree with him when Folio came out of the bathroom. “Guys, you're gonna undo what the cold shower did if you keep it up," he grumbled.

“Then I suppose you're not staying for dinner?” Nick asked.

“Did those words come out of my mouth? I'm sure those words didn't come out of my mouth.”

I don't know how we were able to have a normal supper despite the gravity of the night hanging over us, but we did. It was a little bit quieter, since Folio wasn't his usual chatty self. Not to mention Noah was missing.

Folio didn't stay long after that. “What's his problem? Did I miss something?” I asked.

“He's grouchy because he doesn't get a turn. His words, not mine," Nick said. I rolled my eyes.

With the sun setting, Nick started getting' everything ready. I watched him put several things in a bag, including candles and a thermos. “Is there something I'm supposed to do?" I asked.

“As much as I don't want to, I have to send you into the woods," Nick said. Seeing my worried face, he hurriedly continued. “Don't worry, Noah's got the path locked down. He'll meet you halfway and take you to the Grove.”

“And when we get there?” I asked.

“Take the candles and place them in a circle. The biggest one goes at the base of the big oak tree. You'll know which one it is when you see it," he said, his back to me as he opened the fridge. “That's the candle that gets lit last. You both drink the tea that's in there. That'll help with… the warmth."

“And then?”

“You know what happens next," he said. “As long as it… takes.”

“As long as it takes? What's that supposed to mean?” I asked incredulously.

“As long as it takes. Could be a few minutes, could be all night," he said. He turned around and placed a bunch of flowers on the table.

"Nick. I'm thirty. Not to mention crippled,” I said.

“I don't know, that's never stopped you before,” he said, weakly smiling at me. “Is the tattoo not helping?”

“It's fine,” I said. I sighed. “Do I have to wear something? Or can I just wear what I have on now?”

He eyed my borrowed Deftones shirt and jeans. "Honestly? That's fine. You just have to wear that.” He pointed to the flowers.

“I have to wear a bouquet?” I asked

“Listen, it's been a while since I made a flower crown. And my sister wasn't exactly the best teacher.”

Nick gently placed the flower crown on my head. It shifted downwards, one side more than the other. It pushed my bangs into my eyes, concealing Nick behind a curtain of blonde.

“Alright, that’s kinda cute.”

I pushed the crown up. “Alright, anything else?” I asked.

There was only a moment before Nick crowded me against the door, his full lips crashing onto mine. I met him with the same amount of fervor, forgetting what I had to do tonight. As I opened my mouth to him, he groaned and pulled away.

“If we continue, I won't be able to let you go out there,” he said. He turned and picked up the bag. “Guess that means it's time to go.”

Nick slipped his denim jacket onto me before we went outside. The warmth from earlier had vanished, probably even before the sun had set. The familiar background noise of the forest was comforting.

Nick led me down to where the weeds separated my lawn from the woods. He then pressed a flashlight into my hand and slipped the bag onto my shoulder.

“Just keep walking in a straight line until you see Noah,” he said. “And you know the rules.”

“Eyes straight, don't conversate,” I said our motto from memory.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. He kissed my forehead. “Love you, Bun.”

“Love you, Nicky.”

“If he treats you bad, kick his ass,” he said.

I nodded and started walking. As soon as both feet were inside the forest, all sounds stopped. The urge to look back at Nick was strong, but the third rule was stronger. Don't look back.

I didn't know how long I had been walking. My phone was back at the house since it never worked right in the deep woods. The only way I could tell the time was by how tired my legs were and how my hip protested. Nick's enchanted tattoo could only do so much.

The worst part was that Noah wasn't talking. I tried casting out my thoughts, but all I got was radio silence… brain silence? Whatever it could be called. I asked him how much further, can't he just meet me now, all that. Nothing. It was just me, my flashlight, and the eerie forest.

I had started to think that maybe he had called the whole thing off when I heard a noise behind me. My footsteps faltered a bit, but I kept walking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large shadow disappear. Not like my humanoid shadow; this one looked like an animal.

It's probably Folio, making sure you're safe, I told myself. They wouldn't leave you out here in danger.

It was hard to keep my eyes forward, especially when I knew that presence was there. And especially when it kept circling closer and closer.

Just Folio just Folio just Folio.

It passed the corner of my vision again, closer this time, and with startling horror, I realized it was twice as big as Folio and wasn't white.

NOAH FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK–

Suddenly, the Thing vanished. I could hear heavy steps retreating, as if it got scared or was lured away. I stopped my trek for a moment, sucking in my breath to calm my frantically beating heart.

When I let out my breath, I noticed it was visible. I had passed into the holler.

“You made it.”

I gasped as I whipped towards Noah's voice. Noah blinked as the beam of my flashlight hit his face. He was just standing there, hands in the pockets of his ratty jeans.

"What the hell was even–” I cut myself off, realizing I was practically shouting. Lowering my voice, I asked, "What was that?”

Recovered, Noah frowned, brow furrowing. “Something definitely not from the Valley, and definitely not from this part of the mountains.”

“You could've at least acknowledged me," I said, wrapping Nick's jacket tighter around me. The flower crown slipped a little further down, almost obscuring my vision again. I pushed it back up with a finger.

Despite the low light from the flashlight, I caught a flicker of fear on Noah's face before he schooled it back to one of indifference. “C’mon, we still have a ways to go.” He turned and walked away.

“Hang on–” I stumbled after him. A sharp pain shot up from my knee. “Ow! I just hiked here. Can't I get a… break?”

“We have to get started before midnight,” Noah said, but at least he stopped.

“Oh yeah, let's fuck after I climbed and was tailed by some unknown Thing–”

Noah had been moving back to me, but I didn’t anticipate him picking me up and throwing me over his shoulder. “Noah! What are you–” I demanded. The flower crown had fallen onto the ground, and it was quickly abandoned as Noah started walking.

“Taking you to the Grove. What else would it be?” he asked, his tone cold.

“Listen, you ass,” I snapped, pushing myself up to where my upper half was parallel to the ground. “Put me down or I'll–”

“What? Kick my ass?" he snorted. The urge to punch him right in the center of his back tree tattoo was rising.

“Nick told me to if you were an ass to me,” I shot back.

“He told me, and I would love to see you try.”

“At least carry me with some dignity instead of manhandling–"

I was suddenly tipping backwards as he pulled me off his shoulder and put me back on the ground. I stumbled back a few steps before catching myself.

"I'm not doing this if all we're gonna do is bicker the whole way there,” he said.

“Noah, all I wanted was a break. I'm in pain," I stated. “And before you say that that's why you were carrying me, you practically folded me in half over your shoulder.”

Noah was clenching and unclenching his hands. If I hadn't known better, I would've said he was trying to prevent himself from hitting me. Except I knew it was a nervous tic.

“Noah, what's wrong?" I asked.

With one breath, he thawed. “I can't– I don't–” the stammered before pausing. He looked back up from the ground to me, that fear from earlier painted clearly on his face. “I don't think I can do this.”

My mouth went dry. All that time trying to get me warmed up to this idea, and we never considered to ask Noah if he was still up for this. “Noah, it's okay."

“No it's not!" he shouted. "I've only been the Watcher for barely several years, and I fucked that up! What's not to say I don't fuck up this?”

Oh.

“Well, what's to say that I don't fuck this up?" I asked. “I don't know what I'm doing either.”

That seemed to ease him a little bit. I closed the distance and placed my hand on his arm. “Let's go be fuck-ups. Together.”

That got him to smile a little bit. “Fine. Let's go be fuck-ups," he said. He then held out his arms. “Your carriage, m’lady. Gender neutrally saying, of course.”

Instead I dodged around him and jogged back to the flower crown. I picked it up and plopped it back onto my head. I then ran back to him and bent at the knees. He scooped me up with an ease that surprised me.

And we went to the Grove. Together.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog to share the word of the Revered Father. Next chapter coming soon (you know what it is)

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[maharlika]

tend

a little halstarion ficlet written for @cielsosinfel for the prompt "halstarion wound tending"

warnings for blood and implied (non-graphic) abuse/torture

--

Halsin wakes in the middle of the night to the smell of blood. He raises his snout into the air, paws shifting restlessly on the soft dirt. The coppery scent lingers for but a moment, but it is enough for his heightened animal senses to snag onto. He pushes his way out of his tent, an elf again, and walks towards Astarion’s humble abode.

The camp is deathly silent, and the night is cool. He finds Astarion sitting just outside of his tent, shirtless and twisting awkwardly in what looks like an attempt to reach a spot on his back. 

Halsin stops a few meters away, hesitating, but then he sees Astarion’s ears twitch in annoyance. 

“I know you’re there. I may not know how to spontaneously turn into an animal, but my hearing is just as keen. Though I suppose a vampire is just another kind of beast.” 

Halsin sighs internally—he’s always so prickly, their vampiric companion. But he soldiers on: “Apologies. I smelled blood and thought—but I can leave you to it.” 

Astarion frowns, his shoulders sagging. 

“Unless you could use the help?”

“One of the goblins may have gotten too close,” Astarion admits. He turns as Halsin draws closer, and shows him the deep gash on his back, raking across the circle of his gruesome scars. The blood around the wound is caked and dark, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly, which is worrying. Why hadn’t Astarion told anyone?

Halsin winces in sympathy. “I have healing potions—”

“No,” Astarion says, rather forcefully. He takes a deep breath, then says, with an air of forced lightness, “It’ll heal on its own, there’s no need to waste a potion.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Halsin says. “And if you don’t want to use a potion, we can wake Shadowheart.”

Astarion shakes his head vehemently, his curls swaying with the motion. “It’s fine.”

“Then how can I help?” Halsin asks instead, feeling his patience start to fray. He’s never been good with people who refuse help—all the time spent playing a healer out of necessity should have rid him of this trait, but alas, it only seems to have compounded it.

Astarion raises a hand, and Halsin sees what he’s been holding on to this whole time: a needle and thread.

“It’ll heal faster if it’s closed,” Astarion says, eyes averted. “I’d do it myself, but it’s in a…tricky spot.”

“Let me get this straight,” Halsin says incredulously, “you’ll not accept a healing potion or a healing spell, but you want me to sew your wound closed, causing you a fair amount more pain. Is that right?”

“I suppose you’re not as stupid as you look,” Astarion says, but the haughty smile that graces his lips is a frail line, easily broken.

“Oak Father preserve me against stubborn vampires,” Halsin says, but he takes the needle. 

Astarion startles when Halsin puts a hand on the cold curve of his shoulder but relaxes when Halsin murmurs an apology. 

He does not stir when the needle slides through skin, through flesh. 

How many times, Halsin wonders, has he done this to himself before? He has seen Astarion sew, hunched protectively over bloody, fraying clothes. The light, easy movement of his hands, the glimmer of the needle, the pull of the thread. How many times has Astarion sat by himself, in the dark, sewing his body back together? 

Halsin is no surgeon, but he’s mended enough broken bodies to make quick work of the wound. Soon, it is neatly laced shut, and he hands the bloody needle back Astarion, who has not uttered a word since they started.

“Astarion?” Halsin asks.

Astarion’s shifts, turning to him, eyes half-lidded. He looks exhausted, his lower lip broken and bleeding, as if he had bitten himself to stifle any sort of noise.

How many Gods-damned times, Halsin thinks again, feeling the surge of some helpless, molten anger rise in his chest.

“Thank you,” Astarion says, looking as if he’s about to keel over any second.

“Would you like to feed?” Halsin asks. 

Astarion blinks, slow. He licks his lips, eyes darting to Halsin’s neck. But eventually, he shakes his head. 

“No,” he says. “No, you’ve done enough. I’ll sleep it off. Thank you.”

And as much as he’d like to push, Halsin knows Astarion has already revealed more than he’s comfortable with, tonight. So he nods, turns around, and walks towards the river, where he washes his hands. Blood meanders through the water, then diffuses into nothing. 

How precious that blood must be to Astarion, who must take it from living creatures to survive. How cruelly it must have been spilled by a sadistic hand. 

When they find Cazador, Halsin thinks, he would very much like to rend his limbs apart until they are unsalvageable, nothing that can be put back together by needle and thread.

[futurehunt]

My Old Friend, Fire

Azriel x Eris

Against his better wishes, Azriel has found himself growing close to the new Autumn High Lord, Eris Vanserra. The male has dug himself under his skin and now he can't get him out. An invitation to the Autumn Equinox changes the path of Azriel's life for the better.

Read on AO3

AO3 version is updated with editing and spelling corrections!!

Word count: 15,737

Azriel POV

18+

Content warning: Smut- story can be enjoyed fully without reading it!

*no beta, we die in Prythian

This is long, I apologize! It's a lot of feeling, realizing, and longing. Azriel's got all the emotions. Flashbacks are in italics- they all have important details in them that tie in at the end so don't miss 'em!

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

"I would do it all again. I would suffer another five centuries of you loving another, another five centuries of facing my father's cruelty, another five centuries of being hated by all of Prythian just for this- just for you."

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

Read full story below

Azriel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting at the pinching sensation caused by the buttons on the wing-flaps of his jacket.

Mor had bought it special for him, special for today.

It was a tight-fitted jacket made of a dark, woodsy green fabric. Along the cuffs and collar were sewn black embellishments that swirled and shaped a pattern so complex that Azriel hated to think of how many hours went into creating it. Intricately carved silver buttons ran up the front and finished at a final clasp around the middle of his neck.

Mor said the jacket suited him, brought out the colors in his eyes. Azriel just felt like a fool.

He'd been on edge all week leading up to tonight. The Autumnal Equinox, Mabon. The Autumn Court's Great Rite.

It was Eris's first Equinox as High Lord of Autumn. He had graciously extended an invite to Rhysand, Feyre and the Inner Circle- his treasured allies he mockingly referred to them as in his letter- and encouraged them to come celebrate his new position and experience a true taste of Autumn.

"Treasured?"

Eris remained silent in response, bow drawn tight. His sharp gaze honed in on a pheasant, trackings its movement through the stalks of wheat. Its emerald neck acting as a beacon for the eye.

Azriel wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, how it would burn.

On an exhale, Eris let the arrow fly. "Don't talk while I'm aiming, it's rude." He turned towards Azriel, not bothering to spare a glance to see if his arrow met its mark. Eris released a shrill whistle and his hounds took off, cutting through the stalks to their target.

"Treasured?" Azriel pressed again.

"I used my thesaurus for that one." Eris quipped back.

Azriel squinted his eyes at the High Lord. "You like being disliked, don't you. You're a masochist."

"You like me".

"I tolerate you." There was a chill in the wind that blew towards them across the field. It dusted red across Eris's pale cheeks, the fire in his blood seemingly not fighting the bite of the cold. "Here are the reports we have on Koschei. He's getting desperate."

Eris reached out for the thin file from Azriel, the full might of the hunter's gaze finally locked onto him. It burned right through him, just as Azriel had suspected. Burned right through to the icy center of him.

Rhysand and Feyre decided they would not attend. While they wanted to put on a good show for diplomacy, they deemed it unnecessary for the High Lord and High Lady to make an appearance. And as it is with them, where one goes so does the other. In their stead, Azriel, Mor, Cassian, and Nesta would be attending as representatives of the Night Court. Azriel was pretty sure Cassian and Nesta only decided to tag along because they wanted to fuck in the woods.

Azriel chuckled to himself as he remembered the conversation in which Cassian crudely explained to Nesta the erotic nature of Great Rite celebrations after nightfall. Nesta had known the basics, brief snippets of information from what Feyre had deigned to share with her about Calanmai, Spring Court's Great Rite, but wasn't aware the seasonal courts all had their own version. Nesta was all too eager to attend after learning everything.

Mor was attending because. . . he wasn't entirely sure. Azriel knew Mor had made great strides in accepting Eris as an ally of the court, knew that she had traveled the path of forgiveness with him and the two were on amicable terms. Amicable, nothing more. Eris certainly did not make it easy, he was still an asshole. Gods was he an asshole.

But Azriel also knew she was still haunted by the past. Saw it in the glaze in her deep brown eyes every time Keir threw barbed comments her way. Azriel gathered that this visit tonight would serve as one of Mor's final steps in conquering the demons of her past. Regardless, she seemed all too willing to attend.

It was part of the reason Azriel agreed to join the visit today- why Rhysand pulled him aside and adamantly requested he tag along. Though Rhysand's request left little room for disagreement.

He wanted Azriel there to keep an eye on Mor. Rhysand knew all too well how suffocating the horrors of your past could be. Azriel remembers vividly the nights, not too long ago, when dark power filled with shadows and stars would burst through his brother's window as he drowned under the weight of everything that haunted him.

.…........................

That's how Azriel found himself here, in the ornately decorated receiving room of the River House, the base of his wings getting pinched to Hel by the jacket Mor bought him for Mabon.

He's the first to arrive as usual.

It was barely past three in the afternoon but the sun, beaming in through the room's westerly windows, was already on a quick descent. His shadows dodged the rays and dissipated whenever they come in contact.

Azriel thumbed the plum, silk curtains that draped the large picture window whose frame he leaned on. Not that he would ever utter the thought out loud but he found the interior of his brother's home a bit gaudy. Fit for a High Lord, no doubt, but it felt impersonal.

Eris's manor smelled of sandalwood and cinnamon. Woodsy and sweet. The scent stuck inside of Azriel's nose, invading his senses. It invoked a nostalgia for an experience he had yet to live.

"The magic in Spring is growing weak- I can feel it in the land at our shared border. We need to get Tamlin back on track," Eris spoke without preamble. He stood opposite Azriel, a smoke gray granite countertop separating them. The texture of the stone rippled and eddied, it felt like the scars on his hands.

"Tea?"

Azriel nodded in assent and looked around the kitchen in which they stood. Dark brown wood laid the foundation of the room, it blended well with the warm colors of the furnishing.

"You made yourself right at home. Was your father's body even cold before you started moving in?" The question was probably too crude, even for Azriel.

Yesterday marked a month since the long awaited death of Beron Vanserra finally came to fruition.

Eris merely smirked over at him, taking his crass question in stride as he poured the second cup of tea. His eyes traced over every inch of Azriel's face before he responded, "You wound me, brute. This manor hasn't been inhabited since my grandfather. My father felt it too exposed and only resided in an apartment deep within the Forest House."

Azriel snorted. His only response. He continued to take in the room.

In the corner of the kitchen was a nook that housed a dining area encased by a dome of windows on one half. It gave the illusion that you were dining out in the jeweled canopy of the woods.

His attention caught on the dining chairs that surrounded the table.

They were all shaped to fit wings.

Growing weary of the solitude, Azriel decided to set out to track down Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx in the massive house when the carved wood door at the home's entrance swung open. From his spot within the receiving room, Azriel watched Mor strut in.

"I knew that color would look great on you," She tittered, looking him up and down, "you really ought to let me buy you more for your wardrobe."

Azriel's face pinched - answer enough to her demand.

"A shame" she bemoaned, throwing herself on to one of the room's stiff cobalt couches. "Where's Cass and his Lady Death? We should be off soon."

"Don't call her that." Azriel chastised, not having an answer for the first part of her question.

Mor just shot him a look, rolling her eyes. It's been a year and a half since Nesta sacrificed her Cauldron-stolen power for the life of her sister and nephew, yet Mor still clung to that infernal nickname. For Mor it's all in good fun, but Azriel never fails to catch the haunted look that ghosts Nesta's face whenever the moniker is used in her presence.

As if on cue, he heard the bustle of Cassian and Nesta coming in through the home's rear entrance. No doubt they landed on the back lawn after flying down from the House of Wind. Cass still likes to give Nesta a good fright by coming in hot for his landings, the back lawn providing a perfect landing zone for him.

Confirming his suspicions, Nesta's face is tinged with green as she rounded the corner and came in sight of Azriel and Mor.

"Cassian, they're in here," she called over her shoulder. Her hair, uncharacteristically, is worn loose today, with a tight braid running down the center of her head segregating both halves of her hair. Her mauve, linen dress was modest in the length of its hem and sleeves but clung to her frame in a way that suggested excellent tailoring. As she twisted to shout to his brother, Azriel noted the deep scoop of the dress's back.

"You look...very good today, Nesta." Azriel said to her as she twisted back around and entered the receiving room. Not that she didn't usually, though she now wore her Valkyrie leathers more often than not.

Mor interjected from the couch, "You didn't say anything to me! I even complimented your jacket".

"Your ego doesn't need anymore stroking, dear sister." Cassian quipped sarcastically, picking up the conversation without pause as he too rounded the corner and entered the room. "And, my even dearer mate is upset with me so she told me she'll be leaving me tonight for our beloved- her words not mine- High Lord of Autumn".

Azriel hummed his acknowledgment, not wanting to voice anything that may incidentally draw himself into the middle of their squabble.

Eris would probably think she looked drab in the linen dress.

"Linen is the fabric of the working class, Azriel," Eris drawled, a mischievous grin lifting the right corner of his mouth.

Even from his position on the leather tufted couch on the opposite end of the room, Azriel could see the mirth glimmering in Eris's eyes from where he sat behind his grand mahogany desk. Azriel twisted away from the sight to look back into the depths of the crackling fireplace that warmed the High Lord's office.

"You're just a snob", he shot at Eris, not bothering to turn around again.

He heard him snort. "Linen is a lightweight, breathable, porous fabric. It is designed to be worn by those working the fields. It's not supposed to be fashionable- I'd look like a fool wearing linen to a dinner with my court representatives. Apologies for knowing the intricacies of garments and how they relate to socio-economic class."

Azriel couldn't help himself. Throwing an arm across the back of the couch he twisted to look back at Eris again.

"Lightweight, breathable, porous fabric? You're a snob and an ass." He secretly delighted in the look of glee that flashed across Eris's face at the insult. "Why even ask for my opinion then? If your own was so decisive."

"I like to hear what you think." Nothing but truth burned in the amber flames of Eris's eyes.

"Thank you, Azriel." Nesta shot sharply at him. She lowered herself gracefully onto the couch opposite of Mor. Not allowing space on either side of her for Cassian and his wings, leaving him to settle in standing next to Azriel.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder and looked over at his brother who leaned in and said, "Nice jacket, Az. You look like a proper little prince of Autumn in it".

Azriel scoffed, taking a wide step away from his brother before quickly twisting his body to punch Cassian in the arm in retribution for his gibe.

Nesta guffawed from where she perched on the couch. Composing herself, she remarked, "At least he made an effort! You look like you're ready for a visit to Windhaven."

It was true. Cassian donned a standard set of his leathers, albeit cleaner and newer than his usual ones.

"Whatever. I'm not making an effort for the prick," Cassian shot, impudence lacing his tone. "It's an Equinox celebration that the entire court is invited to, at most we'll see him to shake his hand before he moves on to others he deems more worthy of his time."

He wasn't wrong. Like Calanmai in Spring, Grianstad in Winter, or Litha in Summer, denizens of Autumn flooded to their court's seat during Mabon to celebrate the equinox and participate in the Great Rite. It's a tradition, Azriel heard, that even Beron nurtured and encouraged. After all, a fruitful turnout for a Great Rite produces a wealth of magic for the court. Azriel is sure that another strong motivator for Beron's patronage of the event were the swaths of young fae females that showed up clambering for his attention, hoping the magic of the Rite would choose them for their High Lord. Even the deep-seated fear and corruption that Beron plagued the land with wasn't enough to dim the honor of being selected by whatever powers governed the Rite.

This year, for the first time, it would be Eris's turn to lead the Great Rite. He would pair off with a lady and together they would fuel enough magic to inundate the land until the next Mabon. The thought settled like glass in Azriel's stomach.

"Even then," Cassian continued "he'll likely only deign to be touched by you, Nesta. The rest of us are too beneath him for an actual handshake."

"Speak for yourself, Cassian," Mor chimed in indignantly.

Nesta hummed in agreement and added, "He'd probably give Azriel a handshake. After all, he's the closest with Eris out of any of us at this point."

"We are not close," Azriel growled at her defensively.

He immediately regretted his tone when he saw the trepidation in her eyes. He felt like his father.

"Is your father still alive?" curiosity clouded Eris's face from across the chessboard between them.

Azriel's eyes flickered up to him for a moment to take in his demeanor before refocusing on the board as he took one of Eris's black marble bishops with his gleaming, white knight.

"How is that a pertinent question?"

"How is playing chess pertinent," Eris countered.

"As the official liaison between the Night and Autumn court, it's my duty to make sure our allies are properly schooled in all forms of strategy," Azriel arrogantly replied. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep his grin from spreading across his face. After six months of working with Eris as liaison between their two courts, he had come to enjoy the haughty banter the pair fell into in each other's presence.

"Azriel," Eris dead-panned.

Azriel would never admit to the shiver that ran through him at the sound of his name in Eris's mouth. Shame washed over him at the mere acknowledgement of the sensation.

"He's dead," he at last replied to Eris, dryly.

"He gave you those burns?"

Azriel only shook his head.

"You're ashamed of them." An observation, not a question from the High Lord.

Azriel settled his face into a sheet of neutrality. His centuries-old mental barriers slamming into place as the topic of conversation entered an area he had no interest in going.

Playing his turn, Azriel hoped to end the game quickly now. He shouldn't have stayed this long anyway, was only there to assess the durability of the security wards around Forest House as a courtesy to Eris.

Quiet blanketed them as the pair finished up their game. Azriel refused to raise his eyes to look at Eris.

"Beron would have healers erase all the scars he etched on me. For five centuries."

"I don't care, Eris." Cruel words that did not reflect the truth. He did care- deep down in a pocket of his soul that he never let see the light of day- he cared about what Eris had to say.

Azriel still refused to raise his gaze up to the High Lord sitting across from him.

"He would erase everything he did to me. No proof that I lived. No proof that I suffered. No proof that I survived. All my torment is trapped inside my head with no evidence that it happened, no outlet for escape... I wish he had left them... but that was probably the point of healing them in the first place."

Eris's declaration cut deep through him, burning through the layers of his defenses in a rage of fire.

He stayed for another round of chess.

Azriel ran a scarred hand down his face, mortification riding through him in waves.

"I'm sorry, Nesta, I didn't mean to snap."

Nesta shook off his words with ease. "I only mean to say, you literally are closest with him," she pressed on "the rest of us haven't even seen him since his crowning ceremony eleven months ago. You're the only one meeting with him anymore."

Of course. He was such an idiot. Of course that's what she meant.

Cassian came up behind him, clamped his hands on his shoulders, and jostled him jovially. His brother's voice boomed behind me, "Don't worry, Az, we know you still hate the lordling as much as ever. We'd never dare suggest otherwise." Azriel could've sworn he heard an undercurrent of sarcasm lacing his brother's tone.

But he didn't hate Eris. Didn't hate him at all. Dreaded the looks on his family's faces when they realized just how much he didn't hate Eris Vanserra anymore.

That was the other part of the reason he agreed to join the visit today. For the past eleven months he'd been working as the Night Court's liaison to Autumn, having taken it over from Cassian, he's found himself... inexplicably drawn to the High Lord. Perhaps in the absence of conflict, Azriel was subconsciously poking around for danger and adrenaline. Eris made his blood boil and he was addicted to it. Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Mor was looking at him with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"We should go." Was all he said to the room.

The females got up from their respective places on the couches and together they all trundled through the receiving room out into foyer.

"Guess Rhys and Feyre don't want to see us off," Mor observed.

"Ten gold marks they're both dead asleep upstairs. Nuala told us that Nyx has started climbing out of his crib at night and that Rhys and Feyre can't leave him unattended for even a second," Cassian added, laughing.

The four of them headed out to the front courtyard, not wanting to check and risk waking the parents up. They cut across to a point that would put them outside the wards encasing the River House.

Nesta grabbed Cassian's hand. Feyre, in her free time, had been teaching Nesta how to winnow. The eldest sister became adept at it rather quickly and could even carry Cassian along with her over great distances.

Together, they winnowed away to the Autumn Court.

....................

A thrum of voices chattering around him was the first sensation Azriel perceived as his shadows dissipated and left him standing in an area of woods on the outskirts of the Forest House.

The next sensation to follow was an aroma of smoked meat, spun sugar, and baked pastries.

Surrounding him, and stretching out as far as he could see, were merchant stands and food stalls. There seemed to be no coordination with how the stalls were organized. They were dotted randomly throughout the woods, the sea of stands interspersed with giant oak trees that comprised this section of the forest.

Waves of people bustled around him, side-stepping the obstacle of his body in order to reach their next destination.

He snapped his wings tight into him to avoid any unwanted contact.

Azriel looked over the heads of the fae surrounding him to try and locate Mor, Nesta, and Cassian. There had to be thousands here. His eyesight found no end to the mass of people.

At last, he spotted the three of them already together a few hundred paces away, ogling the vendors. He made his way over and heard the last snatch of what Mor was saying.

"- seen these only in Montesere." Her voice was filled with awe.

They were huddled around a table laden with glazed pottery. Plates, mugs, and bowls all painted with rich, vibrant jewel tones.

"Eris reached out to a few territories on the continent to invite local artisans to come sell their wares at this year's Mabon," Azriel confirmed, sidling up beside Mor. "With Calanmai being... not what it used to...with everything going on with Tamlin...Eris is trying to pick up some of the slack."

Mor's face twisted in surprise at his words.

"And I think he's trying to set a good precedent. After all, Beron only allowed upper-class and high fae craftsmen to set up booths here and apparently he even took a cut of their sales," Azriel scoffed out. "Eris didn't limit who could participate this year. He told me a lot of local lesser fae farmers are coming and selling excess crop from the growing season that just concluded- I think he might've gone a bit overboard with how many he's permitted though."

Mor nodded silently, smirking in amusement at him.

Realizing how much he'd just prattled on about Eris and his booths, Azriel felt his face heat up.

He focused his attention of the pottery in front of him, suddenly very interested in inspecting the intricacy of the handiwork.

Azriel pointedly avoided Nesta's stare that was burning a hole through his head. He had easily just proved wrong his statement earlier about how close him and the High Lord had become.

"So...is that where Eris lives?" Nesta's attention had shifted away from him and she was turned around, pointing to the Forest House in the distance. It's oppressive size seemed to have stunned her. Azriel knew from experience that it took around three hours to get from one side to the other, having done the entire walk with Eris a few months ago.

Azriel shook his head, refusing to foolishly prattle on again and reveal precisely how entrenched in Eris's life he really was.

"From what Azriel's told me, he now lives in the High Lord's manor. It has sat vacant since his grandfather. I think it's somewhere on the other side of the Forest House," Mor fills in for him. "Though from the crowd that's gathered around the south entrance, I'm assuming Eris is likely over there now."

Indeed, there was a massive congregation of people milling around the wide, stone stairs that led up to the grand south entrance of the Forest House. The massive wooden doors at the top landing were thrown open. Though due to the row of guards flanking the stairs and entryway doors, Azriel couldn't make out if Eris was up there.

It hit him then.

The hundreds of fae gathered around the steps, the thousands more that wandered through the festival, the countless guards and sentries patrolling the area- they were all here for Eris. Eris Vanserra, the bane of Azriel's immortal existence, the High Lord of Autumn. Eris was a High Lord now; no longer a pestering lordling with dreams brighter than his own damn hair.

Azriel knew this, of course, had been working one-on-one with Eris for months to help ease the transition into his new role. But being here, it all felt more real.

The Eris he played chess with last week in the study of his manor home while they drank out of a shared bottle of wine was the same High Lord who now ruled the court he stood in and drew the crowd of thousands surrounding him. The same High Lord who seemed to already have the admiration and respect of many, given the throng waiting to greet him.

The crowd awaiting Eris seemed to be largely comprised of females, no doubt hoping to be the lucky maiden selected to help him complete the Great Rite that began after sundown.

Azriel's shadows thrashed around him at the thought.

"Well, let's go get the greetings over with. One of Eris's weasly guards probably already informed him of our arrival," Mor said bluntly, stepping away from the table of pottery.

Azriel steeled himself with a breath and dropped into step next to her as the four of them weaved their way through the festival-goers and headed for the south entrance steps.

He was thankful for the push of the crowd that slowed their journey down.

A wave of anxiety flooded through Azriel, causing his stomach to clench. His lungs wouldn't expand to take a full breath and it was making his surroundings spin. He felt like he was standing on the precipice of a battle that he was guaranteed to lose.

Why was he nervous?

Azriel willed his centuries of training to take over and took a deep breath to release the tension that seized him.

He pulled at the high-neck collar of his jacket, hoping to loosen it. It felt like a leash growing tighter with every step he took towards the Forest House.

Eris was going to mock the jacket, he was sure of it. He was going to call Azriel 'a want-to-be Autumn aristocrat fool', he never should have let Mor dress him in this.

He just hated seeing Eris. Hated the male's all-knowing gaze that could tear through Azriel's defenses without a thought. Mor, Cassian, and Nesta were going to see it. They were going to see the way Eris could pick him apart and expose a layer of Azriel he never showed. They were going to witness first-hand just how much the Autumn High Lord affected him.

As they reached the rear of the crowd huddled around the bottom of the staircase, Azriel's eyes darted around the top trying to spot the High Lord.

He couldn't see him. Where was he? Was something wrong?

And as much as he was dreading speaking to the male, his absence made Azriel's stomach drop even further.

His mind whirled with unexplainable anxiety.

He needed the Cauldron-damned crowd to get out of his way so he could get up there and see if something was wrong.

Fae tended to retreat willingly away from Azriel. His oppressive height, writhing shadows, and intimidating wingspan conveyed what he usually didn't need words for. It seemed the prospect of catching sight of the new Autumn High Lord distracted the fae in front of him enough that none marked his presence behind them.

"Move," Azriel's deep, menacing voice broke through the thrum of sound. He felt no inclination to add pleasantries to his request.

As the fae closest heard him, they turned to look at the source of the sound and scrambled back at the sight of him.

With ease, Azriel marched through the pathway that opened for him and led Mor, Nesta, and Cassian to the stairs.

Five flights made up the grand entrance and by the second landing Azriel still couldn't catch sight of Eris.

Desperation quickened his pace.

At last he reached the third landing, coming into view of the palatial wooden doors of the Forest House thrown open at the top. And there he was.

Eris.

A full breath of air whooshed into Azriel's lungs as he finally gazed upon the High Lord.

Eris's beauty was undeniable. It was almost laughable the way he made everyone around him look simple. A God stood amongst fae-kind.

In the afternoon sun, Eris's hair glowed like living flames; the ends of those fiery locks pushed back behind his pointed ears. Those very ears were adorned with a handful of small golden hoops in the upper cartilage, drawing Azriel's eye to trace along their curve.

His beautiful, wicked face was twisted into a wry grin in reaction to whomever he was speaking to. Azriel couldn't tear his eyes away from the High Lord to check. With his unmarred porcelain skin, Eris appeared to have been carved from marble.

Azriel's eyes continued their journey down the slope of Eris's neck, taking his time to trace its length. He was surprised Eris couldn't feel his gaze burning into him.

The male wore a billowing white silk shirt whose neck hung open to reveal a hint of the muscled chest that lay underneath. He wondered what more lay unexposed. The shirt was tucked into a pair of dark, well-tailored pants- very well-tailored pants.

On top of his ensemble, Eris donned a cloak whose hemmed reached to the bottom of his boots. The garment was a rich, velvety maroon, with gold details running down the sides of the opening.

Perfectly put together as always. Eris was skilled at wielding clothes like a weapon, he always knew how to arm himself properly for the occasion. And today he looked so damn regal and powerful, commanding the attention of everyone around him.

As if finally registering the weight of his observation, Eris turned and caught sight of Azriel and the others.

A wide smile broke across Eris's face.

Azriel's head whipped around to look behind himself. Who the hell was Eris smiling at? Mor? Nesta? Had someone else followed them up the stairs?

Cassian and the two females had come to a stop behind Azriel, no longer ascending the stairs.

When had he stopped walking?

Azriel looked back and the smile that had cut across Eris's face was gone. The male was now biting his lower lip, keeping it still.

Cassian gave him a push from behind before sliding around Azriel to take the lead with Nesta.

"Let's go you fool," his brother said to him gruffly.

The shove and command from his brother broke Azriel out of his reverie. It must be the magic of Mabon that entranced Azriel when he was regarding Eris. The magic flows most acutely through the High Lord after all. Azriel had become as spell bound as the hoard of fae below him.

Azriel resumed his climb, drawing nearer and nearer to Eris.

As Cassian reached the final landing ahead of him and approached Eris, Azriel heard the High Lord say in greeting, "Well, if it isn't my favorite court. Behind the four others. I'll be generous and put Tamlin at the bottom of my ranking."

Still an asshole. A beautiful asshole.

"You're look very pretty today. I like what that jacket does for your eyes." Azriel chuckled at his brother's words. Cassian had learned well how to get under Eris's skin.

Eris sneered at him, not responding, before turning his gaze to Nesta. His expression lightened as he looked to her. "Nesta, you do yourself no favors with the company you keep."

To Azriel's surprise, Cassian chuckled good-naturedly at the High Lord's remark.

"It's lovely to see you again, Eris." replied Nesta, politely. "I think you might be right. I find myself occasionally regretting my refusal of your proposal."

Eris nodded his head in the mockery of a bow before replying sarcastically, "At your earliest convenience Lady Archeron, I will eagerly make you my bride." His eyes glittered with derision.

Nesta chuckled, curtseying before Eris, before grabbing Cassian's hand and pulling him out of the way.

Eris shifted his attention to Mor. "Morrigan, I must say I did not anticipate your appearance today."

"Eris," Mor nodded in greeting. "It's been a while since my last visit."

Visit is not how Azriel would categorize it.

She continued, "I wanted to reacquaint myself with the court and I heard," her eyes shot to Azriel, "that this event was not to be missed."

Azriel's face twisted. He said no such thing.

"Hmm," Eris hummed as his gaze quickly darted to Azriel, "Well I'm happy you could attend. I hope everything is up to your standards."

Perfectly cordial, the two of them. They had come such a long way.

Mor gave no reply before bowing out of the way.

She turned to Azriel, squeezed his arm and said quietly, "We'll wait for you at the bottom of the steps."

Why? He didn't voice the question aloud.

He turned to face Eris who was glaring pointedly at the spot on Azriel's arm that Mor just touched.

Azriel stood in silence, waiting. After a moment, Eris's stare rose to his.

"Azriel."

"Eris."

More silence.

Eris's gaze darted down Azriel's frame, taking him in.

With surprise lacing his tone, the High Lord said, "Your jacket... I like it."

Azriel's brows shot up his face.

"The color. It suits you. I don't think I've ever seen you in something other than black. I appreciate that you made an effort with my court's style," Eris added on. Genuine sincerity shone in his face.

Azriel merely nodded in thanks.

A slight weight lifted off of Azriel's chest at the High Lord's words. Why did he give a damn what Eris thought about his clothing? It was humiliating. Why did he have this irritating need to impress him, to get his approval?

Azriel wanted to run away from the knowing glint in Eris's eye, the ghost of the smirk that danced on his lips, like he knew exactly the effect his comments would have on Azriel.

Planning to do just that, Azriel spun on his heels angling to catch up with the rest of his companions who already reached the bottom of the staircase.

"Wait." Eris's voice stopped Azriel in his descent.

The Illyrian turned to look up at the High Lord who now descended the few steps Azriel was able to make.

Eris came to a stop on the same stair as Azriel. They were eye level. How had Azriel never realized the two of them were the same height? Perhaps it was due to Eris's new commanding presence, it was now impossible not to be aware of every detail about the High Lord. Azriel tried desperately to tamp down the flush in his cheeks.

Eris continued on, cool confidence lacing his tone, "I'm heading out to tour the vendors, would you join me?"

A lifetime of stoicism is the only thing that kept Azriel from reacting visibly.

There was a crowd of people waiting to meet the High Lord. More dignitaries were set to arrive, surely Eris had to wait to greet them.

But Eris was looking at him with such an earnest expression that Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care about what duties of his might take precedence.

"Is that... a request or a command, High Lord?" Azriel responded after a moment, keeping his features neutral.

Eris's eyes narrowed slightly.

"A command. I don't want you off on your own scaring away all my visitors"

Laughter broke from Azriel's mouth before he could catch it.

The corner of Eris's mouth quirked up in satisfaction.

That wouldn't do.

"No, thank you." That should humble the High Lord. Azriel took off down the flight of steps at a much quicker pace this time.

Silence. And then, "No?!" Eris called after him.

The smack of boots against stone rang out as Azriel heard Eris follow him.

Azriel made it down two flights, nearly halfway to the bottom, before Eris caught up. He could see Mor, Cassian, and Nesta looking up at them from below.

Eris grabbed his arm. His cheeks were flushed and eyes a bit wild as he demanded, "You really won't come with me?"

His arm tingled under the hand grasping it.

"Ask nicely."

Eris huffed out an exasperated laugh.

"-Azriel!" That was Mor's voice this time from two flights below.

He could see Eris's face bunch up in frustration. The grip on his forearm tightened infinitesimally.

She called up at him, "I promised Emerie I'd get her something so I'm going to go look around. Alright?"

Azriel nodded in understanding. It was then that he realized Nesta and Cassian had already peeled away and were reentering the thick bustle of the festival.

At his assent, Mor followed after them.

His attention returned to Eris.

"Azriel. Would you please join me?"

He was quiet for a moment, before, "Yes... what about them?" He nodded at the throng waiting for Eris.

The hand on him gripped hard and then Eris was winnowing them in a spark of heat and light.

..........................

They reappeared on the outskirts of the Forest House's northern side. A few hours walk from their last location.

The festival stands and crowds were sparser here. But in a small field of grass close to the northern entrance of the estate, a group of children were playing. Squeals of delight rang in Azriel's ear as the children ran around, tossing a ball between themselves. His shadows jumped at the shrill noises, darting out as if they'd investigate.

A pleasant, carefree atmosphere hung in the air.

"It's so... different here now," Azriel said carefully.

So different from Beron.

Eris hummed quietly in confirmation at Azriel's words. He wistfully watched the children play. "Rhysand once advised me that change is slow in our world and to prepare myself accordingly. I've personally found that it's only slow if you don't care to try hard enough."

Azriel's eyes narrowed at the slight jab to his brother.

Eris pulled his attention from the children and dropped his hand from where it still wrapped around Azriel's forearm. Azriel hadn't registered it was there but the cold it's absence left in its wake sent a shudder down his spine.

Leaves crunched under the heels of their boots as the pair walked leisurely into the festival.

"You think you care more than Rhys? Care more about your court?" The comment rubbed Azriel the wrong way, he couldn't let it go.

"I think Rhysand cares an awful lot about Velaris. I know he sacrificed greatly to keep them safe from Amarantha. But a High Lord's duty is to the well-being of everyone in his court, not just those he favors."

Azriel stopped in his tracks. "Don't speak about it as if you have any idea."

"Don't I?" Eris said, stopping with him. His brow quirked up on his face. "Aren't I one of the few that can now judge him?"

"You know nothing of the Night Court. Since when were you an advocate for the rights of Illyrians?"

"It's not the Illyrians about which I'm concerned."

Azriel's mouth dropped slightly, "The Court of Nightmares? You can't be serious. Keir has gotten to you."

Eris whooshed out a frustrated breath. "Keir is a pest. But he's not the only one that lives there. You forget that I have experience at Hewn City, not only now, but from before."

Rhys had snuck Cassian and Azriel into Hewn City earlier that morning. It was the first time Azriel had been anywhere but the steppes of Illyria.

His shadows writhed over his wings, something in the bowels of the mountain called to them.

The three of them stood a few hundred paces from the entrance to the Court of Nightmare's receiving hall.

She was in there. Mor.

She was in there with Keir getting introduced to her new captors, the Vanserras.

It was the reason for Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel's visit today. Mor would never admit it, that beautiful, proud female, but Azriel knew she was terrified for the encounter. He had practically begged on his knees for Rhys to take them there so they could keep an eye on her.

The grand obsidian doors that kept Mor from view creaked open suddenly, startlingly the three males.

They stood straight, imbuing confidence into their features. Despite being barely of age, the three of them refused to cower under the presence of Keir and the Autum High Lord.

Beron Vanserra exited first, Keir keeping at heels like an overexcited dog. Pathetic.

A few paces behind was Mor, eyes blazing as she kept her stare straight forward. And there he was.

Eris.

His cruel, cold beauty matched his reputation.

The second Azriel laid eyes on him, he felt a searing hatred for the male tear through his chest.

Azriel had hated before; hated his father, his half-brothers, the camp lords that shunned him. That hatred had been iced-cold, settling inside him like a stone. It followed him everywhere and pushed him to work harder, fight harder.

What he felt now, staring at the Autumn male before him, was a passion so bright it ached deep inside him. It set his blood on fire.

As if sensing Azriel's glare, the princeling's eyes slid over to him. Eris's mouth parted slightly, eyes widening, as he looked at him. The shadows often taken people by surprise.

Azriel sneered at him before tearing his eyes away to look at Mor. As she passed Azriel, she gave him a reassuring nod. She was alright.

He shot her a gentle smile in return.

He kept his attention on her as she walked away but had the odd sensation of another stare burning into him.

"I don't think you went there more than once," Azriel scoffed.

"I was enough."

"Enough for what?" Azriel grew exasperated.

"Enough to see that Mor was not the only young female desperate to escape that prison. She was just the only one that had a lifeline out of there. Rhysand condemns everyone in there for the crimes of their ancestors. For the crimes of Keir and his ilk. I know monsters lurk in every shadow corner of that gods-forsaken place but it's Rhysand's responsibility to not abandon those that need help. Who want something better."

That immediately shut Azriel up. He looked to Eris's face and saw a passionate fury on it, saw a look of someone who related intimately to about that which they spoke.

"Perhaps you're right." Damning words from Azriel's mouth. But today was not the day to delve into it, to process just how much a part Azriel played in keeping those people trapped within the confines of the Court of Nightmares.

A slight burst of guilt churned his stomach.

Eris observed him with an understanding he didn't deserve.

"Anyway," Eris shifted the topic onwards, "I am hungry." He made a show of looking around the booths around them as they walked. "What interests you?"

Azriel shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever doesn't have a line."

"Why would I want the food that doesn't have a line. Don't you think that would suggest it's not worth eating."

Azriel rolled his eyes and said, "Nothing can be that bad. Food is food."

"Very well. But if it is bad you still need to eat it all." Eris said and took off towards a food stand that stood patron-less.

As the two of them approached, the man standing behind the stand's counter eye's widened. A High Lord and an Illyrian shadowsinger marching towards you was likely an intimidating sight.

A basin of cooking oil bubbled away behind the stall, lit by a large fire kindled underneath. On a small table next to it two trays were filled; one with a rough flour mixture and one with beaten, uncooked eggs. A container full of wooden skewers sat next to it. On the ground, off to the side was an ice-box whose lid was firmly shut.

"My lord!" The stall's operator rose from his stool and gave Eris a sweeping bow.

He then merely jerked his head at Azriel, saying nothing. A look of contempt flashed across Eris's face at that.

Eris shook the look off his face and smiled stiltedly in greeting to the vendor. "We are looking for food, sir. What are you making here today?"

"Amazing," the vendor exclaimed, "I am the premier maker of fried Autumn frogs!"

Azriel watched Eris's brows shoot up his forehead.

That explained the lack of line.

Now that Azriel looked, he saw a crudely painted wooden sign depicting a frog skewered onto a stick. He should've been paying better attention on their approach.

"Wonderful." Even centuries of courtier skills couldn't stop the trepidation from slipping into Eris's voice.

"We-," Eris darted his eyes over to Azriel and he could see a dark humor glittering on the High Lord's face, "We will take three, please, one for me and two for my friend. He's very hungry."

Azriel stomped on the male's foot as soon as the vendor turned to start preparing their order.

"Food is food," the High Lord whispered at him, wincing in pain at his foot.

"I'm not even hungry," the Illyrian hissed back.

"Too bad, you are now." The High Lord chuckled at his own antics.

They stood there waiting for their food. Azriel scowled as he watched the frogs get dipped in the batter and then dunked into bubbling oil.

He was deeply regretting his earlier statement.

Eris slid a few silver marks onto the stall's table as Azriel grabbed two of the skewers from the vendor. He'd let Eris grab his own.

The pair strolled away, eyeing the food in their hands.

Azriel gulped before braving a small bite from the fried meat. He swallowed roughly.

"So?" Eris questioned.

Azriel contemplated for a moment before replying, "It's... not that bad." He went in for a second bite.

Following his approval, Eris raised his own skewer to his mouth and took a sizable bite.

The High Lord's face dropped at the taste that met him. His stare burned through Azriel with fury as he slowly chewed and swallowed the large bite that was in his mouth.

Azriel threw his head back roaring with laughter.

Eris chucked the food into a nearby trash bin, "That. was. disgusting," he seethed. "Why did you say it was good."

"You deserved it you ass." Azriel threw his skewers into the bin as well.

"It was sour!?"

Azriel continued to laugh.

Eris's eyes softened imperceptibly as he looked down at Azriel's smile. It sent a jolt through Azriel's system.

The two of them wandered on, appetite gone.

They stopped at many stalls along their walk. Eris thumbed through heavy, fur garments on display from a Winter Court seamstress. Azriel weighed and handled Raskian throwing knives brought from a merchant on the continent. The pair chuckled at a table that displayed men's silk undershorts, saying they were going to send a collection to Helion. Eris grimaced when Azriel reminded him his mother would be on the receiving end of the silk shorts, the male's amusement dissipated immediately. Azriel had to drag Eris away from buying a dozen handmade leather collars for his hounds. Eris did end up buying a thin silver chain bracelet from a local Autumn crasftwoman. It was made from a metal found only in this court, Eris told him, and the metal is the only known deterrent to the fire magic the flowed through the blood of Autumn court fae.

"It's incredibly hard to find, near impossible to forge into something wearable, and gods-damned expensive as a result. I can't explain to you how it works, just that it'll lessen the effect of fire magic on the wearer. The Mother balances all things she creates."

Eris pivoted towards him and in the blink of an eye clipped the bracelet around Azriel's own wrist. It sat right below where the scars on his hand faded into unmarred skin.

Azriel gaped at the High Lord.

"Well it's not like I need it," Eris said in response to his expression. "I am the Lord of fire. It's not exactly going to hurt me."

Fluttering ignited within Azriel's chest, it tickled along his ribs.

"Will it protect me from you?" He meant the question to sound coy but it came across strained.

Flames flickered in Eris's irises as he said, "Nothing could stop me from reaching you, Azriel."

Azriel's heart ponded painfully within him. "Your fire, you mean?"

"Yes, my fire." The flames in his eyes shuttered and he took a step away.

They strolled on.

It was impossible to miss the way passersby looked at Eris. Hunger. Longing.

It reminded Azriel that nightfall was rapidly approaching, only two hours away. The notion saddened him.

"How does tonight work. For you?" questioned Azriel, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

Eris smirked in amusement at him, "When two people are attracted to one another, Azriel, they do something called-"

"You ass," he growled, cutting Eris off, "What's the ritual? I know Calanmai has a cave, Summer a beach cove, Winter... I don't know- a glacier? What's the landmark of choice for Autumn."

"A tree."

"A tree?"

"Yes. A tree. Don't give me that look, I didn't pick it. There's a large oak tree at the center of Autumn, I'm told it's been there since the court's creation. It's said to be the center, the beating heart, of all magic here. A load of nonsense but it's tradition at this point. I've seen it a few times. It's this massive thing, so large that a hundred people wouldn't be enough to line its entire perimeter. According to my father, it's hollow inside. I'm not sure how that works out. There's ancient wards around the oak that only allow the High Lord to approach or winnow inside the tree. And that- that is where the magic happens." Literally and figuratively.

"A magic sex tree?" Azriel said crudely.

"It's no worse than a magic sex cave. Certainly better than a glacier. Or snow bank. We should really find out what it is in Winter."

"Well I feel bad for whatever poor female gets chosen for you tonight. She has your company and a floor of dirt to look forward to." Bitterness laced Azriel's words and he hoped it sounded like contempt for the High Lord.

"Don't sound too jealous now, Azriel." The fire was back raging in the High Lord's eyes, "After all, no one said it had to be a female."

Azriel couldn't help it as his attention dropped down to Eris's full lips at the words. Dropped to look at the High Lord's muscled body hidden beneath his clothing. Azriel wondered what his skin tasted like, if it was sweet and woodsy like the cinnamon and sandalwood that wafted on his scent.

"Unfortunately," Azriel choked out, "I will not be here to see the lucky chosen person. Female or male."

"What?" Eris sounded frantic.

"I'm not staying. Mor and I are leaving before nightfall. Nesta and Cassian are the only ones remaining."

Eris stared at him, eyes wide, searching Azriel's face. "Are you serious? You're leaving? Why did you come?"

"You invited us. Mor was adamant on coming and I didn't want her to come alone, Nesta and Cassian aren't much for company." It was a lie, one that Azriel spouted again.

"Then where is your precious Morrigan?" Eris made a show of looking around them.

"I'm here if she needs me."

"You really came here only for her?" Devastation etched across Eris's face. Azriel refused to read into the expression but his shadows were jumping around him, slithering out as if they wanted to wipe that look off the High Lord's face.

"Why do you care anyway? What's it to you if I stay and find some stranger to fuck in the woods and add a little magic to your Great Rite. It doesn't interest me." The words were a barrier to hide the war raging inside Azriel; to hide the feelings ripping away inside of him desperate to get out.

Eris looked away from him and stared up into the vibrant canopy of leaves above them. The setting sun shone down through the branches, making his fair skin glow. He seemed to be counting every leaf on the oak that towered over them. As Eris got lost in the scenery above them, Azriel took a moment to map out every detail of his face.

Eventually Eris said, voice controlled, "You're right, I don't care. I'll be preoccupied with someone else anyway."

Eris glared at him, staring deep into his soul, as if he could see the animal that went wild inside of Azriel at his words.

They walked for an hour longer, finally approaching the south entrance again. Their conversation was noticeably more stilted.

The disgust from the fried frogs had abated but Azriel found he was no longer hungry for an entirely different reason.

The sun was cresting the horizon. Soon it would set completely and the Great Rite would begin. He could feel the magic thrumming in the air, ready to break free from the confines restricting it.

He looked at Eris next to him. The High Lord looked agitated, twitchy. The magic must be beating away at him as the Rite's beginning drew nearer.

Now that he had his gaze on him, Azriel couldn't look away. There was a magnet inside of him drawing him closer as if its match was inside the High Lord. He understood now why people went mad during Great Rites, this heady sensation made him want to disregard all expectations and let loose. Azriel wanted to lean in and taste the sweat beading up on Eris's skin.

Unknowingly, Azriel had taken a few steps closer to Eris who darted his attention over to him. He wanted to keep those amber eyes on him- didn't want anyone else to come in between them. He wanted to feel Eris's burning palms running along the skin under his jacket. Wanted to feel those lips against his neck, sucking marks for everyone to see.

Azriel needed him. He couldn't let anyone else have him- not tonight.

He was going to tell him as such, "I-"

"Azriel!"

The call from Mor broke through the haze Azriel was lost in.

"What? Azriel, what?" Eris grabbed him by his jacket bringing his attention towards the High Lord again.

Azriel wanted to step into the fire inside of Eris's eyes and burn.

"Azriel" Mor's hand clamped down on his shoulder as she said his name a second time.

He turned to look at her.

"It's nearly nightfall, we should go. I'm feeling pretty drained, do you think you can winnow both of us back? I don't think I can make it the entire way?" she looked up at him expectantly.

He needed to go. He couldn't leave her here alone. He looked back at Eris.

The High Lord looked like he was seconds from dropping to his knees to beg Azriel to stay. The hand holding his jacket twisted tighter.

"What were you going to say, Azriel?" Eris sounded manic.

"I need to go, Eris"

"Yes. Okay." He looked crestfallen. His hand still gripped Azriel's jacket.

"You need to let go."

The High Lord actually shook his head no in response to that.

"Of the jacket. You need to let go of my jacket." Azriel felt like his heart was ripping out of his chest. Desire was swallowing him whole.

He at last dropped his hand away.

Azriel spun on his heels, grabbed Mor, and winnowed away without glancing back.

.…........................

Azriel bid Mor goodnight in the dimly lit foyer of the River House and dazedly made his way up to his room on the second floor of the home. Dropping onto the foot of his bed, he propped his elbows on his knees, stuffed the heels of his hands into his eyes and pressed so hard that a constellation of lights popped into his vision.

He needed to get up. He needed to fly. He needed to lay down. He needed to get drunk. He needed to go to sleep. He needed to scream until there was nothing left in him. He needed to curl up and cry.

There was an animal inside of him clawing to get out, ripping at his chest so hard he swore he could feel it tearing underneath his ribs.

What was wrong with him?

After a few minutes there was a knock on his door and Azriel jolted up from the hunched position he'd been in.

Peering in through the cracked doorway was Mor. When she met his gaze, she gently swung the door open the rest of the way. It was silent for a moment as she looked over him as he remained sitting on the foot of the bed.

"You should go back", Mor whispered delicately into the depth of the room.

Azriel's brows furrowed. He just stared at her, tried to read her expression. There was nothing but quiet contemplation on her beautiful face.

"You should go back", she repeated, simply. Mor's assessing gaze tore into him. He could feel the truth she wielded cutting through him as they looked at one another.

Azriel said nothing. Couldn't choke out the words and only shook his head.

Mor at last entered the room fully and crossed over to where he remained sitting.

She gently grasped his face between both of her hands and angled him up to look at her. Her fingers were delicate and soft against his skin as her thumbs stroked short arcs soothingly against his cheeks. There was a time that he would've killed for a touch like this from her.

Now all Azriel could think about is what the same touch would feel like under wider, stronger, warmer palms. If there were fiery amber eyes looking back at him instead of warm brown ones.

His eyes pricked at the thought and he attempted to duck out of Mor's grip, cowering at the weight of everything he felt.

"You're the one who asked me to leave with you. Why should I go back," he asked her, staring at the tile underneath her shoes.

"I wanted you to have a few moments alone, away from the Rite's magic so you could clear your head and think without it influencing you."

His shook his head again, "I don't want to go back."

"Yes you do. You know you do."

"I don't want to want to go back." He looked back up at her.

"You don't need to be afraid of it anymore, Azriel. We love you, every part of you. No matter what you choose." This was the Morrigan of Truth who spoke to him now. The fae who saw every facet of the world around her with uncharacteristic clarity.

She didn't elaborate before heading back out of Azriel's room and down the hall. She left his door open.

Azriel sat there. He counted to a hundred before standing up and hurtling out the door and down the stairs. He rushed out into the front courtyard, made his way to the ward boundaries and winnowed away in a swirl of shadows.

.…........................

The hum of a crowd didn't meet him this time as his feet touched down in the Autumn court for the second time that day. The buzzing of insects and the rustling of wind blowing through leaves were the only sounds that kept him company.

He didn't recognize the land where his pesky shadows deposited him. He intended to go back to the same spot he originally left.

He felt, more than he heard, someone winnow into existence behind him.

Azriel drew his blade and spun around, expecting to find an attacker awaiting him.

It was Eris.

His hand holding the knife went limp and dropped down in shock.

"How did you find me so quickly?" he asked.

"I could find you anywhere you go, Azriel."

His name was butter in the High Lord's mouth. He wanted to grab Eris and taste the tongue that said his name like that.

"You came back." Eris's pupils were blown wide as he looked Azriel up and down. He'd become a creature of the Rite, the power making him more monster than male.

Azriel's blood rushed in his ears in response.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I need to hear you say it." The male clawed back control to ask that question. To hear Azriel give his consent.

Azriel let him stew in silence, driving Eris mad. He was nervous to let the words out of his mouth.

Growing impatient, Eris said, "Azriel."

"I want you... Eris. I want this. I want you."

With a groan at his words, Eris rushed to Azriel and slammed his lips into his.

The first press of Eris's lips against his own was like a lightning strike. It made Azriel's skin burst to life with the power of it.

Azriel slid his hands into the silky red strands of the male and held him close. He angled the male's head to the side to deepen the glide of their lips along one another.

Eris's hands, which had gripped his waist, moved down underneath Azriel's jacket to brush along the skin of his lower back. His hands burned a path along Azriel's skin, just how he imagined they would. At the sensation, Azriel let out a small groan.

Eris used the opportunity to slide his tongue into Azriel's mouth. His tongue stroked along Azriel's own, sending a shiver of desire down his spine.

The taste of Eris was better than he ever expected; it made him feel high. He barely drew a breath, not wanting to part from Eris's mouth for more than a second. His taste was more gratifying than air.

Azriel pressed his front into Eris until they were fully flush, his hardness pressing into the other male's own.

"Azriel, fuck," Eris backed away for a moment to murmur on his lips. "I need- I need-," he didn't finish that thought before leaning in to give more sucking kisses to Azriel's bottom lip.

A broken groan escaped Azriel as the High Lord bit down on his lower lip, his cock growing harder in his pants.

Eris pulled off him again and grabbed Azriel's face between his hands to keep him still. That didn't stop Azriel from chasing his lips for more.

"Have you been with a male before?" Eris asked him.

"I'm 545 years old, Eris, of course I've fucked males."

Eris growled at the statement, eyes blazing. He grabbed Azriel's ass and dragged him back in for a few moments.

Panting to catch his breath, Eris said, "That's not what I mean." He squeezed his ass for emphasis.

Oh.

No, he hadn't. Not that it didn't appeal to him but he could never give someone control of him like that. But looking at Eris, into the face of the male he'd grown to know so well the past year, Azriel didn't feel the same trepidation that tended to hold him back. Azriel realized that he actually trusted Eris. He wondered when that happened.

"I want to." With you, only with you. He hoped his eyes conveyed the truth he wouldn't speak.

Eris leaned in and gave Azriel a gentle kiss before winnowing them away.

They reappeared inside the hollow of a massive tree. It must've been the oak Eris spoke about before.

It smelled mossy and the air was damp inside the trunk. As Azriel predicated, only dirt lined the floor.

Eris conjured a couple faelights that rose above them and sent a gentle glow cascading down upon the pair.

There was a beat thrumming in the air. It pounded so loud through Azriel that he felt his heart skip to match its beat. The sound made his head swim with a heady sensation.

He saw Eris in front of him similarly affected.

His gaze dropped to see tenting at the front of Eris's pants. His wings twitched with the arousal that flooded him in response. He needed him. Now.

Always knowing what was on Azriel's mind, Eris hooked a finger through one of Azriel's belt loops and dragged him back toward him.

Instead of his mouth, this time Eris ran his lips down Azriel's throat. They were delicate kisses that sent goosebumps over Azriel's arm. The male seemed to be savoring the pounding of Azriel's pulse beneath him. When he reached the soft hollow between his neck and shoulder, Eris sucked hard.

Azriel's knees buckled beneath him. Only Eris's strong arms supporting him kept Azriel up as the High Lord laid claim to the sensitive spot.

Azriel shoved at the coat draped around Eris's shoulders. The maroon garment thudded to the dirt floor with success.

Once that was gone, Azriel slid his hands under Eris's silk white shirt and traced along his back and chest. Though Eris was leaner than him, shapely muscle lay underneath his clothes. He had been general of Autumn for close to five centuries, the training required for that now showed in the strong chest and abdomen that Azriel's fingers ghosted down.

Eris moved on to sucking a matching mark on the other side of his neck. Azriel's head fell to the side as he let out a low, deep whine at the sensation.

"You taste so good," the High Lord whispered into his skin.

Azriel rolled his hips against Eris's in a desperate search for friction. Eris snapped his fingers and the entirety of both the males' clothes disappeared.

A wobbling sound left his mouth as he took in the sight of the naked male against him. Eris's muscled, pale chest and long lean legs made his mouth water. He wanted to taste every inch of him. He pushed Eris to the ground and did just that.

Azriel nipped and sucked down the male's chest, leaving marks and savoring the taste of his skin. He paused when he reached Eris's cock. Where Azriel was long, Eris was thick.

He bent down aiming to take him in his mouth when he was stopped.

"No." Eris's chest was heaving. "I can't- don't want to finish yet. If you take me in your mouth, this'll be over far too quick."

Azriel smirked, leaning down to lick a long stripe up the underside of him anyway before leaning back on his knees.

Eris followed him up and pushed him down onto his back. The male settled between Azriel's legs and looked down at him.

"Is this okay for your wings?"

Azriel never let his wings get trapped like this. In his centuries of taking lovers, would only ever be on top. But the sight of Eris above him made his cock twitch and blood heat, and Azriel knew it was alright.

"It's fine."

Spurred on by his confirmation, Eris bent down and took Azriel in his mouth without preamble.

Azriel shouted a groan at the warm sensation of Eris's mouth around him. He worked Azriel slowly, tongue dragging along him. Eris was looking at him, watching his every reaction with blazing eyes.

After a minute, Azriel started to feel a tightening in his lower stomach. He was already so close.

Just then, Eris's hand that rested on his thigh, slid over to press into the area beneath Azriel's balls. Questioning eyes looked to him and Azriel nodded his approval.

A bottle of oil appeared out of thin air into Eris's other hand and Azriel felt a zap of cleaning magic rush through him. Convenient.

Eris pulled away to pour oil onto the fingers of his right hand. After slicking them up, Eris grabbed one of Azriel's thighs and pushed it up out of the way. He then ducked down and took Azriel in his mouth again while gently pressing the tip of his pointer finger against Azriel's hole.

The Illyrian let out a choppy moan and the High Lord slowly pressed his entire, long finger into him. It was a weird sensation. Neither pleasant or unpleasant, just new. Eris's mouth continued to move up and down him, keeping the pleasure stable. After a few seconds Eris moved the finger within him, steadily withdrawing and pushing back in.

Azriel relaxed around the finger after a few moments and felt Eris's middle finger push in to join it. He hissed at the slight burning sensation that went with it. The High Lord shot him an apologetic look.

Both fingers pressed in all the way together and repeated the same cycle of moving slowly to loosen Azriel up. The only noises were the sounds of Eris's mouth on his cock, the slide of the fingers inside him, and the gentle moans coming from his mouth. As Azriel once again relaxed around the fingers, Eris pulled off him.

He gave Azriel a wicked smirk before curling his fingers up and brushing along a spot that he hadn't yet touched. Azriel's legs spasmed at the jolt of pleasure that shot through him.

"Gods, what was that." he moaned out.

"You must not have been pleasuring those male's very well if you don't know what that is, Azriel."

Eris started thrusting his two fingers harder inside of him, keeping steady pressure on the spot.

Azriel threw his head back, moaning loudly.

Eris pushed a third slicked finger in. The burning only heightened his pleasure this time.

Azriel drew his second leg up as Eris rammed his three fingers into him, no longer taking Azriel in his mouth. He didn't need it. The High Lord's fingers alone felt amazing.

Azriel's hole eased around the three fingers and was taking a fourth appendage in no time. He felt stretched so wide. The amount of fingers Eris had stuffed into him allowed him to brush roughly against that spot every time. Knees drawn up, Azriel's eyes rolled back into his head as he laid there getting fingered by the High Lord. His hands clenched at the ground above his head.

The drums of the Great Rite thrummed around them. The sound clanged in Azriel's ears. The closer he got to finishing, the louder they grew. They reached a deafening crescendo before Eris's movements came to a stop inside of him.

Azriel groaned out in protest. He was about to cum from Eris's fingers alone. His hips thrusted uselessly as he tried to get him moving again

Eris leaned down and sucked Azriel's lips into a kiss. "You're not cumming until you're on my cock, you big bat." He slipped his fingers out of Azriel.

Eris sat back and started slicking his cock up with oil.

"I want you to start off riding me," he said, "that way I know you're in control in the start. The magic is getting to me, I don't know how much longer I can keep it contained and I don't want to hurt you."

The sentiment thrummed in Azriel's chest.

He swung a leg over the male and settled up against his chest. Eris was sat up, a hand on the ground behind him to prop himself. The other was still stroking his cock.

Since the males were the same height standing, Azriel rose over him a bit while sitting in his lap. He leaned forward, unable to resist the temptation of kissing Eris.

When he pulled back, Eris was giving him a look that knocked the wind out of him. There was a well of desire and admiration in his eyes. No one had ever looked at Azriel with such raw longing before.

He felt Eris line himself up behind him. The head pressed against him and Azriel rocked his hips back slightly. He had to press hard to get the tip to pop in and when he did, he released a long whine at the burn.

Azriel gripped the High Lord's shoulders tightly. His features twisted at the discomfort and he stayed motionless for a while. With one hand still holding himself, Eris raised the other to rub along Azriel's lower back.

Eris tilted his chin up and recaptured Azriel's lips. It proved a welcome distraction and shortly Azriel was rocking his hips again, taking more of Eris's cock in him.

The hand Eris had on his lower back was gently pushing him down on every rock, increasing the pace at which Azriel took him. It was the only sign of desperation from the High Lord.

Once Eris was far enough inside him that he didn't need to guide his cock in anymore, his hand reached around Azriel's front to press a thumb against the skin between Azriel's balls and hole.

The jolt that shot through Azriel was similar to the one from the spot inside him. With a renewed desired, Azriel pushed down into the press of Eris's thumb. As his hips chased the pleasure of the pressure, Azriel was surprised to find himself meet the jut of Eris's hips below him. He had taken him to the hilt.

He leaned into Eris's neck and moaned loudly at the feeling of the male's cock fully enclosed within him.

"Fuck. So good Azriel. You're so good."

Azriel was stretched so wide on the base of Eris's thick cock. He felt the tip deep within his stomach.

In that moment, Azriel was completely owned by the High Lord.

He raised his hips up a few inches and dropped back down. Eris let out a rasping groan and tightened his arms around Azriel.

Azriel's shadows wrapped around the pair as he began to ride Eris in earnest. Eris's cock scrapped deliciously along that spot inside of him and Azriel rode him hard, addicted to the feeling.

His full, leaking cock bounced forgotten beneath their stomachs.

"You're riding me so good, Azriel. You feel fucking amazing." Eris groaned into his ear.

The praise made Azriel's skin flush. He wanted to erase every fae from Eris's memory. Make him forget anyone that wasn't him.

He bounced mindlessly on Eris's length. Content to stay like that, wringing the helpless moans from the male's mouth.

But the pressure on his thighs grew to be too much and Azriel still needed it harder. He couldn't ride Eris's cock hard or fast enough to get what he wanted.

"Eris," he moaned deeply. "More. I want more."

"Gods, Azriel. Anything. I'll give you anything you want."

"Fuck me, please."

Without pulling out, Eris flipped him onto his back, showing care for his wings. He hooked both of Azriel's legs over his arms and placed his hands onto the dirt floor in the gap between Azriel's waist and wings. He then started pounding so hard into Azriel that the Illyrian saw stars.

The feeling of the full length of Eris's thick cock pistoning in and out him rendered Azriel speechless. All he could do was grip Eris's back and moan into the air in the hollow of the tree.

The beat of the Great Rite's drums resumed, matching the rhythm at which Eris fucked in to him. The slap of their pelvises reverberated in the enclosed space.

Eris dropped his legs and lowered himself on to his forearms by Azriel's head. The shallower angle made him grind furiously against that spot along Azriel's walls. Eris nipped at his lower lip, panting into his mouth.

"You're so gods damn perfect Azriel."

Azriel moaned at the words.

The drums raced around them.

"So. fucking. beautiful." Each word from Eris was interrupted by a brutally deep thrust.

"I wish I could fuck you all night but I'm so close," the High Lord continued on.

Azriel nodded in agreement, wrapping his legs tight around Eris's hips. He didn't want the male pulling too far away from him, not now. He hole was squeezing sporadically around Eris's length.

"I-" Azriel couldn't get anything out, too busy moaning.

The drumming was reaching a crescendo again. It rocked against Azriel's skin.

"What is it." Eris brushed kisses along Azriel's jaw as he fucked him.

The beat around them was deafening.

"I feel so good, Eris-" Azriel groaned out the male's name.

It must've been from witnessing the delirium of Azriel's pleasure that he caused but at his words, Eris shouted out a long surprised groan. Azriel felt the male's cock twitching inside of him and his thrusts stuttered to quick, deep jabs. Heat bloomed within Azriel's stomach from the High Lord cumming.

At the sensation of the pulsing warmth of Eris's cum inside him, Azriel felt his own cock start to shoot. He grabbed himself moaning as his strokes heightened his finish.

As Azriel plummeted down into his orgasm, the drums of the Rite's magic pulsed through him. The beat matching the rhythm of his heart hammering inside him. Azriel's legs tightened around Eris as they both rose and fell through the waves of their pleasure, creating their own rhythm that sang with the magic of the night.

Fingers still dug tightly into the pale muscled back above him, Azriel's release came to an end. His legs dropped and relaxed to the ground as all his strength flooded away. He felt Eris's cock give one final kick inside him before he too finished and relaxed fully down onto Azriel's front.

The thrum of the magic in the air came to a stop, the sounds of the woods rushing in to fill the silence left by the drum's departure.

They laid there, Azriel wasn't sure how long, catching their breath. He closed his eyes, laid his head back, and enjoyed the warmth of Eris pressed against him.

The pressure on his wings soon became too much and he shifted, pushing slightly at Eris's hips.

With a groan, the male on top of him pushed up onto him arms, staring down between them as he pulled out. Azriel hissed at the sensation.

"M'sorry," Eris murmured, rubbing a hand down Azriel's thigh soothingly.

Eris Vanserra was rubbing his thigh.

Hundreds of fae showed up tonight with the hopes they'd be the lucky ones selected to sleep with the High Lord. And here Azriel was, in the middle of some historic magical tree, spend dripping out of him, getting his thigh rubbed by Cauldron-damned Eris Vanserra.

It was completely fucking surreal.

Azriel giggled. He didn't think he'd ever giggled in his life.

He felt drunk on the atmosphere. Maybe this was an after-effect of the magic's let-down; after the high of Rite abated you were left feeling delirious.

Eris took one look at him and started laughing too. They were definitely delirious.

Leaning his weight forward into his forearms again, Eris rested his forehead against Azriel's collarbone as laughter kept rocking his frame. Azriel buried his face in the silky red hair below him, chuckling into it.

With deep breaths, they both collected themselves.

Eris rose up onto his knees and glanced down between Azriel's legs.

"Fuck," Eris groaned, throwing his head back," You need to close your legs or I'm going to be ready for round two in a few seconds."

Azriel burst into laughter again, kicking Eris away from him.

"Gods," Eris moaned as he clambered to his feet. He reached a hand out for Azriel who took it and forced Eris to do most of the work pulling him up.

Azriel wrapped his arms around Eris's hips, the other male grabbing his bicep and throwing his second arm around Azriel's neck.

Silence weighed down on them as they stood facing each other. Eris's thumb left a path of heat in the arcs it swiped along Azriel's bicep. His other hand played in the short cropped hair at the base of Azriel's head.

With the high of the night seeping from his system and Eris's hands tracing warm paths along his skin, Azriel felt his eyes start to droop.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Eris whispered, lips only mere inches away from Azriel's own. Anything louder would've felt like a shout in the calm atmosphere around them.

Azriel nodded in assent, he wasn't sure any words would make it out of him.

He leaned forward capturing Eris's lips in a delicate kiss. They stayed like that, mouths moving slowly together, until Eris pulled again with one last nip to Azriel's lower lip.

"C'mon," he murmured, backing away from Azriel. With a snap of his fingers, Eris magicked both of their clothes back on.

Azriel walked up to press into Eris's front again and raised his hands to straighten the male's cloak which skewed haphazardly on his shoulders.

"Magic is not a precise science," Eris justified.

Mustering up the energy to speak, he replied, "You're such an ass."

Cackling, Eris winnowed them away in a crack of flames and light.

...........................................

The large rustic living room of Eris's manor was blessedly cool.

Warmth prickled along Azriel's skin, it felt like the sun was beaming down on him. He'd lived most of his life at a temperature that matched the night-time air on a crisp autumn night. This was a welcome change but an odd adjustment.

Azriel had a feeling the fire lord with him had something to do with it.

His eyes traced the wooden beams that led to the top of the room's vaulted ceilings as Eris moved around the kitchen in the distance.

Shuffling alerted Azriel to his entrance back into the living room.

He eagerly accepted the tall glass of water Eris handed to him and chugged it in one go, spilling a good portion of it down his chin.

"Brute"

Azriel glared at him through the glass.

"Didn't stop you from fucking me."

Eris's eyes darkened at the words, the right side of his face was lit up from the moonlight pouring in through the sizable windows that framed the woods outside. The High Lord only shrugged, grinning wildly.

His own grin grew in response. This was probably the most he'd smiled in one day. There was an ache in his cheeks from his overuse of the action; mindlessly he rubbed at the sore spots.

"Get used to it," Eris said.

Azriel didn't know if he meant the fucking or the smiling. Both would be fine, he figured.

They stumbled upstairs, giggling like a pair of drunk younglings every time Azriel's wings caught on the stairs. He was usually much better about keeping them raised but his body felt like it'd been sitting in the birchin for an hour- every muscle loose and tired.

Eris's bedroom was large and its foundation was laid by the same rich, dark wood that Azriel had loved in the kitchen. On the opposite side of the bedroom's entryway was a wall of windows and a glass door that led out to a partially enclosed terrace.

In the moonlight, Azriel vaguely deciphered a few plush couches and ottomans clustered together out there. They were enclosed by concrete columns that lined the terrace's perimeter. Enough space was between each column that, if Azriel wished, he could climb the railing and sail out over the autumnal canopy on his wings.

"You look like you're plotting your escape." Eris's sharp gaze tracked Azriel's own. He'd always been able to read him like book much to Azriel's chagrin.

"A good fighter always has an exit strategy."

A flash of sadness crossed Eris's expression at his words. There- and then gone- before Azriel could truly register it.

Reality began crashing in around him, settling a heavy weight on his chest.

To distract himself, he stepped onwards into the room and continued his assessment of the space. To the right was a massive fireplace framed by a large picture window on either side. Azriel saw the glow of faelights at the Forest House in the distance. There were two leather armchairs placed in front of the fireplace.

The left of the room held a palatial bed, wide enough to comfortably fit two winged fae if desired.

It was a wonderful space. If Azriel had ever desired to design his own, it likely would've looked a lot like this. It was nothing akin to Feyre and Rhy's palatial, overly ornate estate, or the soulless sandstone interiors of the House of Wind. Eris's room- his house- was warm and inviting, it beckoned Azriel in like a moth to a flame.

Eris, having followed Azriel into the room, continued on, "There are stairs up to the roof... if you wanted to know other escape options. It'd probably be easier to take off and land there."

Azriel turned to face the male behind him and asked, "Why do you have stairs to your roof?" Odd indeed for a male who could never and would ever be able to fly himself.

"Why not?" Eris wouldn't meet his eyes then.

But Azriel knew. Deep down he knew, had always known.

The roof. The two armchairs in front of the fire place. The dining chairs carved for wings. The male's burning gaze that was able to melt away centuries of ice that coated the outside of Azriel's soul.

He knew what it all meant, used to be terrified of it. Yesterday afternoon he feared it so much he could hardly breath.

He wasn't scared anymore.

And Eris knew too. Had likely known far longer than Azriel- he was always so clever.

Eris had probably figured it out forever ago and let it rot away inside of him. Trapped in his mind, tormenting him like the scars from his father that would never mar his skin.

"Centuries, Azriel," Eris muttered. It was as if the fire-blooded male in front of him, who still would not look at Azriel, could read every thought that ran through his mind. Could he?

Silence settled around them. Eris's attention focused on the dew fogged window next to them. He looked fixedly at the Forest House lights gleaming in the distance.

"I've wanted you- this- for centuries," Eris ground out. The truth, at last.

"I have known for centuries." Each word out of Eris's mouth sounded pained.

Azriel walked up to the male, reached out a scarred hand to gently grab his chin and turned his face towards him.

He traced every inch of Eris's face with his thumb. The strong jaw that framed everything. The sharp cut of the cupid's bow on his full lips. The long, straight bridge of his nose. The flushed cheeks that burned under Azriel's touch. The constellation of freckles that dotted his porcelain skin. The permanent crease between his brows, the only sign of mortality on his beautiful, immortal face.

He looked nothing like Azriel but looking upon him was like gazing into a mirror.

"All this time? Everything?" Azriel whispered. He couldn't find it in himself to elaborate, desperately hoped that Eris would once again understand what he meant.

"Everything. Always. It was always you." Eris's brows cut together, a look of sorrow and desperation overtaking the face under Azriel's thumb.

A small whimper escaped Azriel's lips but he clamped down on it.

The small sound must've been enough for Eris because it seemed a dam broke inside of him with the way his next words poured out.

"From the first moment I saw you at Hewn City, I knew Azriel. I could feel it so deep in my bones that it ached. But the engagement to Mor had already been finalized and I had no clue what to do. I knew you loved her, saw how you looked at her. I felt sick. My mate-"

Another whimper broke from Azriel's lips at the word. Eris spoke it with such finality and confidence.

At its utterance, a key clicked into place deep inside Azriel's chest and opened a truth that he had known all along.

"My mate," Eris continued "was in love with the female I was set to marry. Quickly, I grew to realize Mor's desperation for freedom, the truth about herself she kept hidden away. I couldn't help her. Azriel, you have to believe me. I tried. But, I had so little power to fix the situation. Leaving her there- in the woods, leaving her to her freedom, it was the best I could do. I thought she would understand. I thought you would underst-" Eris's voice cracked on the last word and he ducked his head down out of Azriel's hands to hide it from view.

Composing himself with a deep breath, Eris raised his head and continued on.

"I never imagined my actions would lead to you hating me for centuries. I thought I'd have a chance to explain. I thought you- Mor- Rhysand- anybody- I thought somebody would understand that if I helped her, she would have become a ward of my court. Trapped there. Keir knew; that's why he left her in my woods. Eventually I realized it was for the better- you hating me. I was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. I still had no power against my father and if he ever suspected, ever got a whiff, of what you were to me, he would have tried to kill you. He most certainly would have killed me. And it all would have been for nothing. I knew I did the right thing after he executed Jesminda. She was harmless, so innocent, a member of his own court, and he still killed her for the crime of being a lesser fae in love with my brother. It was then that I decided to never do anything but make you hate me. I wanted you as far away from me as possible. I could handle the torture my father inflicted upon me but the one thing I'd never be able to bare was him hurting you. Not you. Never you."

Eris's voice shook as silent tears cut across his cheeks. Azriel wondered how he could still be so beautiful while he cried.

"You were this precious thing that the Mother had blessed me with and the only thing that mattered to me was keeping you safe. And the only way I could do that was by keeping you far away from me and the reaches of Beron. Then everything with Amarantha happened. Forty-nine years under there and Azriel, you were the only thing that got me through it. Knowing you were safe, wherever you were, and that you were out there. I made a vow to myself that if I lived through the ordeal, if I ever managed to be free, I'd fix my wrongs. I didn't want to die knowing you still hated me. I wanted to see you, at least once, look upon me with something other than loathing. But then I got addicted to it- addicted to you not hating me anymore. Addicted to being with you, speaking to you, learning about you, playing gods damned chess with you. I crave it more than I crave my next breath. Five hundred years of torment and the past year has made every second worth it. I would do it all again. I would suffer another five centuries of you loving another, another five centuries of facing my father's cruelty, another five centuries of being hated by all of Prythian just for this- just for you."

Azriel's vision blurred from the tears flooding in his eyes, mind whirring as he tried to process the weight of Eris's confessions. No words came to him. Instead, he leaned forward into Eris's shoulder and sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed, releasing centuries worth of sadness and pain and loneliness that had built up inside him. He found a comfort in the crook of Eris's neck that he'd felt never anywhere else before.

It was as if his soul knew he'd met his mate all those years ago in the depths of Hewn City and had been decaying inside him ever since, growing sick at the distance that separated it from its other half. As Azriel leaned into the warmth of Eris, he felt a small part of his frozen, sad soul started to heal.

Eris said nothing, stroking a thumb across the back of Azriel's neck. He leaned more heavily into the sturdy support of Eris's body with each soothing swipe.

"Let's go to bed," Eris whispered into his ear once the sobs stopped racking Azriel's body and his choppy breathing evened out.

There'd be more time to talk tomorrow. The darkness of the night felt too fragile for the words they would need to share, the decisions that needed to be made.

Eris turned his head and gently brushed his lips across Azriel's. They fell in to one another, deepening the kiss before pulling away to catch their breath.

Eris ran the hand that was on the back of his neck down his arm, fingers ghosting across the sleeve of the dark green jacket Azriel wore. At the cuff, he danced along the black sewn embellishments before finally trailing down to tangle his fingers with Azriel's.

Wordlessly, he pulled him towards the bed.

When they got to the foot of it, Eris raised his hands up and began unclasping the silver buttons that held Azriel's jacket closed. He then reached around his back and unbuttoned the ones that ran from the bottom hem to the base of his wings.

"I really do like this jacket on you," Eris whispered into the depth of the silence.

"I knew you would," Azriel murmured back.

He said nothing about the disbelief that twinkled in Eris's eyes. He knew Azriel too well.

Kicking off his shoes and shucking down the tight black trousers he wore, Azriel rounded the bed to the right side closest to the wall of windows. Behind him, he heard Eris also undressing.

Azriel lifted back the heavy duvet and stretched out on his stomach, hoping to give his wings some reprieve from the pressure they'd endured that night. The cool cotton sheets tempered the burning he felt inside of him.

Eris climbed in next to him and laid on his back.

Turning to face the High Lord, his High Lord, he reached out a hand to grasp the wrist that lay closest to him and stroked the delicate skin there.

At the contact, Eris slid over underneath Azriel's outstretched wing, moving closer to him as their gaze locked.

Fire blazed deep inside his amber eyes. It felt like an old friend; one that had scarred him long ago but would never again.

They probably should've bathed, should've eaten something, should've talked more. But the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon flooded Azriel's senses, seeping the energy from his body. All he could do was watch the fire dance in the eyes next to him and think about how Eris smelled like a long-lost nostalgia that he'd finally found.

For the first time, sleep welcomed Azriel with open arms and he felt at peace.

[trinaasworld]

Angel of Aces: Chapter 2

“Fools in love”

I apologize about how long it's taking me to post these chapters but I'm currently balancing both school and work so my free time is quite limited. I'm trying my best to follow the plot of the musical/movie. Pushing the plot forward is a struggle but I'm trying my best to solidify the relationship dynamics before jumping into the true climax of the story ( Don juan scene, Phantom reveal...). Honestly, I'm not proud of this chapter but its...something, I guess.

Also no beta read so please ignore any spelling mistakes you see. :(((

The more you spoke with Angel the more sleep you lost and it quickly became visible to those around you. For the past week your shifts felt like an eternal loop of you dozing off at the bar and Raoul struggling to keep you awake by holding random conversations which did help you, despite the heavy feeling on your eyelids. Conversations with him were full of fun stories and recollecting shared memories from your childhoods, pushing the thoughts of Erik away for a little while.

But The Phantom noticed it all. He watched from the shadows, his face hidden behind the cards as his eyes bore holes into the back of your head. Raoul had captured something he longed for ever since he first laid eyes on you, which was your pure heart. And he wasn’t afraid to get hands dirty in order to possess it but he couldn’t do it just yet. You weren’t ready for him.

And the fact that the casino championship was quickly approaching only made your life more chaotic. Night after night there were intense games all around you. Some players got in fights, some fled the casino in the middle of a round. You couldn’t help but get curious and watch from a distance, slowly learning their tactics. It was a good idea for business, a downward spiral of mindless betting for weeks.

Meg insisted on the two of you having sleepovers to take stress off of your mind. Her apartment had become a safe space for you after your father’s death. Mrs. Giry, her mother, quickly took you under her wing and acted like a real parent, even as strict as she was.

—

“If that’s what you want..” Meg shrugged after you offered to play a quick card game

With a smile on your face you reached in your bag, pulling out a deck of cards. They were wrapped in a layer of wrapping paper. It wasn’t just any deck of cards like the ones in the stores. The cards were black with the suits and numbers painted in gold, giving them an elegant and unique look.

“Where did you get these from?” She gasped, reaching out to take a few of the cards and inspect them.

“Oh, I just found them on my doorway the other day.” You shrug, your face heating up at the memory of how you got the cards.

A week ago you went home expecting the same old sight of your lonely apartment but to your surprise there was something new. A gift was waiting on your doorstep. It was this neatly wrapped box…and a single red rose.

“Oh, don't tell me it's a gift!” She exclaimed, pulling you closer. Her eyes lit up with curiosity, wanting to know every little detail.

“Well, I don't know.. Maybe it's the wrong address for a delivery..” You brushed it off but there was a faint whisper in the back of your mind. What if it really was a gift? From Raoul perhaps? Or maybe…Angel? It couldn't be him, though. He doesn’t know where you live, does he?

You shook your head, silencing the thoughts and shuffling the cards for the game. The odd feeling of being watched loomed over you throughout the entire night.

Despite the worrying thoughts you still managed to win the game, using the same tactic you noticed Erik always wins with. Poker wasn't so hard after all…

—

Morning soon came and you fell into the loop of endless shifts once again. The qualifications for the championship were as chaotic as the practices, but this time you weren't so lost. You watched the different strategies each player used, taking mental notes.

When there were breaks between games you and Meg played quick casual games, betting candies instead of actual money. Every time you two played on the bar you couldn't help but feel stared at, not watched, stared. You were being studied. But each time you turned around no one was even glancing at your direction.

Once you got home you laid down, noticing the notifications on your phone. It has become a part of your routine to chat with Angel every night.

This time the message was odd. It was a file. Without a second thought you clicked on it, the file instantly downloading and opening.

As you read it you realized that it was quite literally the games you played with Meg being described. Each card your hand touched, each mistake you made, each move you played. Even your strategies were analyzed.

[“You always blink rapidly a few times when you have good cards.”]

[“Your finger twitches when you make a false bet.”]

[“Don't shake your legs so much, you always change the pace when you're thinking.”]

He went on and on, mentioning each and every little movement you subconsciously made. It was almost as impressive as it was creepy.

The document then had a few paragraphs with tips and tricks.

[“Be more aggressive with your moves.”]

[“Make more eye contact and stop repeating your bets. Make them seem random.”]

After reading the whole thing you entered the chatroom it was sent to, quickly typing out a reply.

Y/N:

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you stalking me?”

X:

“I can see potential in you, darling. You can be more than a waitress.”

Y/N:

“Are you always in the casino? Why didn't you approach me?”

X:

“You're not ready to meet me yet, little one, remember?”

Each time you asked Angel to reveal his face, which happened quite often, he would reject you in a similar way. He would always say that you weren't ready, that he didn't want to rush it, that looks don't mean anything if you truly love someone.

Y/N:

“It's getting disturbing. Please stop acting like this before I report you to the police.”

X:

“You're my student. I mean no harm. Your talent is my creation that I will shape into perfection. And when you have finally reached your peak, your most powerful state, that is when you’ll meet me, my dear.”

Y/N:

“How do I reach this peak you are talking about?”

X:

“Leave it to me. I have everything planned.”

You were both scared and captivated by the thrill he was offering. Your life had never been so exciting and you were getting drunk on the new feeling. It was a dangerous game you were playing but you couldn't deny how much you liked it. Such a sucker for pain you were. Fallen right into his trap, wrapped around his finger and just waiting to get crushed by his hands.

That night you couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning for an hour until you finally gave up and accepted your fate. You stared at your clock, watching the numbers switch every once in a while as you gathered up the energy to get up.

You filled the tub with warm water and poured soap in, hiding the surface under a layer of bubbles. Once the water surrounded your exposed skin your muscles relaxed as you sighed. It was as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

In that same moment you got unexpected company. Unexpected for you, planned for him. He unlocked the front door by jamming a handmade replica of your key into the hole. It was easy to get your key copied when you stay out for so long everyday. Poor thing…You surely were lucky that it was him breaking in and not someone else, someone who wants to hurt you.

He made sure to distribute his weight on each foot as he walked in, avoiding the parts that creaked. Good thing he studied your home, he thought. Without making any unnecessary sounds, he made his way into your bedroom only to find your bed empty. For a moment he got worried, his heart skipping a beat before he noticed the lights in the bathroom.

You gave him a perfect view of your side profile as you took a nap in the water. Your hair was wet and slicked back to reveal your beautiful face and delicate neck. Oh,how he loved your neck. He would do anything to just wrap a hand around it and feel your pulse quicken, feel how your blood moved under your skin. And your face…he could stare at it for hours. He could and would make a statue of your face just so your beauty got preserved in time.

The bubbles were like a blanket that covered you but he could still see your collarbone. He wanted to run his finger on the thin bone, so easily breakable. You were just so fragile. He didn't have a choice but to protect a birdie like you.

He inched closer and closer, the smell of you drawing him in. His mind was drunk on the thought of how vulnerable you were. The need to reach out made his skin crawl, it was driving him to the point of insanity. You made him forget about being a gentleman, the word “respect” disappeared from his dictionary. Such a minx you were, and you didn't even know it.

It took everything in his power to not follow his instincts.

You fell deeper and deeper into slumber, the realm of dreams welcoming you with open arms. The darkness of your eyelids became a world of its own. A warm breeze brushed against your skin before the image of a beach formed before your eyes. You were laying on a lounge chair with a cocktail in your hand. This trip was surely the best one you’ve had. Your loyal butler appeared next to you, bending down to speak in your ear.

“It's time for your massage, miss.”

The man went behind you and began to rub your shoulders, using his thumbs to ease the tension in your neck. A sigh rumbled in your throat but your lips were sealed. For a moment your eyes fluttered shut and when you opened them it was already getting dark. His hands were still on you, now massaging your head.

On the sand there were footprints that went nowhere. You glanced around and back at the track where now stood a figure. It was a tall shadow without a face. Despite it not having eyes it still stared down at you, now being held down by your butler.

“Y/N…Y/N..” The figure hummed quietly. You tried to break free from the grip he had on you but you were far too weak. The sun behind the figure began to set, painting the sky red.

Meanwhile, the man's hands were getting wetter and wetter as he caressed your sore shoulders. His grip on you tightened when you tried to turn, he couldn’t let you wake up just yet. His sleeping beauty.

You stared at the figure, completely hypnotized as it slowly morphed into a man. Not any man, Erik. The Phantom that haunted your mind. Erik loomed over you, casting a shadow upon your frozen body as he closed in the distance between you.

“My dear..” He whispered. You tried to move but just couldn't, the hands of your butler had turned into ropes that kept you tied to the chair. The rough texture scratched your exposed skin.

“You have to show them. Show them just how powerful you are. The power you hold is unbearable.” His voice was all around you.

His fingers crawled in your hair, tugging at the wet stands. Twist after twist he began to braid your hair as you snored quietly. The scent of your shampoo soaked into his skin, your locks sticking to his knuckles.

“E-Erik..” You called out, his name rolling off of your tongue even in your sleep. His heart stopped beating. His blood ran cold. For a split second all he could see was red.

Before he could stop himself he dunked your head in the water. His strong hands gripped your hair tightly and held you under the bubbles. You instantly snapped out of your dream and began to thrash in the water. You kicked and waved your hands around to save yourself but he was too strong.

The water began to floor your mouth, nose and ears. You were running out of air in your lungs as you screamed for help. Your movements made the water spill out of the tub and create a puddle on the floor. Some of the water landed on him, but his movements didn’t stutter the slightest.

“Help! Raoul!” You cried out in fear, screaming the first name that popped in your head at the thought of dying like this. Raoul wasn’t here, he wasn’t nowhere near but you still called out for him in hopes of the angels carrying your voice to him somehow.

The only thing your scream did was make the man become more rough. How could you call out for another man in his presence? After everything he had done for you…such a hopeless case you were. So blind for not seeing your perfect future with him. He’ll make you see it, make you experience it. He needed to clean your mind from the sins that were filling it. He needed to baptize you right here, right now.

He pushed you harder until the back of your head hit the bottom of the tub. And then there was no more pressure. No fingers were pulling on your hair, no hands wrapped around you. Complete silence, complete darkness. Your body floated up towards the surface as you gasped for air. The soap had caused your eyes to burn and your vision to become blurry. You took deep and quick breaths in an attempt to calm down your racing heart. There was no sign of anyone being here, no footprints and the door hadn’t moved. Your apartment was completely still, the only sound being your breaths. Maybe it was a dream, you thought. Maybe you had slipped down while sleeping. But when did you manage to…braid your hair?

You stood up,wrapping a towel around your wet body and rushed to the mirror. Your legs were still shaking from the fear you experienced so you had to hold yourself up on the counter. The mirror was fogged but you could still see your reflection, the way your cheeks were stained with tears and how red your eyes had gotten. Despite it all you were okay, no scars or anything like that…except your neck. On the side of your neck, right where your jugular pumped blood was a red mark. As if someone had dug their fingers into your soft flesh. As if a vampire had sucked your blood. Could a bug have bitten you? Could you have hit yourself while sleeping? You hadn’t let anyone get close to your neck in a long time, let alone leave a mark.

With fearful steps you made your way to your bedroom, checking if the front door was locked on the way. It was. But your worries didn’t stop there, what you found nearly made you scream.

On your bed there was a gift. A black box wrapped with a red ribbon that you certainly didn’t leave there. You quickly threw on some clothes and jumped in your car, driving to the safest place you could think of - Raoul.

You drove way above the speed limits but you didn't care. You needed him. Tears began to well up in your eyes and roll down your face, making your driving even more dangerous than it already was. After arriving you parked the car as fast as you could and rushed to his front door. Your fist crashed against the cold wood and echoed through the quiet night air.

The door swung open and the lights from inside blinded you for a moment. When you opened your eyes there he stood, Raoul. His hair was a mess and he had just a pair of sweatpants on. That was when you realized it was the middle of the night. Everyone except you was asleep. You and the intruder, that is.

Without a second thought you jumped forward, crashing with his chest. Tears began to pour from your eyes and for a moment you were thankful he didn't wear a shirt, it would’ve been a total mess if he did. Yes, the fact that he was half naked made this a bit awkward but you didn't care. And neither did he.

His hands wrapped around you, rubbing your upper back in an attempt to calm you down.

“Hey,hey,hey…it's alright. It’s alright.” He whispered, pulling you inside his home and closing the door. You tripped on your own feet but he was strong enough to hold your trembling body up.

“Raoul..” You sobbed quietly, muffled by his flesh.

“Shh…don't talk, Lotte.” Raoul knew it was for the best to not let you speak just yet. His heart ached at the sight of you in such a state but he was willing to let you cry it out first. One of his hands let go of your back and went up to wipe the tears off of your stained cheeks.

“Someone…someone was there.” You tried your best to speak in between sobs but it felt as if your throat was clogged. Your eyes looked up at him, noticing the soft expression on his face. It had an instant effect on you, making your heartbeat slow down.

“Someone was inside my home.” The words finally left your mouth and his face lost all its color. His smile morphed into a worried expression. He pulled back from you, checking for any visible wounds before speaking.

“What do you mean, Y/N? Did you see them? Are you hurt? We should call the police!” He slowly slipped into a state of panic, the urge to protect you clouding his mind.

Your lip trembled. His hands were digging into your soft flesh, leaving red marks on your skin as he shook you.

“I was..I was in the bath and I was under the water and there was a box on my bed..”

“A box? Lotte, are you sure you didn't leave it there?” He tried to explain your strange case with logic, giving you a weak smile. You wanted to believe his words, but you couldn't. What he was saying was far from the truth.

Your face hardened, getting slightly irritated by the fact that he thought you were dumb. Did he not trust you?

“I know I didn't leave it there, Raoul. Someone was inside my apartment.” You spoke, making sure he understood what you meant.

“Someone was there, he touched me, and that same person left the box on my bed.” Raul’s eyes widened at your statement, his breath hitching for a moment.

“He touched you?!” He exclaimed, anger brewing inside him. It was something he knew could happen, but prayed it wouldn't. The world was a cruel place.

“Spend the night here, Y/N. We’ll go back to your place tomorrow.” Raoul insisted, his urge to protect you growing stronger and stronger. You trusted him with your life, so you accepted his offer with no hesitation.

Throughout the evening he made sure you never thought about the intruder. The two of you made something to eat while watching a few episodes of the show you both liked, played a few quick games and when you finally felt tired it was time to sleep. He was kind enough to offer you his bed, knowing that it was for the best to not leave you alone.

You made yourself comfortable in his bed and waited for him to join you, which he didn't do. Raoul was preparing himself to go to sleep on the couch next room, refusing to disturb your peace with his presence. But you didn’t agree with him. You were the guest! If anyone was going to sleep on the couch it was going to be you but his bed was big enough to fit three people on it, so you didn't see a problem with sharing.

“Raoul, please.” A pout formed on your lips as you pat down the bed beside you. It was a trick you had up your sleeve that always worked on him. It made his heart melt, his protests crumbling down into dust. He sighed and made his way to the bed, tossing you the pillow that he was taking to the couch. His body weight made the mattress sink down, tilting your body towards him. The two of you had shared beds countless times when you were little so it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. It felt more like reliving a shared memory.

The two of you were silent for a few moments, listening to the cars passing below his window. Some silence after such a long day felt good. Him being beside you also felt good. It has been such a long time since you shared a bed. Your body had almost forgotten the feeling of someone’s body warmth under a blanket. The dim lights around you made it even more calming, even more intimate.

You were laying on your side, face to face with Raoul, his warm breath fanning over your skin. But it wasn’t intimate, was it? You never felt intimate with Raoul, he was more like a brother after all. Comparing him to Erik he seemed like the perfect platonic partner, nothing more. He thought of you the same, right? You hoped he did.

“Tomorrow…I’m scared of what might be there.” You confessed with a quiet voice, feeling as if you are being watched by someone else who wasn’t Raoul. What if the man is still in your home when you come back? What if he waits for you to fall asleep to hurt you? Chills ran up your spine.

“Don’t be, Lotte. I’ll be with you.” He replied with a soft tone, reaching out to touch your hand gently. His touch was warm, his gaze even warmer as he stared at you with starry eyes. A contrast with the harsh touches of the mysterious guest.

At that moment, you felt hope. Pure and innocent hope that everything will be okay as long as he is here. Only he made you feel like this, feel truly appreciated and adored.

You didn’t realize when your eyes fluttered closed and didn’t open again, slowly falling asleep in his arms. He gave you more warmth than the blanket, his body was softer than the pillows under you. Oh, and his breathing…it was so rhythmic and calming like a melody just for your ears to hear. He was truly one of a kind, like your father would say.

Golden rays of sunshine creeped through the large windows in his room and landed right on top of your sleeping forms. You stirred awake, instantly feeling an unfamiliar weight on you. Slowly turning your head around you noticed how the two of you had slept. Raoul had wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his palms on your stomach. He had his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin. For a moment you felt warm up on the inside, for a moment you blushed, for a moment you fell in love with him. But only for a brief moment before pulling away. At least you tried to pull away before his grip tightened around your body.

“A moment longer, please.” He whispered in a raspy voice, mind still hazy and slow. It wasn’t like his normal voice, it was more intimate, more passionate. His body pushed up against yours as he chased your comforting warmth.

“Raoul, come on..” You protested with a soft voice, a chuckle rumbling in your dry throat. If you stayed like this any longer you knew that the lines of your relationship would get blurred, more blurred than they already were. With one last tug you managed to break his grip, but he didn’t react. His hands still had their weight on your sides but he was giving you the freedom to get up…which you didn’t do. You weren’t ready to lose this feeling. With a sigh you turned around to face him, breathing in his scent as you hid your face by his neck like he did with you. He shifted his hands so they were on your upper back before pulling you even closer.

“You're safe, no one will find you here.” He comforted you, his gentle fingers tracing your spine. His voice did wonders when it came to chasing your worries away, like an angel.

The weight that had been looming over you for days now finally lifted, allowing you to breathe once again. Your heart calmed down, it's beating slowing for the first time since yesterday. It felt as if there was a bubble around the two of you. In that moment nothing else mattered, just you and him.

“Promise me that all you say is true.” You spoke into his skin.

“I promise.” That was all he needed to say to make you believe everything he was telling you. The snow outside began to pile up, the air got harsher but you stayed warm in his embrace for a couple more minutes. You couldn’t help but question what you two had become…surely this wasn’t something friends did. But could this one situation be the start of a relationship?

Slowly the two of you fully woke up and peeled away from each other, neither of you mentioning how the air was now filled with heavy tension. Neither one of you daring to admit that you liked it.

The look in his eyes was now different, more passionate. His eyes, once filled with innocence and love were now alluring and intense. It made your heart skip a beat.

But despite the change in him, Raoul was still Raoul. He got up before you and left the room in a hurry before coming back with two cups of warm coffee. The kind gesture warmed you up more than the drink, earning a smile from you.

“Thank you, Raoul.” You spoke softly, almost shyly.

“You're welcome, Y/N.” He replied and climbed into bed with you again. The two of you sipped on your coffee lazily, making some small talk but not mentioning the way you woke up. Soon the conversation spiraled into you worrying about the gift that awaited you back at home.

Raoul drove you home, insisting that he came with you just in case.

The box was left like it was yesterday, untouched in the middle of your bed. You felt your heart drop. While you struggled to calm your heart down Raoul began to unbox it.

His hands ripped through the layers of wrapping paper. It felt like deja vu, it felt like you were watching yourself from days ago when you got that deck of cards. The paper was exactly the same, the way it was wrapped too. Even the bow was the same. Underneath the layers there was a letter and what seemed like…a dress. Raoul took the letter while you pulled out the dress.

It was a beautiful black dress, a unique gown that would fit your body perfectly. The black fabric had glitter in it that reflected the light perfectly, not too much but also not too little. Around the collar there were tiny details that only the one wearing it would see. You had never seen a dress like this before, let alone wear one. The fabric felt soft against your skin,the whole dress was almost as light as a feather. After you got done with inspecting the dress you returned your attention to Raoul, who had a scared expression on his face. Something you never wanted to see on his face. His fingers were trembling as he clutched the paper.

“Raoul?” You whispered, dropping the dress without hesitation and approaching him.

He couldn’t speak. He just looked at you with those fearful, worried eyes that made your heart drop. You walked around him and read the letter from over his shoulder…realizing that he had every right to be scared.

“Y/N, darling, I’ve got news for you.

Your loyal angel and teacher, me, arranged a game just for you. I managed to clear out a table just for you, I even chose who you’ll play against- Carlotta

You’ll do amazing, little one. Wear the dress I got you and you’ll be the brightest star there.

Carlotta is way too full of herself, someone has to bring her back down on Earth and that will be you.

If you don't do it, I’ll be quite upset and that's not something you want to see.

See you tonight, Y/N.”

Your heart sank even lower than it already was, your blood went cold. The letter made your fight of light response kick in. It was the first time you’ve ever been this scared in your life. Your mouth went dry and a cold drop of sweat ran down your back. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt like a deer in the headlights and the person behind the wheel was only speeding up more and more. Right when the big truck was going to hit you a pair of arms pulled you out of its way. Raoul pulled you into a tight hug but you couldn’t return the gesture. You stood still in his embrace, not even his warmth could snap you out of the anxious thoughts.

His scent, so sweet and nostalgic, slowly filled your lungs and made you relax little by little. A single tear rolled down your cheek, a drop of true fear for your safety. Your Angel had turned into a Phantom that haunted you even in your own home, a ghostly voice that whispered in your ear even when you slept.

Raoul’s whispers were the opposite of Angel’s. He whispered comforting words, promising to protect you. He promised to catch this angel of yours but for that to happen you had to play tonight…play and give it your all. And while you play he will sneak in the security guards and catch him. Then it will all be over, it all depends on you.

He handed you the dress, his eyes filled with hope and encouragement for you. His fingers caressed your hair and a soft smile tugged at his lips.

“You can do it, Lotte. It all ends tonight.”

[bi-hop]

I keep staring at the tags in that last post I reblogged. it's not horror I'm feeling or shock, it's just unsurprised rage

you make a post about the need for the abolishment of a force that multiple organizations (which include the NAACP) cite as having its modern roots in slave patrols and nonblacks dismiss it as a distraction, as if it's the fault of Black people that the attention economy is so limited that platforming multiple connected issues at once is 'too hard' for some people

a quick Google search turns up multiple articles explaining how US cops train with and learn from their Israeli counterparts, with crowd control being a key element in said education. where do we often see concentrated violence and police brutality in the name of 'crowd control'? do I need to spell it out for you?

you make a post about how antiblack violence and police brutality is warped into a spectacle by white people as a form of voyeurism in the name of awareness and you immediately get people going "it's only some of us" and otherwise nitpicking the language used. as if the language is the problem and not the fact that our corpses are always on display and our bodies are always subject to a level of scrutiny and dehumanization, regardless of if we're alive or not. is it really so hard to understand how this is all a connected problem? who gets to live? who gets to live with dignity? who gets to die well? who gets to mourn without the burden of judgment?

my first year at my university, I had to sit out of a lesson that went into lurid detail about the trial concerning the murder of Travyon Martin. I thought I could handle it, but just reading some abridged transcripts brought back all of the terror and sorrow of watching that man get declared not guilty. not even a few months later after the verdict, my brother got stalked by a new neighbor and stopped going on walks for a year. my teacher apologized but also spoke of the 'value' of it all. this last year, before graduation, cops tore down our encampment, established by Palestinian students and their allies, in the middle of the night. they did nothing about people filming those involved to slander them or the physical assaults Zionists from off campus directed against everyone involved. suddenly, the academic value of the history of protest is gone. we received constant emails calling the encampment a violent act against our school. it barely took up much of the quad.

but sure. all of this is disconnected and in a hierarchy to boot. everything is in its neat little vacuums. don't talk about climate justice. don't talk about police brutality. discuss genocide, but only in abstractions and never when it'll jeopardize the political agenda you have going on. never actually look the people suffering in the face, but don't look away. I'm sick of you all for real

[tinrange]

i think i’m a little confused by your wording (i just woke up so i apologize for that it’s probably my fault) but you’re saying the people that think ray is just using sand as another addiction are annoying right (unless that’s not what you’re saying then you can just ignore this lmao). it irritates me because i feel like ep 9 in specific proved anything but that. i think people hold onto the ideas and the way the relationships were from the beginning of the show and refuse to see them as anything else? like yes, ray was using sand to fill a void at first just like top was using mew as a new experience that he wasn’t serious about and just like how boston didn’t see nick as anything but a fuck buddy. these relationships started one way and have grown from that so it’s annoying to see them still be reduced as to what they were originally so far into the show.

and for people that continue to go on about what the narrative is saying they’re certainly missing the narrative of last episode that sand believes he’s not important to ray and that it’s just lust and his feelings aren’t serious and him expressing that multiple times in the episode only for ray to prove him wrong. they had sand say he wouldn’t drive up there for 2 hours in the middle of the night and say that he’s not important enough for it and say it’s only lust so sand could be proven wrong. sand also clearly wanted him to show that type of dedication (even though yes it was ray crossing boundaries). it was spelled out for people …..

https://www.tumblr.com/tinrange/730865004283330560/its-like-some-people-have-forgotten-the-phrase

YOU GET ITTTT yes exactly. People's perception of Ray really hasn't moved past the character introduction, hes still just the drunkard to them. Even the way lots of people talk about him healing and going to rehab has become inexplicably tied to becoming 'deserving' of sand instead of focusing on the painful process that recovery would be for him and all he would have to endure.

It honestly feels like most people lack empathy for Ray that they extend to a majority of other characters, there's a dangerous lack of awareness in the ideas being peddled and they betray so many people's subconscious views on addiction.

Ray has spent episodes on episodes reaching out to sand, listening to sand, and giving parts of himself to sand freely. Hes been kind and loving to him in numerous ways but there's a notion that he cant be in love through that addiction and that hes warped beyond belief. Its honestly sad to see.

Addiction changes you, but it is not a personal failing its a disease and one where recovery is possible, seeing people dismiss all his actions and his care as misplaced addictive tendencies strips him of his autonomy and i cant stand it!!

[sawyer-is-not-my-name]

Ominis Gaunt x G/N! Reader

cw: anxiety, hl spoilers, a shared trauma, blood

synopsis: reader escapes their trauma in a way Ominis isn’t to keen on

Your fingers rapped at the door nervously, you pulled your hand back placing it back on the strap of your bag. Your heart seemed to be pounding out of your chest, you wanted to turn around and head home but it was too late. The door swung open, revealing your disheveled looking husband. Despite lacking site he knew if was you, “Darling, what happened?” His voice calming your anxiety, “why were you out in the rain… you reek of blood- it’s not your right?!?”

You bowed your head “not all of it” you responded, he grabbed your hand tugging you into the warmth of the house. He cast a spell lighting some candles, not for him but for you, so caring in that way. He pulled a chair put for you getting a rag and getting to work assessing the damage. Scars had seemed to collect on your skin since your fifth year, the spots only reminding you of the darkest years of your life.

You flinched as his fingertips met your skin “sorry” “sorry” the words fell from both your lips at the same time, small laughs accompanying it.

When he finished patching you up, he sighed waiting for your explanation. “What was it this time?” you bit your lip, you hated worrying him with your problems. You knew after everything your fifth year, you weren’t the only one suffering from the trauma. You just couldn’t seem to cope with it, everything you tried wasn’t working despite it being five years since.

“You left without even leaving me a sign to where you were! What if you never made it home? What would I do then?” A tear fell down your cheek as you looked down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to worry you.” he remained stone faced at the response.

“I need you to tell me, whats going on in that brilliant mind of yours, dove.” His hands reached out to yours gently clasping over them. “The nightmares are back.” your voice was small, but he heard you. He hadn’t known the past was still haunting you as much as it was him.

“You too?” you just nodded allowing him to pull you into him. “why don’t we try something?” you looked up at him nodding into his chest. “I know you wanted to just pretend it didn’t happen, but what if instead we talk about what happened, just to each other. Just you and me, dove. If it doesn’t work we’ll stop but let’s just try it for the sake of trying something different.” You weren’t sure it was going to work but for him you’d try it.

—time skip—

you awoke to the sun coming in through the curtains hitting your face, and your lovers fingers tracing your features. “Morning, dove. How did you sleep?” You smiled into the hand that was on your cheek, “a lot better than I used to.” He pressed a kiss into your lips a smile gracing both pf your faces.

Six months since you’d had a nightmare, your trauma no longer held you captive. You spent your nights in the blonds arms, no longer leaving him in the middle of the night. His fears finally being quieted by knowing you were safe at night and not fighting poachers god knows where.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” he laughed lightly, “I already let you oversleep,” hugged the man above you, “but I’m so comfy and I don’t want to move” he groaned before finally giving in agreeing to give you another five minutes, which of course turned into and hour.

—-

i know that took longer than usual to get something out but i keep getting sick so i apologize. Lifes been a little hectic as of late and my priorities are health and school so its a little difficult at the moment to post, but im trying! love yall

[anotheranonymousquill]

Hey @ace-malarky I started typing out a reply for you question about my parallel characters, and it has disappeared. I have absolutely no idea where it went, but I could talk about them for ages and was honoured you found them interesting!

So anyway, here is my second attempt at answering that, because the original had vanished.

Fun fact, those two are Tess and Ethan from my dystiopian novel. So the do get to interact, however complicated their relationship, since they are my main characters. (It'll be either Tess’s POV, or they will both have one, tbd)

Tess is investigating all of Ethan’s secrets in order to report them to the military and gain the military leader's approval. (Its a spectail test/mission she needs to pass to be granted permission to marry said military leaders Son, and thus fuliff her mother's expectations and earn her mother's love/approval with the power her marriage would bring).

Ethan very much does not want Tess to learn all his secrets, but he kinda has no choice other than cooperating while she sorts out the info he was supposed to send the military, which is the only reason why he's Tess’s test that everyone involved actually knows about. (There are several more that different people in-world do or don't know, and none of this is public knowledge) If he doesn't cooperate, he'll have to deal with a more public investigation that would make his situation - ahem secrets cough cough - 10 times more destructive and grab the unwanted punishment/consequences of 2 rather powerful groups that would not get along well. And he and his family would be stuck in the middle of the insuing destruction. So he cooperates.

They tolerate each other and serve the people they are loyal to in ways that parallel and complicate the situation even more. If they want to find a solution that is something remotely safe for Ethan’s family, he will need to ask Tess for help (not happening, nope never, over his dead body). Likewise if they want that solution, Tess will have to prioritie Ethan’s family over passing her ultimate test (not happening, nope, never, she'd die before failing like that).

Anyway, I've copy pasted some bonus loyalty/motivation rambles I typed out in a brainstorming session one night below. Apologies for any spelling mishaps or sections that tried to be poetic and ended up just confusing.

Tess and Ethan are achingly similar when it comes to loyalty. I'm realising now that there are strong themes of being motivated by loyalty and navigating complicated webs of who and what to trust.

But both are driven mainly by their loyalty to family.

Loyalty to fight on their mothers' behalf and take falls/hardship ment for the women who raised them and whom they so admire.

Loyalty to their siblings that drives them to set aside their own wellbeing, do anything required, to protect their younger siblings.

Loyalty to the idea of their father that they know doesn't live up to the standard of a good man and dad they see them as mentally, even if they say that knowledge doesn't matter. But does that really matter when the fathers now play such a distanced role in their lives? Who cares if rhe memories are painted with a rosy tint Ethan and Tess still manage to fall short of.

And finally, loyalty born of desperation that says this way of doing things is the only way to live out this loyalty in a way that matters. Loyalty to the very idea that sacrificing all of yourself for family is the only possible was to reach for the minimum those impossible tasks demand of you.

Tess will never be good enough because her mother will never love her as a person while seeing her as a tool. But Tess’s loyalty to her mother demands she try. And try. And try again. Otherwise what was any of it even for. What else could there possibly be to live for. How else could she possibly live her life?

Ethan will never fully accept his mum's live because she would never allow him to sacrifice as much as he has, and she would never forgive herself for the lies he told to keep that sacrifice from her. But his loyalty to her and his sister prevents him from even considering the idea that he could stop. How could he possibly tell them. How could he possibly protect them without making the sacrifices he does. How else could he possibly live his life?

And yet when they eventually see through each other's facade of functionality, neither can stand letting the other continue to live like this. Yet they also can't see how to help because every reason, feeling and tactic is mirrors and echos their own response to the question of 'what other way could there possibly be' - an answer of 'none. There is no other way'.

But still the weary desperate question that claws its way to notice again and again and again is one that asks how either person can go on like this. They know the answer. They can't. If they haven't already broken, eventually they will. But it is not an option to fail.

[dabbles-in-drabbles]

Forgiveness and Vengeance

Summary:

Andan knew her end would come, she had made peace with that. She knew exactly how she was going to die, and she knew it would not be at the hands of Mindflayers.

She was infected, survived the shipwreck, and defeated the goblins. All this with strangers watching her back, and a vampire watching her neck.

If she was to die, she knew she at least lived her life how she wanted to, even with all of the unexpected twists.

Pairing: Astarion x Tav

Tav: Andan, Oath of Vengeance Paladin

Chapter 8: Truths

Andan was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of quiet shuffling. Blearily glancing around revealed Astarion was sitting up, arms bent in a way for his finger to trace the scars on his back. He was mumbling softly, making it so she could not hear him.

“Astarion..? Is everything alright?”

“Shit- yes, Dani, just fine.”

It took a few more seconds for Andan to wake up completely, to fully see what he was doing. Fingers desperately trying to trace the symbols.

“Astarion…”

He let loose a harsh sigh, whipping his head back with an annoyed look, “I’m fine.”

She raised a brow at him, “Do you need help?”

He turned away, going quiet for a few seconds. A great sigh released from him as he slumped over. He shot back up, sitting straight for a second before slowly hunching his shoulders in again. 

“Yes… please.”

She got up on her knees, crawling over. She grabbed a spare sheet of parchment, a love letter printed on the front half of it that she loved to read from time to time. She turned it over to the blank side and set about sketching it out ever so carefully with a piece of charcoal.

Astarion was quiet, his ears flickering with every scratch on the parchment. He did not move until Andan moved to sit in front of him, parchment in hand. He glanced down, eyes widening as he took in the sketch.

“What… what is this?” “Definitely not a poem. It's infernal, though… Karlach may be able to translate-”

“- No. ”

Andan jumped, looking up at him. Momentarily he looked upset, then ever so briefly shocked. Astarion shut his eyes tight, lowering his chin to his chest.

“I don’t want anyone else to know… please, Andan.”

She gave a small nod, staying there with him in silence. Hesitantly, she placed her hand out with an open palm. A silent apology.

His head raised ever so slightly, looking at her open hand. He placed his hand in her own with little hesitation. His hand encased her own, squeezing.

Their eyes met after a moment. She gave him a small smile, her other hand coming up to hold the back of his head as he leaned forward to rest on her shoulder.

“We can try to find books on reading infernal… if not then we can explore other options.”

Astarion was quiet for a moment before speaking once more, “We’ll see, darling.” Nothing else was said for the rest of the night.

-

They all saw it, even Gale and Shadowheart piped up with a warning before the rest of them.

Necrotic magic, undead. Nothing they have not dealt with before. One way or another, they had to get through, there was a Creche in these mountains. Either they would get through or Lae’zel would kill them all herself.

Gale and Wyll were flinging spells, Astarion was picking off the lone ghouls, Shadowheart was making sure people weren’t going to die. Karlach was running in head first with Lae’zel at her side. It was certain that they were going to win until she noticed the undead that had fallen were starting to rise back up. 

The paladin combed the path, catching sight of a giant of a glowing skeleton carrying a reaper’s scythe. She watched for a moment as it continued to bring back the recently fallen undead. Her decision made, she dashed forward, ignoring the few claws that managed to snag her armor, one managing to rip her helmet off as she dashed her way through the battlefield. 

Sword raised, the shining blade singing with holy light as she brought it down onto the Death Shepherd. She let a smirk grace her face as she heard its shriek, the monster turning its attention towards her completely. 

Words echoed through her head, one of the first lessons Hilor had ever spoken to her, ‘Heed your surroundings in battle, Andan. You may think the battle is won, but there is always a chance of loss until you are all that stands.’

She did not see the second Death Shepherd. She did not see the scythe as it cut upward, catching her in the gut. She could barely hear the shouting, someone screaming her name. Pain began to erupt once more in her abdomen, and then her chest.

Images began to blur until it all went dark. The last thing she remembered seeing was a clash of red and white.

It was dark, flashes of memories from her childhood. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness. She saw a gauntleted hand reach out towards her, gold against the gray streets of the Gate. Safety. Andan remembered reaching her hand out towards it, then her chest began to hurt, her lungs gasping for air. Her vision was flitting between the golden gauntlet and an old withered hand.

Then her eyes finally opened, only to shut tight as she was blinded.

“Andan!”

“Fucking hells she’s up-”

“Say something, my friend, please-”

She took deep breaths, her chest wracked with pain. She cracked her eyes open this time, seeing the afternoon sun cresting the mountains. She spat out the blood in her mouth, not caring that it hit her armor.

“Still alive,” she let a grin grace her features, attempting to crack a joke.

“No, you weren’t.”

She looked up at the voice, meeting the wet gaze of Astarion. He had her head in his lap, hands on either side of her face. He was covered in black blood, face smeared in a way that looked like he had tried to rub it off. His normally immaculately distressed hair looked like it had been put through a den of rats.

“Astarion…”

“No, no. You fucking died , Andan. You ran ahead by yourself, and we couldn’t get to you in time with the scrolls. Withers is the only reason why we were even able to bring you back." 

She blinked up at him. He looked pissed, but beneath that she could see how terrified he was. Terrified that it had happened, and terrified that it had scared him so much.

She gave him the smallest of smiles, “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again.”

He looked surprised for a second before settling on a stern look, “You fucking better not.”

“I’ll second that- the fuck were you thinking, Dani?” Karlach pipped in, leaning over to block out the Sun.

“Uhm…” the half elf paused, furrowing her brows to remember, “I think something was bringing the Ghouls back. I ran up to try to disrupt it, but I didn’t see the second one… was in my blindspot.”

“How about this, Dani.. let the ranged attackers get the ones that are through a horde of undead, yes?”

She felt a small chuckle wheeze through at that, “I’ll agree with you on that, Wyll.”

Shadowheart shook her head, “Just because you know how you’ll die doesn’t mean you can be reckless. We’re all in this together whether we like it or not, and we can’t have you dying on us. Again.”

“I’ll be more careful.”

Halsin approached, hands glowing with healing magic. There was silence as he healed what wounds she had left. Astarion stood by her, offering support as she slowly got to her feet. Andan smiled at her companions, giving them a thumbs up as she successfully stood.

“All better, now.”

Halsin placed a hand on her shoulder, “Excellent. Are you hungry, my friend?”

The growl of her stomach seemed to answer that. There was an amused look from the druid.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Sit and rest- the food will come to you.”

Andan spoke no other words, letting her feet carry her over to the fire. Once she sat down, she could hear the soft sound of Astarion’s tsking to her left.

“Yes, my dear?”

“You’re still in your armor.”

She blinked, looking down at the bloodied cloth and chainmail, “... so I am.”

“That you are.”

There was a small tap on one of the fastenings at her shoulder. She felt a small smile creep onto her face, giving a small nod. Seconds later she felt Astarion begin to release her person from her armor. He was mumbling minor obscenities the entire time, only breaking his tangent to ask her to bend over so he could slip the chainmail off.

By the time he had laid everything out for Gale to cast prestidigitation to clean it off, Halsin had finished dinner, setting it in her hands.

“Thank you, Halsin.”

He said nothing, a small smile gracing his lips.

The bowl was warm in her hands, a thick soup consisting of potatoes and cheese. It smelled delicious, and as much as her stomach begged her to eat it she was nauseous. She took small bites, taking her time.

“How are you feeling, soldier?”

Andnan glanced up at Karlach, a smile on her lips, “Better, thank you… Thank all of you, actually.” 

“What for, Dani?” Wyll raised his brow, turning his head towards her.

The paladin gestured to herself, “For making sure I didn’t, well… stay dead.”

“Of course! I don’t know where we’d be without you, Dani.” the beaming grin from Karlach stayed until she leaned down to whisper into her ear, “Especially Astarion- you should’ve seen him the moment you went down.”

Andan raised her brow at the Tiefling, matching her tone “Is that so?”

“Mmhmmm,” Karlach smirked, glancing over at where Astarion was going through the paladin’s hoard of books, grumbling all the while, “all hissing and spitting. Shadowheart has to stop him from running in after you.” The half-elf hummed softly, keeping her gaze on the vampire. Otherwise, she kept quiet, letting Karlach giggle about the pale rogue.

“Helloooo- Mama K to Dani, are you there?”

Andan snapped out of it, blinking back to focus, “Oh- yes?”

“Did you hear my question, Dan?”

“Oh… sorry, no. Can you please repeat it?” She hated how red her face was.

The barbarian gave her a smirk, “Oh, I’m sorry- was I interrupting your fangy thoughts?”

She scowled at the red tiefling, “Your question, Karlach.”

The taller woman burst into laughter, drawing the attention of everyone else in camp, “I was askin’ about you- you didn’t seem too worried about that fight, I was just guessin’ that, that fight wasn’t it.”

It took Andan a moment to understand what Karlach meant. “Wasn’t it”? What does she mean by that- oh. Her death. Everyone was silent now, listening to what she would say next. The half-elf took a bite of her food before answering.

“No.”

“Good! You’re not allowed to like- actually stay dead until we’re done with this, at least.”

Andan let a smile slip onto her face, “Neither do I, nor do I plan on letting the rest of you pass on, either.”

Conversation returned to the camp, allowing the half-elf to finish her meal with minimal speaking. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up to catch Halsin’s gaze. There was a spark of worry in them, their previous conversation from several days ago coming back to her.

“Your death- it’s coming isn’t.”

“The signs have been there for a bit now. It’s been hard to ignore it.”

“I assume you’re not going to tell me exactly what it is, are you, my friend?”

“At least you can respect that boundary, unlike others.”

Briefly, she did think the last thing she was going to see was the undead. Briefly, she did not think she was going to open her eyes again.

Her eyes glanced at Astarion out of habit, spending a second to watch him finally choose a book and saunter over to her. Seconds before the vampire reached her, her gaze found Halsin’s again, watching his own eyes widen. Something seemed to click in his gaze, an almost morbid understanding reflecting there.

She gave him a small, sad smile before turning her gaze to the book Astarion cracked open as soon as he sat down. “Volo's Guide to Spirits and Spectres” . An interesting read, but she knew he preferred the informational books over her own fictional ones. 

She sat there with Astarion in silence while the rest chattered away. She could feel Halsin’s gaze on her as he wrote in his journal, undoubtedly writing his private thoughts on the matter. She felt the familiar gaze of Withers, and knew he would keep watch over them as the sun began to slowly descend behind the mountains.

Andan let her head rest against Astarion, her eyes falling heavy as sleep began to take her.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in Candlekeep. Her belly, full for the first time in what felt like eternity, and body jittery with nerves. She was treated with kindness and then left alone in the temple. In a city she had never been to. Thoughts raced through her little head. What if this is all a trick and he’ll sell me? I can’t steal for the rest of my life. Is he going to kill me? I thought he said he would make me a paladin. Was it all a lie? Is he going to sacrifice me to some demon? 

Her childish thoughts were interrupted by a gentle, gauntleted hand on her shoulder. Her heterochromic gaze whipped up to the much taller, older elf. Gentle gold eyes and long blond hair that looked to be starting the process of graying.

“Be at ease, my child. You are safe here, you will still live, yet.”

“How do you know that?” Andan’s voice sounded oh so childlike, so young. So scared.

He stooped down to her level, the smile grew somber ever so slightly, “I can see how people will die. And your death will not be here.”

“... and how will I die, Ser Hilor?”

“Do you truly want to know, child?”

Andan thought for a moment before finally answering, “Yes.”

Hilor was quiet for a moment before he spoke at last, “Andan, dear child, your death shall be this: ‘A vampire shall be the reason for thy passing’.”

Her face scrunched up, “Vampires don’t exist, so I’ll never die.”

He let out a sad chuckle, “They do, young one. But I pray you will not meet anytime soon, they can be selfish creatures.”

Fear tickled through her. Maybe coming here was a bad idea after all-

“Do not let my words hinder you, Andan. Take it as a warning. Do not let fear guide your life. Live it how you want. If you wish to hunt down vampires, then you can. If you want to stay away from them, then who am I to stop you.”

“... how is the vampire going to kill me?”

A sad smile came to his aged face, “I do not know, dear child. You could be enemies, it could be a mistaken identity, it could all be an accident.”

Her gaze fell to the ground, fear wracking her body. She did not like that one bit, but her ten-year-old brain did cling onto one thing. Live life how she wanted to. I’ve almost died so many times from hunger, fighting others for scraps. What’s one more danger of death?

The dream came to an end, allowing Andan to truly open her eyes. She was inside her tent now, a cold presence next to her. Turning onto her side, she looked at her bed companion. Astarion was on his back, trancing. A book was laying neatly in his lap, and he looked at peace. 

Dead.

Hilor’s words began to swirl in her mind again.

“A vampire shall be the reason for thy passing.”

The older she grew, the less she had thought of it. It would hit a point her social life was plagued with the fear of vampires, merely speaking the name was going to suffocate her. But, in all this time she had never met a vampire. All the way up till now.

A smile graced her lips, leaning in closer to him. If he knew what it was, it could turn out two different ways. He could be indifferent and brush it off as passing information. Given how Karlach said he had acted earlier when she went down, Andan did not think this would be the case.

I can’t tell him. I can’t let him know.

Previous | Next

[yuusishi]

Hola :>

Remember that one request with the s/o who's always on the verge of passing out cuz of constant nightmares? Can I get that again, but w/ Riddle, Lilia, and Jamil?

. . . NIGHTTIME TROUBLES

pairings : Riddle Rosehearts , Lilia Vanrouge , Jamil Viper x gn!reader

genre : fluff

cws/tws : mentions of nightmares (obv.)

a/n : this might be my last req before the hiatus 😥 also see previous part here

Riddle Rosehearts !!

Before you two got to know each other, whether or not you're a student of Heartslabyul, he will not condone you slouching so hard and falling asleep multiple times in class (neither will Trein 💀).

If he already scolded you for it, he's definitely going to feel a bit guilty after you explained your condition, apologizing immediately after for scolding you before knowing.

As you two get closer and into a relationship with each other, he learns more about your constant nightmares and tries to find things to help.

There's not exactly much he can do, he's not as tech savvy as Idia or as powerful and can do mind-altering magic like Malleus. The most he does is serve you some light tea to calm you down when you wake up suddenly in the middle of the night.

He rubs your back gently as you come down from your panic and then ushers you back to bed once you've calmed down, holding you tightly but not to the point it's suffocating.

Will try to get you excused from class if you only got less than 4 hours of sleep that night since there's no way you'd be able to focus with that. He'd just pass you the notes to copy after class.

Will definitely let the teachers know about your condition (with your consent ofc) to let you get excused, they probably think that you've been cursed or something.

Lilia Vanrouge !!

Your lover is Lilia? Then there's nothing to fear! He's a father after all.

A father who's lullabies can put a crying baby to sleep instantly.

It's a mixed bag with him to be honest. One day he could be taking care of you when you wake up panicked from one of your nightmares, telling you that it isn't real and that you're okay, and the next he could be asking if you'd like him to sing one of his famous lullabies, sometimes both!

He took care of Silver who's NRC's resident sleepyhead, he doesn't mind taking care of another one! Especially since you're plagued with nightmares and because you're his lover.

At first, maybe giving you a little scare throughout the day might help a tiny bit, but then he saw that slowly it was losing its effects.

Similar to Malleus in the previous part, he doesn't want to use any body-altering spell on you for the sake of your safety. Even if the briar prince's magic is more potent that Lilia's, it never hurts to be careful.

At times where he can't be with you, such as you two not being in the same class, then he has one or two of his little bats accompany you and watch over you in case you pass out somewhere unsafe.

Especially if you have alchemy class that day with potion-making instead of just discussions, you falling asleep in front of a cauldron with a potentially explosive potion isn't exactly ideal, after all!

Jamil Viper !!

You had to admit, it was a bit nerve-wracking telling Jamil about your condition at first, considering the amount of things he has on his plate already.

But it was impossible for him not to notice when you were always dozing off in class and during lunch breaks to the point it was affecting your health and grades.

He was the one to approach you about it and it basically killed him inside when he realized you weren't telling him about it for his own sake.

BUT! At least he knows about it now, and since it happens during nighttime he can spare some of his time for you.

He’d prepare some tea and light snacks for you if you asked after waking up from one of your nightmares, oftentimes both of you just sit in a comfortable silence as you slowly calm down, the only light source being the lamp that's softly emanating yellow light next to both of you.

Sometimes he asks if you want to tell him about it to get it off your chest, but he never pries if you don't want to talk about it. He doesn't know just how terrible those nightmares you have are, but he'd never belittle you about them because of how much trouble they obviously cause you.

He'd also try to get you excused from classes if you didn't get much sleep that day, he tries to stay with you in the dorm/infirmary for as long as possible before he gets called to go back to class or when some Scarabia students need help.

(Kalim has definitely tried to hire some doctors or even mages to try to help you, thankfully you and Jamil stopped him just in time before your dorm would've become a 2nd clinic).

[elusive-writer]

Hello!!

I was wondering if you could write some head canons or a one shot about a non-binary reader x Kakyoin who always dances to the music on the radio? Its one of my favorite things to do when I’m playing 70’s-80’s music and I go unnecessarily hard lmao, if possible could you add the other crusaders but platonically?? Like maybe they are all in the car driving and then a song the reader likes comes on the radio and then they just start hitting the boogie in the passenger seat? I apologize if its kinda weirdly specific lol

Ah!! Hi there!

This is the first request I’ve gotten so I was super pumped to write this! And please don’t apologise! The more detail the better, gives me a better idea of what to write 🥰

This is my first time writing for a non-binary reader so I hope I did ok! Any and all feedback is majorly appreciated.

And since I couldn’t decide between head canons and a one shot, you get both lol

(I was also listening to a favourite 80s song of mine while writing this, so I hope it’s ok that it makes a little cameo in the one shot 😅)

I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

𝘒𝘢𝘬𝘺𝘰𝘪𝘯 𝘹 𝘕𝘉! 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘰

(feat. the other crusaders)

Word Count : 1.3k

Head Canons :

Kakyoin absolutely LOVES when your favourite tunes come on, almost as much as you do.

Because it means he gets to see you boogie to your heart’s content.

You might think it’s because he finds it funny, but it’s far from it.

Every time you dance to the radio he’s just mesmerised, he loves the energy you give into every move.

Since Kakyoin was quite reserved as a child, he never had moments where he could just jam out with someone.

So when you gesture for him to join you, he knows he’d be a fool not to.

The other crusaders see the goofy smile on his face every time the two of you dance together.

So they subtly (not so subtly) ensure that you guys just so happen to be partnered up when you stay in hotels.

They come to regret this when your dancing sessions carry late into the night.

Every now and then Jotaro will get sick of it so you’ll hear a muffled “Shut up!” from the next room.

You and Kakyoin giggle quietly as you turn down the radio.

They don’t mind too much though, the nature of this journey is bleak at times so the liveliness you and Kakyoin bring is a welcome breath of fresh air.

Polnareff and Joseph even join you two for a chance to boogie occasionally.

One Shot :

Mr Joestar’s snoring is the only sound that fills the air as you drive along the deserted road. You get an earful of it since you’re sitting in the middle of him and Polnareff, with the latter driving.

You wanted to sit next to Kakyoin but this seating arrangement was the only way all 6 of you would be able to fit in the car. He sat directly behind you, between Jotaro and Avdol.

You’ve been driving for hours with no breaks, there’s not much to do in the car so you start to grow restless.

[YOU] - “Ughhh, I’m so bored!!”

You groan as you plonk your head on the dashboard.

[POLNAREFF] - “Hey hey watch it!”

Polnareff yanks you back into an upright position.

[POLNAREFF] - “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion.”

[YOU] - “Maybe that would be a blessing in disguise. It’d be more interesting than this.”

You rotate in your seat, leaning on your knees to look into the back seat. Jotaro is leaning back with his hat over his face and Avdol is just looking out the window. You look at Kakyoin and he has his eyes closed, he must be sleeping as well. He looks so peaceful, and although you wanna let him rest… you also really wanna talk to him.

[YOU] - “C’mon…”

You wave your hands in front of you like you're trying to cast some kinda voodoo spell.

[YOU] - “Wake up.”

And to no one’s surprise your incantation fails. You sigh.

[AVDOL] - “Why don’t you try the radio?”

You turn your attention towards the fortune teller.

[AVDOL] - “Maybe we can get a signal out here.”

You immediately perk up at the idea and nod. Turning back around you start fiddling with controls. There’s only static but you don't stop trying. You’re about to throw in the towel but then you hear the radio crackle to life.

♪ ♪ ♫ ♪

Your face lights up when you recognise the melody.

[YOU] - “No fucking way!”

[JOTARO] - “Good grief could you be any louder?”

You turn your head and Jotaro is now sitting up, you shoot him an apologetic smile.

[KAKYOIN] - “Can you blame them? This one is one of their favourites.”

♪ Shake it up is all that we know ♪

You immediately spin back around onto your knees and meet Kakyoin’s gaze.

[YOU] - “Hey you’re awake!”

[KAKYOIN] - “I’ve actually been awake for a while.”

♪ Using the bodies up as we go ♪

You start moving your shoulders to the rhythm.

[JOTARO] - “Good grief here we go again.”

♪ I’m waking up to fantasy ♪

Kakyoin laughs when you start using an imaginary microphone to mouth the lyrics. You hold a hand out to him, still getting your groove on.

[YOU] - “C’mon I know you wanna join me.”

♪ Broken ice still melts in the sun ♪

How can he refuse when you’re looking at him like that? Kakyoin grabs your hand and proceeds to go HAM with you. It’s like y’all are at your own personal concert. Your fingers are intertwined as you both seemingly escape into the music.

[JOTARO] - “Great, now there’s two of them.”

Avdol chuckles at the display in front of them.

[AVDOL] - “This is good, a little spirit is never a bad thing-”

[YOU] - “YOU’RE OUT OF TOUCH.”

You hold the ‘microphone’ to Kakyoin.

[KAKYOIN] - “I’M OUT OF TIME.”

[YOU + KAKYOIN] - “BUT I’M OUT OF MY HEAD WHEN YOU’RE NOT AROUND!”

Jotaro just shakes his head while Avdol’s laughter fills the space in between you and Kakyoin’s singing (screaming)

It goes on like this for a while, the radio cycles through the songs, and you and Kakyoin give an oscar worthy performance to every single one of them. Polnareff turns up the radio so you can really give it your all, Avdol joins in for some of the songs, and you even manage to get a tiny smirk from Jotaro.

It’s cut short when the radio stops while you’re in the middle of a song.

[YOU] - “Hey driver, what happened to the music?”

You hear a bit of fidgeting before he answers.

[POLNAREFF] - “Looks like we lost the signal.”

The disappointment is evident on your faces.

[KAKYOIN] - “You’re kidding.”

[POLNAREFF] - “Nope, unfortunately I’m not.”

You groan and plop your head on the headrest.

[YOU] - “Man…”

Kakyoin feels bad seeing you so downcast. His eyes fall on your hand that he still has in his grasp, thinking of how to improve your mood. And then an idea hits him.

[KAKYOIN] - “Hey Polnareff, you and Mr Joestar got this car second hand yeah?”

Polnareff looks at him through the rearview mirror.

[POLNAREFF] - “Yeah that’s right.”

He squeezes your hand gently to get your attention. You look up at him.

[KAKYOIN] - “Why don’t you check the glove compartment? Maybe the owner left some discs in there.”

Your eyes widen and you shoot up (almost hitting your head on the roof). His heart melts at the sight of your radiant smile.

[YOU] - “Kakyoin you beautiful genius!”

You grab the sides of his face and give him a peck on the lips. Jotaro and Avdol stifle their laughter as Kakyoin proceeds to malfunction when you turn around to search the compartment.

Opening it up there’s a small pile of discs there, you immediately pick them up and examine them.

[YOU] - “Score!”

You hold up one of the discs to show to Kakyoin.

[YOU] - “They have Wham! in here!”

[JOSEPH] - “What did you just say?”

Looking to the side you see that the old man’s awake, he looks a little startled.

[POLNAREFF] - “You’re finally awake Mr Joestar! I'm surprised you didn’t wake up sooner, we had the music pretty loud.”

Kakyoin leans forward in his seat.

[KAKYOIN] - “Are you ok Mr Joestar?”

You hold up the disc to him.

[YOU] - “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Wham! before.”

[JOSEPH] - “You can’t be serious.”

[AVDOL] - “I’m pretty sure they are Mr Joestar, Wham! is very popular.”

[JOTARO] - “Good grief old man, is your age catching up with you?”

The haunted look doesn’t leave Mr Joestar’s face as you look over the other discs with Kakyoin.

[KAKYOIN] - “What was that one you were showing me the other day… oh yeah! Do they have AC/DC?”

[YOU] - “Mhm! Oooo, they even have Santana.”

Your eyes light up when they land on a particular CD.

[YOU] - “Oh. My. God! Let’s put on Cars!“

[JOSEPH] - “HERMIT PURPLE!”

The discs are suddenly snatched out of your hands with purple vines and flung out the open window. You gawk at Mr Joestar as your only form of entertainment disappears into the dust. Kakyoin does his best to console you for the remainder of the drive.

[sebsallowapologist]

Little Bird || Part 5

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC - 7th Year

Rated: 18+

Warnings:  cursing, being overworked, exiling yourself from your friends. 

Author’s Note: it has come to my attention while re-playing the game that I’ve been spelling Garreth wrong, in my defense autocorrect also thinks its “Gareth” so I feel like I should have a pass.

Little Bird Masterlist

I took my sweet time getting ready that morning, brushing my hair and teeth meticulously before putting on my robes and leaving for breakfast. I’d hoped that by dragging my feet the dining hall would be mostly empty and I could just swipe a few things before going to class. 

Of course - I was not that lucky, Sebastian was standing outside of the Ravenclaw dormitories, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

When he sees me talk out the door he stands up straight, moving his bag filled with his school supplies to his other shoulder. “I was beginning to worry I’d missed you.”

“Running late.” I mumble, not completely over the fight we’d had the evening before. 

Sebastian easily keeps up with me as we walk down the stairs, “I needed to apologize.” He says and I blush, “I was the one who set the Undercroft on fire.” I sigh, embarrassed by my outburst. 

“I deserved it. I had been pushing you too hard and I shouldn’t have done that.” He says, grabbing my arm so we stop walking down the stairs and he can turn to face me. “I’m sorry, Bird.” He says and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly. “I hate when we fight.”

Fighting seems to be the only thing I’m good at lately. 

I want to give in, just squeeze him around the middle as tightly as I can and say it’s all water under the bridge, but his face last night, the pure fear in his features was burned into my brain. I’d never forget it. 

“Sebastian.” I sigh and pull back. “I just. I’m running late, okay?”

“No.”

“What?” 

“I said no, it’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay until I’ve made up with my best friend.” God he’s so fucking stubborn. 

“We’ve made up, Seb. We’re fine. I just really am running late today.” I lie. “I told Professor Weasley I would meet her before lessons started today and I’m afraid won’t make it in time.” 

“O-Oh.” He says, not really able to argue with that, even though I can tell he doesn’t fully believe it. I don’t often lie to him, and it’s making me feel a little sick.

“Maybe we can have lunch? Or do a dinner with the little beasties, yeah? Ominis hasn’t been bothered by the Nifflers in some time. I think we could go for a laugh.” He suggests, pulling at threads.

“Yeah.” I give a half hearted smile. “Maybe we’ll do dinner.” With that as my farewell I turn and start taking the stairs as quickly as I can without breaking out into a full run, and head to a floo flame. 

To make myself into less of a liar I do go toward Professor Weasley’s classroom. Ever since Fig had died my fifth year, she’d become my confidant. She’d been a tremendous help my sixth year when I was stressed out about school, about trying to rebuild my friendships after everything. 

I slip into her classroom and move to the back, knocking on the door. No one was waiting in the room so I assume she didn’t have a class this period. 

She calls for me to come in and I crack open the door, walking into her pristine office. She was always so put together in my eyes, well for someone who was practically running the school without the title of headmaster. “Good Morning, Professor.” I smile lightly at her and she gestures to the little sitting area sitting by a window. “How nice to see you, how has your term been so far?”

I felt the immediate urge to lie, to tell her that everything was alright, that my year was going beautifully. I didn’t want her to think I was failing, but at this point I wasn’t sure what much of an option I had. 

As soon as I opened my mouth the floodgates broke. I told her about me struggling in lessons, about not being able to contain my magic, or stop myself from fighting with my friends. My the end I had fully lost control of my emotions and I was just sobbing into the sleeve of my robes. 

“Oh deary.” She sighs and comes around to sit on the same couch as me, putting her hand around my shoulders and rubbing my arm comfortably. “And on top of all of it.” I sob. “I’ve got bloody boy problems.”

She lets out a laugh that breaks me from my train of thought. “I know it seems silly, given the rest of it, but really these boys are driving me mad.” I giggle a little, wiping the tears off my face, taking deep breaths to calm down. 

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but they never get better.” Professor Weasley smiles. “I didn’t think so.” I sigh. 

“Does one of these mad boys happen to be my nephew?” 

I blush, answering her question for her. “I can tell him to leave you alone if you wish.” She smiles kindly and I shake my head. “No! No- I think he’s actually quite... charming.” God was this awkward to talk about with his aunt. “But-”

“The Sallow boy?” She asks and my mouth drops open, I’m sure I look like a fish out of water. “How did you know that?!”

“As much as we try to act above it all the teachers do talk. We all thought you were...” She trails off and I shrug. “He doesn’t like me like that, and... he knows about my magic how I don’t always... act normally. It scares the Jesus out of him.” I sigh, “I can’t blame him.”

“I doubt that.” She sighs. I shake my head and stand up, looking at the time piece on her desk. I was already 5 minutes late for Charms. 

I wipe my face once more. “Thank you... for speaking with me.” I sigh, I don’t know fi I felt any better, but it was nice to get off my chest. 

The Professor waves her hand and a quill floats up, writing a note on a piece of parchment. “I don’t know how much I can help in the boy department, but let me know if you need help with any lessons, I’m always here. And I’m going to start looking for someone who might be able to help you with that ancient magic.” The note floats over to me and I grab it out of the air, just a pass for being late to class. 

I nod, thanking her once more before heading off to Charms. 

When I get to my class I slip the paper on the Professor’s desk and slip into my seat next to Ominis, Sebastian on his other side. I open my books and Sebastian leans over our friend. “You’ve been crying.”

I ignore him, now was neither the time nor place for this. “Bird talk to me.” He begs, leaning closer to Ominis. “Bird ple-”

“Sebastian I am trying to pay attention to this lesson can you PLEASE stop pretending I don’t exist.” Ominis groans, maybe a touch too loudly. 

“Sallow, Gaunt. Am I boring you?” The Professor asks, the entire class turning to look at us three. I try to hide my red, puffy face from the prying eyes. 

“No, sir.” The two answer at the same time. 

“Five points from Slytherin, more if you continue to ignore my lesson.” He scoffs and turns back to instructing the class. 

Thankfully, Sebastian drops it.

_________

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