#spymaster verse?

[kit-just-kit]

Despite the very obvious attempt at provocation, his veiled threat concerning her children was not risen to. All Kit did was smile at him as she breathed in through her nose, held it for a count of five and then exhaled it only after he'd gone. In truth, it was something of a relief. Yes, it had been her decision to select Sebastian for this mission but damn, he was exhausting! At least this way, she could get the job done without having to tiptoe around his delicate ego any longer. Then she'd be back home - her new home that is, the one he didn't stand the slightest chance of tracking down.

Kit didn't need the reassurance that call brought, though of course she appreciated the intention of her superiors in making it. Her wealth along with that of her parents and Richard, ensured that Poppy and Jack were well beyond the reach of anyone, especially when you factored in the kind of protection an association with SIS brought as well. Sebastian would no sooner find them as he would a warm 'welcome home' from Herr Zeitzler. In fact, he'd probably be back with MI6 very soon, begging them to take him in. Then they'd turn to her yet again, to 'handle' him.

Soon, she'd have a choice to make.

But not tonight.

THE END.

‘And you are of no use to me,’ he replied, taking her in. Her expensive clothes, her expensive clear skin, her defensive, bright eyes that gleamed with a fiercely human sense of righteous justice. She was just like everything else. A mirage. A confidence trick. An elaborate pastiche of kinship. He couldn’t even tell if he had fallen for it. If he had, he never would again.

He got up from the table and dropped his napkin without even looking at the card or the hotel room key. At the mention of the imminent Rome mission, he raised an eyebrow briefly as if with mild interest. He glanced up to meet her eye. ‘I hope it goes well. I’m off to find your children.’

He took the paved byway down behind the kitchen where the staff doors were, which led to an opening in the cliff where a barely visible, overgrown path cut down the sheer rock face towards the marina below. His figure becoming smaller and smaller, until it was out of sight.

Only a few hours later that night the encrypted work phone issued to Kit started to ring. Stripped down only to allow internal calls, it was obvious who it was. ‘Don’t come back to London. We’ve got it under control.’ 

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Go

For day three of @acotar-omegaverse-week :All tied up 

Summary: Azriel helps you with your heat….maybe more than you expected. 

Warnings: smut (18+), alpha/omega dynamics, mating, knots, p in v sex, slightly rough, slight breeding kink, biting, cum eating

WC: 3.4k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

18+ below the cut

You don’t know how you had lost track of the days. You normally kept a perfect record of your cycles, in a house full of alpha’s it was necessary to avoid any awkward situations. But here you were in the middle of a walk with Azriel when you felt that thin layer of sweat bead across your forehead. The way your skin suddenly felt too tight on your body let you know it had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with the fact you had miscounted by a week. 

“Azriel.” You tried to whisper, pulling on the back of his shirt. He turned around and his eyes instantly went to your face, where you could feel the sweat starting to collect. “I need to go home. Now.” His eyes dilated as he caught your scent. The full wave of your heat washes over him as he faces you. He quickly nodded at you before pulling you tight against his chest and winnowing you both back to the river house. 

You were clinging to him so tightly that he had to pry your hands off of him to get you to lay down in your nest. Being very careful not to accidentally step in it. 

“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” 

His words floated through the air. You tried your best to remember what he was talking about. 

“Do you still want my shadows here?” He saved you the energy of having to remember. Now you want to sink into the ground. YOu had asked him at the end of your last heat if you could borrow his shadows. After Nesta had found you basically pawing at Azriel’s door during your last heat, you had the idea of them being around to keep you in check. A guard that wouldn’t be affected by an omega in heat. 

You nodded. Mortification quickly overrides the pain. 

“I need you to say it, my sweet omega.” And those words coming off of his tongue sent a hard cramp through you. Your core clenching around nothing. 

“Yes. Please.” You were forcing yourself to stay seated on the ground, to wrap a blanket tighter around yourself to keep from jumping Azriel. Those two words, my omega, had every part of your brain buzzing. But you were early enough in your heat to remind yourself that Azriel didn’t want you that way. His face when he had found your scent in the hallway last time was more than enough confirmation. 

“Alright. I’ll have the maids bring you some food and water. Okay?” He got up to walk out of your room, some of his shadows staying behind, already curling up around your body as you closed your eyes and tried to get the last little bit of lucid sleep you could get. 

----

Every second was torture. His shadows wrapped around your feet keeping you rooted in place when all you wanted was the male across the house. His shadows smelled like him and it did nothing to soothe your raging omega instincts. It’s not like you haven’t thought of Azriel like that before. That forest, smokey and downright mouthwatering smell that lingered on your skin for days after you would hug him. 

The shadows at least let you have your hands. Which were doing absolutely nothing to help the cramps wracking through your body. You currently have two fingers buried inside of yourself. Slick coated your thighs and the blankets underneath you, but it still wasn’t enough. YOu tried your best to muffle your moans and cries of Azriel’s name. A small part of you was ashamed for even thinking of him but it was impossible to think clearly with the black wisps curled around your ankles and torso. The weight felt wrong. Your body is crying out for a different weight, a warmer weight that wouldn’t be coming. Neither would you apparently. No matter how hard or fast you fucked yourself on your fingers, it still isn’t enough. Fuck it. You were about to crawl out of your nest and beg Azriel to help but the shadows wouldn’t let you move. Tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled against them. 

Just when you were about to give up, you felt one of the shadows brush across your wrist. Settling around your skin in a way that pressed your hand further inside of yourself. Then the pressure was gone, letting your hand slip back out. It happened two more times before you realized what was happening. His shadows were helping you. And it worked for a little. That peak became a little bit closer to your grasp but it slipped away again. Your body all but screaming for Azriel. Having his shadows wasn’t a replacement for the real thing. 

You were writhing in pain less than an hour later. The shadows had let up enough to let you pad off to the bathroom, helping you draw the coldest bath the house would allow for. Again, it helped only for a moment before the water felt too heavy on your skin. You tried to get out, body feeling so weak that you just slumped back down into the half filled tub. Your arms were shaking with how badly your whole body was hurting. You could only pull your knees tight against your chest as sobs started to slip from your mouth. You rubbed at the gland on the side of your neck, itchy and tight. If you had any more energy you would have been shocked with how raised the skin was. But you could only sob harder as you scratched at your mating gland. 

A heat had never hurt this badly before. You had been alive for half a century, this was far from your first time alone. You couldn’t place just what exactly was different this time but something was. A small knock from your door had you flinching. 

“Sweetheart. It’s me.” Azriel’s voice called from the other side of the door. Your body almost buzzed in excitement before horror washed over you. His voice was tight. Signaling that he didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? It was then that you noted none of the familiar shadows were in the room. They must have gone to get him when you failed to get out of the tub. Something that had a small part of you preening. Alpha’ here to take care of us. That small voice in your head purred. But he wasn’t your alpha. Wanted nothing to do with you in that way. Another sob slipped past your lips that had him knocking on the door again. You didn’t answer. More content with sitting in the tub then having to face him. Another moment went by and you heard the door click open. 

The smell from his shadows had been bad but him standing in the doorway was a new level of hell. You tried to scramble to the other side of the giant tub, desperate to put any space between the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to help you get out. Is that okay?” He paused, hands outstretched towards you. You ran your eyes up and down his tall frame and tried to remember how to speak. You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Azriel picked up a towel that was on the ground and approached the tub. When he picked you up, he made sure that none of your skin touched. He was so repulsed by you that he didn’t even glance at your nakedness. You knew he didn’t feel that way about you but it hurt something inside of you to see him not even react. He was an alpha, he should at least have a little reaction to an omega in heat. Regardless of how he felt about you. 

You tried to blink back the tears but you were in too much pain to stop them. You just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be wrapped in his arms. You felt the slight fan of air from his wings as they flapped anxiously behind him. He deposited you back into your nest, carefully wrapping the towel around you to keep you covered. You expected him to run out of the room after but he was lingering at the edge of your bed. Watching as you buried yourself into the blankets. 

“You don’t have to stay. Az. I know you don’t want to be here.” You sniffled, instantly kicking yourself for how pathetic you sounded. His wings twitched again. 

“What do you mean, princess?” 

“I know you don’t want to be here right now. So just go. Thank you for helping me”

He froze. And for the first time you looked at him. His eyebrows pulled together, making his forehead wrinkle slightly. His cheeks were slightly flushed and you continued looking down. You sucked in a breath as you realized he was rock hard. You couldn’t force your eyes to look away. Not even as he spoke. 

“I thought you didn’t want me.” His words were tight. “Until my shadows started telling me every detail. Reporting back to me how sweetly you were calling my name. They were telling me how good you smelled, how wet you were for me.” His voice dropped an octave and it had your skin flushing. You didn’t have a response. 

“Do you want me to help you, omega?” You had to be dreaming. You must have fallen asleep or maybe you hit your head while you were trying to get out of the tub and this was a hallucination. Either way, you knew it couldn’t be real. Azriel wasn’t here in your room, inches from your nest offering to help you with your heat. 

“Omega?” The word was sharper this time and had you answering before you could think. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want you to help me, alpha.” And he was all over you then. His lips caught yours and you could have sobbed in relief. His hands chased away the scorching heat that trailed over your skin. But did nothing to help the emptiness you felt between your legs. He nipped at your bottom lip, teeth digging in in a way that had your back arching off of the bed. His scarred hands snaked up to rest on your breast. A hand going up to squeeze your nipple. You moaned his name and he pulled away from you, panting. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me? Saw the word and I’ll walk away.” 

A twinge of panic rushed through you at the idea of him leaving. So you didn't answer, only reached out for the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you. You flipped him onto his back and crawled into his lap. 

“Yes. Yes. I’ve wanted this for so long.” You were trailing kisses over his collarbone. You started undoing the buttons on his shirt, kissing each inch of newly exposed skin until he was pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. He lifted you with one hand as you helped him slide off his pants. Not caring where they ended up as you saw his cock smack against his abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, slick dripping down your leg. He was perfect. Thick and long, a slight curve. And at the base you could already see the thicker red skin of his knot. 

You didn’t waste any time before you took him in your hand, lifting your hips up to guide him to your entrance. 

“Need to stretch you out first.” He gritted, a hand on your hip stilling your motion. 

“No. Need you now. Want your knot, alpha.” You whined, your free hand trying to bat the hand on your hip away. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t letting you sink down. You felt so empty. So close to what you wanted and he wasn’t going to let you have it. 

“I’m yours.” He said as he locked eyes with you. His hand didn’t leave but the force behind it was gone. Letting you, finally, fill yourself up with him. Your brain had stopped working. All thoughts are gone from your mind except for how perfect he felt inside of you. You chased away the last of the cramps as you started to ride him. Rocking your hips back and forth against him. A string of curses and garbled versions of his name left your lips as he tangled a hand into your hair, pulling your head back. His tongue lightly swiped over your scent gland and you exploded around him. Your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. That didn’t stop either of you. In one motion he had you pushed onto your hands and knees. The impact cushioned by the plush blankets underneath you. His thrusts were ruthless. The room filled with the sound of your bodies colliding with each other. Slick was still leaking down your leg as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your back against his chest. His free hand trailed between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit until you were bucking into him. His lips were all over your neck until they landed near your ear. 

“Look at how perfectly you take my cock. Think of how good you’ll take my knot.” You whined and he nipped at your earlobe. “Do you like the idea of that? Me filling you up until you're round with my kids?” 

“Yes. Fuck. Wanna be full of you alpha.” You screamed for him. You could already feel your second orgasm rushing toward you, having no moment to come down. You could feel the edges of his knot started to catch on each thrust. You were about to beg for more, for him to fuck you harder, but a sharp feeling on your neck had you freezing in place. Not the right side of your neck, not the one that would bind you two together. Not the side you wanted him to bite. 

“Mark me, alpha. Want you. Bite me. Please. Az. Please.” You babbled. Tears streaming down your face again, but this time because you wanted him so badly. He was right there but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him permanently. Wanted your scents to fill the room, wrapped together. 

“Want me to mark this pretty neck, sweet omega?” You shook your head, crying out your pleas. He growled, the sound rattling your body. 

“Fuck. Just a little longer. Gonna cum with me?” You would have done anything he said at this moment. His knot almost locking you in place now. He was close and you could only moan and whimper as you felt it stretching you with every thrust. A few more well timed pushes of his hips and you fell apart. Right at the same time you felt him filling you up. The same moment you felt his teeth latch into the right side of your neck. Your vision blurred as tears sprung in your eyes again. The feeling so perfect that you barreled straight into your third orgasm. His mouth was clamped onto your shoulder, tongue soothing the bleeding skin. He rocked his hips back and forth as much as the knot would allow. You swore you could feel him pushing his cum further into you. 

You reached back and pulled Azriel off of your neck, joining your lips. You could taste your blood on his lips but you didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything else as you pulled him closer to you, tried to turn your body towards him as much as your current position would allow for. 

The tow of you stayed like that until his knot went down. Until he was pulling out of you. You felt his cum drip down your leg and whimpered at the feeling of losing it. 

Azriel only kissed your forehead, kissed down the path the tears had left on your face. He kept kissing down past your collarbone, your chest, until strong hands were pushing you to lay down for him. He placed sucking kisses to your plush thighs, down your legs and back up. This time his tongue collecting the trails of slick that coated your thighs. All the way until he got to your dripping cunt. You were about to say something to him, about to plead for him to hurry up when he licked a long stripe through your folds. Your hands shot to the back of his head as his tongue darted into your opening. Pushing his cum back into you. 

“Alpha.” You cried out. Eyes screwed closed as you felt wave after wave of pleasure coarse through you. There was something else there, some new edge of desire that had you reeling. You could feel his own heightened emotions. Arousal leaked off of him as he reached down to stroke his cock. He moaned into your folds, making your back arch off of the bed as you started to ride his face. He took every thrust perfectly. Not missing a beat as you used him to get off. Loud noises of your slick filling the room as you ate you out like a man starved. It was eventually too much, you were teetering from the edge again and knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed him inside you again.

You pulled him off of you, a motion that had him growling until you parted your legs for him. It took him no time at all to cage you in, arms on either side of your head. You wrapped your hand around his leaking cock and guided him to your entrance. He pushed in so slowly you were a writhing mess underneath him as he sheathed himself full inside of you. HIs own moans matching yours as he threw his head back. Eyes squeezed closed as he started to move again. You went to wrap your legs around his waist before he stopped you, wrapping a hand around your knee to push it up against your chest. You didn;t think it was possible for him to go deeper but as he threw your foot over your shoulder you swore your vision blacked out at the pleasure. You couldn’t move. Only take everything he gave you. Each punished thrust of his hips against yours and you mewling against him. He took his time, long strong thrusts that had you clenching around him. Your nails clawed at his back, searching for any purchase against the torturous pace he set. 

“Good omega. Being so good for me. Can you take my knot again?”  

Your voice was long gone, hoarse from the screams and cries of pleasure so you could only nod, could only dig your nails into him harder to show him your agreement. He grabbed your other knee and pressed it against your chest, pulling you into a mating press that had you gasping for breath around the pleasure. You didn’t think you could cum again, but Azriel’s long strokes had you writhing underneath him. Begging for more. 

“Gonna fill you up again.” He growled in your ear. And then his knot caught again. The feeling pulling shudders from your body. A soft cry escaped your mouth as you came again. Not as hard as the first times but enough that it felt you panting underneath him. Clawing at his hair to bring his lips to yours again. 

Once both of you had calmed down a touch, he rolled the two of you over so you were on your side, legs tucked in behind yours perfectly. A part of you preened at the way he fit so well behind you, the way the two of you seemed to fit together. LIke you were made for each other. 

“I think we very well are.” He said into your ear, so close that his breath on your neck made you shudder. You didn’t think you had said the words out loud but all questions left your mind as he starting trailing kisses on the back of your neck, along the angry red skin of your newly marked mating gland. And that little press of his tongue, the way your scents filled the room. Not two scents anymore but one perfectly blended thing. It was that fact that had you drifting off to sleep in his arms. Heat perfectly quelled for the time being.

tag list: @ninthcircleofprythian @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories @readychilledwine @milswrites @daycourtofficial @tsunami-of-tears

[quccninchains]

| @meaercies sent: "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were flirting with me."

{☾} Tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind delicately elongated ears, Alicent glanced over her shoulder. Amusement glimmered in her eyes as they walk the tiled corridor to her greenhouse. "Could you blame me?"

She wasn't surprised that Rhys had sent his SPYMASTER to her manor. After the disaster that was Tamlin and Feyre's would-be...wedding, her place as Tamlin's heir seemed more and more concrete. Especially as the High Lord fell into deep despair. The thought fills her with a pang of sorrow and she makes a mental note to go and visit her cousin. They'd never been particularly close--his temper made for a poor playmate as children. But he was still family and she should see how he was coping.

If he would see her.

The soft blue of her gown brushes the shining floors as they continue their walk. Stopping before the ornate glass doors to her greenhouse, Alicent folded her arms across her chest and arched a brow. "If Rhysand had wanted to play rough, he would have sent Cassian to seek my court and thoughts. You," she muses, gently waving to him with her slender hand.

"You are the HONEYPOT," she teases, crinkling her nose as she shakes her head. Turning, she pushes the doors open to look at her flowers. Water began sprinkling overhead, gently splattering the blooms. She lets out a soft sigh of pleasure, turning back to face her guest. "So, while I enjoy flirting with you, Azriel and I would be content to follow through, I think it would save our honor if you just tell me what you're here for."

[astrxthesiai]

Jasper's Tags

⇢✶assumptions about jasper 《Jasper’s results》

[Questionnaire Results]

⇢✶king of the skies 《Jasper’s headcanons》

[Headcanons]

⇢✶whispers on the wind 《Jasper’s musings》

[Musings]

⇢✶the king in a game of chess 《Jasper’s answers》

[Ask Replies]

⇢✶ challenges at sea《Jasper’s rp replies》

[RP Replies]

⇢✶shantys to fall asleep to 《Jasper’s soundtrack》

[Soundtrack]

⇢✶scales and feathers 《Jasper’s aesthetics 》

[Aesthetics]

⇢✶about the adventurer 《Jasper Corvino》

[Main tag]

⇢✶ravenqueen pirate spymaster 《Jasper’s main verse》

[Main Verse - One Piece]

⇢✶unrequited king of the skies 《Jasper’s fandomless》

[Fandomless Verse - Amphiptere]

[kit-just-kit]

@pupil-of-law

cold cash divine

[serpentandlily]

Untouchable X - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister!Reader

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court’s spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he’d eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on—with Elain, your brother’s mate’s sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that—more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: smut and fluff, pure fluff 

Author’s note: omfg guyssss, I can’t believe this series has come to an end! I had so much fun writing it and I hope y’all had just as much fun reading it! Thanks for all the love and support you guys have given me throughout it all! Hope this is a fitting ending! 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part X: The Finale 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“Are you sure about this?”

You looked at Azriel, at the vulnerability in his warm hazel eyes, at the love and adoration they held but the lingering insecurity dampened it just enough that you turned to him fully. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, Azriel,” you whispered, gently. 

“I just don’t want you to feel rushed,” he sighed. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to make this decision before you’re ready. I’ve waited five hundred years for you, I can wait more. I can wait until the sun and moon collide, princess, as long as you’ll be mine in the end.” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. You were standing outside the doors that would lead to the Priestess’ chapel. Just a few steps away from being mated—from being tied together for all of eternity. 

“I’ve waited enough. We’ve waited enough,” you replied. “I want this, Azriel. I want you. I can scream it from the rooftops if you wish. Nothing will change my mind about you.” 

His lips twitched into a smile. “Okay, okay. Then, let’s not keep the Priestess waiting.” 

He pushed open the doors to the chapel, holding them open for you as you strode inside, the small train of your dress trailing behind you as you went. Your mother had sewn you this dress before she died, for this very moment. It was pure white with a long, sheer draping cape covered in silver diamonds. The bodice had a sheer underbust with those same diamonds carefully placed to make a beautiful, intricate pattern. The skirt fell to the floor, shimmering in the faelights of the chapel also covered in diamonds. It was beautiful, truly, and Azriel’s breath had been stolen away the moment he had seen you in it. You looked like the goddess of the moon, herself. 

Your brother, who you allowed to help you get ready since you had decided on a private mating ceremony, had teared up at the sight, himself. Rhysand had given you a loving speech before sending you and Azriel off to your ceremony knowing he wouldn’t see the two of you for at least a few weeks as you would leave immediately after for your mating honeymoon. 

Azriel himself was dressed in all black formal wear, finely made and tailored to his body perfectly. Your mouth had gone dry when he had stepped out of the shadows, his dark hair tousled and looking like a true Angel of Death. The dark side of your moon. 

Standing here now before the Priestess as she read out verses of love and unity, you couldn’t focus on anything but your mate. He stared back at you with the same intensity, his wings held out proudly and his shadows encasing the two of you, swirling around in delight. 

“You may say your vows, now,” the Priestess declared, shutting her book and bringing out the ribbon that was to be tied around your wrists and hands. Azriel held out his hand for you and you took it, holding them up for the Priestess who began to wrap the ribbon around them. 

“I have prayed to the stars every night since the moment I fell in love with you, Azriel, that a day might come where you’d be mine and I’d be yours,” you breathed out. “Despite all that stood between us, the magic that kept you from me all these years, I wouldn’t change a single thing if it meant that this was our ending. I will love you until I no longer exist, through death and all that comes after.” 

“There would be no shadow without light,” Azriel whispered, resting his forehead against yours as you stared up at him. “And you have been my light, princess. I live and breathe for you. My body, my soul, my mind, were made to love you and only you. Because you are the light in whose shadows I exist in. You are the guiding star that I will follow until the end of all things. I vow to love and cherish you for all of eternity. Nothing shall keep us apart from this moment on. No magic, no God, no death can separate us. You are mine as I am yours.” 

You blinked the tears in your eyes away as the Priestess finally tied off the ribbon with a smile. “As witness to your love, I bless thee with the sanctity of the Mother and all that is holy. May your love serve as a reminder of the good this world can offer. You may seal your vows with a kiss.” 

And so you did. The kiss Azriel gave you was full of love and passion—a promise to all that he planned to give you. The Priestess held out a small tray with the pastry you had baked for him—a small pear tart that you knew was his favorite sweet treat. She winked as you took it from her before winnowing away to allow you privacy. 

And the Gods knew you’d need it if the heated look Azriel was giving you could be seen from heaven.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You barely made it through the door to the villa the two of you would be staying in for an indefinite amount of time before Azriel’s lips crashed against yours. You met him with the same intensity as he pressed you against the wall, caging you in with his taut body. 

He groaned as you parted your lips for him, allowing him the chance to taste you—to claim your mouth as his. One of his hands stayed against the wall while the other traveled down the length of your body, somehow finding your leg in the mess of your skirt and hooking it around him. 

Still, there were far too many layers between the two of you. Your body was on fire with want, with need. Sparks were igniting in your lower stomach, a terrible ache that only Azriel could soothe was taking over. The mating bond was singing its beautiful tune. 

“Bed,” you managed to mumble out between his kisses. “Now.” 

His shadows encased you once more, taking the two of you to the lush bedroom upstairs. You pushed him towards the bed but he stopped you, pulling away from you as you whined in disapproval. 

“No teasing,” you pouted. 

Azriel grinned. The sight of it was so breathtaking. 

“I assure you, princess, I have no intention other than ravishing you tonight.” 

He twisted you so your back was to him and he gently began to unbutton the bodice of your dress, pressing a kiss each time a new inch of skin was exposed to him. You melted into his delicate touch, allowing him to undress you completely until you were naked before him. 

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” he growled against your skin, pressing kisses down the length of your back until he was on his knees. He placed his hands on your bare waist and turned you around to face him, staring up at you with a reverence that had your heart jumping in your chest. 

He kissed your stomach, hugging your body with his arms. You could feel his muscles flexing—his hazel eyes so dilated, they appeared black—and you knew he was holding himself back for a moment. 

“There is no part of you that I am going to leave untouched, princess,” he groaned, his eyes trailing down your body, full of hunger. “Now that I can touch you, I’m going to make you wholly mine.” 

“What are you waiting for?” You whispered, so full of need. Your words had the desired effect, his restraint finally slipping. He pushed you backwards until your knees hit the bed and you fell down on the soft cushion, your hair fanning around your head like a halo. 

Azriel rested on his forearms above you, capturing your lips again with a new frenzy that left you panting. A hand slipped underneath your neck, tilting your head back so he could deepen the kiss, caressing your tongue with his. He tasted as good as sin.

His lips began to trail down your throat, sucking on the tender skin and leaving love marks in their wake. Your hands slipped into his hair, fisting his dark locks between your fingers and he continued his path down your body, staying true to his own words that no part of you would go untouched tonight. 

He explored every inch of you, leaving you to moan and squirm underneath him. You arched into his touch, wanting more. So much more. 

“Azriel, please,” you whined as the ache between your legs became unbearable. Azriel looked up at you with his dark eyes from where he had taken your breast into his mouth. 

“Keep begging, princess,” he growled. “You will not rush me.” 

Your head fell back against the pillow as he started his ministrations on your breast again, using his hand to caress the other one. His kisses were soft but his hands were not. Not as they groped and squeezed you with a bruising grip that only heated you further. As if having handfuls of you was simply not enough. 

His mouth traveled down your stomach, licking and biting a path on your skin until he pulled away, standing up at the edge of the bed. You rose onto your elbows, eyes glazed with lust. 

Azriel drank in the sight of you laying bare before him, a muscle in his jaw flexing, his hands itching to touch you again. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “My mate. My love. All mine.” 

“I’m yours,” you whimpered, sounding far too needy. “Please, take me.” 

He leaned over, running his hands down the length of your body before he pressed a kiss against your belly again. “My mate.”

Another kiss between your hips. “Mine.”

He fell to his knees, pushing your legs apart so he could kiss the inside of your thigh. “All mine.” 

And then he hooked his arms around your thighs and yanked you to the edge of the bed. You let out a gasp, raising onto your elbows again to look at him. He kissed the back of your knee before moving his way up your thigh. 

“I need to taste you, princess.” His voice was a near whine as he left marks all along your leg—sucking and biting. You moaned his name repeatedly, begging and begging him just like he wanted. 

That set him off because a moment later, he was devouring you with a hunger only a mate could have. Your wanton moans had him palming himself through his pants, trying to relieve some pressure. He sucked and licked your core, not stopping until you fell over the edge, his name coming out of your mouth like a prayer.  

You were still coming down from the high as he made his way back up to you, kissing your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. You pulled back, grabbing his face in your hand. Gods, he was so beautiful. Everything about him was so beautiful. 

Your heart fluttered at the love in his eyes, you were smiling without even realizing it. You kissed him as you reached for the buttons on his shirt. “Take this off. Now.”

“Anything for you, princess.” He smiled against your lips and helped you undress him as fast as he could until he was as naked as you. 

You could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach. 

You ran your hands down his chided chest, raking your nails over his skin. He groaned at your touch and you pressed a kiss to his jaw, his throat, enjoying the noises you were causing him to make. Your hands continued their way down his body until you were about to finally grasp his cock but he grabbed your wrists in one hand and slammed them into the mattress above your head. 

You let out a noise of displeasure.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Azriel groaned. “I need you. Now.” 

You hissed as he took his cock in his hands and lined it up against your entrance. He hovered for a second, glancing at you, seeking permission one last time. 

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

Azriel held himself up over you with a hand on either side of your head, lightly brushing his lips against yours. He slowly slid inside of you, inch by inch. Savoring the way you wrapped around him. You groaned, wrapping your hands around his biceps, your nails digging into his skin at the slight pain. 

But the pain was worth the pleasure. Was worth the feeling of your bodies becoming one. You wanted that feeling to never end. 

He stopped once he was buried inside of you, allowing you a moment to adjust as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, breathing deeply.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin. “You are mine. My mate, my love.”

“And you are mine,” you whispered back. 

“Until the end,” he agreed. 

He started to move, pulling all the way out and thrusting slowly back in. Azriel let out a curse and bit down on your neck, his canines piercing your skin. He licked the new wound as he pulled back out and thrust again. 

“Gods, please,” you moaned at the feeling of him inside of you. 

“No gods here to beg, princess,”Azriel growled. “Just me.” 

He fully unleashed himself then, his restraint snapping, as he lost himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him. You closed your eyes, melting into the mattress. He took every part of you, claimed every inch of you with him. You weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. 

With every frenzied thrust came a declaration of how much he loved you, how good you felt, how beautiful you looked with him buried inside of you, between his growls of pleasure. You became hyper aware of every brush of his skin, the feeling of his warm breath against your neck. 

The pleasure inside of you grew and grew with every stroke of his cock until his name was slipping from your mouth with a string of curses and pleas. Your hands trailed his body, down his back until you reached his wings. He groaned as your fingertips brushed against the cool membrane, his pace quickening. 

His thrusts grew more frenzied at your touch as the bond shined like starlight between the two of you. It was blinding, all consuming. 

“I love you,” Azriel murmured between his kisses and it was those words that finally sent you over the edge. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, your darkness taking over the room as you reached a high you’d never felt before. 

At the feel of you coming on his cock, tightening and pulsing around him, Azriel fell over the edge right after you with one final thrust, burying himself inside of you as a hot stream of his cum filled you so thoroughly.

Both of you were panting as you came down from that high. Azriel collapsed on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging you to him. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heart that beat to the same rhythm as yours. The same rhythm of your mating bond’s mesmerizing song. 

Azriel lazily ran his hand up and down your spine. His touch was soothing and you never wanted it to stop. Not when you had once been untouchable to him. No, you wanted to feel his skin against yours at every waking moment and you knew he felt the same way by the way he clung to you now. 

“I love you,” you whispered, tracing over his tattoos with a finger. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled into your hair. “You are my everything. I’m never letting you go again now that I have you.” 

“Good,” you smiled, propping yourself up to look at him. “Because I'm never letting you go either.” 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

100 years later

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your heart was warm as you sat cuddled against Azriel, watching your family open their solstice presents. Your hands were intertwined, as they always were since the day the two of you had your mating ceremony. Azriel had never considered himself a publicly affectionate person but after centuries of not being able to touch you, he would never stop now that he could—no matter who was around. 

Rhysand and Feyre sat on a settee across from you guys. Nyx and Selene stood beside them, smiling down at their two younger siblings as they ripped open their presents from them. Cassian and Nesta were on a couch next to them, a bundled up babe held in her arms. 

Mor and Emerie were giggling in the corner together, like they were in their own little world. Elain stood with Lucien, three younglings that shared the same red hair running around her legs with laughter. Even Amren was smiling, sat with Varian. 

You placed a hand on your bulging tummy. You were due any day now with your first babe with your mate. Azriel placed a scarred hand over yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. Azriel’s shadows wrapped around your belly in a protective cocoon of sorts and you batted at them with a huff. 

You had thought your brother had gone overboard with protecting Feyre all the times she was pregnant but Azriel by far took the cake. 

The baby wiggled, causing both of you to gasp lightly at the feel. 

“I can’t wait to hold him,” Azriel murmured to you. “He’s going to be beautiful. Just like you.” 

You smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “I think he’s going to look just like his papa.”

Azriel chuckled, the tips of his ears turning a bit pink. He had been fussing over you and the baby since day one. He had built the entire nursery himself, with his own hands, claiming he didn’t trust anyone else to make things for your child. 

“Either way he’ll be perfect,” Azriel said, kissing the side of your head. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, lovingly rubbing your belly. “He will.” 

And three days later, the next chapter of yours and Azriel’s love story began. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The end. 

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

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[acourtofmusings]

Penumbra - Series Introduction

pə-ˈnəm-brē : a space of partial illumination between the perfect shadow on all sides and the full light; a grey area

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Total Word Count: tbd

Summary: The inner circle has been sorely lacking a well-versed scholar, and luckily for them Y/N happens to bump into Nesta at a local romance book lovers convention. Her arrival comes just in time to flank reports that an ally of the Night Court is plotting something world-shattering. Despite every warning bell going off in her mind, she offers her assistance and finds herself enveloped in a dangerous game. Everything is at stake, and Y/N finds herself with a whole lot to lose when a certain Spymaster steps out of the shadows and into her light.

A/N: My falling-asleep fantasy scenarios have been extra intriguing recently, so naturally I'm turning to the world of fanfiction. For now, enjoy this teaser.

Chapter One (coming soon)

If there had ever been one thing that proved itself a constant in your life it was your need for the concrete. Black or white, those were the options. But ever since you had found yourself intertwined with the rambunctious group sitting with you in the large VIP booth at Ritas, things had steadily been muddling up into a daunting shade of grey. You smile at the sound of Cassian's boisterous laughter and take another sip from the drink you have been nursing for the better part of an hour. Nesta's calculated gaze lands on you from her place next to her mate.

"Y/N," she purrs, "You feeling okay?"

You nod and set your drink back down on the tabletop, tracing the rim with your finger. Your gaze begins a slow sweep across the other members of the inner circle, all sucked into their own individual conversations.

"I'm fine, Nesta. Just...taking it all in."

She lets a corner of her mouth quirk up, her subtle version of a well-meaning smile. "You'll get used to the noise eventually. They can get a bit caught up in themselves, but they mean well. Give it time."

Your gaze eventually settles onto the brooding spymaster who is currently nursing a double scotch on the rocks with the same level of disinterest as you. Shadows curl lazily over his shoulders, framed by powerful wings that are tucked tight against his back. He's leaning back into the cushion of the booth seat, listening to Mor's umpteenth dramatic tale of the evening. The movement of his shadows camouflages the swirls of black ink peeking from underneath his button down, and you take a moment to try and decipher what parts of the mesmerizing display are alive and which are tattooed. You fail miserably, reminding you again just how much you can't stand the nuance that surrounds this group of powerful fae. You force your eyes back over to your new friend, who now holds a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should put down all of those ancient texts and become a spy instead."

You furrow your brow at her suggestion.

"Why would I do something like that?"

She chuckles to herself and pulls her own glass to her lips, finishing the remainder of the brightly colored drink. "You certainly enjoy starring just as much as he does."

You feel heat creep across your neck as you realize you were caught, and hope the swig of your drink that you take is enough for her to think it's a flush from the alcohol. You twist your face at the taste and shiver slightly as the burn runs down your throat.

"Thats what you get for ordering the well liquor," Nesta teases, "Rhys would happily add you to his tab if you stopped being so fucking stubborn. And don't think that amusing display gets you off the hook with me."

Cassian's wings perk up, and the nosy general turns to the two of you. "What display? What did I miss?" He leans down and speaks not-so-lowly into his mate's ear. "Is she finally relaxing? The both of you are way too boring for my taste right now." You feel heat burning up the sides of your neck and flooding onto your cheeks. Maybe your nervousness was coming off a bit standoffish, but you hated to think it was affecting anyone else's evening.

Cassian flags down a waitress and points between you and Nesta. "Excuse me miss, these two need to catch up. Get me two of something good and strong, please." He looks to you and wiggles his eyebrows "Add it to the High Lord's tab."

You begin to protest, looking apologetically to the waitress. "Oh, no thats okay, you really don't have to--"

"--add it..." Cassian insists, "to the High Lord's tab." The waitress smiles and nods, walking away to input the order. Cassian winks at you, smiling warmly. "You're sitting with the big boys now, sweets, no need to shy away from it. Rhys has money coming out of his ass, might as well put it to good use."

Rhys hears his name coming from his intoxicated brother and also turns his attention to you, violet eyes dancing with the same wicked amusement that often adorns Nesta's gaze.

"Ease off Cas," he chides, "I'm not that rich." The High Lord of the Night Court smirks. "Relax, Y/N, I'm not worried about what you spend on my account tonight. Or any night, for that matter. You're doing us all a massive favor, it's the least I can do."

You breath a sigh of relief and smile gently at him, and he returns it before looking back over to Feyre and Amren. Perhaps things were grey now, but maybe with enough time they could sort themselves out. Maybe you could actually find yourself settling into the rhythm of this group. As you feel yourself ease up, the waitress comes back with two bubbling cocktails.

A pair of hazel eyes train intently on you from the opposite end of the booth, marking your conversation and body language with acute awareness. Your timing was too coincidental. He had an odd feeling about you, one that his shadows seemed to enjoy egging on with their consistent pleas.

Need to know more. Let us learn more.

Azriel took a sip of his scotch, gaze still locked onto your form and only half listening to the tipsy giggling of his friends around him.

[gwynniethenymph]

Do you think so? Part 1.

Pairing: Azriel x Gwyneth Berdara.

Word count: 1212 words.

Notes: Sooo... here is jealous Azriel and a one shot that accidentally became a two chapter story! I'm very nervous about posting this since it's the first story I write in years, but I'm also very excited. Constructive criticism is very welcomed! Don't know if I should post this in ao3, but I'll think about it. Also, Azriel is very, very bad at feelings in this first part.

~~~

"Is it normal for the sun to be so... bright?” Cassian complained for the fifth time in an hour. Azriel only stared at him. His shadows writhed in agitation too, but there was little he could do.

The Summer Court offered oceans of the purest water and clear, hot days. Oddly enough, the Shadowsinger sometimes appreciated this kind of weather, though Illyrian leathers were unbearable in the heat. He missed his leathers.

Despite the initially pleasant atmosphere, the air around them crackled with raw power and fear. War was imminent, and so was betrayal, hence the week-long Courts Meeting. The Spymaster just couldn’t understand why war meetings were disguised as luxurious balls and quick alliances as amicable friendships.

“Courtier's shit,” Rhys had answered with a scoff. They needed to keep the common people calm while orchestrating swift relocations to the south, far from the borders between Spring and the Human Lands. The urgency of such activities was probably the only reason Tarquin tolerated Cassian's presence.

Azriel had plenty of work to do as well, trying to keep his High Lord informed of every glance and conversation. He sighed. It would be easier if that devilish, mischievous little nymph wasn’t so damn... distracting. And offensively good at her job.

With the growing popularity of the Valkyries Division and her remarkable contribution against the Illyrian Revolution, Gwyn had become a respected and well-known name across Prythian. According to Amren, she was also quick-witted, well-versed in history and politics, and "strikingly beautiful". Before understanding her line of thought, Azriel had agreed and added how good of a spy the priestess was.

As a result, Gwyn had been assigned to secure Tarquin's alliance and friendship. Considering how closely they danced at the moment, Azriel thought he might have to remind her of the "friendship" part. Or perhaps punch Tarquin and get himself banned from Summer.

It would be worth it, though.

The dark-skinned High Lord held the Valkyrie against his chest, one hand around her slim waist as they spun. The silk of Gwyn's gown resembled a cobalt ocean, the halter neckline exposing the toned muscles of her freckled arms. If she were closer, he would see her huge, mesmerizing eyes lined with gold and her pink, plump lips. She looked like a siren from the tales Azriel’s mother used to tell him—a beauty like no other, ready to enchant unsuspecting sailors and drag them to the depths of the sea.

Tarquin looked quite happy in his "sailor" position. Azriel would be happy too. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her, couldn't ignore the pang in his chest. Gwyn had become too important to him in the last few years, their time together reserved not only for training and sparring, but for the deepest conversations he’d ever had, for silly jokes and friendly flirting.

Well, he had believed the flirting was not that friendly anymore, but as Nesta and Emerie giggled and whispered about the dancing couple, the Shadowsinger concluded he must have been wrong. As that terrible, awful dance ended and Gwyn separated from the High Lord with a courtesy, Azriel found himself relaxing, his shoulders dropping for a mere moment before he realized how many heads turned towards her.

“Twenty and seven, Singer.”

“What?”

“Twenty and seven males turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer. Would you be interested in knowing the number of females too?”

Azriel sighed. “No, thank you.”

“Twenty and three females turned their heads to look at Our Light, Singer.”

“Okay, no more counting.”

“This equals fifty heads turned. Dismissing, of course, the heads that didn’t need to be turned because they were already looking in Our Light’s direction, Singer. This includes your head, Singer.”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “Please go check on the Vanserras.”

“Of course, Singer.”

As his shadows went silent and the Spymaster sighed, Gwyn reached the group with a smile. The golden sunlight streaming through the tall, arched windows hit her eyes, making them seem like a gateway to the shallow seas of Adriata. Emerie and Nesta grabbed each of her arms and proceeded to gossip and giggle:

"Who could imagine Tarquin uses dancing as a form of foreplay?" Lady death grinned, mischievously.

Even the tips of Gwyn's ears went red, her eyes going wide "It- it was not! We just danced. Like... friends. Very good friends."

Emerie snickered wildly "I am your friend for longer and never received this type of treatment. You are hurting my feelings."

"Oh, shush. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I know, Gwynnie. He looked at you the same way I do when you look too pretty."

Gwyn's mouth went slightly agape. "Wouldn't that make the look even more... friendly?"

Cassian, who had been observing the conversation, pointedly looked at his mate and nodded. "Wouldn't it, Nesta?"

Caught in the act, Nesta cleared her throat before uttering a simple, "No". Gwyn considered her friend for a moment before shaking her head.

Azriel expected her to say the relationship with Tarquin - and, well, Nesta - was nothing but friendly. That their were all going insane and seeing things that weren't there. He expected her to shrug it off. Instead, Gwyn's eyes glinted with interest.

"I'm not going to dive into your last comment, but... You think so? That he looks at me... like that?"

The two Valkyries looked at Gwyn like she had just convinced Helion to give them a pegasus. Azriel's shadows were whispering about murder and something else the Spymaster couldn't quite catch given the zooming in his ears. His fists and jaw were clenched so tightly he feared it may break. She... she truly liked Tarquin?

"SO YOU LIKE HIM!"

As if it was possible, Gwyn went even more red. "Perhaps, but-"

Azriel couldn't help himself from murmuring "That's not what you should be worried about."

Gwyn's eyes found his "Oh. I- Sorry?"

He shouldn't be saying this. It was only meant to hurt her like he was hurting. But, again, he simply couldn't help himself. "I said you shouldn't be worried about silly romantic... whatever. You have a job to do, and seducing Tarquin is not a part of it."

Their small group went deadly silent, Nesta shooting death glares at him. "I... I was not trying to... seduce him. I'm doing my job perfectly well."

Between the hurt he saw in her eyes before, there was anger emerging. One he matched quite well. "Well, then keep your- your heart and feelings out of it. And your body at least a few inches separated from his."

This time, her mouth was fully agape. Gwyn stuttered from a moment, trying to find an answer, when Tarquin suddenly surged behind her.

"Gwyn? Is this a good moment? There's something I want to show you."

She turned around to face the High Lord and, before Azriel could growl at him or stop her, one of his shadows - the only one that actually listened to the Shadowsinger sometimes - nervously darted across his face, whispering about something about Beron.

Azriel turned around, scanning the room in search of the Autumn High Lord, only to find him having a mildly heated conversation with Helion. But when he returned to excuse himself from the group, Gwyn and Tarquin were gone.

[kit-just-kit]

"I work for whoever has need of me, Sebastian" she replied simply, taking off her jacket and setting it on the back of one of the chairs set by the table. Quite why he'd chosen the floor to sit on, she'd no idea. But she wouldn't sit there, not in this outfit.

At his question, she turned her head to one of the three guards at the door - overkill Kit believed, given the state of Reed right now - and nodded an assent. Attention fixed back on Sebastion, she added "We'll find you some love. But no drinking alone.....come sit with me here and we'll have some together, yes?". With that, she sat down, crossing her legs at the knee and waiting until he joined. It may have been a question she'd asked of him but the unspoken inflection was clear - you want the vodka, get up off the floor and imbibe it at the table like a human being.

Guard number three came back, a bottle of Stoylichnaya, two shot glasses and a small dish with lime wedges on a tray set down on the table top. It wasn't her favoured brand, but it'd do in a pinch. Kit poured, then waited again, smiling patiently.

He hadn’t seen this face in over a year. When he saw it through the bars of the cell, he felt nothing. No resentment, nor relief, nor anything much. His eyes had lost what little gravity they had ever had, his lips were bloodless, his muscles deteriorated and his athletic frame now merely thin and littered with a treasury of cuts and bruises. Still he refused to tell MI6 what had happened to him. Sebastian had experienced far worse pain than these injuries, and in the circumstances it hardly even registered. His spymaster was dead. Not just disappeared, not imprisoned, not even just a false identity. He was dead. Sebastian had watched it happen. That he was still alive was only by the grace of British Intelligence. He would much rather he wasn’t, frankly. But when they’d found him bleeding on the floor of some innocent pensioner’s flat a few miles out from the wreckage of the assassination in Budapest he’d been unconscious, and so had little choice in the matter.

He swallowed thickly, his pale eyes flitting up to Prince from where he was sat, elbows resting on his knees, on the floor. ‘I didn’t know you worked for South House.’ His voice was thin and soft. Dr Prince looked the opposite. She looked successful. She looked expensive. He wondered whether she was going to interrogate him. ‘Do you have any vodka?’

[ofduskanddreams]

Take Me If You Can [teaser]

Happy Halloween! This is not a trick, just a treat for all of you <3 Kinky canon-verse Azris is coming soon, though not quite in time to qualify as a kinktober fic. Minors DNI. Please be mindful of the warnings before clicking beyond the break. This isn't as edited as my usual stuff so please be kind to me.

I used my usual Azris taglist for this but if this snippet isn't your vibe than please disregard the tag. Have a great Halloween :)

CONTENT WARNINGS: CNC (Consensual Non-Consent,) violence, fighting, chasing/hunting, bondage, primal play, making the fae be FAE™, degradation, cutting off clothes, teasing, faebane is involved, toxic masculinity.

Azriel feels the faebane enter his bloodstream immediately, his shadows fade and the stones on the backs of his hands lose their light. As usual, his first reaction is panic. And since Azriel is no coward, he’ll choose fight over literal flight every time. His lungs tighten, gaze searching for any sign of the Autumn male as his heart beats too quickly. Even though this is something he chose, something he asked for, has begged for before, it still goes against every instinct that has kept him alive for the past five and a half centuries.

“You know you can make things easier for yourself any time, Shadowsinger.”

Eris’s voice echoes off the trees, the bastard is using a spell that makes it impossible for Azriel to guess his location because the sound surrounds him.

“Just say the word,” Eris taunts, “or stay still for once like a good little brute and let me catch you.”

Stay still? Like hell he will. Azriel takes off, sprinting across the cushion of fallen needles and moss.

He sidesteps a tree root arching out of the loamy earth, air already sawing in and out of his lungs.

Eris’s laugh sounds from somewhere in front of him. Azriel skids on the soil, turning so quickly he has to push himself off a sap-sticky trunk to stop from crashing into it.

“Running is pointless, you know?”

And Azriel hates himself for the way that coldly arrogant voice, those unmistakably posh vowels, sends a bolt of desire shooting down his spine.

“You will never outrun me. If you try to hide, I will find you. If you try to fly away, I will winnow to you in an instant and take you someplace where no one will hear the way you’ll be screaming for me by the end of the night.”

Azriel runs faster, eyes adjusting to the rapidly darkening forest. He thinks there’s a lake nearby and starts heading in that direction. If he can get to any kind of clearing, he’ll stand a better chance.

Eris doesn’t stop trying to bait him, still projecting his voice so it hits Azriel from every direction.

“You’re nothing without your magic, Shadowsinger. You’re just a helpless male. A coward running instead of facing me. Without your shadows, without your power, you’re useless. What good is a spymaster who can’t spy? A soldier who’s too scared to fight?”

Azriel sees a glimmer through the trees up ahead—moonlight on rippling water.

“What chance do you, a powerless brute, have against me—a high fae prince, the heir to the Autumn Court?” Eris laughs again, “The fact of the matter is that you don’t. I will always find you, Azriel.”

And fuck but the surety in Eris’s voice makes Azriel’s cock stiffen in his leathers. He palms himself hard enough to hurt—not the good kind of hurt—because he can’t afford an erection slowing him down, not when the lake is so close.

“And, when I catch you, I’ll show you exactly what use you’ll be to me.”

It’s a threat. It’s a promise.

Azriel breaks through the tree line and onto the gravelly shore.

But he hasn’t been thinking ahead, doesn’t know where to go because the only options are the water, back into the forest, or into the sky. Flying is the surest way to be caught. Illyrian wings are a hindrance to swimming. The forest means he loses any advantage this clear line of sight gives him.

Though these thoughts fly through his mind in an instant, that’s all it takes. A warm weight slams into him and sends both of their bodies crashing onto the gravel. Azriel lands on his back and the stones bite into his wings, dozens of small cuts on the sensitive membrane open as one—a symphony of exquisitely bright pain blooming.

“Hello, little bat,” Eris sneers above him, auburn curls falling onto his forehead from the chase. The princeling cocks his head, “Giving in so soon?”

“Never,” Azriel growls, slamming a fist into Eris’s side, just below his ribs and rearing up. His forehead meets Eris’s with a crack, shards of light splinter through his vision but Azriel works on muscle memory, throwing Eris off balance and flipping them.

But as he reaches to grab a fistful of Eris’s hair and pin his head in place, the male smirks. Heat wraps around Azriel’s extended wrist as the world darkens, the lake dissolves and he can’t breathe, can’t….

His shoulders burn as his arms are stretched above him to their limit, the rough bark of a tree trunk presses into the open cut on his cheek and Azriel hisses as the hand on his nape presses harder.

“Pathetic,” Eris scoffs, releasing his head with a shove.

Azriel tries to hit him, kick him, something, but his legs won’t move. Glancing down, he sees ropes of flame wrapped around his ankles, glowing orange against the darkness.

“Thinking you could run from me? Honestly,” from somewhere behind him Eris tuts disapprovingly, “this level of delusion would be cute if it weren’t so pitiful.”

“Fuck you,” Azriel cranes his neck and spits but it lands a few feet short of Eris’s polished boots.

“Oh, don’t worry little bat, you will. Try that again. If you make it, I’ll let you lick them clean.”

Despite himself, Azriel’s getting hard. He presses his forehead against the uneven bark, trying to stop the blood from rushing out of his head.

“Oh, I think you like the sound of that,” Eris croons, close enough for Azriel to feel the warmth of his breath on the shell of his ear. “Is that what you are, Azriel? Nothing better than a dog panting at my feet?”

Azriel throws his head back hoping to hit Eris, but all he succeeds in doing is pulling a muscle.

Then there’s cool metal and the familiar edge of a gemstone dragging down the central tendon of his right wing and Azriel’s breath leaves his lungs all at once as he arches into the touch.

Eris chuckles, “Look at you. The famed spymaster of the Night Court, the legendary shadowsinger, and you barely put up a fight. Already so desperate for me.”

“I’m not done fighting,” Azriel sneers, struggling against the restraints.

“Oh but you are,” Eris sounds gleeful. The heat of him presses Azriel into the unyielding tree. Azriel can’t help the noise that slips past his lips when Eris reaches into his leathers without warning and wraps his fingers around Azriel’s cock and strokes leisurely. “Just as I thought.”

The heat of Eris’s skin, the cool metal of his rings, makes Azriel shudder. Eris’s teeth graze the tattoos on his neck and Azriel’s torn between trying to headbutt him again and giving him better access to the sensitive expanse of skin.

“I know how much you hate this,” condescension laces Eris’s words. “You hate that I’m the only one who can give you what you need.” He sighs, releasing Azriel’s cock. “It must be so frustrating not being able to allow yourself the things you want, needing someone else to give them to you, needing me to be that someone.”

A vertical line of pressure lands between Azriel’s shoulder blades—a knife, larger than the one with the faebane.

“Stop,” he grits out, though it lacks conviction.

The moment Eris tackled him onto the lakeshore, Azriel realized how long it’s been since their last game, and just how tired he is. It’s been months since Nyx was born—since Azriel almost lost a third of his family in a single moment and has been doing everything in his power since then to make sure everyone is safe.

The blade cuts through the laces running down his spine, the night air eliciting goosebumps on the newly exposed skin.

“Eris,” Azriel warns. The knife stills halfway through its journey.

“Yes, Azriel?”

The waiting blade, the lack of derision in the words—Azriel doesn’t need to be told that Eris is giving him a chance to stop this now.

He should take it. Azriel should never have let things get this far. Eris is right that a part of him loathes how much he craves this, craves him—the male he’s hated for so long, who’s impossibly complicated, whose masks are so layered that he doesn’t know where they end and Eris begins.

This goes against everything he’s believed his whole life: vulnerability is weakness, weakness is shameful. The last place he should ever want to be is at someone else’s mercy. He’s Rhysand’s spymaster for fuck’s sake—Azriel is the one who binds, he’s the one who wields the blade. It’s who he’s always been: the person everyone needs him to be

— — —full fic coming soon-ish!

tagging : @iftheshoef1tz @damedechance @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @foundress0fnothing @krem-does-stuff @octobers-veryown @born-to-riot @melonsfantasyworld @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @lady-riel @chunkypossum @catboyjamesbond @queercontrarian @asnowfern @valkyrieassassin @wilde-knight @xtaketwox @itsthedoodle @areyoudreaminof @thelovelymadone @the-lonelybarricade @ablogofsapphicpanic @separatist-apologist @fieldofdaisiies @melphss @bubybubsters @nestas-workwife

if you want to be added to/removed from my azris taglist just let me know :)

[presidenthades]

Here’s the behind-the-scenes for Lavender Ch. 6!

Usual disclaimer that these thoughts aren’t necessarily canonical to the fic verse until/unless I write them into the actual story.

Aegon’s undercover adventures are some of my favorite things to write. If this chapter weren’t monstrously long, I would’ve written a lot more about what exactly Aegon did while sleuthing. Editing for concision is painful. 🥲

Aemond being terrible at going undercover is another of my favorite things to write ahahaha.

In the books, Dorne is very ethnically diverse. You have salty Dornish like the Martells who tend to live near the coast, sandy Dornish who live in the desert, and stony Dornish in the mountains who look and act more like Andals than like the Rhoynar. So it’s possible for Aegon to pass as a stony Dornishman (the term isn’t coined until later in the timeline, so I don’t use it in the text) as long as he doesn’t draw too much attention.

Originally I was going to make Aliandra extremely flirty with Aegon, to the point that she brazenly crosses the line of propriety. Then I realized that would play into the “promiscuous sex-centered Dornish” trope that’s prevalent in fandom, so I backtracked. I also looked critically at how Aliandra is described in F&B. Although I usually think the “unreliable narrator” part of the Dance is exaggerated, I think it is plausible (and probable) that in-world maesters would not write about Aliandra, a foreign Dornishwoman, in a sympathetic light. She’s depicted as coming onto Alyn Velaryon, who is depicted as being brave and noble and true to Baela. But Alyn is a serial cheater, so if something happened between him and Aliandra, I doubt he was totally innocent. So instead of making Aliandra a homewrecker, I just made her flirty and a bit boy-crazy for Valyrian men. She’s a rebellious 16yo, so I think her doing the medieval equivalent of putting up band posters of her family’s ancestral enemy tracks. 😂

S1 Mysaria joins the spymaster business as a way to make money off of rich people willing to pay for her info. In this verse, she gets so good at it that she has a few of Viserys’s personal servants on her payroll, hence her ability to find out about the journal etc. Of course Larys doesn’t like this, because a) she’s infringing on his turf and b) if she knows about his scheming with Viserys, she might tell someone. He acts against her after the moon tea, so she has to flee quickly and ends up in Dorne. But she has limited resources and she gets sick (something like tuberculosis), so she grows desperate enough to broker a deal with Aegon. She’s realized she can’t return to KL as long as Viserys (and Larys) is in charge, so she hopes allying with Aegon will give her a fighting chance.

“It may shock you to hear this, but I don’t know every YiTish who lives in King’s Landing.” This was my wry little joke about the IRL microaggression where people sometimes say, “Oh you’re [insert racial/ethnic minority]? Do you know [insert name of person also in that racial/ethnic minority]?” Aegon wasn’t really asking that; it was a ruse to see if she’s lying about Myranda. But I imagine Mysaria gets asked about all the YiTish people in KL a lot. To be fair, the YiTish community in KL is probably very small in this era, but it’s not like they have social media to keep tabs on each other.

“Old men, young men, rich men, poor men, hale men, crippled men.” It’s not a coincidence that Mysaria mentioned the last one re: “tempting even the most calculating man to act unwisely” around Jace.

Larys’s spies have orders to stop Aegon and Mysaria at all costs from spreading news about the plot against Aegon. When they realize Aegon and Mysaria have found each other, the spies take advantage of the Dornish people’s anger about the Targs and foment further unrest. Larys also has spies inside Sunspear, who are the reason it’s so easy for the mob to infiltrate the castle.

Mysaria’s parting message about Aegon being “Lord Protector of the Realm” rather than just the Highborns is another foreshadowing of Aegon the Smallfolk King. Also, even though she’s been on the run, she’s heard bits and pieces about the Smallfolk in KL favoring Aegon, which contributes to her decision to ally with him.

Qoren is barely a character in this fic, but he is yet another example of one of the themes in this story: parents are (or should be) willing to sacrifice everything for their children. His only scene is him giving himself up to the rioters to buy his kids time to escape.

The assailant is of course on Larys’s payroll (lack of tongue is the big giveaway). He also uses show!Jace’s trick at Driftmark of throwing sand in Aemond’s face to temporarily blind him.

Sunfyre is the MVP, carrying five people in his saddle. Bro needs a back massage after this.

Vhagar and the Martells’ face-off makes me cackle. They are all definitely remembering the first Dornish War.

One of Viserys’s first journal entries is about being “pissed about something Daemon did in a brothel.” This is of course a reference to the S1E4 brothel scene with Rhaenyra. In this universe, Otto doesn’t immediately tattle to Viserys about it. Instead Otto leverages the information to persuade Viserys that he can’t keep Rhaenyra as heir.

Viserys really loved Lyonel Strong. Larys takes advantage by pretending his Lyonel 2.0, which helps win Viserys’s favor. Larys also hands over a supposed copy of Daenys’s Dreams and Portents, left behind by Queen Rhaena at Harrenhal. Is this a real copy? It could be! Some of the prophecies are very prescient from an IRL reader’s POV, particularly about the false Aegon (the alleged Aegon VI in the books who’s probably actually a Blackfyre, sponsored by the Golden Company) and the mother of dragons (Daenerys, obviously).

I’m of the belief that prophecies in fiction are best utilized to make things WORSE, not better. So here, Viserys’s obsession with TPTWP almost wrecks his own family, when all he needed to do was nothing and things would be fine on their own.

Aegon casually demanding Dornish subservience on a whim is so on brand for him. 😭 He has a good instinct for when opportunities arise for him to seize. The problem, as highlighted in this chapter, is he doesn’t always want to seize those opportunities. He would rather be selfish and go home to Jace. But she’s his conscience now, and he thinks she would want him to secure Dorne. (TBH she would want that; most people would not foresee Viserys disinheriting Aegon for it.)

Otto would 10000% have come up with the best PR campaign of the century if he was able to see the Dornish treaty first.

We don’t get a canon description of Rhaenys and Visenya’s crowns, so I took thematic liberties. Aegon ends up giving Rhaenys’s crown to Jace, so I wanted it to be something suitable for Jace. The OG Targ trio had a Velaryon mother, so I figured Rhaenys may have decided to honor their mother with her crown.

Ravens are trained by maesters in Oldtown, and then they’re cared for by maesters. Sunspear has a maester, but Dorne and the Reach are such historical enemies that I can’t imagine maesters/ravens being prevalent in Dorne before Dorne joins the Seven Kingdoms. So it’s hard for Aegon to receive news from KL before he returns to Sunspear.

Aegon intentionally used Jace’s handkerchief as a white flag to her father and grandmother because symbolism. Who says he isn’t a politician!

Viserys never tells Aegon about the song of ice and fire because he doesn’t really want Aegon as his heir. But him only mentioning Rhaenyra as “mother of dragons” in his journal shows that he never particularly wanted her as heir either; it was all a means to fulfill the prophecy.

When Aegon offers to make Rhaenyra his Hand, she plays with some of the roses in the room because she’s thinking about what Jace would want. 🌹 Also, I feel like Rhaenyra would genuinely be happiest living an independent life. She doesn’t want the throne because she wants to rule, she wants it because it’s validation that her father loves her. So Rhaenyra doesn’t immediately accept Aegon’s offer; she doesn’t actually want to rule as Hand.

“I am not so precious to him.” Rhaenyra plays with the Daemon necklace when she says this, so “him” doesn’t necessarily mean Corlys.

Aegon doesn’t trust Viserys (for good reason) so he refuses to go into the Red Keep where anything could happen to him. Instead, our Smallfolk King insists on having everything happen in the open, to be judged by the people. Also, witnesses are a good safety measure.

“Kings must place the greater good above our own wants. We all must make sacrifices for the sake of the realm.” Viserys doesn’t actually exemplify what he preaches—but Aegon does in the very next moment, when he offers to give up his claim.

“I do not hate you.” Viserys genuinely believes this, though he can’t bring himself to say he loves Aegon. He didn’t condone Larys sending the assassin after Aegon—but Viserys didn’t ask Larys for details either, so he’s not a paragon of fatherly virtue. As long as Viserys keeps his hands clean, he can claim innocence.

As one commenter said, “Daemon jumpscare!” Daemon has haunted the narrative thus far, but he hasn’t really been a character in this fic. As readers know, Daemon never has a chance to cause trouble in Lavender…but maybe in a sequel. 👀

Aegon’s efforts with the walkway project and general willingness to hang out with the plebs pay off this chapter. I love the scene where all the Smallfolk give him little gifts to try to make him feel better. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s the best they can afford to give away, which says a lot. Compare this to Aegon’s highborn “friends” who don’t even reply to his messages…

Rhaenyra is baffled by how much the Smallfolk love Aegon because, as evidenced by S1E4, she’s never been one to mingle with Smallfolk.

Jace hears about the party that Aegon is throwing on his dad’s front lawn and decides to help him out. People love free food, so she sends Gyles to stir up the crowd in Aegon’s favor some more.

Alicent has a small scene where she holds Aegon’s hands and stares as if counting his fingers. This is a reference to how lots of newborn parents like to count their babies’ fingers and toes.

Jace sees Gyles and Ronnel every day when they serve her pies, so she’s able to plot with them without attracting suspicion. Aegon’s friendship with the Smallfolk leads to Viserys’s downfall. So poetic.

Hippocras is a spiced wine that book!Viserys enjoys drinking. It was also believed to have aphrodisiac qualities. There’s the unspoken implication in this chapter that when Viserys drinks hippocras, he usually asks Alicent to come over for a sleepover. 💀 Jace knows this. Usually Jace would sympathize with Alicent, but right now Jace is thinking,“Alicent, Aegon is your son, please stop crying for 5 minutes and DO SOMETHING to save him.” Now that Jace has her own son, she is a bit more brutal about pushing Alicent to make sacrifices for her children. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jace actively arranged for Viserys to be served hippocras… 👀

At the very end of this chapter, Alicent FINALLY gets her Green Dress moment in this universe. She’s stopped dressing in black as if she’s in pseudo-mourning. Now she’s waging war against Viserys, and boy is she efficient at it. She’s described as being in disarray and dressing less modestly because she seduced Viserys, waited for him to fall asleep, then held a pillow over his face. But Alicent is very religious, so she feels guilty AF about it and has a breakdown in public.

See Chapter 7 commentary here.

[hoboblaidd]

Verses (and loose timeline)

I will not be doing verses outside of Dragon Age.

In general, I will not accommodate a partner’s expansive worldbuilding that includes custom HoF, Hawke, and Inquisitor, etc. That leaves me as a small part of your large story and is not fair in a collaborative writing partnership. If something is super important to you, talk to me ooc. Otherwise, I default to my romanced Lavellan as Inquisitor, and to sunny’s Nanna as HoF.

cut for length and full Veilguard spoilers

Note: We don’t know how long the Elvhenan timeline lasts, but there’s a very good chance it’s something like 8,000-10,000 years, and that’s just considering the time after the ‘Firstborn’ elves took bodies.

PRIMORDIAL / : Before the Firstborn elves took bodies, they were spirits. Solas is a spirit of Wisdom who is intwined with Mythal, a spirit of Benevolence. I can't imagine doing any threads in this but it's here for posterity. Note that I don’t think he was referred to as ‘Solas’ here. He was Wisdom. ‘Solas’ came later. This verse lasts from the beginning of spirits to the moment Mythal has Solas take a body and become ‘real.’ I think this is when he also received her vallaslin - a mark that he was created by Mythal instead of the other evanuris.

Elvhenan

ELVHENAN / Mythal’s Second: During the Titan war and up to the evanuris’ apotheosis. Solas is Mythal’s most trusted advisor, spymaster, and general. Solas ends the war by creating the lyrium dagger and severing the Titans’ dreams/will, and their pain creates the Blight. The events of the war corrupt him into Pride. After the Titan war and as Elvhenan is built into a real empire, he remains in Mythal’s service and keeps that role, though he operates much more clandestinely to keep Mythal in a position of power. Lot of infighting, courtly intrigue, etc. He earns the derogatory nickname of Mythal’s lapdog, which is where his eventual ‘Wolf’ title comes from. Note that there is a deep and abiding love between him and Mythal, but there is no romantic relationship between Solas and Mythal on this blog. This verse spans centuries, maybe even millennia.

ELVHENAN / Rebel: From the evanuris' apotheosis to Mythal’s death. Solas rebels against the evanuris when they proclaim themselves gods. He burns off his vallaslin. He gathers other groups of rebels under his banner. The goal is to free and protect slaves, and undermine the gods’ control over the empire until they can be toppled. Felassan is his main general, and together they coordinate the whole thing. He is styled as a ‘god’ by the rebellion’s leadership in order to strengthen their position in the eyes of the People. The Dread Wolf is a thorn in the side of the evanuris. This is when most tales of Fen’harel take place - ‘betraying’ the forgotten ones, tangling with Andruil, Elgar’nan, and the other evanuris, cutting down generals and warlords, etc. Note that this rebellion lasts for centuries, maybe even millennia, and he gets more ruthless as time goes on.

ELVHENAN / the Veil: When the gods are desperate enough to chop him down, they turn to the Blight. Solas enlists the help of Mythal to stop the Blight, but she’s murdered by the evanuris when investigating the claims. Solas’ rebellion turns into a ruthless instrument of vengeance. They are also fighting the Blight, a losing battle. Once Solas gets the lyrium dagger during the Disruption memory, he binds the gods to the Veil and imprisons them and the blight in the Black/Golden city. This verse probably lasts for about a century or two.

UTHENERA /: (aka nap time). The thousands of years between the Veil going up and the end of his slumber. Solas is completely out of commission after the Veil. It took all his power to imprison the gods and he’s incredibly weak. He can still traverse people's dreams. Ends after the Felassan incident in TME. All interactions will be in the Fade. This verse lasts for millennia, through every recorded Age until 9:39-9:40 Dragon.

Inquisition

INQUISITION / Year 1: The year before Inquisition when he finally woke up in the Dragon Age. He’s wandering southern Thedas mostly, trying to catch up on what he missed and figuring out how to return to full power. He’s pure apostate hobo here. He works with the few agents he has to maneuver the orb to Corypheus so he can regain his power. This verse lasts only one year.

INQUISITION / : No one knows he's the Dread Wolf, and he plays his role as a quasi-advisor and expert on all things related to the Fade. Taking a page from Bishop’s book, unless I’m interacting with an Inquisitor, I will slot in my romanced Lavellan by default. This verse lasts the year of the game.

INQUISITION / Interim: This is the two years between the defeat of Corypheus and the Exalted Council. Solas is not known as the Dread Wolf, but his powers are considerable. He's nominally "on the run" from the Inquisition, but in truth he's purposefully laying low. He's building up a considerable roster of agents and spies, and taking full control of the eluvians back.

TRESPASSER /: What it says on the tin. Two years after Inquisition, the events at the Exalted Council take place and Solas is outed as the Dread Wolf.

Veilguard

VEILGUARD / Interim: The eight (?) years between Trespasser and Veilguard. Solas is crafting his plans and recruiting/utilizing his agents. He puts his agents (elven or spirits) in place before the ritual starts to help minimize the damage. This verse lasts 8-10 years, and it ends just as he starts the ritual. 

VEILGUARD /: The events of the game, which Solas spends primarily trapped in the regret prison he built for the remaining evanuris. He is connected by blood magic to Rook, but other characters can talk with him in places where the Veil is thin, at Fen'harel altars, if Blighted (aka Wardens - think how the evanuris used the "old gods" and Blight to communicate), and if they're near Rook and sensitive to spirits, ala Emmrich and Spite. His goal is to escape, kill the gods, and tear down the Veil. Unless I’m interacting with an Inquisitor, I will slot in my romanced Lavellan by default. This verse lasts however long the game does, which is frustratingly unclear.

Post-Veilguard (dependent on world state - will default to Atonement if not specified)

VEILGUARD / Atonement: Solas must have had the catharsis with the Mythal fragment, otherwise he considers himself still in her service and won’t agree to keep the Veil up. Solas is working to help with the Blight and the Titan problem. He spends the first few years in the regret prison before finally figuring out how to escape it. Unless I’m interacting with an Inquisitor, I will slot in my romanced Lavellan by default, and she will be in the prison with him. He can be spoken to in places where the Veil is thin, at Fen’harel altars, and with Blighted people. Once Solas breaks out of Fade jail, he's still committed to his atonement and, if bound to the Veil, continues to protect it, but he's out and mostly in the Fade/Lighthouse. He said he'd safeguard the Veil while breathing - he never said where that breathing had to be done.

VEILGUARD / Vengeance: This applies to all other endings. Solas is actively working to escape. He may be bound to the Veil, but there are other ways to burn the world. Tricked Solas might be marginally kinder than fight Solas, but he is not a happy camper. 

[violet-fire-cat]

👀

Hehe I'm so glad I got sent a few of these! I'm gonna have fun rambling about aus now! Lots of rambling. I'm not kidding. This one at least is uh- long. Oops.

As I said before, a lot of my AUs are Ethubs focused, but hopefully you guys don't mind that! 😅

Soooo, let's see, which one should I start with, hmmmmmm. Let's go with one I was talking about with a friend a lot a few weeks ago!

And that would be -

Assassin Creed AU 🗡️ Well- it's inspired by Assassin's Creed anyway. I am not well versed enough on the series lore to do anything that sticks to it too closely. I wanted to play around with ideas a bit anyway. But I started playing one of the games again a while ago and that's where the ideas came from.

Assassin AUs have been done before, yes. But this one is mine!

Etho is an assassin, somewhere in the 18th/19th century, and has been with the Assassin's Brotherhood for most of his life. He's very good at what he does. He's smart, quick, and stealthy. Like a ghost with a knife. You won't know he's there until his blade has found it's way into your throat.

The Brotherhood consists of various other Hermits, including; Doc - retired assassin now serving as the groups main medic Tango - his targets often go out with a bang. or with fire. Grian - death from above Cleo - master of poisons and deadly concoctions Impulse - weaponsmith, where you go for a new knife or gun Zedaph - creator of gadgets and nifty tools and Mumbo - the spymaster. Kinda. Not really. Far too squeamish for assassin work. So he handles information gathering, sorting out jobs and targets, etc

They work together to take out criminals and other bad people who are causing issues in the area. As well as probably aiming to solve some sort of ancient mystery like in the games. (Though I haven't figured that part out yet.)

The story is mostly focused on Etho, a lot of what I have is about his and Bdubs' relationship too, but there's other stuff as well. Rambling continues under the cut ~

Etho doesn't interact with civillians much. But then he meets Bdubs. Bdubs is not affiliated with the Brotherhood. He's a craftsman. He works with wood, leather, and sometimes metal, making tools and clothes mostly, but weaopns too, and selling them in his little shop. Etho goes there on a whim looking for quick repairs or a replacement.

Bdubs is a pretty ordinary guy just going about his life. He has no idea what's in store for him when he meets Etho that day.

Etho is- odd. Tall and mysterious, and dressed in strange clothes. Bdubs doesn't know what to make of him. But treats him like any other customer. He does what's asked of him, Etho pays well. And he finds himself with a regular visitor.

Etho isn't entirely sure why he keeps going back there. He knows other people with the same skillset that he could go to instead. But there's something about Bdubs... There's something drawing Etho to him in a way he's never really experienced before.

Gradually, they become friends. And with time, that friendship progresses. Etho slowly falls in love with Bdubs, and realises that he's so screwed. He's never been in love before. And these- these- emotions. Are not easy to deal with! He doesn't know how to handle Bdubs being so gentle with him, so kind and smiling so sweetly.

And. Yeah. Things develop. A very touch starved Etho craves the gentleness and kindness that Bdubs gives him so easily. Etho has friends, sure, but this is different. Someone detatched from the violence of his work. Someone willing to care for him and love him despite all that he is. It's like nothing he's ever experienced before.

Bdubs never expected to get tangled up with someone like Etho. Danger surrounds him. Etho could leave one day and just. Never come back. But behind all that. Behind the layers of Trained Killer. There's a sweet, slightly shy guy that Bdubs can't help but love.

It's not all plain sailing though. No no. There's drama and chaos too of course. The nature of Etho's work kind of requires it. One time Etho returns to base badly hurt, and in a state of 'I thought I was going to die and all I wanted was to see you again,' he's asking Doc, who's looking after him, for Bdubs. Another time, Bdubs gets captured by the bad guys and Etho and the other assassin's have to rescue him. There's heartbreak as events leave Etho thinking that Bdubs doesn't want to see him anymore. And the difficulty of tracking down an assassin who doesn't want to be found. Etho becomes over protective at times, which Bdubs isn't fond of. But panic ensues when that protectiveness leads to Etho hurting Bdubs accidentally. Bdubs doesn't know what to think of seeing Etho kill someone. Knowing it happens is one thing, actually seeing it happen is another.

There's ups and downs, and I want there to be some overarching mission that Etho and the rest of the Assassin's are working towards. But I don't know what that is yet. I need to brainstorm and play the games more I think.

However, meanwhile, in the present day. Another young man, funnily enough also known as 'Etho', has somehow gotten himself roped into an investigation being done on his ansestor. A- distant cousin. Or something. He thinks. But the guy was an assassin. Which is cool. Fancy technology he'd never heard of allows him to relive the 'genetic memories' of the assassin. See what he experienced and learn about his life. About the things he did, the people he knew, and the events he was a part of. Hoping it'll help them find answers to something that's going on now.

This Etho, nerdy computer science graduate Etho, is very confused but overall rather fascinated by it all. Though he realises quickly there's a lot more at stake here than facts and figures about centuries old history. He learns a lot about his assassin ancestor and the life he lived. Maybe... Maybe too much. He's not sure that he wanted to know about the more- private parts of the guys life. It's interesting that the man the assassin was in love with looked a lot like one of the technicians working on this investigation, though. It's probably just a coincidence. The odds of it being anything else are far, far too small. But he is rather handsome, so surely you can't blame Etho for having a bit of a crush on him...

And- I am going to stop there or I could ramble all night dfghj. I love this AU a lot, if you couldn't tell. I'm probably forgetting things, but this is already more than enough to get an idea of how things go! There's assassins! And drama! And romance! And it's so much fun!

Thank you Anon for giving me an excuse to ramble endlessly about my AU! If you want to ask more about this au though then please do! Aaand maybe I'll draw something for it at some point too, I've been wanting to for a while hehe!

[kit-just-kit]

*I got rid of some of my verses that were no longer in use and so, am now thinking of adding some more. Here are some ideas I've been toying with:

Spymaster - exclusive with @pupil-of-law. MVKit who now works for an as yet unspecified arm of British Secret Services (or does she?) as the handler of Sebastian Reed, Assassin at large.

The Fallen Woman - Post her failed time at University, Kit never returned home (same as CW verse), but segued into escorting instead of grifting. Now runs her own very high-end establishments in London, New York and possibly other international capitals with many staff but isn't averse to still taking clients herself for the right (i.e. exorbitantly large) price. Probably has many investors who have crime connections too.

Empath - I know, I know, I've always bee, very resistant to rp'ing anything 'super'fied but, in some verses where some kind of special ability is needed then from now on, Kit will be both a declared Empath but also, an undeclared Emotion Manipulator....meaning that she can make people feel what she wants them too. She tries very hard to only ever use this side of her powers for good. But sometimes she might waver........

As ever, I am more than willing to accept any ideas anyone might have for me too so please, shoot me an IM or ask with suggestions?*

[illusivesoul]

A new chapter of my Femslash February 2022 fics, a year later lol. Morrigan/Leliana angsty smut.

Words: 2076 Read it on AO3

The flame engulfed the tip of the incense rod. Waiting a moment for the fire to warm it, Leliana blew into it to put it out, and the red hot tip of the rod emanated a powerful scent that began filling the rookery.

The spymaster sat against the stone wall, eyes closed as she let herself be enveloped by the smell of the incense and the warmth of the candles, though the comforting gaze of the statue of Andraste gave her all the warmth she needed.

She had come to value these moments in the dying hours of the day. All the crows were away, and they would begin arriving as soon as the sun started to crest over the horizon. Her agents were resting or away on missions.

.

For a couple hours, she would have the comforting silence she had come to enjoy, with only the moonlight that crept through the clouds and the window to keep her company.

She would have the silence and shadows that had become her home.

Closing her eyes as she kneeled in front of Andraste, she let the words fill her mind.

"The army of the faithful gathered before the gates of the city

Wept openly. And from among them voices raised

In threnody for Andraste wreathed in flame.

Though the fire enveloped her like a shroud, and the heat from the blaze

Reached across the field, Andraste was silent and did not cry out.

And the legionnaires who stood guard nearby

Were shaken, and began to whisper among themselves:

"Is she truly the servant of a god?"

The loud caw that rang across the rookery made the verses of the Chant vanish from her mind, and she instinctively found herself holding her dagger in front of her, her mind and body honed to confront threats at any moment should they arise.

Yet her eyes found nothing but the emptiness that had been her comfort just moments before.

A loud swooping sound was heard, and darkness enveloped the room as the candles were snuffed out, with only a few rays of moonlight preventing the darkness from completely overtaking the rookery.

Another caw, and when the brief noise of a spell vanished, a familiar presence made itself felt.

“I can smell you, witch”

“But can you see me, nightingale?” The voice whispered by her ear as a cold hand placed itself softly on top of her eyes, blocking her vision as another softly wrapped itself around her neck, the unnatural cold creeping into her skin making it clear that there was magic at work.

Leliana felt her resolve waiver, her grip on the dagger loosening as her hands fell to her side as Morrigan’s mouth found her neck, making a desperate gasp leave the spymaster’s lips as a deep kiss that would surely leave a mark was etched into her skin.

And the sensations stopped.

Opening her eyes and swiftly turning around, she was met by a smirking Morrigan , a large black robe covering all of her body and a half smile set on the witch’s face, enjoying the anger she saw rising on the redhead’s face.

“So predictable. You always did have that weak spot on your neck”

“Why are you here, Morrigan?”

“Must we play this game every time, Leliana? We both know I’m not here to join you in your praying to a statue and your silent maker” 

Leliana’s gaze followed Morrigan as she started to pace around the rookery, her long fingers tracing the shape of the now darkened Andraste.

"Shouldn't you have already run back to Celene's side? She must miss you greatly. I know she's found quite a lot of uses for your tongue, most of which go far beyond advice on the magical and the arcane"

Morrigan let out a brief but loud laugh "The Inquisition's dreaded spymaster jealous of the empress of Orlais? My, my. Jealousy is such an unbecoming trait, Leliana. I do understand your frustration though. I imagine being the left hand of the Divine and a woman of faith doesn't let you use your tongue in the ways that you so much enjoy" 

Morrigan's eyes drifted to the dagger in Leliana's hand, seeing the fingers tighten around its handle before she sheathed it.

"Would you have preferred that I'd be advising the Inquisitor instead? So we could gaze angrily at each other and exchange barbs during the strategy meetings? Getting you all worked up so that you can then push me into the many dark corners of this castle and…"

“Get out”

“The Inquisitor told me how you described me. ‘She's ruthless. Capable of anything’. Surprised you didn’t tell him that I ate children and set towns on fire for fun. Though you’re not one to tell stories anymore, from what I’ve heard”

“As if I would need to exaggerate to describe your… wickedness. I merely made the inquisitor aware that he should not let his guard down around you. The rotten apple doesn’t fall from the tree, after all” Leliana replied as she stepped closer to the witch.

Morrigan huffed, but Leliana noticed the way the witch’s fists clenched “Looks like your tongue hasn’t dulled. Shame you hardly put it to use other than to pray to the nothingness”

“You’d do well to leave now”

Morrigan leaned into the statue, and with a subtle movement, the robe partly opened, letting Leliana see enough to make whatever resolve she had left vanish.

“Make me, spymaster”

Those who oppose thee

Shall know the wrath of heaven.

Field and forest shall burn,

The spymaster's gauntlets hit the ground as Leliana pushed Morrigan against the wall, their mouths locked into a fiery kiss that made them both gasp loudly for air. This was the part that the witch always enjoyed the most, seeing Leliana's barely contained anger transform into unbridled passion. She pushed the woman's head downwards, Leliana gasping in pleasure as her lips moved from Morrigan's neck to the space between her breasts. Her head lingered there. Morrigan softly kneaded the red hair, and they didn't move for a moment. Too soft, too intimate, too vulnerable for her liking.

She nudged Leliana's head to the side, and the woman wasted no time in capturing a hardened nipple in her mouth, her hands softly grabbing the breast and massaging it. Morrigan closed her eyes and gasped as she listened to the pleasured sounds coming from Leliana as her lips and hands did wonders on her tits.

She knew how much the redhead enjoyed this, and she in turn took her pleasure out of hers.

The seas shall rise and devour them

The witch raised her hips to make them meet Leliana’s hungry mouth as the spymaster kneeled in front of her. The mouth that by now knew every fold, mark and line spot of her skin. The redhead placed one leg over her shoulder, placing some quick kisses on the stretch marks that adorned her stomach before burying herself in Morrigan’s core.

Morrigan moaned, letting out loud groans that filled the rookery as Leliana's fingers toyed with her soaked folds, her face buried in the black mound of hair between her legs, taking every scent and drop that came from the woman.

Morrigan buried her hand in the woman's red hair and pulled her back, Leliana's needy and wanton filled groan as her mouth parted from Morrigan’s fold making the witch’s knees feel weak. The sheer look of despair and want in the redhead's blue eyes as she met Morrigan’s along with the glow of wetness that covered the lower half of her face made a shiver go up and down the witch's spine.

Leliana tried to move forward, but Morrigan pulled her back, drawing out another groan in frustration from her before letting her finally plunge in once more.

The wind shall tear their nations

Leliana gasped against the cold stone as Morrigan held her closely from behind, her armour coming undone with the swiftness that only familiarity could bring.

Her legs spread, and the cold air coming through the roof brushed against her skin, but the feeling was soon drowned by Morrigan's fingers slipping inside her, curling upwards and reaching that spot that made the spymaster's knees weak at the same time as the woman’s other hand reached around her and began softly rubbing her engorged clit.

The redhead pushed against Morrigan, their bodies being as close as they could be, their moans uniting and turning into the symphony that they had grown accustomed over the years, a music that was only meant for their ears.

“Say it” Leliana demanded amidst her moans.

“Make me say it”

Leliana grabbed the back of Morrigan’s head and turned hers to meet her eyes “Say it, Morrigan”

“I… I love you” The witch answered, follow immediately by a curling of her fingers inside Leliana and another brushing of the woman’s clit, making the spymaster dissolve into a trembling mess only held upright by Morrigan’s grip.

They laid down on top of the black robe on the ground as Leliana’s climax passed, Morrigan enveloping the two of them in a comforting magical warmth that made the cold mountain wind vanish from her minds.

Morrigan moved her hand from Leliana, only for the spymaster to grab it and press it firmly around herself, not before planting a soft kiss on the palm of the witch’s hand. Morrigan placed a soft kiss on her neck as she held her tightly from behind, feeling the rhythm of their breaths moving in tandem as her eyes got lost in the full moons that shone their light over the two of them. 

“Are you still awake?” Morrigan asked after some time.

“Yes”

“Aren’t you going to ask about Kieran?”

“I want to, and at the same time I don’t.  You’ve made it clear that you don’t want me to be part of his life”

“I never said that”

“You did not have to. Your actions said it for you. He is already old enough to remember things, Morrigan. I’d rather he not think of me at all than be the woman he’ll see once every couple of years or once every decade when her mom decides to stop by. Because her mother is an egotistical, selfish…”

Morrigan felt her stomach sinking as she heard the pained hush Leliana let out, and she could tell without seeing that there were tears running down her face “Maker, you break my heart, Morrigan. Every time”.

Morrigan waited until enough time had passed, until Leliana’s breathing told her she was lost in the world of dreams before uttering words that only the 2 moons in the sky would listen “I am sorry, my love… for everything”

From the face of the earth,

Lightning shall rain down from the sky,

The loud caw that reached her ears made her eyes snap open as she stood, her heartbeat raising at the swiftness of her movement. As her vision cleared from the tiredness of sleep, Leliana saw several crows standing on the railing and near their cages, filling the air with their noises and with the small rolls of papers containing important information tied to their legs. 

"Morrigan?" Leliana asked as she stood, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold morning wind that entered through the open window brushed against her bare skin as the first rays of sunlight appeared over the horizon. 

She stood and took a few steps before noticing the large black robe on the ground. Wrapping it around herself, her eyes closed for a moment as the lingering traces of the perfume reached her nose.  The witch was gone. Leliana knew she wouldn't stay. She never did.

As her sight moved to the other side of the room, where the sunlight had started to shower the statue of Andraste. Yet this time, the statue's gaze gave no warmth, no comfort. Just an emotionless, cold, judging stare that Leliana felt it pierced the depths of her soul, so much that she had to turn her eyes away from it.

Once again she felt the sinking feeling in her stomach, the want to feel anger but only being able to feel regret, the constant longing that perhaps this time it would have been different, that perhaps this time… she would have stayed.

She knew better, yet she kept hoping.

"Morrigan?... Morrigan…"

They shall cry out to their false gods,

And find only silence.

[daitranscripts]

Under Her Skin Pt. 1

Vicinius

Under Her Skin Masterpost Previous Quest: Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

The PC approaches Leliana. -bioware lean-

Leliana: Our agents have encountered more followers of Corypheus, these so-called “Venatori.”

Leliana: Their leader Calpernia has them search for elven ruins. For what, I do not know. I propose we stop the Venatori before they find what they seek.

1 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Who is Calpernia? [2]

General: Good idea. [3]

General: You’re right, we’d better. [4]

General: Give me your plan. [5]

2 - Investigate: Who is Calpernia? Do you know anything about Calpernia? Leliana: Only that Calpernia is a name from ancient Tevinter legend. An unusual one. She was a priestess of Dumat, foster-mother to the founder of the Imperium. A name like that is meant to assure the Venatori they follow in the footsteps of legends. We must prove them wrong. [back to 1]

3 - General: Good idea. PC: I’m pleased to see my spymaster is on top of the matter. Leliana: I try. [6]

4 - General: You’re right, we’d better. PC: Calpernia must be up to something. Corypheus doesn’t seem the type to suffer idleness. Leliana: I will not let her and Corypheus take us unawares again. [6]

5 - General: Give me your plan. PC: What strategy do you have in mind? Leliana: A subtle approach. [6]

6 - Scene continues.

Leliana: These Venatori have been shadowing a merchant called Vicinius, on Calpernia’s orders. They’ve investigated his finances, surveyed his warehouses. I propose that you meet with Vicinius. Flatter him. Find out what he knows of Calpernia.

7 - Dialogue options:

Investigate: Tell me about Vicinius. [8]

Investigate: What if he knows nothing? [9]

General: He should be forewarned. [10]

General: I’ll try charm. [11]

General: I’ll get him to talk. [12]

8 - Investigate: Tell me about Vicinius. PC: Vicinius sounds like a Tevinter name… Leliana: Born in Tallo, although he claims to be from Vyrantium. He seems rare oils and amber, and prefers red wine to white. PC: What side of the bed does he sleep on? Leliana: He’s unremarkable. I cannot think why Calpernia would care. [13]

9 - Investigate: What if he knows nothing? PC: What if Vicinius is as much in the dark as we are? Leliana: It never hurts to eliminate an avenue of inquiry. And we should tread lightly with the Venatori. They have contacts and spies, just as we do. The sooner you speak with Vicinius, the better. [13]

10 - General: He should be forewarned. PC: We should warn Vicinius that the Venatori cultists are sniffing around. Leliana: Hmm. You’d earn his trust… [13]

11 - General: I’ll try charm. PC: We need him to open up about these bloodthirsty cultists. I’ll bring wine. Leliana: Vicinius could be a useful ally. Merchants travel, and they love gossip as much as coin. [13]

12 - General: I’ll get him to talk. PC: If flattery doesn’t work, I’ll try something stronger. Leliana: As bards say: begin with the sweetest verse. Vicinius could be a most helpful friend. [13]

13 - Scene continues.

Leliana: I’ll make arrangements for you to visit his summer home in Val Royeaux. Hopefully your attention should be enough to pique his interest. We’ll have Calpernia’s secrets yet.

Next: A Visit to Val Royeaux