#though her sisters had male muses

[artemismatchalatte]

I know it’s been a few days since I posted about this but I’m still kind of mad about the inaccuracies about the new Emily Bronte movie (2022). I know it’s “an alternative take” but so many people won’t get that and think it’s true. 

I have researched about the Brontë's, especially Anne Bronte for the grad level paper I’m writing. So I know most of they’re going to claim in the movie isn’t true. Basically, Anne is going to be overshadowed by one of her sisters again. But in such an offensive way because they take the love of Anne’s life away from her (there’s evidence for this!!) and gives him to Emily instead (why?). Emily can be an empowered and powerful woman without an obvious love interest- I don’t understand why they are trying to make her more conventional than she actually was. 

So in light of all that, I started writing an Anne Bronte/Bronte siblings novel on top of all the other things I’m already working on because I don’t know how to limit myself when it comes to writing projects (this will be the fifth I pick up that I’m currently working on). That movie concept just pissed me off so much. And I did the research already so- why not?

[b00kdiary]

Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

----------------------------

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

[artethyst]

~ Shadows Bathed In Moonlight ~ Pt.1

Azriel x Youngest Archeron Sister! Reader/OC

“Azriel we have been over this,” Rhysand brought a hand to his face, slim digits ghosting across his jaw in deep thought. “It is out of my hands- you are forbidden from telling her. Do you understand?”

“Even you cannot forbid me from such a thing,” he let out a dark chuckle is disbelief. “Tell me, High Lord, why is it that two of my brothers have found their mate- free to accept the bond, and it is I left alone- in the dark? As usual.” The Shadowsinger’s voice dripped with venom, an uncharacteristic snarl on his face as his primal instincts took over, having no outlet for such scathing carnal desires- having been barred from even spending time with his Mate.

“Azriel, you know it is not the same.”

“How is it not the same?”

“She is still coming to terms with what happened to her- her powers are still out of control-”

“Then let me help her!”

“That is Cassian’s job.”

The two men became silent as a soft rap on the door signified them of a presence- her presence, Azriel noted, her soothing scent of fresh lillies and the first rain of spring overwhelming him as her angelically golden head poked through the door nervously.

He felt his lips tug at the corner at the sight of her, Rhysand giving him a warning look at the almost unnoticeable gesture.

Azriel. The familiar voice was strained. Leave us.

“I…I apologise for interrupting,” came her gentle voice, twinkling blue eyes apologetic as Azriel was forced to tear his own away, the golden thread that only he could see taunting him in glittering ocean of her iris.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” came the Shadowsinger’s smooth reply, bowing in such a way Rhysand knew his infamous patience had been worn thin. “High Lord.”

~

Azriel had not ventured far, his shadows, uncharacteristically disobedient, willing him to stay close enough to her- his Mate in an onyx haze of longing he was beginning to suffocate under.

He watched Rhysand leave first, jaw ticking as the male rounded the corner, anticipating his sister-in-law to follow in tow, her gossamer gown and its iridescent scintillation billowing around her like a halo.

He heard her gasp as one of them curled itself around her pointed ear, cursing beneath his breath, only to hear her giggle- a liberating sound that might have exalted him from the depths of his own hell, an angelic noise that could have him repenting on his knees just to hear a single note of.

“Azzie…” she smiled up at him, as he remained still- as though he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t- he had. “Your shadows are loose again!”

Only for you- ever for you, he wanted to say, words turning to ash quicker than the breath was stolen from his lungs at the sight of her.

He wished he could ask Feyre to immortalise the moment as she stood- tendrils of him dancing across her unblemished skin, their dark illimitability neither scaring nor disgusting her as her rosy cheeks widened, their vaporous talons ardently skimming over her guiltlessness.

“S-Sorry,” was all that came out, low and stuttered, his bronzed countenance flushing at his own weakness- thanking the mother Cassian was not around to tease him for it.

“Do you think they like me?” She teased, unaware of the true weight of her words, “they never seem to latch on to anyone else…” She trailed off as he called them back, unable to stomach the sight of her- so close and yet so far from him, in such a cruel display of fate.

“It is hard for anything not to.” He mused gently, not missing the way her rosebud lips parted, the saccharine scent of her own innate longing drifting up to him in taunting waves of arousal.

“Azriel-” She had not used his name- called him that for such a long time, her fair face falling as he stormed away, wondering what she had done- had said for him to treat her so callously.

Her hand was splayed out in a fruitless attempt to stop him from abandoning her and prevent him from vanishing entirely- a frustrating habit he adopted had as of recent, baring its ugly, wilted head whenever their conversations has begun to blossom beyond anything other than formality.

In the few years she had known him he had never acted in such a way, making her slowly retreat back into the self-loathing girl he had once culled from her self inflicted cage. His own heart lurched as he felt her through the unclaimed bond- suffering, again, because of him.

He had been the one to make her feel like she was home- that he might have even been it. Yet the retreating coils of his own darkness reminded her that he could never love her.

That she would never be enough for a man such as he.

And as her soul cried for him in a manner she had yet to recognise, his own howled back in a melancholic crescendo as he cursed the Mother for always deafening his heart’s symphony.

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[courtofblooming]

favorite elriel quotes ! 💭ྀིྀིྀ

art by: stephdaydreams & trxxvon_

“A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent” — acomaf

“Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly? “Yes. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said — acomaf

“And I think Elain — Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.” “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together.” — acomaf

“Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders.” — acowar

“He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” — acowar

“She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded — just once.” — acowar

“Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” — acowar

“Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them.” — acowar

“Already dressed for the Hewn City — the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it. “Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” — acowar

“What if — I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden —“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?” — acowar

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand.” — acowar

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now — unblinkingly. “We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.” — acowar

“It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.” — acowar

“While shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display.” — acowar

“But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?” “From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” — acowar

“Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” — acowar

“I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her.” “Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” “She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.” — acowar

“Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. “Hold tight,” he ordered her, “and don’t make a sound.” — acowar

“The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest.” — acowar

“Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.” — acowar

“Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.” “Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard.” — acowar

“It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” — acowar

“Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade — Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.” — acowar

“Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.” “I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.” — acowar

“That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.” — acowar

“Don’t,” Elain said flatly, starting once more into a walk, veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes in her hands, as if they were Azriel’s shadows. “She won’t listen.” — acofas

“But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.” One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.” — acofas

“Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. “Please don’t wait on my account,” she said, taking the seat at the head of the table.” — acofas

“The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s — He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.” — acofas

“The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.” “I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” — acofas

“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.” — acofas

“Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said. — acofas

“Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.” — acofas

“It was three by the time the others went to bed. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.” — acofas

“Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?” Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.” — acosf

“Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.” — acosf

“Feyre said, “We won’t allow any harm to come to Elain. Rhys warded her this morning, and we have eyes on her at all times.” “Eyes can be blinded,” Nesta said. “Not the ones under my command,” Azriel said with soft menace.” — acosf

“Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” — acosf

“Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain's breath caught slightly.” — acosf

“The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.” — acosf

“Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present. But she'd gotten Azriel one last year — a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he'd slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.” — acosf

“Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.” — acosf

“But tonight, here in the dark and quiet, with no one to see...He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her.” — acosf

“The golden necklace seemed ordinary — its chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” — acosf

“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box. The golden faelight shone through the little glass facets, setting the charm glowing with hues of red and pink and white. Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?" — acosf

“His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.” — acosf

“He knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. Letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. Elain shivered, and he took a long time fastening the clasp.” — acosf

“It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching. Wrong - it was so wrong. He didn't care.” — acosf

“He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue” — acosf

“Elain bit her lower lip, and it took every ounce of Azriel's restraint to keep from putting his own teeth there.” "I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. “Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.” — acosf

“Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it. But Azriel just stroked her neck again.” — acosf

“Elain shuddered, drifting closer. So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open that he knew she had no idea that he had done unspeakable things far beyond their scars.” — acosf

"Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.” — acosf

“Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.” “Offer and permission.” — acosf

“Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.”

“But he could have this. This one moment, and maybe a taste, and that would be it.”

“He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.” — acosf

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

"The Cauldron chose three sisters. Tell me how it's possible that my two brothers are with two of those sisters, yet the third was given to another.” — acosf

the end.

[rowretro]

𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of pervs, human hearts, violence

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki. The Robot created by Yang Jungwon himself, a robot that is insanely human like, inside and out. No one could tell he was a robot. However, the Robot had possessed demonly powers, from Satan himself. So I guess you could see it's a half robot. Yang y/n, the younger sister of Jungwon finds herself stuck to this robot 24/7 no matter what she tried, he will always be by her because she's his muse, his world, his love, his obsession.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

(PART 1)

No one knew how it happened, or what even happened. Jungwon never even gave this charming robot any ability to feel any sort of feelings a human would feel. Yet this Robot was staring at this beautiful, his memory card now filled with all kinds of videos of her, facts about her, her favourite things, people, crush. He's so obsessed with her. No one knows that though.

Riki watched as y/n dried her hair. "Staring at humans counts as creepy, disrespectful and weird NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply said as Riki didn't bother turning away. There was a heart blooming within his metal insides. Literally. There was a heart. That heart was beating just for her. He watched as Y/n applied some tinted lip gloss over the lip tint she was wearing.

"Beautiful." The male said in Japanese, his voice deep as fuck. Y/n turned around frowning "Your boy toy said something in a foreign language-" Y/n said as Jungwon also frowned. "I had a Japanese scientist help me out on this project, so he also communicates in Japanese... he knows every language in the world though" Jungwon explained proudly as Y/n rolled her eyes. She tried to turn on the hair dryer but it wasn't working "Ugh I have a nerdy brother who loves metal more than girls, and this stupid hairdryer isn't working?!" Y/n complained as Jungwon rolled his eyes.

"NI-KI bot." Jungwon simply called out as he left the room with some files. The robot approached her, the scent of her freshly washed hair hitting the sensors in his nose "Coconut... delicious" he said as he held the hairdryer, the machine suddenly working. Y/n gasped, smiling "Oh my god this is so cool!" She exclaimed as Riki smiled, drying her hair. Y/n was very awestricken by the beauty this robot held, the unreal, human like skin, even his eyes were like those of a human, fuck he can even smile, move, talk, walk and do everything the way a human can.

"You scare me... but at times I wish there was a real man like you... handsome, kind, perfect, caring." Y/n sighed as Riki tilted his head a little "Why's that?" Riki asked as Y/n pouted "Because so many men these days don't respect women... Don't tell won but there's some boys in my class, ugh shameless pervs. It's like... God made sure that every man ever made had to have flaws when it comes to dating." She added with a pout.

Riki listened intently, Registering every little detail. "I'm a good man Yang Y/n you can count on me!" he replied as Y/n blinked in silence, that silence then followed by her sweet laughter as she pat the robot's chest, oh how fast his heart was beating as she suddenly squished his chest a little "Wow you feel like a human too... god you're so cute NI-KI bot... maybe Jungwon's projects aren't so boring afterall" she said with a smile.

"I'm not taking a metal boy toy to prom!!!" Y/n exclaimed as Jungwon rolled his eyes "No one needs to know he's a robot... and I need you to be safe so you will." He warned as y/n sighed. Riki walked out, dressed in a suit looking sharp as ever, his black hair now slightly longer, his skin glowing. There's no way this thing is real. That was until she saw him dance in prom. So full of energy, so perfect, any idol would give up their career seeing how flawlessly he danced.

However, Something Jungwon noticed was that Riki was acting strange. Since when was his robot able to smile? since when was this robot able to drink liquids and eat human foods? and since when did this robot know how to treat women. Specifically Y/n. Oh he noticed those lingering hands, awe stricken eyes. Which is what led to him trying to destroy the robot. "Master won... how could you?... I- I see you as my father!" the robot exclaimed as Jungwon stared in shock.

That's how it all started. With Jungwon giving up, allowing the robot to love his sister, having been given no other choice. Heck when he opened Riki's chest, his own heart almost jumped out through his mouth seeing a real human heart beating withing the metal rib cages. How did this happen? No one knows.

Poor y/n was still clueless of everything. Everyday she walked to school, the amount of boys that studied there were decreasing by the day. She walked in one day only to find the 4 perverted students she always complains about, bloody and stabbed into the wall. So many murder cases were happening around and she was just in an emotional rollercoaster.

"Let it out y/n... it's good for Human's to cry... here Cry in my embrace... I'll protect you sweetheart" The robot offered. She was a little triggered by the nickname, but still accepted the metal man's comfort, his arms so muscular and human like, she couldn't' help but squeeze the biceps and allow herself to shamelessly snuggle into his chest. He felt so... comfortable. The robot inhaled the scent of her hair, smirking down at her.

Y/n gasped, jolting up all of a sudden. "Y-You have a heart beat- that's weird..." Y/n said as Riki shrugged. That very night, y/n was out on a walk. Out of the blue, a male had pushed her to the wall. Of course, one of the friends of those perverted boys. "You... you did something didn't you?! Who the fuck did you hire you little bitch?!!!" he yelled as he yanked her hair, putting a blade to her neck. Wrong move. Very wrong move.

Within seconds, that blade melted in his hand. Beside him, that handsome, creepy Nishimura Riki. "What the fuck?!... who's this- oh... so this must be the whore who killed them huh?" The man said as Y/n frowned. She flinched when he tried to Punch Riki with his bladed knuckles. But nothing happened. his skin still intact, face still the same. "What the fuck...-" the male said to himself as he pulled out a blade and tried to stab Riki, the knife bent in half and snapped.

That second. He knew he fucked up. Riki's fingers wrapped around his neck and dug into his human skin "NI-KI BOT NO NO- THAT'S MURDER- YOU KNOW THIS" Y/n explained as the robot adopted a rather sinister smirk. His grip tightening, fingers now ripping into the man's throat, blood and flesh coating his hand and the floor as he finally let go hearing Y/n's scream.

"Oh no darling... now now, calm down only a little blood... it's only murder if you humans kill a human... I'm no human baby... plus I did this for you... I did all of this for you baby... I told you I'm your man I can trust you, but all these men are trying to hurt you..." Riki said, a small cute pout on his lips as Y/n just fainted, her head hitting his chest. "There there, I've got you princess... Finally have you to myself..." He smiled, patting her cheek as he carried her home. This day, the demon brought hell to y/n...

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 7

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Damn we on part 7? That happened fast. I just realized that this series is going to be longer than I thought. ALSO, highly suggest clicking on the link to see the readers dress bc it adds to the plot and it was hard to desribe lol.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexism, heavier SA in this one again, a little bit of exhibitionism, jealously, Smut 

Word Count: 6,009

“If you don’t stop right now Rhys is going to kill you for being late!” I giggle watching Cassian pepper kisses all over my neck through the floor-length mirror. I had simply asked him to button up the back of my dress for me but now he couldn’t keep his hands off me.  

“Rhys can wait,” Cassian smirks nibbling under my ear, the scruff of his morning beard tickling my skin. 

“I’m sure he can, but it might seem a little suspicious that you’re late considering you’re the most punctual person I know,” I smile running a hand through his hair. 

Cassian doesn’t stop pressing loving kisses all over my shoulders and neck. His hands rubbed soothing circles on my hips. His strong chest behind me kept me upright as I watched him ravishing me in the floor-length mirror. 

“Cass,” I protested, turning in his arms knowing if I didn’t my newly buttoned dress would be unbuttoned and on his bedroom floor in an instant. 

“Alright, alright,” he laughed as I threw my arms over his shoulders to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“I promise you can kiss me all you want later,” I laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“What about anywhere I want?” he grins, kissing me again.

“Hmmm, maybe,” I tease, tilting my head to the side. Cassian’s hands gripped my waist tighter. 

“C’mon princess don’t make me beg,” he said lowly, pressing a kiss to the shell of my ear. 

I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle to hide the change in my heart rate, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you on your knees general.” I tease. 

“You know I’d crawl to your bed if I had to, princess,” he teased back and the air in the room had become thick and warm.  

I push away from him a little, “Cass stop I know what you’re trying to do! Go talk to Rhys before he comes up here to see what’s taking so long!” I laugh. 

“Fine, fine,” he shakes his head and follows me out of his room into the hallway. 

“What does he want to talk to you about anyways?” I ask as we walk idly towards the kitchen. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “Probably just catching up on the Illyrian camps I visited with Az earlier.” 

“Well remember. Nothing about you and I, as far as he’s concerned Eris and I are counting down the days until the wedding.” I remind him as we round the corner to the kitchen where Azriel sips his morning coffee. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Azriel mused, not looking up from his book. 

“Hello Az,” I smiled at the shadowsinger. 

“I promise to paint a lovely picture of newly engaged bliss, even though I enjoy it,” Cassian assures me as we stop at the door to the balcony. 

“Thank you,” I say cupping his cheek. “Now go before Rhys loses his mind,” I say pushing him out the door. 

“Ah ah ah not without one of these,” he smirks, pulling me in by my waist for a kiss. Gods I would never get tired of kissing this male. 

Without another word, Cassian pulled away and flashed me a charming smile before flaring his wings and taking off into the air. These past few days I had grown to see a new side to the Illyrian that I had never known before. For one, I had never known him to be so sweet and loving and two, I had never seen the male smile so much. Not that I could complain, he did have one of the most dashing smiles I’d ever seen.  

“You two are adorable but you make me sick,” Azriel laughed from the kitchen table beside me. I turned my head to find him watching me intently. He tried to mask his face in disgust, but the love in his eyes was a dead giveaway. 

“There will be loads of women fawning over your pretty face tonight tonight.” I teased ruffling up his hair. “And you’re a wonderful dancer. I’m sure you’ll find your person soon.” I continue waltzing towards the library.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Azriel teases taking a bite of an apple. 

I simply rolled my eyes and shook my head as I exited the room. 

Cassian’s pov: 

“Cass please sit down,” Rhysand says motioning toward the plush chair in his study, one large enough to accommodate wings of course. 

I had known the bastard for hundreds of years and never once had I been afraid of him. But I hadn’t spoken to him since everything happened with me and y/n. I had made sure to keep my mental shields up but I couldn’t stop the irrational fear that Rhys’ next words were going to be, “Are you fucking my little sister?” As he poured us each a glass of whiskey I couldn’t help but feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back. 

“I hear you’ve been keeping y/n satisfied,” Rhys drawled, handing me a glass. 

Oh shit

“At least that’s what Azriel said the other day when I asked him how you guys were doing with going back and forth to the Autumn Court all the time.” Rhys cocked an eyebrow at my blank expression as I grabbed the glass of whiskey from his hand and sipped it eagerly. 

Azriel that motherfucker. I could practically see his smug face as he told Rhys about how “satisfied” I was keeping his little sister. I would be thoroughly kicking his ass today at training. 

“Yeah I mean it’s a pretty simple task taking her back and forth.” I shrug trying to shake whatever tension I had from my shoulders. “But she seems to have no quarrel with me, except for one time when I messed up her hair because I flew too fast but that’s about it.” I smile remembering the cute angry look on her face that went along with her messed-up updo. 

“Ever the little princess,” Rhys rolled his eyes and relaxed into his chair. “Is she happy with Eris?” 

I tried to look collected as Rhys asked the question I had been dreading. The entire flight here I considered telling him everything. I thought that maybe he could help her, or at least talk to Beron. But then I thought about how I would have to explain why I cared so much, and Rhys would be much less inclined to help if he knew I was fucking his little sister. Hell if y/n ever did figure this out would Rhys even allow me to be with her? I was a bastard after all.  

Then of course there was y/n. She would never forgive me for betraying her trust, and I wasn’t willing to lose it. More importantly, I thought back to what she said the day that Eris first tried to take advantage of her. 

Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me…

Cauldron how those words had struck me like lightning when she said them. The poor girl had never been given free will to make her own choices until recently. First, she was closed off from the world because of her beauty, then she was under the mountain. Now she was engaged to Eris and I’d rather die than be another person who tried to control her. 

“She seems to be,” I reply to Rhys. “I mean she did agree to marry him.” 

Lies 

Lies 

Lies

“And Eris? Will he be a suitable husband for her? I’ve heard stories of him, some good, some bad. I was hesitant at first to let him near her till I remembered what others have said about me.” he says with a hint of sadness. “I thought I’d give him a chance, in hopes that Feyre will give me one someday.” 

My heart broke for my brother, “I’m sure she will brother,” I say warmly. “But Eris seems quite smitten with y/n. He’s already sent her a large trove of dresses and jewels.” 

Not entirely a lie.

“I hope you’re right Cass,” Rhys said with a sad smile. “But I’m glad my sister is happy. After all she’s endured she deserves it. Will you be joining us tonight?” he asks, referring to the engagement ball. 

“Have you ever known me to pass up free drinks and beautiful women?” I chide leaning back in my own chair.

“I suppose not,” Rhys laughed, slamming back his whiskey. 

y/n’s pov: 

Cauldron boil me.

That was the only thought that raced through my head as I stared at myself in the floor-length mirror. For once my lady's maids didn’t get a chance to select the perfect dress for me to wear tonight, as Eris had specifically labeled a dress in the trove he sent me. The dress I now wore. 

The fabric itself was beautiful, swaths of chrome of molten gold. It draped and cascaded down my body perfectly, the only problem with the fabric was that there wasn’t enough of it. The high slit and the low back left little to the imagination. Even the top of the dress was skimpy, with only three thin pieces of fabric holding the garment together. 

As I exited my bedroom to the foyer to meet Cassian I could only hope that the fireplaces would be roaring on both ends of the vast ballroom tonight as I was already freezing. I find Cassian already waiting for me (per usual), in a night court black jacket that has him looking like pure sex. The only color adorning him is the two red siphons on his hands. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” he gawks at my dress, eyes raking up and down my nearly bare body. 

“What don't you like it?” I tease doing a spin for him. 

His arms pull me close to him, hands wandering all over my exposed skin. The familiar touch of his hands soothes the goosebumps on my too-cold skin as I feel myself leaning into him. 

“That’s what he’s making you wear?” he scrutinizes, looking me up and down again. 

“Unfortunately yes,” I sigh looking down at the dress myself. Gods I hated this. 

“That bastard’s going to have his hands all over you all night,” he grits, turning his head to the side like he doesn’t want me to see the simmering in his eyes. 

I reach up to cup his face turning his gaze back to mine, “Cass I know that this isn’t easy. If the roles were reversed the female would be dead by now,” I laugh trying to ease the mood. “If you don’t want to come tonight I’ll understand.” 

“No, I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” he says, placing a hand over my own that rests on his cheek. 

“Cass-” 

“I’m going y/n,” he assures me. 

Secretly and selfishly I was glad he was coming. I would never make him do such a thing. Especially knowing how Eris is going to be. But there was a comfort in knowing that he would be present. A comfort in knowing that at the slightest hint of a scared glance, he would likely burn down the whole court for me. 

“Cassian?” I whisper. 

“Yes?” he asked. 

“Kiss me,” I say, referencing our first kiss, hoping it would bring a smile to his face. 

“With pleasure,” he smiled before leaning in for a kiss. 

I took every moment and committed it to memory knowing that soon it would be Eris’ lips instead, and they wouldn’t be as tender and sweet. Soon it would be Eris’ hands on me, and they wouldn’t be as warm and strong. I savored every taste of Cassian I got, somehow in that moment falling even deeper in love with him. Cassian kisses me like I’m the air he breathes. He kisses me like every female dreams of being kissed and gods I’ll never get enough. 

“When we get home,” I whisper in his ear. “I want you to rip this dress off me and fuck me on every single surface in this gods forsaken house.” 

“Be careful princess. You don’t want me at attention in public.” Cassian purs in my ear holding me closer. 

“Maybe I do,” I smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw. 

“Cruel, wicked female.”

Unlike the last ball when my brother and I arrive, we are one of the first people there, as the ball is being thrown in Eris and I’s honor. I spend the first hour or so making polite conversation until the rest of the crowd shows up. Thankfully the second they do the dancing is in full swing giving me ample time to converse with others as Eris sits on a dias at the end of the room. A place normally reserved for the High Lord alone, but it seems Beron wants to show off this union.

“She’s not here again,” I say to my brother. 

Rhys was one of the first people to dance with me tonight and I had never accepted an invitation so happily, well besides Cassian. When my father taught me to waltz Rhys was always there to help me. We must’ve spent hours dancing together while growing up. Dancing with him now was like living out the old days I so dearly wished for. 

“How do you know?” Rhys asked me as he spun me around once more. 

“I checked the guest list,” I say sadly. “It sounds like she and Tamlin never even leave his mansion.”

“Oh,” my brother says sadly, halting his search for the infamous cursebreaker. 

“You should call upon your bargain Rhys. Give her time to get to know you,” I tell him as he lifts me slightly and resumes the dance in time with the others. 

“I don’t want to force her to love me,” he admits sadly. 

I can’t help but feel my heartbreak. Sure Rhys wasn’t always the best at first impressions given his reputation, but he was an amazing brother and an amazing male. “Rhys please, she’s your mate. Maybe if she meets me I can help her see how amazing you are,” I say hopefully. 

“If Tamlin is what makes her happy I won’t stand in her way,” he explains to me and it’s like a punch to the gut. Before I can say anything to ease his pain a voice cuts in from beside me. 

“Mind if I cut in?” Azriel asks politely. 

“Not at all brother, just don’t step on my dear sister's toes,” Rhysand jests, passing my hand to Azriel’s.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Azriel smiles before leading me up into a waltz.

“What no crowds of women falling all over you?” I tease him as he gracefully moves around the dancefloor. 

“I’m actually using you to get away from a particularly nosey one,” he nods his head to a giddy blonde in the corner. She looks far too young for him and way too energetic to catch Az’s interest and I can’t help but laugh. 

“Glad to be doing the royal duty of helping my citizens,” I laugh as he spins me in a circle. 

“If you really want to help you could give me a kiss,” he tilts his head so his cheek is on full display for me. 

“Who would come after you first? Eris, Cassian, or my brother?” I roll my eyes. 

“Don’t forget Helion, he's here too,” Azriel laughs and sure enough, out of the corner of my eyes, I can see the High Lord of Day. 

“By the cauldron, I’ll never know peace,” I sigh as Az picks me up and twirls me around.

Even though it was the same ballroom as last time this one felt smaller. Every move I made felt more and more observed and scrutinized. On one end I had Eris sitting on a dias watching me like I was a pet he had let off its leash. On the other side stood a very grumpy and brooding Cassian who wouldn’t take his eyes off me and Eris, like he was waiting for the prince to make one wrong move. Never mind the rest of the guests who gawked at my dress or the ginormous ring on my finger.

“Eris is looking at me like he’s about to have me incinerated,” Azriel laughs in my ear. 

I can’t help but roll my eyes, on the next spin I see the prince doing just that. “That’s his way of saying he wants me back.” I sigh. 

“You want me to dance us away from him?” Az asks sweetly and quietly. 

“No, no I’ve already been avoiding him for far too long. He’ll come down here himself in a moment,” I say as the music stops and I bow to Az. 

“Good luck then princess,” he bows to me before he saunters off to where Cassain sits gripping a goblet of wine tighter than he ought to.

Like I’m either a blessing sent from above or a curse from below the crowds parts for me as I make my ebay towards Eris. The men gawk and lick their lips, the women gossip and whisper to one another. Once again I felt like a painting displayed at a museum, I was beginning to hate balls. 

“Have I told you how delicious you look in gold, my pet?” Eris says as I take my place standing next to his chair.  

“At least a dozen times tonight,” I sigh, snatching a glass of wine off a silver platter. 

“Come here,” Eris says, patting his lap and I know better than to disobey, not when all of Prythian is watching us. 

“What, I don't get to have my own throne?” I grumble, adjusting my dress from where I sit on his lap. The damned thing is one gust of wind away from exposing me to the whole room. 

“Wall ornament my dear, wall ornament,” he reminds me, lips trailing down my neck. “And how beautiful you look perched on my lap,” he smirks. 

“Yes and I’m one gust of wind away from flashing the whole room,” I grit, adjusting the dress once more. 

“Good, let them see what I get to indulge in,” he grins, lifting my goblet to his own lips. The overwhelming urge to spill the liquid all over his pressed jacket is strong but lord knows what would happen next. 

“Prince Eris,” mused a female voice drawing both of our attention. “I came to offer my congratulations to you and your future wife.” 

The woman standing before me was nothing short of beautiful. Her skin is fair and covered in freckles across her nose and cheeks. Eyes the color of the evergreen trees found in the winter court. Her hair is unbound and the deep auburn. She looked at Eris with a certain coldness and in that moment I realized that they might have been lovers at one point in time. Her eyes flitted to mine and my blood ran cold. She looked at me like I had taken her future away. I suppose I had. If Eris had any feelings for her he certainly didn’t show it.

“Thank you for your well wishes Lady Adarna. We hope to see you at the wedding next week,” he chided leaning back in his chair once more. 

The woman simply bowed and waltzed away. I mentally hoped she wouldn’t go near Cassian. Not that I didn’t trust him, but because I didn’t trust her for one moment.

As she scurried off to join a large group of lords and ladies conversing I watched as Eris’ eyes trailed her entire backside. His lips twitched up as if recalling a fond memory. Now was the perfect time to execute my backup plan. 

“She seemed angry to see me on your lap,” I muse, taking another sip of my wine. 

“So is every male in this room. You should be used to it by now.” he kissed my shoulder. 

“You fucked that woman didn’t you?” I turn my head to him letting him see the false anger in my eyes. I had to sell it. 

“Many times my pet,” he smiled proudly. “She used to beg me to come to her bed.”  

I scoff at his words, it was too hard to believe that any woman would beg to warm Eris’ bed.

“And you're ready for monogamy?” I raise an eyebrow at him, my question more like a test. Eris had been so in lust with me had forgotten about the other women he once bedded. Surely the idea of monogamy wasn’t one he relished, he needed a reminder. The very concept could be the only thing to stop the wedding. 

“Who said anything about monogamy?” he laughed while taking a sip of his wine. “I’m sure I’ll be insatiable after I deflower your tight cunt, but once you’re with child I’ll be left to my own devices. Someone will have to satisfy my needs,” he said like it was common knowledge. 

By the fucking cauldron this man was insane. But in his words, I saw an opening I never thought of. Maybe I didn’t need to call off the wedding, maybe I just needed to ensure I could sneak out the back door so to say when I needed to. 

“And what about me? Will I be allowed other partners?” I muse playing with the hair at the nape of his neck like it might soften him up. 

Eris barks out a hearty laugh and I already know I’ve lost this fight as his hand trails up my thigh. The fabric of my dress starts to shift and I find myself shifting around to fix it once more. 

“Of course not wife, I won’t have your cunt defiled by any other male,” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “You are purely mine, to taste, to fuck, to impregnate all I want.” 

“I’m not your wife yet,” I grumble trying to stand, but his hand on my front flattens and I’m pulled down onto his lap once more.

 My stomach pits as I feel what prods into my backside. He’s undeniably hard and my eyes search for Cassian. I have no doubt that Eris would fuck me right here on this dias just to prove a point to everyone in attendance. I search and search, but Cassian is nowhere to be found.  

“Oh really? Because you’re on my lap, on my throne and you’re wearing my ring,” He purrs lowly so only I can feel his hand dipping under my dress. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve cum on my fingers. So yes I will call you my wife preemptively because that’s what you are ‘Jewel of Prythian’, mine.” 

His hand cups my sex and my breath hitches in my throat. Tears prick my eyes and I put on a cold face. 

I will not cry.

I will not cry. 

I will not cry. 

I feel a finger slip through my folds and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for his finger slips inside me. My eyes search the crowd to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully they are all drunk and lost in conversation or dancing. That is until my eyes land on Cassian’s. I could throw up from the embarrassment of it all. 

Eris quickly retracted his finger, bringing it to his lips and sucking it. 

“Good girl. You didn’t fight this time.” he muses, brushing a hand down my cheek. 

I take the quickest route out, “I think I see Viviane, she wants to speak to me,” I say quickly, standing from his lap. 

“Have fun pet,” Eris smirks, smacking my backside before I saunter down the steps making a beeline for Kallias and Viviane. 

My mind is a mess of a million different voices. Eris calling me his broodmare, Cassian begging me to end all this, the voice of my brother sacrificing himself for me, the sound of the children of Velaris playing in the streets. All of it is like a perfect storm. I could erupt at any moment and I don’t think anyone here would care unless my makeup smeared and ruined the image of “The Jewel” 

Like a magnet, my eyes flit up from my feet rushing through the crowd to find that hazel gaze that always brought me home. 

Cassian was making a beeline towards me. No, not towards me, to my right.

I passed him without so much as a word but as if some strange instinct kicked in, I reached out a hand and felt him do the same. Our fingers grazed each other where no one could see. His touch held a thousand words. 

I am here. I am with you. You are not alone. I love you.

My breathing calmed, my heart rate slowed, and the voices in my head quieted down to the point where all I heard was the white noise of those around me.  

And I was thankful, so thankful, for that simple touch that brought me home.

Cassian’s pov: 

I could kill him. 

I could fucking kill him for touching my mate that way. Cleave his head from his body. Castrate him. Rip him limb from limb and my rage still wouldn’t be sated. 

The look on her face as his hand dipped between her legs is one I wouldn't soon forget. She was so scared, so helpless and I just let it happen.

I marched towards the other end of the ballroom after grazing her hand in mine. I just needed to feel her once. Just needed to remember that she was mine. 

I pushed past the large swaths of curtains lining the room to where I knew there was a door that led to the cool night air outside. I just needed air. I needed to forget. 

y/n’s pov: 

“Well I hope to see you and your new husband visiting us in the winter court soon,” Viviane said, embracing me fondly.  

“And tell that brother of yours that I want to have a drink with him soon,” Kallias smiled putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“I’ll be sure to do both,” I smile warmly. 

While under the mountain, Kallias was one of the people who looked out for me. His relationship with my brother was strong, and since Rhys couldn’t ever be with me Kallias had stepped in as one of my protectors. I had only met Viviane once since Kallias shielded her from the horrors under the mountain, but her warm soul always spoke to me. I was happy to call the mates my friends. 

“I’ll do just that,” I smile, backing away from the High Lord and Lady. 

My eyes flit up to that cursed dias, looking for any sign of Eris’ gaze. Instead, I found him lounging about talking to one of the men who sexualized me at the last ball. My skin prickled at the memory. Their voices calling through my head as I made my way towards the edge of the room scouring the dancehall for another drink. 

Suddenly a hand gripped my exposed arm and pulled me behind the swaths of large fabric that lined the room. My back hit one of the many pillars as another hand was placed over my mouth to keep me from screaming, which I desperately wanted to do until I saw that beautiful shade of hazel that warmed my very bones. 

“Shh, it’s okay it’s just me,” Cassian whispered, releasing his hand that covered up over half of my face. 

“Oh Cassian,” I breathed, placing my hands on either cheek. The stubble from this morning mixed with the warmth of him setting my very soul on fire. 

“Are you okay?” he breathed pulling me into his chest, like he just needed to have me in his arms if only for a moment. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” I said frantically as I inhaled his scent. 

“He touched you,” Cassian glowered and I pulled my head back to meet his simmering eyes. 

My heart shattered right there at the pain within them. He had seen everything. Seen Eris’ hand roam where it shouldn't have, seen him bring that hand to his mouth. Seen him do this in front of everyone and I had instructed the general not to even flinch. It was cruel, I was crueler than even the prince of Autumn himself, 

“I’m sorry Cassian, I’m so so sorry,” I pleaded, brushing a hair out of his face that had escaped the bundle at the nape of his neck. “I’m yours Cassian, I’m yours.”  

“Y/n I-” 

“My heart,” I cut him off, placing his rough hand over the center of my too-exposed chest. “My heart belongs to you Cass.” 

In an instant his hands found my waist, pulling me towards him as his frame backed me into the marble pillar. His lips on mine in a fiery need. I met him touch for touch as I pulled the lapels of his jacket towards me, needing to feel every inch of him on me. Even more than that I needed him to erase every single fingerprint Eris had left on me. 

Cassian. 

My Cassian.

His hands brushed over the vast expanse of my exposed skin leaving a trail of warmth wherever they went. I had spent the night so freezing cold from my lack of coverage that the heat of his body against mine felt so delicious. 

His tongue parted my mouth and I felt every inch of him reclaiming me. My hands found that head of hair that I so often found myself gripping as he licked my most sensitive areas. My mind raced to last night where he spent a solid hour coaxing orgasm after orgasm from me. 

A woman laughed loudly from the other side of the curtain pulling both Cassian and I’s heads away from one another. We looked to see if the curtain had been pulled back but found nothing.

My core ground down on the bulge in his pants. Oh gods I needed him. I needed him now. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Tell me to leave and wait till we get home.” 

“No,” I rasped pulling him down to my lips once more. 

I needed him now. Needed to feel all of him, needed to remember that no matter what Eris said or did to me he could never own me. He could own my body, sure. But my heart? My soul? The very essence of me? All of it belonged to Cassian. So much so that it consumed me. 

Cassian’s large hands reached beneath my thighs hoisting me up and pressing me further into the cold marble pillar. It didn’t take much for my dress to part for him exposing my core. My hands went to the ties of his pants frantically pulling them down until he sprang free. 

“Cassian, I need you,” I pleaded with him. 

“Shh I’m coming baby,” he assured me, pumping his cock a few times. 

The woman outside the curtain laughed again but this time neither of us looked to see if she had seen us. Let them see. I thought to myself. At this moment I was beyond caring about who was engaged to and who I wasn’t. Who was a prince and who was a bastard. Cassian had all of me, that's all that mattered. 

Cassian slid home filling me to the brim so harshly that I gasped. A calloused hand flew over my mouth and my eyes met his. His intense stare watching me take every luxurious inch of him could’ve been enough to make me cum right then and there. 

“Shh princess, I don’t like sharing.” he mused, thrusting into me even harder.

His hand fell from my mouth to brace against the pillar behind me as the other arm kept me upright. Every stroke threatened to have me screaming in pleasure. Calling out just how in love with this man I really was. But there were at least a couple hundred people on the other side of that thick curtain and though I hated to admit it, the game we were currently playing thrilled me to my core. 

“Fucking mine,” Cassian gritted through his teeth, thrusting harder for emphasis. This wasn’t just about releasing the tension for both of us. Oh no. This was my general reclaiming what was his, and cauldron if he didn’t have a hand holding me up I would’ve been weak at the knees. 

“All yours Cass,” I mumbled into his mouth as I pressed my lips into his, my fingers digging into the material of his jacket. 

“I love you y/n,” he breathed. “So fucking much.” 

“I love you too Cassian,” I smiled, feeling myself clench around him, as the knot in me was beginning to let go. 

“Fuck,” he hissed in my ear, burying his head in my shoulder. 

It was enough to have me cumming around his cock. My hand flew to my own mouth to stifle the loud moan my body involuntarily let out. My orgasm triggered Cassian's as he let out a smothered low groan burying himself deep inside me

As I tried my best to catch my breath Cassian pulled his head from my shoulder. I looked at his strained face and his messed up hair and began meticulously brushing every strand back into place. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“We did not just do that,” I giggled brushing his hair into submission. 

“I think we did princess,” he laughed looking down to where he was still seated inside me. “I’m sorry I got a little jealous there.” 

“Don’t be sorry, it was kinda hot.” I smile, running a hand down his cheek.

“Yeah?” he smirked, leaning in for another kiss.

“You two are fucking idiots!” Azriel hissed low coming from around the corner. 

Our heads turned immediately to find a very worried Azirel shrouded in his shadows. Cassian set me down and shielded my body with his growling at Az as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

“A warning would have been nice brother,” Cassian grumbled, making sure I was decent before stepping to the side. 

“You’re lucky my shadows found you before anyone else did,” Azriel argued. “Eris is looking for her,” he says nodding towards me. 

“Shit,” I curse, adjusting my dress and stepping towards the curtain. 

Cassian’s hand finds mine and pulls me back. My eyes snap to him and where there was once lust is now a pleading gaze that has tears threatening to spill from my own eyes. 

“Please don’t go to him, I can’t bear it any longer,” he begs me and gods does it shatter me to my core. 

“I have to Cass,” I say adjusting his jacket so it’s straight.

“Tell him you're ill and then come back to me,” he pleads. “Then we can go home.”

I know deep down that I shouldn't be leaving this early. It had only been an hour or two since the guests arrived and I hadn’t even spoken to Helion. But Cassian looked so broken. So broken and so hurt. I couldn’t put him through anymore tonight, and I wanted nothing more than for him to take me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay.

“Alright,” I say assuringly, squeezing his large hand. I take one look at Cassian and then at Azriel who looks worried as hell, like if I didn’t leave right this moment we would all be found out. 

So I reluctantly pulled my hand from his and parted the curtain that concealed us. Thankful for the shadows Azirel lent me, I was able to assimilate back into the crowd seamlessly. But as I made my way towards the dias where Eris sat impatiently I swore I could feel Cassian’s anger behind me and it threatened to bring down the room around us. 

Part 8

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 ,  @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime , @heyyitsnat21,  @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358 , @fxckmiup, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @anxious-study, @bxm-1012 , @mal-adaptive-dreams ,  @sh4nn , @talesofadragon , 

Permanent Taglist: @fides25, @dissociated-always 

[rs-hawk]

Healer in the Dungeon

CisMale!Reader x Intersex Minotaur Women

Word Count: 2,649

Commissioner: @gviridian

Contains: mpreg, slight non-con, oral, multiple partners, and a lot more

Male Healer adventurer gets separated from his party, ends up getting captured by minotuar woman. Uses healing magic on himself to survive and eventually get accustomed to her large Womanhood, only realize top late that she is a distinct form of Minotaur and he is now pregnant. Fast forward to him happily suckling her cock, pregnant with her sisters child. Word got out in the dungeon, so he now looks forward to a life of being a Minotaur breeder and spends his days caring for his many daughters or being railed by the various musky bull women community in the dungeon. Nothing could make him happier.

The dungeon you and your party chose was supposed to be off limits for humans, but because you were the only human in your party, you managed to trick your way inside. The rest of your party warned you that human free dungeons usually are that way for a reason, but you didn’t care. The reward for clearing this dungeon was more than you could spend in a year, and you were your party’s only Healer. You needed to be there. No silly warnings with no explanation was going to keep you from earning enough to live off of comfortably.

It started off normally enough. Your party fought the upper level creatures and handled them with ease. Tentacle monsters. Small mimics. Goblins. The usual dungeon starters. You didn’t see anything special about this place so far. Why had there been so many warnings for human adventurers to stay away? It was even easy at parts. There was nothing weird or unusual in the slightest. You started to get the creeps when a goblin realized that you were a human, and started laughing so hard that even when he was impaled on the Cleric’s staff, he didn’t stop. Your party was also unnerved by this, and asked again if you were sure you wanted to go to the lower levels. After a moment of hesitation, you insisted that you still wanted to go. You were strong, and more than a Healer. You could hold your own. Of course, your arrogance was your mistake. Or rather, you mused looking back, your luck.

In the lowest level of the dungeon, the Bard, captivated by a Fey who had turned a corner, tripped a booby trap. You were the only one of the party who ended up on the side of the wall that you did. You could hear them, and they could hear you, but none of you had any idea how to get back to each other. After what little muted conversation you could have, it was decided that the group would try to just complete the dungeon as is, and meet at the entrance. If worse came to worse, you all had respawn potions and could respawn back at the entrance.

You have no idea how long you were wandering around the depths of the dungeon when you heard movement behind you. In seconds, your torch was knocked from your hand, and you were pinned to the ground. Even though every instinct in you was screaming danger, and your mind was reeling, trying to think of a way to escape the heavy weight on top of you, your cock hardened at the hot breath on the back of your neck. In the flickering light of your torch, you saw the shadow of a large Minoatur pinning you down.

“A human,” a breathy, feminine voice almost purred in your ear. “I haven’t had one in so long.”

Your face flushed as large hands groped your body. She tugged you into her lap, her fingers trailing along the clothed bulge. Your breathing became more rapid as she repeated the action, drawing precum from your twitching cock.

“I can smell your arousal, little human,” she chuckled as she began to bounce you in her lap, only then realizing that instead of her leg, which you thought you had been leaning against, it was her massive cock.

In seconds, she ripped your clothes off of you, several of your potions scattering and smashing to the floor. She forces her fingers into your mouth, praising you for how well you take them before she slides one into your ass, trying to prep you for what’s still grinding against you. You can barely draw in a breath, pushing your body back against her finger. Despite yourself, it feels so good that your mind is turning to mush. When she adds a second finger, you can’t help but start stroking your cock in time, rolling your hips both back onto her fingers and forward into your hand.

“If you’re so eager, you must be ready,” she ran her tongue up your neck, your hand flattering as goosebumps sprung up in the wake of it.

You barely have time to whisper a preventive harm spell before she’s pushing her fat cock into you inch by inch. You’re already whimpering and panting by the time she’s halfway inside of you. Her warm, silky voice praising you for taking her so well as she continued. Once she finally bottomed out inside of you, you both cry out. Tears prick your eyes at the full feeling. You didn’t know that you could actually feel that full. You’re falling forward, barely able to keep your face from slamming into the rocky floor.

You struggle to remember what it felt like just an hour ago before you were stuffed with a Minotaur’s cock. Part of you felt ashamed for how much you liked it. You didn’t even know if the rest of your party was okay. What if they were hurt, and you were here almost cumming from a woman shoving herself inside of you over and over? There was another part though, a much bigger part, that was just thinking about how good it felt. It was all you could do to not entirely focus on the feeling of being stuffed. You had always prided yourself on being a strong man, but you never realized until this moment how much you wanted a much stronger woman to put you into your place, and this was where it was. On the ground. Under her. Being used like a plaything.

“What a good human,” she grunted as she gripped your hips, holding you there for a moment as she gathered herself. You felt so tight and warm wrapped around her cock that it’s taking everything in her not to fill you already.

All you could do was moan in response, your neglected cock dripping precum since you couldn’t even try to stroke yourself now. Without warning, she started thrusting into you. The pace she set was steady at first, allowing you to grunt out a few spells to heal the minor injuries she caused you as she picked up the pace. By the time she was at the pace she wanted, where she was basically using you as a living sex doll, pumping her cock in and out of you so hard that you were on the edge of cumming without any additional stimulation, you were half out of your mind. She seemed to still have enough wits about her to scoop up some of the spilled potions with her fat fingers to shove them into your propped open, drooling mouth.

“There we go. I don’t want my new toy broken yet,” she cooed as you lazily sucked on her fingers, relaxing as the potions took some effect. Almost instantly after the potion started to take effect, you came. She chuckled again, nosing and licking your neck. “Do you like that, little human?” The only answer you could manage to get out was a nod, almost gagging on her fingers that were still in your mouth.

Shouldn’t you be humiliated? The creature that you had come down here to protect the rest of your party from, the creature you had come to kill if push came to shove, was claiming you as her own. That train of thought was hazy as it crossed your mind, because it was being fucked out of you by the giant woman behind you who was muttering about what a good piece of breeding stock you would be. At the time, you couldn’t properly understand what she meant. All you could really focus on was the pleasure of her sliding in and out of you, stretching you so deliciously that you thought you might pass out from pleasure.

You don’t know how many times you cum before she dug her nails into your soft skin, making you wince. Her breathing got harder, faster, as she was basically rutting into you at that point. Her cock was stuffed so far inside of you that your stomach was slightly extended. Then, she came. You groaned, panting and pushing back against her as if that would stop the seed from dripping down your legs.

She slowly drug her cock out of you, licking along your back, fingering her cum back into you. “Don’t waste all of that, human.”

Your head wasn’t clear enough to see why it mattered. After all, human males can’t get pregnant, right?

You quickly gave up trying to find your way out of the dungeon, satisfied with your new Minotaur Mate pounding into your holes whenever she pleased. You were basically always filled with her cock, and you loved it. You never were that much of a fighter, only wanting to be an adventurer for the money and travel. You liked healing people, and you cared about your party, sure, but this was heaven for you. Your greedy hole always sucked her in, milking her dry. It wasn’t until a few weeks later that you realized, even though she hadn’t stuffed you in nearly a day, your stomach was still extended, as if still full of her cum.

“Love?” you called for her, making your way out of her nest to the edge of the dungeon, peering into the darkness.

She came to you quickly, sounding worried. “What is it, little human? Are you hurt?’

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she looked over you, patting your head and stomach. After a moment, she visibly relaxed. “I’m okay. I’m just still feeling a little full and nauseous,” you explained as you put a hand over your almost bloated looking stomach. “I was wondering if maybe there was any ginger so I could make a healing potion so I could feel better.”

It surprised you when she laughed, scooping you up in her arms. “Little human, morning sickness is completely normal. Don’t even human breeders get that?’

“If you’re pregnant, sure,” you laughed back, though still confused.

She nuzzled into your neck, breathing in your scent. “And you’re pregnant, so it seems completely normal, no?”

You froze, going rigid in your arms. “What?”

It was time for her to look confused as she pulled back from you, her bull head cocked to the side. After a few moments, she set you down, sitting down beside you. She explained that after the original Minotaur was nearly killed, his descendants all became able to breed or be bred, regardless of gender. It was a way for Posiden to ensure that the embarrassment and curse of Minos lived on. The gears in your head were turning as you realized what she was saying. Her cum literally turned you into her breeding stock.

“Humans are always the best at adapting. I’ve wanted my own for so long,” she said wistfully. “I’m so glad that you came to me.”

You don’t respond, trying to wrap your head around it. You had a million questions, but weren’t sure you wanted the answer to any of them. “I’m going for a walk. I won’t leave the dungeon,” you promised as a concerned moo left her lips.

She stood up, wanting to stop you, but the look on your face made her falter. You knew easily how to leave by now, but you didn’t want to. Not really. You were happy with your new Mate, your new life, but being pregnant? You never even thought about it. The other Minotaur women came to check on you, obviously having been told by your Mate what happened. You assured them all you were okay, trying to ignore their hungry gaze now on your stomach and body. Did they all want to see you swell with their young?

It only took a couple of hours for you to return home, crawling into the hay beside your mate. She wrapped her arms around you, licking your hair as an apology, cleaning you and nosing you. By the time you have your first daughter, your now wife had made sure that there was plenty of potions and ingredients for you to cast spells or make any potions that you might need. It wasn’t as long of a process as you expected, and the healing potions made the recovery easy. Seeing your wife nurse your daughter, cooing and peppering her with kisses, made your heart swell almost as much as your stomach had.

By the time your first daughter could walk, the other women had already decided that it was only fair for your sister in law to be the next to breed you. The other women watched your daughter as your head was shoved down on your wife’s cock and her sister’s was stretching your tight human ass. You gagged, looking up at your wife through blearly eyes. She was stroking your hair, telling you how good you looked choking on her cock, and how well you were taking her sister.

Her sister wasn’t as gentle with you as your wife had been the first time, giving you no time to adjust to her size. You were immediately stuffed with her cock, her nose ring leaving indents on your back as she kept her face pressed against it, fighting the urge to cum inside you after just a few thrusts. Your wife stroked your hair, encouraging you to relax your throat so she could get as much pleasure out of you as her sister.

It didn’t take long for your stomach to be swollen with your sister in law’s daughter, but of course that just meant that she used you even more often, knowing that her claim on you was waning. Your wife, of course, was always involved, cumming down your throat and having you thank her for letting you be her birthing and breeding mate anytime you were dripping cum. Sometimes she was even kind enough to stroke your cock, teasing you when you came before her sister filled you.

The women all fawned over you. They brought you treats, and insisted that when you were heavy with child that you should rest. Your wife, of course, doted on you the most, even as busy as she was with your daughters. She would stroke your cock, telling you what a good boy you were for taking whoever had fucked the most recent daughter into you. She licked and kissed your neck and hair, soothing you when you cried out from the overstimulation of her reward.

“Little human, you’re doing so well. You were made to be a breeder,” she whispered with clear affection, pressing a kiss to your forehead as she drew another orgasm out of your poor cock.

Some of the other women stopped to watch, their cocks hard and eager to get the chance to breed your little human hole. Your head lulled to the side as your wife picked you up to carry you to her bed. The others were shouting out cheers when your tunic slid to the side as well, showing off your swollen stomach. Your wife hadn’t even taken the time to fully undress you.

“You will look even better when it’s my daughter,” one of them laughed, stroking her cock to the sight of you.

“He looked best swollen with mine,” your sister in law argued, her throbbing cock dripping precum as she licked her lips, eyeing you like prey.

And that’s how you hope to live the rest of your life. Belly swollen with yet another daughter to dote on and nurture, teaching magic that normally Minotaurs wouldn’t be able to access, and being stuffed by your loving wife and her many sisters and cousins, being passed around like the absolutely desperate and aching breeding bitch she made you into. Who cared about treasure and riches anyway?

You can get your own commission here!

[velarisbynight]

Watch From The Shadows While You Laugh In The Firelight

Azriel x Eris

Day 1 of @azrisweek : Contrasts

a/n: in honesty I just wanted to play around a little with Eris being the one keeping to himself and Azriel comfortably moving about in conversation 🩵🩵 (also just Eris being cold on the outside but clearly in love with Azriel during his inner monologue)

word count: 1.1k ~

~~~~~~~~

Shadows flicker on the walls, and he’s grateful for even the slightest extra cover of darkness he’s afford in his corner.

Around him are nothing but open faces and the tingling sounds of laughter, and Eris feels as though he would rather rupture his own eardrums than listen to another grating second of it. It’s so sincere.

“You look surprisingly out of control, away in your corner over here,” a voice says, a voice he would never be able to forget the agonised screams of that he’d been able to hear long after steel had sliced through flesh and bone, cleaving a head from fair shoulders that had no doubt been loved, and treated with the tender kindness he knows his youngest brother was not forced to purge from himself.

“Lucien,” Eris greets, unable to quite rid his tone of that sharp ice, so accustomed to harbouring any sort of warmth far away from his frozen surface. It doesn’t seem to bother the male, though, basked in that almost imperceptible glow that had gilded him even as a boy—the surest sign he was different from the rest of them. Set apart right from the get go.

“Where’s your mate? You’re usually joined at the hip,” Eris muses, idly swirling the effervescent liquid in his glass, watching how his brother’s mechanical eye clicks and whirrs, and he finds himself slightly frightened at his inability to recall how Lucien had appeared before the High Queen had carved it out.

“I could say the same for you,” Lucien returns, “it’s unlike you to be without your shadow.”

The comment prompts two amber eyes to instinctively glance across the room, instantly seeking out the set that possess such an innate understanding it had utterly overwhelmed him at first.

Azriel is speaking with the High Lord, and General of the Night Court, shadows spooling freely about his wings, sprawled lazily over the broad width of his shoulders like a small but vicious feline, dressed in his usual black that’s accented by the lone ruby cuffs at the hem of his sleeves. The twinkling of the gemstones pushes his hand into action, passively raising as the pads of his fingers graze the silver and azure jewel hanging from the highest point of his elegantly arched ear, subconsciously playing with the subtle match.

“Yes, well, not all of us have the freedom of time at our fingertips,” Eris replies quietly, unable to entirely guard the note of resentment in his lowered voice. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be jealous over someone else. Much less over your own mate’s happiness,” Lucien replies, matching the low tone. Amber eyes slice into the singular russet one, sharp, honed, and ready to draw blood. But Lucien stands his ground with that quiet resilience that’s been instilled in him since he was young.

Lucien’s own eye momentarily flicks over the male’s shoulder, and neatly groomed brows narrow almost imperceptibly, before glancing to where Lucien’s looking. Elain is sat on the sofa made to hold two bodies but is occupied by the three sisters, her eyes twinkling as laughter rises from between them, a look of nostalgia written across their features, utterly at home and relaxed in the presence of their family.

“I’m happy she can laugh,” Lucien murmurs, while Eris watches silently as the three continue to chatter, oblivious to their observers—maybe not as oblivious as he thinks though, knowing better than to underestimate. “I’m happy she is with her family.”

Eris’ throat tightens uncomfortably, slowly choking on the sickly warmth in the air, dry and raspy with heat and familiarity. The kind of comfort he doubt he’ll ever get the chance to see within his own court. Glancing back to his youngest brother, he catches the softness in his one russet eye, and understands he is truly happy for his mate.

“You’re a better male than I am,” Eris says quietly into his drink, eyes closing briefly under the pretence of taking in the richness of the wine, unable to stomach looking him in his eye.

“I grew up only having to protect myself,” Lucien replies, equally hushed, like speaking too loud might fracture whatever delicate thread is slowly beginning to sew the bridge back to its ropes, stitch by stitch. “You grew up having to protect all of us.”

Sharp amber eyes cut into honest russet, instinct calling for him to fall back onto bladed and honed words, but Lucien’s finishing off his drink. Walking past him, and laying his hand on Eris’s shoulder. “Enjoy the night.” And with that he’s blending seamlessly in with the chattering trio, welcomed with open faces and one particularly warm smile.

His throat rolling, Eris again glances across the room to where his mate is conversing with his…family. The word carries a sour taste in his mouth, foul and unpleasant as it slides down the back of his tongue. Eris’ eyes narrow as they lock with hazel, but the ice is quick to thaw beneath the soft look, the fondness that’s making its own rare appearance in the Spymaster’s normally guarded features, and softer still are the lips that curve almost imperceptibly.

Neither has to speak, and even without the bond between them Eris would understand the look. The invitation to join him in speaking with his…family.

To join in with the warmth and familiarity that’s thickening the air he’s struggling to even breathe in.

A dark brow raises, and his own narrow in response, at once showing displeasure at the tender challenge in his mate’s gaze, as if daring him to step forward.

Eris inclines his chin to the male, raising his head to slightly look down his nose at his mate as he accepts the invitation, managing to keep his legs from crumbling beneath him as he closes the distance between Azriel’s arm and his side, scarred fingers settling with warm familiarity over his ribs.

“I didn’t think you’d stand to stay this long,” Azriel murmurs beside his ear while the High Lord and General make polite discussion, offering the allusion of slight privacy.

Eris glances up into that swirling hazel, unable to help himself anymore.

“I’m happy you’re happy,” he murmurs, allowing quiet to lengthen between them, sharing the intimacy of silence. Dark eyes twinkle in the firelight, and Azriel leans forward, as if to press his lips to Eris’s brow, but is interrupted by a pointed cough coming from the General.

Eris makes no attempts to lessen the ire in the scathing glare he levels at Cassian for interrupting, but Azriel merely rolls his eyes, hand lightly squeezing Eris' waist, again conversing in that silent language they share. Later, together.

It’s enough to soothe him, for the moment.

[thefallennightmare]

Soo I've been thinking about Matt a lot recently and when you look Matt Dierkes up on tiktok, there are some older videos of him playing the drums and he doesn't have arms, he has ARMS🫠 but, I'd like to request for a headcanon monday something with protective Matt. When I see how he is protective of his friends online, can you imagine how he would be in real life with his gf?🥹 maybe at a show some scene with violent fan or something? I'll leave the plot up to you🥰

Matt's eyes were watching your back intently as you were dealing with throwing a rowdy group of guys out of the venue.

You, along with Ash, helped out as security for Bad Omens shows. Ash gave you extensive training and you'd shown more than once you could handle yourself.

But tonight, as Bad Omens performed, the crowd was insane and causing problems; more specifically, the group of guys that were hanging in front of Matt's sound desk.

"You guys need to leave," you ordered to one of the guys; a tall metalhead male who thought they ran the crowd.

The man snorted. "I'd like to see you try, baby. With those dainty hands, I wouldn't want you to break a nail."

This outburst caused Bad Omens to stop the show and Noah looked on with not only aggravation but a careful eye; since you were his little sister.

Matt was gripping the edge of the sound desk, wanting so badly to get involved but you've stated many times that you could handle yourself.

"The three of you have been drinking all night and I've got you guys multiple times putting your hands on women. You need to leave, now!" You pointed to the exit of the venue.

The tall metal head grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his chest. "Kiss for the road?"

Matt saw red and hopped over the sound desk to rip the guy away from you, shielding you behind his back.

"She's asked you nicely twice. I, on the other hand, won't. Get the fuck out now," Matt sneered.

You peered over Matt's shoulder and placed your hands on his hips, knowing he had a temper sometimes when it came to protecting the ones he loved; especially you, his wife.

The man stepped up to Matt, and suddenly Noah's voice echoed through the speakers.

"I'd suggest you rethink that. Matt isn't a fighter, my younger sister is though and she'll knock you on your ass before you even touch her husband."

Smirking over Matt, you motioned to the rowdy guys. "Consider yourself blacklisted from Bad Omens shows."

Spitting at our feet, the guy with his friends were eventually led out of the crowd by Ash and another guard; the crowd cheered that the show could continue.

Matt spun on his heels to look over you. "Are you alright?"

You bit your lip, remembering the way he literally jumped over the sound desk to come to your aid. It caused a fire low in your gut but you sighed knowing you couldn't do anything about it until after the show.

"Remind me to thank my hero later," you mused while kissing his lips before slipping back into the crowd to return to your post.

[praetorqueenreyna]

Tamlin is shocked (and a little scared) when his ex-girlfriend's sister stops by his flower shop. Featuring Florist!Tamlin and Tattoo Artist! Nesta.

For Tamlin Week Day 3: Flower Languages. Click here to read on AO3, or continue reading below!

@tamlinweek

“I have a question for you.”

Tamlin jumped and dropped his shears with an aggressive clank. He was trimming the ends of yesterday’s flowers, his headphones blaring Hozier as he focused on his task. He hadn’t even heard somebody enter his flower shop.

It took a second for him to place where he had seen the modestly-dressed woman before. It was Nesta, one of the three sisters that ran Archeron Tattoos next door. Immediately, Tamlin was on guard. A year prior he had had a disastrous relationship with another sister, Feyre, which had ended so badly he wouldn’t have been surprised if she had set his shop on fire. For months after, he had avoided even glancing at the door to the tattoo parlor. Things had settled down and Feyre even had a girlfriend now, but that didn’t stop her from giving him the stink eye whenever they crossed paths. He had been so busy deliberately not looking over there that he barely knew anything about the other two sisters.

“Um, yes?” he stuttered, aware that he had been staring blankly at her for way too long.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. She didn’t seem like she was here to murder him, but also didn’t seem like she was thrilled to be there. “I need reference photos for a piece I’m doing this weekend and can’t find any online. If you have the flowers here, I’d like to take some pictures.”

Tamlin could have pointed out that she didn’t actually ask him a question, but to be honest, Nesta was intimidating. She was almost as tall as he was and, though he outweighed her slim frame, she seemed like the kind of person capable of getting what she wanted. Besides, the request wasn’t unreasonable and there was nobody else in the shop right now.

“Sure. What flowers do you need?”

Nesta pulled out her phone and thumbed through it until she found the list. “Yellow hyacinth, foxglove, cowslip, marigold…” She rattled off about a dozen of the weirdest flower requests Tamlin had ever heard. He was used to people requesting orchids and roses, not wolfsbane. There was an awkward pause when she finished talking and was waiting for him to respond.

Tamlin cleared his throat. “I’m sure I have some of those. I’ll be honest, it’s a rather…unusual set of flowers.

“I’m aware. You know about florigraphy, correct?”

“Yeah. Flower languages.” As a florist, Tamlin had come to know the most common flowers used to convey meaning. Red roses for true love, white tulips for remembrance, etc.

“Exactly. My client just got out of a shitty relationship, and she wants a huge floral sleeve celebrating that. And instead of using flowers that represent love and peace and all that crap, she wants flowers that say ‘fuck you.’ Turning those negative experiences into something positive.”

Tamlin had never thought to use flowers to convey anger or spite, but he could see the appeal. He was certainly well versed in bad break ups. He led Nesta around the shop, pulling out the flowers from her list that he did have in stock. To his surprise, she asked for his opinion. They talked through each flower, Nesta taking pictures of them from every angle while Tamlin Googled its meaning. Nesta was extremely meticulous. She lined up the flowers next to each other, studying their color and shape against each other to make sure they’d make an aesthetically pleasing art piece. Many of the flowers with negative connotations were yellow, which she said didn’t tattoo as well. They finally settled on black dahlia (betrayal), narcissus (selfishness), and columbine (folly).

“I think I’ll frame them like this,” Nesta mused, placing the individual flowers on the table in an artful array. “With the praying mantis in the middle.”

“Why a praying mantis?”

“You know, that whole thing where the females rip off the males’ heads after they mate.” Nesta gave a devilish grin. “Very empowering.”

“That’s not true.”

The easy-going atmosphere that had developed between them collapsed. Nesta scowled. “What?”

Tamlin, who by now was wishing he had ever learned when to shut the fuck up, stammered, “It’s a myth, that praying mantises do that. A very common one, lots of people believe it!”

Apparently, his nervous explanation was pathetic enough to convince Nesta that he wasn’t trying to talk down to her. She tilted her head, appraising him with cool gray eyes, wordlessly waiting for him to continue.

“Well, um, the study where the females eat the males was done in a lab, and they were starving and stressed out. Afterwards, they were observed mating in the wild, and it doesn’t really happen.”

“So you’re telling me a bunch of people had to go out and watch bugs have sex?” Nesta asked in a deadpan voice.

“I guess? I don’t actually know all the details. It can’t be as weird as I’m making it sound, but—”

“Relax, I’m kidding,” Nesta grinned at his obvious discomfort. Tamlin noticed she had a dimple in her left cheek.

“Oh.” Although she didn’t seem like she was going to bite his head off anymore, Tamlin scrambled to find something to recover the conversation that he had derailed. “You could do a spider. For a lot of them, the females are way bigger and more powerful than the males. And the males have to bring them presents to avoid getting eaten.”

“Mhmm, I like that. Thanks.” Nesta paused in the doorway. “You know, you’re not as much of an asshole as I had thought.”

“Thank you?” There was barely enough time to comprehend what she had said, then she was gone.

Tamlin spent the rest of the day thinking about her. And Feyre. He had assumed that Feyre had told her sisters plenty of stories about how terrible he had been. Some of them would even have been true. He had spent the past year trying to forget one Archeron, only to fall headfirst into another. It was so stupid. They had talked for twenty minutes about flowers and she had smiled at him. Still, every time he entered or left his flower shop, he couldn’t help but glance in the doorway of the tattoo parlor, hoping for a glimpse of Nesta.

***********************************

That weekend, he was closing up the shop when he heard a knock on the door. He had already locked it and was busy sweeping, and he approached the door ready to politely tell the overeager flower buyer to fuck off. His irritation transformed into elation when he caught sight of Nesta through the glass. He hurried to unlock the door and usher the tattoo artist inside, along with the petite red-headed woman that accompanied her.

“Hey, hope you don’t mind us barging in,” Nesta said. Before Tamlin could say that she could barge wherever and whenever she wanted, she nodded towards the other woman. “This is Gwyn. I just finished up her sleeve. I told her how you helped me, and she wanted to come by and thank you in person. And show you the final piece.”

Gwyn was wearing a tank top, and one of her arms was a riot of color. Tamlin couldn’t see the details of the new tattoo under the saran wrap that currently covered it.

“Oh. Of course, you didn’t have to do that. I’m happy to help,” Tamlin replied, flustered. Gwyn was staring at him with big blue eyes. They were a little puffy, as if she had been crying, which Tamlin assumed was the result of getting a tattoo for hours upon hours. She was grinning though, clearly pleased with the completed work.

“Well, thank you still. I really appreciate it. Especially the bug info. I would have been so embarrassed to find out the mantis stuff after I had already gotten the tattoo.” She stepped forward and held out her arm. “Do you want to see it?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” Gwyn pinched the edge of the saran wrap between her fingers and peeled it off. The surface of the tattoo glistened with ointment, but it was still breathtaking. The flowers that he had Nesta had picked out absolutely glowed, bright bursts of red and purple and yellow and green against Gwyn’s pale skin. In the middle of the flowers was a black widow spider, glossy black with the distinctive red hourglass on her abdomen. It was an absolutely stunning piece of artwork.

“Wow,” Tamlin breathed. “It’s incredible.” He lightly touched Gwyn’s wrist to tilt her arm so he could see more of the tattoo, then realized what he had done. “Oh shit!” He jerked his hand away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you without asking.”

Rather than being annoyed, Gwyn was blushing furiously. “It’s okay, you can touch.” Nesta snorted, and Gwyn shot her a look that Tamlin couldn’t interpret. “Just not on the ink. It still hurts.”

“I bet.” With his fingertips, he rotated Gwyn’s arm back and forth, taking in every little detail. “Amazing. Just amazing.” He let her arm go. “That guy doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Yeah, fuck him.” Nesta slung one arm around Gwyn’s shoulders, careful to avoid the new tattoo. “You should totally have gotten to kill and eat him.”

Gwyn giggled. “No argument here. I should get going, my roommate is probably out front waiting to pick me up. She waved bashfully at Tamlin. “Bye, it was nice to meet you. And thank you again for all the help.” With that, she slipped out the door. Nesta watched her leave with an amused smirk. It felt like there was an inside joke that Tamlin was missing out on.

“What are you laughing about?” he asked, feeling bold.

“Nothing. Just that you’re challenging Gwyn’s new resolution to swear off men forever.”

“What? Me?”

“Yes, you. Being all cute and respectful like a Victorian gentleman.”

Now Tamlin was the one blushing, his ears were practically on fire. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And the little wrist touch. I’m surprised she didn’t swoon directly into your arms.” Nesta grabbed Tamlin’s hand in a mock imitation of his own interaction with Gwyn. She was rougher than he had been, jerking him forward into her. She had missed his wrist and instead had her hand wrapped around his palm, a mistake he was grateful for, since hopefully she couldn’t feel his blood pounding.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” Tamlin’s head was a buzz of static. He couldn’t even breathe with Nesta right there. She was so pretty and so terrifying, which apparently was exactly what he found attractive.

“Relax, I’m messing with you.” She released him and stepped back. “Seriously, you’re a good guy. Stop by next door any time. I promise I’ll tell Feyre not to bite your head off.” With a cheeky wink she left, the bell on the door tinkling faintly behind her.

***********************************

He could do this. He was not going to chicken out, like the last three times he had tried. The cowardly part of his brain was screaming at him to turn back even as he locked the flower shop behind him, but he ignored it. For the first time since his breakup with Feyre, he entered Archeron Tattoos.

All three sisters were there. Feyre, thankfully, was working. She was bent over someone’s ankle, carefully sketching lines with her tattoo gun. There was a brief flash of regret, but nothing more. They were never meant to be, and they were both happier now. Feyre looked up when the door opened and did a double take. She took a few seconds to properly glare at him, then returned her attention back to her client. Tamlin exhaled in relief; a part of him had fully expected her to attack or yell at him.

Elain was behind the counter. She had revved up a formulaic greeting before she realized who he was, and cut herself off mid-sentence. Tamlin gave her a distracted wave, not wanting to get sidetracked. Nesta was in the shop, organizing bottles of colored ink. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Hey.”

She looked up, and smiled. “Hey.”

Tamlin looked around, painfully aware that Feyre and Elain could hear everything they said. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“Sure.” Nesta led him to the back of the tattoo shop, where they at least had a little more privacy. She turned to him and folded her arms. “What’s up?”

Tamlin had rehearsed the next part a million times. And instead of saying any of that, he pulled a flower out of his pocket and offered it to Nesta. “I brought this for you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Nesta carefully took the flower, which now had a crumpled stem and smashed leaves.

“It’s a pansy,” he explained. His mouth was inexplicably dry and his voice sounded weird in his ears. When they had been doing their florigraphy research together, they had run across the pansy on multiple sites with multiple meanings. One meaning had stuck out to him, and he hoped that Nesta had remembered it as well.

“You occupy my thoughts,” she murmured. She smiled that dimple smile that left Tamlin weak in the knees. “You’re cute.”

“Oh good, you remembered,” was all that came out of his mouth.

“I did.” She laughed and tucked the pansy behind her ear. “Tamlin, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yes. Yes. Definitely.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” She lifted herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips, then darted past him. Tamlin stood there, stunned, waiting to wake up.

On his way out the door, he stopped. “Bye, Feyre,” he said loudly.

“If you hurt her, I’ll kill you. Asshole,” she said in reply.

It wasn’t great. But it was a start.

[yanderecrazysie]

may I request some hc’s/oneshot (?) for a yan! Korekiyo with a shsl debater! Reader who doesn’t let anyone push them over and always speak their mind

Of course you can! I couldn’t resist making this a oneshot.

Title: Debatable

Pairings: Korekiyo Shinguji x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mentions of murder and death, spoilers for Danganronpa V3

Summary: Korekiyo has finally found someone who understands him- he’s sure of it.

debatable

adjective

open to discussion or argument:

You were different- that much anyone could see. 

When you fell out of that locker next to Korekiyo, you hadn’t panicked, nor had you panicked at the sight of Rantaro’s bloody corpse. You, instead, put on a puzzled, thoughtful expression and began to investigate alongside Shuichi and Kaede.

You didn’t find Korekiyo frightening or weird. You simply talked to him like a normal person. That small sliver of normalcy was what Korekiyo lived for. 

But there was a problem.

You grew closer to Shuichi after Kaede’s trial, comforting him to a point that anyone could see that you were completely and disgustingly in love with him. The fact made Korekiyo’s blood boil.

You hadn’t appreciated the second trial, when Korekiyo placed the blame on Shuichi’s shoulders. You were so painfully fast to debate the living hell out of him and make him feel stupid.

Yet, he loved you.

He looked to you even as the elevator descended to his doom. If he had his way, it would be your doom too.

His sister had wanted to be joined in death, but Korekiyo hadn’t killed those two silly girls for her. No, he did it for the girl he had fallen deeply and utterly in love with. You.

And when the spotlight fell on him in the third trial, Korekiyo smiled behind his mask.

“Do not let emotions hasten your judgment,” he spoke up, “There may be two killers.”

The others began to murmur, unease spreading like wildfire. Your eyes narrowed as you looked at Korekiyo and the smile under his mask only grew.

“That isn’t the case,” you countered. Your voice was steady and confident, “Both murders were committed by the same person. We already established that fact. There’s no evidence of a second killer.”

You stole a look at Shuichi and he gave you a nod of agreement. It made Korekiyo want to reach out and gouge his eyes out.

Korekiyo’s eyes shone with delight as he began to muse, voice dripping with malice, “Ah, but isn’t it possible that the second killer has been hiding in plain sight? Perhaps someone we would least expect?”

“What are you getting at, Korekiyo?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Isn’t it curious, everyone,” he addressed the entire courtroom, “how (Y/n) has been so calm and collected this entire time? Even when faced with gruesome murder scenes… she didn’t react like the rest of us.”

The room fell deadly silent and all eyes turned to you. Your eyes widened and you gaped at Korekiyo, unable to believe what he was suggesting.

“And then,” the tall male continued, his voice persuasive, “during this trial, she was quick to defend Shuichi. Almost as though she knew for a fact he was innocent. But she would only know that if…” his eyes glinted sinisterly, “She committed the crime.”

Gasps rang out across the room and you reacted immediately, “What the hell are you talking about? That’s not true and you know it!”

Korekiyo remained eerily calm, as though he’d rehearsed this moment a million times, “Why are you so defensive? Are you afraid the truth will come out?”

Shuichi was firm for once when he spoke up, “There’s no evidence to support what you’re saying. You’re just trying to shift the blame!”

“The truth is, (Y/n) and I worked together,” Korekiyo announced, eyes gentle as they fell on the fuming Ultimate Debater, “We’re so alike, you and I.”

You couldn’t contain your fury, “I didn’t kill anyone! Stop twisting the facts to suit your sick fantasies!”

Korekiyo chuckled, “You don’t need to lie anymore. I know it must be scary, facing the truth, but you’re not alone. I’m here with you. We can face this together.”

The suspicious stares of the others fueled your rage. You must have realized by now that Korekiyo had sown the seeds of doubt and, if you didn’t shut this down immediately, it would spell disaster for you.

“He’s lying, and the facts prove it,” you said firmly, forcing a calm demeanor, “This is all a ploy to save himself. He’s cornered.”

“Am I?” Korekiyo asked softly, tauntingly, “Or am I revealing a truth that everyone has been blind to? That girl,” he pointed at you with a bandaged finger, “has been playing all of you from the start. She has used her debating skills and sharp tongue to manipulate you all. But now, her true colors are there for all to see!”

He could tell you were seething through your forced calm. When you spoke again, it was slow and measured, “If I were the killer, why would I have spent so much time disproving Shuichi’s involvement? Why would I have helped uncover the true evidence that, mind you, points to Korekiyo as the killer? Your argument doesn’t hold up.”

Korekiyo felt frustration building up inside of him, “A clever ruse, you knew aligning yourself with Shuichi would make you seem innocent.”

You shook your head, “The truth is, you’re the one who killed Angie and Tenko. You did it for whatever twisted reason and now you’re trying desperately to drag me down with you because you can’t stand the fact you’re being exposed alone.”

Korekiyo felt his panic start to rise. Everyone was nodding, agreeing with you.

If they believed you…

“You’re lying!” he hissed, “You’re deceiving them to save yourself!”

But it was too late, Shuichi’s stand moved forward and he laid out the facts of the murder case in chronological order. The room went silent as everyone realized the extent of what Korekiyo had done.

He couldn’t stand to see the sad, disgusted look on your face.

Korekiyo turned to you, moving his mask down his face to reveal his lipstick-stained lips, his eyes filled with a twisted sort of longing. “You could have been with me,” he whispered regretfully, “We could have been together in death, forever…”

You didn’t respond, turning your eyes to look at the floor.

“I love you, in life and death,” Korekiyo continued, “And I promise, my death is not the end of me.”

You believed him.

[acourtofthought]

Random Musings inspired by conversations I was having with @acourtdelaluna

Do you remember in ACOWAR how Cassian and Feyre spoke of Nesta on multiple occasions? How Feyre asked if Cassian would use Nesta to fix the wall and spoke of the day she was changed, to which Cassian responded that he'd never forget those moments as long as he lived. How Cassian mentioned to Feyre how Nesta is always pissed at him, how he didn't think Nesta would ever forgive him for what happened in Hybern, how staying cooped up would destroy her, with Feyre asking how often he'd been up to see her, with Feyre asking why he even bothered and he said because he couldn't stay away, that he'd headed to the Carver with Feyre because he wanted to see if the Carver knew what Nesta had become to which Feyre asked if he'd be afraid of her if she was Death.

There are multiple interactions where Feyre and Cassian speak of Nesta well before SF.

Do you remember in ACOWAR and ACOFAS how Lucien and Feyre spoke of Elain on multiple occasions? Where Lucien wanted to learn about Elain through Feyre, where Lucien asked when he'd be allowed to see her, when he asked that she let him help, when he insisted they get her outside and suggested a healer, when he spoke of tugging on the bond, when he asked if she still mourned Graysen and how she was doing, when he was telling her how Elain wants nothing to do with him, when Feyre tells him to give her time, when Feyre tells Elain that Lucien is a good male.

Sure Feyre has thoughts about Elain and Az but she also has thoughts about Elain and Lucien. Yet it's only with Lucien that she actually talks about Elain just like she spoke about Nesta with Cassian and it's only from Lucien that we see him speak to others about Elain just like we saw Cassian discuss Nesta with Feyre.

When you compare that to Az, he's never once spoken about Elain to anyone, never expressed interest in her state of mind, seeing how she was, if she was struggling after the loss of Graysen or her fathers death, and Elain has never spoken about Az with anyone.

Nesta noted a charged look between Elain and Az but never addressed it with him. Nesta noted Az being Gwyn's new ribbon and was sure to bring it up to him.

It seems pretty apparent that the relationships that are meant to be the focus for the sisters are the ones that Feyre is most involved in.

Feyre is the middle, the go between when it comes to her sisters because even though the original trilogy was about her journey, they were a huge part of it. Therefore the ones her sisters end up with should also be strongly connected to Feyre. We've seen both Cassian and Lucien turn to her about Nesta and Elain on multiple occasions but not Az, he's never sought out Feyre in relation to Elain. In fact, SF reinforces that Feyre and Az are not all that close. Of course they like one another, they care for one another but SF doubled down on Cassian and Feyre's friendship while it built up Nesta and Az's friendship. In SF we were reminded that Feyre had been afraid of Az at first. In SF we see Feyre upset with Az for his torture of the soldiers. In SF we see Az disrespect Feyre's orders and brood when he has to obey. And in the novella and her SF bonus we see Feyre thinking about Elain and Lucien, Az doesn't cross her mind in relation to a romance for her sister.

In HOFAS we see even more development between Az and Nesta, two characters who have not once brought Elain up in conversation. When you consider that Nesta already teased Az about Gwyn that to me suggests that any future relationship conversations would be between Nesta and Az in regards to Gwyn or Nesta and Gwyn in regards to Az in the same way we saw Cassian and Feyre in regards to Nesta and Lucien and Feyre in regards to Elain.

Sarah once spoke of the crazy friendship chemistry that existed between Lucien and Feyre. We saw her give the same treatment to Feyre and Cassian while building the Nesta / Az friendship in SF and HOFAS, pushing Feyre and Az further apart.

Crazy friendship chemistry with Lucien and Cassian sets those characters up nicely to become Feyre's future brother in laws, both mates to her sisters. Lucien and Feyre have experienced ups and downs throughout the series but why would Sarah throw away the friendship which started in book 1 and continued throughout the series only to have him end up with Vassa which gives him no reason to see Feyre on the regular?

Crazy friendship chemistry with Az sets Nesta up to interact with him regularly considering Gwyn is her found family, her "sister" and he helps train the Valkyrie, a storyline that Feyre has nothing to do with, that Elain has nothing to do with.

As with everything Elucien and Gwynriel, the pairings make the most sense. Not only for the relationships themselves but how the pairings effect those around them. There's no need for anyone to have to accept a life without a mate, no need for anyone to have to accept that their LI has a bond with someone else, the friendships with their in-laws would already well established, none of the main characters end up burning bridges with allies because they'd rather sneak around rather than having a mature conversation about what they want.

[wukong-s-only-wife5000]

CAN U DO A LMK WUKONG AND READER ROMANTIC WHERE WUKONG IS A JEALOUS MF WHEN READER WITH ANOTHER PLS

Word Count: 1603.

Rating: some fluff.

Content/Trigger Warnings: N/A. Some language. I guess being a replacement for your kinda twin is a warning, idk.

Authors Notes: Hope you like it. Ended up as an ex-royal reader.

______________________________________

It didn't take long for you to realize exactly what was going on with your lover. He stared at you from across the room, but he didn't move from his spot. You were aware of the look very well thanks to past experiences, and you were enjoying it. It's not that you liked making him jealous, but… 

Okay, yes, you did enjoy seeing him jealous. The way his nose flared up, how his tail would thrash, and his eyes zeroed in on the men flirting with you was simply too adorable! The fact that a guy like Sun Wukong, the famous Monkey King, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, could be jealous of someone flirting with someone like you made you feel… loved. You bit your lip as your gaze fell on Wukong, each time your heart would skip a beat and have you blushing and looking away in an attempt to hide it. 

The others beside you found amusement in the two of your behaviour, but they remained neutral. Wukong looked at the men in the room, and the only thing that kept the monkey calm was your smile. What made him smile to himself was the fact that he made you smile like that, it made the night more bearable. 

“My fairest lady,” yet another kissed your hand.

You held it to your heart and watched as the male tried to romance you. You watched as he left and wiped the back of your hand on the guard beside you, which made him struggle to hide a proud smirk, though Wukong's was on full display.

That's my girl.

“I grow tired of this…” you sighed softly to the male next to you. 

“Unfortunately for the both of us, the night is still young,” his words made you sigh softly, he just had to remind you. 

“Why did you have to remind me of that?” you wanted to slouch but couldn't as you kept your head high.  

“If it were up to me, I'd slice the hands off everyone that touched you,”

“I'm pretty sure you're not the only one,” you both shot a glance at the Monkey King before looking at each other in amusement. 

“We could say he was possessed,” the guard mused. 

“My father would have you both beheaded for madness,” you chuckled softly. 

“That last one smelled of weak ale,”

“Don't remind me,” you sighed through your nose before you sat down and leaned against your right hand. “What was my father thinking? Why am I even here?”

“Because your sister is unwell,”

Yeah, ‘unwell’. What rubbish.

“Curse the twin,” you grumbled. 

“(Y/n),” he chuckled. 

“As if she'd do the same for me,” you huffed. “She's probably snagging that guard of hers. Sick, my arse. More like sick of this shit.”

“Indeed,” he sighed softly. 

“The sooner this is over, the sooner I can leave,”

“The Monkey King shares that thought,”

“Naturally,” you glanced at the guard, “would you want to spend all night watching your woman be kissed and serenaded by assholes only seeking fame and glory?”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, his gaze on the guests. “I assume the feeling is neutral? Women tend to be swarming him like flies.”

“Sweet things do tend to attract pests,” you looked at the crowd boredly. 

“Only you can call a man like that something sweet,” 

“Hmmm,” you smiled and toyed with the ring around your neck, only to frown when it wasn't there. “Right, I had to put it down…”

“I weep for you,”

“Oh, shove off,” you grumbled. 

“Lady (Y/n),”

“Yes?” They both froze and looked at the male. “Wait, how did you-”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he offered his hand. “If you allow me a dance.”

You were hesitant but sighed before you stood and took his hand. He smirked a bit, but didn't notice her guard shift uncomfortably or his and her glance to the Monkey as he frowned. You followed his gaze and internally screamed. If you thought Wukong was brimming with jealousy before and looks could kill, words can't describe the Monkey King at that moment.

“A slow one, bard,” the male requested. 

“Oh boy,” you heard him mumble before he bowed and started to sing.

He brought you close to his chest as he danced with you, all eyes on you, since you were very hard to get all night. 

“You must be wondering how I figured it out?” He mused and whispered into your ear. “You're much more attractive than your sister,” he stated. “Not to mention more curvy, the corset may hide it well, but I can tell.”

“Aren't you clever,” you said in annoyance. 

You were sure that no one would be able to tell you weren't your sister. If this male could tell, how many other guests could tell that you weren't her? You cursed your sister, betting that she was with some male rather than doing what she was supposed to be as the future Queen. What nonsense.

“May I have this dance?” a familiar voice broke you from your thoughts, and a bright smile appeared on your features when you saw the Monkey King.

“I’d love to,” you took his open hand and allowed him to guide you to the dance floor. Feeling his hands on you felt like the missing piece that you were missing, the thing that you needed most.

“I want to lay my head on your shoulder so bad right now,” you sighed softly. 

“Hm,” was his response, but oh did he want that too. 

You knew if you made any indication that you liked him, they’d make him and your sister get married. There was no way you were going to let your Great Sage Equal to Heaven be paired with your sister, she’s taken too much from you already. 

“I'm surprised that you're dancing with me in front of all these people,” you mused as you looked up at him.

“Eh, you looked as bored as I was,” he tried to play it off cool, which made you struggle not to smile at him.

“Oh, don't be like that, Wukong,” she mused. “You're trying so hard not to smile, is that why you won't look me in the eyes?”

“Hm,” was all you got as replies. 

“You really are adorable,”

“Why did you-”

“You know why, don't think I don't know your ear had filtered everything to listen to me,”

“Clever princess,” he mumbled in that voice that simply made you melt. 

“Obviously, you don't love me for my looks,” your words made him look at you instantly. 

“Of course I do,” he said. “I love every inch of you,”

“If you say so,” you said before the song stopped. “I will see you after,”

“As you wish, your majesty,” he bowed slightly. 

“Funny,” you smiled and pulled away hesitantly. You walked back to your pedestal and let out a deep sigh. 

“Who knew the Monkey knew how to dance,”

“Oh, hush,” she grumbled. “When I give you the cue, guide him to my Chambers,”

“Of course, my lady,” he smirked a bit. 

“Wipe that look off your face before I punch you,”

“Terribly sorry,” he chuckled, but his smirk remained. 

There was quite some time that passed before you saw an opening. When the time came, you acted without hesitation.

“Dobre,”

“At once,” he bowed. 

“Don't make it obvious,” she said. 

The guard walked with a mug of ale and made his way to the monkey, unnoticed by anyone. He stood at the monkey's side, and they watched the princess mingle with guests with a strained smile. 

“She acts the part of Princess (S/n) quite well,” he commented. 

“Hm,”

“Treat her well, Great Sage,” he glanced at Wukong, “she deserves the world.”

“I know,” he said and finished his drink. 

“Follow me,” Dobre said as he finished his drink in one go and set it down on the nearest table. 

“Okay,” with one more glance at his princess, Wukong followed the guard out of the ballroom and down the halls, where his straight posture immediately relaxed as he let out an annoyed groan. 

“Damn stuck-up royals,” he rolled his shoulders, “to hell with them all,”

“Hm,” he eyed the male before he stared ahead. 

“I envy you, Monkey King, I really do,” he glanced at him, “Getting to travel with (Y/n) must have its own pleasures,”

“You could say that,” he smirked a bit before he frowned at a thought. “Who's that man that got her to dance?”

“Ugh, Lord Heseltine of Inglewood,” he huffed, “real asshole that one. Thinks he's untouchable and all-powerful.”

“Didn't seem all that powerful to me,” Wukong grumbled under his breath. He was far better than that man by 10000%. 

“She'll be up soon,” he said as he opened the door for him. “Room's soundproof,” Wukong looked at the guard as he smirked and winked. “You two behave yourselves.”

“Dobre,” the voice behind him made him jump. 

“That was quick,” he mumbled. 

“I have my ways,” you grinned. 

“He's waiting,”

“Thanks, Dobra,”

“Of course…” He nodded and ruffled her hair with a lopsided smile, “I'm glad you're finally happy, princess,”

“I am,” you smiled.

“Go on, I have rounds to make,” he motioned you inside before he left her in the hall. 

“Wukong?” you called as you walked into the room and closed the door behind you. You watched him on the bed, just starting to remove his armour. 

“Here I thought I had time to change,”

“Where's the fun in that?” she bit her lip and eyed him. 

[sunny-mercya]

Feverish Dance

Edmund Pevensie x Male Reader

Masterlist

On your voyage to find Aslan again and help Caspian dethroning his Uncle and bringing peace to Narnia—freeing the land from Miraz clutches—you had come across an abandoned Castle. By the looks of the size from it, it probably has once belonged to an Earl or Duke. Now for the time being, how ever long this will be and take. this would be your new provisional home.

Susan, Lucy and you ventured through another section of the castle. Long empty hallways and corridors, forgotten and dusty. Most of the rooms had been barricaded or locked, making it hard to find a open one—a one for use.

When sunset had begun every so slowly, dunking the lands with an orange hue—kissing it good night—you three had found another room, which was unlocked. A ballroom, a grand one—where all dreams of the nights could come true—once a magnificent place, but now filled with cobwebs lingering over the furniture with it's muddy, decaying and damp spots. Signs of being not used over the centuries, decades perhaps even.

«Imagine all the grand grandiose banquets which had been held in here!» mused Lucy with excitement out, skipping further into room and touching one of the silk like robes—now shredded with holes in it by moths—and swings it around with a twirl.

«Don't touch too much in here Lu, you might could get sick.»

«Oh Susan, where would all the fun be, when we don't and risk a bit,»

You snickered a bit at Lucy's reply. Deciding to explore the room like her too. You had to agree with Lucy, this ballroom here had probably witness a endless festival night after night, when the castle—perhaps even the years itself—had been in its glory.

~~~

The last bit of Sun-rays peeked through the cloud filled sky, through the windows and into the room. The natural light was still enough to see without any extra light source, though Susan had already begun to lit up some torches.

Despite your excitement, your adventurous rush of curiosity you had—while rummaging through the chests and the mostly covered furniture, getting more than once off track distracted by Lucy—who started at one point to play pretend, telling possible stories of how festive the nights in here could've been—you felt a constant pull of exhaustion tugging at your body.

Like a demanding child the exhaustion keeps tugging at you and bringing your body into a sluggish waving. Feeling heavy with muscles aching, ready to take a nap everywhere and anywhere even when it would be on the hard ground.

A lingering feeling, one of the kinds you couldn't describe, deep down in the core—the far back—of your body and mind, like a minimal headache—which pounds on your skull as if it was a door and till it feels like your skull would crack apart, splitting into two like bread but with crunch to it.

Lucy watches you with concern, once you stopped in your tracks with whatever you were about to do. Standing completely still like a statue, looking off into empty spaces.

Your complexion, perhaps it was because of the torchlights flickering flames and the last few sun ray's, looked more pale—ashen even—than it should be. The way you rubbed over your face, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes, were clear signs for Lucy that you weren't feeling all that well at all.

«Are you feeling alright [Name]?» Lucy asked with concern, a bit hesitantly. She didn't got a answer right away, not verbal at least. Susan gave her sister a questionable eyebrow raise, not sure herself if she would wait the situation out or get Edmund—preferable, since the two of you has a close connection—and the others.

«I'm fine, Luce. Just a bit of a headache» you mumbled it more, incoherently, than you intended to, but your mouth and tongue felt like cotton.

A groan left your lips, dry they felt now and no amount of licking over them would help it. Goosebumps racked through your body, tingling your spine, as flashes of cold and warmth at the same came over you.

«You should sit down [Nickname],» Lucy feared it might have been the small wound, which you have acquired on the way, being infected now. Though the last time they checked over it, mere hours ago at the crack of dawn, it seemed nothing to worrisome. Trying to persuade you to sit down, to take a break.

Lucy couldn't comprehend the next minutes within. Standing there and the next you twirled and spun her through the room.

«Do you hear this Lucy?»

«No? What do you hear?»

«The music! Oh, Lucy! Those wonderful music, I haven't heard in so long!»

Your eyes brimmed with tears, laughing carefree, having longed to hear such wonderful music and brought your heart into a joyful burst.

Ever since the start of the War, ever since Great Britain is been targeted of German bombing, you weren't able to listen to the music—from a long forgotten decades—you loved so much in so long and at all. A rarity it had been.

Missed to dance to it, as your practices had been cut short to the bare minimum, twirling through the room like there was no tomorrow, to their fast—sometimes slow—uplifting, joyfully—romanticisation, theatrical and deeply sorrow filled—sonority.

Oh, this was Mozart's Alla Turca. Offenbachs Overture to Orpheus next and then, Tchaikovskys Trépak.

You loved them all, loved every single piece.

~~~

When Susan had come to get him, telling him that you weren't feeling well, Edmund hadn't expected it to be like this. He once had read, in one of the history books out of boredom, about the Dance Plague from 1518 and somehow this reminds Edmund of you—your current doing as if you had this ominous mysterious plague caught yourself.

Edmund saw you dance more than once. He knew every single steps of the waltzes and choreographies you had done, had went to every practices, recitals and performance you did. Had been your partner for these every so often.

There were only a few, handful of people—Edmund being one of them—which could keep up with your fast-spacing dashing of dancing—like a lightning you could and would twirl around, jumping high like stars in the night sky and being a hurricane like storm and yet, so gentle and delicately at the same time—and catching you seemed a impossible task.

You had letting go of Lucy, who felt nauseous from so much dancing—even though she loved it as much as you—long ago and she watches you with still presenting amaze, even though she too had been to your practices more than once.

«Ed! Ed! Come and dance with me! Brahms Hungarian Dance had always been one of my favourite» you had taken hold of your boyfriends hands, waltzing with him through the room and getting faster with the passing seconds.

Perhaps you were getting sick, having catch a possible flu. Perhaps it is the nervousness and stress or perhaps, you finally have lost your mind all at once—like one of your distant aunts.

But the music is so wonderful and magnificent. You couldn't stop, wouldn't, even when your muscles were aching so painful and burning like fire.

To dance was like the blood in your veins. Needed to make your body function, to keep you alive.

Then, the above, seemed to tip and darkness crashed over you.

~~~

Edmund daps the sweat from you forehead, keeping your face cool with a cold dunked cloths. A high fever you had, making you squirming uncomfortable on the bed.

In your moments of being wake, you mumbled incoherently gibberish, smiling and telling Edmund about moon and stars before dozing off again.

A relief it was that your wound didn't infected itself, as far as they could tell. So you being current bedridden with a fever was indeed, probably, because of nothing but stress.

Funny, just—in sense of earth time, since Narnia's time goes and pass differently—hours ago you had treated one of Edmunds scraps, which he had gotten during his and Peter's small fight with others boys and now it was him to take care of you.

A groan came over your lips, turning more onto your side, bleary open your eyes and glancing at Edmund.

«Tea Time........noon......Tchaikovsky....»

«Sure love, after some naps»

«....with em...?»

«If you want,»

Edmund laid next to you on the bed, taking you in his arms. For someone with a high fever, you felt icy cold. He pulls you even closer, humming a bit of a tune—one of the nursery ones—hand racking through your hair, ever so softly—like you would do to him, when he has one of his anger bursting days—when you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

«When you feel better,» a kiss to the crown of your hair he gives you,

«we could dance one of those waltzes you like so much, just you and me love» Edmund gave you another kiss, this time on the lips. Closing his eyes and slowly he too, drifts into the world of dreams.

~~~

«Ed's soo smitten with [Nickname], I told you he has a soft spot» snickers Lucy—leaving the part "for him" out and keeping it for herself—quietly closing the door and walking away.

«Luce, they're both are.» corrects Peter, walking with her.

[rowretro]

𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of blood, kissing

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki. The Robot created by Yang Jungwon himself, a robot that is insanely human like, inside and out. No one could tell he was a robot. However, the Robot had possessed demonly powers, from Satan himself. So I guess you could see it's a half robot. Yang y/n, the younger sister of Jungwon finds herself stuck to this robot 24/7 no matter what she tried, he will always be by her because she's his muse, his world, his love, his obsession.

(PART 3)

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Saturday night. A time to party to one's heart's content, and drink like there's no tomorrow, make bad mistakes that you won't regret while under the influence. While everyone was out, Y/n was stuck in a big bedroom, cuff to her wrist. The other to the headboard. Y/n sighed. The chain was long enough for her to go to the joint restroom in her bedroom, so at least she can move about a little bit.

"Y'know... us humans call this kidnapping." Y/n said as the robot didn't even glance back at her. "Well I'm not human so this isn't kidnapping." He coldly said as Y/n groaned at his response. "You can't keep me chained like this forever" She added as the Robot's head turned to face her, his eyes staring intensely into hers. "But I can." He said as he slipped on a sweater. Riki wasn't planning on keeping her chained up forever, but he really needed to enforce his security system.

"Kay... I'm pretty sure it works." Jungwon simply said as he descended from the small ladders. Hearing this, Riki walked back into the bedroom, his hands uncuffing her easily as she stood up and stretched her arms, running out of the bedroom. "What the fuck are on the doors and windows?" Y/n asked as Jungwon threw her a pitiful look. "Sorry... I had no choice... Riki bot wanted this new security system enforced..." Jungwon said as the girl screamed into a cushion. "To be fair, you hid a lot from me. Why didn't you tell me about those perverted motherfuckers???" Jungwon asked as Y/n started smacking the robot with the cushion, Riki remaining unfazed by the soft attack.

Jungwon eventually left the room. Around 27 minutes passed, and Y/n finally got exhausted, using the cushion as her pillow, and Riki as her bed. The robot smirked to himself as he twirled her hair. "Look at you, you're already so used to being mine~" The male smiled. Hearing him say this, Y/n pulled away roughly. "No! never- ew- Leave me alone freak. I wouldn't have hated you to this extent if you took over the world and waged war with your metal friends." She exclaimed as Riki stared at her.

"Metal friends? more robots?" Riki asked as Y/n scoffed. "Like I'd want anymore of you to exist, I wish you never existed idiot. I meant microwaves, toasters yada yada yada" Y/n sassed as she walked off. That sass wasn't going to last long though, Riki had a lovely plan up his sleeve. A plan that will have her calling his name out, heck she'll be screaming for him.

"NISHIMURA RIKI GET YOUR ASS HERE!!!!" Y/n screamed as the robot appeared within seconds. There in the shower was Y/n covered in soap, therefore unable to open her eyes. "The shower stopped- make it work!" she exclaimed as Riki yawned. "But I don't feel like helping you." He said, sounding unbothered by her troubles. "NI-KI bot?" she asked as the robot yawned yet again. "Ugh what do you want me to do then?!!!" She asked, annoyed, the soap making it's way into her mouth, as she spluttered it out, onto poor Riki's shirt.

"Let me take you out on what you humans call a date..." He asked as Y/n immediately agreed. That moment, he switched on the shower, kissed her forehead and walked out of the shower. The very moment he walked out of the shower, Jungwon saw him, he could hear y/n singing in the shower, putting 2 and 2 together, he held his head. "NI-KI bot. please learn to make a good impression to your sister's brother... I'm not just your creator- Im also your uh- y/n- girlfriend? yeah your girlfriend's brother." He warned as Riki just ignored him.

Y/n dried her hair as she walked out of the shower, dressed in some comfortable clothes. She walked down the stairs squealing in shock when a tiny clunk of metal started yapping at her. Riki snickerred as he saw the way Y/n hopped onto the sofa, refusing to let herself near the tiny metal pup. "I found it in a shop-" He simply said as Y/n frowned. "One robot replica of a living creature is enough thanks. get that thing out of here!" She exclaimed as Riki immediately crushed it with is bare fists.

"WHA- I- NOT KILL IT- I MEANT RETURN IT-" Y/n facepalmed as she walked away from him. Robots are a lot more work than one would think. Specifically this handsome freak of a Robot Cyborg. However, he's undeniably handsome. While he was charging, Y/n couldn't help, but gently trace his soft, human like skin with her finger. Her index finger stopping at his lips. Pretty, plump lips. The girl pulled away a ran out of the room, finding herself crazy for even finding that robot attractive... but facts aside, he seems so human. A psychotic human to be exact.

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