#through hels or high water

[silverskye13]

Hi! I love rns and have a quick question about Red and his relationship to Rendog. I remember reading a story of yours where Red actually attacked Ren and seemed to explicitly not like him, but in one of the ficlets he refers to him as his “little brother” when talking to Renbob and seems concerned about his well-being. Did something change between them? If so, may I ask what happened if it’s not too spoilery

I might be getting confused so please correct me if I am

You're not confused!

Those shorts [there are a few of Hels/Wels as well] were written before RnS, and now sit in a place in my dubious "cannon" that is pretty far in the past.

Red held a lot of resentment for Ren when he first spawned in. He was a lot like Helsknight, in that he viewed himself as the stronger necessity bred from his Hermit's faults and weaknesses. Ren didn't think he was strong enough to protect his friends in 3rd Life, so instead of trying, he opted to die and summon a monster in his place [Red, on the black stone altar]. Then that monster was forced to live all the failures Ren himself didn't want to struggle through. It would be jarring to be put in the world with a fierce sense of loyalty and protectiveness, only to be thrust into circumstances where you were doomed to lose everything, no matter how hard you hung on.

He has some vengeance. Mostly through terror, and guilting Ren into facing his own fragility [there are a couple shorts where Ren is on Hermitcraft on a yellow life, with no idea what happens when he goes to red or dies here. Unlike 3rd Life, Hermitcraft is his home server. If he dies here, will his existence simply end?].

I never wrote a resolution, but Red gains his respect for Ren when Ren comes to meet him in hels, so they can have out their grievances. Red has been demanding that Ren grow a spine, prove he's worthy of the life he's been given, and Ren finally swallows [some of] his fear and decides to fight for his right to live unbothered. It ends in a draw, mostly because Red backs down halfway through the scuffle.

Ren very firmly thinks they're on better terms now because of the fight. He made Red on a death server, so it makes sense to him that Red would value combat, and blood, and all those gritty, scary things.

Red, however, knows it's because Ren showed up. He was put in a circumstance where death was present and permanent, where retreat wasn't an option, and where, if he chose, he had a whole server who would wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him safe if he asked. Life would get difficult for sure. Life would get very inconvenient. But the Hermits are powerful, and they would find a way to break Red's curse eventually. All Ren had to do was hide and wait [like he did on 3rd Life. Sacrifice someone or something else so he doesn't have to do the scary, difficult things.]

When Ren instead decides to show up, Red allows his other half some begrudging respect. Respect that, over time, through familiarity, turns into a very cold and distant fondness. It's not that he likes Ren exactly. It's that no one else is allowed to call him out so harshly. It's sibling-like. He's Red's little brother, stumbling through a world he's trying to learn and change from for the better, and Red, who already thinks he's on the top of that mountain, watches and, rarely, offers advice.

And sometimes Ren even listens!

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some angst, beautiful beautiful angst :) and comfort obvi (if i make a p2), oh and not proof read lol

Part 2

The quiet hum of the night settled around the House of Wind, the moonlight casting silver shadows across the balcony. It had been a long, grueling day, as Cassian was relentless in your Valkyrie training.

You gently pealed off your grimy leathers and sighed, feeling relieved. The House started the bath, and you almost moaned at the thought of rinsing all the dried sweat and dirt off you. The water was warm, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the air as you sank into the bath. Your muscles, sore from the day’s exertions, slowly relaxed under the soothing heat, the steam rising around you like a soft mist. Azriel was the one to advise on using lavender oil for sore muscles, and in that moment you couldn't be more thankful.

After the bath, you slipped on one of Azriel's old shirts that you stole and climbed under the mountain of covers and stuffed animals on your bed, each a special gift that you collected from your dearest friends and family.

Sleep didn't find you that night, and the moon was high in the sky when you gave up on trying. Soft moonlight shined through your cracked window curtains, casting a glow within the shadows of your room.

You padded out into the hallway, intent on making a cup of tea in the kitchen that would hopefully make you drowsy enough to get a few hours of shut eye before Cassian banged on your door for morning training.

As your tea steeped, you looked out the window at the stars that danced across the sky, feeling completely at peace. You got up and wandered to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. As you stepped out, the night air wrapped around you like a cool embrace, the faintest trace of something sweet carried on the wind. You leaned against the stone railing, feeling the rough texture under your palms, and let your gaze drift upward. The sky stretched out in front of you, vast and endless, a tapestry of stars glittering like diamonds on a velvet cloth. It was like the universe was holding its breath, every star hanging in perfect stillness.

A soft rustling of wings broke the stillness, as Azriel landed beside you.

"You're up late," he joked softly.

"I could same the same about you," you reply.

He gave a rare soft laugh, a welcome sound that filled your belly with warmth and automatically brought a smile to your face. "I suppose we’re both too stubborn to sleep."

He smirked, his lips quirking at the corners. "That’s one way of putting it."

You grimaced. "Bad dreams again?"

He looked down over the balcony, "You know, I think Cassian is mixing up the training lesson tomorrow; we're going to work on group fighting, which I think will be hel..."

"Azriel." You cut him off quietly but firmly. "I asked you a question."

He sighed, paused, then almost imperceptibly nodded.

Your heart broke as he turned his head away from you, and you couldn't help but immediately pull him into your arms, locking your hands around his neck. His hands snaked around your waist automatically, and you couldn't help but notice that you wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of your life. His head tucked into your neck, softly breathing in your scent.

His deep voice was muffled as he whispered. "I should be over them right now, right? How do they still keep coming back?"

Your heart broke all over again.

You regretfully pulled away, and grasped the sides of his head so he focused on you. "Listen to me very carefully Az. You. Are. Not. Weak. You have been through unimaginable things, trauma that any lesser male would have crumbled from. I look at you every day, and I could not be prouder of who you are."

He didn't respond right away, his breath shallow, shadows curling around his feet and snaking up your wrists. His eyes glistened, the faintest sheen of moisture gathering at the rims, as if a single, fragile breath could break the dam holding them back. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze deepened as the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if the very weight of their emotions was too much to contain.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the world seemed to shift in an instant. Your heart raced, your senses flared, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by an unrelenting sense of love and protection. The golden bond stretched between you, and Azriel's eyes softened, a quiet hope brightening the hazel you loved to look at. It was raw—too much, too sudden—and it left you breathless for a moment, scrambling to make sense of it.

Before you could even think, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No."

As soon as the light had come, it left Azriel's eyes, winking out from existence as he pulled away from your embrace as if burned.

Your heart shattered as pain lanced through your chest, realizing what you had done. Your mind raced, trying to undo what you’d said as you fumbled to find your words.

The weight of what you said hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and you could see it in his eyes—how they flickered with confusion, hurt, and something deeper, something far more vulnerable. You had never wanted to cause him pain, never meant for those words to slip out the way they did. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The words felt stuck, trapped somewhere deep inside of you.

He stood there, silent, his expression a careful mask, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. It cut deeper than anything you'd ever felt before. He looked as if the ground had just been ripped out from under him, as though something inside him had been shattered—by you.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You could feel him pulling away, the space between you growing wider with every passing second.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the words trembled on your lips. You stepped forward, but he took a slow step back, his jaw clenched tight. There was a distance in his gaze now, an emotional wall rising between you that had never been there before.

His eyes were distant, his usually calm demeanor now laced with an edge of something darker. You had never seen him like this. Never this vulnerable. Never this raw.

"I didn’t mean it," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. The thoughts of the damage you had done washed over you in waves, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. "I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just—"

He held up a hand, stopping you, his gaze flickering down as he took a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, as if each word was being dragged from him. "No. I...I need to leave. Now."

His wings flared up getting ready to take off, away from you, away from your desperate attempts to explain. You reached a hand out, in an effort to keep him with you, but he backed away, eyes displaying the agony you felt mirrored in your soul.

As his wingbeats fell away, your chest constricted. You could feel the newly forged bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond you had waited for for centuries that you already fucked up, stretch and start to fray at the edges. You grasped your chest, trying to dig your hands in to physically hold the bond tight and never let go. The first tears finally broke free, and the dam shattered as you sunk to the ground, breaking into pieces, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way it hurt—how it felt like you were losing him.

You desperately drew in breath, trying to get your breathing under control in vain. As your exhales and crying finally quieted, a numbness took over your body. Your breathe was the only noise around, the wind dead and birds silent, and you realized how alone you were. Your best friend, who had been with you through everything, was gone, and he hated you. Your beautiful, kind, loving, selfless mate who deserved so much more than you, was gone, and he'd likely never want to see you again.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Meddle About // BestfriendsBrother!Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader // MODERN AU

MDNI

Summary: going to your best friend's brother's party shouldn't be much of a big deal right? Till you catch her older brother's eye, THE aegon targaryen, known for his notorious reputation.

WARNINGS: afab!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, doggy style, fingering, tiddy sucking, aegon being aegon, spitting, spitting in mouth, aegon is nasty asf, cum eating, manhandling(?), hair pulling, voyeurism (reader walks in on aegon getting blowed), cunty aegon. + not proofread

WC: 2.2k

❝We only met each other just the other day, but you already got me feeling some type of way, now, if I could figure it out, I'd take you back to my house so we can meddle about. ❞

“You coming to the party tonight?” Helaena asks you through the phone and you sigh, “Can't, I need to prepare for the test in a week.” you tell her and you can hear her let out the most disappointed sigh ever.

“Girl fuck those tests, you need to have some fun, you are coming to the party, this isn't a request and if you don't- I will tell literally show up to your house and drag you here.” she says sternly and you chuckle at her words.

“Aegon throws a party every two weeks Hel, I can just attend the next one.” you try to reason but she shushes you, “No, you are coming, that's it.” she hangs up before you could respond and you stare at the phone in disbelief.

You ponder about it, wondering if you should really go, I mean you have the rest of the week to prepare for the test right? Skipping one day doesn't hurt.

So you decide to go.

And here you are in your car, trying to find a place to park as most of the empty spaces were occupied, luckily the targaryens owned this huge amount of slot, so parking here shouldn't be illegal as it was their own property.

After you find the parking spot, you make your way to the entrance gate to the mansion, looking at it in awe as you can hear the DJ play and lights flash.

Seems like Aegon went full out for this.

It wasn't uncommon for him to throw parties, he was the typical popular kid in college who throws a party almost every week, the one with a high body count, the one who's extremely good looking.

You on the other hand, were known to be the topper and pride of the academy, you were popular too, but not as much as him, and the main reason you were popular was because of your good grades and high percentage, being one of the top 5 academically well endowed students in the entire university.

You and Aegon were polar opposites, you didn't even know him that well, just someone that is the brother of your best friend.

The guard at the front asks for your name and you tell him it, and he lets you in, taking note that you were Helaena's best friend.

You stand in front of the huge door, hearing the music boom loudly from the otherside, before ringing the doorbell, only to find it open so you push it open and make your way inside.

You bring out your phone to call helaena and she immediately picks up, “Bitch, I'm here.” you tell her and she lets out a loud squeal, “Where are you? At the entrance? Wait, I'm coming.” she says and you wait a few minutes before you spot her making her way over to you through the crowd, and then dragging you to the pool outside, where it is less crowded.

That's when you spot Aegon, with his legs in the water, top naked and only wearing shorts, there was this girl clinging onto his arm in a bikini, you noticed that it was Cerelle Lannister.

One of the popular girls in the campus as well, but for the same reasons like Aegon.

“You did not tell me this was a pool party.” You say to helaena, looking down at your attire, which was a simple black thigh-length dress that hugged your body like a second skin and she shakes her head, “It's a merged party, so don't worry too much about attire.” she tells you and you nod.

You soon find the time flying by fast, you were having fun, finding classmates that you enjoyed talking to and engaging in fun games at the party with them, and suddenly you needed to pee.

“Hel! I'm going to the bathroom.” you yell loudly over the music and she gives you a thumbs up, acknowledging your words and you chuckle, making your way inside and up the stairs.

The hallway upwards seems empty, the music getting muffled as you go further down it, you open the door to Helaena's room to use the bathroom in her room since she wouldn't let anyone inside, until you spot Aegon at the edge of the bed, getting sucked off by none other than Cerelle.

She doesn't seem to have heard you enter the room, but Aegon surely did because his eyes filt over to you, you freeze up.

He looks directly at you, scanning your body from head to toe, mouth falling open as he breathes heavily, he grabs Cerelle's hair, pushing her further to in to take his cock in her mouth, while he maintains eye contact with you, you stand there not knowing what to do, he smirks at you, before he throws his head back and groans, coming undone in her mouth.

You quickly step outside the room and shut the door quietly behind you, and that's when you realise you entered the wrong room, you curse yourself internally and go into Helaena's room to do your business.

You clean up and come out of the room, only to find Aegon standing in the hallway, leaning against his door as if he was waiting for someone.

“Y/N isn't it?” he asks, and you nod.

He walks towards you, closing the distance between you both, causing you to press your back against the wall.

“The school's pride huh? I've heard a lot about you.” he tells you and you stand there confused.

Why is he trying to make a conversation as if nothing had happened earlier? That you did not just walk in on him getting his dick sucked?

But most importantly, why is he showing interest in you?

“I hope they're good things.” you reply back, sighing.

Maybe you can get acquainted with him, after all it would be nice to know your friend's brother just in case.

“Oh they are, you're often praised for being smart,” his eyes scan your figure, “But fuck, they missed out one core detail of how fucking hot you are.” he leans in, whispering in your ear.

You feel the goosebumps rise and shiver, which doesn't go unnoticed by him, earning a chuckle from him.

“Uh, thanks I guess, I need to go-” you push him off, and try to leave but he grabs your hand and pulls you to him, his gazes at your lips, licking his own and leaning in, you put your hand up to his lips pushing him away and freeing yourself from his grip, before rushing downstairs, away from him.

You thought that interaction would be the last of him.

But it wasn't.

It was almost as if the gods had heard you praying to make him leave you alone but they were like 'no'

So here you were, standing shocked with your apartment door open as you took in sight of Aegon, he was dripping wet from the rain that was pouring heavily outside.

“How did you find me?” you question, genuinely worried if he was stalking you, but he simply showed you the message of Helaena sending him your address when he said he got stuck in the rain, since you were nearby.

And that's when you receive a message from Helaena, ‘hoping that you won't mind letting Aegon in, since it looks like the rain won't stop anytime soon, and there is too much traffic.’

You sigh and reply to her, ‘of course not.’

You step aside and Aegon smiles widely, welcoming himself in, removing his wet boots and socks before stepping on the carpet.

You go inside your room and grab a towel, before throwing it at him, “Don't bother me, I'm studying.” you warn him and he raises his hands up in surrender, “I won't.” he says.

Well that was a fucking lie.

Because here you were, making out with him on your bed.

He rubs himself against you, creating friction to ease his ache as he kisses you hungrily and frantically, your hands tugging on his hair as you pull him closer, rubbing your cunt against him whilst straddling him.

He pulls from the kiss, hands groping your tits, and you gasp when he pinches your nipples, before pulling up your shirt, and pushing your bra down to reveal your breasts, he gives kitten licks to your pebbled up nipples before placing wet kisses.

“Fuck, I have been thinking of this lately.” he mutters, taking in your nipples wholly inside his mouth, suckling on it slowly. “Been wanting to fuck you since helaena bought you home.” he mutters, the other hand massaging your other breast, he pulls away before taking off your top completely and unhooking your bra, his hands then move to the band of your shorts, you get off him to pull them down, along with your panties, he takes this time to remove his own clothing, leaving you both bare.

“We barely knew each other before that party but fuck-” he pins you down on the bed, one hand holding both your hands up while his other holds your thigh, grabbing it and spreading you wide.

“Do you know how many times in this past weeks I had thought about just taking you to my house and fucking you senselessly?” his fingers dip down to your entrance, catching your wetness and bringing up it to coat your clit in it. “So. Many. Fucking. Times.” he pinches your clit harshly causing you to gasp.

“Aegon-” you whine, breah growing heavy, “What?” he asks before pinching it one more time, making you squirm.

His fingers travel downwards before he inserts one finger into your awaiting hole, slowly stretching you open, his grip on your wrists never falter once as his other hand works wonders, plunging in and out of you, creating lewd sounds.

He inserts another finger, curling them upward, grazing that spot causing you to clench around him in arousal, he repeats his motions and soon you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you. “Fuck- the way your cunt is fluterring around my fingers- i need it to do that on my cock.” he pulls his finger out, before inserting them in your mouth.

“Clean it up.” he commands and you obey, tongue swirling around his digits and sucking as you clean your wetness off of his fingers, he pulls out his fingers and kisses you instead, groaning when he feels the tangy taste of you on his tongue.

He pulls away from the kiss, “Keep your mouth open.” He tells you and you obey, and he purses his lips before spitting in your mouth, you flinch when you feel it land. “Swallow.” you shut your eyes tightly and do as he said.

“Good girl.” He praises you, and the praise goes straight to your core, causing you to push your thighs together.

He lets go of your hands, before getting up slightly and changing positions.

He flips you on to your stomach, before pulling your ass up, causing you to balance on your all fours as he kneels behind you.

“Fuck, I do not have a condom.” he mutters and you turns slightly to look at him, “It's fine, I'll take a pill in the morning.” you assure him and he nods.

He grabs you by your waist before shoving himself deep inside you in one swift thrust, causing you to moan and fall on your elbows at the sudden intrusion, he grabs your waist tightly before starting to move, thrusting in and out.

Your body jolts front and backwards at the intensity of his thrusts, one of his hands leave your waist to grab your tits, giving them a squeeze before the same hand collects your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail and he tugs on it, causing you to shift back on your hands again.

He uses your hair and waist as leverage to fuck brutally into you, his pace never faltering once, he grunts and groans when you clench around him, “Look at you, taking my cock so well.” he praises you, the hand gripping your waist goes downwards to your front, finding your clit.

He rubs fast circles unto it while thrusting, making you gasp as you feel your high approaching, “Fuck- Aeg- I'm gonna cum.” you blabber, and as soon as he hears that, he rubs your clit even faster, causing you to reach your peak once again.

You moan loudly into the room as the pleasure courses through you, your cunt clenching around him in pleasure which makes him throw his head back, “ ‘m gonna cum inside you” he murmurs as his thrusts turn sloppy before he comes to a sudden halt, spurting his hot cum inside you, only to move slowly again, riding his orgasm out.

He pulls out and watches as his spend leaks out of you, before collecting it on his finger, and tasting it, along with your juices.

He flips you onto over your back, and you breath heavily, trying to come down from the high, until you feel him once again at your entrance.

You look at him in confusion.

“Oh you didn't think we were done yet, were you?” he smirks.

Oh gods.

[zannilove]

Savoring the Moment

Word count — 1,505 Character(s): Zayne x non-descipt!reader Warnings: None Note: No note. Just enjoy, if you want^^

It’s a quiet evening in Zayne’s apartment, the soft hum of the city below blending with the faint glow of streetlights streaming through the window. You have the key, the one he entrusted to you months ago, and today marks your first anniversary. Your plan was simple but meaningful: surprise him with his favorite meal, a little gesture to show how much he means to you.

Your heart races as you unlock the door, the anticipation buzzing through your veins. Your palms feel slightly clammy, and you rub them against your jeans in an attempt to steady yourself. The apartment smells faintly of him; the subtle mix of cologne, the faint trace of his aftershave, the kind of scent you’ve grown to recognize even after just a few months. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. But then, reality sinks in. You head straight for the kitchen, determined to make this surprise work.

The excitement of the idea gives way to nerves as you start unpacking the ingredients. You had spent hours planning, watching cooking tutorials, and imagining how it would go, how it would impress him, how you’d surprise him with a perfect meal. But now that you’re standing there, apron on, everything feels foreign and overwhelming. The knife feels too big in your hand, the handle awkward and slippery as you try to steady your grip. The stove flickers to life, its steady blue flame suddenly feeling like an unpredictable force you must tame. Your fingers tremble as you start pulling things out, trying to recall the steps, but the instructions blur in your mind.

The pasta. You toss it in, praying that you remember the right amount of water. But then it’s too late. You’re left staring at soggy, overcooked noodles that won’t quite break apart. Panic sets in, your chest tightening as you look down at the mess you’ve made. You try to salvage the sauce, but it’s a thick, clumpy mess that sticks to the spoon in all the wrong ways. You stir furiously, your heart pounding louder than the bubbling pot, but nothing helps. The smell of burnt garlic mixed with something else. It makes you cringe.

You pause, breathing in shallowly. The weight of the evening, the nerves, the thought that you may have completely messed this up, settles on your shoulders. This was supposed to be something sweet, something to show him how much he means to you, and here you are, standing in a disaster of your own making.

And then you hear the door. The sound of keys in the lock. Zayne’s voice, low and steady, echoes from the entryway. You freeze, panic rising in your throat. He’s home. You can’t stop it now. The mess, the disaster! You’ve failed before he even steps foot in the kitchen.

But then you hear his footsteps, and you’re not ready for the soft, teasing note in his voice when he steps inside. “You were cooking dinner for us?” he says, and you almost want to hide from the gentle amusement in his tone.

Turning, you force a smile, trying to mask the embarrassment that floods you. “I... I tried?” you say, lifting your hands in mock surrender. “Guess I’m not cut out for this after all.”

Zayne chuckles, his tired eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you. There’s no anger, no disappointment, just a quiet amusement that somehow puts you at ease. His voice is gentle but teasing. “Lucky for you, I’m great at saving disasters,” he says, stepping forward and placing a hand on your shoulder with a playful smile. “Let me help.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension slowly unwinding as he moves past you to take charge. Even after the long day he's had, he’s still so calm, so effortlessly reassuring. Without missing a beat, Zayne takes over with the ease of someone who’s spent countless hours in a high-pressure environment, his hands moving with purpose and precision. The calm efficiency with which he works is almost surgical, and you can’t help but watch in awe as he brings the dish back to life. His movements are smooth and practiced, like he’s in control of every detail, a stark contrast to your earlier frantic attempts.

He chuckles softly as he adjusts the heat on the sauce, adding a few more ingredients with the same precision he might use to make a life-saving decision in the operating room. You can see the way his mind works, focused, deliberate, and yet completely in tune with the moment. As the sauce begins to simmer and the fragrance of the meal starts to fill the room, you realize he’s transformed the disaster into something that actually smells delicious.

As he works, you lean against the counter, feeling the shift in the air. The tension of the day seems to melt away from him in your presence, his shoulders visibly relaxing. There’s a grace in his movements, one that extends beyond the operating room, a quiet confidence that makes everything he does seem effortless. It draws you in closer, not just to him, but to the calm, steady rhythm that he’s created around you both. His presence fills the space, and you feel at home here, in his space, with him.

He notices your gaze, offering a teasing smile before he turns back to the task at hand. "You know," he says, his voice low and warm, "if you want, I could teach you how to chop vegetables properly. It's kind of like... surgical precision." He winks, his smile playful but gentle.

You raise an eyebrow. "Surgical precision, huh?"

"Exactly." He chuckles, moving closer to you with a quiet confidence. "Here, let me show you." He reaches for the knife, gently placing it in your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. The simple touch sends a ripple of warmth through you.

"Okay, first things first," Zayne says, his voice a soothing guide. "You want to grip the knife like this… firm, but not too tight. And when you slice, think of it like you’re cutting through layers. No pressure, just let the knife glide."

He stands behind you, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands guide yours, adjusting your grip, showing you the right angle. His breath is warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The steady weight of his presence grounds you, his voice a gentle current guiding your movements as the blade glides through the vegetables. Your heartbeat quickens, not from nerves this time, but from the intoxicating closeness of him. You focus on the sound of the knife against the cutting board, and the way Zayne’s hands guide yours with such care.

"Better," he murmurs, his tone full of approval. "You’ve got it now." His praise is soft, like it’s meant just for you, and you feel a swell of pride, not just from the task but from the way he’s looking at you. His eyes are warm, not just with affection but with something deeper, something that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

When the vegetables are chopped, Zayne moves to the stove with effortless grace, his focus shifting back to the meal. The way he carries himself is magnetic, confident but never boastful. As he plates the food, his movements are measured, the dish transforming into something that now looks as good as it smells. He sets the plate down in front of you, his gaze softening as he looks at the finished meal. “Not bad for a surprise,” he says with a grin, a trace of pride in his voice.

You meet his gaze, the warmth in your chest growing as you take the plate. There’s something about this moment, the way he’s not just fixing dinner but fixing the little things that matter, that makes you feel even closer to him. You chuckle; your heart full as you sit at the small dining table. "I think you might have just saved my cooking career," you tease.

The conversation flows easily, and you find yourself relaxing into the evening, the pressure of the day slipping away. As you talk, his gaze never strays far from you. He listens to you like nothing else matters, like your words are the most important thing in the room. It’s a quiet intimacy, one that doesn’t need grand gestures to be felt.

Later, as the plates are cleared and the evening winds down, Zayne’s touch lingers on your skin. He’s beside you, his presence so close, but in that space between words, there’s a deeper connection that speaks louder than anything either of you could say.

Zayne brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin for just a moment too long. His touch is soft, gentle, and when he looks at you, his expression is filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Thank you for tonight," he says, his voice trailing off slightly, like there's more he wants to say but decides against it.

You smile, your gaze softening as you reach for him, letting the moment stretch out. In that quiet, intimate space, you both know that this is more than just a meal or an anniversary, it’s the connection you’ve built, the unspoken understanding between you, and the way Zayne makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the world.

[myromanempiree]

Enchanting; act two

(previously titled: Dreamers with no stars)

thank you for 222+ notes on act one!!

Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: Rhysand sucks, angst, brief description of Eris' legs.

Summary: Will you accept this proposal?

word count: 1.2k

listening to: silver springs by fleetwood mac

“People empty me,

 I have to get away to refill”

-Charles Bukowski 

Recap, or read act one here

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

...

A voice suddenly exclaimed, “Over my wrinkled, dead body!” 

She turned to find Mor, her face flushed and eyes ablaze with anger. Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked towards Eris, her lithe hands crumpled into fists. 

“Morrigan.” Rhysand said,his eyes speaking more words than what came from his mouth. Mor looked up at her High Lord, staring stubbornly at him, before gradually bowing her head and moving away.

Rhysand inhaled and exhaled, steadying himself, before turning to the Archeron sister, seaking her input. She stood there with her eyes averted to the ground, her hand finding the sleeve of her velvet dress. Her mouth opened ever so softly before she closed it, lifting her head to look from Eris to Rhysand, Mor to her sisters. Searching for someone– anyone– to speak on her behalf, to remove her from the room's gaze, to get her out. 

Thankfully, Eris clears his throat, saving her from saying something unacceptable or stupid. “If that is what the lady wants, anyhow,” he adds, with his ever charming smile adorning his features. “I will give you a week to decide.”

… 

The rest of the evening was infinitely more unbearable than the beginning. It was silent, awkwardly so. Not the comforting silence that wraps you in a warm blanket. No attempts at conversation being made, other than Mor encouraging her to stay far from Eris. 

Upon finally returning home, she excused herself quickly. No longer wanting to suffocate in the silence that drowns the family. 

She had quickly paced down the hall, one hand tracing along the lightly patterned cream walls, needing something familiar to keep her steady. Needing the feeling beneath her finger tips to distract from the hurricane of thoughts in her mind.

The other hand balls into a fist, tightening and loosening along with the drum of her heartbeat. She went up the stairs rather quickly, opening her door and going to her room, knocking over the pile of books she'd recently gotten from the library. 

She grabbed the nearest novel and threw it onto her bed, a sound of anguish escaping her throat as she raked a quivering hand through her hair, gripping the strands. She quickly moved to the bedside table, where a decanter was expected to be, yet found it empty. 

A breath slowly left her lips, her hand loosening its grip on the strands of hair, leaving a soothing ache behind. She sat on the bed, running a hand along the tasseled fabric, pulling at one. 

She braced herself for further awkwardness as she dragged herself down the stairs to get more water, slowly moving to peek into the kitchen as she heard shouting. 

“Are you psychotic? She wouldn't last a day in Autumn!” Cassian– presumably– yelled. 

Rhysand countered, “We need her to, Cassian. We can get her out after, but we need this advantage.” 

Amren stepped forward, arms crossed as he sighed. “She's not like any of her sisters, Rhysand. She wouldn't be able to do what we need her to, she's not that type of female..” 

“But with Beron potentially supporting Koschei, we need insider knowledge,” Azriel said slowly, before Mor said, “What the Hel, Azriel! You saw what they did to me!” 

“Trust me, I hate Eris as much as the next, but this could potentially save us,” he told Mor. 

“She couldn't even do it if we sent her.” Feyre said, standing next to Rhysand. 

Her eyes widened as she stood behind the alcove, Eris long forgotten as she heard the distasteful words spoken about her. She slowly stepped forward, then back, her feet dragging along like the lurch of her heart.

As much as she hated the idea of a political marriage, she hated the idea of being dead weight more than anything. Everyone had previously played a role in the safety of her sister's Court. It was high time for her turn. 

Her feet moved quickly past the alcove as she stepped into the kitchen, a set of eyes looking at her. 

“I'll do it.” 

…

Rhysand had quickly gotten in contact with Beron and informed him of her acceptance, before Mor could talk her out of it. Much to most of the Inner Circles displeasure.

She was told not to pack any articles of clothing, and that all would be provided, including the wedding gown. The mere thought had her face immediately scrunching in disgust. 

Feyre had tried to coax her to cancel the engagement as she was putting her things in boxes. Though that hadn't worked, seeing as she now found herself in a new room.

Crisp Autumn air coming in through the cracked window as she put her things away, some maids had offered to help, yet ahe refused. There was a certain way she had wanted it done, and ordering people around felt odd to her. 

So she found herself straightening a series of clay sea creatures Feyre had made her, smiling softly as she moved the sea lion into its place. Gently patting its head with her finger tip, before turning to hang up a map. 

“You are aware that this shall only be your room until the wedding, yes?” A smooth voice said, causing her to almost drop from the odd position of on the chair and on her writing desk that she was in– which, admittedly, wasn't a good idea regardless.

She stepped down to find Eris, an eyebrow raised as he leaned against the door frame. A confident and easy grin on his face, eyes darting to look up at her. “I… when is the wedding? I was never informed.” She said, tilting her head. 

“Three weeks, Beron and Rhysand both want this to be quick.” 

“So you can't back out”, are the words implied. She nods, fidgeting with her fingers, pulling on the appendages to hear a satisfying pop. She awkwardly looks at his feet, the calf-high riding boots that grip his muscled yet lean legs. 

She was never one for idle chatter, small talk was dumb to her. What was the point of it if it was something simple? However, she had no clue what to say to the statuesque man in front of her, so she asked; “Do you have a horse?” 

His eyes flickered with confusion, an eyebrow raised. “Pardon?” he questioned, tilting his head at her in a way that strangely reminded her of a dog. “Riding riding boots, I think those are what you're wearing. Do you have a horse?”

“Ah, yes. Maybe one-day I'll take you on a ride. After our marriage, of course.” Genesis nodded, thanking him and watching as he left. Burying her face into her hands after realizing the innuendo of his words, she now knew that ‘Thank you’ was not a proper way to address his words. 

This further reminds her of their future marital duties, and in three weeks time, she would be in bed with Eris Vanserra

Three weeks couldn't come slow enough.

Taglist: @babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness @thecraziestcrayon @minnieoo @nebarious @rcarbo1 @anyzandy @starsidesigh @wolvesnravens @96jnie 

Taglist is open! Dm or comment if you want to join

[fever-fluff]

Part I - Quick as a Fox

word count: 2.3k (not proof read)

will contain spoilers for the ACOTAR series

“What could Rhysand possibly need that would be out here, Shadowsinger.” Lucien’s voice was thick with disdain, swatting another branch from the thick brush they walked through.

“Scared of getting you breeches a little dirty, Lucien? Doesn’t seem like you do well in the dirt.” Azriel’s sneer was no better, and the innuendo about Elain did not fly past Lucien so easily.

“Believe me, its not the first time I’ve gotten it on my knees, maybe you’d like to hear all about my time in the garden last week-” Lucien was quick to block the fist aiming for his gut, but it threw him off balance all the same, soft ground beneath him not much to grip.

Azriel came at him again, “Shut your filthy mouth, Vanserra.” Lucien just laughed at the male’s brazen behaviour towards the female he’d tried to snatch for himself. It had been months now since the last solstice, and the catastrophe of the necklace had caused a rift between Azriel and Elain that Lucien had, without regret, used to his advantage. Elain was mated to him, and he’d agreed to Rhys’ wish of not inciting a blood rite  over the shadowsingers obvious display of disrespect.

He had not pushed Elain in the slightest with his affections, but he had made it clear they were there. And after finding a bitterness under all that façade of sweet, Lucien had coaxed it out. It turned out she had more in common with Nesta than they’d all first thought, and he relished in the fire when she let it out.

The two tumbled as they fought, both to engrossed in getting another blow to the others face when they stumbled down a concealed ridge. They had separated just as the reached the bottom, and went to got at it again until Lucien noticed what they’d fallen into.

“Mother above”

Azriel looked to what was behind him, sucking in a breath and the grove of statues they’d landed in. “What the damned is this place?” walking around, the two noticed now that they were not statues, but petrified bodies of fae of all kinds. Lucien stopped in front of a certain one, loosing a shudder as he recognised the face in front of him. “I can’t be…”

Azriel joined his side, analysing the kneeling figure in from of him. The arms were twisted as if two fae had hold of her while the magic took effect. A sneer crossed her features, and he felt a shiver as he though of what it might have looked like in flesh. There was pure hatred in those eyes, and the snarl of her lips was something that he’d only seen on the most animalistic of his kind. Though she looked to be high fae, with pointed sharp ears, her demeanour was something he’d place in a wild beast.

“We need to free her.” “Are you mad?!” Lucien had already turned and began sifting through his sack, pulling viles as he went. “Lucien, who the Hel is she?!” he started mixing different liquids together, the mixture turning all different shades of different colours too quick for Azriel to catch.

“Someone who may be able to help.” “Hah…?”

Before Azriel could stop him, Lucien poured the new potion on to the top of the statue, and waited as it took effect. It was a simple reversal but depending on the depth of the initial fae's magic when she had been petrified, the time to undo the curse was debatable.

So they sat a respectable distance apart, and watched the statue like hawks. The sun had started to dip in the sky by the time they noticed the stone slowly shift, and a pale complexion took its place. Her chest began to slowly rise and fall, and a flutter of her eyelids became stronger as the hours passed on.

The moon had taken its place in the sky, and both males had drifted off into the land of the unconscious until they heard harsh coughing. The statue, now skin, moved achingly while the faes body returned to normal. Lucien cautiously moved towards her with a canister of water, “Fox, its alright, we’re not here to harm you...” The slap of the canister from Lucien’s hand was quick and strong, too strong for someone who had atrophied for mother only knows how long now. What was even more miraculous was the speed she moved towards the brush to their right, finding a small stream to gulp out of heavily. Azriel made to move on her, but Lucien held his hand up as a signal to wait, “don’t spook her, unless you don’t like having limbs anymore.”

Once she’d had her fill, she turned her eyes to the two of them, and he could have sworn they flickered between a serpent’s slits to the fae oval. As she spoke, her voice cracked from years of disuse, but he could hear the power she could wield it with, “I suggest you both start talking before you have no more tongues to do so.”

Azriel’s responding growl was low, truth-teller now grasped in his hand as he etched closer to her, “you shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on, bitch. In your state, this is going to go only one way. With your throat at my bla-”

Too fast. Way too fast for someone only after waking from such a long prison did the woman lunge for Azriel, snapping at his wrist with both hands and knocking the knife from his hand. He didn’t have time to reach for another as her body morphed, twisting into muscle and scales, wrapping round his body and wings and tightening instantly. She’d wrapped the latter half of her body round him like a snake, leaving her upper body in the fae state and sneered when he choked for air as she squeezed, “what was that? Sorry, I cant hear you over your own spit.”

��Fox, let him go, please.” Lucien had backed up, hands in surrender. Her gaze moved to him, and the recognition that lanced through her eyes did nothing to ease the grip she had on Azriel’s body. “I never thought I’d see a child of autumn beg for the life of an Illyrian.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know. But the High Lord of Night won’t take it well if you kill his spymaster on my watch.” Finally, she eased herself off, and Aziel gasped for the precious air he’d missed. She’d put a reasonable amount of distance between them all, still on guard with how the serpentine part of her body coiled like a spring. Once he’d finally reached his feet again, she started looking for answers, “How long have I been asleep? How do you know who I am?”

“If my brother’s words are something to go off of, half a century, maybe more.” Lucien flashed her that goddamned smile, “I’m Lucien, Beron’s youngest son.”

That didn’t seem to placate her like he’d hoped, and Lucien wasn’t quick enough to move away from her attack. Talons retched from her fingernails, and she had him in her grip before he even had a chance to realise. “I suggest you keep his name out of your mouth, child, before I really do rip out your tongue.”

“He’s telling the truth, he’s a Vanserra.” Azriel wouldn’t make it in time to stop her if she made for his neck. She snorted, “And what makes you think I would believe a word that comes out of your mouth, Shadowsinger.” Shit, she’d caught on to his shadows. He pulled them back from the two, holding up his hands in the fashion Lucien had before. “You know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the little toy the High Lord of Night uses in his arsenal of weapons, though congrats on the promotion. Spymaster seems fitting for your type of… constitution.”

She’s turned her attention back to the redhead lying beneath her, “If you are telling the truth, my lord won’t be too happy if I slit this lovely, tanned neck of yours. So, I suggest you both stay where you are until I am far enough away to not turn back and change my mind.”

“wha-”

She was gone before the two could blink.

“What in gods damned was that, Lucien?!” Azriel’s anger was far beyond livid. But the autumn male simply stood, rubbing at his neck, still feeling the ghost of her claws on his skin.

“Her name’s fox. She’s been missing since before the war. One of the most dangerous fae Beron ever had under his control. He used to tell me stories of her, to scare me into going to bed.”

“And you didn’t think waking her would be a bad idea, considering she has no clue who you are?!” Lucien winced under his tone, “I thought she’d smell that we were related, nothing gets past her senses. But I suppose I really didn’t think…”

“Rhysand is gonna be pissed, you realise this?” Azriel started to pace. If they really had released something like that with no safeguards, nothing to stop her from returning to Autumn, they could be in for a lot more trouble with Beron than they first expected.

“Yea, I know.” The two made to go back to Velaris, winnowing silently.

Quick. Quick as a fox. You need to be fast, faster than anything that might catch you. His voice rang in your ears as you sprinted through the thicket, four paws pushing silently off the ground at each lurch of your body. Come on, fox. I know you’re faster than that. The hounds are going to rip you to shreds if they catch you, I wont hold them back. Gods, you needed to run. If you were still in the grove, that meant you were only one court away from Autumn, the winter court.

Sure enough, a border of ice and snow came into view, and the fur you wore changed from the fire red of his hair to the white of winter. They’d never feel you breach the border; animals came and went as seasons changed, even in the eternal courts. And your winter body would blend you into one of them long enough for you to pass through unnoticed. You’d run, run as fast as you could until you reached him.

Five hundred years you haven’t been watching from the shadows. Watching and waiting. You knew the day they took you he wouldn’t look for you. You had failed him, had gotten caught. You are my fox, quick and sly. But if you get caught in a snare, there will be nothing I can do to stop the hunters from claiming their game.

Hours had passed until you reached the land of Autumn, and your body returned to the red that you never forgot in your imprisonment. It was all you could remember of him, that and his cruel disposition. You had forgotten his eyes, but never the feeling as they landed on you with cold contempt.

You made for the cabin on the base of the mountains. You knew he’d keep it warded. And all you had to do was cross the threshold and he’d come for you.

Being encased in that stone should have turned you mad, but the hot anger you had been laced with for the change had kept you burning with sanity. You would be no good to him if you’d freed yourself and come back with no wits. So it had burned, for year upon year, until the red head idiot decided he knew who you were and released you.

He hadn’t smelt like Beron, you’d checked. Lady of Autumn, sure, but Beron was no where in his blood. You wondered what happened there.

The cabin was in sight when you felt your legs give out. Shifting back, you wobbled on fae legs to the front of the porch. But you couldn’t sit. If he came and couldn’t remember you, you’d have to make fast work at fleeing before he decided you were a threat to his oasis.

It didn’t take long for the beating of hooves and the pounding of paws to reach your ears. Light flickered in the distance, one lone torch among the forest of orange and yellow.

Standing steady, you raised your head as the face you’d forgotten became clear. Gods, now that it was in front of you again, you realised it had never left you. It haunted your dreams, your nightmares, and every waking moment you sat kneeling in that grove. You'd only forgotten that it was real, and not a figment of your trapped mind.

Nothing was said as the hounds came charging, ready to tear whatever decided to breach their master’s property. But the wave of scent you let wash over you had them stopping in their tracks. Now unsure of whether you were truly the threat they were first ordered to rid.

“State your business, before I am no longer lenient with my dogs’ lag.” He voice sounded harder than you could think to remember. You hated it, wondering what he'd done in the time you were gone to sound like that. But you bowed deep, knee hitting the wood beneath you in reverence, “my lord.”

You didn’t dare lift your head, couldn’t bear it if you looked up and saw nothing of recognition in his eyes. But the sharp inhale, small enough that only you would ever hear it, loosed the fear filling your chest. “Fox?” you smiled.

“It’s been a long time, Eris.”

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 2 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Your first full day in King's Landing, and you get the lay of the land at the Kingsroad Country Club.

word count: 3.8k

detailed warning under the cut

warnings: language

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

note: as always, likes, comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated! Let me know what you think, if you'd like to be tagged, etc. 💙

A sharp knock on your door wakes you from the deepest sleep of your life. Baela has a way of knocking, but not knocking. By the second rap of her knuckles, she’s already opening the door and entering the room, clad in a baby blue tennis skirt and a matching top. 

Her silver curls are held away from her face in a high ponytail as she sits on the edge of your bed. 

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” she tells you as you groan, pressing your face back into the softness of your pillow. 

“This is the comfiest bed….I’ve ever slept in….in my whole life,” you tell her, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“That’s because you’ve been sleeping on a twin xl for the past five months,” she says snickering, poking your sides.

You try to roll away from her, burrowing deeper into the soft plush comforter. 

“Whaaaa,” you moan, pushing her hands away.

“Come on, we have things to do,” she tells you.

With a groan, you roll over to face her. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head. 

“Kingsroad Country Club,” she tells you, “We’ll grab breakfast there with Rhae.”

She stands up moving to your closet. 

“Bring a bathing suit,” she tells you, “The pool is amazing, we can see if anyone interested has come home for the summer.”

You raise an eyebrow at her as she paws through your clothes. You’d only just started to unpack the previous night, before giving in to the temptation of sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about Baela’s stupid uncle either, which only made completing your task of unpacking more frustrating. 

“Interesting?” you ask and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“A summer fling never hurt anyone,” Baela teases. 

“Okay, let’s do it,” you agree, and she shuts your closet door.

“Meet me downstairs!” she calls, closing the door behind her. 

You quickly get dressed in a simple sundress and after a quick trip across the bay in Baela’s skiff, you dock outside of the Kingsroad Country Club. 

You follow Baela’s lead after you make sure Moondancer is safely roped so she won’t drift back into Blackwater Bay. The country club is just as extravagant as everything else appears to be in King’s Landing. A woman smiles at you as you pass in front of the signup booth for the regatta. Baela leads you past the massive pool and toward the balcony as you arrive; it’s filled with white and blue umbrellas on glass tables, surrounded by white linen chairs. 

The balcony overlooks several tennis courts, with several people engaged in singles and doubles matches. Further out you spot a golf course, acres of green grass as far as you can see.  

“Breakfast here is bomb,” Baela tells you, “Seriously, the best Eggs Benedict I’ve ever had.”

As you sit for breakfast examining the menu, Baela continues to talk about all the fun things she has planned for this summer, while putting in an order of mimosas for the table. Rhaena joins a few moments later, in a heated conversation with Helaena. 

“There’s no rush, right?” Helaena says to Rhaena as they sit.

“It’s a month away, of course, there’s a rush!” Rhaena says, taking a sip of the water provided.

“For what?” Baela asks.

“The auction? The gala?” Rhaena answers, “Please tell me you told Y/N about the gala.”

Baela glances at you sideways and Rhaena rolls her eyes.

“Okay perfect, so Hel and Y/N need outfits,” Rhaena sighs, “The club hosts a gala and an auction each year for the regatta, it's really fun! Families donate artifacts, art, stuff like that and spend a shit ton of money.”

A waiter stops by, delivering mimosas and taking your breakfast orders. 

“It was fun maybe when we were like twelve,” Baela tells her, “It’s a fashion show. A night for our family to pretend they’re perfect.”

“You’re just mad Dad wants us to go together,” Rhaena scolds, frowning.

Baela clenches her jaw, narrowing her eyes at her twin. 

“Exactly,” she answers, to Rhaena’s surprise, “Alicent doesn’t make her kids go, why should I be forced?”

“Oh my Mom forces us alright,” Helaena says smiling, “She was beyond pissed when Aegon and I skipped last year, I thought her head was going to explode. I’m going.”

“Why though?” Baela asks, groaning dramatically and slumping in her seat, “It’s medieval.”

“Because I want to wear a dress and look pretty,” Helaena says grinning, “Come on Bae, you’ll look like such a pretty princess.”

Helaena stretches her hand, poking Baela’s cheek causing you to chuckle. Helaena keeps sing-songing ‘pretty princess’ until Baela swats her hand away. 

“Remember when we all wore those matching dresses? Talk about medieval,” Helaena snorted.

Rhaena spares a laugh then, biting her lip at the memory. 

“Please, Bae?” she asks, “Plus, you have to let Y/N experience it, it’s a magical night.”

Baela glances at you and you shrug nonchalantly.

“I polish up real nice,” you tell her.

“Don’t quote Taylor Swift to me,” she groans, but a smile appears on her lips, “Okay fine.”

Rhaena squeals and claps her hands together.

“So…no to the matching dresses or….?” Helaena asks, answered by a unanimous chorus of no.

A whistle startles you from your conversation as Aegon jogs over to your table, sunglasses dangling off his nose, violet eyes peering over the edge. He arrives just as the waiter returns with your food, distributing your plates. 

“Ladies,” he muses, placing his hands on the back of Helaena’s chair and leaning forward.

“Go away,” Baela tells him, causing him to pout, “You’re ruining my meal.”

“I come bearing gifts,” he says, pulling a joint from where it was hidden in his hair. 

He holds it out between his fingers before Helaena reaches up, snatching it from him and placing it behind her own ear. 

“Thanks,” she tells him, and he hums.

“Happy to be of service,” he says, snatching a triangle of toast from her plate.

“Fucking vulture!” she hisses, swatting him as he hurries away.

“Where’s he off to?” Rhaena muses.

“Probably skulking around the pool looking for an unsuspecting girl with low self-esteem,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes. 

Your eyes follow Aegon who does not head toward the pool but instead down the steps toward the tennis courts. As you see who’s waiting for him you can’t help but roll your eyes. Aemond twirls a racket in his hand, clad in three-quarter-length green tennis shorts accentuating the muscles of his thighs. 

He wears a simple white t-shirt molded to his torso. You assume he’s already played a set, as a man with dark hair leaves the court, patting Aegon on the shoulder as he takes his place. Aemond takes a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, revealing the v-line that disappears down his shorts. He runs a hand through his silver hair; it's kept shorter on the sides, and a bit longer on the top accentuating his sharp features. 

Aegon says something to his brother, and Aemond meets your gaze. You scowl before looking away, not missing the satisfied smirk that appears on Aemond’s face at your reaction. Your cheeks flush and you take a sip of your mimosa trying to hide your annoyance. 

“What is his problem?” you mumble, as Baela sips her mimosa.

“Who?” Rhaena asks, following your gaze, “Oh-”

“You got off on the wrong foot, that’s all,” Helaena tells you, “But he’ll warm up. Aemond takes a while to defrost.”

“A while? Try years,” Baela says chuckling, “Seriously you’re good, Y/N. Don’t even worry about it.”

You chew on your lower lip, anxiety swirling in your stomach. 

“I feel like I said something wrong last night,” you tell them, “I pissed him off somehow.”

The cousins exchange glances before Rhaena sighs, accepting that she’ll be the person to spill the dirty details. You raise your eyebrows at her, expectantly.

“So your sailor comment, about Luke?” Rhaena says, jogging your memory.

You nod, wordlessly encouraging her to continue.

“Luke and Aemond have history,” she begins, somewhat beating around the bush, “It’s kind of complicated-”

“It’s not,” Baela interrupts, “Look, our family is a soap opera, right? Well for the longest time, they tried to make us all get along, force us to do like ‘family bonding activities’ and it came back to bite them in the ass.”

Tension hangs in the air as she speaks, and you sense they haven’t told you an essential piece of information. 

“I’m not following,” you tell them.

The twins glance at Helaena, who sighs while running a hand through her hair.

“There was an accident. A boating accident, Luke didn’t do what he was supposed to, and…” she trails off, “Aemond lost his eye because of it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your heart falling into your stomach.

“It wasn’t his fault, I mean we were all kids, and my dad, he never thought things through, ever,” Helaena says sighing, “We were just kids. If it's anyone’s fault it was his.”

Panic bubbles in your throat, heat rising to your face as you glance back at the tennis court. You hear the smack of the tennis ball against his racket as Aemond swings, making Aegon sprint to the opposite side to try and catch the ball. 

“I had no idea, fuck,” you begin, “Shit, I should say something.”

Helaena shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells you, “I mean, you can try, but Aemond’s pretty closed off.”

“Aemond’s been a dick since we were kids,” Baela tells you. 

But you feel like you have to. Aemond had been a dick to you, but you hadn’t meant to poke at a wound. You’d say something.

Daeron and Luke run by quickly, both clad in swim trunks, speaking rapidly about something while hunched around Daeron’s iPhone. Rhaena frowns, taking a sip from her mimosa as they make a beeline toward the regatta sign-up booth. 

“Daeron!” Helaena calls, waving them over.

The boys stop, not looking up, but head toward the table. 

“What’re you doing?” Helaena asks, rising from her seat and reaching for her brother’s phone.

“Give it Hel!” Daeron says, but Helaena is quicker, with years of practice being surrounded by brothers. 

She glances at the screen, eyebrows furrowing together before she rolls her violet eyes.

“Not this again,” she comments as Daeron snatches the phone, his ears turning red. 

“We need it!”

“You say that every year!” Helaena teases.

“Need what?” you ask.

“Every year, they go on a treasure hunt, for Aegon the Conqueror's lost ruby crown,” Helaena tells you.

“Who’s Aegon the Conqueror?” you ask.

“Some dickhead who thought he was discovering King’s Landing but instead ruined the lives of the indigenous people who were here before him,” Baela tells you. 

“He had a cool crown though,” Luke comments, “And if we find it, it’s good luck for the regatta.”

“You don’t need luck,” Rhaena tells him, “You’ve spent nearly all your free time on Arrax, you have this in the bag.”

Luke gives her a pained expression, his cheeks turning pink at her praise. 

“I guess so,” he tells her. 

Baela blows a raspberry, ruffling Luke’s hair. He makes a noise of protest, quickly trying to fix the mess she’s made. 

“You know Arrax like the back of your hand,” she confirms, “You got this.”

“They’re right, dude,” Daeron comments, “It’s all good.”

“Says the person who doesn’t have to do it,” Luke says.

Daeron shrugs. 

“Blame my mom. I don’t get why I have to visit Uncle Ormund,” Daeron groans, “Oldtown is so fucking boring.”

“Why doesn’t she make Aemond go?” Luke asks.

“Because he’s mom’s favorite,” Daeron answers immediately, earning a slap on the back of the head from Helaena, “OW!” 

“Mom doesn’t have favorites,” Helaena insists as Daeron punches her in the arm. 

He flinches as Helaena smacks him again, yelling and scrambling away from her. Luke laughs at the sight and you can’t help but giggle as well. Helaena seems so dreamy, with her head in the clouds, but she’s tough having grown up among three brothers. 

Rhaena grabs Helaena’s glass, moving it out of the way as Daeron twists her arm, causing her to bump into the table.

“You little shit!” she yelps, stomping on his foot.

Daeron releases her with a pained gasp, hopping out of reach. Luke tugs his shoulder, directing him toward the sign-up booth. 

“Assholes,” Helaena mutters, falling back into her seat. 

You can’t help but giggle at their antics. You watch as they make it to the sign-ups, crouching over the sheet to write their names. You smile at the boys. If there is still tension between the sides of the family, at least Luke and Daeron seem to get along. And you’re really liking Helaena. 

“You provoked him,” Rhaena teases and Helaena’s mouth drops open, “Kidding!”

Helaena puts on her sunglasses before taking a bite of her eggs. 

“What are your plans for the day?” she asks, through a mouthful.

Baela makes a face before answering.

“I’m thinking we will keep today pretty chill. Drinks by the pool, maybe visit the spa. Oh! And we have to rent you a racket,” Baela says smiling.

“For what?” you ask.

“Tennis, dummy!” Baela says, rolling her eyes, “Rich kid special, I’m going to teach you the sport we were all forced to.”

“Five summers of tennis camp,” Rhaena says grimacing, “Another family bonding experience where we all nearly murdered each other.”

“This family is strangely fucking competitive,” Helaena agrees, nodding. 

You laugh and continue eating your breakfast. Helaena and Rhaena promise to join you later on but disappear as you make your way to the pool. 

“Baela!” the woman at the regatta sign-up calls as you and Baela walk past.

Baela stops, smiling begrudgingly at the woman. Though she’s wearing a sun hat, the bridge of her nose is red from the sun. She smiles as you and Baela approach. 

“Hey Mrs. Redwyne,” Baela says politely.

“I was curious if you’re planning on entering this year?” Mrs. Redwyne asks, motioning to the sign-up sheet.

“Oh no, not this year,” Baela says, shaking her head, “I think my dad might, but I’m just trying to have a relaxing summer.”

“I see,” Mrs. Redyne says, eyes flickering to someone else who approaches.

“Are you signing up?” Luke says, panting as though he booked it back over to the booth.

“Chill,” Baela tells him, “No I’m just looking.”

It seems Mrs. Redwyne lost interest after Baela told her she wasn’t competing. Baela nudges your arm, nodding towards the pool, just as a group of guys joins you at the booth. 

“Hey Bae,” a curly-haired boy says, leaning down to the sign-ups. 

He wets his lips, signing his name in a quick flourish. 

“Didn’t realize you were home,” he says, handing the pen back to Mrs. Redwyne.

He stands straight and smiles, flashing rows of pearly white teeth. 

“Who’s your friend?” the curly-haired boy asks, peering around Baela to look at you. 

You meet his warm, brown eyes, blushing at his stare. Whoever he is, he’s handsome. 

“My roommate, best friend,” Baela says, introducing you, “She’s staying for the summer.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking your hand and smiling, “I’m Will.”

“Y/N,” you tell him, returning his smile.

He smiles like a politician trying to win votes; it’s sweet, disarming. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, and your stomach does flip-flops. Not a totally unpleasant feeling. 

“You gonna compete?” he asks, nodding to the sign-ups.

“Me? No, I don’t really sail. I’ll be cheering Luke from the sidelines,” you tell him.

“Damn, already chosen a side, I respect that,” he says, crossing his arms, “Though I bet I can change your mind.”

“How so?” you ask, surprised at your flirtatious tone.

It’s easy, here in King’s Landing. You don’t really know anyone, you’ve got nothing to lose.

“Reigning champs, last three years,” he not so subtly brags, “The Golden Rose is undefeated.” 

“Impressive,” you tell him, nodding in appreciation. 

“Hardly,” a familiar voice drolls from behind you.

Aemond walks by, Aegon by his side. They’d finished their set, both sweaty and glistening in the morning sun. A shame they’re dicks. They’re undoubtfully hot as fuck. It seems the worst guys always are. Aemond’s eye flickers between you and Will, lip curling upwards in a sneer. 

“Are you finally competing?” Will asked, eyes widening, “If I remember correctly, you’re not that fond of sailing.”

Aemond shrugs, and Will chuckles nervously.

“Dude, do you even have a boat?” he asks, causing his friends to chuckle in response.

“We’ve got Sunfyre,” Aegon tells him, “Beautiful, my girl is.”

“Bro,” Will says, placing a hand over his heart, “You’d compete against me?”

“We’re not competing,” Aemond says before Aegon can answer, “Though if we were, it wouldn’t be much of a  challenge.”

Aemond’s gaze travels to Luke when he says the last part. Luke shies away from his uncle’s gaze, the tips of his ears reddening. You bite your tongue, turning back to Will.

“I’d like to see your boat,” you tell him, desperate to release some of the tension.

Will smiles, brown eyes returning to yours.

“It’s a date,” he tells you, “Can I get your number?”

You nod and he hands you his phone. You quickly plug in the digits. 

“Just so you know, my loyalties still lie with Luke,” you tell him cheekily.

Will laughs at that.

“We’ll see,” he says, taking his phone, “Nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“Likewise,” you tell him.

Will and his friends leave toward the golf course, several of them clasping him on the back. You can’t help but blush. A little summer fling could go a long way. And he is cute.

Aegon shakes his head, moving towards the bar, but Aemond stays put. Baela juts out her lower lip, humming appreciatively.

“Y’know, for once I think Aegon has the right idea,” she muses, “I’ll grab drinks and meet you by the pool?” 

“Sounds good,” you tell her, and she’s off. 

You figure now is as good a time as any to apologize for the previous night. You steady yourself, pulling back your shoulders, but Aemond speaks first.

“Will Tyrell,” he says, shaking his head, “Figures.”

You arch an eyebrow at him.

“The fuck does that mean?” you ask, crossing your arms. 

Aemond smirks.

“Figures you’d be into pretty boys,” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“If that were true I’d be into you,” you snap, eyes widening realizing what you’ve said.

Aemond raises his brows, his smirk only growing. 

“Which I’m not,” you anxiously clarify.

His seeing eye narrows and suddenly he’s looking at you differently, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looks you up and down. You turn your head, looking towards the bar. Baela’s still there, leaning forward and chatting with the bartender as he starts the blender. 

“Course,” Aemond says, beginning to walk away. 

You bite your lip. Fucking always putting your foot in your mouth. 

“Wait!” you call and he turns, “I just…about last night.”

Aemond purses his lips, holding a hand up to stop you.

“Don’t,” he says, beginning to turn away.

“But-”

“Seriously,” he warns and continues walking before disappearing into the clubhouse. 

But you’re determined, and you follow him inside despite your feet wanting to take you in the opposite direction. You walk into a ballroom, and see Aemond across the room grabbing a water bottle from a fully stocked table. 

You head towards him but are stopped by a familiar face.

“Hi!” Floris says smiling, ear to ear, “Are you signing anything up for the auction?”

Your breath leaves your lungs seeing her and you struggle to find your words.

“Um…I…no,” you tell her, shaking your head. 

Floris looks at you questioningly.

“Okay, well if you change your mind, we’re here to register items daily from 11-3,” she says, motioning to a table beside her. 

“Thanks,” you tell her, moving toward Aemond.

“Hey!” you call, catching his attention.

Aemond looks at you, releasing a deep, exasperated sigh. 

This motherfucker. 

“Look, I’m sorry if I said something to offend you,” you begin, “Not my intention, and you don’t have to worry about ever interacting with me again.”

“Sounds far-fetched,” he comments, sipping his water.

“What?” you ask incredulously. 

This man is giving you a headache.

“You’re staying with my family, we’re bound to run into each other,” he tells you, violet eyes aglow as if he’s enjoying the argument. 

“Well I’ll do my best to stay out of your way,” you tell him, “You should do the same.”

“Should I?” he ponders, “You’re awfully demanding.”

You squint at him, jaw slacking in shock. Aemond’s lip curls into a smirk. You breathe in, ready to retaliate, but release a breathy laugh instead. 

“You know what? Okay,” you tell him, pressing your lips together in a tight line.

You turn away from him, retreating the way you came. Floris watches you depart, her eyes flickering from Aemond to you, a sour expression on her pretty face. You smile politely at her as you pass, which she does not return. 

You frown. Even trying to be nice comes back to bite you. Sheesh. You hear Baela call your name as you return to the outside deck and she holds two glasses filled with a pink slush and decorated with little umbrellas. You sigh, before putting on your sunglasses and making your way over to her. 

After you head back to Driftmark for an afternoon nap, you plan to grab dinner at Dragonstone, but the weather does not cooperate (much to Baela’s delight).

“Oh no,” she dramatically pouts, watching the rain splash against the glass of her window. 

Rhaenys frowns at her, and Baela smiles innocently. 

“Call your father,” she tells Baela, “It’s not safe to be out on the water in this weather.”

“Tell them that,” you say, nodding to the lights you see in the bay.

Someone thinks it’s a good idea to be sailing. You can’t really see who it is, can’t make out anything except one larger sailboat, barely rocked by the choppy surf, while a smaller counterpart is being jolted around by the waves. 

“Unwise to be out in this weather,” Rhaenyrs murmurs, as lightning cracks through the sky, illuminating the bay.

“That kind of looks like…” Baela’s sentence trails off, softly. 

Baela squints and then shrugs, giving up on trying to identify the boats. The loud sounds of thunder shake the very foundations of High Tide, the splatter of rain lulling you into a dreamless sleep later that night. 

The destroyed remains of Luke Velaryon’s ship would not be discovered until early the following morning.

note: what is it about me and cliffhangers?? I just like to keep you guessing, I suppose 😘 LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU ALL!

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @diannnnsss, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @atherverybest, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

@grungegrrrl, @moonlightfoxx

bold means tumblr would not let me tag!

[azsazz]

Creep

Kinktober Day 14: Aidas x Reader [Stalking]

Summary: Anon Req: CC men, do adias lurking on reader in cat form and when she attempts to shoo it away in the rain, he appears in front of her (they're at her apartment door) and brushes muddied water from himself "is that really how you treat a guest? Not to mention royalty?"

I kinda veered from the og request but I tried to get most of it down.

Warnings: Smut, oral (F receiving)

Word Count: 3,520

_________________________________________

The streets are cold but you look warm.

All bundled up in your winter gear; the fur-lined hood of your coat pulled high over your head. The thick, knit cap settled upon your head and the scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, the bottom of your face huddled inside of it to keep the wind from brushing across your face. The only skin exposed are those piercing eyes of yours, accentuated by the rose of your cheeks.

It might very well be his presence that makes the alley grow cold. It is, but Aidas likes to think that the darkened, damp passageways hold an other-worldly sort of chill. It doesn’t feel like a cold he’s known before, it is one he isn’t used to in the existence of this plane.

He can see the way it overcomes your body. Aidas wishes the iciness in the air felt like more of a caress, a brush of snowflakes across pink cheeks instead of frozen claws dragging down your spine, but he doesn’t know how to wield his power for anything other than destruction. 

He could crumble the brick walls in the alley but he finds himself wanting to break yours down one by one. He knows you’re hiding something, the way your pretty eyes keep flickering up and down the alley. It’s dark, and if he were a stupider male he’d think it was an anxious movement, checking your surroundings to make sure you’re not being trailed by the drunkards crowding the streets. But he prides himself in being intelligent. And handsome, but that’s besides the point.

You don’t notice the glowing iciness of his feline eyes, so pale they nearly glow in the darkness. His white fur reflects off of the moon, but you don’t notice that either, from the way that he’s tucked himself beneath the cold metal of the dumpster. It’s leaking something in the corner that he’s stayed far away from…after he’d stepped in the sickly green puddle. 

Gross.

Aidas doesn’t know why you’re here, what has summoned him to the very spot you’re occupying, when it doesn’t seem like you yourself know how you’ve ended up here. The suspicious looks you’re throwing around are enough for him to creep from his spot, pad after you with that preternatural silence he only feels in his feline form. 

You don’t notice. Not right away. He’s good at staying hidden, even more so at blending in, though his arrogance doesn’t allow him to keep concealed for long. As you walk down the long streets, he finds himself wanting those jewel-like eyes on him, not on the passerby and the avenue ahead.

He licks his jowls before mewling. It’s an innocent sort of noise, a beg nearly, and it tastes sour in his mouth. He’s never begged for anything in his life. People beg him, to allow them softer sentences for their crimes, the abhorrent things they’ve done to be sent to his plane of Hel. And not once has he ever given in to any of those pleas.

Your steps falter, halting. The ground is cold, slick with snow that has melted against it. Aidas can feel it in his paws, the ice pricking through his pads. He doesn’t care, it doesn’t affect him, as the cold is wafting from his presence. 

Your breath puffs white clouds into the chill as you turn. He sits, straightens his spine and lifts his chin. It might look like he’s preening to you, but to him, he’s showing off, showing you his confidence, the little white kitten sitting so harmless before you.

Aidas really does feel like preening when you turn those gorgeous eyes on him. You’re suspicious, brows furrowed as you scan the alley, before resting on him. He watches the frown melt from your face into one of awe, and you’re approaching him with a newfound sort of confidence, no longer is the caution draping your shoulders down.

“Hello there, little kitty,” you coo, crouching before him. You stick your hand out for the white animal to sniff, so it doesn’t think that you’re anything dangerous. “What are you doing out here all alone? It’s pretty cold.”

As you say it, Aidas watches the plumes of breath puff from your lips. He could shift right now, tell you that it’s his presence that’s making the streets this cold, but just as you think he doesn’t trust you yet, you also wouldn’t trust him. 

He needs to wait you out, play into your little game.

So, Aidas mews in response, creeping forward to nudge his head against your hand. You’re awfully warm, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of your coat have kept the warmth underneath your skin. The way you turn your hand to scratch behind his ears feels good, and his back arches in pleasure.

Before he can realize what’s going on, you’re lifting him into your arms, a soft smile on your face. He blinks up at you with crystalline blue eyes, head tilting as if in confusion, before the cat rests in the crook of your arms, seemingly wanting to come home with you as badly as you want him to.

“Yeah, you want to come home with me, little guy? Alright, let’s go.” 

Little guy? Aidas would hiss, but he doesn’t like to lean into his cat-like tendencies when he’s in this form. Despite the fact that he finds himself purring into your chest. He stops when he realizes.

The warmth of your body is comforting against the chill of the outdoors. So comfortable that he shuts his eyes and revels in it, allowing you to take him back to your apartment.

He doesn’t realize he’d fallen asleep until you’re placing him down to shuck off your winter gear. He mewls tiredly, already missing the loss of your warmth. He blinks, looking around, tail flicking somewhat impatiently when you don’t acknowledge his mew, instead heading into your kitchen to wash up and fetch a damp towel to clean his paw off with.

Your touch is gentle against his paw. He wonders if he shifted right here, right now, if you would let him bend you over your couch and claim you like the primal part of him wants to. But Aidas doesn’t change, he doesn’t want to scare you away.

Not yet.

You carry him into your room, placing him on the bed where he curls into a tiny ball. You coo at him and it should annoy him, how you’re coddling him, a demon for Solas’ sake, but he enjoys it, because when he switches forms, you won’t be looking at him like that.

He doesn’t follow you into the bathroom like he wants, and you come back changed into a comfortable shirt but no pants. It makes his back curl, and he squeezes his eyes shut, willing the heat creeping towards his cock away.

“Okay, kitty. Time for cuddles,” you coo, scooping him from his spot as you shuffle under the covers. You place the white cat across your stomach, and he scooches up, resting his head between the valley of your breasts. 

He purrs loudly when you begin to stroke his white fur. He’s soft and loving, and the noises he’s making helps take your mind off of the weariness you’ve been feeling lately, when you go out and feel eyes following your every move.

The kitten’s rhythmic purring and its warmth against your chest sends you into a peaceful slumber.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Iciness wakes you.

You blink, the room still filled with darkness, letting you know that it is not yet morning and still have time to sleep. 

It’s freezing in the room, but the fireplace is still raging with flames in the corner of the room. Your nose is cold, and the covers are tucked all the way up to your chin, but you’re still shivering.

The heat at your back doesn’t help much either.

And something doesn’t feel right. Where there was a warmth across your chest of a cat you’d fallen asleep with, it’s no longer there. 

“Aidas,” you whisper, rolling over as you seek him out. He could be pressed against your back instead, so you’re careful as you do so, but your tiredness leaves your body in a rush as you’re met with those bright blue eyes of the kitten you found, only in the form of a fae now.

You screech, trying to shove yourself away from him. If you scream loud enough perhaps your neighbor will call the Aux. Maybe they’ll even make it to your place before the male in your bed kills you.

Aidas has no intentions of doing that, though. He rolls, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists and his hips planted firmly against yours. Your gasp gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of his full cock heavy against your cunt. The only thing stopping him from entering you is the thin fabric of your panties, but as you struggle against his iron grip, the feeling of the crown on his cock pressing into you has you nearly biting through your lip.

“Who are you? Where did you come from?” You whimper, forcing your body still. The air in the room had plummeted, but his body is hot against yours. The pale blue of his eyes nearly glows in the dark, and whispers of his bright blond hair tickle your cheeks as he leans in further.

“Is that really how you treat a guest?” He says, and the liquidity of his voice sounds just like that of a purring cat. His chest rumbles with it, sending shockwaves down your body, collecting between the apex of your legs. The muscles of your thighs jump and Aidas sinks further, a rolling tease that forces the whimper from your mouth. “Not to mention royalty?”

“It is when I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you’ve gotten in my room,” you retort harshly, but the feeling of his taut body against yours attempts to negate the threat lining your voice. He’s much too handsome to be here for anything less than sex. Will he take what he wants from you and more? Why does the thought of him taking exactly what he wants from you causing your cunt to tremble?

The stranger on top of you stares you down, and while it should make you uneasy, it makes you flush. Those piercing eyes remind you of something so familiar, kind of like the kitten you’d rescued from the frozen streets.

Your kitten. Where the fuck is your kitten? Anger lances your body and you buck, struggling anew, but your strength seems to be no match for the male bolting you to the bed with his own body.

“Where is my cat?”

The corner of his mouth quirks at the corner and the beauty of it stuns you for a moment, body falling lax. “You mean you don’t recognize your little kitten?” he all but purrs, leaning down to lap at the sensitive spot of your throat much like how the kitten had lapped with scratchy tongue there. It feels much more sensual now, and your chin tucks away as your eyes flutter shut, giving the stranger more room to work. “I am him, kit.”

“How—” you struggle for breath, “How is that possible?”

Kitten licking across your jaw, Aidas continues. “The first rule about Lunathion, kitten, is not to allow anything inside of your home. Especially, a Prince of Hel.”

Your body fights a shiver creeping up your spine. A Prince of Hel? This male on top of you is one of the Princes of Hel?

All of the warmth leaves your body, replaced by an ice cold dread only he can conjure. But still, your fingers curl into the skin of his tight hips, keeping him pressed firmly into you.

You’ve heard of the Princes of Hel, all seven of them, but you hadn’t known how often they had wandered this plane of existence, nor that they were capable of shifting into animals, let alone such a pristine, innocent looking one much like this one can.

“Which one are you?” You breathe. It’s shallow, as if you might be scared taking too deeply of an inhale of his exquisite scent might drive the last of your self-control from your body. The hot press of his cock at your slick entrance is a jarring reminder that he may be here to hurt you, but there will be pleasure involved first.

Your question seems to strike him, though, confusion crossing his features for a flicker of a second before they’re turning feline again, smile pulling high at the corners and his blue eyes gleaming. You’re not afraid of him, not as much as you should be for a female in front of a Prince. He can smell the sweetness in the air, of your arousal cut with the sharper scent of your fear, and it is utterly delectable. 

“Aidas,” he offers with a roll of his hips. “Prince of the Chasm.”

“Aidas,” you echo, but it’s more of a moan. Your fingers glide across his smooth skin of their own violation, tracing the hills and grooves of muscle packing his lithe body. 

He growls at your name on his lips. Never has it sounded so perfect, so powerful, than it is now, a plea for more on your tongue. 

Aidas’ mouth is hot and claiming as he crawls down your body, removing the shirt you’re wearing as he goes. The fabric reveals the curve of your breasts, which he takes in hand, brushing over your pert nipple with a flick of his tongue while he massages the other, drawing a sharp inhale from you. He’s never tasted anything so euphoric, so addicting. Lust roils through his body as if he’s been hit over the head with it, his light touches turning more forceful, teeth nipping, pulling at the bud of your nipple as he leans back, taking it with him.

You cry out, hips lifting off of the bed to follow him. Your fingers find his silky locks, fisting them as he manhandles you, does so as he pleases with your pliant body. It feels like roles are being reversed, like he’s going to be worshiping you instead of how you should be worshiping the Prince of Hel trailing down your body.

His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs with an ease that threatens to snap your thighs shut. Before you can, he’s shoving his shoulders between them, draping your legs over his shoulders as he settles between your legs, taking in the sight of your perfectly pink cunt, fluttering for him. The wetness glimmers in the moonlight streaming through the window, and he licks his lips at the sight.

Goosebumps break out across your skin, the iciness of the room attempting to cool your smoldering body. You want to whimper, cry out for him to put his mouth on your cunt because you can feel each exhale of his breath against your keening cunt yet he doesn’t make a move to devour you.

“Say my name again,” he commands, and you don’t hesitate.

“Aidas!” You cry as he dives forward, slick tongue slipping between your folds. 

It’s as if he knows exactly what to do with it, drawing a stripe up with the tip of his nose leading the exploration, the flat of his tongue following. He eats you out like a man starved, swirling his tongue around your clit in a way that makes you see stars. When he breaches your cunt with the tip of his tongue, fucking it in and out of you, a noise you’ve never made before escapes between your lips, and it spurs Aidas on. 

“Please,” you beg, your nails scratching against his scalp as you grab his hair for something to hold onto. Your thighs squeeze but it doesn’t deter him, burying his face so deeply into your cunt that he can hardly breathe. It makes your back bow from the bed, legs wrapping around his neck to keep him pinned as you grind your cunt against his face, chasing the heat coiling your gut. “Aidas, please. Mph, I need to cum!”

He doesn’t pull away from your clit to respond, instead, he suckles harsher, thumbs digging into the meat of your thighs for a delicious bite. The temperature in the room plummets until it’s hard to breathe, your chest splintering with ice as you struggle. Not even the heat eclipsing your body can help, until he pulls back on his power and you’re cumming with a shattering cry.

Waves of pleasure roll from you. Aidas allows you to grind against his face as he works you through your orgasm, until you’re nothing but a panting, whimpering mess because even though you’ve come down from the best high of your life, Aidas isn’t done yet. 

He’s pressing up onto his knees, stroking the head of his cock through your orgasm that drips down your thighs. He doesn’t give you a second to breathe or prepare, shoving his cock into you with a guttural moan until his hips meet yours.

You hiss at the stretch, hands planted at his hips as you writhe, struggling against the press of his girth. He feels incredible, stretching you wide for his taking, but you’d been unprepared, the surprise and stealth of his probing a shock to your system.

His hand finds your throat, curling around it with intention, though there isn’t a forceful pressure behind it. Aidas is showing you what he could do, if he so pleases, and the feeling of his large hand wrapped around your throat and his cock teasing your cunt in long strokes has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, a desperate mewl escaping your lips.

“That’s it, kitten. Take my cock like the good girl you are.”

Your response is so pretty, the noises you make and the wildness lacing them. The way your nails claw into his skin, raking red marks down his chest and back, the ice of his power leaking into the hot wounds.

Hooking his hands beneath your knees and lifting them to your chest, he pistons his hips deeper, harder as he finds that spot that has you going wild. 

You curse, grappling for him, trying to hook your hands around his neck. “Kiss me, Aidas, please.”

His hips falter. He hadn’t been expecting you to want to kiss a demon. He’s afraid that if he gives into the urge to lie down and fucking claim your lips, the last part of him he hasn’t allowed himself to take, he’s afraid he might never leave, might never leave this little apartment that in no way compares to his palace in Hel, might never leave the warmth of your bed, of your cunt.

“I—” Fuck it. He just needs a taste, swooping down to capture your mouth against his.

The feeling explodes in his head, drifting throughout his body like lightning. The feeling of you, your mouth against his, sharing your breaths with him, sharing your body with him. He can feel it in every push of his hips, how accepting you are of him, of the demon who’d lied to you, who’d been trailing you, pretending to be the kitten he doesn’t often take the form of.

He feels your cunt constricting around his cock, holding on tight as you cum. You must be feeling what he is because the softness of your lips and the taste of your moans has him slipping over the edge as well, his orgasm wracking his body almost violently.

“Well, that—” you wince as he slips from you, mourning the loss already. Warmth trickles down your legs but Aidas doesn’t care, doesn’t want you clean from his cum because he’s pulling you close and tucking you into his side. “I’ve never had sex with a demon before.”

Aidas’ raucous laughter startles you. His fingers tighten around you and you’re breaking out into a grin, admiring the beauty of the male beside you. 

“You could have referred to me as a Prince of Hel or even a cat, kitten, but you chose a demon?” He presses a kiss into your dewey brow, enjoying the way you nuzzle your hot cheeks into his chest.

You shrug, bashful. “It seemed like the right thing to say, especially with that tortuous tongue of yours.”

“Not my cock?” He questions playfully, and you hadn’t expected a Prince of Hel to have this sort of humor, to be this…well, soft. His hand trails down between your thighs, running through the mess of cum. It makes your breath catch in your throat and your breasts push against his skin. You’re not quite ready for round two, but you want it more than anything.

“Your cock,” you whisper lowly, batting your eyelashes. The gleam of your eyes has his throat working around a swallow, and you like that. A lot. “Is so much better than that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist:@bunnymallowo@jeannineee@icey–stars@hannzoaks@harrystylesfan2686@azriels-shadowsinger @alysena2 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @impossibelle @glitterypirateduck @reading-moongirl

[jules-writes-stories]

Into the Night

A Retelling of Hades & Persephone | Azriel x Eris | Azris Week | Day 7| Equinox

Cast of Characters |

Eris | Persephone Azriel | Hades Lady of Autumn | Demeter Helion | Helios Lucien | Hermes Rhys | Zeus The Archeron Sisters | The Fates Cassian as himself

The first two parts are below. Read the whole story on AO3.

I

Scarlet hair blew across a pale face, like blood on freshly fallen snow. Golden eyes were lights upon dark water, a windy smile. He wanted this fae of Forest and Flame, like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Ours, the shadows whispered.

Each day was the same. Azriel spied on the beautiful male gliding through Autumn’s citrine-ruby forests, watched him slip between stalks of grain and orchards, the scent of stone fruit and loam cloying in the setting sun. 

Somehow the shadows had found their way into this court of hearth and harvest, once in thrall to a wicked Fire Lord, whose wife rose up and took the throne. Now, she ruled as Autumn’s High Lady with her seven sons. And it was the eldest that Azriel desired for his own.

He’d told his brothers, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, and Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, just how much he needed the prince of Autumn. “Not until the Equinox,” Rhys had insisted. And Azriel was a patient male, a spymaster and a shadowsinger. He could wait for what was his.

Even as the golden cord that bound him to his mate, woven by the Mother herself, dragged at the unruly beast that was his heart. 

II

Today was the Equinox, most High Holy Day in Autumn, and all of Prythian. When Day and Night aligned in perfect balance. It was the one night each year, when the magical boundaries and borders dropped between Prythian’s courts. All fae, High and lesser, Solar and Seasonal, united as one, beneath the Mother’s loving gaze. 

Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn, prepared for this night of revelry, like any other. He wore green velvet and diaphanous silk that whispered of trysts in moonlit forests. Gold lined his pointed ears, a single hoop in one nostril. 

Warrior, prince, fae of fire—this was his kingdom. And tonight, he would find his pleasure and replenish the land, to give back to its plenty. The prince left for the Forest, his brothers close behind. Fae danced around pyres, in time with distant drumming, already buzzing on wine, the scent of sex, sweet and smoky, in the night. 

Eris felt alive and aroused, in need of something he could not place. Soon. The drumming paused as voices hushed. Crackling bonfires and the breeze in ancient treetops were the only sounds. 

Now.

His magic was rising. It snapped beneath his tongue, itched his palms. Tingled at his fingertips, and down his spine. Until there were full sparks, flames along skin, at the tips of his hair, wreathing his hands. It was life and death and sex, to forget one’s before and after—not to become or have been, but to be.

Now. 

As his magic settled, finally, pulsing through his veins, Eris looked up in awe, ready to receive the Mother’s love. And this was why the fireling was taken so completely off guard. For it was at this very moment, while all of Prythian’s eyes were on the heavens, that Hel’s shadows and darkness came.

 *          *          *

Now. It had to be this very moment. When the wards between their courts were unguarded. Azriel commanded the shadows to bank the bonfires with darkness. Fae cried out as the earth quaked, seeming to cleave open, as the Night Court male landed silently in the darkened Forest. 

The shadowsinger reached out and with strong, scarred hands, pulled the fireling, by his narrow waist, to his chest. Mine. 

The golden thread thrummed with pleasure at the contact, at the scent of embers and rain, of the male in his arms. Amber eyes took in hazel.

 “Who are you?” a voice, breathless, but unafraid, asked in the darkness. 

“I am the singer of shadows. I am yours,” Azriel whispered back, his breath against the skin of the male’s white cheek. And then, before the Autumn fae could panic or react, they were passing through folds of space and time. 

 *          *          *

Eris was lost in the darkness, his only anchor a pair of strong arms, a solid chest, the scent of mist and moonlight on cedar.  He was holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Open your eyes,” a low voice rumbled, laced with amusement. The Autumn prince did, and what he saw, left him speechless. He clung to the leathers of a male, built like a warrior, with enormous, bat-like wings, spread against the night sky. And this male’s beauty was heartbreaking. His raven curls were perfectly tousled, as if the wind herself had run long fingers through them. Golden brown skin, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes lined with thick lashes. 

Eris pulled away with a jolt, baring his slightly elongated canines. Flames coiled along his hands. “Take me back to my home.” He growled, with all the authority of an Autumn prince.

But the winged male simply smirked and stared. His eyes moved slowly, starting at Eris’s red hair, the flushed tips of his pointed ears, then shifted with lazy dominance, downwards, lingering at molten eyes, a perfect nose, kissed with faint freckles, to the male’s pink, pouting mouth.

Heat coiled low in the fireling’s belly, at the base of his spine, arousal licking through his veins, even as he grew angry. Who was this male, to look at the heir of Autumn, with such possession? The fae prince bared his teeth again, flames growing hotter.

Hazel eyes, unphased, unhurried, continued to move down the prince’s lithe frame. They took in the long column of a pale neck. Broad, graceful shoulders and a narrow waist. Hips that would feel perfect in his hands. 

And then, the winged male, shrouded in shadows, said, “Eris, you are home.” 

I tagged anyone who asked/expressed interest, but please lmk if you ever want on/off my 🏷️

@c-starstuff-man0, @natashachelsea @chunkypossum, @fieldofdaisiies @jir67 @futurehunt @the-darkestminds @hellolordling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @brekkershadowsinger @disney-acotar-hp @moonpatroclus @azrisweek @unanswered-stars @theartofmischief @lilah-asteria

[silverskye13]

Angst prompt courtesy of: @theunderscorwolph

[Part 1 of 2]

[Part 2 Found Here]

Helsknight waited... Probably too long to check in on Tanguish. In his defense, the last time he spoke to Tanguish, he was heading to Hermitcraft, and while Hermitcraft was far from safe, it was, in its own ways, safer than hels. There were fewer people, fewer hazards in general, and there was Tango. Tango wasn't a fighter. As far as Helsknight could tell, he was mostly just squirrelly, and a bit cowardly. But he was fiercely loyal. That went a long way. He had even, misguidedly, attempted to save Tanguish from Helsknight once. Helsknight, who recognized he was a big, scary, angry-looking, armed and armored knight, could respect that. And Tango and Tanguish were friends, and they got wrapped up in each other sometimes, and this was far from the first time Tanguish was gone all day talking to his other half about some project.

It was, however, the first time he'd been gone for two days in a row.

Helsknight didn't really consider himself to be a worrier. Tanguish was an adult. He could take care of himself. And even if he couldn't take care of himself, Helsknight could recognize that everyone had some level of pride. Butting in on someone else's business uninvited was a great way to be a nuisance at best, and a problem at worst. So, Tanguish didn't come back by the evening? If there was a problem, Helsknight would respectfully let him handle it. Tanguish knew to come get him for help. And while Helsknight would feel truly guilty if his dithering caused Tanguish to respawn, he could take some solace in knowing he would wreak holy vengeance on whoever did it.

[That was one of the perks of being a knight: when you pointed at someone and said something along the lines of "Through hels or high water I will smite thee" or some such dramatic nonsense, people tended to get out of your way and let you get to business.]

Day two of no Tanguish, and Helsknight went from being passively concerned, to something closer to open nervousness. He asked, as subtly as he could, around the Colosseum if anyone had seen him. No one had, though Martyn did make a joke about Tanguish finally getting wise and finding a real knight to squire to.

[EB really needed to stop getting between them when Martyn said things like that. The power of a bloody nose on shitty humor was astounding.]

Eventually, Helsknight had given up and decided the best thing to do was go to Hermitcraft and track the little pest down himself. He suited up for what he thought might be a mild amount of trouble -- it was always possible he would run into Wels when he was on Hermitcraft, and if he planned on searching for someone, he wanted to minimize the time he was fighting his double. He donned his chainmail, and the netherite gauntlets and grieves. He made sure the clasps on his boots were pulled tight. He cinched on his netherite sword, and made sure it pulled easily from the sheath.

He picked up his cloak last, and gave it a contemplative frown. In hels, the cloak was a distinctive and somewhat necessary piece of costuming. It was the visual shorthand he needed to inform everyone that he was a knight, and therefore probably knew his way around a sword [and wasn't worth mugging]. For those who knew knights, it told them what Order he was a part of. Useful. On Hermitcraft, however... Being able to tell at a glance that he was a red-themed knight in dark armor, who looked suspiciously like but not quite enough like one of the other server members...

While Helsknight weighed the pros and cons of stealth and subtly, two things he was famously very bad at, the shield hanging on his wall shuddered and kicked, and someone tumbled out of the reflection with a shriek. Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He did a slow count to ten in his head, and tried not to be very, very annoyed he'd just spent twenty minutes putting on armor for no good gods-damned reason.

"Tanguish," Helsknight hummed, when he thought he could keep his voice relatively neutral, "for no reason in particular, I think we should make some ground rules about when you should check in with people--"

Helsknight turned, looked down, and anything else he was going to say vanished out of his head with such abruptness, it made his ears ring. Laying prone on the floor of Helsknight's cell, staring with wide, somewhat terrified eyes and the kind of grin that screamed about recently realized mistakes, was Tango. The Hermit blinked up at him. Helsknight blinked down at him. Somewhere down the hall, somebody laughed at something, which was their only indication that the whole world hadn't frozen with them when they made eye contact.

Helsknight could say, with honesty, he never expected to be put in a situation where a Hermit stumbled into hels, much less into his cell in the Colosseum, surrounded by all the biggest, scariest, most dangerous people in hels. At a complete loss on what to do, he fell back on what he thought was safest: namely, making sure no one got killed over it. Helsknight leaped over Tango -- who screeched ingloriously -- crossed to the door of his cell and slammed it shut. There was no lock -- he'd never needed one until now -- so he settled on turning his back to the door and bracing against it, content in the knowledge that, should someone come inside, he would be the first one to know.

It did not hearten him to see that Tango was still on his floor. He had apparently, when Helsknight stepped over him, curled up as small as he could, anticipating some kind of attack. He'd thrown his arms up over his face, and now peered at Helsknight through his fingers, humming tuneless, horrified syllables.

"Tangotek," Helsknight said, concentrating on keeping his voice very calm and very quiet, "you aren't welcome in my home."

"I didn't know I was going to end up here," Tango whispered back, his voice high and tense as a violin string.

"Go home."

Something flickered in Tango's eyes, something like determination. Helsknight hated that look.

"Uhm. N-no can do. Sorry."

"Can't." Helsknight said, barring his teeth at the Hermit. "Or won't."

Tango made a face at him, tight-lipped and tense. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Uhm. If. If I say won't, will you kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Then I can't. Definitely, definitely, physically can't." Tango looked around, scrambled to his feet, and dashed to Helsknight's bed. He, admirably, only winced a little when he set his spawn -- probably worried hels worked like the nether, and the bed would manage to explode somehow. With a bit more confidence this time, Tango stated again: "Can't."

"I can break that." Helsknight seethed quietly, and tried very hard not to grind his teeth. "It would piss me off. I like being able to sleep here. But I can break that, and send you back to Hermitcraft."

"But you don't want to do that," Tango said nervously. "Because-- uh-- you'd have to kill me, and Tanguish would be really, really upset about that."

"Tanguish isn't here. So either run home, or I will... escort you there." Helsknight put on his most wicked grin, and placed his hand on his sword meaningfully.

Tango staggered a step back away from Helsknight, somehow managing to go paler than he already was. The redstone freckles adorning his face sparked, and the flame of his hair took on a slightly green cast. The idiot Hermit was apparently made of very stern stuff, though, because he didn't flee for the nearest reflection. He took a few seconds to breathe. He had his own sword, a fact that Helsknight only noticed because his hand twitched towards the hilt uncertainly. Helsknight wasn't alarmed. Tango didn't move like someone who knew how to use a sword well, and he was fairly sure the Hermit's hands were shaking so much he would drop it if he tried to draw it.

Tango swallowed hard, darted a tongue across his lips, and asked with only a minimal tremor in his voice, "Uh, T-Tanguish isn't here? Like, not here here, or like... Not in hels, here?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "Is he supposed to be?"

"He left my place yesterday, and said he would be back in a few hours," Tango explained quickly. "I thought-- like, you know, maybe he decided to wait until morning? But. He didn't come back. And I got worried. He. You know. He tells me if he can't make it. It's-- all it takes is a reflection to talk. You know? And I did look in my reflection, but I couldn't see anything, which normally means he's not by one. It was just dark."

Tango crossed his arms. It was a gesture that somehow made him look smaller.

"I thought-- I hoped-- you know. Hopping through the reflection. I could just check on him. Make sure he was okay. I think. I think maybe it just took me to his spawn point."

Tango thought that statement over, then flashed Helsknight an incredulous, almost horrified look, "Why is his spawn point your bed?"

"Tanguish was supposed to be with you," Helsknight frowned.

"You haven't seen him?"

"No." Helsknight rested his hand on his sword hilt, mostly just so he wouldn't fidget. "Could he have gone back to Hermitcraft and you just missed each other?"

"I checked," Tango said, shaking his head. "I have... X gave a few of us console access. I did a few scans... Is there. Anyone you know with that kind of access for hels?"

"Hels and Hermitcraft are different places." Helsknight wrinkled his nose. "Maybe Evil X?"

"Cool! We'll talk to him then!"

"Oh sure," Helsknight spat derisively, "I'll just go knock on the front door to Evil X's tower and ask politely for admin access, will I?"

Tango grimaced. "Will he not... Like that kind of thing?"

"Oh he'd just love it. One more thing to hold over my head." Helsknight snorted. "It wouldn't work anyway. I have a pact that says I can't directly oppose him. If he, for the gods know what reason, has Tanguish, and I knew--" Helsknight made a parrying motion with his hand. "It's better if I don't know. Keeps my hands from being tied."

"Huh," Tango leaned back against the wall, slightly more at ease. Helsknight wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the Hermit was getting comfortable. "I kind of figured you and X-- uh, Evil X, would be friends."

"Why in hels would we be friends?"

"Well, I'm friends with Wels. And. You know. X. I just kind of figured..."

Helsknight decided the best thing to do with this statement was ignore it.

"I will check the house," Helsknight said. "You go back to your server. When I find him, I'll tell you."

Tango shook his head vehemently. "No! Nuh-uh. This is my rescue mission."

"While I appreciate your tenacity," Helsknight bared his teeth at the Hermit, causing him to shrink back a step, "hels is for helsmets. You wouldn't last ten minutes here. And I'm not wasting time keeping you safe."

"You protect Tanguish just fine."

"Tanguish can outrun everything that chases, and out-clever anything else."

"And he came from me," Tango said, crossing his arms petulantly. "I'm plenty smart! And I can be speedy in a pinch!" He sniffed. "We'll just give your house a look-around, easy-peasy."

Helsknight made to argue, and then a thought occurred to him.

"This isn't my house."

Tango blinked. His eyes shifted around the small, relatively bare room. The single desk, shield mounted on the wall, and bed.

"Is it... An outpost or something? You put this up while you were exploring?"

"This is my Colosseum cell," Helsknight said. When Tango only stared at him blankly, "Surely Tanguish has told you about the Colosseum."

"I mean... He did."

"I have a room here. For when I don't want to walk across hels to sleep."

"There's a bunch of fighters out there."

"There is."

"Fighters who... Dislike... Hermits."

Helsknight snorted.

"W-well!!" Tango sputtered, noticeably more nervous, but doing his best to ignore it. "I'm! Still not leaving! So! We'll just have to be quick. And once we get outside--"

"We'll have to walk across hels. Hels, the city, is very big, and has a lot of people in it."

Tango put his face in his hands and let out a keening whine of dismay through his fingers. It was the kind of noise that suggested he didn't know how to growl in exasperation, so he howled instead. Helsknight, begrudgingly, admitted to himself he was being [a little] harsh. He decided, against his better judgement, to have a little mercy.

"You really want to find Tanguish."

"Yes! Yes I do!" Tango snapped, looking up at him beseechingly. "I mean, is it really that hard to believe you're not the only one who wants him to be safe?"

Helsknight's skepticism must've shown on his face, because Tango let out another of his exasperated, half-syllable noises and ran his hands back through his hair.

"Look, I promise I won't get in your way. And I'll go home the second we find him. I just... I'm worried."

Helsknight sighed and tried his best not to roll his eyes. He crossed the room to where he'd left his cloak, and motioned for Tango to join him. Hesitantly, nervously, Tango stood and waited as Helsknight flung the cloak over his shoulders. It would have been far too long, but he gathered some of the length to turn into a makeshift hood, bunching it awkwardly around Tango's shoulders. It took some folding and some pinning, but after a few minutes, Helsknight stepped back and nodded. It was passable anyway.

"Keep this on while we're in the Colosseum," Helsknight informed him, pulling the hood down low over Tango's face. "With any luck, people will assume you're Tanguish. Or at least that you're supposed to be with me."

"And, uh, if that doesn't work?" Tango asked, his voice pitching the barest bit higher in nervousness.

"We'll burn that bridge when we cross it," Helsknight snorted. He checked one last time to make sure his gear was all in place, and, squaring his shoulders, led the way out and into the cells.

Nobody noticed them leave the cells. Or, at the very least, nobody noticed who Tango was. A few people stopped Helsknight to try and talk, but when he made it clear he had places to be, they let him pass. Helsknight's patience was not a thing anyone wanted to shorten, even those few dangerous people who could probably weather the aftermath.

Soon enough they were walking down the streets of hels, Tango hovering so close to Helsknight's side they occasionally walked into each other. Helsknight wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to be even more annoyed by all of Tango's jabbering. The Hermit would make observations as they walked, pointing at buildings and asking questions that Helsknight rarely deigned to answer.

They weren't here to sight-see. They were here to find Tanguish. So when Tango asked him his twentieth question of the morning [You guys have a working water fountain? How do you have water in hels? Is it an update suppression thing, or does hels have different rules than a standard nether hub?] Helsknight scowled and started walking so quickly, Tango had to jog to keep up with his long strides. Panting, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping over cobblestones, he couldn't ask any more questions.

[Praise every god and saint in hels.]

Eventually they turned onto the street Helsknight's house was on, and immediately he knew something was wrong. Even from the end of the street, Helsknight could see the front door was open. A cold fist of dread clenched itself in his stomach, and Helsknight ran up the street, Tango protesting as he tried to keep pace.

The house had been ransacked. The door wasn't just open, it had been halfway knocked off its hinges, and the window at the front of the building had been smashed. He hadn't yet stepped inside, but from the red light streaming into the open doorway, Helsknight could see his little dining table and chairs had been knocked over. There was broken glass on the floor, and the pale gleam of metal -- Tanguish's dagger, dropped in a scuffle. There was no blood that Helsknight could see, but that was cold comfort.

"Oh... Shoot." Tango panted, standing beside him. "This is your house?"

Helsknight found himself swallowing past a growing lump in his throat. "Yes."

"Did you... Not go home yesterday?"

"No."

"Shoot." Tango said again, tugging on the edges of Helsknight's cloak nervously. "He left Hermitcraft in the afternoon. Would he-- would he have gone straight to the Colosseum if--"

"Probably."

"So. So this probably happened when he got here," Tango glanced up at Helsknight, gauging the knight's hesitation, and then picked his way cautiously to the door. "Does your house get broken into often?"

"If it did, there would be a lot fewer thieves in this city."

"I'll uh... Take that as a no." Tango stepped gingerly inside, the broken glass crunching beneath his boots. His tail, a liquid, fiery thing like his hair, swept around the floor, glinting off the glass shards like a field of sparks. He picked up Tanguish's knife and flipped it over in his hands, studying it before slipping it onto his belt. "No blood. Obvious signs of a struggle. I mean, he had to have been ambushed right? Otherwise he would've run for it. And they took him alive because, well, I mean, he would've just respawned right?"

The lump in Helsknight's throat got tighter. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

"Right?" Tango prompted again.

"How much do you know about helsmets? How our respawns work?" Helsknight asked quietly.

"I know respawn is rough for you guys." Tango raised an eyebrow at him. "Or, I assume, I guess. Tanguish seems pretty scared of dying, anyway. And I know you take deaths in the Colosseum very seriously. A lot of warrior culture weirdness stuff."

Helsknight swallowed. The fear of speaking his thoughts out loud grabbed him by the throat and pinned him still. Adrenaline, cold and sourceless, sent ice through his veins. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword, his instincts as a knight searching for a source for his alarm to fight and dispatch, even when his logical mind knew there was none.

[He didn't want to say it out loud.]

"Sometimes."

Helsknight cleared his throat uncomfortably. He didn't look at Tango. His eyes wandered around the broken glass at the Hermit's feet, watching the flame of his tail glint off the brittle, jagged edges.

"Sometimes."

He swallowed again. He adjusted the buckle on his gauntlet. It suddenly felt too loose around his wrist. He was too vulnerable to talk about this. He needed plate mail, or a helmet. Hels, he needed castle walls and a full garrison.

"Sometimes we... When the universe... We are. Uhm. We're different than--"

He could feel Tango's gaze heavy on him. His skin prickled with the weight of his stare and his own growing, frigid alarm. Something like panic, a rare and terrible beast, was crawling awake in Helsknight's stomach. It gnashed its teeth against his insides, and he felt the desire to laugh, or shout, or throw something, or maybe just throw up in general.

[Don't say it out loud.]

"Tango, sometimes we dont--"

"Well it's about gods-damned time!"

The amount of relief Helsknight felt at the sound of that hostile voice was profound and dissonant, and incredibly welcome. Mostly though, it was an excuse to focus all his pent up fear on something physical he could kill, and he praised every god and saint in hels as he turned to face the newcomers.

A group of four vaguely thug-like helsmets stood in the street less than twenty paces away from him. Helsknight's gaze swept across them, noting their mix-match of leather and gold armor. Two had swords -- gold and iron. One was twirling an axe in her hand in a flourish that was probably supposed to be threatening, but mostly just told Helsknight she'd been practicing axe-flourishes instead of axe-throws. The person who'd spoken, a rather weasely looking thug with a knife on his belt, grinned with glad maliciousness.

"We've been waiting for you to show up, tin can."

Helsknight didn't rise to the [insult?]. It wasn't worth his time. He cast a quick glance in Tango's direction, catching the fading flicker as the Hermit hid somewhere in the house. Good. Helsknight would prefer he not be under foot.

"Who are you?" Helsknight asked coolly, not really expecting a response. He flexed the fingers of his sword hand restlessly, itching to draw his blade. "And what have you done with Tanguish?"

"Come quietly and maybe we'll tell you," the ringleader said, motioning broadly with one hand for his thugs to fan out around him.

The three fighters moved to circle Helsknight, one stopping just in front of the ringleader, while the other two began stalking further up the street. Helsknight did the mental math of four against one, while he was surrounded, and decided he didn't like the odds.

Helsknight attacked before the first swordsman, the one with the golden sword, could pass him. He turned and drew his sword in the same motion, and the strength behind his cleaving overhead strike shattered the softer metal of their blade neatly. His second swing, lightning quick, took them in the throat. He pointed his bloodied sword at the second swordsman, who froze in shock, blade up in a shaking guard position, as they watched their ally fade into twitching death throws.

"Will you make me ask twice?" Helsknight hummed, his voice as level as the point of his sword.

The swordsman's eyes darted over his shoulder. Helsknight frowned, felt more than he heard the approach of something. He ducked and spun, sword arching over his head to catch a weapon strike that instinct told him was coming. There was the loud clash of metal on metal, and when Helsknight straightened, he found two more thugs had joined from... Somewhere. The roof perhaps. Helsknight backed up several steps, trying to keep the entire group in his sight line, and his back to his home. At least with his back to a wall, no one could get behind him. The four with weapons drawn advanced on him slowly, wary of his speed, and the efficiency of his strikes.

"Throw down your weapon, gladiator," the ringleader called to him. "If all you want is to see your friend again, we'll take you right to him." He flashed a wicked grin. "Though we might rough you up a little first."

At that, the axe-weilder leaped forward -- some uncanny sense of Helsknight's, honed for danger, demanded he duck as a whisper of noise hissed by his ear -- and she fell back shrieking, a bloody hole punched in her shoulder. It was only when the arrow cracked against a far wall that Helsknight realized she'd been shot at close range with a very high power bow. Tango leaned through the broken window, a terrified grin on his face, another arrow already knocked.

"Fight fair why don't ya!" He crowed and loosed his second shaft. This one grazed the thug closest to Helsknight, and he used the distraction to ram his sword through their chest.

What followed was a frenzy of breath and movement, seconds that ticked by as ages that he measured in the studied arc of his blade. One thug, then two, then three, scythed down like wheat in a field, crude skill and cruder weaponry breaking against his fortress of an onslaught. It was only when the last one fell that he realized the ringleader was making a run for it. Silent as a breath, Helsknight yanked his knife from his belt, aimed and threw. It hilted itself in the back of the ringleader's left knee, and he fell to the cobblestones howling.

"Holy-- nice shot!" Tango laughed, the high piping sound of the traumatized and terrified. "What are you--? Wait! Helsknight! Wait a tick--!"

Helsknight wasn't listening. He was angry, and the implication that Tanguish was captured somewhere goaded him on like a burning brand between his shoulder blades. There was a very mean little animal of panic in his chest again, warring with the adrenaline of the fight, and he thought, if he had the mind to, he might tear the ringleader in half with his bare hands.

[It would be easy. One hand on the back of the neck, one at the base of the spine. His boots were heavy, and if he planted a few strong kicks at the knuckles of a vertebrae he was pretty sure he could--]

It was a mountain of restraint that made him stoop instead to pick the ringleader up by the collar and slam him into the nearest wall. His head bounced against the bricks behind him and his breath whooshed out of his lungs, leaving him dazed and gasping while Helsknight leaned his full weight into him to pin him still. Not that he was going anywhere fast with a bad knee anyway.

"Talk," Helsknight growled, nearly nose to nose with the thug. "My friend. Where is he."

The thug whined, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted in pain. "I'm not-- I'm not telling you anything. Y-you're not that scary."

For a very brief moment, Helsknight was so angry he actually did see red. He pulled his gauntleted fist back, fully intent on putting a dent between the thugs eyes -- when Tango leaped up and grabbed his forearm in both hands, dragging it down again.

"Hey! Hermitcraft to Punchy McMurderface!" Tango shouted frantically, clinging to Helsknight's arm for dear life. "Don't do that!"

"Why shouldn't I?" Helsknight snarled, grinding his teeth.

"Because if he's concussed unconscious he can't answer your questions, skippy!" Tango snapped fearfully, flinching back as though he expected Helsknight to punch him instead.

Helsknight, who had been expecting a much more stupid excuse [Something like, "Oh no Helsknight, don't punch the bandit that's mean and icky!" maybe] was momentarily caught off guard by the logical answer. He stood there, glaring down at Tango, panting as the red tinge the world had taken on faded back a bit.

"I'm st-still not answering your stupid questions," the thug sputtered bravely. "If you th-think I'm going to betray my guild--"

Helsknight hissed a breath out through his teeth. He reached for his dagger at his hip-- and remembered he'd already thrown it.

"Besides!" The thug gasped fearfully, realizing, probably, what Helsknight was looking for. "Y-you're a knight right? You've gotta be! No run-of-the-mill gladiator swings a sword like that! Knights don't torture people! It's against your religion or some shit."

Helsknight, whose anger was boiling up his throat again, considered the implications of renouncing his knighthood for one afternoon. Less than an afternoon. Surely it wouldn't take more than an hour to break a few bones. His Saint could only damn him to a lesser ring of hell. Maybe if he explained it was for something very important when he went to confession--

Tango spoke first. "Yeah but, knights are the law, too, aren't they?"

The thug briefly stopped breathing.

"I mean, they're deputized, technically." Tango continued, shoving his hands in his pockets. Helsknight suspected it was so no one could see them shaking. "At least, that's how knights in my world work. And I haven't seen any cops around. So. He's the law right now. And I don't know a lot about hels law, but I know you cut people's hands off around here for stealing things."

Tango looked up at Helsknight. "What do you think, Killer? I mean, technically they stole a person, right?"

Helsknight, despite his current fury and desperation, and despite his fearsome reputation, and despite, even, his ugly thoughts of a few moments ago, was not a torturer. He had inflicted some terrible wounds on people before, some to the point of what he would call cruelty, but never had he drawn a weapon with the explicit aim of causing pain and suffering. It was a line he had never really dared to cross, barring a few very harrowing fights with Wels, when he had flirted with the idea of that danger and eventually stayed his hand. There were some things a man could not do without carving out pieces of his soul in the process, where the gap between thought and action was a chasm, and to cross it was to never return to safety again.

Helsknight searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to remove someone's hand to get information. He searched the darkest parts of himself for the will to torture someone to find out where Tanguish was. A very sick, cold, empty feeling opened up in the pit of Helsknight's stomach. When he looked to the thug again, he had scrubbed himself of anger, and adrenaline, and, he hoped, fear. His expression must have been truly grim, because he watched the thug's face pale fearfully, his pupils pinpricks in too-wide eyes.

Helsknight threw the thug to the ground, forcing Tango to stumble back a few steps to get out of the way. His boot came down on the thug's shoulder, pinning him against the cobblestones. Panicked hands scrabbled at his ankle, nails sliding off the metal of his grieve. Helsknight was reminded of a rat trying desperately to climb out of a well, drowning.

"Hold your arm out, and hold it still," Helsknight said, his voice deathly calm. He leaned more weight into his heel, eliciting a long whine of pain from his captive. "I would hate to miss your wrist, and take your arm off at the elbow instead."

The thug was clearly panicked. Helsknight honestly couldn't blame him. He was very close to panicking himself. He kept shoving his feelings down into that cold empty place in his stomach, and replacing them with the mask he wore when he played the villain in the Colosseum. He quietly, forcefully, informed himself that this was a role he was playing, and like every role, he would play it very well. And then the performance would be over, and he could feel feelings about it then. After the screaming had stopped, and the blood had dried.

Tango had turned his back to him, his hands clasped over his ears. He did not run away. He did not leave. It was a show of solidarity Helsknight neither wanted nor expected, but found himself grateful for anyway.

"Last chance," Helsknight said. He lifted his sword, ready to plunge it down into the outstretched arm. He thought, in the detached way of the horrified, that if he could catch the tip of his sword between the bones of the wrist, that might be the fastest way to... To...

The thug closed his eyes and turned his face away.

Helsknight let out a long, slow breath. He drove the sword down. The thug screamed. The blade cracked against the cobblestones.

There was no blood. There was no dismemberment. The thug had pulled his arm away at the last moment, and clung to Helsknight's boot with both hands, shrieking. Helsknight's ears were buzzing. He couldn't hear what the thug was saying. His heart was racing, and his mind was so terribly, terribly empty. He felt... Numb. It was very hard to keep his sword in his hands.

A hand tapped gently on his arm. Helsknight blinked down at Tango, feeling vaguely like someone was waking him from a nightmare.

"Let me go!" The thug was yelling, scrabbling with renewed vigor against Helsknight's boot. "I told you what you wanted! Let me go!"

"Did you... Catch all that?" Helsknight asked, trying desperately to pluck coherent thoughts from the droning emptiness in his head.

"Sure thing."

[Ah... Good.]

Tango kicked his boot against the thug's side, more a nudge than anything. "Alright. We're going to let you go. Tell your guild boss or whatever that we'll be outside his place tomorrow at noon. Be ready to negotiate or -- uh -- be ready to get dead, I guess."

It was not a threat that would go down in the annuls of history as a great villain monologue, but the thug, shaking and terrified and in pain, took it deadly serious. Helsknight released him, and he hobbled away down the road as fast as he could on a bad leg. They watched him in silence until he disappeared down a side alley, leaving them in an empty street scattered in left over items from the other fallen thugs.

"Tomorrow?" Helsknight asked, his voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

"Today," Tango answered. "Telling them tomorrow makes them think they have time to prepare, and if they're preparing, they're not, you know, hurting Tanguish."

"Ah."

"You alright?" Tango squinted up at him. "You look like you're in shock."

"Mh." Helsknight dropped his gaze to the ground. His dagger had been left behind. He took a step forward... and sank to the ground.

"Woah! Hey, hey! Easy big guy--"

Helsknight found himself on his hands and knees, shaking, smothering under the weight of guilt and his own potential for horror. His head was buzzing again, a nauseating sound like the static of the void. His eyes found his dagger again, and he lunged for it. Moving on something between impulse and habit, driven by guilt and self-disgust, he ripped the blade across his wrist, spilling blood across the ground. With shaking hands he grabbed up his sword and set the tip against the cobblestones, his forehead pressed against the hilt, eyes screwed shut.

"Saint of Blood and Steel," Helsknight breathed, with all the desperation of a sinner crawling to an altar, "forgive me for what I would have done." He pressed his forehead so hard against the cold netherite of the hilt, it hurt. "Please, please, forgive me for what I would have done."

His nose stung with the smell of blood and metal and salt and sealing wax. His mouth tasted like bile, and he could feel every fluttering heartbeat in the cut on his wrist. The buzzing in his head, slowly, slowly, alongside the speed of his racing heart, ebbed. The animal panic curled up in his chest and grumbled as it started to ease itself to sleep. He realized someone was rubbing circles into his back, and whispering at him, and tugging at his hands.

Tango was not trying to be reassuring. At least, he wasn't trying to be reassuring so that Helsknight would be calm. He muttered things under his breath like, "Okay, easy now, no big deal, it's fine," and "Let it go. Nice and easy. Good knight. Scary knight..." The circles he rubbed into Helsknight's back were shaky and awkward, and very clearly a distraction for his other hand, which worked on uncurling Helsknight's fingers from the knife. Helsknight, his exhausted wits finally returning, had mercy on him and released it. Tango snatched up the knife like it were a snake he feared would bite someone. He grimaced at the blood on the blade, and, not knowing what else to do, wiped it off on Helsknight's cloak, before shoving the knife beside Tanguish's in his belt.

"So, just for establishing the rest of this afternoon," Tango said, when he realized Helsknight had come crawling out of his stupor. "Should I be worried about you hurting yourself randomly? Like, does this happen on a regular basis? Do you have triggers I should be making safe words for or--?"

"No." Helsknight said, trying not to feel ridiculous.

"Right. So that was just a one time thing? Because if it's not a one time thing, I'm not judging or anything. But, like, I might recommend seeing a hels therapist or something."

"No I--" Helsknight had no desire to explain that he had a Saint, and that Saint had tenets he'd sworn to, and he had been preparing to go smashing through them like a sledgehammer, mostly because she didn't want to admit it to himself either. He didn't want to admit that he had been on the verge of turning his back on everything that made him himself, because he was desperate and scared, and he didn't want to admit that if he wasn't a knight, he had no idea what he even was at all. Instead he fell back on what the thug had said, because it wasn't wholly true, but it also wasn't a lie. "Knight. Torture. Against my religion. Or. Whatever."

Helsknight leaned on his sword like it was his last hope of salvation.

"Very, very against my religion."

"R-right." Tango put on a complicated expression. The kind of expression one gives when they're realize they're walking on a minefield. "But. You know. You didn't actually torture anyone. Right? So. God can't be mad. So you don't have to slash your wrists for god, right?"

"I would have." Helsknight's eyes found a chipped cobblestone. "If he hadn't moved... I... Would have."

That feeling of frigid dread spidered it's way down his ribs again to pool in his stomach.

"Well. But. But. You didn't." Tango swallowed audibly. "You didn't. And that's what god cares about, right? And, even if god does care, you were following the letter of the law. And if god cares about that too. Uh. God. God can. Take it up? With me."

Helsknight barked a half-hearted laugh. "You going to defend my honor from god, Hermit?"

"Yes," Tango said uncomfortably. "Because I was the one who told you to do it. So. Double damn both of us, right?"

They looked at each other. They looked away from each other.

"Tanguish is going to kill us when he finds out what we did to find him," Helsknight said.

"I won't tell if you don't."

They looked at each other. Tango offered a hand to help Helsknight stand. When Helsknight took it, they grabbed each other's forearms, and it felt uncannily like a pact, or a promise.

"I won't tell if you don't," Helsknight murmured.

Helsknight sheathed his sword, and ran a hand through his hair, trying, with some success, to pull himself back together.

"We should... Get moving." Tango observed, looking up the street.

"I didn't hear a word he said."

"I've got it all up here buddy," Tango said, tapping the side of his head and offering a half-smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes. "So uh... You know anything about a Thief Guild?"

[everlastingmooncoven]

Lesson #1: Introduction to Magic

Witchcraft vs. Wicca vs. Paganism:

Paganism is a religion as well as an umbrella term to describe different religions. In the past, it was seen as anyone who wasn’t a Christian. Currently, a lot of practices and religions fall under the category of Pagan. No witchcraft or certain practices are required to be Pagan. Most Pagans do believe in the circles of life and death, with a strong connection to nature.

Wicca is a religion that usually involves witchcraft but not always. It was founded in 1954 by Gerald Garner and involves documents and beliefs such as the Wiccan Rede and the Harm None laws. The Wiccan religion falls under Paganism.

Witchcraft is a practice, not a religion. It can be used inside and outside of religious practices. There are many branches of The Craft, including Green Witchcraft and Cosmic Witchcraft.

Different Paths:

Not all Alchemists are witches, but Alchemy can be paired with the Craft.

Angelic Witches work closely with Angels in their practice.

A Celtic Witch would be a witch who follows the traditions and rituals of the Celtic religion. They may work with or worship Celtic deities and read Celtic myths, legends, and history. This could also include working with the fae, but it’s not required.

In a Ceremonial Witch's practice, it’s all focused on the sacred ceremonies and rituals of witchcraft. It’s more intricate than everyday magic.

Cosmic/Celestial Witches are the astrologers. Focused on the moon, sun, star, and planet cycles, zodiac signs and birth charts are their specialty. They use the energies from the cycles of the universe to fuel their spell work. Lunar Witches and Solar Witches would fall in this category, as their focus is mostly towards the phases of the moon or the sun.

Coven Witches are a part of a coven, this would include a high priest, or priestess along with members of a coven. They bring their powers together to cast spells and do rituals together.

Crystal Witches are all about the use of crystals and gems. Creating crystal grids, understanding the power of their properties, and using that power to manifest or attract the energies that the witch is trying to bring in their craft.

When it comes to Eclectic Witches they are a hit or miss. They mix and match their own practice from other religions or branches of witchcraft. That can be a good thing and a bad thing. You can make your practice your own and not be tied down to one thing. However, if you are taking from closed practices or taking from spaces where you aren’t welcomed then that is never okay. No matter what branch you practice.

A Death Witch is someone who works with the dead, or practices necromancy. This can also include helping them cross to the other side, honoring the dead in rituals, or helping people through periods of mourning their loved ones. Death deities such as Hel (Norse Goddess of Death) or Hades (Greek King of the Underworld) may be some deities a death witch might be interested in working with.

Demonologists are people who study, work with, or worship Demons and include them into their Craft.

Divination Witches are usually your psychics. They work with tools such as tarot or oracle cards, palm readings, pendulums, runes, etc. They can show the future or receive messages from the other side or from your guides.

Draconian Witches are people who work with Dragons. It is a very intricate path that isn’t made for everyone. You may approach dragons, but when it comes time dragons may or may not choose you.

Elemental Witches use the power of the elements in their practices. Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and sometimes the fifth element known as the Spirit or Either. Through bonding with the elements, she’s able to call on them in her practice. This could also be broken down by Fire Witches, who connect mostly with Fire elements. Water Witches also could fall under Sea Witchcraft. Air Witches could include playing instruments, listening to music, or singing in their practice. And Earth Witches could be classified as a Green or Plant Witch.

Fae Witches are those who work with the Fae in their craft. This is usually paired with the Celtic pantheon, but not always.

A Folk Witch can be hereditary, but not always. They include practices that are either passed down from family members, or their community. They use their ethnicities and the origins of their ancestors in their practices. Sometimes they can be closed practices, sometimes they are just not shared with people outside of those communities.

Gray Witches practice both the left-hand path (black magic) of the right-hand path (white magic). What kind of magic they practice depends on the situation.

Green Witches are all about nature, they use herbology, healing, gardening, and plant magic in witchcraft. They prefer to be outside and in nature, especially when doing their craft. Plant Witches are in a subcategory of Green Witchcraft whose main focus is plants.

Both Hearth Witches and House/Cottage Witches overlap when it comes to how they practice. They are both focused on making their home peaceful and full of magic. This can include candle magic, kitchen witchery, house rituals, etc.

A Hedge Witch is similar to an eclectic witch. But hedge witches are more focused on herbology, elements, astral protection, auras, and nature.

A Hellenic Witch is someone who works with or worships the ancient Greek or Roman deities. They perform rites and give offerings that were presented to the deities long ago.

Hereditary Witches are people whose family practices witchcraft. Power or certain practices are passed through their family line.

Kitchen Witches incorporate magic into their food or drink. They understand the properties that certain foods or herbs have and are able to pair them together to create a delicious, magical-filled dish or drink.

Sea Witches have a strong connection to the ocean. They can incorporate water, seashells, sand, and moon phases in their practices. Any body of water will do, you don’t have to live near any ocean to do sea magic. Lakes, rivers, or any natural body of water will do. They can also work with water spirits, such as mermaids.

Sex Witches use sexual acts and sexual energy to enhance their rituals. This can be done alone or with consenting partners.

A Solitary Witch practices alone or without a coven. They can be any type of Witch.

A Traditional Witch can be a hereditary, a folk, or a ceremonial witch. Any kind of practice that follows a long-standing tradition.

Wiccan Witch follows the Wiccan Rede and the Harm None laws, within their practice. They can include almost any other branch of witchcraft as well. They worship a God and Goddess as the masculine and feminine energies, and love and respect nature.

These are just a handful of witches that are out there, I know I missed many of them. Feel free to mix and match titles or have no title at all. It’s whatever you are most comfortable with and what you have a connection to the most.

Altars:

Altars are prominent in most religions; they are concentrated, personal, and sacred spaces meant for worship, spell castings, honoring ancestors, celebrating holidays and more. They can be simple and hidden, large and extravagant or anything in between. It should be created to please you and no one else.

The arrangement of tools on the altar can vary to each person, there is a basic outline, but you’re not required to follow it. When picking out the tools and decorations make sure you don’t choose random items that might clutter your altar. No matter how big or small your space is, you don’t want a messy place to work in; so make sure everything has a meaning or purpose.

Altars can also come in any aesthetic that you enjoy; some choose a very traditional altar, while others love a modern take on things. They can also be based around an element, deity, crystal, or even your favorite color.

There are so many ways you can present your altar, but as long as you make it your own precious space then the sky's the limit!

Witchcraft Tools:

A Book of Shadows, Grimoire, or another Spell Book can be anything you wish it to be, from a simple notebook, a file on your computer, or a fancy leather-bound book. No matter what it is, always keep it nearby when you are casting; you never know when you might need to jot something down or need a reference.

A Pentagram or Pentacle can be sat in the center of an altar, or worn on a necklace. It represents the five elements and can be used for protection.

Divination Tools would also be kept on your altar or nearby if you are doing spellwork. Whether it be tarot or oracle cards, pendulums, runes, tea leaves, or a crystal ball.

Photos or Statues are great ways to honor your ancestors and loved ones who have passed on (including pets!). You can add photos, notes, and other offerings on your altar as a way to honor them and call upon them. You can also add photos and statues of your guides or deities to dedicate a space to them.

Athames are beautifully crafted knives meant for spell casting or energy channeling only. They are usually not meant for cooking or other purposes.

Wands are created for energy channeling and circle casting, they can be made out of wood, crystal, metal, or glass. You can also craft your own and add crystals, charms, or other decorations to personalize it.

Candles can be used for multiple things. It can represent the element of fire and air, can represent a space for deities or ancestors, or for simple color magic. It’s good to have multiple colors and sizes, but white is usually a good substitute. You could also use birthday candles for spells that have to melt all the way down but you don’t want to wait or leave a burning candle unattended.

For the Earth Element anything that comes from the Earth naturally such as dirt, sand, flowers, leaves, certain herbs, sticks, crystals, rocks, etc can be used to represent the Earth element and be used in many ways.

Cauldrons or other heatproof bowls would be needed for making potions, burning herbs, casting spells, or scrying.

A Chalice could represent the Moon Goddess and the element of water; a chalice can hold water, wine, or other offerings. It can also be used for fertility rituals and spells.

Feathers represent the elements of air, they can be nice offerings for certain spirits, guides, or deities or be used for waving away negative energies.

Bells can represent the air element and are known for cleansing a space of negative energies to leave a peaceful feeling environment.

Each Herb, Plant, or Flower has different properties, each being unique and special. With that being said, some ingredients can be very dangerous and harmful to handle if you are unfamiliar with them; so always proceed with caution when using unknown herbs. And make sure to keep poisonous ones away from your furry or scaly friends and curious children!

Incense not only smells lovely, but they represent the elements of air and fire. They are wonderful for cleansing and each scent has its own special property.

Waters from ocean, lake, rain, storm, tap, or even bottled water can represent the water element; each can be used in a different way in a spell. But also can be used for cleansing yourself or your tools.

Poppets are very powerful tools that can be used for causing harm to enemies, initiating protection around a household, or casting a blessing on those closest to you.

Crystals are helpful for healing, protection, peace, and many other things. They are gorgeous pieces for offerings, or to just keep on your altar or in your car.

Pouches, Boxes, and Jars are a very simple way to hold any spell that you create, usually kept with the person it was made for, buried in the ground, on your altar. It can contain anything from blessings to curses.

Book of Shadows:

1. Create your own spellbooks:

Decide if you are going to have a physical book or binder or if you want a digital book, which could be left online or if you are going to print it out. Figure out the style, do you want traditional, cute, full of stickers, dried herbs or plants included, add artwork. Make it your own. You don’t have to call your spellbook the typical names, you can name your book anything you want. If you work with Spirits, Book of the Dead. If you work with the water element, Storm Book or Way of the Waters. Or sometimes more traditional like The Book of Ways. You can be creative when naming your Grimoire if you want. You can also have more than one spellbook for different tasks or information.

2. Layouts:

The layout of your book is unique to you. Personally, I tend to group similar things together. But here are things you can add to your book.

Some type of index to keep your book organized. You could also include a glossary of common-use terms or phrases.

A book blessing, protection sigils, and/or book dedications.

Your personal correspondences such as astrology charts, what type of path you practice, coven meetings (if you’re involved in one), information about the deities or guides you work with, and favorite divination methods. You could also add your favorite crystals, colors, herbs, flowers, etc.

Basic information about magic. Tools used in your craft, how to make sigils, cleansing, protection, correspondences about crystals, herbs, incense, aromatherapy, etc.

Animal correspondences, what it means when you see certain animals. This could also include familiar work, or any animal guides you work with.

Moon, sun, and planet phases. This can also include constellations, zodiac signs, birth charts, and how to read them.

The Wheel of the Year, any holidays or sabbats that you celebrate and how to celebrate them. This could also include days of the week correspondences and time correspondences.

You can add recipes that you make for offerings or holidays or even have a spellbook be a cookbook instead if you are a kitchen witch or just love cooking.

Any rituals or spells that you perform, what it is, when you cast them, the herbs or crystals you use, what the moon or sun phase was, the phrases you said, what the results were, and if you would change anything.

Divination tools that you use, the meaning behind tarot cards or runes, etc. And you can keep a journal track of when you do any kind of divination, the questions you asked and the answers you received.

History of magic, the path you practice, the deities or guides you work with. Folklore or myths from certain areas that you are interested in.

Lists of deities or guides from the pantheon(s) or groups that you’re involved in.

Different psychic abilities and keeping track of your meditation progress, dreams, affirmations, yoga, and any other energy workings that you do.

Any mythical beings (mermaids, dragons, fae, etc) that you work with and information about them. How you work with them, favorite offerings, spellwork that they’ve helped you with, etc.

Covens:

Covens are usually made up of 13 members that come together to practice Magick or celebrate a Sabbath together. They are normally very private groups that use their energies to reach a common goal or need.

Some Witches prefer Covens rather than solitary because you are able to learn and grow from the other members that you surround yourself with. If you are open with your practices then there can be a lot of backlash from non-pagans who don’t understand or accept your beliefs; so it’s always nice to have like-minded individuals in your life who you can communicate and socialize with.

However, if you are wanting to practice in solitude then that is completely up to you and your personal path. There is nothing wrong with not joining a Coven if your heart says no.

[gwynniethenymph]

I was re-reading ACOSF and got to a simple conclusion halfway through it:

There's no way in Hel my bad b**** Gwyneth Berdara isn't going to have a story line in the next book(s).

fight me.

Beyond all the questions SJM left unanswered about her, such as heritage and possible powers, she has simply one of the most interesting and unique backstories in the series.

While most of the characters had their pasts already completely explained (even though some still need development), Gwyn's backstory mostly focuses on her trauma. While it's certainly something important and had a huge impact on her, there's still 26 years of story besides that.

Like, it's so so interesting. She is a priestess that grew up in one only-female environment with a half high-fae, half water- nymph mother that was too wild as a child. She had a twin sister, and it's a Great Rite child. It raises so many questions

Was her mother a good mother? Or she was too carefree given her heritage and didn't know how to take care of 2 kids?

How was her relationship with Catrin? Were they best friends or did they have troubles and fights between them?

How was her relationship with the other priestesses? Did she lose only Catrin or perhaps a best friend, a maternal figure in the attack?

Is she interested in discovering her heritage? Did the attack affect her faith somehow? How does she, as a born fae female, view mating bonds and other fae traditions? Does her nymph heritage affect her in other aspects of her life? Does she feel some sort of pull or belonging towards rivers and oceans? Who was she in Sangravah? How much of herself changed during her stay at the library? How does she view sexuality, considering her religious background? How did her mother die? Who taught her how to sing? Does she maybe feel she has some sort of power? How chaotic could her mind be?

Too many questions about a too interesting character.

PS: And can someone please tell me why tf is she considered childish?

[astoldbyaja]

Primal: The Clan of Blood and Water - Ch. 9 ~AU Predator (Franchise)~

I sat quietly staring with great interest as Scorpion held up our suckling to Blade and Jack Hammer as if she were a trophy herself. The baby didn’t seem to mind as we all gathered in Blade’s grotto.

The older hunter had three mates with three suckling each. His mate’s names are I’Ani, Mo’ra and Timere. Do not ask me all the names of his suckling. As Jack Hammer placed his face closer to our baby, she suddenly screams as if in fear, and Scorpion hits the hunter’s shoulder scolding him that he had scared me once and now he was frightening his suckling.

“Put your bio mask to hide your ugly face!” Blade teased and Jack Hammer snarled and attacked the older hunter, the two wrestling on the ground now which made our baby’s fearful eyes brighten with happiness. Scorpion too looked please shouting for Blade to use his ankle shiv.

Blade’s wives were hissing and cackling with curiosity at the trio’s actions. The three females didn’t seem too threatened by me either. Although they did not speak to me, they didn’t stop their suckling from exploring and moving over toward me either.

After some time, Scorpion motioned for me to come join them and I sat beside my mate, our baby reaching out to me of which Scorpion placed her in my arms and I began to breast feed her. No one seemed bothered by the action.

“She will be a strong hunter! No male will be good enough for her!” Blade said happily. The three let out sharp shrills of laughter and I smiled some looking down at my suckling. She teethed on my nipple, and it hurt, but I bared it. I did wonder what kind of future she would have. She seemed all yautja, but I knew my human blood coursed through her body as well. A lock of my braid was over my shoulder, and she held it peacefully, as if it brought her comfort while she fed.

Scorpion nodded.

“She will bring many trophies from her hunts!” he said and the three let out roars of excitement. Scorpion then looked my way and placed a warm hand on my cheek. I smiled at the affection and slowly, Blade’s sucklings were starting to crawl and walk over to us and now we were surrounded by babies.

“Maybe one of your sons will join her on her first hunt and together they will become blooded.” I replied with hopeful eyes. Blade nodded with a gentle warmth in his eyes.

“It would bring me honor for our children to grow together.” he said. I was happy to hear this for that mean I had his acceptance not only has Scorpion’s mate but as a Hydraxi Clan member.

As we walked on the trail, Scorpion stuck close beside me as I carried our sleeping infant in her bind.

“I have thought of a name, I would like you to consider for her.” he said with a purr. I looked up at him curiously and nodded. I was excited to hear what he was thinking.

“What is it?” I asked. He raised his hand and gently caressed the suckling’s head who let out a gentle shrill in response.

“Vitanja… I think that would be the perfect name for a perfect suckling who will one day be a great huntress.” he said. I let the name move around in my head for a bit before looking down at the baby.

“Vitanja.” I whispered letting it roll of my tongue now. The baby now stirred a bit opening her eyes softly and looking up at us. My body tightened with excitement as it seemed she had answered to the name. I looked up at Scorpion and nodded. “I think she likes it. It’s perfect.”

Scorpion’s mouth and mandibles stretched upward to signify a happy smile. As we continued to walk, Scorpion started teaching me different plant life which were dangerous or innocent to consume or be around. He jumped up high and grabbed the branch of a tree showing me how sturdy the branches were. I was excited to climb them one day that was for sure. I took in his lessons and admired every berry he brought to me, locking its image away in my mind.

When we arrived back at the grotto Tiera was waiting patiently having tidied up the grotto. She and I sat down together as I held Vitanja on my lap while Scorpion went to hunt us food. Tiera smiled.

“She is beautiful, Wife A’tuma.” she complimented, and I smiled up at her.

“Thank you… do you wish to have children some day?” I asked. She looked down some, eyes seeming distant.

“If you and my lord want me to then I will.” she said. I winced at her words as I bounced Vitanja on my lap. I should have been surprised by her answer, but I wasn’t.

“But if we let you decide?” I asked. She looked at me confused.

“I do not understand…” she said. Now I gave a gentle frown.

“Do you not have a husband?” I asked. She seemed more confused as if I had said a foreign word. “A mate.” Now the confusion cleared.

“Here in the clan, our masters pair us with our mates. If they want us to mate and have more children to join under their care, then they choose a mate for us.” she said. I tensed at her explanation. These humans were smart with the same intelligence as me, but still treated as life stock.

“Tell me Tiera, do you think serving here by yourself would be lonely?” I asked. Tiera’s eyes glimmered some as she shook her head.

“No Wife A’tuma. My comfort is of no importance. I do not mind being alone.” she said. I was curious of if she were telling the truth. Vitanja shrilled some to remind us she was there, and I smiled down at her and rubbed her head. I noticed the soles of my feet were bleeding slightly from all the walking.

Tiera was on her feet immediately.

“Please let me help you into bed and I will fetch you some medicine.” she said. She helped me move to the bed with Vitanja on my other arm. As I sat down on the furs, Tiera moved with purpose coming back with a small pail of water, antibacterial spray and bandages. As she cleaned my feet and sprayed the medicine, Vitanja was watching with wide curious eyes.

“Thank you.” I replied. Tiera glanced at me stunned as she wrapped my feet.

“You are thanking me, why?” she asked. I tilted my head.

“Because you are doing something nice for me.” I replied.

“It is my duty to serve you Wife A’tuma. You never have to thank me for doing my duty.” she said. I wanted to respond however, Scorpion entered with a hiss dropping the large dead creature he had on his shoulders and confronting us. Vitanja shrilled happily in response to her father’s concern.

“What happened!” he snapped looked at Tiera who stood up and kept her head down, her fingers curled together.

“Wife A’tuma’s feet were bleeding from her walk earlier.” she said obediently. Scorpion looked from her to me and now jumped onto the bed crouching beside me looking almost hurt.

“My tempest, why didn’t you tell me your feet were hurting you, I would have carried you back to the grotto.” he said. I smiled raising my hand to caress his dry face.

“I am sorry, I didn’t even know I was bleeding.” I replied. He cackled gently and looked me over.

“You body is still tired from giving birth and I should have taken that into account and not have made you walk. You will stay in bed and rest.” he commanded moving to lift Vitanja into his arm.

“Wh- I’m not dying Scorpion.” I replied gently as he removed the suckling’s wrap from my body and placed it around his body.

“No, you are not but you still need to rest. Tiera will get you anything you need.” he said. I chuckled and nodded not arguing against him.

“Alright, I will stay in bed.” I replied and chuckled as Scorpion dragged the dead animal closer to our bed so that he could still be near me while skinning the animal. Immediately, Vitanja stuck her head from the wrap in curiosity.

Normal POV

Night came and sleep came over the tribe. Teleya was in a deep sleep with Scorpion beside her and Vitanja on her back between the two. His eyes were half lidded as he watched his mate and suckling sleep.

He was thinking when he first became blooded. It was the happiest feeling he had ever felt. He felt honored, seen amongst the other Hydraxi. The elders who taught him were proud of him as were his parents. When he took down a queen Xenomorph, he felt immortal, like a god amongst gods.

When he decided he would become an enforcer and gain more trophies and honor through hunts, he felt his life was complete. And then he heard the blissful singing of a human that made his skin come to life in a way he didn’t understand. That singing brought him to her, Teleya. She was so fragile and small like every human. But she was his and that’s all he cared about. And her belly became swollen with his suckling and his eyes moved down to finally look at Vitanja, his added pride and joy.

And now his pride and joy’s face began to scrunch up and soft little shrieks began to emit from her tiny mouth. Scorpion knew she was about to start crying and he didn’t want her cries to wake up Teleya. So, he quietly sat up and scooped her up moving toward the entrance of the grotto. Tiera, hearing the small cries from her smaller bed of furs began to sit up. It wasn’t unexpected for servants to tend to sucklings if the parents were exhausted from heavy hunts. But Scorpion would have no one tend to his suckling when he was capable to do it.

“Sleep.” he commanded Tiera before moving outside into the darkness. Vitanja’s cries carried into the darkness, and she started swiping her tiny claws outward. Scorpion held her up under her arms and stared at her.

“Stop that crying now Vitanja, you will wake your mother.” he said lowly, tone mildly soft. But Vitanja just kicked her chunky feet and kept crying and shrieking. Scorpion’s mandibles clicked softly in thought of what to do. He then moved to the closest tree, tucked the suckling under his arm and began to climb higher into the tree. He was so high; the darkness began to give life to glowing colors of bugs that hid up here. He then sat on the base of a tree branch and placed Vitanja to his body. She held on to his mandibles which he used this time to activate something on his wrist gauntlet. His wrist gauntlet was connected to his biomask but also connected to the wrist gauntlet he created for Teleya.

He kept his wrist gauntlet up and waited as he placed his other hand around Vitanja.

“Come stop your crying, it’ll be alright.” A melodic voice sang. Vitanja’s shrieking began to slowly die down as she looked at the gauntlet with a tilt of her head. “Just take my hand, hold it tight. I will protect you from all around you. I will be here don’t you cry.”

Scorpion now purred softly and raised Vitanja up so that his face was the only one he saw.

“For one so small, you seem so strong. My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm.” The male’s voce sang and slowly Vitanja shrilled lightly and happily as she raised her hands to gently take hold of Scorpion’s mandibles.

“This bond between us can't be broken to be here don't you cry.”

The neon lights from the bugs fluttering around them caught her attention, their flames mirrored in her orbs as she cooed and began to now reach for them.

“Cause you’ll be in my heart, yes, you’ll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forever more.”

Scorpion continued to watch with a smile as Vitanja cooed happily now and he raised her up so she could grab at the bugs.

“You’ll be in my heart… no matter what they say.”

Vitanja’s small hands clamped down on a bug and she eyed her father with happiness and Scorpion let out a cackle of happiness and brought her body close to his so she could reveal to him the blue glowing bug, that’s light glowed on their faces.

“You’ll be here in my heart… always.”

The bug flew up into the sky and Vitanja’s eyes widened in happiness before she nuzzled her head into Scorpion’s who shrilled gently meeting her smaller head as his purring against her slowly made her eyes drowsy and help her drift to sleep.

“Always…” he said lowly.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/759618851366387712/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros759526207?source=share

Cannibal landed outside of the gates of King's Landing, letting out a shrill roar as he felt his rider's pain- Nora clung to the saddle and trusted her precious mount to take her where she needed to go. It had been hours of being kicked and beaten by Daemon, and the guards of Dragonstone- she was surprised that Jacaerys had not even gone to see her, but apparently she heard through whispers that Rhaenyra forbade him, a notion Baela apparently supported. By the time Cannibal landed she was purely exhausted, the physical toll along with the emotional one of Alicent's betrayal making her ache in all ways. It felt like hours had passed, until she head horses incoming closer, and Cannibal roared protectively. "Dohaeras, Cannibal!" Aemond called. "Nora!" Aegon shouted helplessly. "Sister!" Nora weakly whispered words of High Valyrian to Cannibal- without her, Cannibal would hurt others without hesitation, before she attempted to slide off her saddle. She landed in Aemond's strong arms, who breathed, "Thank the gods-" "Nora," Aegon practically flung himself onto them, tears freely falling down his cheeks when he saw her, and the state she was on- Oh, how he would see to it that those who laid hands on her paid dearly. She was too weak to speak, and Aemond told Aegon, "Come now, brother- we must get her back to the Keep...she needs to be seen to at once, and Hel will be aching to see her." The brothers rode their steeds through the city, back to the Red Keep. Hours later, Nora was in a large bathtub, with Helaena scrubbing her skin clean. The water was murky and reddish brown with her blood, and dirt, and Helaena said softly, "I will have the maids empty this water, and bring fresh water." Nora nodded wordlessly and stepped out, wrapped in a robe. Helaena sat beside her, and held her hand. She had not yet told anyone of their mother's betrayal, for fear that Aegon and Aemond would act recklessly. "We were so afraid," Helaena whispered. "Deathly afraid- we could not bear losing you. Mother prayed for you for hours on end." "Did she?" "She'd began to wear black and green, like Cannibal," Helaena confided. "She said that she wished to find ways to keep us with her always, and so she even wore gold for Sunfyre." Nora felt tears in her eyes- how could she tell them what their mother had done, when they all finally felt like they had Alicent's unwavering love, after all this time? Helaena kissed her cheek and whispered, "She even asked that I find her a shade of blue exactly like Dreamfyre." Images of standing in Dragonstone, watching her mother betray her flashed through her mind. "What?" She turned to Helaena, who nodded. "Tis' true." Helaena smiled sadly. Her heart clenched, as she put together the pieces. As she was dragged out of Dragonstone and she looked back at her mother, in her gown of pale blue, the candlelight caused the material to glimmer ever so slightly....it revealed a pattern...a pattern of dragonscales. "She didn't....she didn't betray us," Nora gasped softly. "No," Helaena whispered knowingly. "She did not. The dress was not her returning to Rhaenyra....it was keeping a piece of her children as she gave herself for Nora's freedom....because she knew that without Cannibal, they stood a greater chance against Rhaenyra and the dragonseeds.

POOR SWEET NORA! She's going through it thats for sure !!!

Also..the idea of Alicent having her children's dragon colours so close when she's so deathly afraid of them..

Aegon and Aemond would not leave their sisters' side whilst Daeron began to patrol. Otto was so glad his granddaughter was home safe even if he was subtle about it

[capturethechaos]

In collaboration with - @earthlysorrows

Masterlist

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Words - 2.9k

Warnings - 18+ONLY, explicit sexual content, NSFW, smut, oral (m!receiving)

a/n - the first Shake My Faith blurb!!! Took a hot sec to get this out oops, but it's here!

“Daddy you have room for just one more! Please!!” The small voice pleaded from below, looking upwards at her father with eyes of a doe. 

“You said that for the last one.” He teased, fully prepared to accept one more paper sticker pressed against his skin. Anything for his little girl. 

“But THIS one’s a sparkly unicorn!” She clasped the paper in her hands to hold it up to Josh “See, isn’t it pretty!” 

“Okay you win. Go on, but this is the last one and then you go to bed.” He laughed. “Before your mother comes in here and gets us in trouble.” 

Her high pitched giggling drew the corners of Josh’s lips upwards as her little fingers tried desperately to pull the sticker away from the backing. 

When she finally got it off, she perfectly placed it within the small spattering of stickers littering his stomach. “Perfect!” 

Celeste looked up at Josh as if he had hung the moon and stars, breaking her stare only when she heard you walk into the living room. “Mommy look, I made daddy pretty!”

Your eyes flickered to your husband, lounging against the back of the couch, his tee shirt lifted to expose the sun kissed skin of his navel, littered with sparkly stickers. 

He did look pretty.

“He looks beautiful, sweetheart. Now, let’s get you to bed.” You made your way over to her, extending your hand for her to take. She offered no verbal response to your request, simply choosing to give you the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “I know, hun, but we’re going to the water park with uncle Jake and auntie Stevie tomorrow, so you’ve got to rest so that you’ll have all the energy to play all day.”

You seemed to have convinced her, and she eagerly took your hand, jumping off the couch and pulling on your arm to drag you toward her bedroom. You looked back, noticing Josh seemingly about to stand from the couch, and you stopped. “You, don’t move, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

You could see the beginnings of a wicked grin growing on his lips as you turned back to follow your daughter. It was a short journey to her room, and the second the door was open she ran to her bed, jumping onto the mattress as you walked to her dresser to pick out a fresh pair of pajamas for her. 

“Come on, Cece, let’s get you changed then we have to brush your teeth.” You walked over to her with the pajamas, and she looked up at you, a beaming grin causing her little dimples to show as she reached for the clothing.

You simply leaned against her door frame, waiting for her to change, something she had recently insisted on doing herself, and you weren’t about to argue with her about it. So you watched as she fumbled with the cuffed end of her pant leg, huffing to herself and leaving her foot tucked within the fabric as she pulled the sleep shirt on. 

She was ultimately defeated by the pajamas when she got the shirt turned around as she tried to pull it on, ending up with a backwards shirt and pants that pulled her down as she tried to take a step. She looked up at you, a spitting image of your husband as she plopped down on her mattress and let out a dramatic sigh. “Mommy, help please.”

You pushed yourself off of the door, making your way over to her and kneeling in front of her. “You’ve got to be careful, love. You almost fell.”

You straightened out her shirt, helping her to pull her little arms through the correct holes. She was looking up at you when you finished readjusting her shirt as if you somehow had the answer to any question in the universe. “Sorry.”

Though her voice was hushed, you heard her just fine, and you gently helped her pull her foot through the cuff of her pant leg. “No need to apologize, my sweet girl. Everyone puts their shirts on backwards sometimes.”

“Even you and daddy?”

You smiled, standing up and helping her to safely step off of her bed. “Yes, even me and daddy.”

The biggest huff of relief fell from the smallest body in the room. As if realizing that it was okay if she wasn’t as perfect as her parents seemed to be.

The two of you made your way to the bathroom, and you watched as she proudly brushed her teeth as you sang a song to her. She made sure to flash her pearly white teeth to you once she was done, earning a thumbs up from you before she ran back to her bedroom. 

You followed close behind, watching her as she threw herself onto her bed and pushed the covers down enough for her to settle onto the mattress.  “Do you and daddy mess up a lot?” 

“Everyone messes up, it’s a part of life. It’s how you handle those mess ups that matter.” You leaned down to kiss her cheek as you pulled her fluffy purple comforter up right under her chin. 

“I love you Cece-bug. Forever and always.” 

“I love you too, mommy.” You leaned forward to click on the small little nightlight sitting upon her bedside table. Little stars illuminated her ceiling, showing where the constellations currently rested within the real sky at this very hour. She would always watch them so intently to put herself to sleep. But tonight, tonight she was neary snoring by the time the stars clicked to life. 

With feet as light as feathers you tiptoed away from her room, being cautious to not let the hardwood flooring creak below you. 

Josh was already staring through the archway as you made your way back toward the living room, a smile growing in his face as he observed the relaxed expression on your face. “Everyone tucked in bed?” 

You nodded as you melted onto the couch, more so onto your husband really. “She was out like a light the second her head hit the pillow.”

He had removed his shirt in the time you were gone, allowing you to feel the heat of his skin beneath your cheek as you rested your head on his chest. “How was Cal tonight, still fussy?”

His fingers found their way to your scalp, gently brushing through the tangles in your hair, earning a hum of approval from you. “He wasn’t too bad, I think he was just overtired from playing with Cece outside today.”

One of his hands swept along your jaw, stopping once his fingers were beneath your chin to lift your gaze to him. “Well, my love. What would you like to do now that they’re asleep? We could take a nice bath, or watch a movie, or we could just go to sleep if that’s what you’d like.”

You smiled, feeling his hand slip out from under your chin, and turned to press a kiss to his open palm before letting your lips meet the smooth skin of his chest. Your hand traced along the delicate curves of his torso, and he watched with a confused look as you glanced up at him when your fingers caught the edge of a sticker. You peeled it from his skin and lifted it so that you both could see it. “She really had the time of her life with these didn’t she?”

Josh chuckled, the rumble of his chest vibrating through you as he took the sticker from between your fingers and placed it on the small table bedside the couch. “She seemed to enjoy herself.”

You giggled at his statement, your lips finding their way back to his skin as his fingers began to trace along your scalp again. He watched, with a small but wicked grin, as you leisurely kissed your way down his body. When your lips met the edge of a sticker, your eyes flickered up to meet his, your free hand slowly peeling it from the space above his belly button before the space was taken up once again, this time by your lips. 

“Now it seems like you’re enjoying yourself…” His breathy words flowed out smoothly, his eyes locked upon your actions. Josh adjusted on the couch, lowering his hips to allow easier access for sticker removal. 

“Maybe a little.” Your sultry words flowed right above a small rainbow sticker to the side of his belly button. You nipped at the skin, finishing the love bite off by gently peeling the paper by your teeth.   

You felt his breath hitch as you pulled away, eyes locked onto the back of your head as he silently begged for more. With the removal of each sticker, a gentle kiss was left in its place. The closer you got to the waistband of his shorts, the heavier his breathing got, and as your hand brushed the length of his covered cock, a whimper floated from between his lips into the tranquil evening air.

There was no hesitation from him in assisting you as you peeled the remaining two layers of clothing from his body, leaving him lying bare beneath you, eyes locked on your every movement as you leaned forward to press a kiss in the soft divots of his hips, both hands gripping the firm muscle of his thighs. 

“You know Josh…” You began, mesmerized by the sight before you as if it were your first time with him. Your hands rubbed up and down his thigh so slowly it had Josh sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. “There are only a few things I praise in this world,” you kissed his hip “but your cock is my favorite.”

The delicate whimper from above gave you all the confidence you needed to move those kisses from his hips to his throbbing shaft. The vein pulsed beneath your tongue as you traced a small line up to the tip. 

“Is that so, angel?” The words came out in the softest of purrs. As you raised your gaze to nod directly at him you were awestruck by his expression. His lower jaw was hung limp as he slowly breathed out of his mouth. Chest heaving with anticipation. His eyes staring directly through you like a predator watching its prey’s every move, seconds from pouncing. “Go on then. Prove it.”

 He didn’t need to instruct you any further, as your lips wrapped around the perfectly formed head of his cock. You let every single inch of him glide along your tongue with relative ease, and were rewarded with a long, drawn out and raspy 'fuuck' from above you. 

The warmth of Josh’s hands wrapped around to find a place on the back of your head. His fingers curled into your hair to gently grab hold of a few sections of your locks. “Just like that, baby.” He managed to praise under his breath. 

Your mouth slowed around him as you let your tongue teasingly trace every vein you could find. Growing impatient, that grip upon the back of your head pushed you down as his hips bucked upwards. 

He realized quickly what he had done, releasing his hand from your head as you pulled yourself off of his cock. You lifted your gaze to his face, finding a look of worry painted on his features. The expression melted away quickly when he saw the relaxed smirk on your lips. “Patience, Joshua.”  

You loved it. The way the simple words that flowed from your mouth brought forth a sense of submission from him. To be honest his impatience and eagerness was something that always excited you. The want to feel wanted. 

So as he sat there, controlling the urge to thrust his hips, you looked up to revel in the beauty his parted lips held. Appreciate the haze in his lust filled eyes. To think your husband, the father of your children, could be reduced down to such a puddle just because you had your mouth wrapped around his cock. 

His whimpers and groans kept you in your steady, unwavering pace and it wasn’t long before the twitch of his cock told you exactly how far Josh was from release. 

You quickly switched from your mouth to just your hand, earning a curiously disappointed frown from the man above you. “Stand.” 

At your demand he did exactly as you said, standing before you to look down at you kneeling for him. Your mouth reconnected with him, continuing exactly where you had left off. 

When you could feel the pulsating against your tongue you opened your mouth wide, tongue extended outwards. Your eyes were locked on his, and the sight alone brought a bead of sweat running down his temple. 

“Fuck, angel, wanna watch that pretty tongue get covered with my cum.” He grunted, so close to the edge as your hand took over where your mouth left off.

You watched his eyes roll back, fluttering closed as you squeezed just the slightest bit tighter over the tip, and your lips turned up in a mischievous smirk. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin at the base, keeping your eyes locked on his face as you spoke. “Hard to watch with your eyes closed, baby.”

His eyes peeled open, fighting against his lust heavy eyelids to watch as you slowly ran your tongue along the length of his cock. He lasted a few more strokes before his orgasm had him lifting both of his hands to cover his face, a desperate attempt to remain quiet.

You couldn’t blame him for needing to close his eyes once he had finally released all he had to give onto your tongue, nor could you blame him for falling back onto the couch. You simply remained kneeling in front of him, watching as he slowly regulated his breathing. Eventually his eyes opened once again, a drowsy grin playing on his lips as his eyes finally locked onto you. “Always so good to me, angel.”

He leaned forward, placing two fingers beneath your chin to keep your eyes locked on his as he swiped his thumb from the corner of your mouth, across your bottom lip. “Seems like you missed a bit, babe.”

Your lips turned to a smirk and you parted them just enough for his thumb to slide between them. Your tongue pressed against the pad of his thumb, cleaning the cum from it before releasing it with a soft ‘pop’.

Once the two of you were finally able to break the intense stare you had found yourself locked in, Josh helped you stand from the floor, and promptly accepted your help when you offered a hand to get off the couch. There were no words necessary as the two of you made your way upstairs, you both made a b-line for the bathroom, and while you were warming up the water, he pulled towels from the closet for the both of you.

It was a brief shower, just long enough for each of you to clean yourselves. Josh left you in the bathroom to do your skincare routine, knowing how much you appreciated the moment to yourself at the end of the day. When you finally reentered your bedroom, he was strewn out over the sheets, his eyes closed and his hand over his chest as it slowly rose and fell. 

You stopped walking when your thighs gently pressed into the plush mattress, staring at the wall ahead of you as you separated your hair into sections, slowly weaving them around each other in a simple braid. You were so lost in the action that you didn’t notice Josh opening his eyes and seeing you, or how he crawled across the bed to get to you, what drew your attention was the soft pressure of his hands as they trailed up your sides. You watched with a raised brow as he tugged at the towel that you had wrapped around you, continuing to braid as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the center of your chest. “Whatcha doing, babe?”

He hummed against your skin as he began littering kisses across the tops of each of your breasts. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

A small giggle escaped you as you wrapped a hair tie around the end of your braid. When your hands were finally free, they found purchase in the soft curls that covered Josh’s head, pulling him away from your chest and tilting it up to look at you. “How are you still in the mood?” 

He leaned into your grasp, turning just enough to press a soft kiss to your wrist before looking up at you. “If it means I am giving or receiving pleasure from you, baby, I’m always in the mood.”

“I gave you a blowjob like half an hour ago.”

He smiled, lifting his hands to your own and gently coaxing them from his hair as he lifted himself to be level with you as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to your own. “And now it’s my turn to make you feel good, angel.”

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, send me a dm, ask, or fill out my taglist form!

@amouratomique @godlygreta @castlebythesea @joshkiszkas @celestialfauna @streamsofstardust @fireandsaltydogs @vulture-withafile @lupinevanfleet @garagebandvanfleet @weightofdreams-gvf @silverstormgvf @somedayrikersomeday @allieboop @subtleintelect @chana-gvf @the-chaotic-cow @dannythedog @heatmyfleet @screechesincoherently @trafficwasabitch @fleetsonfire @xserenax-13 @doodle417 @gvfrry @agirlwithmanytastes @b3l1nda @gretavanfleas @brokenbellz @freckled-wonderland @st4rdust-ch0rds @sarakay-gvf @angelbabyivy @irrevocably24 @basiccortez @s0livagant @grace-gvf @abbynotsonormal @ashabeannn @fetaransleet @gvfgroopie19 @the-weightof-dreams @kayleea122 @georgesstripedpants @carlybubs @ryegvf @obetrolncocktails @prophetofthedune

[385bookreviews]

1.73.3 House of Flame and Shadow by Sarah J Maas

SPOILERS for all of Crescent City and A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pages: 838

Time Read: 13 hours and 14 minutes

Overall Rating: 3★ Storyline: 2★ Dialogue: 2.5★ Characters: 2★

Genre: Urban fantasy

TWs for the book: Torture, war, violence, death, s*xual content, gore, blood, murder, injury, confinement, vomit, misogyny/sexism, grief, fire, body horror, colonization, kidnapping, cursing, genocide, child death, gun violence, slavery, physical abuse, s*xual abuse, discussions of r*pe, toxic relationship, drug use, emotional abuse, classism, genocide, excrement, cannibalism, death of a parent, gaslighting, child abuse

POV: Third person

Time Period/Location: Begins immediately after the events of House of Sky and Breath; Crescent City, the Eternal City, Avallen, Nena, the Depth Charger; Prythian in the A Court of Thorns and Roses world; The Court of Nightmares, The Prison

First Line: The Hind knelt before her undying masters and contemplated how it would feel to tear out their throats.

At the end of House of Sky and Breath, Bryce opened a portal in an attempt to go to Hel but ended up in Prythian. Rhysand, Amren, and Azriel take her to a cell in the Court of Nightmares and ask her questions, most of which she refuses to answer and lies about the Horn and how she got there and her powers. When left alone, she winnows down through the grate where monsters are kept. Her starlight clears a path and she goes down a tunnel. Nesta finds her and threatens to bring her back but Bryce runs and the tunnel collapses so they keep going forward. They encounter a Middengard wyrm but keep pushing forward through the tunnels, and Azriel reveals that he was there the whole time. Bryce sets a trap for Nesta and Azriel using the wyrm, but then immediately regrets it and goes back to help. She discovers that Azriel and Nesta were fine and lured her back, and then Nesta uses the Mask from the Dread Trove to kill the wyrm. They continue onwards through the tunnels, and end up passing through a portal that takes them under the Prison. They are greeted by a holographic video of Silene, the second daughter of Queen Theia, and she explains what happened. The Asteri used to rule Prythian as the Daglan, but High King Fionn and Queen Theia, along with her general Pelias and with the help of the Starsword (Gwydion) and Truth-Teller, dispatched them. Fionn and Theia had Helena and Silene, and Theia ruled over the Dusk Court, now known as the Prison. Theia desired to conquer more worlds, but Fionn said no, so Theia and Pelias killed him and used the Mask and the Horn, the fourth part of the Dread Trove, to open a portal to Midgard. The Asteri were in different forms this time, and welcomed them with open arms, along with the fae shifters from another world. Under the guidance of the Asteri, the fae and the rest of the Vanir began to oppress the humans. But then the Asteri put a parasite into the water that would lessen magic and give the Vanir a human lifespan if they didn't make the Drop and give up part of their firstlight to the Asteri. The demons of Hel came to try and aid the Vanir in fighting back, and Aidas and Theia became lovers. Realizing they weren't going to win, Theia gave Silene and Helena each a third of her power, and then sent them with the Harp and the Horn to go back to Prythian. Helena pushed Silene through but stayed behind, and Pelias defeated Theia and forcefully wed Helena. Silene hid the third of her power her mother had given her deep beneath their old palace in the Dusk Court, and collected monsters to imprison there and turned the Prison into what it is. Then she married the High Lord of the Night Court, and keyed her DNA to the prison, and that is why Bryce and Rhysand can access it. Bryce takes the power she stored there, and when Nesta and Azriel try to take her back to the rest of the Court, she fights back and collapses part of the floor, where they discover an imprisoned Asteri named Vesperus. She was imprisoned by Silene, and reveals that the Illyrians were created by the Asteri/Daglan to be their warriors (the precursors for angels). Nesta and Bryce kill Vesperus, and Bryce steals Truth-Teller from Azriel and goes back to Midgard.

Meanwhile, Hunt, Ruhn, and Baxian are being tortured by Pollux back on Midgard while Lidia ponders on how to free them. Baxian chews off Ruhn's hand in an escape attempt but it fails. Back in Lunathion, Ithan has freed the Fendyr heir, Sigrid, from the Astronomer. Ithan, Sigrid, Flynn, Declan, Marc, and the sprites search the Meat Market for any clues on what happened to Bryce. While there, Sabine and the wolf packs detect their presence. They try to run but end up walking into a trap. Flynn and Declan shoot Sabine in the leg and face to slow her down, and the Viper Queen hides them. They discover Tharion and Ariadne, and fill Tharion in on what has been going on. Lidia then appears and tells them to get on the Ocean Queen's city ship and head to the Eternal City because she is going to free Ruhn, Baxian, and Hunt. They struggle trying to believe her but feel they don't have any other choice. The Viper Queen says she will only allow them to leave if Ithan fights someone of her choosing. He agrees. Tharion convinces Ariadne to not fight him, and the Viper Queen reveals that Ariadne has agreed to go and work for someone else. She demands that Ithan and Sigrid fight to the death, and Ithan kills Sigrid. The three sprites light the Meat Market on fire, and they all escape and head to the city ship. Ithan, however, backs out last minute and runs to the House of Flame and Shadow to talk to Jesiba and convince her to find a necromancer to raise Sigrid from the dead. Jesiba agrees, as long as Ithan does some work for her. She reveals she was a priestess in the library of Parthos 15,000 years ago, and that she was cursed by Apollion to live forever because she wouldn't tell him the magic in the books (there was none). Hypaxia appears and reveals that a coup overthrew her as queen of the Valbarran witches and that she was deciding to swear fealty to the House of Flame and Shadow. Ithan asks her to use her necromancer abilities to raise Sigrid and she agrees. She tries, but when Sigrid comes back, she decides to become a Reaper, and goes off to work with the Under King. Hypaxia says the only way to get Sigrid back would be using a thunderbirds' lightning, so they travel to Avallen in order to get Sofie Renast's body.

Bryce arrives from Prythian in her father's house, and she spends several days as prisoner there. She attempts to get answers from him regarding the Starsword and Truth-Teller, and he says anything of import would be on Avallen. She breaks free from the gorsian shackles and locks her father in his basement and winnows away.

In the Eternal City, Rigelus takes some of Hunt's lightning in order to resurrect the Harpy. Lidia frees Irithys, queen of the fire sprites. The Asteri demand to see Hunt, Baxian, and Ruhn, presumably to execute Ruhn. On the way, Lidia kills the guards and the Hawk, and they make an escape attempt. Irithys blows up part of the Crystal Palace, but the dreadwolves hunt them anyways. They drive towards the sea, and as they hit a dead end, she tells Hunt and Baxian to fly Ruhn to the ship, and she shifts into her deer form and runs. The three make it to the ship, but Ruhn begs Tharion to jump into the water to save Lidia when she reaches the end of the cliff and has to jump. Lidia is shot, but leaps into the water, and Tharion is able to bring her onboard the ship where the medics heal her. When she awakes on the Depth Charger, Lidia immediately runs to a school on board the ship and looks into a classroom with two teenage boys, Brann and Acteon, and claims that they are her sons. Hunt, Baxian, and Ruhn are asked to meet with the Ocean Queen, and the Ocean Queen is furious with Tharion for being there and bringing his friends aboard when the River Queen and the Viper Queen both want him dead. Bryce suddenly appears, and claims herself to be Queen of the Fae and that Tharion serves her. The Ocean Queen backs off, but says Tharion is confined to the ship, and the group reunites. Bryce says they are going to Avallen, to find out more information on the Starsword. When they arrive, Tharion leaps into the boat with them and defies the Ocean Queen. King Morven, the Stag King and Cormac's father, is less than welcoming. He presents Flynn's sister Sathia, saying that her parents sought refuge here and in his lands fae females need to be wed. He plans on marrying her to one of his cruel, telepathic twin sons, but Tharion steps forward and offers to marry Sathia. They get married, and the group splits up to look for clues; Bryce, Hunt, Baxian, Tharion, and Sathia going into the caves, and Ruhn, Lidia, Declan, and Flynn staying behind to search the archives. They travel through the caves, and Ruhn and Lidia grow closer, but don't notice that Flynn and Declan are missing. In the caves, they are confronted by the Stag King, the Autumn King, and the twins, with Flynn and Declan prisoners. Bryce collapses the cave and jumps into an underground river with the rest of them. Bryce and Hunt fight, but they continue onwards and find the crypt of Prince Pelias. Beneath it they find an entire room carved out of obsidian salt, and bowls to drink water laced with it. Bryce and Hunt drink the water and are mentally transported to Hel. Ruhn and Lidia realize Declan and Flynn are missing and go to the caves to search for them. When Hunt and Bryce arrive in Hel, they are greeted by Apollion, Thanatos, and Aidas. They reveal that they have been waiting for Bryce for a long time, and that they created the thunderbirds to be able to power her up if she was unable to find Silene and Helena's powers. The thunderbirds were killed by the Asteri for this, and that is when they decided to create Hunt. Apollion and Thanatos were both part of his creation, and his mother was a willing participant. Hunt's angel father was killed for communing with the demons. They tell Hunt that the halo of thorns tattoo was created to keep the creatures of Hel in check, but it didn't work as Apollion and Hunt's power, the lightning that they called Helfire, was able to break it. When Bryce and Hunt return from their trance, they find the Stag King and the Autumn King holding all of their friends hostage. They plan to kill them all but Bryce and Hunt fight back, and Ruhn and Lidia appear and Ruhn uses the Starsword to kill his father. Bryce then kills the Stag King, and accesses Helena's power that was hidden under there.

Avallen magically flourishes now that it doesn't have to hide Helena's power. Hypaxia and Ithan arrive and are updated on the situation. Bryce tells Hypaxia she needs her to find a cure for the parasite in the water so that way they can be more powerful when they fight the Asteri. Bryce says because the Stag King's castle was destroyed when the land came back, Sofie's body is gone, but Hunt gives them some of his lightning. Hypaxia and Ithan leave again, and Fury arrives with Juniper, Ember, Randall, and Cooper (Emile). Bryce sends Ruhn, Lidia, Flynn, and Declan back to Crescent City to try and recruit Isaiah and Naomi, Tharion and Sathia to the River Queen to convince her to open her city to refugees, and she, Hunt, and her parents plan to go to Nena to open the Northern Rift to let Hel's armies in. Cooper, Juniper, Fury, and Baxian stay in Avallen. Once in Nena, they get to the Rift, but instead of opening it to Hel, Bryce opens it to Nesta's room. She asks her for the Mask, and to take her parents as collateral. Nesta refuses, and says Rhysand is on his way to get her. Bryce begs Nesta to take her parents anyways so that way they are safe, and Nesta relents, taking her parents but also giving her the Mask. She closes the portal, and is about to open one to Hel but is stopped by Isaiah, Naomi, and Celestina. Hunt tries to kill Celestina for turning them over to the Asteri, and he melts his halo and Isaiah's. Bryce convinces him not to, and Celestina yields, saying she realized what she did wrong and is willing to rebel against the Asteri. They are then attacked by the Harpy, who has been reanimated by the Asteri using Hunt's lightning, but Bryce realizes she's just an animated corpse and no longer has a soul, so she uses the Mask to put her down. She then opens the gates to Hel, and Apollion, Thanatos, and Aidas come through with their armies.

Back in Lunathion, Hypaxia discovers the cure to the parasite. Ithan takes it, and is gifted powers of snow and ice, and his wolf form is much more powerful. They then go to see the Under-King, and Ithan meets with Connor. He is unable to speak but gives Ithan a bullet. Ithan is confused and begs the Under-King for more time, but he refuses. Ithan freezes him solid, and then Jesiba appears. She tells Hypaxia to kill him and she does, and becomes the leader of the House of Flame and Shadow. She gives Connor the ability to speak, and he tells Ithan that the bullet is filled with the secondlight of all of the souls in the Bone Quarter, and Bryce should use it to kill the Asteri. Connor also puts himself into the bullet. Ithan decides to go to the wolves and confess what happened to Sigrid and tell them about the cure to the parasite. Sabine appears with the Astronomer and Reaper Sigrid, and claims that Sigrid is now her heir. The Prime steps in and renounces Sigrid and Sabine, and makes Ithan his heir. But before Ithan can accept, Sabine kills the Prime and Sigrid sucks out his soul. Sigrid also kills the Astronomer, and Ithan kills Sabine. Sigrid escapes, and Amelie and Perry Ravenscroft swear loyalty to him as Prime. Tharion and Sathia manage to convince the River Queen to not kill Tharion and to shelter innocents in her city. They are confronted by the Viper Queen, and Sathia recognizes one of her childhood best friends as one of the Viper Queen's soldiers. The Viper Queen demands retribution from Tharion for the burning of the Meat Market caused by the sprites. Hypaxia and Ithan appear and demand that the Viper Queen leave them alone, but Sathia goes after her old friend, leaving Tharion alone.

Lidia learns that the Depth Charger has been attacked and her sons have been taken by Pollux. Everyone rushes to the Eternal City. Bryce and Hunt winnow into the throne room and Bryce uses the Mask to reanimate the souls of the Fallen and their wings hanging up on the throne room wall, and puts their souls into the mech suits that the Asteri have built. Rigelus appears and reveals that he has sent half of his army to march into the open portal and take over Hel, but Bryce and the demons planned for this and already left half of their army guarding the portal. The rest of the Asteri appear on the battlefield, and Bryce kills Polaris by combining the Starsword and Truth-Teller. This opens a mini black hole that sucks Polaris in and kills her. Ruhn and Lidia search the castle for her sons, but Ruhn shoots her in the leg so he can go on ahead to save them. Tharion finds Lidia, and Pollux traps Ruhn. Tharion and Lidia both take the cure to the parasite and Lidia faces off against Pollux. Ruhn reveals that Lidia is his mate. Lidia's power manifests as fire, and she burns Pollux to ash. Ruhn rushes Brann and Actaeon out of the city, and Lidia joins the fight. Hunt and Bryce arrive at the firstlight core beneath the palace, but Rigelus is guarding it. They both tire, and Bryce winnows them away. Ithan finds Bryce and gives her the bullet and the Godslayer rifle. She winnows back to Rigelus only to find the remaining four Asteri guarding it. She plans to use the bullet to blow up the firstlight core, but Rigelus tells her that destroying it is a kill switch, just like the Cauldron is in Prythian. If she destroys it, Midgard will also be destroyed. Bryce takes a chance and does it anyways. It creates a massive black hole that sucks her and the Asteri into it. She pulls the black hole through a portal into space, but as long as the portal is open, the rest of Midgard also continues to get pulled in. Hunt jumps into a mech suit, piloted by the soul of Shahar, and jumps through, putting on the Mask so he doesn't need to breathe. The portal begins to close but Apollion, Aidas, Thanatos, Ithan, Ruhn, and the rest of their friends hold it open while Hunt rescues Bryce and pulls her back through. Bryce, however, is dead. Hypaxia says she can bring her back if someone trades lives with her, and Jesiba appears and volunteers. She talks with Bryce in the afterlife, revealing that even what the Asteri was doing couldn't destroy the souls of the dead. She waves to Danika, Lehabah, and the Pack of Devils, and comes back to life. The demons all go back to Hel, and Bryce closes the Northern Rift. She then, being the Queen of the Avallen and Valbarran fae, demolishes the monarchy. Lidia's sons go back to their adoptive fathers. Hypaxia begins working on mass producing the cure. Tharion goes back to the Meat Market to find Sathia, and runs into Ariadne instead. Ithan takes on his duties as Prime.

The bonus chapters for this book included Ruhn and Lidia getting married, Hunt and Bryce spending Winter Solstice at her parents', the night Danika tricked Bryce into getting the Horn tattooed, Bryce, Azriel, and Nesta listening to music together off of Bryce's phone, and Ember and Randall in the Night Court and Ember bonding with Nesta.

Bryce Quinlan (Bryce Danaan/Queen of the Fae/Starborn): I always preferred Bryce over Hunt and wished she had been on her own or with someone else, mostly because I don't care for Hunt. But she really lost all respect from me in this book and was acting totally out of character. Her telling Hunt to just get over his trauma and picking fights with him all the time was so unnecessary and a horrible way to treat your partner. She made everything that happened to him about her, and she was also awful to Lidia near the end and didn't even apologize for calling her kids baggage. Bryce was trying to be Aelin but was falling way short. Her death at the end had no impact on me whatsoever because it was obvious she was about to pull a Rhysand and resurrect. Also her using her parents' as collateral, and then trying to send them through anyways to keep them safe was so selfish. They would have been safe in Avallen and if she didn't think they would be, she just forced them to leave their son there! I wish we could have seen Ember tearing Bryce up for that choice because she definitely deserved it. You would think after everything she would have had some growth, especially with her attitude towards the Fae, but then she just childishly dismantles their monarchy and basically tells them to figure it out. Giving the Fae a vote in how they run things while trying to push for change of thousands of years old belief systems was so not the way to do that. Ruhn killed Einar, and Bryce killed Morven, so they both should have been stepping up to take responsibility for the fate of their people.

Hunt Athalar (Orion Athalar/the Hunter/the Umbra Mortis/Son of Hel): Hunt has never been my favorite but I just felt bad for him this whole book. Bryce honestly did not deserve him by the end of it and the fact that none of her horribleness towards him got addressed and he mostly ended up apologizing was so out of character and honestly abusive. On a positive note, I really liked his backstory of being descended from demons, I think that was much better and made way more sense than the god Thurr theories, even though it was annoying for all of those references and comparisons to come to nothing.

Tharion Ketos (Captain Tharion Ketos): I liked Tharion in House of Earth and Blood. I liked him less in House of Sky and Breath. In this book, his entire purpose just seemed to be the village idiot. It was really boggling how badly he kept messing everything up, and anything from his POV was kind of infuriating. The only thing that ended up making anything about his story interesting was Sathia.

Ithan Holstrom (Prime of the Valbarran Wolves): I've heard a lot of people complaining about Ithan and his POV and storyline, but I honestly kind of enjoyed it. He made a lot of dumb decisions, but I liked the trope of "running from destiny but no matter what you do it happens anyways". I'm hoping in the next book we actually get to see him gain more confidence and wisdom and do things right.

Einar Danaan (The Autumn King/King of the Valbarran Fae): I was really disappointed with where his character went, I felt like he was being set up for a redemption arc the entire time, just for him to be like, "I'm totally evil and I'm going to kill you!" in very over the top classic villain fashion. I know the whole point is that he was manipulative, but that's not how it came across.

Lidia Cervos (Agent Daybright/the Hind): Lidia was the most interesting character in this book. I knew going into this that Throne of Glass was definitely not going to be getting the screen time some people thought it was, I thought this was a perfect way to incorporate easter eggs. I knew her powers were going to be fire but it didn't make the reveal any less awesome. And the ring she gave her sons and the fact that she named her son Brannon was just the icing on the cake. Other than that, she had the most interesting character development, backstory, dialogue, and POVs than anyone else in the book (especially Bryce).

Storyline: I loved the ACOTAR crossover in the beginning, I thought it wasn't too much or too little. The rest of the story was riddled with a lot of plot holes, for example the reveal that the mer had been on Midgard the whole time fell flat because Rigelus had told Bryce in House of Sky and Breath that the mer came from the shifter fae (which made less sense but she just changed something that had already been established for mild convenience). Other things include: What really is Fury and why were her and Baxian, two of their most powerful fighters, left out of the biggest fight ever? What is so different about Perry that Ithan keeps sensing? Are they mates? Is she actually an Alpha? Is she secretly super powerful? Why was Ariadne, a super powerful dragon, introduced just to not do anything ever? What was all the tension between her and Flynn for? Everything just magically fell into place, and while in Kingdom of Ash everything comes together because Aelin is a genius, a lot of things come together in this book thanks to Urd (fate). The ending fell really flat for me, no one major died, and it was a lot shorter of an ordeal than I thought it would be, with one of the Asteri even dying off page and no one mentions how they died or who killed them (although I guess we're left to assume it was Apollion). Hunt and Bryce's dynamic usually annoyed me, but their back and forth between fighting, fucking, and fine was giving me whiplash and honestly taking away from the story. What happened with Sigrid did anger me at the time, but ultimately I did enjoy Ithan's storyline, contrary to popular opinion. Also, why did we spend so much of the story in caves? I got really tired of that by the second time around.

Representation: Baxian, Celestina, Juniper, Fury, Hypaxia, Marc, Isaiah, Hunt, Bryce, etc. were all POC. Juniper and Fury, Marc and Declan, Hypaxia and Celestina, and Davit and Renki (Brann and Actaeon's fathers) were all gay and in relationships with each other.

Summary: While the crossover and easter eggs were really cool, and the overall tie together of how everything connected was well done, the characters, dialogue, and plot made this book fall a lot flatter for me than I was hoping it would. I honestly wish SJM had wrapped up everything in this book and then left it as a trilogy because honestly I don't feel any desire to revisit this world or these characters (unless it's Ruhn and Lidia).