#wings of freedom took me a week i think?

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (v)

FIVE - CHECKMATE

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 8.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, graphic violence, smut, rough sex, minimal aftercare, oral (f receiving), p in v, overstimulation, HEAVY angst

You love Rhysand, with all your heart. He welcomed you into Velaris when you had nowhere to go. He gave you not only a home, but a family—and a loving one, at that. But if there’s one thing you can’t stand about the highest of High Lords, it’s his incessant, never-ending, mind-numbing nagging. If patience is a virtue, then he’s a vice.

Any news, my little liaison?

You can sense the question coming before his talons so much as tap on the cobblestone barriers of your mind.  

Not since the last five times you’ve asked.

You know it’s rude, but frankly, you don’t have the energy to hide the irritation laced so clearly in your tone. In your defense, Rhys has doubled the frequency of his daily check-ins, and between the lack of information you have to share and your feelings for Eris that you can no longer ignore, you’re seconds away from winnowing back to Velaris just to give the High Lord a piece of your mind.

Someone’s feisty today.

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes your skin crawl with agitation.

Very. Now if you don’t mind, I have a book to get back to, you snap.

He swiftly replies, Need I remind you that daily check-ins are part of your employment, and that your income is contingent on you doing your job?

You are so going to punch him when you get back.

Don’t pull rank on me, asshole. I’ll get the job done.

The cobblestone barriers go back up and you stare down at the book in your lap with a sour taste in your mouth. Your reading session has effectively been spoiled. But as much as it pains you to admit, Rhys’s incessant nagging doesdrive you into gear. 

After several attempts snooping through the Forest House, you’ve concluded that whatever Eris is hiding isn’t there. So, that leaves one place: the cottage by the waterfall. 

You’ve been putting it off—ever since the night Eris took your virginity. If your emotions were conflicting before, they are at bloody war now. You no longer want any part in this scheme—not when you care for him so deeply, it hurts. But you know that if you return to Velaris now, empty-handed with a week left in your mission, you’ll have no ground to stand on when the accusations come rolling in.

With a long sigh, you set the book down and haul yourself from the comfort of your bed. You don’t want to go to that cottage. Searching it feels like an afront to Eris. However, if you don’t, then the nagging seed planted by the High Lord of the Night Court himself will continue clawing through your thoughts. So, you reluctantly pull on your boots and drape your cloak over your shoulders before winnowing away from that ransack cabin you’re quickly growing to love.

 The kaleidoscope of colors and crashing sounds of the waterfall are just as breathtaking as they were the first time you visited. But they don’t hold the same serenity—perhaps they sense your ulterior motive, somehow dimming their magic. As you make your way to the watermill, you don’t allow yourself to indulge in the natural beauty of this place, or the memories of what transpired the last time you were here. You have a job to do, and it requires searching every inch of that little cottage—if not to quiet Rhys’s nagging, then to satiate your own budding curiosity.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It's much easier said than done—letting the mind’s rationality dominate the body’s desires. All those ancient philosophers were fools for thinking that the two entities could be separated, when they are so inherently intertwined.

You weren’t surprised that there was nothing to be found in that little cottage. With a heavy heart, you find yourself perched atop a boulder at the peak of the waterfall, just inches away from the ledge. It feels poetic—physically placing yourself on the brink of crashing down just as your inner sense of self teeters on the edge. 

This place, in all its magnificence, has changed you. Whether it’s for better or for worse, you’re unsure. But you know that you won’t leave Autumn as the same woman who came. Not when you’ve experienced so much. It’s not the sights you’ve seen, or the raw nature you’ve lived in. Rather, it’s the unification of your mind and body, fused together by an otherworldly force you’ve only read about. 

The thought of leaving, of losing that piece that’s been missing for 70 years, makes your chest ache. You don’t want to lose Eris—you can’t. But staying means continuing to live a lie until he finds out who you really are. Staying means losing him indefinitely. 

As you stare out at the falling water, you plead for some kind of clarity. Something to push you in the right direction. The red and golden trees which remind you so much of your mother billow softly in the wind, rustling in a hushed whisper. Your chest tightens with a different kind of pain. It’s now, more than ever before, that you need her here. You don’t even need to hear her voice, just the warmth of her embrace. So, you close your eyes and relax each muscle in your body, from your head to your toes. You focus on the whispers of the trees, the grumblings of the water, and allow light to take you. You can feel it extending from your fingertips, wrapping around your body just as she would. It’s warm—just like her. And as your eyes flutter open, her light flooding your vision, the answer comes to you.

You can’t leave Eris behind with the memory of a female who doesn’t exist. Nor can you stay here, waiting until he figures you out for himself or Rhys comes looking. If you come clean, Eris won’t be forgiving. But at least this way, with all your metaphorical cards laid out on the table, you’ll both have the peace of mind to move on, for better or for worse.

The light surrounding you rushes back into your fingertips and you take one last glance at the beautiful scenery before you, imprinting it in your memory, before winnowing away without a second thought. The dusty cabin greets you as it always does, and you move with purpose towards the pen Eris had once left you on your bedside table. You hastily tear a page from one of Nesta’s books, and scribble onto the back.

Can I see you tonight? 

You pause in thought, before adding,

My filthy little romance books are becoming a bit boring.

A satisfied smile curls onto your lips, and you neatly fold the page in half before setting it back down on the table. Despite the raging storm looming ahead, the little bit of light heartedness puts your poor nerves at ease. You find yourself unable to sit still as you pace around the cabin, your eyes never leaving the note. Goosebumps erupt along your arms when the piece of paper vanishes with a crack. You hold your breath as you wait for a reply—but it doesn’t come. You stare, unmoving, at the spot where the note once sat. You stare at that dusty table until the gold of the setting sun floods through the windows, until it eventually leaves, until you’re left with only the flickering flames behind you lighting the bleak space.

Frustration bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You’ve barely seen Eris since that fateful night in his room. Sure, you’ve had a few visits to the Forest House library since, but they’ve been brief—cut short by his work. Aside from a few passing kisses and fleeting embraces, you haven’t been with Eris in the same way in nearly a week now. As you watch the empty spot on the table, you’re forced to consider the possibility that he may not receive your message, let alone reply; and you have no Plan B if he doesn’t.

To keep yourself from spiraling, you reluctantly tear your eyes away from the table and resign yourself to the kitchen. You redirect your attention by busying yourself with preparing a small dinner. As you rifle through the sparce number of ingredients in your cabinet, you decide that cabbage and potatoes will have to do. You work leisurely preparing your food, all the while keeping an eye on the bedside table in your peripheral. 

Just as you turn the heat off on the stove, a pair of hands grip your waist. Fear courses through you as you whip around with a scream and a knife in your hand. Amber eyes wink back at you, unfazed by the weapon inches away. Your shoulders sag in relief, but you don’t lower the knife as your eyes narrow into slits. Eris plucks the sharp object from your hand.

“I thought you wanted to see me, Little Bird,” he muses, running a finger along the pointed edge.

Your glare deepens, “A little heads up would have been nice. I’ve been waiting hours for a reply.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth as he twirls the blade in his hand. Your lips part as he raises the knife to your face, tracing the dull edge down your cheekbone, along your jawline, before finally settling under your chin. He tilts it slightly, forcing your chin upwards so your eyes meet his. His jaw is clenched and the typically playful glint in his eye is replaced with something slightly more sinister, exuding a cruel beauty you’ve only caught glimpses of before.

“I know you’re drawn to shiny toys, Little Bird, but you should be careful playing with such sharp things,” he drawls, pressing the blade deeper against your skin, “Haven’t you heard that curiosity killed the cat?”

You gulp as a chill prickles your skin. Despite the impish smirk on his face, there’s something more than mere teasing to his words.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” you quip.

A cinch forms between your brows as you try to decipher the hardness of his features. But just as suddenly as the mystery was there, it’s gone. He lowers the knife and sets it down, stepping away from you. He leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He quirks a brow and jerks his head towards the pot of food on the stove, “Well don’t stop on my accord.”

You reluctantly tear your eyes away from his and turn back towards the steaming pot of cabbage and potatoes. You work in a mechanical manner, acutely aware of his penetrating gaze burning holes in the side of your head. Tension is thick in the air. Something is off; your mind screams at you to ask him what’s wrong, but an even greater force keeps the words contained in your throat. He watches as you walk towards the cupboard, standing on your toes to reach the plates on the top shelf. You can hear him shift behind you as you grab two plates and walk back over to the stove. You scoop a modest serving onto one plate, and just as you’re about to scoop out another onto the second plate, his sharp words slice through the silence.

“What are you doing?”

You pause and cock your head towards him. 

“Serving you food,” you stumble, taken aback by the trepidation in his widened eyes, “I made more than I can eat. I know it’s not much, but I figured—”

He strides forward and wraps his hand around your wrist, forcing you to drop the small pot back onto the stove. You wince at the loud clatter of the metal and turn to face him fully. Your eyes are wide with incredulity, irritation blazing.

“What in the world has gotten into you? Have you lost any semblance of manners?” you hiss, yanking your wrist out of his grasp.

His jaw shifts as he grinds his teeth. Eris stalks closer to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. You weakly try to push him away, but his grip is firm.

“Did you forget your little note? I thought you wanted me here for a reason,” his demeanor shifts as he speaks in a low rumble, tracing the tip of his nose along your cheek. He rubs circles onto your waist and trails open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your face, your neck, purposefully avoiding your lips.

“I do,” you gasp as he nips at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, “But we need to talk.”

He presses your further into the counter, “I’m not in the mood.”

You frown, “But—”

His lips crash against yours, effectively cutting you off. Your mind is spinning, yet you can’t help but melt into his touch. The kiss is fast and sloppy but addicting all the same. His tongue swipes along your lower lip, and your mouth parts without hesitation. His lips leave yours and he redirects his attention to your neck, giving you a moment to breathe, a moment for the fog in your head to clear.

“Eris, I—”

“Please,” he groans against your skin and raises his head. He presses his forehead against yours, “Please just let me have this.”

For a split second, his hardened exterior falters and you catch glimpse of a sliver of vulnerability—of pure desperation. The pleading look in his eyes tugs at something deep in your chest, urging you to nod once.

“Okay,” you whisper.

 His lips are back on yours quicker than your rapid heartbeat. This time, you hold nothing back, giving yourself to him entirely. You match his fervor, driven by that sorrowful whisper in the back of your mind that this will be the last time. And if tonight will be your last, then you selfishly wish to leave with this last memory of him. So as your lips slide against his, you memorize every part of him: the tickling sensation of his chapped lips, each ridge of his biceps, the silk of his crimson hair.

“You said you wanted me to let loose last time,” he mumbles into your mouth and yanks the zipper of your dress down, “So I’m letting loose.”

He shoves the material down your shoulders and walks you back towards the bed. You let him lead you and match his rhythm, never missing a beat. Your knees buckle as you hit the back of the bed, and you collapse onto it together in a heap. Eris doesn’t waste a second as he unclasps your bra, and you just as eagerly pull off his shirt. You whine when he abruptly pulls away, but your protests catch in your throat as he moves down your body to your breasts. Your eyes flutter shut, and you tangle your hands in his hair as he kisses, sucks, and nips every inch of your flesh. Your back arches as he swirls his tongue around your peaked nipple and flicks his thumb over the other.

You jolt as he strokes his other hand along the side of your breast where black ink is etched into your skin, hidden from his view by your glamour. Heat pools in your gut as his lips trail down your body, your heartbeat accelerating as he inches towards the trim of your panties. Amber eyes flick up to you. He hooks his fingers underneath the band of your panties, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his pupils blown wide with desire. 

“Talk to me, Little Bird. Use that sharp tongue of yours,” he rasps.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip to contain your whimper as he stretches the band before letting it snap back harshly against your skin.

“I want you between my thighs. I want your mouth on me, your hands all over my body.” He pulls the flimsy material down and you spread your legs, baring yourself to him entirely. Your voice trembles, but you continue, “I want my lips wrapped around your cock. I want you to fuck me into oblivion. I want it all.”

You gasp as he slides a finger through your slick before circling it around your clit.

“Greed is a sin, Little Bird,” he purrs.

Eris slides his other hand up your thigh, wasting no time as he thrusts a finger inside you. A muffled moan escapes your lips as he curls his finger, all the while continuing his ministrations on your clit.

Even with your mind scrambled you still manage to bite back, “Good thing I’m dealing with the devil himself.”

You’re unable to stifle your cry as Eris lurches forward. He dives right in, his lips wrapping around your clit. He continues curling his finger, hitting that delicious spot deep inside you, as his tongue moves skillfully over the swollen bud. He uses his free hand to spread your legs even wider, giving him complete access to the most intimate part of your body. You tangle one hand in his hair, the other grasping the sheets in a white-knuckled grip. You arch your back as he alternates between sucking and flicking his tongue. He quickly picks up his speed, foregoing any teasing, and sinks a second finger into you.

You clench your thighs around his head as you feel the pressure rapidly building in your gut. You tug harshly on his hair in a wordless command to stop before you can finish, but he ignores you. Instead, he buries himself even further, shaking his head as he devours you.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll—”

His teeth graze over your clit, and that’s all it takes for the coil inside you to snap. A pitiful moan escapes your lips as you reach your climax, the orgasm wracking your body so hard you can feel it in your bones. Eris continues flicking his tongue over you, his fingers still moving as he rides you through your release. Unlike last time, he doesn’t stop when your thighs start twitching violently, or when you yank on his hair. A pained cry bubbles in your throat as he keeps going. It’s too much—the overstimulation burns, and your vision starts to blur.

“Eris, please,” you pull again on his hair and he growls against you, “It’s too much.”

He keeps going, even as your thighs close tightly around his head. Black spots dance in your vision, and just when you think you’re about to slip from consciousness, he abruptly pulls off. A sigh of relief passes through your lips and your limbs fall limp. You glance down at him through hooded eyes, watching as he sucks his fingers into his mouth before moving up your body. His tongue flicks out to catch a tear trailing down your cheek.

“I thought you were sinning tonight, Little Bird. Have you a change of heart?” he taunts.

You jolt as his hand reaches down between you and rolls over your clit, swollen red. You grasp his biceps in protest, and he sucks and licks at your neck before pulling his hand away reluctantly.

“I wanted to finish with you inside of me,” you mutter bashfully, a flush crawling up your neck at how quickly he pulled an orgasm out of you.

“Don’t worry, darling. I plan on it,” he mouths at the corner of your lips and rolls his hips against yours, “We’re being greedy tonight, aren’t we?”

You arch your body into his, as if drawn by some magnetic pull. He grinds his hips against yours once more, and you can feel his painfully hard member against your thigh. You throw caution to the wind and wrap your arms around his neck, slotting your lips against his. He responds eagerly, groaning into your mouth as you palm him through the fabric of his pants. You fumble with the fastenings and Eris helps you push the material down in record time, his lips never leaving yours. You slip your tongue into his mouth and simultaneously shove against his shoulders. He flips onto his back, gripping your hips to pull you on top of him. You sink your teeth softly into his bottom lip before pulling away. Eris watches you intently as you gaze down at his throbbing cock sitting proudly against his stomach. He sucks in a breath as you wrap your hand around his member, rolling your thumb over the tip. 

Your eyes light up as an idea crosses your mind, and you lock your eyes with his. His jaw falls slack as you run your fingers through your folds before wrapping your hand around him once more. You use your own dripping arousal as lubricant to move along his length, setting a steady rhythm with the twisting of your wrist. 

“Fuck,” Eris groans, “You truly are sinful.”

You swoop down and wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, but before you can take him completely into your mouth, he hooks his arms underneath yours and yanks you back up his body, as if you weigh nothing. He props himself up with his back against the headboard, forcing you to straddle his lap. You pout at his rough handling but can’t contain the moan that pours from your lips as he jerks his hips upwards, rubbing his cock between your folds.

“Playtime’s over, Little Bird,” Eris pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it harshly before releasing it, “I’d rather see you ride my cock like the sinner that you are.”

Something about the low grumble of his words, the way the syllables roll off his tongue, stirs something deep inside of you. You raise your hips up slightly, hovering back and forth over his dick in a teasing maneuver. You snake a hand up his shoulder and around his neck, sinking your nails into the skin of his nape. 

“Those who play with the devil’s toys will be brought by degrees to wield his sword,” you whisper sensually against the corner of his mouth.

He grips your hips tightly, steadying you so your entrance hovers directly above the tip of his dick. His blunt nails scrape against your skin in warning, and he bites back, “Speak of the devil, and his horns appear.”

A strangled cry escapes your lips as he forcefully pulls you down, impaling you on his cock. Your head spins at the burning stretch, the overwhelming fullness of being seated directly on him. Gone is the softness, the reverence of your first time with him, and in its place an unsatiable beast. He barely gives you a minute to adjust.

“Go on then,” he grunts, blunt nails still digging into your hips.

You force yourself to breathe through your nose as you steady yourself on his shoulders before rising up slowly, until just his tip remains. He pulls you back down again, impatient, and you moan in unison at the spine-tingling feeling. Your brows cinch together in concentration as you repeat the movement, slowly becoming accustomed to the new position. His hands guide you, and you fall into a steady rhythm bouncing on his cock. A spark of pleasure rolls through you each time you bottom out, your clit rubbing against his abdomen.

You throw your head back as Eris’s hands snake up your waist and caress your breasts which bounce with each rise and fall. You increase your speed, but your thighs are beginning to tremble. The sweat on your palms makes your hands slide from his shoulders as you fuck yourself on his cock, struggling to chase that high you both so desperately seek. Sensing your exertion, Eris wraps his hand around your neck in a stabilizing maneuver before bucking his hips upwards. You gasp at the sensation, your rhythm faltering. He does it again, and your hands slip from his shoulders completely. He hits you so deeply, you’re sure that there’s a bulge in your stomach.

A long string of moans passes through your lips as Eris continues bucking his hips wildly. You collapse into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder as he fucks up into you so quickly your vision spots. 

“Can’t handle the heat, Little Bird?” he pants, “Didn’t think you’d be so quick to give up.”

You whine in protest but remain pliant in his arms as you let him use you. He alternates his pace, switching from long, deep thrusts to short, shallow ones that build up your high before stripping it away in a torturous manner. 

“Fox got your tongue?” he taunts.

You sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your cries as he continues his punishing pace. He suddenly stills, but before you can even raise your head from his shoulder, he flips you over so your back is against the mattress, hair splayed across your pillows. Eris pulls out completely, and your cunt clenches at the emptiness. He raises your legs, draping them over his shoulders and pulling you flush to his body. For a split second, everything stops, and all you can see, think, touch, and taste his him. The sweat beading on his brow, the rosy flush over his freckled cheeks, and the distant look in those amber eyes you so desperately want to wipe away. Just as suddenly, he plunges back into you with brutal force. 

A string of incoherent babbles falls from your lips as he drives into you, hitting your g-spot over and over again. You scramble for purchase as he straightens his back and pulls your thighs flush to his chest. A tear slips from the corner of your eye at the back-breaking angle.

“Come on, Little Bird,” he grunts as he drives into you, “Talk to me.”

He leans forward, caging you between his elbows as he folds your pliable body in half. The constant switching of angles is dizzying, and you splutter for words through cries of pleasure.

“I can’t,” you all but sob as you desperately claw at his back.

“Yes you can,” he pushes, “Tell me how much you love this.”

He snakes a hand between you and begins rubbing circles over your throbbing clit in perfect time with the force of his thrusts.

“I—I love it,” you gasp, writhing underneath him as the pleasure rapidly builds to a breaking point.

“I know you do,” he moans, his forehead dropping against yours, “No one else can make you feel this good, can they? No one else can absolutely ruin you.”

Your walls flutter around him as your high looms, just seconds away. You shake your head, tears rolling freely down your cheeks.

“Only you,” you cry, “Ruin me, Eris.”

The wave comes crashing over you so violently it feels like drowning. You have no control over the incoherent syllables stringing from your mouth, the convulsing of your thighs, as for the first time in your life, your body separates completely from your mind. Eris crashes his lips against yours as he quickly follows, spilling into you with a guttural groan that shakes you to your core. He continues thrusting into you in a languid manner, coaxing out both of your orgasms and filling you to the brim. You barely manage to move your lips against his, but he strokes his thumb over your cheek in a gentle, soothing manner—a contrast to the roughness with which he’s handled you tonight. You gradually sink into the kiss as you come down from your high and run your hand through his crimson hair, matching his soft touch.

You breathe each other in, relishing in the taste of him. As the ecstasy of your orgasm subsides, another bone-shattering force takes its place: the bitter reminder that these will be your last moments with the male who has so effortlessly turned your world upside down.

Your chest tightens as he detaches his lips from yours, not ready for it to end. His eyes lock onto yours in a fleeting moment of vulnerability before trailing down to the tears still streaming freely down your cheeks. He avoids your gaze as he wipes them away, one by one, with a tender touch. You raise a shaky hand and brush back his tousled hair in a silent plea for him to look at you, to reveal the storm stirring behind his eyes. Instead he pulls away completely, and eases his softening cock out from inside of you. You wince at the combination of physical overstimulation and emotional dejection.

Eris flops onto his back beside you, his chest still heaving. You tentatively peek at him through your peripheral, and find him staring up at the ceiling blankly. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, head spinning as you debate whether or not to break the heavy silence. You divert your gaze to the flaming fireplace in front of you.

“Eris?” you whisper meekly.

He merely grunts in response.

You wet your lips before continuing, “I have to tell you something.”

The sheets don’t so much as rustle; the only sound that fills the quaint little cabin is the crackling of embers. Still, you continue.

“I’m not who I say I am,” your voice trembles. 

Silence. Blistering, gut-wrenching silence.

You turn onto your side, and your heart drops at the sight before you. His eyes are fluttered shut, long lashes gracing the tops of his cheekbones. His swollen lips are parted slightly, and his chest moves steadily with each deep breath—dead asleep. You squint your eyes shut, fighting the urge to scream with frustration. This was not how the night was supposed to go. You were supposed to come clean, to end things in the best way possible given the complexity of your circumstances. But it seems the universe has something else in store for you.

You stare blankly at Eris as he sleeps, silently willing him to stir. Instead, his breathing only slows further, and soft snores start to sound from his lips. Anxiety creeps up your arms, threatening to swallow you whole. The thought alone of waiting a second longer to confess is all-consuming—but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. As you stare at the strong bridge of his nose, you try your best to reassure yourself. Just one more night, and it will all be over.

You crawl underneath the covers, the chilliness of the cabin prickling your skin, and resign yourself to sleep. But even with the warm comfort of the crackling hearth, sleep doesn’t come kindly—not with your racing mind. You try slowing your breaths to match the steady rise and fall of Eris’s chest. You even try counting imaginary sheep in your head, but each time you reach the brink of consciousness you’re abruptly ripped away, leaving it just beyond your reach. With a huff, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You shiver as your bare feet touch the dust-covered floor. Even with the blazing fire in the corner, the chilling autumn winds seem to sneak through the cracks in the walls of the ransack cabin.

You wrap your arms around your bare body and hastily pull on Eris’s tunic before padding towards the kitchenette. The food you’d prepared for the two of you sits on the counter, untouched. The cabbage and potatoes are cold and bland without the proper spices but do the job, temporarily relieving you from the onslaught of your thoughts and the hunger pains from missing your dinner.

 As you eat, you can’t help but study Eris’s sleeping form. Something was off with him tonight. More than just off—looking into his eyes made you feel like a stranger. After your revelation by the waterfall, continuing with your mission wasn’t even an option in your mind. But after tonight…something’s changed. Eris was so detached, so emotionally distant in a way he’s never been before. 

For the first time during your stay, you saw a sign, a confirmation that he is hiding secrets. Beron’s were hidden in plain sight, albeit contained by a magical ward. But Beron is a hubristic male. Eris, on the other hand, is more covert, more sly and cunning—he is, after all, the Fox himself. It wouldn’t make sense for his secrets to be hidden in the Forest House, where his father could get his hands on them, or anywhere Beron knows about, for that matter. But Eris is far too paranoid to leave them hidden out in the forest or the town, where anyone could stumble upon them. He would keep his secrets somewhere only he knows—somewhere he trusts. Or rather, with someone he trusts.

The fork clatters against the counter and your hand goes limp. A chilling realization dawns over you, your eyes widening and lips parting in disbelief. You are the only person in Autumn Eris trusts. Beron has no idea who you are, let alone where you live. You have no real ties to this court. 

They’re here. His secrets are hidden in this dusty, little, ransack cabin.

The initial shock fades and the loud clatter of metal finally registers. You squint at the male in your bed, watching carefully for any changes in his steady breathing. He must be a deep sleeper, you surmise, as the sound of his soft snores still fill the room. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stand from the stool and glance around the small room. Your revelation is so profound, you have no idea where to start.

With trembling hands, you start searching the kitchenette—opening every drawer, inspecting the bottom of the sink, turning over each mug in your cabinet. You move slowly to temper the adrenaline surging through you, careful not to wake the male sleeping in your bed. As you redirect your search to the bathroom, you don’t leave a single spot unturned. And with each possible hiding spot that comes up empty, your hope diminishes a little bit.

Frustration bubbles as you crouch down underneath the bed, only to be met with an empty, dirty floor. Whatever he’s hiding has to be here—there’s no alternative. But after checking every piece of peeling wallpaper, every pocket of your skirts and cloaks, there’s nothing to be found. You plop down in front of the fireplace with a long sigh. You’re technically a genius. Your IQ score is off the charts. But the Fox has you completely and utterly stumped. How hard is it to find a damned hiding spot? You glance up at the red bricks of the fireplace, asking the Mother for some sort of sign. Just a small indication that you’re on the right track, a little—

That brick wasn’t always jutting out.

Your lips part as you study the piece of brick poking out ever so slightly from the rest of the wall. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands, but it’s still there. Bingo.

You rise on shaky legs, peering behind you to make sure Eris is still asleep. The brick is high, but just within your reach when you stand on your tip toes. Your heart pounds in your chest as you grip the edges and pull. It slides out of the wall like it was never meant to be there. Your stomach lurches as you nearly drop the brick, not having prepared yourself for the weight of it. You set it down quietly on the mantle and look up at the hole in the wall. The sight of parchment peeking out wages a war of conflicting emotions inside of you.

On one hand, you’re elated that after three weeks in this court, just when you were about to give up, you’ve finally found something. But on the other, a part of you was hoping you would find nothing at all. The same part that has grown to care deeply for the male sleeping soundly behind you. The same part that dreads having to leave this place, even in all its cruelty.

You take one last look at the crimson-haired male behind you. He hasn’t moved an inch—in fact, he seems to have sunk deeper into the mattress. With a steadying breath, you rise on your tip toes again and pull out the stack of papers. Your hands are trembling so violently, you can hardly read the letters in front of you.

The first piece of parchment contains notes tracking Koshei’s possible whereabouts, his movements throughout the courts. You read through the scribbled handwriting several times, hoping to imprint it in your memory. Eris doesn’t seem to know more than Azriel has been able to surmise with his shadows, but you store it in your mind, just in case. The next is a series of correspondences with an herbalist in the Dawn Court discussing a variety of deadly poisons. Eris seems to be interested in purchasing an odorless one, undetectable even by his highly trained smokehounds. You presume this to be part of his plot to assassinate Beron, but still make note of the names of the herbs and ingredients to report back to Rhys. 

The third, and final, item in the stack is a neatly folded piece of parchment. You set the other papers down and slowly unfold it, careful not to make any noise. Your heart catches in your throat as you smooth it out and turn it around. There’s one word, written with a sharp precision that contrasts the messy scribbles in his other notes. 

Checkmate.

A stitch forms between your brows as you read the single word over and over again. Checkmate? Your tight grip on the paper loosens, blood rushing from your face. You whip around, and bile rises to your throat at the sight of an empty bed. 

Your fight or flight instinct kicks in and you make a run towards the door, but not quickly enough. You cry out as a force throws you against the wall, your head smacking hard against brick. Your legs give out and you crumple to the ground, but strong arms haul you from the floor and pin you against the wall. 

“Stupid little girl, you really thought you could outwit me?”

You squint through blurred vision, and the deadly look in Eris’s cold eyes makes you wish it had been a killing blow. Scorching flames wrap around your wrists, pinning them to the wall. A wave of nausea rolls through you at the unmistakable scent of your burning skin, but you grit your teeth to keep from crying for mercy.

“Answer me,” he seethes, flames crawling up your arms.

“You figured me out,” you hiss at the unrelenting pain, “What do you want me to say?”

Your eyes shoot wide open as he wraps his hand around your throat.

“I want you to look me in the eye, and repent,” he spits, “And maybe I’ll spare you.”

“I have nothing to repent,” you speak sharply, even with his hand wrapped tightly around your throat, “I meant everything I did. Everything I said.”

You gasp as he squeezes your windpipe, forcing a rush of blood to your ashen face, “You think me a fool?” he bellows, “You think I believe a word that comes out of that filthy mouth? You’re out of your depth, Little Bird.”

The nickname that once made you swoon suddenly holds a new meaning. You splutter as his grip tightens, black spots dancing in your vision. You barely register the fire wrapped around your wrists anymore as you feel yourself slowly slipping from consciousness. But before you go, you focus on his eyes once more.

The amber you so love is gone, and as you look into their void, you picture the sweetness of the honey that was once there. If this is your end, you wish to leave with that memory. You shut your eyes tight, and the fire around your wrist transforms into his gentle grip, holding your hands above your head as he makes love to you slowly. The pressure on your throat isn’t his crushing hold, but the words you always wanted to say and never had the chance to. 

You’re fading quickly, but before you go you open your eyes once more. And just when you feel the tips of your fingers going numb, you feel an unmistakable tug, deep inside your chest—a single, shining thread of gold tying him to you. 

“Mate,” you gasp through blue lips.

Suddenly, you can breathe again. The pressure on your throat ceases, the flaming binds on your wrists vanish, and you crumple to the ground in a heap. You cough and heave violently, but nothing comes out. You don’t dare look up from the dust-covered floor beneath you, and you tremble when you see Eris’s knees bend in your peripheral as he crouches down. He hooks a cold finger underneath your chin, yanking your head up to his.

Gone is the fiery anger in his eyes, and in its place, nothing at all. They’re empty—hauntingly so. His voice is level, void of emotion as he speaks.

“It’s time to run back to your master like a good little bitch. If you ever step foot into this court again, I’ll arrange for a long-awaited family reunion with your loving father.”

The shining thread of gold quivers as your heart splits in two. 

You barely register the second-degree burns on your wrists as you twist the silver ring off your thumb and blindly slide it onto his middle finger.

“Beron knows you’re up to something,” your voice is so scratchy it’s barely recognizable, “He keeps logs of your whereabouts in the second drawer of his desk.”

His hand drops from underneath your chin, and with one last look into those empty eyes, you use the little strength you have left to winnow away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You land in the House of Wind just as you left the little, ransack cabin—in a pathetic heap of sorrow. The golden thread pulls taut in protest, and you yank at the neckline of Eris’s shirt—as if doing so will snap that damned string apart. Uneven breaths leave your lips as you rip the fabric down the middle so you can claw at your bare chest. You need to get it out, need to the break the thread, need to not feel him.

Tears finally spring to your eyes, and sobs wrack your body as you pull, kick, scratch, anything to get rid of it. You barely register the panicked voices around you, the darkness enveloping you as Azriel wraps his wings around you to shield your nude form. You can only see clouded tears. You can only hear your pounding heart. And you can only feel that stupid fucking thread.

 Hands wrap around your arms, pulling them from your chest. You kick your legs, trying desperately to free yourself from the vice-like grip. 

“Get Madja. Now,” Rhys’s stern voice sounds like its miles away.

You yank your arms free and keep scratching at your bloodied chest, but just as quickly as the grip was gone, it’s back again.

“I need it out. Get it out. Please. Cut it, break it, burn it, I don’t care. I can’t feel him,” you don’t recognize your hoarse voice as you blubber through sobs.

 Another pair of arms wrap around your ankles, halting your thrashing legs. More hands join, holding the ripped tunic closed over your chest. When another pair of hands holds your head steady, you think you might implode.

Get off, stop touching me, leave me alone, you scream, but nothing comes out. Are you drowning? You can feel the water rushing, flooding your lungs as you desperately try to swim to surface. This must be Death, coming to save you from your miserable existence.

Suddenly, a flash of blinding light fills the air, and you can breathe again. The tears stop, and with your vision clear, you look around the room to assess the damage left in the wake of your storm.

Azriel, Rhys, Feyre, and Madja stand wide-eyed on the opposite end of the room, your outburst having sent them flying backwards. You stare back, eyes cloudy in an almost dream-like state. It feels like floating—your post-breakdown haze. You don’t feel the bond tugging in your chest. You don’t feel anything at all, really.

“Y/N,” Feyre’s tone is soft, like coaxing a child, “You’re hurt. Madja needs to take a look at your wounds.”

You shake your head and croak, “I’m fine.”

“Your hands are burned to crisps and there’s blood all over your head,” Rhys deadpans, earning an elbow in the ribs from his mate.

You raise a hand to the back of your head and feel something wet and sticky. You pull it back to see scarlet red coating your fingertips. A humorless laugh passes through your lips at the sight. You felt the burning on your wrists, the crushing of your throat. But the cracking of your head seemed to go undetected—you suppose you really do have a hard head, as Cassian always says. Your lips stretch into a wide, sinister grin, and your humorless chuckle transforms into a manic laugh. You must look like a madman, driven to the brink of sanity. 

Your laughter halts abruptly and the grin falls from your face as Azriel takes a step forward. You simply stare at him, no emotion in your big, doe eyes. He takes another step forward, and when you make no move to stop him, he continues approaching you like one would a wild, rabid animal.

You don’t protest this time as he crouches down in front of you and unfurls his wings, concealing your body once again. His hazel eyes search yours desperately for some sort of feeling—but there’s nothing there.

“Can I take you somewhere more private for Madja to take a look at you?” he whispers.

The pity in his eyes leaves a sour taste in your mouth. But you don’t protest—nor do you respond. He takes your silence as permission and moves slowly again as he wraps an arm underneath your knees and behind your back. You simply stare up at the ceiling as he rises to his full height with you limp in his arms. Azriel’s shadows dance frantically around him, his wings still curled around your exposed form, as he walks you towards the door of the living room.

You can hear Feyre and Rhys mumbling amongst themselves, but choose to block them out. You can see Azriel’s shadows swirling in your peripheral, checking on your wounds before reporting back to their master. But you don’t so much as blink an eye. You continue staring blankly at the ceiling, even when he sets you down. You let him remove the tattered tunic and wrap a silk night robe over your nude frame. You don’t so much as twitch when he places a soft kiss to your head before leaving you to Madja. 

Madja works quickly, but thoroughly, sensing your itching desire to leave. She asks many questions, to which you either shake your head, nod, or shrug your shoulders. The healer explains what kind of care each of your wounds will require—you think you remember her saying something about a concussion. You all but run out of the room the moment she finishes with you, but regret your decision instantly when you swing the door open.

Big, brown eyes stare back at you. 

You can’t look at her right now. If you look at her, let alone speak to her, then you might feel again. And you can’t risk feeling.

So, you don’t stop. You brush past Mor, the hurt in her identical eyes not registering in your mind. She reaches out to wrap a hand around your wrist but pauses at the layers of bandages covering them. The sound of her protests is muffled by the grain of your haze as you continue down the hallway. You can feel them all staring, but you look at no one, and they leave you be. 

Your room is exactly how you left it: crumpled sheets, books strewn about, and a crackling hearth. But you’re not the same person you were three weeks ago. And you can’t look into that damn fire without losing it all over again.

You sit on the edge of your bed, as far away as possible from the fireplace. Even on the opposite side of the room, you can hear the popping embers, feel the warming rays. You shut your eyes tight, bounce your leg, anything to distract. But it’s still there, taunting. You can’t stay here, in this room. You can’t stay in this house, for that matter—not when everything is a bitter reminder of who you used to be, of what you’ve lost. 

Stone-faced, you rise from the unmade bed and grab a bag from the depths of your closet. You mindlessly throw in a mess of clothes, the rainy-day cash you’ve saved up, and a couple of necessities. You grab a piece of parchment from your desk and scribble a note.

Need to leave for a while. I’ll be back—not sure when. Don’t worry about me.

Simple, but effective. You don’t even recognize your own handwriting as you set the pen down beside the note. The crackling embers of the fire seem to be growing louder by the second, so you hastily grab your bag.

You shut your eyes tightly and will the world around you to twist and fold. You don’t have any particular destination in mind. You’re not sure where you’ll end up—hopefully somewhere far away from here. And as the air contracts around you, you don’t dare look back at the place that once felt like home.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1 @paliketerson @ktz-bb @l-adynesta

due to a bug, tumblr only lets me mention the first five people in my taglist :( I'm hoping the issue will be resolved at some point soon!

[your-friendly-sociopath]

I've been thinking recently about a story I made a while back about yandere alastor while he was alive, and apparently ppl liked it so I've decided to make a part two of that, but it's shortly after both alastor and his darling (reader obv) are dead

Also bc alastor is hot and I need more

Part one here

His Darling Doe, Pt 2

After Alastor had "saved" you in the alleyway, he never let you leave the cabin

For the rest of your (admittedly short) life, he had forced you into the role of the meek and helpless housewife

It wasn't so bad, he was a gentleman and always made sure you had everything you could want

Except your freedom of course

The night alastor died you thought you were finally free

But nope

Turns out that when the cops found out he was the killer, they thought you were an accomplice and had you sentenced to death

One moment you were on an electric chair, the next you were falling from the sky

As you were falling you heard a loud screech, and could see the devastated look coming from a glowing creature above

It looked like an angel

The next thing you noticed was a glowing green chain dragging you down (bc the chain scene was so hrrrgh)

And the last thing you noticed was two small wings attached to your back, you watched as the once snowy white color became corrupted by black and green -the same shade of green as the chain- then you hit the ground and blacked out

Again you woke up, face smushed against the weirdly warm cement

Confused, you slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, and looked around trying to make sense of your surroundings

Right as you finally pulled yourself to your feet (or hooves, since ur a deer demon cause I say so) you heard a very loud, very staticy, and very family voice

A voice you had come to both dread and love while alive

"Ah, there are my dear. I was starting to think that my spells hadn't worked!"

Your eyes widened in horror as you turned to face the man you had once loved, your now discolored wings subconsciously wrapping around you in an attempt to comfort you

"No... not you" you whispered

Alastor tilted his head in confusion

" Whatever do you mean by that, my darling doe? I'd have thought you would be absolutely ecstatic to see me!"

You scowled at him and took a step back, to which he responded by smiling wider and stepping forward

"Come now my dear, you can't really be upset still, everything I did was to keep you safe."

Your ears (you hadn't noticed you deer ears in your hair until they had just moved, surprising you) flattened in irritation as your wings flared out in anger

"You kept me locked up in that God forsaken cabin," you hissed "trapped there to be nothing more than a trophy for you."

Alastor's eyes narrowed, he had known that you didn't like being kept in the house, but he couldn't just let you out!

Anything could've happened to you, he was simply protecting you!

Alastor decided to close the distance between you two, and quickly strided over to you, pushing you against the wall he trapped you in a passionate kiss

Despite your anger, you couldn't help but melt into the kiss, having missed him despite being separated for just under a month

You two stayed like that for a few minutes, relishing in each other's presence

When you finally came back to your senses, you shoved him away and ran

Distantly, you heard a record scratch as alastor took a moment to realize what you just did

Then he snarled, his smile growing impossibly wide as he shifted into his full demon form

You rushed through crowds of demons, a few of them snarling at you and threatening you, others catcalling

Now, despite being in hell for only a few weeks, alastor had already set a reputation as demon not to fuck with

So as you rushed through the crowds with a creepy ass deer demon chasing you, many knew not to interfere

Alastor reached out a long clawed hand, just barely brushing your arm

Panicked, you glanced back and saw alastor, looking like a fucking monster

You shrieked in terror, and out of instinct, your wings opened up and launched you into the sky

You heard alastor let out an unearthly, furious scream

You let yourself hope, for a brief moment, that you had escaped

Then the same glowing chain appeared around your neck, a d yanked you back down to the ground

You crashed into the broad chest of alastor, still in his demon form, as he whispered in your ear

"A valiant effort, my darling, but you forget. You couldn't escape me while alive, so what makes you think you can escape me now.." he growled "..now that I'm so much stronger."

"You can't escape me.. you are mine~"

He chuckled lowly at your continued struggling, watching as you finally went limp in his hold when he yanked on your chain

"Come along now, pet, it's time we went home"

The hand not holding the chain snaked around your waist, bringing you flush against his body

Everything went dark for brief moment, before the both of you appeared in front of a cabin

Your cabin

The one that you now considered a prison

You ears flattened once again, this time in despair as tears started to flow

You weren't ever going to escape now

He was much to powerful for anyone to go against

Alastor buried his face in your soft hair, nhaling deeply before walking you up to the front door, slowly turning back to normal from his demon form

"Ah, welcome home, my doe~"

Hehehehehehe

Finished another

Hot deer daddy

[specialagentlokitty]

Aizawa x student!reader - a handful of trouble

Hiya I have a request for aizawa if that's alright. Maybe like Aizawa × student reader where R always tries to sneak out after curfew and he knows that so he just catches them again before they get out of the building with his scarf? - Anon💜

Looking at your phone, you grinned as you stuffed it into your pocket, zipping it up, and you made your way to the balcony of your room.

Jumping on the railing, you flexed your wings a couple of times to stretch them, then you jumped down.

“Nice try.”

You were tangled in Aizawa’s capture scarf, dangling from the side of the building.

“Busted…” you mumbled.

“Yup, and in a world of trouble.”

Aizawa lowered you down to the ground, keeping you in the scarf while All Might stood in front of you with his arms crossed.

Aizawa let you go, and you grinned up at All Might, planting your hands into the grass behind you.

“Double busted huh?”

“You know this is for your own safety.”

“Come on! It’s so boring!” You whined.

Aizawa walked back over, tangling you back into his scarf, making sure you couldn’t fly away.

He dragged you behind him.

“Come on Aizawa, is that really necessary?” All Might sighed.

“Yes! The kid won’t stay still long enough if I don’t! You try bringing them back inside one night!” He huffed.

You grinned proudly, looking up at both your teachers as you were lifted up, feet placed on the floor so you could get up the steps.

You waddled into the building, and sat down on the floor.

Aizawa walked over, and he stood in front of you with his arms crossed.

“Do I seriously have to put child locks and bars on the damn windows?” He snapped.

You rocked back and forth, trying to wiggle free from your captivity.

“Let me be free Mr Aizawa!”

“No! Why do you insist on breaking out every night?!”

“Let me be free!”

“No!”

Mr Aizawa sighed.

“I’m giving you a week of detention, and your on house arrest for two days!”

You grinned proudly.

“Freedom!”

“I’m going to be here with you so don’t even think about it!” He scolded.

You let out a groan of annoyance, and you threw yourself again the floor with a heavy thud.

“Don’t ignore me!”

You grinned proudly, staring up at the ceiling.

Aizawa sighed again, letting you go.

“Go back to your room, and you better not try sneak out again.”

You jumped up, beating your wings a couple of times to steady yourself before landing in the ground, and you grinned at your home room teacher.

You ran back to your room.

You just had to wait longer this time.

So you did, reading, studying, trying to wait until it was later in the night, and then you opened your balcony door.

You didn’t wait this time, you flung yourself out of the window and took straight into the skies with a big grin.

There was no reason why you broke out most nights, you just enjoyed the late night flights over the city.

You looked down at the city lights, and you stopped in one spot, wings keeping you in place there as you looked around.

You looked at the lights below, then looked up at the stars above.

It was almost like looking at the reflection in a lake, it was peaceful how they matched.

You turned around, looking up at the night sky, and you pulled out your phone to take a few photos.

While you were taking phones your phone started to ring, and you answered it, sticking it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Seriously?! Again?! Where are you?!”

You held the phone away from your ear and let out a loud laugh.

“You’ll never find me Mr Aizawa!”

“I have Hawks looking for you! You’re in so much trouble (Y/N)!”

You snickered a little bit, going back to flying around, getting a little higher.

“I’m free!”

“You’re breaking curfew!”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’ll be back before the morning!”

“(Y/N) get back here now!”

“Bye!”

You hung up, turning your phone off and you stuffed it into your pocket with a grin.

You spotted the red winged hero not far ahead of you, and you gave him a little salute as you folded your wings against your back.

“Get back here you little rebel!”

You dived straight down, lightening building up around your wings, and in a flash you were gone.

A cool trick you had was when you went fast enough you could build up electricity, then using that you could teleport into another location as long as you knew where it was.

You appeared in front of the dorms, and you came crashing to a stop, tripping over and stumbling over your own two feet, falling to the ground.

“(Y/N)!”

Aizawa caught you in his scarf and pulled you into the dorm.

“You’re in a world of trouble!”

You threw yourself to the ground as he began to shout at you, and then he sighed, walking over to look down at you.

“If you keep this up you’re risking your studies to be a hero.”

You huffed a little.

“Look, I get your restless, but you have to quit this now, before I seriously consider having to expel you.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You want to test that theory?!” He snapped.

You huffed again, sitting up, folding your wings against your back.

“You’re on house arrest for two weeks, someone will be in your work by for you, you’ll be catching up on chores.”

“Boring!”

“Well stop breaking out! This isn’t a prison!”

“Then why can’t I be free?!”

“Because it’s not safe!”

Aizawa crossed his arms.

“If you stay in the dorm for a month like you’re supposed to I’ll consider asking hawks if he can take you on a flight with him every so often.”

Your face lit up.

“Seriously?!”

“You need to follow the rules for a month (Y/N). Then I’ll think about it.”

You jumped up, wings puffing up a little bit with excitement.

“Okay!”

“Good, now go to your room and stay there.”

You nodded your head and ran off.

Aizawa sighed, truth be told he was already arranging something like that for you, you clearly had a lot of energy, you needed to fly to burn that energy you had.

Aizawa came to check on you a few times, and just like you said you actually stayed in your room this time

[munsons-hellfire]

Forever Together 1 | Poly!Bat Boys

SUMMARY: You didn't think you'd find a mate, let alone three mates. Over the course of the decades it snaps for them first, then snaps for you one at a time until the worst possible thing could every happen. With truths revealed you can finally have the happiness you had always deserved.

PAIRINGS: Bat Boys x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Wing clipping (mentioned at the beginning in detail, and mentioned somewhat through out the one shot), mentions of cheating (reader's mother), mentions of abuse (reader's father and brothers), angst, fluff, no smut.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly I feel as though in some parts they might be rushed. I didn't entirely follow the books except for the ending of the third one and I did change the plot line as the bat boys are reader's mate. Feyre has a different mate, and if you'd like more to this story Nesta would be mated to someone else. I have more ideas for this storyline in particular, so let me know if you'd like to see more. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

WORD COUNT: 6.2K Words

Pain. Pain was all you could feel. Blood was what you could smell. Laughter coming from your father and brothers is all you could hear. You didn’t know how you had reached this point. You were leaving for Velaris to see the males you considered family more than your own family. You had your bags in hand and were getting ready to take off when they had attacked you. Your brothers had tackled you down to the ground and held onto you while your father took your wings and clipped them from your body.

You didn’t know you could feel so much pain like you did as they were being cut off. They had taken away the most important thing in your life, and they had all laughed while they did it. They didn’t give you a reason they just did. After taking your wings this disappeared and left you on the outskirts of their camp to die. Moans of pain left your throat as tears cascaded down your cheeks. Your back was on fire, as rain droplets hit the open wounds. Your wet hair covered your face, and your body was covered in mud with bruises forming around your wrist and on your knees.

You rested your forehead against the ground as you continued to cry at the loss of your wings. You knew that Rhys, Cass, and Az were probably worried when you hadn’t showed up. They were your best friends and had been since you had met them before Rhysand had become High Lord. You were lucky to find them when you did, they had given you a second chance to have a family that cared about you. Morrigan had easily become one of your closest friends. Amren didn’t warm up to you at first but she eventually pulled around.

Rhysand had asked that you permanently move to Velaris with them, you had agreed simply because you were afraid of losing your wings. You just wished you had left sooner when the offer left his lips. Now they were gone and you would never be able to feel the wind in your hair as you flew through the sky. You’d never be able to feel the freedom it gave you anymore. It was taken from you, and those males you had called father and brothers had taken from you. Azriel had been flying back to Velaris after a mission when Rhys had spoken to him.

“Y/N hasn’t shown up. Can you find her and bring her home?” Rhys asked the Shadowsinger.

“I’ll bring her home, Rhys.” Azriel adjusted course and headed towards Illyria, towards your camp.

When Azriel changed his course a wave of pain rushed through him and he almost crashed into a tree. He could feel your panic, and he was certain that Rhysand and Cassian could feel it too. Maybe that was why Rhys had spoken to him and asked to look for you. When he got closer he could smell your blood. He knew what had happened almost instantly. He regretted not fighting harder to bring you home weeks ago. The male collapsed to his knees beside you, his scarred hand reaching out to you and moving your wet away from your face.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” He questioned, moving to feel for a pulse.

You didn’t answer, but he sighed when he felt a pulse. It was weak but there. His shadows were just as panicked as he was. Very gently Azriel picked you up from the mud and held onto your body. Azriel called to Rhysand as he moved with his shadows. When he arrived in Velaris he took off to the House of Wind. When he landed outside the house they were all waiting. Fear had been etched into each of their faces as they all took you in. The blood had somewhat clotted but in some areas it was still gliding down your back. Mor took in your state, your face pale from the bloodloss.

“What happened?” Was all the female had managed to get out. Anger had made its way onto Rhysand and Cassian’s face as they stared at them.

“I don’t know. I think she was attacked, they clipped her wings.” Azriel explained, a sob ran through your throat at the words that left his mouth. You clung onto Azriel tighter. But it wasn’t enough, you felt yourself slipping, the voices around you growing distant. Everything disappeared, you were alone in complete darkness. But one thing remained that you held onto, a golden string that tied you to three males.

Cassian was pacing the hallway, Rhys and Azriel sat next to each other watching the male. Mor and Amren sat in the living room, waiting. Madja and a few other healers were in the room working on your back. Cassian stopped moving when your screams ripped through his ears. It pained him to not be in there with you.

“Do you know who did it?” Cassian finally asked, closing his eyes fighting the urge to run into the room to be with you.

“No.” Azriel’s jaw clenched. “Though I have a feeling her family was responsible. Something happened for them to act the way that they did. Attacking her at night when she’s set to leave knowing she’d never return.” Azriel added.

“I want the entire family brought to Hewn City and locked up until we can figure out what to do with them. I don’t care who did this, they will pay for taking away the one thing that meant the most to her.” Rhysand ordered sharing a look with his Spymaster and his General.

“I can go get them right now and lock them up until we’re ready to talk to them.” Azriel said, though he didn’t want to leave you. Hearing your screams of agony was killing him just as much as it had been Rhys and Cass. He needed something to distract him until Madja and the other healers had done what they could. Rhys gave a simple nod of his head.

Before Azriel could leave another scream escaped your lips, he allowed a shadow to leave him and stay in the room with you. The shadowsinger watched as it slipped under the door. It found a spot on your neck, helping you cool down. With that Azriel disappeared moving into the shadows to find the ones that had taken your wings for their own sick game. Though he had no doubt in his mind that your father was getting ready to place them on the mantle in your home as a prize.

“We can’t tell her about the bond, not now anyway.” Cassian mumbled as he sat down next to his High Lord.

Rhysand turned, his violet eyes searching hazel eyes. The mating bond had snapped for them all at once a few weeks ago when they were with you. They had shown up to the war camp and taken you to the cabin where Mor and Amren already were. It had been such a fun time for you and all of them. To be able to spend free time without the fear of your father looming over you. You were completely wasted alongside Mor, the two of you dancing and singing not a car in the world. And as the three males stared up at you with your arms wrapped around Mor laughter falling from your lips that golden string connected the three males to you and to each other.

The confusion was clear as day when it happened, and you were completely oblivious to it. In the coming days after discovering the bond the three males had managed to work through what they felt, they were better now because of it. But they wanted you to know, they didn’t want to force the bond, but keeping it from you would only anger you so they agreed to tell you when you had come home to them. Rhysand reached out for Cassian’s hand and held it tightly in his.

“We’ll tell her after she gets through this. She’s going to need all of us, Mor and Amren included.” Cassian gave a nod of his head. The affection that each male received from each other since the bond had snapped was still very new, however it was a welcome surprise. Finally the doors opened and Madja stepped out. Her eyes landed on the High Lord and the General.

“How is she?” Cassian was the first to ask the question, needing to break the silence both between them and in his mind.

“She’ll pull through. Though she’ll be in pain for a few days, it’s best for her to rest while the scars heal. She’s also asking for you two and the spymaster.” Madja explained, looking between the two males.

“Az, get back here now.” Rhysand’s words were firm but an order. Luckily he had your parents and brothers locked in cells in Hewn City. They would most likely be waiting a few days in the cells.

“I’m on my way.” Was all he said.

Rhysand watched Madja and the other healers disappear, leaving them in the hallway. He could hear Madja talking to Mor and Amren, most likely explaining what she had explained to Rhysand and Cassian. The two males finally walked in, the door closed behind them. You were in the center of the bed, laying on your stomach. Your eyes were closed, sweat was falling down your forehead. Bandages covered your back where your wings had once been. They moved closer to the bed but stopped.

Azriel appeared in the corner of the room, his shadows surrounding him, talking to him, “safe”. They’d said, and you were and you would be from now on. Finally you opened your eyes and stared at the three males that stood before you. Sorrow rested in their eyes as they continued to stare at you. They could feel your pain through the bond, feel how much it  was killing you to not feel them on your back anymore. These next few months were going to be hell but you were thankful to have these three males by your side.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

Rhysand stood in a dark room with Cassian and Azriel behind him. The High Lord was staring down at your father. He had talked to your mother and brothers but none of them had said an ounce of anything. A few days after you had gotten enough sleep and had healed somewhat Rhys had brought up the topic of what to do with your family. You had given the decision to the male considering you could never look at any of them again. So here they were trying to get to the bottom of why your wings had been completely clipped from your body.

“Why did you do it?” Rhys’ voice was powerful as the question swam around the dark room.

The male glared at Rhysand, then his eyes fell onto Cassian and Azriel. Finally after hours of asking the same question the male snapped and shared his true intentions behind your wing clipping.

“Because she is a bastard child, never should she have been born. But who was I to deny my wife another babe? I should’ve seen it though. She looks nothing like me.” His voice was cold and his eyes were dark. This information that he had discovered was something the three males needed to know without realizing it.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian urged, taking a step forward but still holding his ground behind Rhysand.

“The female that you consider a friend, she isn’t my daughter. She belongs to that High Lord in the Day Court. According to my wife she had gotten pregnant when she went to visit some friends in the Day Court.” The male paused clenching his fist as he thought about it. “I should’ve picked up on it sooner.”

Azriel and Cassian had shocked expressions on their faces as the words ran through their pointed ears. They quickly put on a neutral mask to hide the shock.

“You’re saying that Y/N is the princess of Helion?” Rhysand asked, trying not to let his voice falter.

“Unfortunately.”

“Why did you take her wings from her?” Azriel asked.

“She didn’t deserve those wings. She didn’t deserve to have any trace of those wings. That female got what was coming to her. I only wished I had ended her life that night instead of taking her wings from her.” He seethed, staring at the males.

Rhysand leaned forward and lifted his hand to the male’s head and slammed it into the table, breaking his nose. “You took away the only thing that meant everything to her you damned bastard.” Cassian and Azriel were quick to pull their High Lord from the male and out of the room. When they were no longer in the room the two males let go of Rhysand. They stared at him intently as his emotions flew down the bridge between them.

“What are we going to do with them?” Cassian was the first to break the silence between them.

“They’ll stay locked up. And we’re telling Y/N everything. She deserves to know the truth about her father, about who he actually is. But not today. Let her rest today. We’ll tell her in a few days.” Cassian and Azriel gave a nod to Rhysand.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

They had done just that, allowing you to take in the new information of who your real father was. You had taken the news better than they thought you would. Somewhere deep down you had always known that the male that raised you wasn’t your father. And now there was a chance for you to have a relationship with your biological father. In the days since you had started your recovery they had decided to keep the mating bond from you just until you had healed back to full strength.

It would see that fate would have other plans for the four of you. A few days after your recovery had started Rhysand had left for a party. He had received an invite from Amarantha herself. You had tried to get Rhys to stay with you and the others, you needed him more than ever (though you still weren’t sure why). But his duty as High Lord rose above, he promised you, Cassian, and Azriel that he’d be back before they knew it. He made it clear to Cassian and Azriel that they’d discuss the mating bond with you when he got back as he no longer could keep it hidden and honestly neither could they.

When Rhys had been locked up Under the Mountain and you all had been locked in, Velaris, not able to leave. Things changed. The bond had snapped into place for you with only one of them. It had snapped one day when you were out on the roof training with Cassian, he had knocked you down and held you down to the mats staring into your eyes. The wind had been knocked right out of you when you looked back up at the General. That was when it all came out to you, the truth. Azriel stood near the two of you.

“How long?” You asked, still staring at Cassian.

“We’ve known since the Cabin. It snapped for the three of us at the same time when you were dancing with Mor in the living room by the fire.” Cassian explained as he moved back from you allowing you room to breathe and process the information.

“You’ve all known I was your mate since before my wings were taken and you didn’t say anything?” You looked between Cassian and Azriel, you still only felt the bond between you and Cassian but it was strong. They both gave a small nod.

“We were going to tell you that night, the night I found you in the rain bleeding, crying out at the loss of your wings. But you were so broken, and having found out that Helion was your father we couldn’t tell you. We all felt that it was too much stress to have you under and we didn’t want to put you under the pressure of the mating bond. Rhys said we would tell you when he came home from the party but now who knows what’ll happen.” Azriel said.

You could see the pain in both of their eyes and while you were missing Rhys more than anything right now. You could see just how much they missed Rhys because they had felt the bond snap for them, they were connected to each other and it was only now that one of them had snapped for you. It was just Cassian and not Azriel and Rhysand. Your heart ached just thinking about it. About when the bond would snap for you. But right now you need time to clear your head.

“I need time to process this.” You breathed out, dropping your head into your hands. “I only felt the bond between Cass and I snap.” You paused looking up at Az. “I don’t doubt that all three of you are my mates, that we are mates for each other. I will admit that the Cauldron had blessed us with this mating bond. But I know that you and Rhys will snap for me when the time is right. But for now I need time to process.”

“You will have it, we’ll give you as much time as you need.” Cassian exhaled.

“We’ll wait however long it takes.” Azriel added.

Later that day you had found yourself in the kitchen making dinner for everyone. Mor and Amren were in the living room with Cassian and Azriel. You had found that cooking had helped you find some semblance of peace. It cleared your mind and allowed you to think properly. What you hadn’t expected was to feel the return of something you had missed for so long. You stopped what you were doing walking into the living room and staring towards the door.

Mor noticed you first, she stood from the couch and walked over to you. She grasped a hold of your hand as tears started to fall from your face. Rhysand stood there near the front door, a male behind him. Rhys’ eyes were panicked as he looked for each mate. Mor finally turned to see what you had been looking at.

“Rhys.” You breathed out. Cassian and Azriel had already been staring at their mate. You felt the tug of the bond through Cassian, his happiness flowing through it. You left Mor’s side and ran to him, colliding into his body and hugging him tightly. He hesitated hugging you back, something you, Cassian and Azriel had picked up on. But then your thoughts washed away when he hugged you back. Then you took in the male that stood behind Rhys, when you pulled away from him he noticed the confused look on his face.

“This is Ryder, he is my friend. Feyre is his mate, the one who saved all of us. He was kicked out of his court because he attended the party with his High Lord.” Rhysand started to explain.

“It was more like I went against the wishes of Beron. I couldn’t stand the male anymore.” He said, looking at the ones that stared at him.

“Welcome, I was just finishing setting dinner out, please join us.” You said softly. Rhys found his heart skipping a beat at your kindness towards someone you had just met. You walked away from them, Mor followed behind to help bring the food out. When you disappeared, and Ryder walked with Amren over to the table, Rhysand's eyes found Cassian and Azriel staring at him.

“We have a lot to discuss but not tonight.” Rhysand said, the two gave a nod of understanding.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

In the months since Rhys had been freed a war had been looming over everyone’s heads. Feyre Archeron had after a few months had officially joined the Night Court leaving Tamlin behind. Things were changing and you could feel it. But then it happened, you were on the ground near Rhysand tears spilling out of your eyes. Cassian and Azriel were both hurt and the Feyre’s sister’s had been forced into the Cauldron.

But you couldn’t focus on anything else, not when the bond for you and Azriel had finally snapped into place. You were now tied to Cassian and Azriel, but now you might lose both of them. A sob escaped your lips. You looked up as the Hybern king walked towards you. He pushed Rhysand out of the way and grabbed a hold of your chin lifting it towards his face.

“What a surprise? Mated to three males, but only two have snapped into place. Two of whom might die.” His words ran around the room and shock fell onto some faces.

“You don’t know anything, bastard.” You spat, choosing at that moment to put yourself together. This had been why Rhys had made you High Lady. He knew that you had known about the mating bond and while you had fully accepted it you had still been waiting for it to snap between you and Azriel and you and Rhysand. The High Lord knew you would make a wonderful High Lady as his equal.

“Don’t I?” He taunted. “Your wings were taken from you because your father discovered that you were the princess of the High Lord over in Day Court. You're mated to three males. You little shining star are easy to read. Your face gives away everything, and so does your father.” Your heart stopped beating as you looked at the male that still held onto your chin.

“What are you talking about?” The confusion was evident in your voice.

“Well someone let go of your brothers and parents when Rhysand was trapped in the Mountain. And let's just say they joined my army. Though I can’t say the same for your mother. She put up a fight but it was easy for my niece and nephew to squash her brain like it was nothing. She was given a worthless death.”

“No.” Was all you could manage to say. You could feel something running through your body but nothing could escape. You just kneeled there not believing that your mother had been taken from this world. The Hybern King had been hoping that some of your power from your true father might escape at the mention of your mothers death but nothing happened.

“I guess your mother wasn’t important. Maybe I should kill the shadowsinger. Or how about the general since he was the first to snap for you. Maybe he’d be the one to bring forth your power.”

You moved your hand behind your back as you lifted your face glaring at the male before you. Rhysand, Feyre and Ryder watched and pulled a small dagger out of hiding. Slowly you stood from the floor to better match up to him.

“You will not lay a hand on any of my mates because if you do, I will make sure you die a slow and painful death.” As those words left your mouth you pulled your hand back and managed to throw the blade into the male’s chest. He roared back in pain and it had been enough of a scene for everyone to make it out. Rhysand wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you with him.

Your eyes found Feyre and she gave a nod to you. This plan had been exactly what the three of you had discussed. Minus the injuries to Cassian and Azriel. Upon winnowing back to Velaris you collapsed to the ground finally breaking at the loss of your mother. You couldn’t do it in front of them, you know they were in the shadows watching. And you couldn’t give them that satisfaction. Rhys wrapped himself around you and held tightly as you sobbed into his chest.

“She’s gone.” She whispered, another sob leaving your mouth.

Rhys didn’t say anything, he just held onto you while the others made themselves useful making sure Madja was helping Cassian and Azriel. You pulled back and looked into Rhys’ violet eyes.

“I know the war is coming. I can’t lose any of you, I won’t allow it to happen.” Your lower lip quivered.

“Nothing will happen.” But you and Rhys knew that it was inevitable. That someone would die.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You stood next to your father, Helion. He had come to see you before the battle started. As he looked at you, he could see the glimpse of your mother on your face.

“Did you love her?” You asked, staring into his golden eyes.

“Your mother was one of my many lovers when she’d come to visit my Court. But she held a special place in my heart. And even though she’s no longer here with us there’s a piece of her in you.”

Helion paused as you processed his words. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood not far off from you and Helion. They could hear the conversation between you two.

“When this is over I’d like to get to know my daughter more. Only if you are okay with that, my little sunshine.” A smile graced your lips as you stared at the make you’d be happy to call your father.

“I’d be happy to do that. I’d like to get to know my real father. I’d like to know what I could’ve had with you in your Court.”

“As my first born you would be High Lady when I step down.”

“No.” The word was stern as it came out of your mouth. You couldn’t take that duty over not only because you were already High Lady of the Night Court, but because you knew Helion had a son as well. You had been told by Feyre and Ryder that Lucien was in fact the prince of the Day Court, that meant that you had a half brother. “I am already High Lady and I do not plan to step down from that position for a long time.”

“Very well.” Helion looked back at the three males that were -almost- your mates. “Do they treat you well?”

You turned to follow his gaze, the males looked away pretending to do something, to act like they weren’t listening in on your conversation when you knew very well that they were. You released a laugh, it had caught their pointed ears and the three males gazed back over to you. The love was ever so clear in each of their eyes, and while the bond might not have snapped for you with Rhys yet; but you knew one thing for certain. You were going to accept the bond with all three of them. You turned back to Helion as he placed his amber eyes on you.

“Even before I knew that we were mates I knew that I had loved each of them for different reasons. And to know that we are mates had heightened that love. I’d go out onto that battlefield and die for them if it meant a better tomorrow and I knew that they’d do the same for me. I may have lost my wings but one way or another they saved me in every way they could.”

“That’s wonderful news my little sunshine. I may not have been part of your life, I wish I could’ve been because I would’ve taken you and your mother away before they ever took your wings from you.”

“I wouldn’t change any of the things that have happened to me. I may not have liked them at the time it happened and what happened with my wings, it was painful to go through but I pulled through. I wish Rhys had been there for my recovery but he was going through worse at the time and so were you. I have learned to move through my trauma and it is because of my mates that I have healed.”

The three males behind you had the biggest smiles on their lips as you explained all of this to your father. “Maybe when you come over to the Day Court to visit we can figure out if you have my shape-shifting ability, if you do then you might be able to shift Illyrian wings onto your back once more and fly through the sky again.”

Your heart beat fast against your chest, it felt like it was going to break through at the mention of it. Cassian stepped forward, joining in on the conversation.

“She could do that?” He asked, his hazel eyes switching to Helion then back to you.

“It’s possible. If Feyre has the ability to shift Illyrian wings on her back then I have no doubt that Y/N could too.” Your knees were going to buckle, you could feel it so you made quick movement and pulled your father into a hug. The first of many for sure. He was shocked at first but eventually he hugged you back. “Now I must go ready my army. I’ll see you out there.”

You watched silently as your father winnowed away, you turned towards the three males. They came over to you gathering around in a circle. You grabbed a hold of Rhys hand, and Cassian’s hand. Azriel stood across from you holding onto Cassian’s and Rhys as well. You looked at each of them taking in this moment before your friends would join.

“I love you all, and I need you to know that before this battle. If one of us doesn’t make it…” You closed your eyes trying to hold back your tears. “I couldn’t go onto that battlefield not admitting to you all that I love you. Regardless of the mating bond not yet snapping for me and Rhys, I love you.”

“We love you too, darling Y/N.” Rhys said, squeezing your hand tightly. You smiled at him as the others joined in the circle and more words were spoken.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

The battle had raged on, you were separated from Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Blood, mud, and grim covered your body and you knew you’d need a bath after this was over. The bond was over the place causing you to panic. You could feel strings tying you to three males, tying you to Azriel, Cassian, and finally Rhysand. A little laugh left your mouth as you threw your sword into one of the Hybern men.

But it didn’t last, something was wrong you could feel it. You knew Cassian had been injured, Rhys had told you via thoughts. But this was Rhys, you could feel something wrong. Especially when his voice came in through your mind and sure enough Cassian and Azriel as well, he was using the bond between the four of you.

“I love you all.” He whispered in your minds. “I love you, more than anything.”

Helion was suddenly next to you, arms wrapping around you he winnowed to where Rhys had been with Feyre. You let go of your father running over to your mate sliding down on your knees.

“He offered his power to allow me to repair the Cauldron.” Feyre’s voice was running through your ears but you couldn’t hear it because you couldn’t feel Rhys, seconds later Az and Cass were there. Tears in their eyes as they looked down at their dead mate.

“No. No. No. Rhys, come back to me, come back to us. Please, we can’t lose you.” You cried out pulling the male into your body. You couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel him through the bond, couldn't feel a heartbeat. He was gone, and this was the worst feeling in the world for you, for Azriel, and for Cassian. The two were on their knees watching you cry over Rhys. Tarquin and Helion kneeled down next to you.

“He’s gone, Y/N.” Helion said first, a sob followed after the words left his mouth. You looked at the two High Lord’s as they stared at you.

“No.” You said, shaking your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Tarquin spoke.

You looked back at Rhysand as those words broke you. You screamed at the top of your lungs, as loud as you could. Power flowed through your body, it lit up covering every inch of you as you screamed for the loss of a mate. Tarquin and Helion backed away from you, the power pushed out of your body and turned into an orb shooting to the sky before bursting into a firework. You rested your forehead on his. Finally Azriel moved over to you, as did Cassian despite his injury. The two tried to pull you from Rhysand so they could hold onto you but you refused.

“Bring him back.” You shouted, looking at the lords around you. This was not ending, this was not meant to be the ending he got. Not when you had finally felt the bond between you and Rhysand. Not when the four of you could finally be happy together after so long. The High Lords didn’t say anything, you could only feel their gazes on you. “Bring him back. You did it for Feyre, you can do it for him.”

“She was human.” Helion said, looking down at you. He could see the heartbreak over your entire face. Over your mates faces as well. “It is not the same─”

“I don’t care. Do it. I can’t lose him, I won’t. Please, father.” You looked up at him, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Helion felt his heart squeeze tightly at the new title. It had been something he never imagined could be possible until this moment.

Your eyes found Feyre, you didn’t need to say anything to understand what she would do to help you, Cassian and Azriel get your mate back. Tarquin stepped forward, eyes on you.

“For what he gave,” Tarquin whispered. “Today and for many years before.” You watched as a seed of light appeared in Tarquin’s palm. More tears escaped from your eyes rolling down your cheeks as you watched the light fall down into Rhys’ throat vanishing into his skin. One by one the High Lords started to offer up a seed of light repeating what Tarquin had done. You heard Feyre talking but were trying to feel out the bond for Rhys to listen in.

When Tamlin came up she begged for you, the two of you had become best of friends over the last few months and while she couldn’t understand the loss of a mate because Ryder was right next to her he understood the pain of almost losing a mate. Feyre couldn’t let you go through that pain. You glanced at Tamlin as he dropped the seed of light into Rhys’ mouth.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Take care of her.” Tamlin said, as he looked back at Feyre while Ryder held onto her.

“I will.” You placed your head on his chest, closing your eyes, waiting. Cassian and Azriel kept their eyes trained on Rhysand also waiting. In fact everyone had been waiting. But you could feel it, the thud of the bond growing brighter and brighter for the four of you. You glanced at Az and Cass to see the same reaction on their faces. Then you felt it, the graze of his hand on your back. A soft touch and something you never wanted to let go of.

Then Rhys groaned, “If we’re all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.” Cassian released a broken laugh, he and Azriel placed a hand on top of your hand that was connected to Rhys’. You didn’t let Rhys go, nor did you open your eyes to look at him. You breathed him in as you felt his heart beat against his chest, against your ear. The tears still streamed down your face, but were falling onto his leathers. “You lot will be pleased to know… My power remains my own. No thieving here.”

“You do know how to make an entrance,” Helion started. “Or should I say exit.” That earned a glare from you, your eyes had opened and you had looked up at your father.

“You’re horrible.” Viviane snapped. “That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I meant no harm by it.” Helion paused and became serious as he looked down at the three males that would soon become his son-in-laws once they were mated to his daughter. “Do not hurt her like that again. And that goes for you Shadowsinger, and you General.” The three males gave a nod to your father. Finally Rhysand called your name, for the first time since he had come back you looked at him.

“I’m here, my loves.” He said as he looked at the three of you. His violet eyes lingered on you.

“Good, I don’t want to see what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come back.” Cassian whispered.

“So, does this mean we can finally accept the mating bond?” Rhys asked, a smirk on his lips as he continued to switch at who he was looking at. You looked at Azriel who gave a nod, then at Cassian who did the same. Finally you looked back at Rhys.

“If it means we get forever together then I can’t wait to accept the mating bond. I don’t wish to live in a world where none of you exist. And I don’t wish to live another day without being able to call you mine forever.” You smiled at them, the smile never leaving your lips even as you returned back home.

Part 2

[shinestarhwaa]

So I can't stop thinking about Ateez incubi-

But like...you're a nympho and they show up all "HA IMA SEX YOU"

and you're all "OH FUK YEAH" and they don't know what they are in for.

I keep wondering how each one would react to the tables being turned and the utter panic or if they'd love it.

I'm crazy and I've been on here too long.

An OT8 Incubus fic? Lord. I have never written anything like this before so pls bare with me and forgive me for any mistakes. I'm not too familiar with fantasy stuff but the incubi themes have caught my attention a few times before so I thought I'd give it a go. It has been weeks or months since you've asked this so I'm sorry for the long wait, but it's here. <3

SAY MY NAME | OT8

Genre: Smut

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @star1117-archives @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main

Pairing: OT8 Ateez x Fem reader

Word count: 4.1K (of 100% smut)

Warnings/tags: Incubus!Ateez (sexdemons), vulgarity, pure filth, unprotected sex, oral sex, anal sex, face/throatfucking, dirty talk, reader is such a menace and a brat like man Wooyoung seriously found his match, degrading, choking, namecalling (whore, slut), fingering, some m x m action, huge dicks fr, they're all hundreds of years old (and San and Hongjoong are kind of their leaders), Yunho is a rookie incubus lol, SO many orgasms, overstimulation, nipple play ig, cum eating, hairpulling, squirting

Let me know if you wanna be on my taglist❣️

This will be absolute pure smut so read at your own risk lol

ENJOY!

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you could feel something was up. The atmosphere was uneasy, yet you were unsure why. You sat up straight, rubbing your eyes, trying to focus.

''Look at that, guys, she's already showing off her beautiful tits,'' a voice suddenly called. You frowned, scanning the room until you saw shadows, eight to be exact. You looked at the shadows, back to yourself, noticing the blanket that pooled around your legs, breasts left uncovered. You had the tendency to sleep naked as it felt like freedom to you.

''Look at those... Nipples already hard.''

The shadows came closer, revealing eight men - were they men? They were bare chested, muscular, cloaks around their shoulders what seemed to be gorgeous red and black wings. Their legs were muscular, showing through the leathery-latex fabric of their pants. One of the shorter ones stepped forward, the buckles on his boots making a little noise with every step.

''Hello there, little one,'' he said, running his hand through his bright blue hair. ''Who... Or what are you?'' you asked, although you kinda had a feeling that you knew what was coming. ''Me? I'm an incubus, my dear, and you can call me Hongjoong, you'll need to know what when you'll be screaming my name,'' he smirked. You swallowed thickly, feeling the arousal pool between your legs.

One of the taller ones took a deep breath, gasping. ''Can you smell that, boys? How horny she already is? She barely met us and already cannot help herself,'' he smirked. You bit your lip. ''So you boys just- sorry... You incubi... just came into my room to fuck me?'' The second incubi stepped forward, coming closer to your bed. ''We sure are. And you have no other option than to fucking take it, take our cocks... I can't wait for you to take mine baby, you'll be screaming my name... Seonghwa, until you cry...,'' he spat, leaning into you.

''Who said I didn't wanna take it? Having eight little guys fight for me and wanting me on their little cocks sounds pretty good actually,'' you teased. You couldn't care less about them being incubi, being a brat was in your blood. ''I'm fucking ready,'' you said as you threw the blanket off yourself, revealing your naked body. ''Come and get it,'' you winked at them, noticing they were already hardening in their pants.

''Oh? A little girl who thinks she can handle eight incubi at once? You don't know what you are doing, little one,'' the tallest one said, stepping forward. ''Well, puppy boy, you don't know what you are in for,'' you smirked, crawling over to the foot of the bed, where he was standing. Your fingertips travelled up and down his chest and abs, making his breath hitch in his throat.

''Earth to Yunho? What do you think you're doing? You're such an idiot, you're a newbie and it shows,'' another one complained, rolling his eyes. He was much smaller, but he was muscular and feisty, making you curious. ''Wooyoung shutup, I'm only 139 years old!'' Yunho grunted, making Wooyoung laugh.

''139 huh? You'd be the oldest person I've ever had,'' you smirked, teasing him more. ''No, I will be the oldest you've ever had, and we are not so called persons, we're fucking incubi. I'm 456 years old so you better respect me, hm?'' another one said, lifting your chin up with his thick fingers. ''Mhm, alright daddy,'' you winked. The cat-like incubi rolled his eyes. ''It's San.''

''San... Sannie? Is your cock as big as a mountain?'' you giggled, teasing him as well. ''You must've been a cat in your previous life, you look like you could meow any second now.'' San grabbed you by your throat, grunting as you palmed his hardened cock. ''Who do you think you are, little one? That's none of your business. I'll fuck this brattiness right out of your little ass,'' he said as he threw you back on the bed. You got him right where you wanted, not caring that you were actually playing with evil, not caring about being careful.

San stripped himself from his black pants, revealing his big, hard cock. ''Oh? No underwear? That's kinky. Do none of you wear underwear under that?'' ''I'll fucking show you kinky,'' San said as he wrapped his hand around your throat. You whined when you felt the restriction on your throat combinated with San's thick fingers sliding through your wet folds.

''Gosh, how are you this fucking wet,'' the demon called Wooyoung breathed out, palming his own cock through his pants. San rubbed your sensitive clit, causing you to whine out. ''You act so tough, Y/N, but we are so much more powerful,'' he cooed, ''you act as if we're people... But we are incubi, my love, we are meant to sex you the fuck up... Fuck you endlessly, fill you up with our devilish seeds... bet you'd be into that huh? Wanna get fucked by a couple demons like the whore you are? Hm? We know all about it princess, we know all about how much of a whore you are for a little dick,'' San grunted, pumping one finger inside your cunt, causing you to moan out.

The sensation was so much more intense with a demon compared to a human being, you noticed. Only one finger left you completely needy and in desire for the eight of their cocks. San pumped two of his fingers inside you, making your arousal flow through you and dripping down your pussy.

''Look at you, such a pathetic little slut,'' another incubus smirked, walking forward. He was fully undressed and you couldn't help but be surprised and impressed by his thighs and thick, proud cock. ''You just love being used, isn't that right?'' ''Yes... uhm...'' you breathed out. ''Jongho, is my name, darling.'' You nodded, ''Yes, Jongho.''

''I believe you need all your holes filled, so why don't you open up your mouth babygirl,'' Jongho smirked, hovering above your face. He faced San instead of the wall so he could be in charge of shoving his dick down your throat, which he did, making you gulp around his cock.

San smirked, pumping his two fingers in and out of your sopping cunt at a rapid pace. You moaned around Jongho's large cock as he fucked your throat. With his heavy balls covered your face you couldn't help but lift your hands up and squeeze them, play with them and fondle them. Jongho moaned out loud, surprising the other demons.

''Look at that little girl, she's taking them so well, I wonder how she takes cock in her little cunt,'' a very pretty demon said. ''I know right, Yeosang, she's swallowing my fingers so well, so eager,'' San replied, putting a third finger inside you. You felt intoxicated by the feeling and the sexual tension lingering in the air. You couldn't help but moan loudly, even with Jongho's cock in your mouth.

''God, you, moaning around my cock like that... Is it that good huh? Is Sannie making you feel that good?'' Jongho cooed. You whined loudly as you felt San hit all the right spots inside you. Jongho started groaning and pulled out of your throat. You gasped loudly, barely adjusting before it was filled with a new cock. You had barely seen the face of the demon, but it was quick to tell you his name.

''I'm Mingi, nice to meet you,'' he said as he started fucking your mouth. He was even girthier than Jongho was. He pounded your throat hard and quick and you were nearly choking and tears streamed down your cheeks as his groans got louder gradually. He came across as a bit of a goofy one before when you saw him, but the way he made you gag around his dick made you nearly cum on San's fingers, who quickly withdrew them as Mingi orgasmed, spilling inside your mouth without a warning.

San gestured Wooyoung to come closer, making him open his mouth. The oldest slid his slick fingers into Wooyoungs mouth, smirking. ''How does she taste, baby?'' Baby? ''Like fucking hell, Sannie,'' Wooyoung smirked. You looked worried for a second. ''Oh no, that's a compliment!'' Wooyoung quickly explained, ''Hell is the place to be, my love, you don't need heaven,'' he smirked.

Of course he wouldn't say it's heaven, he's a demon, duh.

''Did you just call him baby?'' you dared to ask, eyeing San and Wooyoung. ''Oh we are kind of a thing,'' Wooyoung bluntly said. You gasped, ''And you're okay with just... fucking other people?'' Wooyoung laughed. ''We're not people, my love, we're incubi, we need sex, we are meant to have sex over and over. We don't feel love like you do, but I suppose he's Clyde and I'm Bonnie as you humans say,'' he explained. ''So partners in crime then? You fuck people together?'' you asked.

''Hey, you know, I didn't plan on making this some kind of tea party, can we get on with the sex please?'' Yunho complained. San grinned lightly. ''Newbie,'' he scoffed, ''Fine, go over to her then, show her what you can do, you might get promoted.''

''You guys get promotions?'' you asked curiously. ''Well, not in money, but other things. Better accomodations, better clients, like prettier clients, bigger and stronger wings, extra stamina, bigger cocks, whatever,'' San explained as he took off his pants last, revealing his absolute monstercock, reminding you he's the oldest of all of them.

You swallowed thickly as you scanned all of their bodies, which were definitely all better than anyone's you've ever had sex with. Yunho laid on the bed and pulled you on top of him. He lifted you up with ease, realizing his strength was definitely part of his forte. He slid his cock inside your slick cunt, stretching your hole out completely, causing you to whine loudly. ''H-Holy shit!'' you moaned.

''Don't forget lesson one, Yunho, she's not used to demon cocks so give her a minute, but don't give her too much control. We are here to use her,'' Hongjoong reminded him. Yunho nodded, placing his large hands on your hips. You panted out, feeling your entire body tingle. He gently played with your tits, rubbing your nipples softly.

You moaned as you started to bounce on Yunho's cock, surprising the eight demons. ''Oh she's crazy,'' Mingi muttered. ''She's so perfect... Like a real... proper slut, clenching on my dick,'' Yunho smirked. ''Yes! Oh god, say that again,'' you moaned out, bouncing harder. It didn't happen often that the demon's preys were so into it and even were doing the work voluntarily.

''Yeah? You like being called a slut? Look at you... bouncing on my cock like that...'' Yunho moaned out. ''Y-Yes, oh I love it! L-Love being stretched out by your big, big cock,'' you whined, throwing in an ego-boost for the incubus who started smirking, eyeing his fellow demons. ''Look at him getting cocky,'' Mingi grinned as he watched Yunho hold onto your hips tightly, pounding up into you.

''Yunho! O-oh my God, Yunho, I'm gonna cum!'' you whined out as you felt the familiar warmth in your abdomen. ''C-can I cum? Please, please, please?'' ''Yes, baby, cum, cum all over my fucking cock,'' Yunho grunted as he fucked you harder. You felt a sensation you had never felt before in your life as he bounced you on his length. You came undone so hard you nearly saw stars, letting out the most sinful, pornographic moans you ever made.

The large demon came right after you, spilling his devilish seed inside your wet pussy. You moaned at the feeling, collapsing on his large chest. Before you could regain your breath Yunho had already laid you down, making you whine at the empty feeling in your pussy.

''Looks like our whore wants something more,'' Hongjoong said, ''Do you want my cock, little one?'' The smaller one slowly walked over to you, intimidating you with his demonic eyes. He crawled over you and lifted up your chin. ''Yes, Hongjoong, I want you, want to be filled up,'' you whined.

Hongjoong didn't waste another second and plunged his length inside your wet hole, pounding into it so hard and fast you swore you'd pass out from the pleasure. You moaned out, grabbing the sheets when you felt Mingi's mouth on your breasts, licking and flicking your nipples with his tongue.

''Look at those fucking delicious tits, so pretty,'' Mingi grunted, lightly biting your nipple, causing you to arch your back. You swore you'd lose your mind as Hongjoong was fucking you into oblivion. His cock wasn't as huge as Yunho's but he made up for it in pace and stamina, showing no signs of exhaustion whatsoever.

''Fuck me, yes, fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!'' you screamed, totally submitting to the demon taking over your body. ''You're fucking ours now, understood? You belong to us,'' Hongjoong growled, fucking you so hard you saw stars.

You moaned over and over, feeling your body start shaking as you couldn't help but cum all over Hongjoong's cock when Mingi slipped his fingers between the two of you and started rubbing your sensitive clit. ''O-oh yes! Y-yes!'' you moaned out. ''Yeah? Want my cum? Want my fucking cum? You're gonna fucking get it, Y/N, say my fucking name'' Hongjoong moaned out, letting go and climaxing inside your cunt. You clenched hard around him, milking him dry completely, whining out his name

He pulled out of you, a string of your combined cum connecting him to your messy cunt. Seonghwa didn't hesitate to crawl onto the bed, darting his tongue out like a hungry dog, lapping the cum from Hongjoong's cock and your pussy, making the two of you groan.

Seonghwa started licking your pussy, eating you out and swallowing all the cum and arousal like a starved man. ''O-Oh yes, Seonghwa!'' you whined, running your hands through his raven hair, pulling it slightly. The demon moaned at the feeling as he fucked his long tongue into your easy hole. Drool was dripping on his chin, but nothing could stop the hungry demon. ''O-Oh my God that feels so good!''

''Seonghwa likes to feast on horny girls' pussies,'' Hongjoong smirked. ''I-I can tell,'' you breathed out, pulling his hair once more as he sucked your clit. ''I-I'm so close, Hwa!'' you moaned out. Seonghwa smirked at the new nickname. He sucked your clit hard, using the force of his strong tongue. You quickly came undone on his tongue, climaxing for the third time already, but he wouldn't stop.

''T-Too much, O-oh, OH!'' you nearly screamed out, squirming underneath his touch. ''Yeah? Is it too much for you? Little whore... You were begging for it, and now it's too much?'' Yeosang said, the pretty demon. ''Y-Yes, too much, please!'' you whined out, tears rolling down your cheeks. ''Well, guess what, we don't give a fuck that your pleasure is too much for you, cause you're just gonna take what we fucking give to you.''

Your eyes widened and you nodded. You couldn't help how horny that made you, completely being at their mercy. ''Yes, fuck, I-I'm sorry!'' you cried out. Seonghwa slobbered at your pussy like a dog, moaning against it as Yeosang stood behind him, gently cupping his balls and fondling them.

''You're so good Seonghwa, you definitely discarded the Rookie title,'' he praised the other, making you assume Seonghwa hadn't been an incubus for that long either. Seonghwa pulled away from your cunt and laid down as he pulled you on top of him, gesturing Yeosang to get on the bed behind you.

Seonghwa slid his cock inside you with ease, making you moan as he filled you up. ''Come on, Yeosang, get inside her too,'' Seonghwa grunted. Your eyes widened and you yelped as Yeosang's cock slid in your pussy, along with Seonghwa's.

You screamed out when Yeosang started moving his cock in and out at a rapid pace, sharp nails digging in the silky flesh of your thighs. ''AH! O-oh my god s-so big! S-so fucking big,'' you whined out. You had never felt this full before. Jongho stood up and got on the bed, holding your head still as he entered your mouth with his cock once again.

''You didn't make me cum the last time, princess, and fuck, you're gonna take three cocks at ones now. Understood? You'll take my fucking cum down your throat,'' he threathened. You nodded quickly and opened up your mouth further so you'd be able to take more of him in your mouth.

The remaining five men were all surrounding you, standing next to the bed, either pumping their own cocks or touching each other's. ''Look how much of a slut she is, she's even taking three cocks at once... Never have I ever witnessed that before,'' Mingi breathed out. ''I knew it, I told you she'd be a real whore when we entered the room and I was right. Her tits were already in the game before she even knew,'' Wooyoung smirked.

You gagged on Jongho's cock, looking up at him with teary eyes, face and hair a complete mess. Seonghwa played with your nipples as he bucked up into your cunt. Yeosang moaned out as he slid his cock along with Seonghwa's, reaching and touching places no one ever had before.

''I feel you clenching again, princess, are you cumming again? Are you gonna cum on our cocks? Such a good fucking girl, taking us like a real whore, best fucking client we've ever had baby,'' Yeosang growled as he pounded you harder and harder. You moaned loudly around Jongho's cock, drool, spit and tears coating your pleading face.

''Go ahead princess, cum on their dicks as you take my fucking cum in your throat,'' Jongho ordered. It only took two more thrusts before you came undone on Yeosang and Seonghwa. Jongho spurted his white liquid in your mouth, some dripping out of your mouth near the corners.

''Good girl... Such a good girl,'' Jongho cooed, licking his own cum and spit off your cheek and chin before getting off the bed. ''Fuck, I'm gonna cum, gonna fuck you so full of cum,'' Seonghwa moaned out. ''Y-Yes, give me your cum!'' you moaned loudly.

Yeosang pulled out his cock and you were suddenly filled up by an insane amount of cum Seonghwa sho into you, he kept cumming and cumming, making you go crazy and cum once again on his length, squirting all over his body and the sheets, screaming out his name. The pretty demon spat on his fingers and entered your ass, scissoring you open, making you whine loudly. ''You even like that hm? You really are a slut,'' he smirked, as if he didn't have control over your pleasure.

It was what they did. They could do anything they wanted to you, there was barely anything they did that didn't give pleasure. They made their preys feel ten times more sensitive as they had them under their spell.

Yeosang pumped his cock so quickly, cumming all over your ass, making sure you were coated inside and out. ''Fuck,'' he moaned, milking himself over your ass, patting it lightly. ''Good girl.''

You panted loudly as you rolled of Seonghwa's cock. San crawled over to you and spread your legs, looking at your full pussy, painted white with cum. ''What do you think, babygirl, can you take some more?'' he asked. You nearly passed out from the pleasure, but you nodded either way, wanting to have had every member of their little demon gang.

San slid his fingers through your folds and spat on his cock, coating his length. ''Sannie, I wanted to go next,'' Wooyoung sighed. ''Well, you'll have to wait because I am about to split her ass open,'' he smirked. ''Oh yeah, sure, come on she just had Seonghwa, how can she take the other sperm-tank of the group?'' ''Oh well, she'll take it, don't worry.''

The oldest incubus got you on all fours in no time, shoving his cock inside your ass without any warning. You screamed out his name and your arms nearly immediately gave in. ''Gotta have had all your holes filled and coated with cum precious, so I am the one taking care of this one. F-Fucking love your ass,'' he grunted as he pistoned his wet cock in and out of you.

He fucked you hard and deep, pressing you into the matrass right on the spot you had squirted. ''Fucking whore... You love it so much don't you? Having the biggest fucking cock you've ever fucked in your little ass? You'll never fucking forget this, baby, you'll never forget my cock,'' he growled in a raspier voice than earlier.

''Yes, San, San, O-Oh yes fuck me, fill me up, please fill me up, cum inside me!'' you moaned loudly, voice muffled by the soaky matrass. ''Yeah? Want my cum in your ass? Okay, baby, fucking take it then,'' San moaned out before cumming in you, coating your insides with his cum. His cum was just like Seonghwa's; it was so creamy and it was so, so much, you felt completely full and fucked out when he pulled out of you, letting you lay there completely ruined.

Wooyoung turned you over so you laid on your back and hovered his cock above your face and you immediately let out your tongue, giving the tip little kitten licks, making him smirk. ''Can I fuck you, precious?'' he asked. There was something about him that felt familiar and comforting, and for a second you saw it in Wooyoung's eyes as well.

He slowly entered you, much gentler than the rest, making you gasp as you held onto him. He teased you, slowly grinding his cock in and out of you, looking you straight in your eyes.

''W-Wooyoung, Wooyoung!'' you moaned out as he rubbed your clit in little circles, going faster and faster. Wooyoung's dick felt so magical inside you, it wasn't as long but it was insanely thick and girthy, feeling the blood-pumping veins against your cum-coated walls.

''Yes baby, say my fucking name, say my name, I got you, I fucking got you,'' he moaned out, growing needier and needier, fucking you harder and moaning louder. You groaned and whined over and over, moans aligned with his hard thrusts.

''W-Wooyoung, W-Woo, Oh, Wooyoung!'' you cried out as he rubbed your clit quickly. ''Cum for me, squirt all over my fucking cock, okay baby? Just let go,'' he panted. It took one, two, three more thrusts before you screamed his name out loud, body shaking as you climaxed on his cock, squirting all over him, receiving a few 'oh's from his fellow incubi.

He came with a low, long groan, filling your entrance up to the brim until it spilled out. ''Fuck, baby, such a pretty little girl,'' he said as he kissed your head, showing a gentler side you hadn't seen of any of the incubi.

He pulled out of you and the remaining seven demons stepped closer, surrounding you on the bed. For a minute you were worried with was gonna happen, until you noticed each one of them had their large cocks in their hands, jerking off at their own paces, some slower than others.

You spread your legs, opened your mouth and closed your eyes as you saw their furrowed brows and heard their mutters and grunts, noticing they were gonna paint you with cum.

After Hongjoong was the first to cum over your thighs, the rest followed. Mingi and Yunho covered your breasts in cum, Jongho and Yeosang came over your pussy and abdomen, San an Seonghwa unloaded on your chest and Wooyoung was last to whine out your name, cumming over your face.

You panted loudly, breathed heavily, not being able to get up anymore, although you weren't sure if you were gonna pass out or it was their doing.

''Good girl,'' Mingi cooed, patting your hair. ''Sleep tight, we might show up again, princess,'' Jongho said. You heard them shuffling away from you, but you felt one's breath on your lips.

You recognized Wooyoung, who gently pecked you, and kissed your head. ''Are you coming, Woo?'' San asked. ''Yes, I'm coming...'' he said, sighing, kissing you one last time only to leave with the other demons. Then it all got quiet.

-

You woke up the next morning, your entire body sore and stiff, sticky with cum. You gasped as you recalled the memories with the demons, giggling to yourself as you thought about your little secret. You noticed a little note scribbled on the mirror with black letters that made you smile and think.

'I'll be thinking about you

-Wooyoung'

[cinamun]

So basically, I want to talk about this because I feel this is poignant. Since it probably wont be explored much later, I would like to get into it... feel free to join me? Or not its ok.

After Indira and DJ graduated, we took a time skip ahead 3 months to find Indya and Darren living as empty nesters in a beautiful townhome in Tomarang. They didn't relocate to Tomarang alone; DJ moved into Foxbury student housing onsite there (similar to Hope studying from Mt. Komerebi) and Dira moved into a townhome of her own. While on opposite sides of the island, they keep in contact.

DJ, because of college and all that comes with it, is probably more connected to his parents still. There's paperwork that needs completing for his coursework, etc. Not to mention his breakup with Amaya had him visiting a few times.

Indira on the other hand found her wings and immediately enjoyed all that came with freedom and independence living in a new place, meeting new people and doing what she wanted on her terms. She and her brother left home with HEFTY starter funds so they really want for nothing. While Dira is always in the group chat and speaks to her mom and dad at least a couple of times a week, she really doesn't make her way across the bridge to visit her parents. She decided college wasn't for her so there isn't a need for any assistance with forms, etc. She didn't have a boyfriend so, unlike Hope, there was no relying on mom for life advice in that regard like we saw in Mt. Komorebi.

Indira really has been on her own. So yeah, this moment is pivotal in that Indya expressed a fear to Darren awhile back that Indira wasn't honest with her and, what if they just grow up and leave and forget about their mom? Indya has made space for her daughter to explore and live but I think there was something magical about seeing her daughter, who exhaled all of her worries on her shoulder, coming back home.

[hauntedwitch04]

Lucifer I

Nyx Acheron x reader

Words: about 5.0k words

Warnings: blood, death, murder, sad things in general, shitty biological family

Author's note: This is a request by a follower on Wattpad, that I personally loved and I wrote this during the night. It's not complited, the second part will be out soon, but it was getting to long. Hope you like it loves, your witch Becky

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"Say one more word and I swear I'll cut out your tongue." You say looking at the young prince of the night, who reciprocates by looking at you amused.

"Uncle Az, tell your hound dog to stay put." Nyx replies, as he rises from the chair in the meeting room we are in. For a moment you forget about him and end up looking around, and you wonder if little te knew this would happen to her in the future, if she would believe it. When Azriel found you, hiding in a cave not far from the Illyrian camp from which you had escaped, he was shocked at how long you had lasted alone in the woods. It had been weeks now since you had managed to escape what was left of my family, yet you still had not managed to wash away completely the blood of your sisters that had remained under your nails.

After your parents had died, my father in battle and my mother in childbirth, the chief of our tribe had decided to assign you to the only relatives left for you and your sisters namely your uncles, evil and mean people who had only money in mind and how to accumulate more and more of it, and because of this however small you were, you had to start working right away. Also living with you was our mother's mother, a bigoted and unintelligent woman bound by the stupid traditions of the barbaric people of which I am a part, who from early on you knew would present a threat to your wings. Not a day went by when she did not complain that you had not yet bled or find ways to make it happen, but you in response had studied every book and document you could about it and made sure to find every remedy you could to delay the arrival of what would spell the end of your last freedom. And the same you did with your sisters when they began to grow up, honoring the memory of your parents by asking them for help every night.

After spending years and years being a slave, on your twentieth birthday you woke up with red-stained blankets and immediately a new fear took its place in your body. You could already hear voices coming toward the room you shared with your sisters, and without a second thought you had jumped up waking the other two girls and telling them to take what you had prepared to run away. Within minutes you were already running through the woods, looking for a safe place to live for a while until you figured out how to do it. Over time you had also learned to hunt, and so you were not afraid to live in the woods; what you were afraid of was your family.

A little over an hour had passed when you heard voices coming from behind.

"Baby, I don't want to hurt you. You know we have to, it's time for you to become a real woman." Yelled your uncle in an obnoxious, sarcastic voice, and you only increased your pace, which soon turned again into a hopeless race dragging your sisters toward what you hoped would be salvation.

"Do you really think those wings make you somebody! You are nothing if a little slut trying to escape from a future that is already written! Hurry up and I promise I won't rip your wings off, just keep playing hide-and-seek and I'll take all the time I can to do what I want with you!" Yells your uncle again, before laughing out loud. "Do you think we haven't found your stupid plant books, to delay your bleeding, do you think we're that stupid? That alone could be enough of a death sentence for you, do you really want to make your situation worse!?" He continued, and you felt a cold chill run down your spine. For a moment you thought about turning yourself in, then the image of all those girls you had seen suffer or even die for what they had done to their wings came into your mind, and so you began to run even harder, until you found yourself in front of a cave. You had found it a while ago, trying to catch something in the woods, and it had seemed like a good hiding place. You told your sisters to go inside, while you went for a second to retrieve some weapons you had hidden in a hollow log two minutes away from there, intimating to them to keep quiet if they did not want to be discovered. Yet all was in vain.

One minute. Sixty seconds. Twenty blinks. One moment.

It only took a moment to kill your sisters. Your uncle found them, and because they tried to escape he killed them on the spot, stabbing them in the stomach.

You arrived at the moment when you saw the youngest among the three of you fall, the one who being the eldest daughter you had the pleasure of holding first, while the middle one was already on the ground lifeless. You saw in her eyes the life slip away, like sand running through your fingers.

"So you won't run away like your useless sister." Said your uncle, looking at her handiwork before turning away. "Where is he right now, anyway? He abandoned you, he doesn't even have the courage to face me, yet he has the courage to leave you here to die." He continued.

"Turn around asshole, and face your fate." Whispers your sister, dying, amid blood spit on the ground and moans of pain. "I hope his blade is as sharp as your tongue." She continues, before telling you with her lips that she loved you, and then letting the life that animated her flow out of her.

Your uncle turned and for a moment his face was crossed with pure and simple fear, coming the anger that animated your face. A few simple sword movements, and in a few seconds he was in front of you on his knees, praying to your goodness, which in his regard had left you years ago. Blood gushed from his lips like lava from a volcano as you watched life fade away behind his tar-black pupils.

"I hope you will suffer as much as you made us suffer, and that Mother will have a special punishment for you. You killed the only family I had left, and for that I will take from you what you took from me: life." You said, looking down into his eyes. He spat in your face in response.

"Do you think you are so much better than me? You too will take the life of another human being, even your hands will be stained with blood, you and I are not much different." He said, before spitting more blood at my feet. "Besides, do you really think they will not notice that I am not going back to the village? Do you really think they won't come looking for me and find you here with all these dead people? Do you think you'll get away with it? O deluded little bitch, they will kill you, and then there we will be in the same cage before Lucifer."

"See you in hell then." You whispered before finally cutting his neck and letting his blood create a pool at your feet.

For hours you felt like an automaton as you carried your uncle's body out of the cave and buried it not far from there. Once you had stowed away all the earth, you turned to where your sisters still lay and for the first time truly felt their death strike you with an axe blow to the chest, whereas before you were too busy still brooding over anger and revenge. In a few steps you found yourself on the ground, your hands grasping their bloody clothes as you clutched them to your chest, crying hot and bitter tears. You screamed in every language you knew against every deity you remembered, as you begged anyone to take you in their place and let them live their lives. You spent the whole night crying and screaming, so much so that by morning you had no voice left. Once the sun came up you realized what you looked like. Your arms were completely bloody, especially your hands, where blood had even gone under your fingernails. Long minutes passed before you conceived the fact that you had to bury your sisters as well. This time, however, was different. You found a beautiful clearing full of lavender flowers and laughed at the irony. You had always loved lavender very much, and your sisters always teased you about it, and now the place where they would find peace would be just that. You slowly dug two pits next to each other in the shade of a willow tree, and gently placed their bodies, wrapped in blankets, as tears continued to stream down your face. You looked one last time at their bodies, so small and helpless at that moment, before covering them with the earth. Once finished you lay there on top of them, waiting for the dead to come for you too, feeling guilty for their death and for killing a man, seeing the blood still staining your hands. You screamed, cried again as you had done the night before, then you heard a rustling in the plants, and like a vision your sisters appeared to you holding hands with your mother, surrounded by shadows. By now it had become night, but you did not even realize it too engrossed in crying.

Immediately you were frightened by the scene and jumped to your feet, then you calmed down and realized that you had not gone crazy, but there were really them in front of you. You ran toward them, and tried to hug each of them three times, failing, and falling all three times into the void. Immediately the tears came back to you.

"I thought I was dead. I thought I had atoned for my sins, and instead I'm still here. I don't deserve to live, please do something help me." You asked, kneeling in front of them, looking down, and at that moment you felt like a gust of wind settling on your shoulder, so you looked up and saw that your mother had placed her hand on his shoulder and was looking at you fondly.

"My child, do not think that our death is your fault. You, on the contrary, did everything you could do. You must keep fighting, you cannot let yourself go like this. You must live for us, too." She said, but you shook your head, not believing you could.

"I am not so strong mom, I allowed them to hurt them. I-I don't think I can go on alone anymore. I am not strong enough." You whisper, as you go back to slump on the ground.

"Don't even think that. You have come this far, you must live for us too. We will never abandon you, we will become your janitors." She said making a gesture to indicate the shadows that surrounded her and your sisters. As if they understood the topic of conversation they moved toward you, twisting like a snake along your arms, until they reached your ear and whispered something to you. You were not even surprised to understand them, no matter how surreal this situation was. You watched intently as those night-colored pythons came to life around you, until you looked up again and saw that your mother was now retreating with your sisters, back to where they had come from.

"Where are you going!? Don't leave me!" You screamed, getting up and running toward them, but the shadows held you, like worried hands holding someone dear.

"You can't follow us where we go love, now we have to go back where we came from, we have already been away too much according to the rules. Take care dear and remember we love you. Enjoy every second of your life, don't remember the past, create a new future." Those were your mother's last words to you as your sisters waved goodbye, also with tears in their eyes.

At that moment I became a shadowsinger.

And so you returned to being alone, in the middle of the night, surrounded by shreds of darkness that moved with a life of their own.

"My lady must go and wash the blood off her clothes, and she will attract wild animals." The shadows say in your ear, as they urge you to get up. You resist a little at first, to be guided by them, who like an invisible wet nurse took care of you, for the first few days where you still had to get used to the situation. A week later you were fully back to yourself, and nothing could stop you. You kept moving from one place to another so they would not find you until one morning you heard a rustling among the plants, but your shadows that time told you something different that struck you.

"Honey, this time the one chasing us is someone like you." They said, as you were setting a new trap to catch some small game.

"Like us, you mean another shadowsinger?" You asked confused, torn between wanting to escape and wanting to know.

"That's right honey." They replied, before going forward.

A few minutes passed before a man, an Illyrian, emerged from behind the plants, but you soon realized that you did not know him.

"Hello." He said first, smiling slightly as he put his hands forward to show you that he had no hidden weapons to hurt you. "I would just like to talk to you."

You looked at him wary, then you saw a shadow emerge from his back, exactly like those adorning your shoulders, and immediately you felt understood. You saw his shadows go to his ears, as if to report something to him, and immediately his eyes widened as his face changed, looking at you with sorry eyes and a sorrowful smile on his lips.

"You are also like me. "You affirmed as you approached, he without warning embraced you, holding your slender, exhausted body in his mighty arms.

"I'm sorry." He said in a choked voice as he gently stroked your back. "Who has passed away?" He asked, trying to understand how you had managed to get what for him was a curse.

"My mother and sisters. They failed to protect them. My mother I failed to save all those years ago, while the others I left alone, and my uncle killed them." You whispered, as you let go in his arms in a desperate cry.

"Then you really are the girl from the village they are looking for." He said as he looked into your eyes, and you saw tears forming in his, as if he also remembered at this moment a past and distant pain, still alive in him though. "They sent me to find you, saying that a crazy dangerous murderer, but I think they actually are." He continues laughing, before asking another question. "Where is your uncle?"

"I killed him." You said in a hard, impassive voice and then looked at him coldly, or at least tried to, but the fear you were feeling clearly shone through your eyes. "I will accept whatever punishment you want to give me, but please don't take me back there. I ran away because they wanted to clip my wings, and now I'm afraid of what they would have in store for me, and I suspect it's worse than death." You asked, as more tears ran down your face.

He shook his head, before taking off his jacket and laying it on your shoulders.

"My dear, you will come with me, I will never take you back to that shitty place." He said softly as he stroked your face, and for the first time you felt the scars adorning his palms, and you were shocked by the contrast between his soft voice and his rough skin.

"I am Azriel, the High Lord's chief spy, and you will come with me to Velaris, where I will teach you everything I know about the shadows we share. After all, I've always wanted a little sister, and I'm sure Cassian will be impressed with your skills as well." He said, as he pointed you to a place in the forest devoid of trees. "I have to warn you though, we're a little crazy as a family." He continued, but you froze.

"Wait, I have to do something first." You said before running one last time to that lavender field, to which you had gone every day to see your sisters.

"It's not goodbye, it's goodbye. I will be back soon, as soon as I can. I love you all. I will live for you." You confessed at their graves, amid sobs before returning to Azriel.

He looked at you with compassion and together you took off into the air, and only when you arrived in Velaris did you realize that your life had really changed, and that a new adventure was beginning.

"Hey baby all right?" You eventually hear Azriel's voice, concerned, as he leans over the table to take your hands. You are the only one with whom he shows physical affection, trusting only you, and of course Gwyn, whom you regard as a mother.

Over time your relationship has proven to be more like that between a father and a daughter than between a brother and a sister. He has from the very beginning taken care of you, and you of him at times when he needed it, you have always supported each other, and a bond flows between you that is stronger than just a blood bond. You look into his eyes and see his doubt gripping him, but it still does not invade your mind, leaving you space. Nyx also seems to have quieted down. You and he have never gotten along too well, ever since you first met. You have been part of the Inner circle for ten years now, but the two of you only met five years ago, since he was studying on the mainland before that.

He, from the beginning saw you as a rival, and even being a couple of years younger, felt that his place as a protected and beloved prince of the court was being undermined by you.

He never understood the real reason why his uncle took you with them, and that was also because you had never shared your story with anyone outside of Az and his mate, not wanting others to see you as weak.

"Yeah all right, I was thinking about how not to kill that asshole during the mission." You say, trying to sound convincing, and apparently succeeding because everyone is giggling, outside of Az and Nyx who don't look very convinced.

"Oh come on Lucifer, we both know that the better of the two is me." He tries to comment, but you can still read the uncertainty in his eyes not believing your words.

"In your dreams Acheron." You answer, trying to let the nickname pass.

The next day, at dawn you find yourself on a mission in the woods near where you had grown up. A feeling of fear covers your heart and mind ever since you set foot here. Like a flooding river, memories of your childhood wash over you. Rhysand didn't know this place was steeped in trauma for you, or he wouldn't have assigned it to you, but if you had told him, you would have proven yourself unequal to your role as his court's deputy spy chief, unable to separate work and private life.

"We need to go to an Illyrian camp nearby, apparently there has been some insubordination." Nyx tells you, not remembering that you were also at the meeting her father had to describe the mission. "Hey, you look pale, are you okay?" He asks worriedly, turning to look at you.

"Since when do you worry about me Acheron? Aren't you getting soft?" You say, stepping past him as with confident steps of someone who has been down that road a billion times before, you move like a snake, with elegance and fluidity, through the trees of the forest. Out of the corner of your eye you see the boy step into a trap, which has been there since you were a child, which an old hunter always puts in that hole.

"Be careful putting your foot there, there is a trap." You say atonically as you continue walking. He stops and looks carefully at where he was about to walk to see that indeed you were right.

"Well I'd say you're mellowing, too, honey. Is the cold-hearted witch thawing out?" He asks with amusement as you without stopping or turning around give him the middle finger.

"I love you too baby." He continues, in response to your gesture, and you shake your head in response as you can't suppress a silly little smile appearing on your face.

"How did you know there was a trap anyway, it was really very well hidden." Comments the prince of the night, as he takes great strides to catch up with you.

You pause for a second, thinking whether to tell him the truth or tell him to go to hell again. You don't know what is getting into you but this place makes your head spin, and you feel like a poor, lonely, helpless girl again. The shadows surround you like a shield since you arrived, as if they, too, sense the familiarity of that place. You look into his violet eyes, which in the little sunshine coming in through the tree foliage, take on a lavender-like hue, and again it feels as if a prick comes sharply into your stomach and knocks you to the ground.

You see in his expression concern and sincerity, and this sends your system into a tailspin, which, as if it were nothing, opens up a deep, private part of you to him.

"I grew up here, I know these woods well." You say not looking into his eyes, too caught up in your emotions that are running through you right now. The shadows close even tighter between you, almost creating a cocoon.

"I didn't know that." He replies.

"Nobody knows, nobody but Az and Gwyn." You counter.

"He found you here then." The boy affirms, while in the shadows he tries to look around.

"Yes, not far from here." And you almost can't hold between your lips <<and near here I buried my sisters, a little farther away instead is the cave where they died at the hands of my uncle, whom I killed and buried near there>>, but fortunately you manage to hold back.

A few seconds pass in which neither of you really knows what to say, until you decide to confess other things.

"Nyx, the village we are going to is the one I ran away from when I was 20 years old with my sisters. Everyone there hates me, but I don't even think they would recognize me, however, I wanted to tell you before you see doing something stupid and reckless for no reason. At least you know some context, it seemed right to tell you." You say as you resume walking, but he grabs one of your two wrists with his hand and stops you.

"How come you ran away?" He asks with a seriousness you think you've never seen in him before.

"They wanted to take away the only thing that made me free: my wings." You answer with equal seriousness as I see his jaw twitch in anger.

"Who wanted to do this to you? Your parents?" He asks as disgust is evident from his tone.

"No, it's a long story." You try to answer without giving too much information, but immediately you feel something, guilt, making its way inside you. "Maybe someday I will tell you, but this is neither the place nor the time to do so." You continue, before starting to move along the forest. Nyx does not counter and follows your steps silently, always, however, staying close to you and in silence, as if she has that at this moment, the slightest thing could destabilize you and that you need someone right now, who without your asking, should help you survive from drowning in your memories.

You arrive at the village shortly after, and for a moment you feel like you have traveled through time. Nothing has changed since you left, and that gives you the chills. Immediately people begin to look at you askance, and within seconds you find the village chief standing in front of you. He is still the same as when you were there, an elderly gentleman with poor eyesight and a big heart. He was the only one who supported your choice to keep your wings, but the council had overtaken him and there was nothing he could do about it, he had confessed to you once while your family was still waiting for you to bleed, but he was already deciding your future. He looks at you with squinted eyes, trying to focus on your figure.

"Hello, we are here about the small riot that happened here a few days ago. The High Lord sent us." Says Nyx casually, with a smile on his face. You had decided before you left not to say your identities right away, so as not to arouse hatred as soon as you arrived, but you obviously hadn't told Nyx about why, though now he knows.

"Oh certainly, this way guys." Says the elderly gentleman, smiling at us. "But you didn't have to go to all that trouble, it was just a bunch of stupid kids who decided to make some trouble. There was no need for the High Lord to send any of his people, but we really appreciate you coming." He continues, as we cross the main street of the village.

"High Lord Rhysand is keen to let it be known that he is always available to his subjects when needed." Nyx replies very diplomatically, as he has been taught. You stop and stare at him, as you walk along, and think that deep down all those girls falling at his feet are not wrong. He is one of the most handsome boys you have ever seen, if not the most handsome of them all, with those violet eyes and perpetually disheveled night-colored hair. He is smart, but at the same time reckless, funny and kind, in short the perfect boy everyone dreams of. Immediately you freeze, and blush when you realize what you're thinking. You hear the shadows laughing in your ear, hearing your thoughts, and you under your breath curse them. You look around and realize you've stopped in front of what used to be your little piece of heaven: the bookstore. It was a tiny, musty place, and full of dusty old shelves, and run by a sweet and loving little lady, whom you treated like children.

When you were little, you spent hours in there, so much so that eventually the lady hired you as an assistant, making sure that your aunt and uncle didn't force you to stop going to that place to go to work.

It was never very busy, but it had a small circle of trusted customers.

Now, however, it is a ruined place. The window glass is broken, and the now-worn sign has fallen down. The shelves have all fallen, one on top of the other like bodies of soldiers wounded in battle, piled on top of each other. A dusty mist fills the store, while on the ground one can still see marks left by flames, while nothing but ashes remain of the books.

Nyx seeing that you stopped, stops in turn, apologizing to the village chief, and coming to see if you were okay.

"Hey, are you okay Lucifer? If you want, you can wait in one spot, and I'd be back to you in five minutes, I swear I'd be quick and then we'd run right out of here and not look back. You don't have to do all this if you can't." The boy says sympathetically as he takes your hand in his. That gesture makes you turn toward him, and then look at the older gentleman who has also turned back, and he looks at you smiling.

"I felt like I knew that smile." He says, looking at you as he strokes your face with one hand. "It seems like a lifetime since you and your sisters left. I see that life has treated you well." He continues happily, and you feel a pang in your heart.

"Life apparently has only treated me well." You say while remaining vague, and immediately he seems to understand, and with a sweet gesture, typical of a grandfather toward his granddaughter, he kisses your forehead lovingly.

"I'm sorry little witch." He whispers, and you smile at the nickname, which he had given you when you were still playing at making potions out of mud in the camp.

Nyx meanwhile was looking at you more and more confused, but he does not ask you anything, realizing that this is not the time for his questions. The shadows move agitated, too caught up in all those emotions.

"What happened to the bookstore?" You ask worriedly. "Is the lady okay?"

"She passed away shortly after you left. Her family did not take care of the store and let vandals destroy it." Confessed the elderly gentleman, sorry.

You are about to respond, angry at the people who allowed part of your childhood to be set on fire, when you hear a voice from down the street that chills the blood in your veins, that of your aunt.

...to be continued...

TAGLIST

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[myrtles-and-blood]

𖤓 Lucifer, the Light Bringer, Prince of Hell 𖤓

This is pretty long and corny, it's mostly for Lucifer and that's it. In case someone relates.

The freedom from your arms, bloody wings. A leap without faith, unbearable agony.

But the floor does not keep me for long. There is no bone that does not heal, there is no body that does not fight to live.

Without you I am everything I have never been, I finally cry with joy.

Quick poem without any pattern for Lucifer, but I would spend all my time writing for him. There's no special occasion for this offering.

I wanted to make this as a way of describing how I see him. He's very tall and lean, usually with a black suit and depends if he has his jacket on or not. Long black straight hair, and his eyes appear for me in many colors (red, blue, gold, black, and sometimes he mimics my eye color, so a blue/green weird color). He's very pale and has sharp features, and as we know he is very handsome, too.

I think I talked about this before but this is my blog and I do what I want:

I met Lucifer when I was really stressed because I couldn't write something for an assignment. I thought about writing about christian mythology because I started having a really hard interest in it.

I was having yet another faith crisis, but I did feel a heavy, tall presence on the right side of my bed. I was writing about Lucifer here, so I kind of thought it was him. I was extremely nervous, shaking and I just couldn't look at him (where I thought he was).

So I asked him (trying to appear normal about the situation) to help me write this, put some creativity in my head, I don't know, something.

I'm not gonna post it here, but I am really, really proud of it, and I got the highest score and a really good note from my teacher. I thanked him, of course, but that was it.

He appeared one or two more times randomly. However, he was living rent free in my head all the time, every day. There was not a day I didn't think about him. I started reading info about him, started to look into books about him, fiction about him that wasn't shit, but I didn't have time for anything.

One day I got tired. I couldn't think without thinking of him, and I was going nuts. So I told him (reinterpretation of the situation, he is very different now and there's a context behind his words)

"Hello, you have been in my head for a long time, and I want you to help me with —— because I think we have a pretty good connection and, to be honest, I just can't stop thinking about you"

He told me "Good, good. I'm fine with it. I'm not going to do anything, though. Do whatever you feel like you want to do, and we'll see how that turns out. I don't think you're gonna last a week, you're weak about all of this"

"That is... rude. I don't know, I don't trust myself much on this but I want to try"

"If you don't trust yourself, why would I trust you? Again, do whatever you want and call me if you need me, but I don't want you to waste my time like you've done before with others. I have better things to do than being around someone as irresponsible as you with your own time" and he was gone.

He caught me with a really good humor, because I took that as a base to get started. I finally made his altar (it's very small and cramped but he thinks it's nice), and talked to him a lot. I insisted I wanted some signs because I thought I was going crazy, and since then I've been seeing white and grey feathers everywhere I go to cheer me up.

He listens to me, he likes to listen to my opinion and likes when I want to hear his advice. He cares when I tell him something when I'm stressed and gives me great advice. He likes roses and I like drying them so he can always have some in his altar. I never liked the sun much but since I met him, the light feels different. I have a place to cry, and stars to look at, because they look back at me. I have someone that smiles when they look at me, and I have the best source of inspiration in the world.

I still think I sound extremely crazy, I hate being corny, but he's just really nice to be around. He's dad 🫶🏼

I hope that anyone that wishes to work with him has the best experience, because he is the best.

Ave Lucifer 🌌

[amaranthinecanicular]

THE KING'S CANARY TAKES FLIGHT!

The king's canary has abandoned his duty. Jimmy would argue he just quit a bad job. Either way there's a bounty on his head and a curse around his neck, and with Grian and Joel's voices ringing in his ears, Jimmy's dreams of freedom seem further out of reach by the day. That is until he saves a blaze hybrid who, for some reason, is hellbent on returning the favor. Alone, Jimmy is pathetic. Honestly, even with Tango, Jimmy still thinks they're kind of pathetic. But with a little bit of luck they just might make it.

[My gift for the @mcytblrholidayexchange, for @thesleepycat! I'm so sorry it's so late, but I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you had a stellar holiday!]

[alternatively read on ao3.]

:

THE KING’S CANARY TAKES FLIGHT!

It’s a catchy headline. Jimmy glares down at the trodden newspapers and admits at least this: it is a catchy headline.

One week and three towns out from the capital and the gossip still refuses to die. Jimmy blames the excess of perfectly reproduced ink on paper; if redstone wizardry hadn’t automated the process, he’s certain the printing press would never have taken off, and he’d have been able to slip through the cracks of the kingdom long before news could spread. 

He skirts the edge of the street and keeps moving. The phantom twinge of a boot grinding into his toes is easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore: the voices of the townsfolk, tittering over his crime. He hears his name but more often he hears his title. Canary. Canary. Canary. 

“Poor birdie. Can’t be easy, being the king’s canary,” says one woman. Jimmy doesn’t know if she’s being sarcastic or sincere; he can’t risk looking her in the face.

“Pah! Canary. Yellow-bellied sapsucker, more like,” says a man. “All he ever had to do was stand there and not die and get paid for standing there and not dying. Couldn’t even do that.” He’s starting to sound like Joel. “Got no idea what a real, honest day’s work looks like. Spoiled and ungrateful, you ask me. If I were him, with gifts like that, I’d be up in the castle no questions asked. Bitty canary’s nothing but a coward—ow!”

The man hops up and down on one foot, glaring at the oblivious butcher who’d stomped on it. 

Jimmy draws his hood low. 

:

Joel thought he was cursed by a witch. Grian thought he was born with it. The Red King said it was a gift from the gods, divine proof that he was meant to rule and no harm was to come to him.

Jimmy doesn’t know anything about a witch, or the gods, or the circumstances in which he was born, but he thinks Joel was closest to the mark. It’s a curse. It's always been a curse.

:

A dilemma: Jimmy needs food. 

His wings are numb with cold and his feet feel like he’s leaving behind the skin with every step, but food is the pressing issue. It’s taken two weeks and five towns of varying industry, but he’s finally run through the stock he took from the castle. He’s got plenty of money for more, but money isn’t really the problem. They just put out a reward for him. Martyn’s doing, if he had to guess. If anyone was considering letting him go before, they certainly aren’t now. 

Redstone has taken hold here, turned the town metropolitan, and he can hear as well as smell all the local dishes that the vendors are hawking: caramelized redstone sweets, charred and spiced meats, cups of blazepowder soup. They smell so good. He keeps to the outskirts of the market square, watching from the corner of his eye as steam wafts up every time the vendor ladles out chunky red broth. Jimmy feels the hiss of a burn on his hand; a second later the vendor’s eye twitches at a splash of hot soup. She looks up, and Jimmy ducks away before their eyes can meet.

There are no good options. If he pays for a meal, he’s almost guaranteed to be recognized and exposed. If he tries to steal something, he’s almost guaranteed to be caught and exposed. (He has no talent for thieving, as Grian and Joel proved every time they dared Jimmy to nick something, back when money was tight.) If he does nothing, his traitorous stomach will complain loud enough to garner attention, and then he’ll be exposed. Or he’ll starve. Which is also bad.

If he could, he’d have hiked through the forest until he got to the plains biome. Away from the towns and the crowds, free to hunt for his own meals. But every time he drifted from the path Joel and Grian’s voices rang in his head, reminding him that he’s never been good at camping, that mobs seem drawn to him like they knew he was weak, that he could barely hold his own with them around and on his own he was next to useless. 

He’s almost at the end of the square. What then? Keep going and hope he doesn’t collapse on the road to the next town? Even the thought of food leaves him lightheaded, he’d never make it. Wheel back around and pass through the market a second time, and risk being recognized? His pace slows to a crawl. Joel and Grian were right—he can’t survive on his own. He doesn’t know why he tried. He was warm and well-fed in the castle, and if he wasn’t appreciated then at least he was secure, and he only had to die occasionally.

Among all the spiced fruits and roasting meats, there is a small cart selling apples. The man working the cart is distracted (reading a paper with Jimmy’s reward plastered across the front, because what else would he be doing), only halfheartedly calling out prices to the bustling crowd. Jimmy is several yards away. Then only a handful. And then he's within arm’s reach, and no one has looked his way once. Surely no one will miss an apple? The owner of the cart shouts, and Jimmy flinchs, but he's only making a sale to a man on the other side of the cart. They fall into animated conversation. Jimmy stands scant feet away, unnoticed.

He could do it. He could do it now. That would show Grian and Joel. If Jimmy could steal an apple, what else could he do? What couldn’t he do? Of course he could survive on his own! Oh, they’d feel so terrible for thinking otherwise. They’d fawn and shower him with praise, and they’d tell him how capable he was, how strong and clever, how they were wrong to doubt him. They’d grovel, probably. They’d tell him they were sorry that he had gone through what he’d gone through, and how they appreciated that it had been for them, and that he didn’t need to do it any longer because he had tons, oodles of other skills and gifts that made him worth the burden of keeping him. He’d show them. 

If he ever saw them again, he’d show them.

The nearest apple is shiny and perfectly red. Jimmy reaches out.

Pain ravages him. It explodes hot along his side, blunt force that shatters his arm and leg and pulverizes his insides, even as it doesn't. He staggers. He chokes. Every breath feels like a betrayal, his body piercing itself over and over. The ghost of broken ribs. He chokes. He groans. 

It doesn’t stop hurting. It’s getting worse. Fear and pain leave him nauseous. Where will it come from? Where where where—

There. A redstone automobile down the street, blurred by his tears. It’s moving too fast. The wheel is wobbling wildly, the redstone in the undercarriage is sparking. It’s coming straight at him. No, it’s—it’s coming straight at the apple cart. 

The crowd is parting around him, now, he thinks. He’s getting looks—recognition or alarm, he doesn’t know. He tries to say run, but all that limps from his mouth is a moan. The man speaking to the vendor turns and sees him. Jimmy thinks he sees him. They have seconds.

“Run,” he thinks he says. Gasps, sobs, something.

The world jags and falls sideways. A man is above him. The man from the apple cart, and the vendor looking perturbed over his shoulder. One of them is speaking, the words bleeding and incomprehensible. Jimmy retains none of it. The pain is sun-bright. It razes away everything else.

Scant feet away, a vehicle screeches, and an automobile, out of control, smashes into the apple cart. There’s shouting, screaming. The vendor is gaping at the wreckage that is his livelihood. The man he was speaking to gapes as well, first at the splintered remains of the automobile and the cart, then at the mashed apples, then at Jimmy. If Jimmy could see him, he would know, then, the difference between alarm and recognition.

Jimmy doesn’t see him. Jimmy is dead. 

:

Jimmy doesn’t wake up right away. First, he stops being dead. Then he’s sleeping. He’s aware when this happens, in the loosest sense of the word—there’s no dreaming, no out of body experience, nothing in particular to tether him to the world at all. But the body knows when it’s dead and when it’s not, and so Jimmy knows. He lays quietly, thoughtless, floating, starry, until his body decides to stop doing those things. Then he wakes up.

The first thing he notes is that he’s still starving. At least he’s no longer cold.

The ceiling is a bland beige, splotched with dull scorch marks. Not back in the castle, then. That’s good. He blinks. He blinks again. His eyes are crusty and dry. So is his mouth. It’s very, very dry in here, actually, and very hot. Practically boiling, but in an arid way. Now that he’s awake, his armpits and the small of his back start to prickle with sweat. He has to wrestle his arms out from under a heavy quilt to rub the last of the sleep and death from his face, and his palms scrape against chapped lips. Still, he’ll always take too hot over too cold.

“Hey, you’re awake,” says a voice. “How are you feeling?”

There’s a blaze hybrid standing in the middle of a small, round room. He’s stoking a little fireplace with—with his bare hands, by the looks of it. Wow. Jimmy’s never seen that before. 

The hybrid turns to him fully. He’s shorter than Jimmy, wiry and sharp all over. He has wild blond hair, swept back from his face, the ends of it wavering into candle-like flickers of flame. His eyes are red all the way through. A long, slender tail flicks behind him, tipped in a merry ball of orange flame.

“I’m okay,” Jimmy says neutrally. 

“That’s good. You, uh, looked like you were in a lot of pain before.”

Jimmy does his best not to react to that. Grian always chides him for wearing his heart on his sleeve. “Okay. I’m feeling much better now.”

“You look it,” says the blaze hybrid. Jimmy chances a glance at his expression, then away. Does he know? Impossible to tell—mostly he just looks relieved. “Do you remember what happened?”

He does, for the most part, though he doesn’t remember this man. But the faces were all blurring together at the end. “Kind of.”

The blaze hybrid scrapes a small wooden chair out from a small wooden table and drags it to Jimmy’s bedside. Jimmy does his best not to stiffen up too noticeably. The man throws himself into the chair, his limbs poking in different directions like an awkward bundle of sticks.

“We were in the market. You looked like you were in pain,” he says. “A lot of pain. You called me and the apple vendor over to you, and then a carriage took out the cart behind us. Then you—” He pauses. “Passed out. I brought you here.”

Passed out. Jimmy doesn’t correct him. Instead he focuses on the “here,” and how very not a doctor’s office “here” is. Unless this man is the town doctor, and this is just the very cluttered and unsanitary place he practices medicine. Or maybe he’s a trained healer so he saw no need for a doctor? This could be innocent. It could mean nothing. 

Stupid, says a voice in his head that sounds like Joel. He knows. 

Jimmy does not panic. He is so so good at not panicking. “Well. Thank you. For that. Um. And—and where is here, exactly?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Welcome to my home!” The blaze hybrid throws out an arm, gesturing to the small room: the tiny fireplace, the tiny table, the tiny dresser, the few utilitarian appliances and the many tinkering knick knacks scattered all over that Jimmy can’t make heads or tails of. “Temporary home. Place I’ve been renting for a few months, I guess. Welcome either way.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy says again. Still in town, it sounds like. Okay. Okay. He can work with this. What would Joel and Grian do? Fight their way out. Not really an option for Jimmy; he’s always frail after revival, unlikely to win a fight or a foot race. But he’ll figure it out. And the blaze hybrid might not know who he is. Probably. Definitely!

The blaze hybrid says, “Sorry if this is forward, but. You’re the king’s canary, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like that name,” Jimmy says immediately, like an idiot. Death always muddles his brain, blunts his filter. “I—I actually have to go, right now, immediately. Places to see, people to go, you understand how it is, thank you again for the help—”

He lurches for the side of the bed, where the floor, predictably, rises to meet him. Less predictably, the blaze hybrid catches him around the shoulders.

“Hey, hey! Careful, man, slow down.” He pushes Jimmy back to the bed. Jimmy wishes he could say it was forceful, but Jimmy's pretty sure he's just as weak as a foal, and terrified out of his mind. He must do a poor job of hiding it, because the man makes a funny sound in the back of his throat. “Oh, I’m not—I’m not going to, like, turn you in or anything. No one else recognized you, and I didn’t tell them. Don’t worry about that.”

Jimmy will absolutely worry about that, thank you very much. “Um. Okay.”

The blaze hybrid holds up his hands. “I mean it. You’re safe here. The only reason I asked is because I was wondering if it was your, uh, power that happened? Back at the apple cart? I think that’s what happened, I just wanted to be sure.”

This feels like a trap. Like the king’s men are just outside the door, waiting for confirmation before they burst in and drag him back, where Ren will likely soliloquize about loyalty and betrayal and then Martyn will lob off his head. But if that were the case, shouldn’t they have already done the bursting and the dragging? Jimmy all but confessed his identity two seconds ago. He sees no way out of it now.

He nods, just once. 

“I thought so.” The blaze hybrid's eyes are deeply red. Fire dances inside them. Jimmy can’t tell if it’s reflection from the fire or something inner and innate. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Jimmy swallows. “You’re welcome.”

“Seriously. Thank you.” He reaches out and squeezes Jimmy’s shoulder. He’s smiling. “So: don’t call you canary. Got it. What should I call you?”

“Jimmy,” Jimmy says, after he fails to think of a proper alias that isn’t Joel or Grian or King Ren. “Jimmy Solidarity.”

“Jimmy Solidarity. I’m Tango, of the Tek variety. You can just call me Tango.”

Jimmy nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

Tango says, “You hungry?”

Is he trying to stall Jimmy long enough for the king’s men to get here? Most likely. Jimmy’s stomach decides he doesn’t care. “Oh my gosh yes please I’m starved.”

:

Three bowls of blaze powder soup later (better than what was being sold in the street, if only because it is now in Jimmy’s belly), Jimmy finally feels like more of a human again. 

“Thank you,” he sighs, reclining back on the pillows of Tango's bed. The bowl is still warm in his hands. He’s loath to let go of it. “That was amazing. I’m, uh. Sorry if I took too much.”

Tango is still on his first serving. He laughs, and it doesn’t sound mean-spirited at all. “Dude, don’t worry about it! Nothing a chef likes more than someone enjoying his food.”

Jimmy swirls his spoon through the creamy broth at the bottom of the bowl. “Is that what you are? A chef?”

“Nah, not really. I just like cooking. Sometimes you gotta have a hobby that’s just for you, not for money, you know?”

“Sure.” It’s not something Jimmy has ever thought about, but he likes the idea. “Um, I should. I should probably go.”

“Okay,” Tango says easily. “You want some tea before you head out?”

Jimmy might actually cry. “Yespleaseohmygosh.”

:

The tea is even better than the soup, spiced and fragrant, smoky in the aftertaste. Somehow, against all odds, the company is even better.

Rather than being a wildly successful chef, Tango works with a nomadic troupe of demolitionists. Not a job Jimmy’s ever heard of before, but it sounds cool when Tango describes it. According to Tango and his expansive hand gestures, the redstone wizardry boom has resulted in cities and infrastructure rapidly expanding, deconstructing, rebuilding. In the chaos—his eyes brighten with the word—there’s opportunity for innovation, discovery, entrepreneurs. 

“And blowing stuff up in creative ways,” he adds. “So that’s always fun. I just figured out how to make the buildings implode instead of explode—reduces debris and collateral damage, and just looks awesome.”

“That’s amazing,” Jimmy says sincerely, and Tango’s smile glows, literally. It is suddenly imperative that Jimmy break eye contact.

“Another cup?” Tango asks.

Jimmy wants to, very badly. He’s enjoying talking to Tango. He’s enjoying the warmth and the tea and the conversation where both parties see each other as people, instead of a tool or a burden. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Tango says, then laughs, a little bashful. “Yeah, of course. Look at me, chatting your ear off! Let’s get you up.”

He takes Jimmy’s cup and then his arm in a firm, claw-tipped grip. His hand is bony and pleasantly hot. With his support Jimmy finds his feet, and manages three whole steps before his knees buckle.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Tango catches him, and leads him back to the edge of the bed. “You okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine,” Jimmy says. He feels a little lightheaded, a little breathless, more than a little humiliated. “This just happens when I—it just happens sometimes. I’m used to it.”

“Do you want to rest up a little longer?”

“I really should get going. You’ve done enough for me as it is.”

Tango nods slowly. “How far are you headed?”

“Far.”

“Right.” 

A pause. Jimmy clasps his hands between his knees and wills strength into his body. Usually it takes about three hours after revival to fully recover, not that Jimmy will tell Tango that. It’s not like he hasn’t had to get up and go minutes after death before. Ren was the target of back to back assassination attempts once, and Jimmy made do then. He can feel Tango reappraising him, the paleness of his face, his worn clothes and unwashed hair. He struggles not to shrink on himself.

This was a nice reprieve—a lovely surprise after a terrible death. He needs to leave before he ruins it. Oversteps Tango’s bounds, annoys him, reveals himself as something to be used or pitied.

Tango hovers, then sits beside him. 

“It’s just that…you still look kinda iffy, dude. Is there anyone I could bring you to? Anyone you trust to help you get…wherever you’re going?”

“I do,” Jimmy says quickly, eager not to be thought of as pathetically alone. “I mean, I did. I mean—I don’t, anymore. They wouldn’t have been safe, is all, with the whole on the run thing, and anyway, they wouldn’t have—that is, I…” He trails off, and says lamely, “It’s complicated.” 

Tango’s voice softens. “Okay. I get that.”

They sit together. Tango offers him another cup of tea; Jimmy takes it. He blows across the surface, watches the flecks of leaves bob on rippling waves. 

After a minute, Tango claps his hands on his knees and stands up. 

“Well hey, if you’re going to go you should at least go in some good shoes.”

He crosses the small apartment to the door, where Jimmy’s tattered shoes are propped up against the frame. Instead he grabs the sturdy pair of work boots beside them. 

Jimmy blanches. “I can’t take your shoes!” 

“Sure you can.” Tango sizes up Jimmy’s foot, decides it’s close enough, and pushes the boots into his arms. “They’re my extra pair, so you’re not putting me out. They might be a little snug, but I think snug is better than what you were working with.”

“That’s not the point! You’ve done too much for me. I can’t take your food and your tea and your shoes, I just can’t.”

Tango gives him an amused look. “Okay, but you saved my life, remember? I value that a little more than an extra pair of shoes. Take ’em. I insist.”

Jimmy does take them, but only because Tango also tries to give him new clothes, cloak, and packed-up food, which he turns down. This time when Tango helps him up, though Jimmy teeters, he keeps his feet.

Outside it’s still winter. In the warmth of Tango’s apartment, Jimmy had almost forgotten. Since his death night has fallen, and the streets are empty and bitterly cold. 

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to rest a little longer?” Tango asks.

Jimmy draws his cloak tight around his shoulders. “Long way to go, I’m afraid. Thank you for everything.”

Jimmy looks back at him. It’s the first time he’s looked into Tango’s face in a while: he’s pointy all over, angular, bordering on gaunt. He’s a candle in the dark. His smile is tinged with concern.

“No need to thank me,” he says. “I hope you get where you’re going, Jimmy. Take care.”

He offers his hand. Jimmy shakes it. If either of them linger, Jimmy tells himself it’s only because Tango is so warm. 

Jimmy walks away. With every step further he remembers that he’s a fugitive, and that he needs to go quickly, quietly, and carefully. On to the next town, and the next, and the next, until he’s run out of towns entirely and has made it to where the sky is blue and the horizon opens into forever. He looks back once, and sees Tango still standing there, waving. He looks back again, but now the door has closed, and Jimmy doesn’t know which window was Tango’s. The gifted boots squeeze gently at his toes.

His hands twitch with splinters as he reenters the market square, where the stalls have been folded up for the night and the street is empty. 

Only it’s not empty. The owner of the apple cart is despairing over the broken remains, picking through sharp shards of wood. He hisses and shakes out his hands. Jimmy grimaces. He tugs his hood lower and turns on his heel.

“Hey,” the man calls behind him. “Hey you!”

Jimmy walks faster.

“You! You’re the one who—stop, blast it! You owe me a new cart!”

“I really don’t, actually,” says Jimmy, dropping his voice two octaves. A hand grabs his shoulder. Jimmy’s wings protest, pushing back hard under the cloak. The hand is shaken off. So is his hood.

“It’s you,” the man says.

“No it isn’t,” says Jimmy.

“It is! You’re the canary! That reward could buy me a whole fleet of new carts.” He looks around wildly. 

“Please don’t,” says Jimmy, but the man is already hollering. 

“I’ve got him! I’ve got the canary, guards! Someone!”

Jimmy turns to run but the man seizes the back of his cloak. His hand closes on the arch of a wing, and Jimmy yelps.

“Hey! Let go of him!”

There’s the distinct, winding pain of a body shouldering hard into Jimmy's ribs. Then Tango is tackling the man to the ground.

Jimmy goes sprawling. He struggles to his knees through the phantom dings and scratches of two men wrestling on cobblestone. Behind him, Tango is fuming, “What the hell, man! He saved your life, what are you doing?” 

All along the street, lights are coming on. Doors are opening. Heads poking out. Eyes going wide. The town is folding in on him. Jimmy can’t breathe.

And Tango is above him, once again.

“Come on!”

He offers his hand. Jimmy takes it.

They run.

:

Grian and Joel would have come with him. 

If he’d asked. If he’d told them. Of course they would have. They would have protected him, taken care of him. They would have sighed and scoffed the entire time. They would have resented him, and made sure he knew exactly how much of an inconvenience this was, and didn’t he know he was upending all their lives, and why couldn’t Jimmy just do his job? He was always causing problems, and never considering the effect it had on others. 

The moment Jimmy revived on the cold marble of the throne room and realized he had to leave was the same moment he realized he couldn’t bring Joel and Grian with him. He couldn’t even tell them. They would have insisted on joining, whether Jimmy wanted them to or not. Whether they wanted to or not. They cared for him; they would risk implication and conspiracy for him. And they would never let him forget it.

He’ll never see them again. That hurts too much to think about, so he doesn’t. 

:

“I’ve ruined your life.” 

“You haven’t ruined my life, come on.”

“I have, I absolutely have. Your home—”

“My temporary home.”

“Your temporary home, your job, all your things. Poof! All gone, Tango! Because you helped me!” 

Tango is starfished flat on his back. Jimmy is making the ground’s acquaintance with his face. They fled down the darker road out of town, figuring they were less likely to be followed, and after an hour of hard running, they both pancaked in the dirt. Jimmy has too many cramps to name, and a doubled echo of Tango’s cramps on top of that. The stars above feel judgmental. Jimmy is glad to stare at hard-packed earth instead.

“Oh my gosh, you’re my accomplice now,” he moans. “They’re going to be looking for you too. Tango, your life is over, I’ve ruined it.”

A warm hand pats at Jimmy’s back with infinite, undeserved patience. “You didn’t ruin anything, buddy. I mean it! This is for the better, if you think about it.”

“For the better. Ha.” Jimmy spits out a little bit of dirt. “How?”

“Like you said, that place was temporary. My team will pick up my stuff, so I haven’t lost any of it. Well, except for what Bdubs will scavenge. That’s a given.” Tango waves a hand like being forced to abandon his entire life in the dead of night is hand-wavable. “And the good thing about working with your buds is that they’ll always have a job for you if you need it, so no harm there. Honestly, demolition was fun, but I’ve been thinking of trying something new for a while now.” 

“You’re a wanted man now. How are you going to go back? You’ll be arrested on sight.”

“Pshaw. One guy saw me help you.”

“The whole town saw you help me!”

“Hey, you’re the one they’re after, not me. By the time I get back, they’ll have completely forgotten I exist. Tango Tek who?”

Jimmy rolls his head to one side to give Tango a flat look. Tango is already looking back at him. He looks amused. That makes no sense.

“Okay, honesty time? I wanted to offer to go with you before,” Tango says. “Help you get wherever you’re going. But you seemed pretty jumpy, and I thought it would freak you out. Offer’s still on the table, though. I like traveling new places, seeing new things. Makes for good machination inspiration. And two is safer than one, right?”

“You don’t know me,” Jimmy says. His voice is weak. 

“I don’t know how many times I can say this, but you literally saved my life. That makes you a pretty cool guy in my book.” He looks Jimmy dead in the eye, and says simply, “You seem like you could use some help. I’d like to help.”

Jimmy believes him. In the back of his mind he can hear Joel and Grian taunting: just like Timmy to trust the first stranger he meets. Can’t ever hack it alone, can you, Tim? Probably he’s about to run off with some maniac bent on selling his curse to the highest bidder. Or an opportunist who intends to hold this favor over his head for the rest of his life. Would be just like him to get into hot water like that. Sure, it would be nice if there were someone out there who really wanted to help for the sake of helping, and it would be nice if doing so didn’t lead to resentment or blackmail or a direct ticket back to the castle. But that person is a fantasy. That person doesn’t exist.

But Jimmy believes him.

He sniffles. Some dust goes up his nose. “We don’t even have a torch.”

“Okay, you got me there,” Tango concedes. “We’ll need to get some supplies in the next town. Oh—here, this is yours.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Jimmy’s coin purse.

“It’s why I followed you. You left it in my apartment.”

Jimmy just gapes, so Tango plops the purse on his back. 

“Take your time,” he says, generously.

Jimmy does take his time. After a few long seconds of fish-mouthing, he says, “I hope you took some. I was going to bribe you into not giving me up.”

Tango snickers. “Darn. Missed my chance. Guess you’ll just have to buy our first meal instead.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. Even if Tango is being genuine, Jimmy is still a wanted man. Bringing him along could only put him in danger. Grian and Joel would be judging him so, so hard if they knew.

But Grian and Joel aren’t here.

“Deal,” Jimmy says.

Tango smiles. Jimmy dares to smile back.

Then Jimmy yelps at the ghost of sharp fangs sinking into his neck. “Ow ow ow—Tango, spider! Spider spider spider!”

“What spider where now—whoa!”

Jimmy yanks him up just as a spider the size of his torso skitters out of the forest, barely missing a lunge for Tango’s face. 

The spider chases them a full second hour until torches intersperse the road again. If this had happened yesterday—or even a few hours ago—Jimmy is sure he’d have burst into tears. 

But Tango makes this funny yelp-laugh sound when he screams, and when they finally reach safety, he cheers. Jimmy, despite himself, cheers too.

:

The next town is close enough to reach by afternoon the next day. They walk through the night and arrive exhausted, unwashed, hungry, and in better spirits than Jimmy expected. By a lot, actually. Turns out sharing misery halves it instead of doubling. Who knew?

Jimmy tries to keep a low profile while Tango goes to retrieve food and supplies. Waiting in an alley with nothing but his thoughts (and Grian and Joel’s imaginary advice), feeling equal parts conspicuous and insignificant, he half-expects Tango to return with guards. Maybe more than half. Even if it hadn’t all been a ruse to gain his trust and turn on him when most profitable, Jimmy finds it hard to believe Tango won’t come to regret his decision when he realizes what deadweight Jimmy is.

But all Tango returns with is two loaves of bread stuffed with roasted peppers and Jimmy’s exact change. He even managed to secure lodging. The innkeeper refused to give them a two-person room when she hadn’t vetted the second person, so Tango conceded to a single. Then he helps Jimmy climb through the window in the back. There’s a lot of flailing and scrambling and frantically beating wings, but once they’re through, Jimmy lays flat on the floor and stares up at the ceiling in wonder.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Jimmy says breathlessly. “You’re a genius.”

“Aw shucks.” The flame on Tango’s tail flares and puffs. “Thanks, man!”

They crowd onto the tiny bed and Jimmy is out as soon as his head hits the pillow. He wonders, as he falls asleep, if maybe Tango cut the innkeeper in, and he’ll wake to guards waiting to arrest him and Martyn laughing at him for thinking he got away, and Tango and the innkeeper splitting the reward money…

He wakes twelve hours later to Tango fiddling with some new redstone contraption. He sees Jimmy’s awake and says, “Morning, buddy!” Then he hands him a bowl of oats with fresh winter fruit, and a hot cup of spiced tea. 

:

In the next town, Tango sells his little redstone doohickey, and uses the money to pay for their meals. It’s only fair, he says. And when Jimmy protests that bankrolling the trip is the least he can do for all the help, Tango just laughs.

“Back with my crew, we split everything evenly,” he says. “Theoretically, anyway, when we weren’t enabling Etho’s spending habit and Bdubs wasn’t trying to weasel his way out of it. Regardless! We should be supporting each other equally. That’s what partners do, right?”

Partners. Jimmy doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, so he just nods. Partners. That sounds nice.

:

On the road, they talk about their people.

Skizz, Impulse, Bdubs, Etho—Tango’s demolition crew, a cast of colorful characters. “You’d like them. They’re good guys. Skizz especially, he’s my bestie. Nicest guy in the overworld.”

Tango has loads of stories, a broad range from heartwarming moments with Skizz to absurd adventures with Bdubs to wild tales of Etho that make Jimmy question whether he’s a real person or not.

“He soloed a wither once,” Tango declares proudly.

“No way.”

“He did.”

“No way! You’re lying.”

“Jimmy,” Tango gasps, scandalized. “Would I lie to you?”

Jimmy’s gut instinct, for some reason, is no. “No one can solo a wither.”

“Etho can. Though if you asked Bdubs, he’d tell you he soloed it. Now that’s a lie.”

Jimmy hums. Night is falling rapidly but the sky clings to a deep, dusty orange. Joel always says that means snow.

“Grian and Joel might be able to take down a wither together,” he says. “Especially if I was there to help them. Definitely not alone, though.”

“You talk about Grian and Joel a lot,” Tango says, a gentle invitation. 

“Oh, sure. I spent most of my life with those jerks. Don't really remember anything before I met Grian. I think I lived by the sea?” He daydreams sometimes about sparkling blue that stretches on forever. He’s not sure if it’s a memory or a dream. “But then I got saddled with Joel and Grian, and we kept each other alive. Or I kept them alive with my curse, not that they’d be caught dead saying thank you, no sir.” 

He chuckles, and thinks to stop there. But Tango is watching him and smiling. Jimmy snaps his eyes back to the sky. 

“I sort of grew out of my wings as I got older, can’t really fly with them, you know? But I could fly when I was a kid, and there I was, zooming through the trees, when bam! I get slapped in the face by some invisible brick wall, and that makes me bam! smack right into a tree. A second later, and bam! Grian smashes into a tree right next to me. Turns out he was flying behind me, saw me crash, and that made him crash, and his crash is what made me crash in the first place.” 

Tango laughs. “Feedback loop of pain, huh? That’s how you met?”

“Yep. Then we found Joel two years later, and that was that. Locked in with two bullies. We kept each other alive. Or I kept them alive with my curse, not that they’d be caught dead saying thank you, no sir! They’re my—” 

He almost says brothers. Thank goodness he didn’t. Even the thought of Grian and Joel’s ridicule makes his cheeks burn with shame. 

“They’re my roommates, kind of. Or they were, before I started working for Ren and living in the castle. They’re why I stuck around so long, actually.”

The way their jaws had dropped, the first time he gave them their cut. He’d had the thought: I can finally repay you. I can finally be of use.

“They were the first ones who called me a canary,” Jimmy says, brightening. “It was just a joke. An annoying one that I hated, but it was ours, so I didn’t really mind that much. Martyn heard it once, and he told Ren, and, well.” He stares hard at the orange sky. “Kind of got overdone, after that.”

“Yeah,” Tango says. When Jimmy glances over, his smile is a little dim. “I bet it would.”

He seems glum. Jimmy doesn't like that. "You know, Joel has a curse too. Turns into a big monster at night. Needs true love's kiss to break it, the whole thing."

"Yeah?" Tango perks up. "What kind of monster?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jimmy says breezily.

Tango's grinning again. Thank goodness. "Try me."

:

Money was always tight, when it was just the three of them. Jimmy minded, of course, though not as much as Joel and Grian did. Privately he liked that it was them against the world. The worst part, to him, were the nights they had to split a thin serving of broth and Grian and Joel were in foul enough moods to needle Jimmy for not pulling his weight.

Still, they made ends meet. And there at the end, they were even doing well. Jimmy can confidently say that Grian’s the best architect in the kingdom, and his reputation was only ever growing. He was commissioned by some nobles in the capital. This is the one, boys, this one changes everything, Grian would say, over and over, and Joel would grumble, it blummin’ better be, how much you keep banging on about it, but he’d catch Grian and Jimmy in headlocks and knuckle at their hair, so he was excited too.

They got to the capital. It was bigger and busier than any place Jimmy had ever been, built into the shadow of the king’s castle. While he worked, Joel took up odd jobs throughout the city. He was hired to clear out a nest of phantoms that was terrorizing the outer districts. He let Jimmy tag along.

Jimmy felt the death coming up on him. Claws raking his back, tearing his throat. He swung around, looking for Joel, and saw a king’s guard instead. He was bleeding and exhausted. Jimmy tackled him out of reach of a phantom’s talons; somewhere in the distance Joel screamed Timmy!; before the pain had a chance to fade, Jimmy shuddered. Jimmy died.

Jimmy un-died in the castle. Joel and Grian were nowhere to be seen. Instead there was the king’s guard, who was actually the king’s hand, who was actually Martyn.

Your whole life’s about to turn around, mate, Martyn said. You’re welcome.

:

“Why didn’t you turn me in?” 

He manages to rein the question back three more days, until it pops free on the road. It’s started to snow, just a handful of delicate flakes that Tango tries to catch in his mouth. He’s looking at Jimmy, frozen, with big eyes and a pointed tongue poking out of his mouth.

The question is still as ill-advised as it would have been on day one. He’s sure Grian would think so. Why would you bother putting the idea in his head, he would say, why push it? Grian is smart about things like this, keeps his cards close to the vest. Joel is more forward, likes to know things upfront, doesn’t mind being confrontational about it. But Joel wins fights that Jimmy doesn’t. He’d say it’s plain stupid.

Tango doesn’t say it’s stupid. He says, “Yeah, that’s fair. I’d want to know too.”

It makes Jimmy feel almost reasonable for asking. Tango wipes his mouth and kicks thoughtfully at the road. 

He says, “I’ve got no loyalty to the king. Nothing against the guy, I’ve heard some good things, but I’m netherborn, right? And I barely feel any national pride there, so not much obligation here.” 

“There’s a reward,” Jimmy points out. Imaginary Joel and Grian groan in frustration.

Tango’s eyes narrow skeptically. “Sure, but you didn’t commit a crime, did you? Unless I read that article wrong. Seems to me you just left your job. You should get to quit like anyone else. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

He says it so simply. Just as simply as Jimmy thought it was.

“I mean,” Jimmy says, “I did steal some bread.”

Tango barks a laugh. “Well, now I have to turn you in. Moral obligation.”

Jimmy nods solemnly. “It’s only right. Clap me in irons, throw away the key.”

Tango keeps laughing. His nose scrunches with it. Jimmy feels a little silly for being so proud. He’s made loads of people laugh before, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s usually the butt of the joke instead of the one making it.

He likes making Tango laugh. It’s a nice laugh.

It doesn’t snow much longer, but they spend the time counting who can catch more snowflakes on their tongue. Jimmy wins by one.

:

“Here,” Jimmy pushes one horn into Tango’s hands. He’s so excited. 

Tango turns it over, as confused as intrigued. “Is this an animal horn? Where did you get this?”

“Just now, when I went to the bathroom! There was a goat out there, it tried to kill me—”

“What—”

“Honestly it shouldn’t even be here, Grian says they only live in the mountains. But it missed, and it broke its horns off against a tree trunk.”

“Wow.” Tango admires the color and the shine, the smooth break and the grooves in the dark keratin. “It’s so cool.”

“It gets cooler.” Jimmy lifts his horn to his lips. A sweet note carries, and a flock of birds take to the sky. Tango’s jaw is on the floor. 

“How’d you do that?”

“Grian knew how, and he showed me and Joel,” he says. “I thought if we were separated, or lost, or see a threat or something, we could blow this to find each other.”

Tango’s eyes are shining. “That’s an awesome idea. Can you show me?”

:

Not every town can be reached in one hard day’s walk. Sometimes they have to camp out on the road, laying out bedrolls and building fires to keep winter at bay. Tonight it’s cold enough that Tango gives Jimmy his extra bedding; he’s netherborn, he says, so he doesn’t need as much to keep warm. They keep the fire high and scoot the bedrolls close, talking too late into the night. And Jimmy just…tells him.

“You’re going to build a ranch?” Tango asks. 

He sounds surprised. He probably looks surprised, not that Jimmy would know, since he’s having trouble looking at him.

The ranch isn’t something he likes to talk about. Every time he says it out loud, it sounds sillier, so he tries to keep it tucked safe and close behind his heart. He mentioned it to Joel and Grian once, though he’s sure they don’t remember it. Why would they? They’d been so dismissive at the time. There aren’t enough riches in the world that could convince me to sell you a farm, let alone teach you how to run it, Grian had sneered. Joel pointed out that even if there were, no one in their right mind would stick around once they realized what a slow study Jimmy was. Jimmy felt small, and he never mentioned it again.

With Tango, he told him only as much as he needed to. They were heading out of the forest biome and into the plains, where the land unfurled into smooth, rolling prairies and burst with sunflowers. The logic was sound enough on the surface: Ren’s borders ended with the biome, and with one step past Jimmy would be free and clear. Tango was just glad to visit somewhere he’d never been before. He didn’t ask further questions, and Jimmy didn’t offer further answers.

But they’ve been traveling together for weeks, now. Tango has never made Jimmy feel small. 

“I’m not planning on building one, exactly,” Jimmy mumbles. He busies his hands by sitting up and thrusting his hands at the fire. A talent of Tango’s: he can build a beautiful fire in three minutes flat. “Grian’s a way better builder than I am. I’m just hoping to buy it off of someone. Something small, if the owner was already hoping to retire or something. And then I’ll pay them extra to stay on a little while and teach me how to run things.”

Tango sits up too. “That’s an awesome idea.”

Jimmy’s head snaps up. “Really?”

“Yeah, man! Way better to admit when you need help than to crash and burn just because you tried to tough it out alone. Keeping the old rancher on until you’ve got the hang of it is smart.”

Tango looks genuinely impressed. He looks admiring. Jimmy’s wings start to flutter. 

“Do you know anything about running a ranch?” Tango asks. He doesn’t sound accusing like Joel, or mocking like Grian. Just curious.

“Not really,” Jimmy admits. “But I’m pretty good with animals, and I don’t mind hard work. It might take me a while to get the hang of something, but I’ll stick with it until I do.”

“That’s great,” Tango says earnestly. “I think it’s way more useful to be able to stick to something than to be good at it right away.”

One of Joel and Grian’s favorite pastimes was poking fun of Jimmy until he shouted and flustered, and then laughing at how splotchy he got. They said he looked like he had a rash. He hopes he’s not as pink as he feels now. “Thanks,” he says again.

Tango leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright. “What kind of animals will you have?”

Jimmy hums. “Chickens, for sure. Lots of cows. A couple goats, I think. Maybe a warden?”

Tango’s laugh is surprised and delighted. “A warden?”

“Yeah. I was thinking like—if I could train it, then maybe it could use it’s sonic thing to round up the herd. Is that weird?”

“No, I love it! Wardens are so cool, and we know so little about them. Plus they’re kind of cute, in a scary monster way.”

Jimmy beams. “Exactly! Tango, I could not possibly agree more.”

“You’d have to bring that one up from the underdark yourself,” Tango says thoughtfully. He lights up like a firefly. “I could help you! I bet I could think of a way to get it safely to the surface.”

“You definitely could, that’s not even a question. You’re brilliant.”

Tango’s eyes go ruby round. Jimmy’s mouth opens and shuts. Should he take it back? He should take it back. 

But Tango just smiles, broad and lopsided. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“You’re—” Jimmy’s voice cracks. God damn it. “You’re welcome, Tango.”

They stare at each other. Tango says, “You have frost in your eyelashes.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Huh?”

“You have—” Tango clears his throat. “You know, because it’s so cold. It doesn’t happen to me because I run too hot, so I just, uh. I noticed.”

“Oh,” says Jimmy.

Tango nods, pink at the ears. He turns quickly to the fire, stoking it with a few deliberate pokes of his fingers, then says a little too loud, “I’d love to make some mazes for your animals. The warden especially. Obstacle course type things, you know, for enrichment.”

They're just daydreaming. Jimmy knows that. But he wants it. It’s a little too revealing, how much he wants it. 

He wraps his arms around his knees and rests his chin on them. “Yeah? Like what?”

:

The good news is that they’re getting closer to the border, if Jimmy’s map is to be believed. The bad news is that they misjudge the distance to the next town and run out of food a full three days before they get there. Tango slaps together ingenius redstone traps to catch hares that tide them over, but that doesn’t stop them from ordering two full stews each when they finally come upon a tavern, nor does it stop them from hunkering down right outside the building and inhaling the stew in companionable, ravenous silence. 

Deep into the second bowl, Tango giggles, “Oh no, we’re pathetic.”

Jimmy thinks that yeah, they kind of are. He thinks, maybe, he doesn’t mind being pathetic with Tango.

:

Working for the king wasn’t so bad. It really wasn’t. 

On his good days Ren was generous, kind, goofy and forgiving. He cared about his subjects’ problems and pushed for the industrialization that improved quality of life throughout the kingdom. He treated Jimmy like a subject instead of an equal, but like a subject he was respectful of. Most of the time. Half the time.

The issue was that, the other half the time, he stopped being the good King Ren and started being the Red King. Vicious and uncompromising. A nose for weakness and for bloodshed. Jimmy suspects it’s a curse, though it’s clear he’s not eager to break it. He makes lots of enemies, the Red King does. Jimmy knows that better than anyone. Once he died impaled on a traitorous guard’s spear. When he came to, curled around a wound that wasn’t there, Martyn was beheading the would-be assassin three feet away, the spear was cracked in half at the foot of the throne, and the Red King was howling with laughter. 

Never look him in the eye, when he’s like that. Never expect an apology. Never expect to be free.

But reiterate how generous he was. Happy to pay for Jimmy’s services, and provide him with safety, food, comfort. On Jimmy’s first day he said, The crown appreciates your service, lad. You have been touched by divinity to prove our birthright by providence, and for this we shall be gracious. How might we show our appreciation? No price is too high for the king.

Jimmy is still surprised he managed to stop quaking long enough to request a stipend for his family. (Family sounded more sympathetic than roommates, he figured. He was glad Joel and Grian weren’t around to hear.) 

Martyn looked annoyed by the request, imposing at the king’s right side, and Jimmy tried to clarify, something modest, please, but Ren didn’t hesitate. The first payment was enough to set the three of them up for life, if they were scrupulous. The second payment ensured they could live comfortably without having to work another day ever again. The third payment was excess, and it never stopped. Grian and Joel were overjoyed. 

Tango is frowning. It’s a strange look on his narrow face. Jimmy has rarely seen him without a smile.

“I guess that’s generous,” he says, slowly.

“It was,” Jimmy insists. He fingers the leather pouch weighed down by his earnings. More than enough to get him where he’s going and then some. The Red King may be waiting to kill him for abandoning his post, but Jimmy can’t deny that the only reason he has any chance at all is because of his kindness.

“Right. Right.” Tango scrubs a hand through his hair—it sends sparks flying off the ends. Jimmy watches them swirl with the snow, and then he watches Tango’s mouth purse as he makes funny humming and scoffing sounds. Jimmy looks back at the sparks again with renewed focus.

“It’s just,” Tango blurts, “You didn’t really have a choice, right? I guess it was nice that he paid you, but you weren’t allowed to say no to the job offer, because it wasn’t really an offer. And obviously you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. “I guess. What’s your point?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think you should be defending him, is all. He forced you to hurt for him. He didn’t give you a choice. You shouldn’t have to be grateful.” 

His eyes are fierce. Striking, hot like live coals. The sharp angles of him look harsh in a way that Jimmy’s never seen before. He doesn’t know what to say. 

The indignance goes out of Tango’s shoulders. His tail curls. “Sorry. Not my place.”

Jimmy thinks of agreeing with him. Instead he says, “Don’t be. That’s nice of you to say. Thanks.”

Tango smiles, but it doesn’t have the spark it usually does. They walk for a few more hours. Tango’s silence is uncharacteristic, and it makes Jimmy antsy. He feels like he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Eventually they decide to take a break before the next leg. Not for long, if they want to sleep in beds tonight, but it’s good to get off their feet for a little while. Jimmy nibbles at some jerky and sips at his waterskin. The only downside to the break is how the winter reasserts itself. He very carefully does not wince at the cold water that needles down his throat.

“Here,” says Tango. 

He holds out his hand for the waterskin. Jimmy gives it to him, though he knows he has his own. Tango clasps it firmly between both hands, and after a moment, hands it back. Steam puffs cheerily from the top. The next sip Jimmy takes is hot enough to make him shiver. 

“Thank you,” he sighs. He takes another scalding gulp and shuts his eyes to focus on the warmth as it flushes through his chest and belly. “You’re amazing, Tango.”

Tango says, “You know, I worked in a coal mine.” 

It catches Jimmy off guard. “You did?”

“Yeah, for about a year. They hired me as an engineer, to make things safer and more efficient. Not an easy balance, but a fun challenge.” Tango licks his lips, then says, “I actually worked with canaries. Designed an apparatus that resuscitated them when they passed out.”

“You did?” Jimmy says again. Broken record, Joel would say. Jimmy can’t be bothered to care. His chest is winding tight.

“Yeah.” There’s something off about Tango’s face, his voice. He looks a little earnest. He looks sad. “The owners of the mines weren’t too interested, but the miners themselves, they took as many as I could make. We all loved the little guys. Didn’t want to see them get hurt.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says. “That’s really cool.”

It’s a silly thing to cry over, so he doesn’t. He does indulge in a moment of bravery and reach out to hold Tango’s hand in his. Tango just runs his thumb over Jimmy’s knuckles, over and over. He doesn’t let go, even when they make it to town and a room and a bed.  

When Jimmy wakes the next morning, Tango is still holding his hand.

:

“Tango!”

Tango jumps up with a start, sending the wood for their fire pit scattering. “What! What’s up? Are we running?”

“No no no—” Jimmy skids to a stop in front of him, wings flaring for balance. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “That caravan we just passed. There was an old woman in the last cart, did you see her?”

Tango, gathering the sticks back up again, gives him a quizzical look. “Yeah?”

“Right, well, she had a thorn in her foot, I could feel it, and I figured she wouldn’t recognize me because she could barely see. So we got to talking, and I took the thorn out—bunions the size of mountains, man, I’m telling you—and look! Look what she gave me!”

He sweeps his hands out from behind his back. The green glass bottles slosh and clink together. Tango’s jaw drops.

“Ohmygosh, is that—is that wine? Jimmy! That’s wine! You’re amazing!”

Jimmy laughs, triumphant. “I know! I’m amazing!”

They jump up and down for a while. 

“Okay okay okay, we should be smart about this,” Tango says. He stops jumping but keeps flapping his hands. “If we’re careful, I bet we could make these last the rest of the trip.”

Jimmy nods rapidly. He’s already removed the stopper on the first bottle. “Right. Just a couple sips a night, to warm us up.”

He takes a swig, then hands the bottle to Tango. “Right! Just a night cap. We’ll play it smart.”

:

“Can you?” Jimmy asks, deep into the second bottle of wine.

Tango has been giggling for the past hour, this funny consonant sound like an ignition clicking. The more they drank the bigger he built the fire pit, until the flames roared higher than they are tall, but Tango is happy, so Jimmy is happy. “Absolutely! Can I what?” 

“Tango, Tango. Can you tango?”

Tango’s face is flushed. The pink clashes with the red of his eyes and the amber of the fire. Jimmy thinks it’s lovely. “Can I what?”

“Don’t laugh, this is an important question!” Jimmy is giggling too now. “I’ve wanted to ask you since we met. Do you actually know how to tango?”

“Jimmy.” Tango lifts his chin, expression sloppily stern. “What kind of question is that? Of course I know how to tango.”

Tango does not, in fact, know how to tango. They dance anyway, spinning and dipping and swinging each other in circles. They make flagrant and frankly ugly use of their horns. Tango nearly throws Jimmy into the fire by accident and then fishes him out at the last second. In return, Jimmy tries to lead Tango in a waltz he barely learned at the castle. They laugh so hard they stomp on each other’s feet.

They dance and dance and dance until they spin out of the safety of the firelight and get attacked by a skeleton. Then they stumble back to the fire and dance some more.

:

THE KING’S CANARY AND HIS COAL MINE?

“Is this kind of racist?” Jimmy asks. “It feels kind of racist. They’re calling you a whole coal mine.”

Jimmy and Tango squint together at the newspaper that nearly got them caught. Tango’s involvement has finally been noticed. His attempt to get them lodging for the night was met with guards and a frantic escape into the forest, where they crouched beneath a rotted old log until their legs fell asleep and their pursuers moved on. Then Tango pulled out the flier he’d grabbed in his haste.

He pokes at a short paragraph detailing his life. Well. His work history, mostly. “I think maybe it’s a reference to the fact that I used to work in a coal mine. I’m surprised they knew that.”

“Still feels kinda racist,” Jimmy says, then sighs. “I’m sorry, Tango. I knew you’d get caught up in my nonsense eventually, and it’s finally happened.”

Tango snorts. “I think I’ve been caught up in your nonsense for a while now, partner. This is like recognition for all my hard work! It’s kinda cool being on a wanted poster, huh? None of the other guys have bounties on their heads, not even Bdubs. I can’t wait to see their faces.” He prods Jimmy with a pointy elbow. “Guess we really are partners in crime now, huh?” 

Jimmy knows he should feel guilty. But Tango is smirking at him, like they’re sharing a secret, and Jimmy banks the warmth of it in his chest like like something to be hoarded and adored. “Guess so.”

Tango’s name in the papers means they have to avoid towns and main roads. Meaning, in turn, that the safest option is to just keep to the forest.

This is fine in the daylight. Exciting, even! Jimmy always marvels at how Tango keeps their energy up. Cutting through the forest is more direct than the roads, anyway. It’s a bit of a struggle, but they’re making good time.

Then night falls, and suddenly it’s mobs mobs mobs, and Jimmy is shrieking and fighting with creepers and zombies and spiders while Tango is scrambling to find a clearing and build a fire big enough to ward them off. Somehow, they manage, after many scrapes and bruises, but winter is only ever deepening. The cold reaches into Jimmy’s bones. All of his joints ache, and even with the fire beside them and all of Tango’s extra bedding he shakes so hard he can’t sleep. He tries to keep his teeth chattering to a minimum.

“Jimmy,” Tango whispers from the next bedroll. Jimmy cracks his eyes open. From one side Tango is lit up in gold, but from the other the moon bleaches all his warm hues blue. “Jim?”

Jimmy does not let himself stutter. “Yeah, Tango?”

“You’re still shivering.”

“Um. Yeah. I guess I am. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Jimmy falters. “You already gave me all your blankets. I—I keep putting you out.”

“You’re not putting me out. Don’t think that.” 

His hand brushes Jimmy’s cheek. Jimmy sees it coming and still he jumps at the first brush of warm thin fingers.

“You’re freezing,” Tango says, brow screwing into a knot. He bites at his lips, his eyes wide and worried. Moonlight glints off the points of his teeth. “Okay, so—I run hot. Blaze hybrid and all. If you’re up for it, I think it would help a lot if—if I get in there with you? Insulation and body heat and stuff.”

Oh, Jimmy won’t freeze to death at all. His face is on fire. “You don’t have to, Tango.”

“I want to,” Tango blurts, a few sparks flaring off the ends of his hair. Then he subsides, fidgety and shy. “If you want to, I mean.”

“I want to,” Jimmy says. “That could—that might be nice. Thanks, Tango.”

Tango’s shoulders sag in relief. His smile is toothy and painfully awkward. “Okay. Cool. I’ll just, uh—wriggle on in then. Incoming.” 

Jimmy snorts. Tension, miraculously, dissipates. Tango does wriggle in, and when he’s done wriggling, he tucks the blankets under him to insulate the heat. The difference is instant, cocooning Jimmy in warmth so profound it practically tranquilizes him, eyelids suddenly heavier than bricks. He knows he should be embarrassed. Gratitude and affection drowns it out.

“Is that better?” Tango asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Okay, good.”

His arm rests gingerly across Jimmy’s shoulders. Already half asleep, Jimmy nudges into the narrow cage of his body. His sternum is hard and Jimmy’s nose thaws against it. "Thanks, Tango." 

Tango’s arm relaxes. The world smells of spiced tea. "Always, Jimmy."

Jimmy sleeps better that night than all the many nights he’s spent on the road thus far. Better than any night in the castle. Better than he has in a long time.

:

They’re less than a day’s travel from the border when the snowstorm hits. While the sun is up Tango and Jimmy trudge and trudge and lob snowballs at each other, and when the sun is down they’re forced to cobble together some sort of shelter. Eventually Tango rigs up something droopy and wet that does nothing to keep out the cold but at least will keep them from being buried alive. 

“Oh my god, it’s awful,” Tango laughs.

“Shut up, it’s amazing,” Jimmy says, because it is.

They drink the very last of the wine and then hold each other close for the rest of the night. For the first time since Jimmy met him, Tango shivers. Jimmy holds him hard and tries his best to rub warmth into his back.

And then Jimmy gets caught.

:

It’s his own fault. Of course it is. It always is.

The snow has stopped by morning, but Tango is still shivering. His golden hair is just hair, no sparks or flames at all. His tail is barely a smoldering ember.

“I’m fine,” he assures Jimmy though cracked blue lips. “It’s just a cold, it’ll pass. Not so good in the rain and snow, is all. I’ll be right as rain in no time, don’t even w-worry about it.”

Jimmy does worry. The only food they have left is hardtack, and the only water is freezing cold. Tango’s so weak that he can't even heat it. “There’s a town near here. You rest, I’ll keep my head down and get you something warm to eat.”

“Don’t,” Tango says, but any sternness is undercut by his trembling. “I’m telling you, I’ll be fine. If we get going now we’ll make it to the border before sundown. I’m serious, Jimmy, don’t.”

“I won’t go,” Jimmy lies. “Rest anyway. One nap to regain your strength won’t kill us.”

It takes some convincing, but eventually Tango agrees, and drops off nearly as soon as Jimmy cards a hand through his hair. Then he tucks Tango in, builds the fire as high as is safe, and hikes through the snow to the nearest village.

When he gets there, the townsfolk are too busy digging themselves out to really spare him a second glance. Notably, he doesn’t see a single paper with his name on it, not even in the tavern. He keeps his head down anyway, he’s careful, and he doesn’t whoop with joy when the tavernkeeper says they serve blaze powder soup, no matter how badly he wants to. 

As soon as the town is at his back he sheds his cloak to wrap up the bowl and keep the heat in. A little sloshes over the side, but not much. In minutes his spine is aching and his muscles are seizing with cold, but it’s fine. Tango isn’t far. 

He doesn’t see the club coming at all. Suddenly his head is cracking open, and his teeth are rattling in his skull, and starbursts are blotting out his vision and he’s on the ground, in the snow. 

There are men. There are ropes. Jimmy blinks sluggishly and stares at the soup, splattered and steaming, and thinks, but that was meant for Tango; what will Tango have to warm him now? And he thinks, I’ll have to get free, so I can get more.

Darkness pulls him under.

:

“For the last time,” says the mercenary. “Where’s that coal mine attached to your hip?”

He’s one of five. Jimmy doesn’t know which one; they all look the same, even a week out, with the same rough beards and ugly laughter and bad humor. He might be able to discern them if he ever looked at their faces for more than a second at a time, but he refuses to do that, even when they yank on the rope slowly skinning his wrists and grab his chin and sneer inches from his face.

“For the last time,” Jimmy says back. “I wasn’t traveling with anyone.”

The man growls. Jimmy’s wanted poster is shoved in his face. It’s old, the ink smudged and barely legible.

“Bullshit. It says right here, coal mine. We want that reward, canary, and we’ll have it.”

“The paper’s wrong,” Jimmy snaps. “But kudos, you know, for being able to read. You don’t look the type.”

The back of his hand splits Jimmy’s mouth open. Blood speckles the snow in bright ruby droplets. The earth spins and Jimmy starts to list toward it until a meaty hand throttles his collar and brings him nose to nose. Jimmy looks sharply to the side.

“Watch yourself, canary. Mouth off like that again and I’ll skewer and roast you over this fire.”

It’s a bad fire, objectively. Tango’s are better by far. Jimmy shouldn’t say so, but he’s going to, because he’s angry. When he woke up and realized what had happened, he was angry. The next day he was angrier. And the day after that he was angrier still. He keeps expecting himself to cower, but his fury won’t let him. He’s angrier than he’s ever been in his life. He’s angry at the mercenaries, and at Ren and Martyn. He’s angry at Joel and Grian and his curse and the world and himself. He’s so sick of fear and sadness and hurt. The hurt won’t ever stop but he can get rid of the others. He can spit in this man’s face and damn the consequences. It’s not like he hasn’t died before.

Jimmy opens his mouth but all that comes out is a grunt of pain, echoed by the mercenary when another one comes and kicks him in the hip.

“No, you fuckin’ won’t. Reward’s only if we bring him in alive. You kill him, I kill you.”

Around the pitiful fire the other mercs guffaw in unison. The first man growls, gives Jimmy a shake like a dog with a rabbit, and then throws him aside. 

“Reward don’t say nothin’ about roughing you up,” the man says. His boot digs into Jimmy’s stomach. Jimmy glares down at the snow and dirt and blood and doesn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out.

They try to get Tango’s whereabouts out of him for a while longer, but eventually grow bored with his silence. After a short debate they toss Jimmy the bones of their dinner. Jimmy ignores it.

In the dead of night, when most of the mercenaries are sleeping except the one on watch, Jimmy thinks he can hear the musical call of a horn in the distance. He thinks he must be dreaming. 

:

At the end of the second week, the mercs get drunk. More drunk than any other night. At first Jimmy thinks this might be an opportunity for escape.

They drink more. They get reckless. Jimmy thinks, oh, this is bad. He’s right.

All they do at first is taunt him. Shove him around a little. A few more bottles in and they come up with a quick, admittedly creative game involving Jimmy’s curse. One mercenary grabs a rock and has the others stand around him in a loose circle. Jimmy is forced to stand in the center as well, and as the man with the rock turns slowly, threatening each of his friends one by one, the other merc watch Jimmy for his reaction. When Jimmy flinches at a strike to the shoulder or hip or face, the mercenaries try to dive out of the way of the hit they know is coming.

They do this for an hour. Jimmy is barely standing by the end of it. He doesn’t cry out once.

He doesn’t cry out, either, as they drag him to a tree and tie him to the trunk. Drunk fingers make poor knots. He could get out of this, he thinks. If he could just get his feet under him. If he could just make his hands work and his vision stop swimming.

The mercenaries are speaking to him. Words register on delay. 

“Can the canary sing for himself?” one mercenary slurs. “Let’s find out!”

“It won’t work,” Jimmy mutters. His curse has never worked on himself. They don’t hear him.

One pulls a crossbow, and takes too long fumbling a bolt in. The others egg him on. “If you kill our reward, I’ll take it out of your hide,” one of them says, but doesn’t stop him.

“Stop distracting me,” says the man with the crossbow. He takes wavering aim. “I’ll jus’ knick his arm.”

Jimmy stares down the stock. He thinks about all the time Joel and Grian have ever laughed at him. He thinks of all the times Joel and Grian have ever made him laugh. He thinks of Tango, and the fragrance of spiced tea. He wonders if dying for real will feel like every other time he’s died. 

A bolt slots neat and sharp between his ribs, and Jimmy thinks, yes, this hurts just as much as every other time.

The pain is blinding. He died to an assassin’s arrow once, choking on blood that both was and wasn’t flooding his lungs. It took ages. He hopes this is quicker. He can’t catch his breath. His head hangs and tears press from his eyes. For a second his vision clears.

There’s nothing there.

His head snaps up. The mercenary is still taking aim.

He shouts, “Tango, don’t—” 

An inferno consumes the camp, and Jimmy’s vision sears to colorless white. 

The mercenaries are screaming. A fire is roaring. Someone cuts Jimmy free, but he doesn’t see who. He can’t see anything. Pain comes in from everywhere, too much to separate. He’s burning and he’s bruising and he’s coming apart. All of it coalesces, all of it becomes the one lancing bolt that isn’t in his ribs. He can’t think of anything else. He can’t think at all. 

“Tango,” he chokes. “Tango—”

His vision starts to go. No. He can’t die, not to this. If he dies, then that means Tango—

If Jimmy could lift his head, he’d see the forest on fire, and the mercenaries burning alive. He’d see Tango’s heaving back, bright as a star, and he’d see him turning back to find him, a hand pressed to the wound in his side.

Jimmy does not see. Jimmy is dead.

:

First, Jimmy stops being dead. Then he’s sleeping. In some starry, dreamless place, he grieves. Then he wakes up. 

The first thing he notes is the ornate ceiling, a mural to Ren’s magnificence. Various takes on this same theme are painted in every room of the castle, so it's pretty obvious where he is. Either he was dead much longer than he's ever been or some other mode of transportation cut the travel time down to a fraction. Maybe both.

The next thing he notes is Grian and Joel standing over him. That explains that--Grian probably flew him here. They stood over him like this the first time he died, too. An old man had had a heart attack nearby, though they didn’t know it then. Jimmy was dead, and then he wasn’t, and then he was staring at Grian’s face, a thousand miles away, and Joel beside him, blubbering into his hands. When they realized he was alive they screamed. 

They don’t scream this time, and they aren't crying. They look like they might have been, though. Their eyes are rimmed with red.

“Look who’s awake,” Grian says. His wings are poorly groomed and his smirk doesn’t look half as shit-eating as it usually does. He nudges Joel in the side. “Go get him, Joel.”

Joel glares. “Why me? You go get him!”

They argue about it for a minute, though Jimmy is too muddled by death to follow. Who are they fighting about getting? Ren? Martyn?

He settles back into his pillows. It doesn’t matter, does it?

Grian wins, eventually, much to Joel’s chagrin. He turns his glare on Jimmy, as he usually does. Jimmy expects to be noogied or boxed around the ears. Instead Joel hooks an arm under his neck and butts their foreheads together. 

“If you ever scare me like that again,” he says, and sniffles hard, “I’ll bloomin’ kill you, you hear me?”

He huffs and grumbles his way out of the room. Jimmy watches him go. He turns his attention to Grian.

Grian waves a little. “Hi, Tim.”

“Hi, Grian,” Jimmy says, and he bursts into tears.

Grian holds him. “There there, you big baby,” he says, and pats his back gently. 

Tango is gone, Jimmy tries to say. He tries to say, I’m sorry you had to save me again, I’m glad to see you, Tango’s gone. Tango’s gone.

Instead he cries and snuffs and gets snot all over Grian’s red sweater. Somehow, Grian lets him. He pushes at Jimmy until he scoots over on the bed. There’s more than enough room for them both; the beds in the castle are bigger and softer than any he shared with Tango on the road. That thought sets him wailing again. Grian chirps at him, sits him up until Jimmy’s slumped in the center of the bed and Grian can sit comfortably behind him, picking through his wings while he hiccups and sobs and shakes.

The tears don’t stop, but eventually they quiet. Various saline fluids drip silently down his face while Grian preens him. 

Grian says, “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to leave, Timmy?”

Jimmy’s breath shudders out of him. “You—you would have come with me.”

“Obviously.”

Jimmy can hear Grian’s eye-roll in his voice. He bites the inside of his cheek. “…You would have made me feel bad about it. I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

Grian’s practiced fingers twitch to a stop deep in his feathers. He huffs, withdraws his hands, then closes them firmly on Jimmy’s shoulders and turns him in place.

“You ruin my life every day, Timmy,” Grian says. He's frowning, but he meets Jimmy's eyes with determination. “But so does Joel. And I ruin yours and his too. We're all messing with each other, all the time. That’s how it’s meant to be, or we wouldn’t be—we wouldn’t be—”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. Grian’s face falls into relief.

“We went after you anyway, you understand?” he says, gentler than before. “It was a lot of work, but we’d do it again. And we’d only make fun of you a little. So next time, just take us with you, save us the trouble.”

“Okay.” Jimmy’s eyes swell up again. “Okay.” Then he says, “I met someone.”

“I know. We were tracking you both. We found him first, then he helped us find you.” Grian pulls his sleeves down over his hands to wipe carefully at Jimmy’s face. More tears take the place of the last.

Jimmy can barely get the words out. “He’s gone, Grian. I don’t, I can’t—he’s gone.”

Grian’s eyebrows fly into his hair. “What?”

The door opens. Joel staggers in, supporting a wild-eyed Tango. His hair is a mess, singed at the tips. His slim chest is a cocoon of white bandaging. He is very much not dead.

“Jimmy!” 

Tango breaks free despite Joel’s protest. He launches at Jimmy and immediately falls flat on his face. Jimmy feels it first.

Jimmy screams a little. Then he lurches out of Grian’s grasp and straight off the side of the bed. 

“You’re—you’re alive! Tango, you’re alive!”

“I’m alive? You’re alive!” Tango springs up. His nose is bleeding. His hands are warm on Jimmy’s arms, helping him up, then on his face. The calloused pads of his fingers, the chips of his claws, the warmth of him. Alive. “I can’t believe you went to town like that, I told you not to, ooohhh, I’m so mad I could kiss you—”

“You’re alive,” Jimmy is sobbing. “You’re alive.”

Tango’s mouth wobbles, then purses, then wobbles some more. That makes no sense. What reason does he have to cry?

He pulls Jimmy into his chest. Every awkward angle and sharp jut of bone digs into him, and Jimmy only holds closer, tighter. 

“I thought I lost you,” Tango says. His voice cracks. “I thought I’d never see you again. When I saw what those bastards did to you, I lost my mind. I could have burned the whole forest down. I could have killed them all.”

“You did kill them,” Grian says flatly. “Like, all of them. Barely left any for me and Joel. Rude.” 

"I hurt you," Tango says. His arms around Jimmy stop holding so tight, which won't do. "When I burned them, I hurt you. You died for me, again. I'm so sorry."

"I don't care about that. I come back to life, Tango, you don't. You—" He pushes Tango back by the shoulders, feels his heart break at the sight of the bandages. "Oh my god, you did get shot. I knew it. You can’t do that again, not ever.”

Tango makes a clucking, clicking noise. Through the panic, Jimmy thinks: I missed your silly noises. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do my best to not get shot again.”

He’s smiling. It’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. He's alive.

Tango taps their foreheads together. Jimmy’s eyes flutter shut. His nose is clogged, but he fights for a deep breath anyway. Just one breath of that spark and spice. Just one more. Just one more.

“Also I’m here,” Joel says loudly. “If anyone cares.”

Jimmy ignores him.

:

Jimmy is on the road again. The air is cold but not bitter. The snow is finally starting to thaw.

Grian and Joel filled him in on what happened to his bounty. Turns out as soon as they learned that he fled, they went to appeal to the king on his behalf. Predictably, the king ignored them. Joel and Grian are not to be ignored, as Jimmy knows better than anyone.

After weeks of dedicated campaigning and psychological warfare, in which they managed to turn the whole capital city against its monarch, the Red King gave way to King Ren. King Ren remembered that actually he liked that funny little canary guy, and didn’t think it was all that groovy to hold him against his will. The bounty was lifted, a retraction was printed, and Grian and Joel took off after Jimmy. Instead they found Tango fuming in the snow. The mercenaries were acting on a bounty that wasn't even live anymore.

Jimmy isn’t ready to believe any of it until Martyn, grudgingly, hands him a severance package in the form of several bags of gold, the reins to a genuinely massive horse, and an official pardon with the king’s signature and seal. Ren calls Jimmy dude in it.

“What are you going to call him?” Tango asks.

“Norman, I think,” Jimmy says. Tango nods approvingly.

“Norman. I like it!”

Tango is walking beside Jimmy with a pardon of his own, and even a small sack of gold as an apology for the bounty. No horse, though. He’s the main reason Jimmy hasn’t mounted and rode off into the horizon. Joel and Grian are closing out their own affairs, and then they’re planning on catching up to Jimmy and helping get him set up in the next biome. Ranching still doesn’t seem like the kind of life they’d enjoy, so he doubts they’ll stay. Jimmy will live on without them. He did in the castle, and the did on the road. They can survive apart. It's nice to know, still, that they'll come when he calls.

As for why they're trailing a day behind, Jimmy suspects the only real reason for that is because they’re giving him and Tango time to…he’s not sure what.

Jimmy says, “I guess you don’t have to escort me to the border, anymore.”

Tango kicks at some slush. “I guess not.”

“You could go back to your demolition crew. Or anywhere else you wanted.”

“Yup. Yup.”

The sun is rising. The sky is mostly pink. In the distance birds are singing.

“I was thinking—”

“If you wanted, you could—”

They look at each other. Jimmy laughs, and so does Tango, clear and loud.

“You first,” Tango says.

Jimmy summons his courage. He’s surprised at how easily he finds it.

“You could stay,” he says. Tango stops walking, and so does Jimmy.

“What?”

“You could stay at the ranch, I mean. You said you wanted to see the plains, so you’re still welcome to join. You could stay at the ranch. For a little while, or—or however long you’d like.”

Tango stares at him. Jimmy’s courage falters, but does not crumble. He starts rambling.

“You wouldn’t have to pay rent or anything. Just help me around the ranch sometimes, with the cows. And the warden. And when you want to go explore, you could, and the ranch could be like—like a homebase or something. I’d never expect you to get hurt for me. And you’d—you’d never expect me to get hurt for you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Tango says. “Never.”

“I know.” Jimmy’s throat is tight. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Tango takes a few deep breaths. He looks a little starstruck, which Jimmy wasn’t expecting, and is very sweet. With each one breath the flames in his hair and tail swell and ebb, swell and ebb, until they calm down with one firm exhale. Jimmy waits patiently.

Tango meets his eyes and clears his throat. “Yeah, yes, I’d like that. I’d really really like that. I was going to say the same thing, but you said it better. You’re really incredible, you know that?”

Jimmy kisses him. Quick, the corner of his mouth.

Tango looks starstruck again. “Wow.”

Jimmy spins to face his new horse and mess with the bridle. It nickers knowingly. “Ahem. Um. Are we both going to be able to fit, do you think?”

There’s a sound that might be Tango slapping his cheeks. “Only one way to find out!”

They do both fit, though it takes about ten minutes of flailing and sliding off the side and Norman probably laughing at them in horse. The whole thing is objectively humiliating. Jimmy doesn’t care a whit.

It’s full morning by the time they’re ready to start moving again. Tango’s arms come around Jimmy’s waist. His smile is sharp and crooked at his shoulder. “Ready, rancher?”

A thrill goes up Jimmy’s spine. “Born ready!” 

He gives Norman a little kick. They rocket into a gallop, and in under five minutes Jimmy is somehow the one tumbling off the side of the saddle.

Tango howls with laughter. He pulls Norman into a canter, then a trot, then a walk. It’s clear which of them have actually ridden before. “Oh man, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Jimmy groans from the ground. “Maybe you should drive the horse.”

That sets Tango off again. “Sure, sure. I’ll drive the horse. Here, let me help you up.”

He leans down, offers his hand. Jimmy takes it.

“My hero,” he laughs. “My rancher.”

:

[thehighlordishere]

Yandere ACOTAR poly romantic bat boys mates x male reader escape reaction.🦇❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hello again 🦇

Yandere!Poly!Bat boys x male!reader

you escaping

Warnings: kidnapping, yandere themes,

It’s been weeks. You had found your mates, three males, the high lord, his general and shadowsinger. It was going great at first, until you started to feel off, suddenly your friends and family were distant or..unresponsive to any letters, as if they were gone.

You also noticed how they were everywhere you go, the bond was constantly thrumming in your chest, at least one was always was following you. You asked them about it, thinking they were just being overprotective. Well, overprotective would be part of it.

So you grew distant over the recent things including the stalking and the disappearance of your belongings.

Of course, they did not like that.

So now, here you are, locked in your own room in some castle.

At first, rhysand had told you that you may go wherever in the castle, it’s yours. As long as you don’t leave. When the last part of the sentence sunk in that night, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

You suddenly started panicking and hyperventilating. You weren’t allowed to leave?? You were stuck here?? They apologized and said it would come to this anyway. Azriel insisted it was for your safety.

So the past weeks have been..dreadful and suffocating. They feed you as much as you wanted, and bought whatever you wanted. But it wasn’t enough, you wanted your freedom. And you needed to get away.

The bond protested, to stay. How they would feel. Especially Cas, he was the more emotional one.

You had been waiting, watching and observing, their job shifts, when they come home. Only at one time in the evening, their times line up and they’re all gone for around half an hour. That was your time. To escape.

….

You waited and counted five minutes or longer after Cassian left to attended a mission. He had just kissed your check and gave you hug. The bond have loved it, but you’ve been learning to shut it out.

Checking all the windows, you slid the piece of metal out of your sock with your other foot. You held it for your hand to reach it. The shackles stretched far across the room. You got the shackles of your ankle before standing. You immediately fell from the pain and the un usage of your foot. Rotating it around and testing your ability to walk, you got to the door. With a limp and a bruised white band of skin you got to the living room. You quickly looked around the chambers. Window or the door?

Do others in the castle know that your locked up in these living quarters? Would they report you? Or were they your best bet??

The window is too high so you’ll have to take a chance.

You got past the locks after finding the spare key that watched Rhysand hide and down the hallway. Sticking to the shadows and making your way down. Until you heard the sound of Illyrian wings. Cassian must have forgotten something…again. Shit. Should you have waited another day for it to be one of the others? No time to think, you rushed quickly with your limp, you were getting so close. Hearing cassian run through the castle searching for you was terrifying. You could only help to get farther or to help before Azriel or Rhysand.

You were close to getting down the stairs to the bottom floor when something grabbed your ankle. A shadow. Gods-

You were yanked back into a strong pair of arms, with hands of scars. Scars you had once kissed. A wimped left your mouth as you struggled. You may not be as strong, but you once had worked out and took classes. “Where were you going dear?” You shuddered at his voice as the bond did the opposite. “Do you know how mad Rhys is? Your lucky I got to you.”

“Please let me go, I can’t stand to be here anymore-“

“You know that’s not going to happen, you betrayed us,” his voice had darkened. “You are going back.”

“No-“ you were instantly shadowed back with him. No- you can’t go back, you were so close.

Before your could open your tearful eyes, someone’s hands were on your face.

It was Rhys, “Why did you leave? Why?” He was moving your face around checking for injury even tho you had barely gotten away.

You choked up. “I just-needed to get out-I haven’t seen the sun for days-“

“Oh darling you could have just asked.” Rhys answered. You both knew that it was a lie.

Cassian pulled you away from them and into him, wiping your tears before the could fall, “hush, your fine.”

The night ended out with scolding and lecturing, and ended with them comforting you. Rhys even healed your ankle and Az had rubbed some cream onto it. In hopes you would stay.

Crying yourself to sleep with your three males.

[ironmandeficiency]

the best gift

pairing: fíli / fem!reader

word count: 2975

summary: your husband is sent on a diplomatic mission to reestablish trade. this trip unfortunately falls during your first birthday in erebor as fee’s betrothed

a/n: my march piece for the year of themed creation ( @yearofcreation2023 ) that i didn't finish in time bc life sucks ass. nâthuê kurdu means “daughter of my heart”, & namadith means "little sister" in khuzdul. the stone gifted to the reader is amazonite. also, see if you can find my “blind burglar” reference lol (that series has taken over my brain holy shit)

“do you truly have to go, fee?”

fíli’s forehead gently thumps against yours, his hands holding you close. “i’m sorry, ghivashel. i wish i didn’t have to go until after, but there’s only so much that can be done from such a dístance.”

you knew he was right, that reestablishing trade to erebor was crucial in gaining a sturdy foothold in the mountain. and since he’s the heir apparent, he has to uphold the duties of his status.

that doesn’t make fíli missing your birthday any less dísappointing.

“i promise you, my love, i will make every effort to be home before your special day.” his lips press gently against yours and you let yourself go in his embrace.

with a playful tug on his braided beard, you bid him safe travels before he mounts his pony and rides off.

-

~ two weeks before your birthday ~

from the day he set out, fíli wrote you all sorts of letters. their contents ranged from how deeply he loved you, to what he had to eat a few days prior, to the weird mannerisms of animals he encountered (there was a ferret that followed him for two whole days that he named thistle, silly little thing). at the end of every letter, for his own reassurance, he wished you a happy birthday in all sorts of flowery language courtesy of balin’s lessons. if the ravens knew he did this because he was frightened of the letters not reaching you in time, they probably would have pecked him a new orifice or two for doubting their efficiency.

the latest letter (and all the others before) had arrived courtesy of a raven named jessamy, a sweet hen that made her favor for your husband over the other royals very much known. she chittered softly at you from the windowsill to get your attention before squawking just loud enough to rouse you from your concentration.

“princess consort! another letter from your husband!”

rising from your desk, you approach the window and give the faithful bird a good chin scratch. “i told you, jess, you don’t have to use titles with me. we’re far beyond all the formalities.” your hands deftly untied the missive from her leg before inviting the raven inside.

it was tradition by now: every time you received a letter from fíli, the loyal raven was offered food and rest on a special cushion you had made specifically for her while waiting for you to pen your reply. jessamy was quite the conversationalist and far more favored company compared to many of the nuisance nobles that now occupied the mountain. the two of you would gossip about your respective circles and duties with afternoon tea before she carried your reply to fee.

she fluffed her wings with indignance. “being an adult or not, i think adad would have my tail feathers if he heard me being so casual with you and prince fíli.”

it took no small amount of willpower to keep from guffawing in your friend’s face. “you think roac is constantly professional with thorin? i’ve heard him on no less than three occasions call uncle an absolute fool!”

“‘do as i say, not as i do’ is a phrase i’ve heard since before i could fly, if that provides any context.”

you chuckled at the turn of phrase that sounds eerily like something thorin would say. “well, the offer still stands, my friend. you know my name and have freedom to use it however you please.”

“duly noted, princess,” her tone told you that she wasn’t planning on doing so anytime soon. dropping the topic, you choose instead to sit and read fíli’s latest letter.

my dearest love,

the weather has been suspiciously kind to us this past week, but i cannot find it in me to look this gift boar in the mouth. we braved but a brief sprinkling from the heavens, and my company was graced with the sight of a rainbow. if i had any sort of artistic ability in my bones, i’d have spent hours simply drawing the colored light as it dísappeared behind the hills we previously crossed. 

i saw the strangest mushroom a few hours after i sent jessamy back to you the time before this, far too late to include it in my letters. it was bright red and oozed something alarmingly bloody when fractured. it looked as if someone slapped a piece of venison onto a tree and called it a fungus. i sliced a piece off to give to oin, i believe he would appreciate it.

as your birthday draws ever nearer, i continue to fear that i won’t arrive home in time to celebrate by your side. as i have in every letter previously, i will remind you that i love you with every muscle and bone in my body. everything i do, i do in hopes i will continue to be the dwarf you deserve, to be someone worthy of your hand. happy birthday, my love. i’ll be home soon.

your prince,

fíli

the smile on your face hurt your cheeks. your dear husband was such a sap that he could rival that of every tree in the woodland realm.

the ornate wooden box you recently commissioned special from bifur sat on your desk, lying in wait for the latest letter to fill it. nothing could bring you to throw away any of the letters fíli has written to you, so you saved every single one all the way back to when you first met him, long before erebor was reclaimed. their new home was far more fitting than the tattered cloth and twine that kept them safe prior to coming to erebor.

would you eventually need to either size up or get more boxes made? most definitely. but for now, this latest letter would fit perfectly inside the box in front of you. adding the date it was received to the bottom, the parchment found its new home among fellow letters.

~ the morning of your birthday ~

fíli wondered, not for the first time in his life, why he allowed himself to be roped into the ridiculous plans his brother concocted. he had just arrived back in erebor mere hours ago, but instead of immediately running to you, here he was in a box. the one good thing was that it was surprisingly spacious, considering that it was, in fact, still a box.

it was all because kíli was unable to finish your true gift from him in time, which is to be a set of leather armor made from hide he collected and tanned himself. he asked dori for your measurements and to help with the ornate stitching he had planned, but other than that, everything was done by his hand alone. but his foolish brother had mistaken the month of your birthday for the one directly after, and now there was no time to see it truly complete.

that’s why he was in a box in the common room of the royal wing.

your party (or at least, the private one) wouldn’t commence until the early afternoon, but kíli was insistent on him staying in his paper-wrapped tomb until it was time. you were to receive gifts from your friends and family, and seeing as many of them would lend themselves to be something you would wear to the royal celebration, the private one would happen first.

at least his brother (and bilbo) were sneaking him food and drink from a sneakily hidden hole so he wouldn’t starve before the festivities began.

-

you woke up to the sound of your mother-in-law rifling through your wardrobe. rubbing your eyes to rid them of the crust from a good sleep, you broke through her whispered mutterings. “amad, what…”

she ignored you in favor of continuing to tear your room apart. “there’s no time, you should have been bathed and braided an hour ago!” at first you’re very confused, but then you remember the day.

groaning, you untangle yourself from your blankets, thankful that your husband warned you that amad would be in your rooms when you woke the morning of your birthday. you were in a more presentable pair of nightclothes than you would have been otherwise.

she heard you ruffling about and immediately approached you, her usual no-nonsense eyes also housing the fondness that only came from a mother. “oh good you’re up. there’s already a bath waiting with your favorite soaps, and when you get out your clothes will be waiting on your bed for you. i’ll help you dress, then we can braid your hair properly.” it was like she never stopped to breathe.

before you could even reply, she was shooing you towards the bathroom while tugging at your nightclothes. “now off you go! no daughter of mine will arrive at her own birthday celebration looking like a hooligan.”

if you were a bit more awake you would have laughed.

some minutes later (no matter how much you wanted to enjoy your morning bath, it would be most unwise to keep dís waiting), you emerged from the bathroom and marveled at the gown that lay waiting for you on the bed.

dís noticed your entrance and smiled at the way your eyes lit up while taking in the fine work. it was dyed in the same durin blue you wore on the day of your wedding, with such intricate work along the hem that you couldn’t help but open your mouth in awe. “dori’s talent never dísappoints, does it?” you nodded your agreement in stunned silence.

there were the signature embroidered sharp edges that defined dwarven fashion, many segments adorned with crystal chips sewn directly into the dress. it wasn’t a crystal you were immediately familiar with, but you enjoyed the way the lighter blue contrasted the deep blue with a bright pop.

“as much as we’d both like to stare at the dress for the next several hours, it would look much better on you.” you bit back the scandalous comment that came to mind that involved your husband liking it better on the floor of your rooms. you’ve been spending far too much time with your brother-in-law.

for being so beautiful, you thought it would be an absolute pain to actually get on. much to your surprise, it slid on your body like a glove. dís fastened it closed and once you were snug inside the gown, she all but pushed you into the chair in front of your vanity to begin braiding your hair.

with the barest amounts of makeup and braids weaved into your hair tighter than gloin’s coin purse, she finally set you free for the moment. she dug in the pockets hidden in the folds of her own dress - something she always insisted on you requesting as well - until she pulled out a small box with the seven stars of durin on the lid.

she placed the box in your hands, her strong, callused ones firmly holding yours into place. “this is my gift for you, nâthuê kurdu. a piece that symbolizes the bond you share with fíli, made by my own hand to celebrate the daughter i never thought i would get.”

it was a beautifully made necklace that had you captivated at first sight. the chain itself was a delicate weave of copper and silver, but the pendant was what gave you pause. it was the sun and moon; the sun was made of tiger’s eye, the stone that dís christened her firstborn with at his own majority, and the moon was made of the same stone that adorned parts of your dress. they faced each other and around them, wrapped in more wire, were diamonds representing the seven stars.

“dís, you didn’t…”

“oh, my daughter, you’ll find that i did.”

“will you tell me about it?”

she gave you your own stone, an honor you knew she only gave to a very select few.

her eyes were glistening just enough to tell you that she was feeling the love as strongly as you were. “it’s a stone given to help find one’s voice, a conduit to aid in speaking from the heart. it influences calm in the owner and will serve you well for the rest of your days, not just as a future queen of erebor, but as a wife and friend.”

you would have been in tears at her speech if not for the playful glare she gave you warning of the consequences of ruining the makeup. “i don’t know what- thank you amad, i will treasure this piece until the end of my days.” that’s all you knew to say, all you could say without blubbering.

after helping you put it on, she wrapped you in a strong embrace that put you back together seamlessly. “if this is how you act with only a necklace, i don’t think you’ll have a chance of retaining composure once we’re back with everyone.”

-

she was definitely right about that. thorin’s gift of an intricate silver circlet embedded with both yours and your husband’s stones had your bottom lip dangerously quivering. he would have been bowled over at your tackle-hug had he not been already sitting down. he merely smiled and pet your head softly, bilbo passing you a handkerchief to wipe the water from your eyes.

thankfully, you were already familiar with the hobbit tradition of giving gifts on one’s birthday instead of receiving, and had presented him with a set of ceramic teacups and matching saucers you made. they weren’t the same high quality fine china he was passed down by his relatives back in the shire, but they could hold tea just fine. it was given with love and usefulness in mind and to bilbo, that’s what mattered.

with every gift you were given, you felt like you could fly with the ravens from the joy. kíli looked oddly suspicious through the entire ordeal, which would have been slightly worrying had it not been your birthday. he wasn’t daft enough to prank you on such an important day lest he risk the wrath of his mother.

it was even worse when he avoided giving you your gift each time the others badgered him to present it already. their gifts had already been presented and your heart filled with love from each.

“kíli, where is your gift?”

“well, uh, you see, what happened was-” dís leveled a glare at him that could have frozen mount doom. “i didn’t finish it in time. but! the moment i complete it, i shall present it with all the pageantry it deserves.”

“well if you don’t have yours to give, then who’s that massive brick from?” dwalin pointed to the massive box. he raised a very valid point that led many a bearded chin to be stroked in confusion. kíli was the last one who hadn’t given his gift, yet while he says his gift wasn’t finished, there was still an unopened present waiting around the fireplace.

you approached it warily, wondering what in the world it could hold to warrant the size of its container. kíli revealed nothing. “just open it and you’ll see, namadith.” the smirk he wore belied trouble of the worst kind.

maybe he wasn’t as intelligent as you gave him credit for.

“i swear, inudoy, if that box has anything that risks ruining the joy of this day, i will tan your hide and give what little meat there is on your bones to bombur to serve with tonight’s dinner!” dís’s warning did nothing but widen the grin on his face, which would have been rather frightening if you couldn’t hear muffled laughter from the box in front of you.

it was a laugh you fell in love with many moons ago, the one that followed your silly jokes and the sight of his brother getting flattened by dwalin on the training grounds. it was the laugh of your beloved husband, barely being concealed by the box itself and the bickering erupting from the others.

you opened the lid with a knowing smile and as soon as it was removed, fíli popped up with his arms outstretched. “happy birthday, ghivashel!” he attempted to step out of the box to properly embrace you, but it seems his time in the box had put a damper on his ability to properly walk. instead, he tumbled out of it and nearly brought you to the ground as he tried to brace himself.

your laughter mingled with his, neither of you paying attention to the sniggers from the onlookers. “fíli! when did you get back?! please tell me you haven’t been in that box for the past three days!” it appeared in the common room a few days prior and the curiosity about what it could be plagued you for hours upon first glimpse. but no one else seemed to have any clue about it, so you let your curiosity rest.

he chuckled as he stretched his legs out, braving the tingling feeling you knew he was experiencing from being cooped up for durin knows how long. “i only arrived very early this morning. i barely had time to bathe before my fool of a brother was shoving me into this thing and sneaking me food.” he shook his head and laughed, pressing a solid kiss to your temple. “and thank you for the tea earlier, uncle bilbo!”

the hobbit waved him off with a smile, nudging thorin lovingly to get him to pay attention to the fact the contents of the box wouldn’t, in fact, result in him being short a nephew.

“i hate to say it fee, but i think your brother has gotten me the best gift so far.”

“you’ll just have to wait until tonight, kurdu.”

“i look forward to it.”

[dallina17]

okay but first time Em took Vel on a flying date, Vel was probably terrified yes, but just imagine her after they finally land on some high tower and Velvette's hair are so messy it's crazy, and she's like "fuckin hell" but as she looks at Em she calms down because yes, it was fun thing to do, so she doesnt mind.. that much (and as long as nobody would see her)

(also, Em would probably just later take care of Vel's hair <3)

Flying together (Emilette/Angelic Vogue)

“I am not fucking sure about this, Em.”

“Common Vris! It will be so much fun!”

Velvette looked at the sky. How would be flying up there? Seeing hell from so above? The idea kind of made her sick, not having control of what would happen up there, her feet not touching the ground. What if she fell? What if, once up there, she got dizzy and threw up? But it would be a lie if she said that, part of her, didn’t think that the idea was exciting. Be above everything else, would she feel the freedom that flying demons said they felt when flying? Experiencing that was intriguing, but still…

“Let's make a deal!” Emily clasped her hands, giving excited jumps “Give it a try. Just once. Let me try to convince you that flying is one of the best things both in Heaven and Hell!”

Since Emily got her wings back a week ago, she had been so happy. But that meant she wanted to share that happiness with Velvette by showing her how awesome was to fly. And it seemed like this day Emily had made her goal to finally convince her.

“What if you can’t carry me?”

“Nah, I have carried babies heavier than you” Emily chuckled “And, if you don’t like it, you will get to choose our activities for the next month. But! If you like it, you must fly with me at least one day per week for the next… two months!” she outstretched her hand “Do we have a deal?”

Velvette laughed.

“Look at you. Making deals like a professional”

“I have had the best teacher” Emily winked at her with a smile “And the prettiest, too.”

Shit- having her wings back had given the ex-seraphim an extra boost of confidence. And sometimes she said compliments like that suddenly. She should have gotten used to it by now, but it still took her off guard and made her blush like a fucking teenager. And this time wasn’t the exception.

She looked at Emily’s hand, with their deal. She still wasn’t sure about this, but she hadn’t seen her that happy in a long time. When Emily was happy, even hell looked like a beautiful place. Her smile made everything brighter, lovely even. And clearly what would make her happier right now was to fly with her. How could she say no when the fallen angel smiled at her like that?

Plus! She was no pussy! She wouldn’t back off just because flying looked scary! Who knew, maybe it was funnier than it looked like.

“Fine” she took Emily’s hand “We have a deal.”

Emily squeaked and hugged her. Velvette wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close to and sighed. One of these days, Emily was going to be her fucking doom. But she was smiling more, and that was all that mattered.

“So… how do we do it?”

“Well, I think it will be safer for you if I carry you on my back this time”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me! It will be amazing!”

For her, maybe. Velvette still had doubts, but she had made a deal and wasn’t going to break it now. Emily turned around, so the Overlord hugged Emily's back, wrapping her arms around her neck, and holding on tightly. The ex-seraphim held Velvette’s ankles carefully and slowly spread her wings. Velvette was careful not to touch them or hurt her.

“Are you ready?” she said looking at the sky

“Yes,” she hugged Emily a little more. She was warm, as always “Only if you are.”

Velvette was not, in fact, ready.

Emily was careful not to take off too quickly, but Velvette felt her stomach sink anyway and hugged Emily tighter, closing her eyes as she felt the wind hit her face. Soon, she felt Emily's hands gently on hers, followed by her voice.

"Open your eyes.”

Slowly, Velvette opened her eyes. At first, everything was spinning, but then...

The view from so high up was wonderful. She could see the divisions of the pentagram, and visualize her district, and Carmilla's, and Charlie's hotel. The lights were bright, but the red color of the sky gave it a unique touch that couldn't be seen from the ground. Emily smiled at her and left a soft caress on the back of her hand.

“Where do you want to go?”

Without being able to say a word, Velvette pointed to the sector where one of the rivers that crossed the pentagram should be. Emily nodded and held her again.

"There we go"

The descent was worse. Velvette forced herself to bite her lip hard as she felt how the air was trapped in her chest and how the wind whipped hard against her skin. She was sure Emily was going as slow as she could, but she had to maintain some speed if she wanted to carry them both.

Suddenly, she felt how the speed decreased so she dared to open one eye. They were flying above the river, and she could see the reflection of the two of them there.

She could not help but smile. Velvette looked terrified as she hugged Emily, but she the fallen angel had a big smile on her lips. She liked the image that the water showed her. Simply the two together in the middle of a flying session.

Then, Emily ascended again. This time Velvette just held on tight, but she tried to keep her eyes open and watch as Pentagram City grew smaller and smaller. The air tickled her skin, but the sensation of it was beginning to become refreshing. Smaller and smaller, it was fun to get to the top, and how everything you knew became just a point.

They passed through the entire of Pentagram City. Going up and down, Rosie's district was organizing a party, they admired the territory fights from above, they flew over the Hazbin Hotel and of course, when passing through Carmilla's district and seeing the damn old woman, she asked Emily to go there. So Emily went down at full speed, they passed by her (a moment that Velvette took advantage of to give her the middle finger) and then they went back up. Emily scolded her, but ha! It had been worth it. She had no idea if Carmilla had managed to see her, but it didn't matter.

When they finished the tour, Emily went up again, only this time higher, straight into the clouds, so the city disappeared. Velvette closed her eyes, expecting the hell clouds to cause her some kind of pain but... no, they simply passed through them, and collided with her skin. They were fuzzy.

She couldn't help it, she let out a laugh. Emily laughed too, and the two of them went through different clouds, making holes in the middle. Finally, they stopped, and the fallen angel began to descend directly towards the Vees district, landing directly on the balcony in Velvette's room.

She climbed off Emily's back and clung to the railing, trying to catch her breath. That had been... terrifying, she felt like at any moment she was going to fly away or that her stomach was going to come out. They hadn't done as many pirouettes or somersaults, but she still felt her heart pounding against her chest and slowly... whatever was inside her... returning to her body. That had been crazy, she could have…

Emily giggled, to which Velvette returned to look at her.

"What?"

"Your hair"

That set off all the alarms within the young Overlord.

“What's wrong with my hair?”

And without waiting another second, she opened her cell phone in selfie mode and saw herself. She froze. What the fuck?

This was a disaster. A real disaster. Because of all the wind, her hair was disheveled in all directions. There were strands all over her face, and her hairstyle had become undone. Fucking shit. If she had known this, she would have put on gel or a protective cap or some shit like that. It was horrible. A disaster. If someone saw her like that...

“You look adorable,” Emily whispered, placing a hand on her cheek, making Velvette look at her “I love all the hairstyles you have, but there's something I love about your hair after flying.”

Velvette looked at the ex-seraphim. Her hair had also become disheveled, but it looked beautiful on her. Wild. Free. Her eyes seemed to shine with intensity, the kind that warms your heart. And then she started laughing as she placed her hand on top of Emily's. Fuck her hair, anyway, they were alone in the tower.

“That was terrible.”

Emily gave her one of her smiles.

“Would you do it again?”

She thought of the wind. And how light she felt. It was as if she left everything behind in the pentagram, and that, as long as she was in the air, there was only her. And Emily. Just the two of them existing without anything to bind them. It had been fun even, the way they spun, the feeling in her body once she'd gotten used to it.

“Maybe” Velvette gave her a small touch on her forehead and pushed her back. “We'll see.”

Emily jumped excitedly.

"Brilliant! Because I can't wait to teach you back landings, and circle spins, and V pirouettes! They are soooo cool!”

“The what?”

"This is gonna be great!"

Velvette simply looked at her, still smiling. If she said it would be great, it certainly would be.

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter Five is up!

Preview:

It’s rare that a fantasy comes true just as you’re fantasizing about it, but that’s just what happened when Once-ler’s wagon rolled over the next hill. Not only did the scene happen to be extraordinary, but it came at such a coincidental time of desperate wishfulness that Once-ler was ripped straight from his daydreams and his eyes filled with tears immediately.

PEACE! FREEDOM! INSPIRATION! it screamed all at once.

Such a heavy feeling of serenity and joy descended upon his soul that he knew immediately he was where he was meant to be. It took less than a second to decide this was home, and he would never change his mind for the rest of his days. A smile spread across his face, the kind that was so big it hurt.

The valley he overlooked was a forest, but not like the forest at home. He’d never dreamed a forest could be so different. Where the one behind his farm was small, dry, and gray, the one below stretched beyond the horizon, filled with the brightest green grass and dark blue water full of lily pads, duckweed, and cattails.

Wispy trees and bushes bloomed with pink, yellow, and orange silken foliage that filled his nose with sugary sweetness. Instead of being empty and boring, as if animals would rather be anywhere less desolate, it buzzed with bees, butterflies, frogs, and fish he could see even from his vantage atop the highest hill. A sense of adventure and endless discovery pierced his heart as Once-ler's wagon rolled deeper down into Heaven.

So this was how forests were supposed to be. Every choice he’d made up to that point had been right after all, if it had led him to this. When the wagon reached the bottom of the hill, the yodels died on his lips, and he threw his guitar in the back. “Come on, Melvin,” he said, leading the mule along. The forest only became more interesting from there.

Ho-li-ah Ho-le-rah-hi-hi-ah Ho-le-rah-cuckoo Fol-de-rol, laddie right Toor-a-lie-addy

“Wait, who’s singing? Oh, wow!” Once-ler stood in awe as he watched a trio of fat yellow and orange fish dancing atop a rock, using their fins as legs. They held hands, spinning with their eyes closed, occasionally kicking out their fins or breaking away to do an Irish jig.

“Bizarre,” he said, checking over his shoulder just in case it was some kind of trick. “Does anyone else even know this exists?”

A yellow butterfly soared past with wings the size of book pages. The dark spots on its wings looked like a cow's. It landed on a flower where a frog strolled by on its hind legs and started milking it into an acorn cap.

"Oh my goodness!" Once-ler hopped up and down. "I think I just stumbled upon a completely undiscovered habitat!" After his life at home, he'd begun to think there was no such thing as anything new or exciting.

"Magnificent," he said, tears filling his eyes as a swarm of orange swans flew over his head under sun-tinted clouds. They soared, then dipped, taking a dive alongside a waterfall that roared ominously.

~*~

Follow me for the rest of the rewrite! (I'm going to post new chapters every week).

I can't wait to get to the part about the Lorax. I'm going to write him so much differently than the movie that made him a useless smart aleck. I always thought he should be more mysterious and fae-like. Gonna try to make it like something Tolkien or Holly Black would write. This story is really fun to write!

[academyofbrokenhearts]

You Touched My Face and All Life Was Erased

Suna and Kaya's first kiss, and what brought them to that point.

Author note: I planned to write this every since I watched the kiss scene, but it took me a while, because I wasn't quite sure how to approach it. But here it is finally. Hope it will make it up somewhat for the lack of canon KaySun this week.

Title inspired by HIM's "Resurrection". Lately it seems like all my favourite songs are KaySun coded.

AO3 link here.

Neither Suna nor Kaya give it a second thought until the moment İfakat opens her mouth, putting in words something neither of them was willing to confront.

the attraction that they feel for each other

Suna's initial reaction is disbelief, because she wears the scars of a lifetime of silence and solitude, always being treated as an afterthought, a quiet, withdrawn girl whose opinion does not matter, and never will.

and her dreams were always fractured to the point where she actively suppressed them, because useless hope can be worse than resignation

Kaya looks at İfakat, knows that whatever game she plays, can't be in his interest, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go along with it, if it will get him one step to the revenge that seems to be the only way in which he can calm the storm that rages inside of him. Also, if İfakat thinks she can play him, she better think again.

and somewhere deep down inside, even if he is unwilling to admit it, he does have a bit of a soft spot for the beautiful girl who is not afraid to criticise him, and is not afraid to apologise to him either

*

Can he be her rescue? Suna wonders, when the aftershock has passed, and İfakat's words have started to settle in a bit. Or is this just another door that opens to a wall?

and what other option does she have, except submitting to endless humiliation, to the point that she will be nothing but a broken shell?

Is it worth it? Kaya asks himself. Sacrificing his freedom just to wildly bet on an outcome that might not even be in his favour at the end?

but was he ever really free? and would it be so bad to take this risk?

*

Suna thinks and thinks.

She believed she had found a shelter before, through a love that was at one point the only source of joy in her miserable life, a love that is still unfinished, drowning in bitterness and more pain than she thought she would be able to handle. She's here, still standing in spite of everything, locking down her pain and pretending, in order not to collapse.

But she doesn't know how long she is going to last like this. What word will destroy her completely. What pain will finally be too much.

Part of her still doubts that Kaya is affected in any significant way by her. The spare, the girl who always gets ignored. How could this ever happen?

It's not possible.

And yet...

what if it is what if it is what if it is what if it is

*

What exactly did she do to him to be dragged into this twisted game of revenge? Kaya muses.

And of course, the answer is nothing. Nothing at all.

She bears no responsibility for the rage that boils inside him, threatening to spill over and destroy everything in its path. She has no fault for the dark shadows that loom around him, for the insecurities that he would never acknowledge out loud, for the fear that he will always be left behind, that he will never be good enough.

He does not know her that well, but he did pay attention to her a bit, he noticed some things. She's living her own special kind of hell - what use is it to add his own on top of that?

It would be bad.

And yet...

maybe not that bad maybe not that bad maybe not that bad maybe not that bad

*

In spite of herself (don't dream, Suna, don't you dare), her heart flutters when he compares her to a water spirit.

he doesn't know that she cannot fly because they cut off her wings until there was barely anything left anymore

He does try to keep his distance. Says he won't come to her sister's celebration because he does not want to cause any more tension, but she insists.

she doesn't know that something in him warms up when hearing her words, because he sees himself reflected in her eyes, and it's almost like he's a human being, and it's almost like he matters

*

She can't go to his room, she can't, she won't. She already risked more than she could possibly imagine by leaving the mansion with no permission to go with him at the market, she can't take one single step further.

But İfakat insists that she should, because he got in a fight and got wounded because of her, so she gives in. And really, a part of her might have been on board with it all along.

She should be afraid. She saw his anger, the way it exploded almost unprovoked. She should be, but...

but this is her choice, hers and no one else's, and it might result in heaven or hell, but it's the first time when she feels she might be in control of something, when she feels she's more than a simple pawn

He thought she would be scared of him, but she's not. Quite the contrary, she surprises him by knocking at his door and offering to apply some cream to the wound he got when fighting with those guys in the market.

It goes against everything he knew, or he thought he knew, about her upbringing, about who she is as a person. She either likes him that much... or she is just that desperate.

Neither option is good, and he should put a stop to everything before it's too late.

it's hard when she is so close he can smell her perfume, the sweetness of her breath when she blows over his eyebrow, where they hit him, and if only someone could heal all of his wounds like that

He tells her they should stop. He tells her it's too soon. He tells her she's not sure of her feelings.

She freezes, mortification taking over her entire being. Of course she interpreted all of it incorrectly. She bet on an illusion and lost again. And she knows she will never be able to look properly into his eyes again, and tells him as much.

Oh, and it's so familiar to him, the way tears suffocate her voice, the effort she makes to keep her head high, to not crumble. He knows it. He lived it.

He only tried to be kind, the way he knew how to be, at least, but his kindness hurt her.

She's brave, the way she tries to stop crying, the way she tells him nothing happened, like she's trying to convince herself.

this is another nightmare and then she will wake up and she will lock everything down and she will survive because she has to

He stands still, looking at her, understanding in his eyes.

he knows, he sees her now

With measured steps, he approaches her, the decision taken before he can even be properly aware of it. She could step back, get out, but she does not. Brave girl.

There's nothing tender in the way he grabs her face, but his fingers wiping her tears feel gentle on her skin. She closes her eyes, breathes in, breathes out, and reaches out to him, touching his cheek with her hand, his own hand immediately moving to cover hers. Like he's not allowing her to let go.

Like they are the only remaining living beings in the entire world.

Then he kisses her.

he tastes like hope and dreams and desire and everything she never dared to wish

she tastes like salt and desperation and want and everything he never knew he needed

*

it turns to hell two seconds later

but when all is said and done and after all the tears and commotion, there are no regrets to speak of

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Remember a Time XI

Series:  (Pt.1), (P.t 2), (P.t 3), (P.t 4), (P.t 5), (P.t 6), (P.t 7), (P.t 8), (P.t 9), (P.t 10) Wanda Maximoff x Fem! Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader ;) (High school Au ) No Powers Word count: 1904 A/n: Things are starting to get serious. I am trusting the process, everything will fall into place, hopefully. I hope you peeps enjoy the story so far I appreciated you all. Some love to the annon that sent me a message. (U know who you are <3)

Your first year of college was rather uneventful. Well that's what you liked to tell people, but in all honesty it was absolutely horrible. You and Natasha had entered this new chapter of your lives together and on the same page. You couldn't help but feel that by the end of the first semester you guys were reading two completely different books. Natasha was a go-getter she was impeccably amazing at everything she decided to put her mind to. She had chosen a very demanding Law major and on top of that she would give her all to train and practice to be the best. You didn't choose the easiest major, but it was lax compared to Natasha's 3 hours worth of reading each night. Business management was something that you felt somewhat passionate about. Your father had a somewhat large company that he built from the ground up. And you were fond of the idea of picking up the mantle when your time came. But you also had fun, a lot of fun. 

Once your mother found out you would be attending UCLA she made sure that you got everything in order to pledge to her old sorority. You'd never been the type to think that you would try out let alone fit in and thoroughly enjoy being a part of. You only pledged to your mothers old sorority and once the fact that you were a legacy came up you were welcomed with relatively open arms. "How's pledge week going, please tell me you're not being hazed by some weak blonde bimbo." Natasha said as you walked into your apartment. "No... I'm being hazed by a hot blond bimbo." You joked, chuckling at Natasha's disgruntled look. "Not cool.." She huffed "People don't do that anymore, but I think that I really like it there." She smiled. "I'm glad that we’re both finding our place." She said walking towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug and giving you a chaste kiss on the lips. 

That would be one of the last moments you had with her that didn't end up with the both of you fighting. You absolutely hated having arguments with her but the universe just seemed to want to pull you apart. Freshman year was a year of discovery, you learn a lot about yourself and your limits unfortunately sometimes you can get caught up in all that freedom to grow and and honestly lack of adult supervision. You'd become an avid party goer and maybe a tad bit of an alcoholic. Natasha was busy most days, her schedule was packed and you couldn't complain all the contrary you admired her dedication. But the lack of seeing each other was creating friction because when she could see and spend time with you, you were at a party or hungover, or busy yourself trying to catch up with school work. "We can't keep going like this Y/n what's happening to us?" Your tears were muted, you felt her sadness and yours. This was only going one place and you both knew it. 

Natasha was having a hard time. It took a long while for her to adjust to not being near her family, then it took her even longer to adjust to being with you in this new phase of her life. School was stress inducing to say the least of course she had things under control but that didn't mean she didn't stress all the contrary she only had it under control because she stressed. Soccer was as good as it could get. She only really pushed herself so hard because it relieved some of the stress she was feeling. All of her teammates were likable and trust worthy. There was one teammate in particular though that she could really see as a good friend and that would be Maria Hill, team captain. She had taken Natasha under her wing and taught her the ropes. There was something more there and she could feel it. A small wince or a clench of the jaw every time she mentioned you. There was something there and it was driving Natasha crazy. She'd promised Wanda and herself she wouldn't hurt you, and here she was considering it. 

It always came down to Wanda didn't it.

"I-i Natasha, maybe we should..." Your phone rang in your pocket with the last number you'd think would call you. It was Pietro, you were shocked to say the least. "I think that I should take this..." You motioned to the phone in your hand. Natasha nodded, wiping a tear from her eye too busy trying to compose herself to notice who was calling. "Is this Y/n's number? " The voice on the other end sounded unfamiliar. "Yes, I'm sorry but who is this and why are you calling from my friend's phone?" The person on the other end sighed. "Um, Y/n It's me Vision. Listen, you might want to take a seat or something." Your heart rate picked up and your shoulders tensed. Natasha noticed and she herself began to brace. "Pietro he um, he's been in an accident Y/n." Your heart ached, your hand moved to your chest, tears immediately welling in your eyes. "It's not looking good." His voice was heavy with sorrow. "She told me to call you..." Your heart broke at that, Wanda. "I'll get the next flight out, I'll be there as soon as I can. Please keep me updated." You urged. "I will just please come."   

The line dropped and your eyes finally met Natasha's. "Pietro's had a- He's been in an accident." You barely managed to get out. Natasha tried to step forward with her arms reaching for you. You moved back, your mind still reeling with what was about to come out of your mouth before you answered that phone, and the phone call itself. "I need to call Tony, He'll get me there in no time." Natasha's surprise was thinly veiled. "Y/n you're in the middle of the most important part of the semester, finals are around the corner, you can't just up and leave." Your eyes pierced hers. "I can, and I will. My friend could very well be dead right now." Calling him that felt wrong, he was more than a friend, sure things were rocky after Wanda. But you still cared immensely for him. You left her standing there in the tense silence you'd created. You dialed Tony he answered on the first ring. "Finally, my jet's waiting for you and Nat." You winced at her mention. "Just me, I'll be on the plane within the hour." Natasha drove you to the hangar, the drive was silent. It was uncomfortable, but you appreciated her being somewhat reasonable and not bringing up your conversation right now.

"I'll let you know what happens when I land." You said when you'd finally pulled up to the plane. "I think maybe you shouldn't." She said quietly, her eyes on the ground in front of you. You scoffed out a laugh, wiping the tears in your eyes. You nodded. "Noted, Goodbye" You didn't give her a chance to reply boarding the plane as quickly as possible. That flight was the longest four hours of your life. You weren't mad at Natasha you'd seen this coming just not like this. Never like this. It hurt but It would've hurt more if you'd both waited until it was too late. Tony was there when you landed . He gave you a crushing hug, which you returned. "What happened?" You asked, your voice breaking slightly. "Pietro was hit by a drunk driver on his motorcycle." You winced. "He's still in surgery. They're trying to stop all the internal bleeding." You nodded already trying to steady and strengthen yourself. Either way it was going to be hard. "Wanda, how is she?" In any eventuality it would be a lot to deal with. "No one thought this would happen, you never think something like this is coming." You only nodded. The drive there again was incredibly silent. 

Your eyes searched frantically for her, you definitely looked worse for wear no sleep and a prior maybe relationship break up was definitely taking a toll on you. When your eyes landed on her you knew she needed this... you. She looked pale, her eyes were dull, she was a ghost. You didn't look or feel any better but you knew she definitely was feeling it. Vision saw you first and quickly motioned you into the seat next to her.  He didn't bother stopping you for a greeting, he just let you be. Seating next to her was overwhelming to say the least, she still hadn't knocked out of her mind. Only thing you could think of doing was reaching for her hand. When you finally built the courage to, you reached out for her, her head barely turned to acknowledge you, but when she did it was almost an immediate her reaction. It was like the dam had finally broken and her breathing was erratic and her tears were overflowing. You pulled her up with you and into you. You put as much force as you could into the hug until she calmed down. You were just holding her. "It's not a dream..." She said into your chest. 

Your eyes watered. "It's not, but everything is going to be alright. Pietro is strong, he'll pull through." She nodded. "He has to be okay, You're here. He has to be okay." You could only hold her tighter.

Something had changed when you went back to California. Your apartment felt empty, it didn’t feel the same. It was hard to pinpoint at first but then you noticed it. Her things that were always somehow splayed in your apartment were gone. Even the most mundane things that she’d leave there were gone. Her drawer and closet space were empty. That’s when the dread came back. She'd left… 

Christmas was as bleak as it could be, it felt wrong to feel happy. You kept your word and celebrated with your parents. There wasn’t much to do, you and Tony spent a lot of time together during the month you had off of school. Surprisingly you survived and passed the semester. Things were grim, and Tony respected your space and left it alone as much as he could. Which meant that you third wheeled Tony and Pepper for the better part of a month. You avoided any and all contact with the Romanoff’s and they seemed to understand. Well all but one. “I told you not to fuck up.” You sighed. You were currently trying to open your front door. “I didn’t.” It angered you that she was letting this narrative run. You turned to look at her. “I came back, and she was gone.” You were about to continue when you heard the steps coming up behind Yelena. “I told you not to bother her.” Her voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water. 

Yelena was about to argue with her but quickly shut up when she met Natasha’s gaze. You didn’t bother shifting your gaze from your keys. Instead, you choose to turn and finish opening your door. You could hear Yelena talking from behind you. “You’re just going to let her walk away like that?” You closed the door before Natasha could answer, but you still managed to hear what she said. “Yes…”

Tag-List: @when-wolves-howl, @alyciaddict,​​ @username23345,​ @arixxxxxxxxa, @justyourwritter69, @picnicminded, @swiftdazer, @alphawolfchicago1124,​​ @sojo154, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx, @marvelogic, @wandasmistress, @alwaysgoodnight, @chickenlittlsblog

[forgottenluck]

This is....extremely hard for me to write. It's not going to be a happy post. I'll put the meat of it under a readmore, since there's....a lot to explain.

This morning, (Wednesday April 3rd) at 6:15am, My mother left us.

I knew that this was coming, sooner than later. The past few weeks have been hard.

She had no quality of life. She couldn't get up in bed, she definitely couldn't walk. She'd been bed-bound for 6 months. There's been close calls before too....when she's had UTIs and covid. The last time she got a UTI I....really thought I was going to loose her. She looked so bad, couldn't stay awake for more than a few moments...

It was nothing like this.

I went to visit her on Thursday of last week, before my convention. She wasn't great, but she was still responding to me, still eating if i helped her. She didn't eat much....but it was something. I figured it was another one of her dips. She's always been on a roller coaster, health wise. She'd have good moments, she'd have bad. It was always a toss up on a given day that she'd be good or bad.

She never recovered from this one.

And my Aunt, who took over careing for her and handling her affairs so that I could escape from that, did not tell me until Sunday evening. Though at that point, it was just "she's not doing great" type of deal. Monday was the same.

Then Tuesday came. I was feeling good, ready to get back to work after my little vacation. I was chipper, happy.....Only to get a message from my aunt saying that Hospice had called her, to tell her that the end was extremely close.

I dropped everything and ran up to the Nursing Home to see for myself, since there'd been plenty of times where the alarm had been sounded but she actually wasn't that bad.

But she was.

She was not awake at all. They hadn't given her anything, but she wouldn't wake up. She was so tiny and skinny from not eating, palid and grey....it's indescribable unless you've been through it yourself. I knew at that moment that she wasn't going to last long. I stayed with her for hours until the weather forced me to get home. She was still drinking water....to an extent. It had to be on little sponges that she would suck on. But she was running a fever that never left, her oxygen level had tanked to the point where they put her on oxygen.

But the clencher was the rattle. I knew what that was. I'd heard it before.

Hospice said since she was still drinking water, she likely would live through the night.....and she did. Just barely.

I'm glad I got to see her one last time. To tell her that it was okay. That i'd be okay. Eventually. Even if she couldn't hear me. I think she was waiting for me to come, since it was only about half a day later that she passed on.

Close friends of mine will know that while I might have complained a lot, had a lot of issues with my mother......I loved her dearly. I was super close with her even if it was a massive strain on me. I was her main caretaker for 15 years. I sacrificed my youth, my teenage years, my college years....so that I could make sure she was okay, was alive, was healthy. She was my world for so long.

And now my world is very broken.

A part of me is glad. Glad that she's not suffering anymore. Glad she went in her sleep. She's not in pain anymore. She doesn't have to sit and lay in that tiny little room with people she doesn't know. She doesn't have to worry about what pills she has to take, or how they're going to get her changed. She doesn't have to worry about anything anymore.

But the rest of me is devastated. I no longer get to see her. I no longer get to hear her voice, or talk with her about her favorite shows. No more sitting with her and watching the news. No more lunches, dinners with her. Nothing. It's a big empty hole that can't be filled easily.

I feel like a bird that's been given freedom....only to have one of it's wings broken, rendering it unable to fly.

It's hard. Harder than anything one could imagine. Loosing family is not something to be wished upon to anyone. I've cried so much today that I just feel empty....and I still have to figure out funeral arrangements and the like.

I'm not...going to have a lot of energy for tumblr for a bit. I might respond to a few things, to attempt to get my mind off things....but it'll be very sparce for a while. I know i've been sparce for a bit....as my adhd has caused me to focus on other things....but this is a completely different animal to that.

I'll be back. I will. And I'll be here off and on. Just....give me a bit of time to heal.