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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 15 days

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Datura Pt 11

Summary: Returning to the Mountain brings up a lot of feelings and Reader tries and fails to keep them all bottled up.

Content Warnings: SMUT (I told you it would come eventually ;) ), a lot of dirty talk, suggestiveness, a little light bondage if you squint, as well as alcohol consumption and drug use.

Author's Note: I apparently have a lot of feelings about sitting in Rhys's lap, 'cause I wrote this Vamp!Rhys fic and this in the same week. I was gonna end it on an angsty note, but the miscommunication trope makes me want to rip my hair out, so I made it fluffy instead (they're adults they can TALK TO EACH OTHER like adults). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, and thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, ya'll make me want to keep writing <3

Previous chapter/ Master list

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The music is a heavy pulse in your skull, drowning out all thought as the lights flash and flare overhead like dozens of fireworks in time to the beat. Your hips sway, flimsy excuse of a dress clinging to your thighs as you twirl and spin in time to the beat. Dozens of hands pass you a long, keep you spinning and spinning until the lights glitter like stars overhead. You throw your head back and laugh at the way they glitter and stretch along your quickly blurring vision.

Someone passes you another cup and you tip the contents back in one gulp, savoring the burn, relishing in the way it fills your empty stomach. You’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, lost count of where the empty ones go as you move along with the crowd, let the press of bodies move you like an ebbing tide.

A cigarette gets passed your way, the violet smoke filtering in hazy rings around people’s heads like halos. Do you smoke? You can’t remember. Can’t think about why you should care at all as you bring it to your lips and inhale deeply, letting the mirthroot take hold.

This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks, it’s the first time you allow yourself complete unbridled freedom. There is nothing to worry about here but following the music and the flow of drink as the mirthroot makes your body loose and limber.

Strong hands settle on your hips as you take another drag, eyes closed, savoring the burn. You sway your hips under the grip, pushing your body back into the firm planes of the male behind you. You don’t have the presence of mind to be mortified, to think about the way you’re grinding on a stranger in the middle of this crowd of people.

Warm breath frames your neck, skittering over the golden collar still encircling your throat. “I think you’ve had enough, Darling.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. The words dance around the bargain mark on your ribs, heat flaring in your chest that has nothing to do with the fae wine or the mirthroot and everything to do with the fact that when you’d been dragged back into your cell, it had been empty. Empty and had smelled like her. And you’d thrown yourself against the battered door, claws slashing across the worn iron until they shattered from your fingertips, until you splattered blood across the unyielding iron, dark mist filling the cell until it nearly sucked the air from the room. You don’t know how or why the door held, why your nails couldn’t cut through the strange marks etched into the door; the only thing that was clear is that in retaliation for leaving, your fault or not, she’d taken Rhys and had left you alone in the dark. Days passed without word, without food, until the guards had come and thrown you into a room with the order to bathe and change and be ready in an hour and you complied only with the intent to go right into the Throne Room to rip her throat out with your teeth. But Rhys hadn’t been at her side when you arrived either, hadn’t been a face in the crowd as Amarantha declared to the court that you had slain the twins sent from Hybern for attacking their Queen. The crowd that days ago had been laughing at your plight as you’d been made to kneel on the floor like an animal was now cheering you on like a hero. Fickle and spineless; Amarantha said jump and they asked how high without question or reason. She’d left you to their whims after that and the wine had started flowing and you’d needed to calm the panic and rage swelling like a storm beneath your skin and had reached for one. One had somehow turned into two and then three and you’d lost count after that, lost yourself in the blissful emptiness and tried to forget how powerless you really were in all of this.

You turn in his arms and though he remains standing where he is, there’s suddenly six of him spinning in dizzying circles and you have to grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself on your feet.

“Easy,” he says, his grip on your hips firm.

You’ve forgotten just how big he is compared to you, how much of you he can fit in his hands. You're too far gone to stop yourself from wondering how those hands would feel beneath your dress, on your thighs, spreading you open…

“Easy,” he says again, nostrils flaring like he scents the effect he has on you like this.

Your hands feel like they're drifting through soup as you reach out to brush your hand through his hair. He’s clean too, skin healed, the clothes new and finely pressed. There is no lingering scent of incense, though you’re pretty sure the mirthroot you smell is on your skin and not his, he remains wholly jasmine and citrus. Nothing of her on him.

“You’re ok?” The words slur out of you, sound muffled and distant even as they come out your mouth. You need him to tell you he’s ok, that she didn’t hurt him, that he got called away for something, anything. He does other things for her, he brought in Tamlin all those weeks ago, he has other roles, but you don’t know how to make the words come out against the fog that rolls through your head. “You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get you some water.”

You shake your head. Water is somewhere near the tables and lounge chairs in the corner, somewhere she might be lurking, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for her chance to steal him again and you can’t have that. “Want to dance.” Want to dance and drink and forget; want to smoke and move and let the music erase everything that is happening around you so that the only thing that matters is the two of you. It’s an added bonus that if he dances with you then that means he keeps his hands on you, has an excuse to keep touching you. Gods you want more of that!

“Water first,” he says, giving you a little nudge backwards.

The move makes the world spin again and you giggle as you let yourself fall into it.

“Wow, you’re really drunk,” he says as he hauls you against his chest and half carries half drags you through the crowd.

“You’re strong,” you giggle. You can feel the muscles in his arms and chest tighten as he moves you around, his fingertips digging deliciously in your hips.

It’s by sheer force of Rhys’s will that you end up in a chair with a glass of water, that you take a single sip of and make a face. “Gross. Want more wine.”

A servant automatically appears with a glass beside you, but before you can grab it, or spill it given the way your limbs flop around, he snatches it off the tray. “Water first.”

You stick out your lower lip. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

He takes a drink out of the cup and suddenly the most exciting thing in the world is watching how his throat works when he swallows and the way the wine stains his lips. “‘Cause it’s fun,” he retorts.

You manage to get another sip of water down before you accidentally catch the glass on the edge of the table and spill it everywhere. “Fuck me,” you say dejectedly. In your state your first thought is to use your skirts to try and dry up the mess, but there’s not enough of them, the sheer fabric barely covering the tops of your thighs.

“You have impeccable manners,” he says as he reaches for your hands to stop you from flashing the whole room as you try and wiggle the dress up enough to use it as a napkin. With a snap of his fingers the mess cleans itself.

“Ooooohhh neat,” you run a finger over the dry table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

You’re too drunk to notice your mistake, but he says, “If you had any powers left, sure,” a little louder than necessary to cover you.

“Right,” you slur as you try to stand on shaky legs. “Well water was good, we dance now.”

He remains a firm wall between you and the dance floor. “Unless you can absorb water through your skin, you didn’t actually drink anything.”

“Had a sip.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Meanie,” you hiss.

“You’re very cute when you’re drunk,” he teases and the grin he gives you makes you want to stretch up on your toes and kiss him right there.

“You’re very kissable when you smile,” you return.

Rhys huffs a laugh and you think you might do just about anything to get him to laugh again.

“I’m always very kissable,” he retorts. “It’s part of my charm.”

“So make part of your charm dancing with me,” you press.

He grabs your hand like he might do just that, but instead, spins around you to claim an empty couch and pulls you down to sit in his lap so fast the world flips and twirls in a blur of pulsing colors that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The wine rises up in your throat, threatening to come back out in a rush and you curl into his chest trying to find a way to make it stop.

“I think this is better.”

You squeeze your temples with your palms. “Make my brain stop spinning,” you whine. Maybe he’s right, maybe dancing is a bad idea.

Besides, he’s still touching you like this. More than touching actually. You’re situated in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, chest to chest, no collar around his throat to stop you if you wanted to put your lips to his neck. There’s not even a scar or bruise to indicate that it had been there, nothing but smooth, bronze skin and the teasing peak of his tattoos beneath his collar.

You brace yourself against his shoulders as the world stops spinning, suddenly very aware of how high your skirt is riding up and how strong the muscles in his thighs are between your legs.

He brings his hands to hold your hips again and you thank the Mother that you’re not so drunk that you’ve lost your inhibitions completely because the only thought in your head right now is how it would feel to grind yourself down on him.

“You’re very drunk,” he says lowly, his own gaze locked on the space between your bodies like he’s drinking in the way your thighs look around him.

“So?”

“So it would be wrong,” he retorts.

“What?” You move your hands to the back of the couch behind him, chest brushing his. There’s barely any straps to your top, the neckline a deep v that leaves your cleavage on display and you don’t miss the way his gaze tracks it as you lean in. “What would be wrong?”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip, staring and something stirs deep inside you. Claim. Claim. Claim. He is your mate and you want him to touch you, kiss you, claim you.

It’s the thought that makes you pause for a brief moment. Does he know your mates? Does he feel this growing need? This incessant longing beating from your rib cage that needs to be touched and held and claimed so deeply you forget what it felt like to be anything else? Is that the bond? Or the wine?

“Doing all the things I’ve been thinking about since the moment I had my lips on yours,” he says, voice barely a whisper, gaze still transfixed on your body.

You preen under the heat in his gaze, press your chest a little more firmly into his so that you can be nose to nose with him. The wine has certainly made you more brazen. “What kinds of things, Rhys?”

The hands holding your hips tighten, fingertips kneading the soft flesh hard enough to bruise and yet your whole body turns molten at that touch. It’s the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and after days and days of cold emptiness, the heat it sparks through your body is more addictive than any wine or drug you can consume here.

“Want this dress off you for starters,” he murmurs, full lips drifting down to dust over the straps clinging to your shoulders.

His words conjure an image in your mind of him leaning forward, pulling the straps down with his teeth, baring the full expanse of your body to him. You shiver under the mental image, hips rocking down against him.

“Want to mark every bit of you I can reach, so that no one dares touch you,” he continues, teeth scraping over your shoulder. “So that everyone knows your mine.”

His. The possession in his tone really does you in, heat building in your lower belly as you grind yourself down against the growing bulge in his pants. The scrape against your core makes your mouth drop open, groan falling from your parted lips. It would be so easy to come undone from this alone.

“Only mine,” he emphasizes, sucking a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, visible beneath that damned collar you can’t take off.

“Rhys,” you whimper, releasing your grip on the back of the couch to drag your hands through his dark hair. “Please.”

His lips move along your throat, teeth scraping your skin before sucking another mark into your sensitive flesh. He’s taking his time, just as he promised all those weeks ago on Calanmai. “Want to know what little noises you’d make for me, how you’d fall apart in my hands…”

You drag your hand from his hair, reaching for the straps of your dress to pull them down for him, hoping to spur him further into action, but he finally releases his grip on your hips to stop you.

“None of that, Darling,” he tuts. “It comes off when I say it does.”

To that point, when you try to rock your hips against him again, it's his glittering, obsidian power that pins you in place, a slither of darkness twining around your hips to hold you there, utterly at his mercy.

He chuckles when you whimper and pout, lower lip sticking out, tears welling up in your eyes, because it’s not fair that he’s this close, that he’s just a hair breadth away from where you need him most and he knows it. He can smell it on you, see it on every line in your face, and yet he won’t move to help you.

“Please, Rhys, please,” you beg. The need for him is unbearable, your whole body burning like it’s on fire, the only relief is the contact with his body. Your mate so close to where you need him most.

“Hogging the woman of the hour, are we?”

You hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps over the pounding of the base against the rock, the sudden appearance making you flinch as Rhys throws a warning snarl over your shoulder. It only makes the red headed male approaching chuckle as he comes to stand directly behind you. The cedar and cinnamon smell of him reminds you of curling up under a warm wool blanket next to a fireplace with your favorite book about vampires, something you like to do in nice Autumn weather.

Slender fingers drag up your spine, and in your delirious state, it makes you arch your back as you shiver under it.

“Eris,” Rhys purrs, but there’s an edge in his tone as he watches you move under another male’s ministrations. The sliver of his power around your waist tightens, the shadows slipping under your skirts to writhe against your flushed skin. He allows you to jerk forward, hips rocking right into the obvious sign of his own arousal, and your eyes roll back into your head at the contact.

“I can name a dozen males who would kill for a chance to be where you are right now, Rhysand,” Eris returns.

“I don’t share,” Rhys says and cauldron that’s all it takes for you to place your lips against his throat. He hums his approval as you scrape your teeth against his skin, hands threading into your hair as you nip and bite and use your tongue to cool any pain you cause him.

Eris plops himself down in the seat next to Rhys, long arms thrown over the back of the couch as he makes himself comfortable.

You can’t bring yourself to care about the audience as you nip at the underside of his jaw. He tilts his head back for you so you can reach more of him unhindered and you sink a little lower down on his lap chasing any friction you can find before the shadows tighten and still your movements again.

“Bastard,” you growl into his throat, but he merely turns his attention to the male next to him.

“You didn’t respond to my message,” Eris hisses. A glass of wine appears in his hand and he takes a slow drink. To any onlookers he’s merely enjoying the party with the High Lord and his nightly entertainment.

��What message?”

“Shit.” This conversation is becoming sobering, despite your best efforts to tune out the other male and focus solely on the pleasure just out of reach. All night long you’d been able to forget.

Eris gives you a sidelong glance that might have made you squirm under the intensity if Rhys hadn’t shifted beneath you to get a better look at the other male, hips brushing up against your center in a move that is definitely intentional.

“The one I gave her,” Eris snarls.

“This is the first I’ve seen her in days,” Rhys retorts, a hand stroking through your hair. “You know how to get in contact with me.”

Eris glances around at the dancers that move past for refreshments as he takes another drink. Only when they’re gone does he say, “So you didn’t tell her to kill the twins?”

You stop moving; stop thinking about Rhys’s body as the image of Dagdan and Brannagh’s mangled bodies flash across your mind. You’re suddenly a lot more sober than you had been moment ago.

Rhys brushes a mental hand against your mind and you flinch, head still tender from the beating it had taken trying to keep your cousins out. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone makes shame burn its way through your lungs. At the littlest thing he’s dropping everything to make sure you’re ok, and yet here you are, with no idea where he’s been or what he’s been through and you’re grinding in his lap like a horny teenager. What kind of mate are you?

“No I didn’t,” Rhys says to Eris, even as he makes another tender stroke against your mind, asking to be let in. “But I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think we can use it to our advantage?” Eris asks.

You don’t deserve how gentle he is with you, but you can’t stop yourself from lowering your shields just enough to let him in. He should know just how much of a monster you’re capable of being before he gets too close.

“Will you show me?” He asks and you open the doorway into the memory, keeping the conversation you’d had with Tamlin about him, the realization of what he is to you, out of reach. He deserves better than that.

Rhys strokes his hands in your hair as he watches the memory unfold, your body shaking in his grip as all that blood and gore comes into view. When it’s over, he closes the door in your mind and clicks the lock into place for you. “It’s over. You’re safe. You did what you had to do to survive, there is no shame in that.”

You press your face into his shoulder to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. You’re an ugly crier when you’re tipsy and you know if you start, you won’t stop.

“I think it’ll bring Hybern here quicker,” Rhys says to Eris, as he drags the fingers in your hair down to trace your spine. To an onlooker, he’s still playing with you, only the two of you know how often he’s traced these shapes into your skin when you wake up screaming in the dungeons. “Which can be played to our advantage if we’re careful.”

Eris takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

“If Hybern can be convinced that our queen is acting out of her own agenda instead of his, he may just do our work for us.”

“A dangerous game,” Eris frowns.

“It always is,” Rhys returns.

It’s astounding how calm and level headed he can remain, always centered, even while everyone else rages and panics around him. How are you supposed to be his equal? To his calm there is only your spinning thoughts and unchecked temper. Everything makes you want to claw and rage and smash things; aren’t mates supposed to balance each other out? What do you bring him other than another mess to sort through?

“Well if you’re not going to share her, I’ll leave you to it,” Eris says as he downs his cup and stands, making a show of stretching, tight shirt rising up to expose the toned line of his abs to a passing cluster of male and female dancers.

Rhys chuckles at that, sliding a little lower into the couch, as he says, “She’s all mine.”

Is this all the conversation they can have? A few passing whispers? A few half-veiled hopes at a plan? Fifty years of juggling court masks and gathering allies and pushing pieces into place in the shadows while everyone else parties around them? It’s such a contrast to the world you’re used to that you can’t help but feel small inside it.

It’s only when he’s gone that Rhys asks, “Are you ok?”

“I thought being drunk was supposed to make me feel less depressed,” you grumble into his shirt because he’s pleasantly warm and you can’t bring your body to move from where you’re pressed into his chest.

“I think you passed over the threshold for that a couple drinks ago,” he replies.

“Take me back to the blissful void,” you whine.

“Well enough people have seen you here with me, I think we can slip away and get you into bed without causing a scene now.”

He’d pulled you over here on purpose, removing the shield of the crowd so people would see you with him, see you cutting loose, and when you disappeared they’d think he’d taken you to bed and not wonder if there was anything more to it, because his reputation was enough. That mask was so encompassing it could shield you too.

Rhys winnows you away and you can’t tell what end is up anymore, not until he sets you square in the center of a bed with black silk sheets. His room, as dust covered and bare as it had been the last time.

You groan as you fall back into the pillows, all the wine threatening to come up again as you try to keep yourself upright. This position allows you to feel just how wet you are between your legs, making you stop squeezing your eyes shut to look at the damp spot you’d left on Rhys’s pants. Not that he seems to notice as he peels off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting comfortable for the night, even as shame makes your cheeks turn bright red. What is wrong with you?

“You need a bucket over there?” He asks.

You need to drink until you can forget what you’ve been doing all night. How are you supposed to look at him now?

You hear the clink of his belt coming off before he climbs into the bed next to you and you force yourself not to open your eyes and look at what he’s wearing to bed, because you’ve made a fool of yourself enough for one night.

“That last drink was a mistake,” you lie, because what else are you supposed to say?

His body is warm as he lays down beside you. “You played your part well,” Rhys encourages. “No one will think twice about where you’ve gone.”

You’re an idiot, but you’re not quite sober enough to think better of it as you ask, “Is that all this is? A game?”

Rhys uses a bit of his power to snuff the candles out, bathing the room in utter darkness. “It’s necessary-”

You roll onto your side, finally daring to look at him, as best you can in the dark anyway. “But is that all you want it to be?” You press.

He’d been laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, but at your words he rolls over too, so you’re once again nose to nose, practically sharing a breath.

“Wanting anything is dangerous, Y/N.”

“So all that you said earlier, about wanting me, that was just for show? This is just a mask?”

“It keeps you safe,” he says so low it's almost a growl.

“But it’s not what you want?”

“I can’t…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me, I cannot want anything other than to get out of here.”

Your eyes sting and you’re glad for the dark, glad that it hides the tears welling up in your eyes. “I can play this part, if that’s what we need to fulfill this bargain,” it’s a concentrated effort to keep your voice steady, but you mean it. If this is all it will be, then you will have to find a way to live with it, because at least your mate will be alive. And maybe, if Amarantha sees anything like what you two had been doing tonight, then maybe she’d direct that anger at you instead of him. You could find a way to use it to protect him, the same way he’d used it for you.

He’s your mate, whatever you have to do to make sure he survives, you’ll do it. Even if it tears you apart inside.

“But please, just tell me that it’s not real, that you don’t really want me, so that I can prepare, so that I don’t overstep. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

His pause feels like it spans an hour, the silence ticking away like a clock in the darkness. “I…”

You stamp down the hope flaring in your chest, it’ll be easier to deal with if he is up front that he doesn’t see you as anything but a means to an end. “What do you want, Rhys?”

He growls, the sound skittering across your bones as he throws an arm around your waist and crashes his lips against yours. “You,” he says into your mind. “I want you in any way you’ll have me.”

The ink on your chest warms, feels strangely like it’s glowing beneath your skin as the solid weight of him settles on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. You're a tangle of limbs and teeth, as he kisses you like it might be his only chance to.

You drag your hands down the sharp contours of his spine, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as his tongue slides behind your teeth to taste you. This is far better than any drug, no amount of mirthroot could ever make you feel this high.

“You’re ok with this?” He pants into your lips, finally coming up for air.

“More than ok,” you confirm and that’s all it takes for him to start sliding the straps off your dress, pulling the tight fitting bodice slowly from your body. The chill in the air is only a momentary discomfort before his hands and lips chase it away as he follows the fabric down your body.

Thank the Mother for the privacy of the room, that you hadn’t managed to get your top off like you’d tried to do in the throne room, because the noise you let out when he gets his mouth around your nipple is embarrassingly loud, whole body flushed crimson. You clamp your hand over your mouth when he does the same move on your other breast, or at least you try to, that slithering ether of power snags your wrist and pins it above your head before you can cut off the noise.

“None of that,” he hums into your skin, teeth scraping your skin. “Want to hear you.”

Cauldron he’ll be the death of you!

It’s his power that whisks the glamor away from the bargain mark so he can run his lips over the ink, tracing the flower petals and vines. “We should make more bargains, you look so pretty with all this ink.”

You huff a laugh as you scrape your nails through his hair, making a mess of it. “What kinds of bargains?”

He kisses lower, pulling the dress down towards your hips, following it again. “That you’ll let me taste you like this once a day for the rest of eternity,” he suggests as he lifts your hips to get the dress lower.

“I’m not wasting a bargain on that,” you huff, though you’re embarrassed to admit the way the suggestion makes heat pool in your core.

“You’re right, twice a day is more practical,” he says as he slips both the dress and your underthings off in one fell swoop. Strong arms wrap around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and you barely have time to draw a shaky breath before he’s running his tongue up your center.

“I-” all thought and argument eddies from your mind as your body arches under his ministrations.

“More than that, perhaps?” He teases, adding a finger to the mix, even as his tongue swirls through your quickly budding arousal.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling his hair as you try and guide him deeper. “Rhys,” you whimper. He feels so good; so perfect. Nothing else would ever compare; he’s barely touched you and you’re fully ready to come apart already.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out as his tongue flicks over your clit, the combination making your head spin. You screw your eyes shut as your body tightens, muscles taut as a bow string as your pleasure builds too fast to prepare for. He might still be talking nonsense about bargains but you genuinely can’t hear a word he says against the white noise tearing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. It’s right where the flower-what did he say it was called? Datura?-sits over your heart that you feel the bond between your souls, like a tether of glittering starlight. It’s been there, faint before, just enough of a tether to let you feel a bit of him at the other end, but now it thrums with his power, like it’s searching for your own. A call like the one he’d sent out on Calanmai, and you can’t tell if he’s testing to see if you know it’s there, or if it’s you pulling on it, begging to be closer to him as your high crashes over you.

Rhys kisses his way back up your body, lips damp with your arousal. “You know?”

The disbelief in his tone brings you back to reality. Your shields had been down and you’d just…

You push yourself up on your elbows. “You knew?” You counter.

He brushes his lips over the bargain mark again, distracting himself from looking into your eyes as he says, “I suspected, before Calanmai, but afterwards, when I saw you for real, not just as a dream, it clicked.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

Another kiss on your heated skin, body relaxing under his touch. “For decades,” he whispers. “And I told myself that it was enough, that I’d leave it there, where you were safe and far away from all of this, but then there were whispers in the court about at a weapon Hybern was looking for. The more she had me look into it, the more my dreams started making sense, the better I could see you.”

You brush your fingers through the hair falling over his eyes, prompting him to finally look at you. “When she narrowed down that you were in Spring, she started sending me out on Calanmia to look for you, thinking it might mask all her hunters with those coming to the party. It was my only chance to reach you and I had every intention to get you to leave Spring.”

He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips. “I never meant to let you see me, but you were so scared and she decided to come out herself for the first time in years and I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if she got her hands on you first.”

Your eyes sting at the confession. Your selfless mate, who through all these years of trauma, had still been willing to let you go without ever getting to see you if it meant you didn’t end up here.

“I swore that I’d do everything in my power to get you out, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away, no matter how much I tried to. You needed me and I… I need you.”

You’re not entirely sure how useful you’ve been to him in all of this, but you let him speak anyway.

“Not just this,” he says, gesturing to your bodies. “But for all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

You sit up as best you can around the weight of him over you so you can grip his face. “I’m not stuck with you. I’m choosing you. I want you, Rhys.”

The disbelief in his eyes makes your heart ache and you lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose. “Not just for this,” you repeat, gesturing to your bodies as he had done. “Though it is amazing.”

He grins at that.

“And not just this,” you drag his hand over the ink on your chest. “But for whatever is beyond this. When it’s all over, when we’ve won and we’ve got her stupid head on a pike, I want to explore whatever comes next with you.”

He kisses you then, eagerly, a little less frantic than before, but with no less desire, the taste of your arousal still faint on his swollen lips. You lean back into the mattress, pulling him down with you.

“I know this whole thing is twisted and terrifying, but I want to walk with you through it. Together.”

“Together,” he confirms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A new bargain mark zaps across your skin, over your palm, where your hands are intertwined, a twin to the one on his own hand.

“I still think I made an excellent bargain offer,” he says as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re insufferable, Rhysand,” you laugh.

“I think the word you’re thinking of is insatiable,” he counters as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“That too,” you reply as you arch your back, the tip of his cock gliding through your arousal. It’s a little more of stretch than you're used to, but the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he slowly rocks his hips into yours, taking his time to let you adjust. He really will ruin anyone else for you, not that you’ll ever want anything other than this from here on out.

“Darling,” he purrs, or tries to, the groan he lets out as he fully seats himself inside you makes shivers run up your spine. “You have no idea how insatiable I can be.”

You rock your hips, prompting him to move, to match your rhythm, to fill and take and claim you as your body has been begging him to all night long. “I think you should show me.”

The laugh he lets out sounds more like a growl as he picks up his pace, one hand braced against the headboard to give him more leverage as he slides nearly out of you and slams back in. You cling to his shoulders, nails gliding over his sweat-dampened skin for leverage, his name a whimper on your lips.

The bond between you glitters, swells with all the affection and desire he feels for you as he shoots in down to you. For all the pain and trouble it had caused, you think you still you might have come out earlier on Calanmai, just to feel this sooner.

You whimper his name again and again as your high once again draws closer, your body white hot.

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear and judging by the frantic rutting of his hips you know he’ll be right there with you. Together in this, as you will be in the rest of it. You let yourself fall, unrestrained, as pleasure washes over you, your mate giving a shout as he follows close behind. The two of you topple into the sheets, clinging to each other as you catch your breath.

“You ok?” He asks as you cling tightly to him, even as your body relaxes.

You nuzzle your face into his chest. “I’m with my mate, how could I not be?” Whatever tomorrow holds, whatever dangers lie ahead, you can rest knowing that you’ll be together for it.

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

Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish, @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomevesey, @localfangirl09, @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msoldier

#rhysand x reader #Rhys x reader #rhysand x reader smut #Rhys smut #acotar smut #acotar rhys #acotar fic #my writing #my fanfic #datura fic #acotar fluf #UTM!rhys #UTM!Rhys x reader #UTM!Rhys smut

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popjunkie42 · 11 months

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ACOTAR fan fiction recs by meee!

If you’ll indulge me, I’ve been reading so much fan fiction lately and wanted to share the ones I am absolutely feral for. Everything is Feysand because that is my jam. Some have spice. I love them all with my entire heart. Trying to tag authors I know on tumblr but if I miss someone please let me know. Some possible spoilers for the series in descriptions below.

If you can’t figure it out my favorite genre is Under the Mountain what-ifs mixed with ACOMAF what-ifs but there are also a few modern AUs in here, among others.

Never Alone by Frufrusc - Is this my favorite fanfic ever? If you loved Time Traveler’s Wife you will love this. The writing, the dialogue…all of it perfect. A mysterious old magic visits Rhys (and eventually Feyre) first on Calanmai and takes both of them back in time to their mates when they needed them the most. If the thought of Rhys getting 9-year-old Feyre a birthday cake makes you melt then this is the fic for you. Still updating and the new chapter is fire. I would die for this fic.

What Dreams May Come by Anonymous - Rhys gets mysteriously ill during Feyre’s visit to the Night Court in early ACOMAF. This is adorable and sweet and angsty all at once and the characters are too. Feyre reads Rhys his favorite childhood stories in bed while he’s sick and they write notes back and forth while she’s back in Spring. Rhys cries because he loves her so much. Finished fic and if this is you please drop in my messages so I can heap all the love upon you.

A Court of Faded Dreams by @the-lonelybarricade - The one and only, maybe what started me back on fan fiction after not reading it for literal decades. After events in ACOWAR, the Cauldron sends Feyre back to the Spring Court before UTM while she is still human, with all her memories and she gets a chance to do it all again. Separate Rhys POV chapters that are everything. CALANMAI. Feyre and Rhys desperately trying not to touch each other so the mating bond doesn’t snap into place while UTM. Soft Rhys basically dying because he loves Feyre so much. It’s the best.

The Portrait of a Male by HopeLions13 - A warning that this one goes heavy on the SA, it’s kind of like if ACOTAR was done by Game of Thrones/HBO people. This fic is so good it makes me want to die. Rhys realizes Feyre is his mate on Calanmai and whisks her away to Velaris while he’s still stuck UTM. Of course this will not stand, so Feyre makes her way there to claim her mate she barely knows except through the stories from the Inner Circle. It is wrenching, and hot as HELL, and rewrites canon in wonderful and brilliant ways. The way things end after the third trial sets my brain on fire.

Darling.exe by @damedechance - Modern AU with Professor!Rhys. Feyre is a college art student taking a biology class with her friend Lucien. She wasn’t prepared for her insanely hot Professor, who she recognizes…from his Only Fans. Two chapters so far and I have thought about this fic an ungodly amount. Feyre is adorable in this and Rhys is insufferably hot and smug, as it should be.

I am no god, only woodworm by @damedechance - THE WRITING. In this divergent tale, Feyre wanders in the woods and unwittingly makes a terrible bargain with an absolutely feral and dangerous woodland sprite who commands the night. Please give me wild and creepy god-sprite Rhysand all day long. “I have no need to steal from you, because I need only to kiss you, for the silver to leap from your tongue and onto mine.” UGH

Darling, Let’s Run by @the-lonelybarricade - Again!! Rhys is a black cat, do you need more? Let’s keep going in the vein of Dark!Rhys. Feyre as a human is trying to find her sister Elain, who has disappeared after marrying Greyson and is accused of his murder. She meets a dangerous and mysterious stranger along the way to Velaris and can’t seem to shake him. Hot as hell.

Pomegranate by @mmvalentine - A gods/fairytale-esque story about the High Lord of the Night Court falling in love with the daughter of Spring who’s under the thumb of her terrible father Tamlin. Bonus Feyre beast form.

Dreams by ashesandhoney - An AU where Rhys doesn’t call in the bargain for six months but meets Feyre again at a High Lords ball (yes there is dancing, everyone please write more courtly dancing into your fics). I love this because of the interesting ways they try to control Feyre’s power, how she eventually trains, and Rhys of course being totally in love with her power. “Too thin, too pale, too calm. Feyre wasn't calm. Feyre threw bone spears at tyrants and sobbed until she could barely breathe and stormed into underground citadels because she loved so deeply it hurt. Feyre was anger and love and defiance all wrapped up in a fragile mortal body.”

Please enjoy as I have. And I’m always open to your Feysand recs. I’m sure there are more to add but this post has already gotten out of control. Thank you to everyone writing and being amazing on tumblr, I love you dearly.

#acotar #feysand #acomaf #fanfic #acotar fanfiction

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matenrou-fan · 1 year

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Can you write a fic about Samatoki having a little sister (around age 18-16) getting bullied both mentally and physically in school. like, they bully her bc her brother is a gangster, bc she's an orphan, etc.

Then, Samatoki found out about this when he came to her school to pick her up and he saw her getting bullied. Thanks for your hard work!!

Samatoki found out his little sister is getting bullied

hii!! hii, sweetheart!! I do hope this is just one of your angsty fantasies and such problems not in touch with your real life! Please always remember that you should tell people around you about such things without any shame, it's not your fault!

Also.. S/o is a significant other so I thought that y/n would suit this fic better!!

femreader, family relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, abuse and bullying obvs;; 1330 words

"Y/n? Did you pack all your things?"

Instead of any response you just nod, still a little bit busy with your own thoughts. Even the casual soft smile of your brother, Samatoki, that he showed only for you, didn't cheer you up today.

"Okay.. I'm kinda in a hurry right now, so I can't take you to school, but I will pick you up on my way back, okay?"

Only when his soft big hand lowered to pat your head, you looked at him.

Samatoki always was so caring, and now, when Nemu was lured to join the Party of Words, he became even more overprotective towards you. Checking everything, from your friends to your mental state, always talking with you on bad days.. But you were able to keep one thing from him, just one thing that you were too ashamed to talk about..

"Oh, look, look! She's here again!"

"And why are you still allowed to visit this school?! We don't want to study in one place with some lowlife!"

"Ahh, quiet, quiet, or her brother would kill us, lol! We heard he's a really aggressive bandit, did he teach you how to make drugs?"

"... my brother is against such a thing.." - you mumble, trying to walk away from an empty corridor to a more crowded place.

Just when it's all started? Maybe in your childhood everything was good, as there was a whole family and you were just a young cheerful girl, blind to the cruel world around. But now, when there's only your brother around you, everything gets so strange, so dark, so hard.. Just why is it so hard to be around people? You didn't change at all, still trying to be friendly and helpful to people around you, then why did they change their attitude so much?

When it just started you were sure it's something like a temporary phenomenon, so you didn't talk about this with Samatoki. Zero reaction and it starts to be boring for your bullies and they move to another target, right? You really were waiting patiently for this moment to come, but you're in high school now and it's still here, just like a daily, casual thing in your life. It's ingrained in the subcortex of your consciousness so much that you get so used to the thought about being different in this circle, that there's no point in complaining to your brother.

And even on bad days when you feel more down than usual, his words about you being the most precious, unique girl in the world didn't light up your heart to the point to kindle a fire of resistance. There's no burning fight in you, more like ashes of humility. Like, yeah, you hear his words of appreciation everyday, but even more often you heard humiliation from your classmates..

"Are you walking home now? Or on Yakuza's meeting? Don't forget to mention our names then..!"

"This is so stupid.. Please, leave me alone.." - stepping away, you lonely look around the court in front of school, waiting to finally see a familiar car.

"Huh? You're so quiet! There's no way you and this fucker are actually siblings, never thought that you're maybe adopted?" - one of your bullies grabs your forearm, pushing you on the ground with a loud giggle. Small gasp as you meet the hard surface of asphalt accompanied by another surge of laughter.

Others just quickly make a circle around you so any students wouldn't help or even see this, keep repeating his words about you being an adopted orphan. Curled up into a ball, all you can do it's just wish they wouldn't start kicking you like they did last time. Ringing in your ear increased and you almost didn't hear their mockery, crying, when suddenly a low but loud groan shouted above their sneering and scornful voices:

"Move outta the way, or I'll beat your asses!" - the circle around you fell apart and through your fingers you saw the angry face of your brother. - "I'm sure you're all old enough here so I wouldn't get arrested for fighting with minors.."

"Tsk, he's really psychotic.. Let's just head home.." - someone mumbled but Samatoki didn't react, instead getting closer to you.

His hand quickly wrapped around your shoulders and he carefully lifted you up a little. The only thought that bothered him right now was worry about the possibility that you were hurted, so he quickly examined your arms and face, only then turning to them again.

"YOU better go home now, before I turn you all into a mush!" - low scoff makes the last of your bullies run away, and you get all alone with your brother.

"Samatoki-"

"I'm sorry." - his voice drops to a soft tone again, even more gentle than usual. - "I'm sorry that I failed like a brother.."

He helped you get up, still touching your hands very lightly, as if he actually was still afraid there's some wounds or bruises he didn't notice before. Checking you once again, only a few scratches from your fall were found by his attentive gaze, and Samatoki sighs, patting your head.

"Why did you say that..?" - small sobs make your lips tremble and you feel like you would cry again, but for an absolutely other reason.

"Cause it's my fault I didn't notice this before.."

His words just pull your heart even more and you cling to his chest, crying again. Absolutely ashamed, you feel like you didn't deserve even such care after being the reason why everything got to such a point, so when his hands wrap around your shoulders, patting your back in a soothing manner, you just cry more.

"No.. It's all my fault, I thought I could manage on my own.. It's all my fault." - finally, all this pain that you hid from your brother breaked through your happy facade, revealing in words. - "It's my fault that I'm so weak and stupid!"

"Sh. Don't say that.." - Samatoki sighs, holding you more tightly.

Despite waves of rage still boiling in him, he can't even get too angry at you for such thoughts, the only feeling it's cause in his chest is guilt for his own negligence.

"Listen here, sis.." - his hand traveled to your chin so you would look up at him. - "Never ever a weak person should be ashamed of his weakness. It's not your fault that you're so soft, it's their fault for having a lack of morality and self-confidence. Think about it, would you ever hurt someone who's powerless in front of you?"

You only shake your head, still sobbing.

"Exactly. Because you didn't need to feel control over someone to feel your own importance. Only strong people look at everyone equally and not hurt weaker ones, but help them.. That means you're stronger than they're, y/n."

Such a viewpoint.. It never comes to your mind like this and for a moment you look away, thinking about deep words of your brother. He is right, why would a confident person try to prove his strength only next to people he's sure of defeating..?

"But.." - the brows of your brother suddenly twitch as he furrows them in disappointed expression. - "Next time, always tell me if something like that happened, okay? Don't think you're a burden or something to me? You're my family, after all.."

Family.. Small soft smile appears on your lips again and you nod, walking with Samatoki to his car as he mumble about all the scratches he needs to take care of now.

Maybe there's no big family for you, only a big brother and only a sister that now is far away. And maybe these bullies try to mock you about this, but still.. They live in full, happy families where no one knows about mutual support and morality.

So what's better - a big family with tiny empty hearts or a small, but such caring and loving duo of you and your brother..?

#hypmic x reader #hypmic imagines #hypmic #hypnosis mic #samatoki aohitsugi x reader #hypmic samatoki #hypnosis mic samatoki #samatoki aohitsugi #samatoki x reader

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saengak · 7 months

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Hii, saengak ❤️ If possible, wrt the ‘get to know your writer’ prompt! Could we do 74? [after reading your Naruto fics and then ofc, FSHOTS 🥹🫶🏼, I’m so curious to know whether you feel like there’s recurring themes/styles in your writing… ‘cause I really couldn’t seem to find any (other than the fact that I absolutely loved everything you wrote 🫠🌹)] Also, I’m dying to know 76 as well, for FSHOTS, ‘cause the universe you’ve so masterfully created is just so inherently dark that I often wondered whether it was tough to stay on track and not be led astray, down scarier roads…

Hiiii eclairfair ❤️ awww thank you so much for the lovely ask and sorry for taking so long to get to it ❤️

74. You've posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you'd written it?

It would be extremely gay. And angsty. It's the pining and devotion that gets me 👌 hahahhahaa

I like to put characters in situations where, even though they are good people and will in the end be nothing less than devoted to each other, they hurt each other either through circumstance, accident or mistake. Case in point: FSHOS and your fingerprints on my skin, my two IceMav fics. I also like arranged marriage AUs, slave AUs, etc. though I don't think I've published any yet.

Or, the blorbos would find each other in dire circumstances and fall in love gradually from the intimacy of relying on each for survival. Example: the ruins of our lives.

As for style (oh god, I'm exposing myself here AHHAAH):

em dash: I love them. So Much. One thing I like to do is to end a line of dialogue with it when a character gets interrupted mid-sentence.

dramatic one liners: I need to ration myself or I'll do it all the time.

comma splices: it's not grammatical but I like it. I probably use them more than I should but I try to be mindful of how I use it and how it affects the rhythm my writing.

use of names: you know that "the taller man" / "the aviator" / "the older man" thing people like complaining about in fanfics? Unless the descriptions are relevant to what's happening, I try to avoid those descriptions and just use their names instead. It does pose another problem though: overuse of names. I'm still figuring out how to balance it hahahah!

switching POVs: I try to ration out time to explore each side of the ship's thoughts

So there it is. Guide to identifying (recent) saengak fics 😂

76. Did you have any ideas that didn't make the final cut of FSHOS?

(Spoiler alert for FSHOS in case anyone else is reading this.)

Here's a scarier road that branched off from Chapter 22: David makes Mav disappear. He finds the transfer form with the buyer signature still blank and just... kidnaps him. Gets a few goons and stuffs Mav kicking and screaming into the trunk.

By the time Ice finds out, it's because someone has filed the paperwork to pull Mav out of the Navy. David has handed Mav off to a third party and Mav is already on his way out of the country.

(Spoiler alert for this potential fic... I don't think I'll manage to write it but just wanted to warn.)

Ice is on the WARPATH. He knows his father is behind this but he just can't find Mav anywhere and can't pry his location out from between his father's lying teeth, so he makes good on his promise and drags the Kazansky name through an all-out shit show of a campaign to take down omega trafficking. Maybe Ice's mom's alpha helps cause she's a banging lawyer.

Legally speaking, Ice is in an absolutely terrible position but it is an unprecedented case that opens up to a lot omega rights arguments. The media eats up the drama and there are investigations, protests, etc... and the omega rights lawyers/activist all flock him wanting to make this The Case to overturn omega laws.

They are in and out of court all day every day. There are TIME magazine articles: WHERE IS MAVERICK? reads the heading, with a grainy, candid picture of Mav in his Navy uniform. The Washington Post has a picture of Ice walking down the steps of the courthouse with dark circles and a glare, and David is somewhere further behind him, stepping through the courthouse doors with his face shielded: KAZANSKY V. KAZANSKY - the generational chasm.

Ice can't look at the news without feeling like throwing up but he knows how to play the game and he plays it well.

I have some thoughts on how Ice would win: national security concerns for one, to void all omega sale contracts out of the country, cause Mav is privy to Navy secrets. Undue duress of some sort is another option to void the transfer form. Finally, if omegas rights are granted, all omega contracts could be voided!!

That's all and good, but we still have one problem: seriously, where is Mav? It's no use winning in court and winning omega rights if he can't get Maverick back safe???

*turns back the clock*

Ice knew this from the start. He had hoped that dragging the Kazansky name through the mud would force his father to capitulate and hand Mav back, but he knows that (i) he could fail, (ii) it would take a long time even if he succeeded, and (iii) it means nothing if Mav is gone.

So he sends his best friend, Slider, on a mission.

Slider has his rifle ready. He has a fast car. "I'll get him back Ice. I promise," he growls. So off our best boy Slider goes, zooming off and sniffing the ground like a bloodhound to track down their precious Mav.

(Meanwhile Mav is rattling the bars of his cage, biting shitty alphas, gnawing through ropes and escaping into the wilderness.)

Slider finds him dehydrated and sunburnt on the border but he's safe. He's safe!

Omega rights: won. Mav: back home. Slider: extremely relieved and proud. Ice: weepy mess ❤️

❤️The end❤️

Even though I thought out this whole AU, I didn't go down this path because (1) I had already thought out the protest and the "canon" fic ending, and (2) I wanted Mav to be in a mentally healthier / more stable state when he re-started his relationship with Ice.

In contrast, the scarier Ch22 AU would give Mav a hugeeee amount of trauma (Ice too) and would probably end up with Ice being extremely protective and Mav accepting it, for stability's sake, while they heal together.

Again, thank you for this great ask!!! ❤️❤️🌻

#asks #flat spin heading out to sea #eclairfair98

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clouded-dreams2 · 2 years

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SUPREME STRANGE IS SO PURRRR i miss the beard but like. hes still MMmMm

okay but imagine a fic where instead of strange using the darkhold its the reader and stephen has to watch as the love of his life succumbs to the darkness jsks

okay sorry i just. have many thoughts about the strange variants

a/n: There's a reason he's called Supreme Strange. Bad joke, I’m sorry. This is angsty, I do hope you like it. This is my first-time writing angst; I do hope its good.

Warnings: ANGST, Death, SPOILERS to Multiverse of Madness, Darkhold it should be a waring in itself.

Characters: Supreme Strange, Gn!Reader

“W-what are you doing?” Stephen stuttered confused. He saw the dark of your fingers, the darkhold open. The red magic of the darkhold surrounded you. He wanted to know the reasoning behind you using the darkhold. To him you didn’t have a reason, you had everything you could possibly need. A loving husband, Good friends, etc. If they found out he and the illuminati would have to kill you. He wasn’t ready to accept that fate, he just hoped you hadn't been using the darhold longer than what he knew.

“Stephen!” You shot your eyes open, dropping to the floor. He wasn’t supposed to see you, he wasn't supposed to be home. He caught you completely by surprise, you closed the darkhold. You both stood in silence, tense silence. You thought you would manage to get away with it, but you started using the darkhold more often. You started getting addicted to it, it became the answer to all your problems. You became distant from Stephen, distant from the illuminati, distant from Captain Carter, distant from everyone. Stephen on the other hand became incredibly busy with the illuminati they knew the darkhold had been discovered, they knew someone was using it Stephen just never suspected it to be you.

“Why do you have the darkhold?” He was stern, realizing how far you had been with the darkhold. He knew his and everyone's course of action. He could tell how far you had been. He’d be the one to turn you in, no matter how much it pained him. You disrupted the thing he fought the hardest for.

“I have the power of the multiverse at my fingertips, Stephen. You would do the same for so much power.”

“If you truly believe that. You are not my (y/n), you are not the person I married.” His words hurt, they hurt the side of you that still cared. His words hurt him more than you. He knew he would have to be on the same staff that would ultimately be the end of you.

“What? Do you intend to take me in? Be a part of the people who brought your lover to the long awaited demise?” He tried to hold back tears, he did what he had too. The next thing you knew you were on trial in front of the council magic bounds trapping your wrists and ankles. If you wanted to you knew you could use the power everything in you was going to use the power. The one percent of you fought for control of your body, the control to not use the darkhold.

“You are the one who has been using the darkhold. You have committed treason against this timeline and the Illuminati.” Charles spoke.

“I don’t want it in my mind anymore. I don’t want to be controlled by it. Please.” You pleaded guilty, once the darkhold had a hold of someone it didn’t let up. You just had to be stronger.

“(y/n)..” Stephen took a deep breath. He tried to subside any emotion that he felt, he knew he would break seeing you gone. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I hereby close this court and announce you are guilty.” He gritted his teeth. The others could see it wasn’t easy, having to sentence the love of your life to death, for the greater scheme of things. You looked up at him, the pleading expression in your face was so raw. Everyone could tell you really had been battling the darkhold. The next thing you remembered was making eye contact with Stephen, mouthing that you loved him as your hands placed themselves on your thighs. Your black fingertips digging into the leather of your suit. You saw Stephen letting tears run down his face as you had done the same. You knew what was going to happen and you started to cry right before everything went black. You couldn’t feel, you couldn’t see, you were gone.

#supreme strange #supreme strange x reader #multiverse of madness #doctor strange multiverse of madness #multiverse of madness spoilers #gn!reader #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #established relationship #benedict cumberbatch #x reader #stephen strange x reader #supreme strange fanfiction

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tswaney17 · 2 years

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Give Me Love

This fic has been one of my favorites to write for @elriel-month. It really let me get into Az's angsty mind and I loved getting to explore that part of him. The whole fic is inspired by Ed Sheeran's song, Give Me Love. I recommend listening to it while reading for the full experience. I wrote it while having it on repeat. 😘 Please enjoy! 💙💜💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: language, very light adult descriptions

Word Count: 3,172

Family dinners.

Normally he didn’t mind them. Enjoyed them.

But now he dreaded them. Used alcohol to get through them.

Tonight though…tonight he hated them. He hated having to sit there and smell that bond. To scent that tether between the Autumn Court male and the female who so thoroughly had captured the icy heart of Night Court’s spymaster. To see it as a weak piece of twine—a ribbon if you will—between them, hooked to a rib in her chest, dully glowing. Muted until she eventually fell for him and accepted the bond and it turned into something thicker, stronger.

Gods, he fucking hated ribbons.

It was inevitable, he had told himself over and over again. She would eventually find happiness with Lucien and Azriel would learn to live with it. He’d have to learn to live with it. He had no other choice; not with his High Lord’s order bearing down on him every time he looked at her for too long. With every longing glance, every pitiful wish that it was him she was bonded to—even though he had done nothing to deserve it. Azriel was well aware of the fact that he was unworthy of Elain Archeron.

But who the fuck was? Certainly not the ginger prince sitting across the table.

He hated gingers too.

The Cauldron-blessed Seer. The rightful heir to the title, Kingslayer, though he knew it was not one she desired to have bestowed upon her. The fawn, bringer of light, a grower of life and of beauty around her. Lovely, beautiful, gentle, kind, Elain. His polar opposite in every way.

Perhaps that was why he fell for her so hard and so fast. She burned so brightly and fuck did he want to drown in her light. In his nearly six centuries, Azriel had come to the conclusion that it was lonely with darkness as your only companion. He was tired of it. Tired of being held down and restrained to fit his court, his brother’s demands. Tired of living in his darkness and melancholy.

Rhys found his happiness and fought for it.

Cassian found his and fought for it.

But when Az tried to fight for his, it was snatched away. Like every other good thing in his life. He should be used to the disappointment by now, but when it came from somebody he loved, he trusted, it stung that much more.

He shot back the rest of his whiskey with every intention of leaving just as Elain breezed in from the kitchen, a tray of baked goods in her hands.

She looked stunning in her rose-colored dress—no sign of the cobalt or deep blues he loved to see on her since Solstice. Tonight, she had all of her hair pulled up, letting the tail swish as she walked. A few strands fell around her face, framing the delicate features of her cheekbones, her brows, enhancing her straight nose and pert, delectable mouth that he very nearly kissed months ago.

Azriel nearly groaned with need when he first saw her. The hairstyle gave him a full view of her perfect neck, the one he stroked as he put that godforsaken necklace on her.

He immediately regretted giving it away and returned to Clotho the next day requesting it back. He had no desire to let Gwyn or any other priestess have that necklace. It was Elain’s and always would be. The idea of it sitting around some other female’s neck made his stomach turn with nausea. He was grateful to have gotten it returned; likely would’ve yanked it right off the neck of whoever was wearing it if he ever saw it on somebody else.

Clotho had smirked at him the next afternoon, simply writing on that piece of paper that she had kept it safe for his return, knowing he would likely be back for it.

Az still thought about that night with Elain—about how her skin felt when he touched her. How she sounded as his fingers swept over her. He was ashamed to think about how often he now fisted his cock to those thoughts. To the scent of her arousal that he now had first-hand knowledge of what it smelt like. That sweetness he desperately wanted to taste.

If she knew, he thought to himself.

Almost as if she heard him, her brown eyes flicked towards him. To anyone else, they’d see a blank expression on her face. But they could always read each other so much better than the others could. And he saw that underlining hurt still lined those doe-eyes he loved so much.

She looked away, sitting down next to Mor and as far away from Lucien as she could possibly get.

One day, he reminded himself. One day she would love her mate and that would be that.

He needed to leave. Maybe he could get in a late-night training session atop the House of Wind. Hopefully alone this time. Rising from his chair, he turned to his High Lord and Lady. “I’m heading out. I have things I need to take care of,” Az lied smoothly. He glanced at her; forced her to look at him. “Dinner was delicious, Elain, as always.” It was a bland acknowledgment, but he meant every word. Every damn word.

Her cheeks turned an adorable shade of red, but she nodded all the same. “Thank you.”

It was two of twenty-four words she had said to him since Solstice. Not that he was counting. He collected those little spoken treasures like precious gems. Locking them away in a dark part of his heart. He gave her a curt nod before excusing himself and hastily making a retreat to the front door.

Azriel was barely to the street when he heard the footsteps behind him. The summer rain was starting to sprinkle down on him, dampening his tunic and souring his already piss-poor mood.

“Hey!” came Elain’s voice.

He whirled, eyes wide as he watched her run towards him. His heart beat frantically in his chest.

Elain reached him, dress skirts swishing, breathing heavily like she bolted from the house and ran as fast as she could to catch him before he shot into the sky. “Where are you going?” she finally asked.

Az raised a brow. “I’m going home.” Had he not been clear enough?

She blinked up at him as something passed over her face. Something he couldn’t quite interpret. “Why?”

The question caught him off guard. Why what? Why was he leaving? Why did he leave that night? Why did he call her a mistake? Why did he fuck up the only good thing in his life? There were many possibilities for what she was asking, so he went with the safest option.

“I told you, I have things I need to get done—”

“No,” she interrupted. “Why are you leaving dinner? Why can you barely stand to be in the same room as me?” she huffed out a small breath. “Why did you leave me that night? What’s the real reason? Stop with the bullshit excuses and tell me.” She was angry.

Good. He deserved her anger.

He just stared at her, hazel eyes flicking over her face. Before he could begin to form a response, the Mother opened up the gates of heaven, and rain emptied from the sky in drenching downpours. They were soaked instantly, though Elain didn’t seem to care as she stood there, hair and ponytail matted to her neck; the dress clung to all of her sinful curves. He extended a wing out to shield her from the onslaught of Mother Nature, but she was having none of that, shooting a hand out and pressing it to the inside of the sensitive membrane, shoving it away. He hissed at the contact, feeling it all the way to his cock.

“No,” she snarled. “You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to pull what you did on Solstice, call me a mistake, then avoid me for months without so much as an explanation, then try and cover me with your wing as if you care about my well-being. That’s not fair, Azriel, and you know it.”

He froze, body locking at his name on her lips. She had never said his name before. Never uttered the syllables, at least not in his presence. And gods, he never wanted her to stop saying it, would get on his knees and beg her to speak his name over and over again. Whisper it, scream it, moan it. Anything.

“Are you just going to stand there?” she demanded, drenched.

Az swallowed. “Say it again, please,” he breathed, barely loud enough for her to hear over the heavy rainfall.

Elain crossed her arms, emphasizing her ample bosom. “Tell me the truth and I will.”

He groaned, running a scarred hand through his shaggy, sopping hair, droplets flying everywhere as it flopped back onto his forehead. “I do care about you, don’t ever think that I don’t.” He needed her to know that, first and foremost. “And I didn’t want to leave, Elain. Fuck there are several things I wanted to do that night,” he looked at her earnestly, “but leaving you wasn’t one of them.”

Her lips turned down into a frown. “Then why did you?”

His order weighed on him; gripped him by the neck to hold him in compliance. He knew if Elain were to guess it, then it held no sway over him, but until she did, he was duty-bound to it. “I was forced,” he choked out.

Those intelligent eyes widened. The ones that saw things others couldn’t—like him but in a different way. “Forced?” her voice was a hushed whisper. “By who?”

He gave her a knowing look. One that asked her who had the power to control and manipulate him, them, like this.

It didn’t take her long to draw a conclusion. “Rhys,” she breathed. “Rhys commanded you away.”

And just like that, his order vanished, like a weight was lifted off his chest. Azriel took a gasping breath, scarred hand going straight to his sternum and rubbing at it.

Elain stepped closer, concerned. She reached out, as if she were going to touch him but thought better of it and curled her fists into her chest. “What’s wrong?”

Deep breaths whooshed in and out of him. Free. He was finally fucking free. Tears sprang into his eyes, falling off his cheeks like paint splatters on his tunic as he looked at her like she was everything the world revolved around.

Because in his life, in his world, everything did revolve around her. She was the center of his axis, his gravity keeping him tethered to this planet. He took a step towards her as if to pull her into his arms, but Elain countered with a step back, splashing into a puddle.

Her pained expression was like a knife to his heart. “Don’t, please. You still need to tell me everything first.”

He nodded in understanding. This was it. When he laid everything out for her and let her decide whether she washed her hands of him or if she decided he was worth taking a chance on. He had to clear away the emotion clogging his throat. “I wanted to kiss you, Elain. I wanted to do so many things to you that night. Such wonderful, pleasurable things that you’d think about me, feel me for days afterward.”

She sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t interrupt.

“But Rhys caught us and pulled me up to his office. I’m not going to get into the nitty-gritty details of that exchange because they aren’t worth repeating, but he ordered me to stay away from you, Elain. Threatened me.” Rain sloshed down, soaking him to the bone. He could see her starting to shiver even though it was a summer storm, the temperature cooling off enough to make her lips turn from the lushest pink to tinged with blue.

“If there is one thing you should know about being a part of Rhys’s inner circle is that you are duty-bound first. You take a vow to him and this court. So, when he laid down that order on me, it physically gripped me, Elain. I swear I couldn’t tell you what he did or it would—it would…” he stuttered, unable to get the words out.

But she didn’t need him to finish. “It would’ve killed you.” For the first time in months, since Solstice, Elain looked at him, not with bland indifference or hurt, but anguish. “Why would he do that to you? To us?” she asked, brow furrowed. Her arms wrapped around herself and he wasn’t sure if it was for comfort or warmth.

He didn’t dare offer his wing again; didn’t think he’d be able to handle her touching it a second time. “Rhys has some political agenda going on that he believes your mating bond will likely cause an issue for. Lucien, as a son of the Autumn Court, has a right to call in what’s known as a Blood Duel.”

“I’ve heard it mentioned in passing but nobody will tell me what that is,” she said, frustrated.

His face softened. “It’s a barbaric tradition only recognized by them, but it’s when one of them demands a fight to the death over something they believe is theirs.”

In the little time he had known Elain, he had seen very little of her temperament. She’d shown small outbursts to Nesta during their spats, but right now, the utter wrath that took over her face was a force to be reckoned with. “How fucking dare they!” she screamed.

Azriel’s brows shot into his hairline at her swearing.

“I am not some toy to be fought over! I am a person! I have a choice! Why don’t they care?” she cried, face falling into the cradle of her palms.

He moved then, slowly to not startle her, and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, tear-stained tracks disappearing in with the rain. “I care, Elain. You will always have a choice.”

“Even if it’s you?” she whispered, blinking up at him. Water clung to her full lashes; danced on her lips now blue from the cold.

Az was not a good male. Had done unspeakable things and sullied his hands that would taint her sacrilege essence. He would’ve fought in his corner for her, but that did not diminish the fact that he did not deserve her. “You could do better than me,” he breathed even as it cracked his very being.

Elain frowned, a dimple forming at the corner of her mouth. “That’s not what I asked,” she argued. Her hand shot out and gripped the front of his tunic, wrinkling the fabric in her fist. “You said I would always have a choice. I asked even if it was with you? If you believe this is truly a mistake, then leave. Be done with me and leave. But don’t you dare say you aren’t worthy of my time and affection, Azriel. Because you aren’t allowed to make that decision. Only I am.”

His name from her lips a second time had him moving before he could stop himself as he cupped her face with his large, scarred palms and kissed her.

Elain melted into him, falling further into his broad chest, her fist holding onto his tunic for dear life like she was afraid if she let go, he’d slip away.

But like hell was he going anywhere. Not as he molded his lips to hers, traced his tongue at the seam asking for entry, and, praise the Mother, was he granted access. He swept in, claiming her in a way he didn’t think she had ever experienced before. Fuck, he hoped she had never experienced it before. Az had no idea how far she had gotten with her prick of an ex-fiancé, but he knew enough about human traditions and human men that it was inadequate to what he would do for her.

Her body shivered against him as she clutched him, hands sliding over his muscled chest, up the strong column of his throat until she could bury her delicate fingers into his dark mop of drenched hair.

Azriel shifted his wings, cocooning them in his warmth as his mouth dragged down her jaw, tilting her head back to expose the skin of her neck. Hands sliding down her body, he tugged her against him by her hips, letting her feel just how much he wanted her, wanted this. His lips found that pounding pulse point, felt it fluttering when he lightly kissed it, scraped his teeth over it.

“Az,” she lightly moaned, dropping her head back even further, giving him more.

Her moaning his name was the best sound he had ever heard in his entire life. He groaned into her skin; worshipped everything she offered him with his lips, teeth, and tongue.

Fuck, she had no idea what kind of vulnerability it was to give someone that much access to their neck. He nuzzled into the juncture of it, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal.

“Please, Azriel. Please get me out of here,” she mumbled, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. She gripped his shoulders, clinging to him.

“What about the others?” he managed to ask, head still slightly on right.

“I’ve feigned a headache. They won’t expect me back at dinner.” She looked up at him, her brown irises swallowed by pupils in lust. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and let him lean into her touch. “Please, Azriel. I want this. I choose you.”

He made some pathetic choking sound, tears filling his eyes. “I choose you, too,” he whispered, kissing her palm. They stood staring at each other, sequestered inside his wings, his warmth, his scent. “I don’t know what to do from here,” he admitted.

She smiled softly. “Give me love, Azriel. Give me your love and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

“You already have it,” he told her. “Always.”

Rising on her tiptoes, Elain kissed him again, like all she wanted was the taste his lips allowed.

He was more than happy to oblige her and only pulled away to ask her a question that had been plaguing him since she had done it earlier. The corner of his mouth curled up. “Have either of your sisters told you what putting your hands on an Illyrian male’s wings does to them and why they don’t allow people to touch them?”

Elain’s face turned a lovely shade of pink, likely remembering how she did touch his wings just a few minutes ago. “No, I don’t believe so.”

That half-smile turned into a full, feral grin. “Well, you’re about to find out.” Without another word, he hauled her wet form into his arms—Elain squealing in delight—and shot them into the sky.

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than their worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

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norel-ravenclaw · 1 year

Note

When you have the time can please you do a Court of Darkness fic where MC spends a lot of time with the other S-Ranks and Lou gets jealous because she’s not spending as much time with him?

Maelstrom

Fandom: Court of Darkness (otome game)

Featured character: Lou

Genre: Slightly angsty jealous romance

Rating: sfw • fluffy

Word count: 650+

Description: All-seeing Lou wants to watch and protect his lover, especially from the charming S-rank Princes. Jealousy and new emotions give way to powerful happiness.

Thanks for the request! Yours is the first one <3 Lou is such a lovely, mysterious character (and one of my faves), so it was fun to write this in a unique way. Hope you like it!

These feelings are yet foreign to me.

Looking into the crystal, rippling with magic, seeing her. Her winsome smile directed at… Prince Akedia.

The somnolent royal blinks up at her with undisguised affection while she holds out a graceful hand to help him to his feet. Together they chat with languid amiability through the courtyard towards the lecture halls.

Only she can inspire Prince Lynt to stand taller like this, to want to try, like this. I understand, because she is the only one who inspires those same things in me. Unconsciously, I stand a little straighter while I watch.

I see as she sighs, a crease deepening between her brows while The Quelsan prince attempts to teach her magic theory. I bristle, my knuckles turning white on the table, wanting nothing more than to sweep in and rescue her from his harsh scowl. To teach her these things with patience and precision.

Before I can leave my post however, a light sparks in her ruby eyes. She rambles off the solution to her own question and finishes with a triumphant cry. Prince Toa heaves a heavy sigh, his scowl melting into a fond smile and chuckle.

She is terribly lovely, glowing with enthusiasm and pride. Vibrancy and… hope. I find myself wishing that she would only direct that loveliness towards me.

Have you ever heard such a wonderful laugh as hers? So full of joy. Shaking her head in affectionate exasperation. A different needle prods my heart at the sight of Prince Luxure’s arm around her waist.

Only I should be allowed such intimate touch as that. She knows this, and dutifully shakes him off. She laughs, chides him; Prince Fenn sighs dramatically. The game is ended.

But the toxicity in my heart is different with the Crown Prince of Invidia. The softness in her eyes, in the curve of her lips, betrays how at ease he makes her feel. He is truly masterful in the art of charm, and his infatuation with her is impossible to overlook.

Unfamiliar emotions and urges swirl through me, watching him battling with his own. The hand on her shoulder is polite, but the shift to stroke her hair in a reassuring gesture leaves me almost breathless with…

Something primal and aggressive. Possessive. Yet, no, I trust her. My precious rose will not be stolen even by the prince of flowers himself.

But in another vision, my confidence is not as certain. Prince Avari crowds her against a wall, the fear and anger clear in her shining eyes. The moment her lips are bound by ancient magic, my tower door is thrown open.

This dark maelstrom claws at my chest, nearly making it heard to breathe. And a maelstrom I am, reckoning angel in white rushing to my heart’s aid.

The dragon huffs, and I cannot tell whether it is smoke or venom that drips from his scowling lips when I arrive. Gathering her into my arms, my eyes douse him with a cold fire. My heart clamours relentlessly with silent fury, even a smile impossible.

Until she looks up at me. Trembling, clinging to me so tightly. Where she belongs. Where I belong.

All at once the rage dissipates, banished by glittering diamond trails marring her lovely face. Replacing it is love that has transcended a thousand lifetimes. In the silence that follows, my shaking hands reclaim her.

Caressing her soft hair, rubbing out the furrow from her brows, kissing away the tears from her now rose-tinted cheeks, and stealing her wavering breath in a kiss.

My heart, my flower, my life, my dearest love…

At last my heart settles. Until, that is, she tells me what is in hers.

Now it’s my turn to get flushed and flustered.

She loves me, she loves me, she loves me.

I love her, I love her, I love her.

And I will keep falling for as many times as I am permitted to meet her in this or any world.

Thanks for reading! Post, repost this, I don’t care lol. Please let me know if you have suggestions on how to improve my writing. But pls be nice bc I am a soft sad bean <3

#norel writes #court of darkness #otome #court of darkness lou #voltage games #otome game #makai nightmare

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solomons-poison · 10 months

Note

Hi Tarren! I read (and re-read) your Geto Suguru + 7. 'Sharing a kiss after not seeing them for an extended period of time' and must say it elicited quite a bit of emotion from me. It cut deep and pulled quite a few tears from me lol 😅 Initially unexpected but then again I did request suguru who is the pinnacle of tragedy and with the upcoming episodes about him, I should have expected a heart ripping romance 😣

I honestly have been slacking on typing this feedback ask because life has been busy (as always 😌) but also because i was indecisive in articulating myself and whether to scale back or just come forward with some personal things that resonate with parts of your writing. Complaining about the cold and pumpkin spices are one thing but more serious things are another beast altogether 😟 In the end, I know it is a matter of comfort levels on both sides so I made sure to re check your pinned posts on both of your blogs before sending this so I wouldn't be crossing any of your boundary lines.

Basically, I related to this a lot. I know all too well the pain of being separated from a lover and being unsure if I would ever see them again only to give them as much love as I can when I am with them before being inevitably parted. It is one of the reasons I actually requested this in the first place. I had gone into this with love for suguru but also for another.

The moments you encapsulated stood out to me in multiple sentences from 'It probably should have been enough of a red flag for you to reject him when he tried to court you. But his levels of charisma were just too powerful' to 'It was just for a few days at a time, but when it happened, he was completly unreachable' to 'As days passed and he didn't show, didn't send you any kind of message, a feeling of dread formed a ball in your stomach, hard and heavy' to 'All you could do was keep moving, keep your mind occupied on anything but your missing lover, before you got overwhelmed with a thousand what-ifs' and finally 'putting on tv or music to fill up the space, make it feel a little less lonely'.

Overall, I am glad you didn't make him into kenjaku (i am never forgiving gege for pulling that on us I swear 😤 why couldn't he have just been a dude with a stitched forehead as either a weird tattoo or healing from a nearly fatal blow from satoru since he did not have shoko to heal him 😭) and I am impressed you were able to convey this all without a single line of dialogue 😮 I already thanked you in advance but I would like to thank you again for writing this. It means a lot to me and I hope that despite my vigilance to make note of your rules, I have not made you uncomfortable with my personal baggage. I noticed another fic with my name on it and I'm definitely coming back with another feedback ask after sleep and groceries 😏 (if you aren't sick of me yet 😖). In the meantime, I hope the rest of the day treats you kindly (as you have with surprising me with another gojo piece 😍)

You are always, ALWAYS appreciated for your feedback!!!!! It means a lot to me to hear people's thoughts on what I write. I don't want to sound egotistical, but at that risk, it's really nice having someone point out particular things I put in and how it impacted them, because as the author, of course it means so much to me that someone noticed. Or especially, that what I did worked as intended/had the impact that I was looking for. And thank you for taking the time to send me this response, too, when you're busy!

Yeah I am also not happy with the Kenjaku route that Gege took (not as in bad writing, but because poor Geto already went through so much and then now to have his body used like a puppet?? Is awful). I couldn't really think of a reason Geto would disappear for a while, which is why it ended up that angsty idea instead haha.

Like I just imagine knowing/loving Geto before he leaves, trying desperately to keep him there before he completely falls to the "dark side". You know that something is wrong, but you don't really know what you can do or how to help. It would just be heartbreaking watching him slowly leaving...

I'm glad I was able convey him! And no worries about it making me uncomfortable, I'll usually be pretty straightforward about what I don't like or isn't allowed, so if there ever is a problem, I'll just let you know. :) and the kiss requests were pretty generic in prompt, giving me a lot of freedom in choosing why you/the reader and Geto would be separated, so it was my fault that it ended up as sad as it did haha, you're not to blame.

And yes! I made a second post for Geto for you that has a much happier note haha, that I hope you like~ but no rush to read it, get your rest and errands, and I'll be awaiting your feedback~

#˗ˏˋ꒰ minx replies ꒱

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hournites · 3 years

Note

I have a potential prompt for a one shot if you are interested.

Would you write a fic where Rick (and the rest of the JSA) are worried about Beth but she finally shows up safely? Everyone is so relieved, especially Rick... so much so that he goes to hug her but he forgets that his hourglass hasn't completely run out yet and squeezes her too tight. Beth is all like "Uhh, Rick? I can't breathe!" So he quickly (and awkwardly) lets her go.

I think it could be slightly angsty but also cute.

The Disappearing Act

They meet back up behind the garage as planned. Yolanda slinks in from above a roof with Courtney blazing in on the seat of her staff behind her, not nearly as concerned for stealth.

Rick shakes his head at the two. “Where’s Jennie and Beth?”

“I’m here!” They all raise their heads up at the sound of her voice floating in the air.

"Wait." She quickly powers down, setting down her lantern as she shakes out her hand. “Where’s Beth?”

“What do you mean?” Rick questions. “She’s supposed to be with you.”

Jennie glances up from her ring with a sharp breath and glowing eyes. “No, she left me to find Courtney after you called.”

Courtney swerves around. “Me? I didn’t call her!”

Yolanda raises an eyebrow. “What call? I was with Court the whole time, she didn't call.”

“I don’t know, she got it through her goggles, so she left.” Jennie took a step back. “I would’ve gone with her, but we were meeting up here now anyway. I thought she’d be here.”

“So Beth’s gone?” Courtney cries. The cosmic staff flares up as she gets more agitated. “How could you lose Dr. Mid-Nite?”

“I didn’t lose her, Courtney, I trust Beth to make her own decisions. This isn’t my fault!”

“Alright!” Rick snaps, stepping between the two of them before things get out of hand. “It’s only been five minutes. How about we try actually calling her?”

Yolanda’s already on it, pressing a hand to the side of her helmet to get a signal through the coms as she stalks. “Dr. Mid-Nite, It’s Wildcat--Do you copy? Or hear me? Anything? Mid-Nite? Beth? Hellooo?”

Rick pulls down his hood and rakes his hand through his hair. “Where were you when this happened, Jennie?”

Jade light leaves Jennie’s eyes as she backs against a wall, holding herself stiffly. “I-I don’t remember."

"Well." Rick gives her five seconds. "Think harder."

"Okay! Okay! Um...I think we were near the office building for The American Dream.”

“Was anyone suspicious with you? Or around you?”

“What kind of question is that? Why would Jennie be with anyone suspicious?”

Courtney rolls her eyes. “I meant did she notice anything?”

“Beth this is Yolanda, this isn’t funny anymore. I’m serious, please say something....”

“No! I don’t think so!”

Rick spins on his heel.

“Where are you going?” Courtney yells after him. “We can’t split up now! What if there’s actually a villain out there?”

“That’s exactly why we need to find her instead of wasting more time.” Rick flips his hourglass. “You get Pat. I’m going to the American Dream with Jennie.”

“I’ll stay here,” Yolanda tells them. She whacks the side of her helmet again. "Dr. Mid-Nite, do you read me?"

Courtney points out her helmet isn’t broken. It’s just Beth not answering, which doesn't get well received by any of them.

"Geez!" Courtney hugs the staff to her chest, with a grimace, properly scolded. “Get Pat and shut up. I got it!”

~.~

Pat jogs out of the Pit Stop, wiping his sweaty brow with a rag when he hears the loud noise coming in from outside. “Did you find her?”

Rick kicks at the garbage cans lined up at the curb.

“I know you’re stressed.” Pat surveys the trash now littered along the sidewalk. “But you’re picking that up. And replacing those bins.”

"Fine!" Rick kicks another one.

Pat’s mouth thins into a straight line, evidently not being listened to.

“That would be a no,” Yolanda fills in with a frown. “Courtney’s circling around her neighbourhood. Pat checked the school. I’m still not getting anything from the coms.”

Rick lists off his search efforts in anxious detail, counting them out on his gloved fingers. “I tried the tunnels since her goggles don’t work down there. The ISA lair was empty. The cells were unlocked. I knocked down Grundy’s old cage, nothing.” He's frantic, tugging at the base of his hourglass, as though getting choked by his remaining time. “There’s nothing! I thought I could find that her goggles fell off or one of her gloves, anything—”

"Dr. Mid-Nite? Please answer. Make a noise if you can hear this. This is Wildcat, are you okay? Dr. Mid-Nite?"

“And I went back to the last place I saw her.” Jennie wilts, sinking down to sit on the steps. She wraps her arms around her knees, the lantern firmly placed at her feet. “This is my fault.”

Yolanda gives up on reaching Beth for a moment, taking a seat beside Jennie to console her.

“I should’ve paired with her,” Rick mutters, just barely loud enough for the others to hear. “We always do these stupid patrols together.”

“The patrols are not stupid!” Courtney butts in with a scoff. The Cosmic Staff charges at Rick in her defense. Unthinking, he swats it away with his strength, sending it flying out in the other direction.

“Hey! Don’t hurt the staff!”

“Whatever, Court!” Rick snaps. “Beth is actually missing and none of us have a clue as to where she is, we’re not going to be talking about your staff’s feelings—”

Yolanda wrings her hands and gets up abruptly. “Maybe the goggles malfunctioned again and she got lost somewhere.”

“She’s literally biked to every square foot of this town.”

“The goggles malfunctioning is a good theory, Yolanda.” Rick opens his mouth to retort and Pat continues before he can start another fight, “I’ve already given Barb a call in case she calls our house. Girls, why don’t you check your cell phones?”

The girls file back into the Pit Stop. Rick hovers by the door, reluctant to go in with them.

“Pat? Why aren’t you worried?” The tone borders on accusatory. Rick’s face is still covered by the dark mask, blending into the dark night, but his concern is transparent through his eyes.

Pat sighs. “It’s only been 2 hours. Beth is a smart girl.”

“She’s a smart, small, pretty girl in Blue Valley. A town full of murderers.”

“I’m well aware of that, Rick.” He pulls the rag out to wipe his face again. “But freaking out and hurting people’s feelings isn’t going to help anybody find her.”

“But—” Rick turns his face away, twisting the chain hanging from his neck again. “Sitting here isn’t helping either!”

We’re gathering clues and searching the town. I didn’t say we’re giving up.” Pat takes his time. “Look, I know you care about—”

“I just don’t know what I’d do if something bad happens to her!” He gestures at himself. “Or if this runs out and I can’t help her. It isn’t like Beth to….go silent.”

Pat claps a hand over the shoulder of Rick’s golden cape. “I know.”

“Pat!” Yolanda bursts out through the side door. Courtney and Jennie quick at her heels. “She’s okay! I heard her voice through the helmet! She’s on her way back!"

“What?” Rick shot up. “Where?”

Though he doesn’t have to look far. She’s at the corner, stumbling in her haste to get to them in the dark. The girls all scream and run and fly out to her, ignoring Pat’s insistence that Courtney and Jennie should at least try to conceal themselves in the middle of the road.

Rick sits back down heavy on the step, flooded with relief.

When Beth makes her way over, Pat checks to make sure she’s not wounded, but she waves him off, yanking down her green cowl. “I’m fine, Mr. Dugan. Just thirsty.”

“I’ll get you water!” Jennie practically shouts, rushing to the kitchenette inside the garage. “We’re never splitting up again!”

“What happened?” Pat exclaims. “We’ve searched the whole town!”

Her eyes slide to Rick and the glowing sand in his hourglass.

“You were all looking for me?”

“Yeah,” says Rick. “I was about to throw up.”

“Someone hacked into my goggles and faked Courtney’s call.” Beth cringes. “The Shade uh...wanted to talk?”

“The Shade?”

Courtney's curls whipped back violently. “He WHAT?”

“I’m okay!” Beth reassures them all again when they panic. “He messed up my goggles so I couldn’t use them until he finished what he had to say. He even dropped me off in his car by Richie’s when we were done talking.”

Courtney prompts, impatient, “And he talked to you about…?”

Beth sighs. “He’s giving Barbara an ultimatum about the Zarick artifacts.”

Yolanda grips onto her arm. “He kidnapped you to make a business arrangement?”

“He let me go afterwards!” Beth drops her gaze to her brown boots, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she sees how long she’s been gone. “He really wants that wand, Mr. Dugan.”

“I’m sure,” Pat says, rolling his eyes. “Barb and I will worry about the Zarick stuff tomorrow. We’re glad that you’re safe.”

Jennie returns with water and a snack. Beth takes a sip then excuses herself to change out of her Dr. Mid-Nite costume. When she returns, she settles next to Rick, who hasn’t said a word since their short exchange.

“So…” she starts timidly. “You were gonna throw up?”

Rick pulls her in for an embrace. She gasps. “Only you could have a whole civil conversation with a supervillain and walk out unscathed.”

“Rick! You’re crushing me!”

“Shit!” He lets go immediately when he feels the hard edge of the hourglass glowing in the wedge between them, reminding Rick his hugs right now would hurt. “Shit! Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I just didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” Beth throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Rick closes his eyes, eased. He’ll let her do the holding. “I thought you were going to be mad.”

“What?” He turns to look at her. She’s so close, still hugging him, he has to look away. “No, I was worried. I turned the tunnels upside down for you.”

“Oh.” Beth lets go, but taps on the glass as the final grains of sand slide through the pinhole. “Really?”

“I’d do it again.” He clears his throat and adds, “For all of you, I mean. If you disappeared, um…” He trails off, unsure of why he’s feeling so awkward.

But Beth merely nods, seeming to understand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” They both look down at his chest, watching the hourglass to power down. Beth shoots him a timid smile. “Want to try that hug again?”

“Sure.” He stands up and extends out a hand, reeling her in.

#hournite #fluff #angst #yes i can do both #stargirl #beth chapel #rick x beth #stargirl spoilers #hn fic #rick tyler #jsa #thanks for the prompt!!!!

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

Note

Hello!

I love all your work so much and I saw that you were going to be taking a break from your Bachelor universe so I wanted to throw some prompts your way to maybe help get some other creative juices flowing *waggles eyebrows*

1) switched at birth AU

2) Everyone already knows their dating AU

3) Law and Order (SVU AU)

4) you’ve got mail AU

Thank you anon, I'm glad you like my writing!

Now that I've finished my Bach fic, I've been at a bit of a loss what I want to do next. Maybe it's because I'm all out of new ideas, maybe it's because work has been absolutely hectic, but my creative brain is completely empty. So I figured, why not try to do one of these prompts?

Here's the thing: I have never seen SVU or You've Got Mail. And I'm pretty sure Switched at Birth is also a TV show I have never seen? When I saw "everyone already knows" my immediate thought was "oh! like in Friends!" but then I remembered I have absolutely read that fic somewhere?? Like someone already wrote that for Jonsa. (I tried to find it again but have had no luck.)

So I chose switched at birth as a concept - I'm not sure if you meant the TV show or not, but I just wrote whatever popped into my brain.

A warning: this turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and isn't necessarily Jonsa? It is if you squint. A few other notes, Alayne is a completely separate person from Sansa, Lysa is not related to Catelyn, and Baelish never knew Catelyn either. Sorry if it's confusing and/or not at all what you were looking for!

Sansa feels as if the world has dropped out from beneath her.

They all sit in the drawing room of what she can only describe as a mansion (and she knows that next to her, Father is likely seething. This is the kind of money he aspires to, but will never be able to reach. He will never have a name. Father is a Baelish, he could never be a Stark.)

She stares at the family sitting opposite and her heart sticks in her throat at the sight of them – the mother, the three sons, they all have the same copper hair that she does and she swallows against the rising tears.

This is what she could have had, she thinks as she averts her eyes, but she only manages to catch sight of the family portrait above the mantel. A father, a mother, siblings. She could have had all of this, if not for the slip-up of an overworked, underpaid nurse sixteen years ago. She could have been Alayne Stark. Instead she is Sansa Baelish.

Switched at birth.

Alayne sits with her family (that should be Sansa's family), and she doesn't look as out of place as she should. Her dark hair matches Mr. Stark's – matches the other daughter, Arya. Alayne fits right in.

Sansa sits with Father (no, not her father; the man who raised her) on the opposite couch and wonders if her Mother (no, not her mother) had known, somehow. Is that why Mother had always been so cruel to her? Why she always seemed to hate Sansa for reasons she could never figure out? Perhaps Mother had known, somehow, that Sansa wasn't hers. Sansa remembers reading fairy stories of Changelings – how the mother would know, insist the child wasn't hers, how no one ever believed her. Is that why Mother threw herself off the roof all those years ago?

“Well this is fucking awkward,” the girl, Arya, mutters, and it breaks the silence as Mr. Stark sighs and presses a hand over his face and Mrs. Stark begins to scold her for her language and impropriety. Sansa watches Alayne laugh, and she feels more than ever like an intruder. She may share the Stark blood, but it seems as if Alayne and Arya are more alike than not. And by the way the brothers are trying to hide their own laughter, it seems Alayne fits in with all of them.

Perhaps it wasn't a mistake to switch them, Sansa thinks bitterly. Perhaps the Starks are better for having Alayne.

….

She is forced to get to know the Stark family, though she does not think she wants to. She doesn't want to look at their life and wish it could have been hers – wish that Ned Stark with his kind eyes and calm voice could have been her father. Wish that Catelyn Stark with her smiles and her freshly baked cookies could have been her mother. Wish that she could have been surrounded by siblings and dogs and even two strange psuedo-adopted-but-not-really brothers that she meets later on named Jon and Theon. The Stark household is chaotic and confusing and Sansa tells herself she would have hated growing up here.

….

She isn't surprised to find that she's not sad Father isn't her real father. In fact, there's a sort of joy inside her that when she turns eighteen, she can be free of him. He is still her legal guardian, the courts have decided, but she has less than two years before she is free and they aren't actually related and so she doesn't have to feel guilty about her dreams of leaving him.

It grows inside her as the weeks and months go by – a hatred she has never truly let herself feel before. She hates him, despises him. She always has.

Catelyn Stark is insistent on getting to know her because Sansa is her daughter, but Sansa can tell that Father has no real desire to get to know his own real daughter. He does not care about Alayne – no, what he cares about is ingratiating himself into the Stark family. She wonders if the Starks can see it like she can. She hopes not – she doesn't want them to think she's only coming to these weekly meetings for their money and their name.

In all honestly, she's not actually sure why she keeps coming to these meetings. All they do is remind her that the Starks will never truly be her family. All they do is highlight how much Father cares about social climbing. These meetings are painful and every week when she finally gets home and takes a shower and gets into her pajamas and climbs into bed, she sobs into her pillow for what could have been.

…

“You know the party's inside, right?”

Sansa startles out of her reverie and whirls around, heart pounding, to find Jon Snow standing behind her, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket.

It's Christmas and the snow is thick on the ground and she's shivering in the thin wrap that she came outside with, her coat in a closet where Mrs. Stark had taken it hours earlier.

“Are you allowed to be smoking?” she asks instead of answering and he laughs, pulling one out of the pack and placing it between his lips.

“I'm eighteen,” he shrugs, speaking around the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. His hands come up and he lights it, with one cupped around the end against the cold winter wind.

“I can't imagine Mrs. Stark approves of smoking,” she sniffs, then shakes her head no when Jon holds the pack out to her in offering. She watches his mouth twitch into a smile for a moment, like he knew she wouldn't take one, before putting the pack back in his coat pocket.

“Seems you don't approve, either.”

“Well, I am her daughter.” She says it and means it to be a joke, but the words come out soft and it wavers at the end.

Jon watches her for a moment, then unzips his coat and shrugs it off and holds it out to her and she stares at it blankly, her mind not processing the gesture. He shakes the coat, like he's insisting she take it and she finally does, slipping it on and then closing her eyes at the immediate warmth of it.

“I get it,” Jon says after a while, when he's halfway down to the filter, clouds of smoke drifting up into the night sky. “I mean, not exactly, I'm not sure there's anyone who can understand... you know-” he gestures at her. “But I get what's it's like - to be a Stark, but not. They practically raised me, but I'm not... I'll never actually be one of them.”

“I used to read fairytales,” she admits, turning her face from him because it's easier to talk into the dark, snow-covered landscape than him. “About secret princesses, and the king and queen were always so happy to have their daughter back. In the stories, there was never another princess who already took her place. Who fit in better.”

Alayne is a perfect Stark, she thinks. Over the months, she's seen it – how Alayne plays football and hockey with her brothers and sisters, makes jokes that Sansa would never. She's nothing like Sansa, who always preferred reading poetry to playing outside, with perfect manners and perfect posture. Cold and reserved. She wishes she were more like Alayne – more like a Stark.

She hears Jon sigh and take one last drag of the cigarette before he puts it out in the snow. “You're a lot like Cat, you know,” he says finally, and she feels something twist painfully in her chest. “And Bran. I mean, I don't know you that well, I guess, but...”

She shakes her head because he's wrong. She's nothing like any of the Starks (though she's not a Baelish, either). Jon sighs again, louder this time, with more annoyance.

“You are,” he insists, and she finally turns to face him again and opens her mouth to argue, but he gets there first. “You'd see it if you let yourself. If you actually tried. Cat's... Cat is trying so hard. You should see how she gets before you come over. Everyone is freaking out about it but you won't even try to get to know them. And I might not get how you feel, but Alayne? Have you even tried to talk to her?”

That painful twist in her chest tightens, it swoops down into her belly and up into her throat. “I am-”

“Like I said, I can't imagine how it feels, you know? And I'm sure it's a lot, and you're allowed to feel how you feel, but the Starks are... they want you here, I promise. But if you don't want to be, if you don't want them in your life, maybe this should all stop, cause it's hurting them and I think it's hurting you. Maybe we shouldn't be trying to force it if it's not what you want.”

Her mind is blank, she can't think of a single argument, though she wants to argue. She wants to say that Alayne hasn't tried talking to her, either. She wants to insist that she is trying, but... but she's not. Not really. She's holding herself at a distance, she's already decided she doesn't belong.

“What if they don't like me?” The words slip out of her, unbidden, her voice barely a whisper. It wavers in the dark. (Her deepest fear – that if she lets them get close to her, they'll decide she isn't worth it, that they don't want her.)

She's not sure what response she was expecting, but it's not for Jon to smile – he does, gives her a little half smile and raises his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't know you that well yet, but so far I like you just fine. And I'm not even a Stark.”

“You seem like a Stark,” she tells him, and watches something flicker across his face and she doesn't know him well enough yet to tell what it is.

“I'm not actually related,” he says, though she already knows this. “Not by blood or anything.” For a moment he brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck and he suddenly won't look at her and she wonders if she said something wrong. “We should go back inside,” he seems to change the subject and she hesitates, but then he holds out his hand. After a moment, she takes it, and follows him back inside, out of the freezing night air and into the warmth of the house. In the distance, she can hear voices and laughter, she can smell the cinnamon and pine in the air.

She could get lost here, if she let herself.

“There you are,” Mrs. Stark looks up as they enter the kitchen, and Jon lets go of her hand. Mrs. Stark narrows her eyes at Jon, then looks at the back door, like she guesses what he was doing out there and doesn't approve.

“I'm uh...” Jon starts, looking between Mrs. Stark and her, “I should get back to the party.” Before he goes, he turns back to her and she remembers she's still in his coat and she hurriedly takes it off, feeling heat high up on her cheeks as she does. “Try,” he says, voice too low for Mrs. Stark to hear. Then he takes his coat and leaves the kitchen – leaves her in the kitchen. Alone. With Mrs. Stark.

“Are you having fun?” Mrs. Stark's voice is light, but there's something underneath, a hesitance.

“I am,” she says back, wondering if she should make some excuse and leave. Wondering if Mrs. Stark doesn't want to be here talking to her.

(Try.)

“I wanted to thank you for inviting me,” she blurts out, and Mrs. Stark looks at her sharply. “I had some of the pumpkin pie, it was really good.”

It's such a stupid, nonsense thing to say, but Mrs. Stark looks pleased.

“It's a family recipe,” Mrs. Stark says, and then – a bit of hesitation - “I could teach it to you, if you'd like.”

Sansa's breath catches in her throat and it takes her a moment to say, “I like baking.”

“So do I. I could never get Alayne or Arya into it.” Mrs. Stark says it with a fond smile and Sansa feels something break open inside of her and she realizes, she knows, that she wants this. She wants to know this family, she wants to be a part of it. She doesn't want to take Alayne's place, she never could, but she...

“You could teach me,” she whispers. “Sometime. I'd like that.”

“So would I,” Mrs St- her mother, says with a smile that lights up the room.

#ask #anon #prompt fic #jonsa #sort of #modern au #again #also sort of angsty #and i'm sorry

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capituloperdido1 · 3 years

Text

Traitor Pt 3 (Final)

Hello everyone!

So happy that you guys liked my little story, i am hoping to write much more in the future. So please let me know if there is anything in particular you would like to read. Here is pt3 and last part of the Traitor fic. There is a 'prequel' and it is very angsty, if you guys want that as well let me know.

Enjoy!

It had been three days, three days without seeing Azriel. He didn't show to practice, neither he looked for her in the library.

Coward, coward, coward

She was so mad, how was saying sorry so hard for him?

Or was he embarrassed that he lost to her? no, Azriel would never be embarrassed about that. He was just too afraid to face her.

Or maybe he didn't care, maybe he wanted to fix things with Elain and not her.

Yeah, that might be the answer.

That afternoon Nesta had asked her to come over to the house of wind and stay over with her while Cassian was away in a mission. She climbed the stairs of the library, while preparing to be in the same house as Azriel.

He was not talking to her, fine, she would not talk to him.

Nesta was waiting for her at the door, "please don't kill me, please, please". She said while grabbing Gwyns bags, "my sisters came over for dinner and have not left, i can kick them out but we have to wait a bit for Rhysand to leave Nyx at Amren's"

She smiled

Perfect this night has started perfectly.

"Of course, yeah no problem."

They arrived at the room, and Gwyn felt panic rising to her throat at the sight of the middle Archeron sister. She was probably pissed at Gwyn for all that had happened, she probably hated Gwyn because of it.

"Hi Gwyn!" said Feyre.

"Feyre" she bowed, "thank you for having me".

Elain looked at her, smiled, and kept talking to Feyre.

Well, that's better than the slap she had expected.

She sat besides Nesta and prayed that her High Lord would come soon.

------

An hour past, and the four women were tangled in a conversation about wine when a knock came at the door.

Gwyn felt a tug at her chest; he is here it seemed to say.

Fuck.

"Im sorry to interrupt ladies" a breathy voice said, " i am here for my high lady and her sister". She turned around and faced the male speaking, he wore rather casual clothing compared to the illyrian leathers. His black tight shirt and cargo black pants accentuated his muscles, and his hair was messier than usual.

His eyes landed on hers, and his slight smirk fell.

Oh, great. I'm not happy to see you either, she thought.

Elain stood and quickly walked towards Azriel, but he did not break Gwyns stare; not even while he grabbed the arms of both women and they said bye to Nesta and her.

He looked at Nesta, "is this... a sleep over?" he said softly.

"yes, and you are very much not invited" Nesta responded.

He smirked, "ill be back" he looked at Gwyn.

"Don't leave" he said.

She looked away.

"Please" he said to her, his voice pained and desperate.

And with that, he left.

Nesta smiled and crossed her arms. "You planned this didn't you?" Gwyn asked her sister, "mhm, he helped me get a mate i help him find the balls to talk to you" she answered.

-----------

Gwyn was not one for drinking, but waiting for Azriel to come had made her so anxious that she had considered asking the house for Cassian's oldest bottle of Whiskey to drink it all by herself. Instead, she had been served a big, fat piece of chocolate cake; accompanied by water.

Nesta was in front of her, watching with admiration as Gwyn devoured the cake.

Mother, she loved chocolate.

The tug at her heart began once more, the feeling of comfort and hurt that Azriel brought upon her growing as the seconds flew by.

"He is here" she whispered to Nesta, "I am not ready to face him".

"He is not ready to face you" she answered.

A soft knock came at the door, and the creak of the wooden door was the most terrifying thing Gwyn had ever heard.

"Shadowsinger" Nesta said, "you are just on time". Nesta stood, grabbed Gwyns hand and squeezed it softly, "i need to go fix some paperwork for Cassian, could you please stay with Gwyn while i come back?"

Really Nesta? Thanks.

"Sure, thank you" he answered.

-----------

She did not feel Nesta leaving, neither she looked up to see where Azriel stood in the room. Her hands had become the most entertaining thing in the world at that moment, and nothing would change that.

"Gwyn" he called.

She felt him getting closer, and it took all her will not to jump to his arms.

He stopped, "please, look at me".

"No" she said, "you don't get to demand for me to stay, for me to talk to you, for me to look at you".

Cauldron was he clueless, did he not have a sense of communication?

He is trying, the voice of her heart seemed to say.

"I know that, but... I need... I need to see your eyes" Azriel said. Slowly, she felt him kneel in front of her; not too close as to startle her, but close enough that she could feel the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filling her nose.

"May i touch you?" He said, stretching his hand towards her.

Yes, please

She only nodded softly.

His hands grabbed her chin and lifted it to face him. "There you are" he smiled, "there they are". His eyes looked deeply into hers, as if he was trying to memorize each feature in them; he seemed... desperate to memorize her. As if what he was about to say would make her disappear from his side forever.

" I have a whole speech prepared" Azriel said, "but i don't think you're the type to want to hear rehearsed words, so let me give it a try..."

Quieter than she had ever heard him, Azriel began " I have always been alone, the shadows and the dark being my best friends..."

"I only knew friendship and love when Rhys opened his home to me; but even as my brothers and i grew, i still felt alone.... empty. I longed for something that would be entirely mine, something that no one else would share, something i would never have to part with." His voice breaking, Azriel inhaled and tucked his hands in his pockets.

"I met Mor when she was very young, she was such a happy girl; always teasing and playing, always happy even with the shitty family she was born into. She lightened my days, she gave me a reason to wake up in the morning; i began to love her before i expected" his voice filled with pain he said, "and i loved her for five hundred years..."

"I thought she had to be my mate, because no one else would make me as happy as her; and i waited for five hundred years for the mating bond to click. Disregarding her feelings, her insecurities and fears; i pushed my feelings down her throat, hoping she would pity me enough to give me a chance".

His confession broke her. What kind of thoughts went through the mind of this beautiful man to say anything like that?

"Meeting Elain was different, i was finally able to help someone as broken as me. I had a purpose beyond violence. I looked forward to sharing time with her, i wanted push her to be better, to forget about that undeserving human boy" He continued, "once she began to get better, i realized that i was not the only thing grounding her. Her sisters, the wraiths, gardening, and even her mate gave her courage to keep going. And i am so selfish, selfish enough to begin loving her; demanding from her what she is not ready to give".

"The winter solstice that i tried to give her the necklace, i did it out of a desire for her to be mine. My thoughts were never about how much i loved and admired her, but rather that i deserved Elain, that three brothers and three sisters made more sense than what the cauldron had chosen".

Gwyn shuttered, her heart squeezing lightly at the words coming from his mouth.

"But i realized long ago, that Elain deserves to choose her own path; neither Lucien nor me are entitled to her, she should be master of her own destiny" He said, no pain noticeable in his voice. "I had to let go, for my sake, my court's sake; but most importantly, for her".

"I could tell you more about my mistakes, and i will, but i have to explain why i gave that necklace to you." He moved closer to her, their knees touching. "That night, Gwyn, the conversation we had made my heart sing; you changed my mood so quickly, and you didn't even know it. You looked, so free, so competitive, so happy".

"Then, after i left that night, i realized that i wanted to see your smile again; so i left the necklace to Clotho and asked her to bring you some joy in that lonely solstice night. And my mind pictured your smile once you received that necklace. The selfish being that i am, has kept that memory in my heart; selfishly locked away so that no one will steal it from me" He smiled and looked into her eyes, "and then you kept showing me so many surprising sides of you. No one challenges me to better as you do, no one wants to see me bite dust as you do. No one is interested in what i think about coffee, or what my favorite mystery novel is. You have heard my voice more time than anyone before."

"You have showed me many times that you're my only match Gwyn".

He paused, as if the words weighted on his heart as much as they weighted on hers.

"You are my best friend, the person i admire the most in the world. I admire your courage, your patience, your perseverance, your happiness. I love the way you show love to your friends. I love how much of a fierce warrior you are. And even though i made a mistake by re-gifting the necklace, i could not think of anyone that deserves to be pampered and loved as much as you"

He stopped, inhaled and touched the top of her hands.

The happiest feeling crept into her heart, her feelings were not one sided.

He saw her.

She saw him.

But his eyes did not show the happiness she expected, not did they show the same desire that burned deep in her.

They showed fear, sadness, longing.

"But with all that i have said, i know i don't deserve you. I have hurt everyone I've ever loved, i have always been so selfish. I have been looking for a bond so desperately that i was blind to what i had right in front of me..."-"I have avoided confronting my fears of being alone, of facing my nightmares and acknowledging how much of a monster i can be. When i look at you, how much you have given me; i regret every moment i have not spent loving you".

He moved his hands away from hers, looked at them and shuttered.

She realized then, unlike her, his biggest fears and insecurities were visible for everyone to see. He hated his hands, he believed them to be the proof of his monstrosity.

He did not know how wrong he was.

Finally, after what felt like eternity he said, " i am sorry Gwyn, i have not been the man you deserve; and i will forever regret that i lost you before i ever had you."

Tears falling down her cheeks, Gwyn grabbed his hands and placed them in her face. How much courage had those words taken? How much courage had even touching her taken?

"Az... you're so blind" she responded with a sob. She turned her face to his hands and placed a slight kiss inside of his hands, "these hands saved me, they are so precious... you are so precious to me"

She looked into his eyes, "i was hurt because i wanted.... i wanted you to be honest with me"

"I thought the necklace had meant that you thought of me" she smiled sadly, "for the first in my life i thought someone had chosen me, someone had thought of me first".

He looked away sadly, "i know that, and i am sorry".

She interrupted him, " I lied when i said i never wore it, i wore it every day, every hour" she laughed softly and grabbed the empty space in her neck that once held her necklace, "i even bathed with it".

He smiled. And damn if she wanted to kiss him now even more than ever.

"Once i found out it had been you who had gifted it to me, i ... finally was able to confirm my feelings towards you" Gwyn confessed. "I knew i fell in love with you the moment in the training ring when you admitted you had given the necklace to me."

Was she really saying this?

Yes

She closed her eyes and talked before her courage disappeared.

"Azriel i am in love with you" she breathed, "i fell in love with the man saw the darkness in me, and did not run away. The one that taught me to fight my nightmares way. The one that listened to me ramble about the silliest things. The one that made an effort to open his heart to me, and answered every question i asked him" she laughed. "After the first night on the training ring; i knew you would be my best friend, my confidant. Once i shared more and more nights with you, i couldn't stay away... i can't stay away from you"

Placing his hands in her chest she said, "i love you, all of you; the spy, the friend, the brother, the shadowsinger"

She didn't dare to look deeply into his eyes, afraid of what feelings laid beneath them.

"You are my center, you are my hope, my ladder to keep climbing up the pit of darkness my mind is. I will never be enough for you; for the pure and innocent heart you have. But if you give me a chance, i will treasure you for eternity". Tears scrolled down her face as she spoke, "I am not you mate, nor i am what you were looking for. But i will fight beside you every step of the way, because you more than anyone deserves happiness".

There. I said it.

She took her hands away from his, looked down and waited.... Waited for him to stand and leave, to laugh and mock her.

But he didn't.

He kneeled there, in front of her.

Shocked

Happy

.... Happy

He was happy; in fact, he seemed joyous.

A grin emerged in the male's face, bigger and brighter than she had never seen before.

Grabbing her hand, he pulled them up.

There they were, facing each other; looking deeply into each other's eyes when Azriel said: "the one that does not deserve you is me". He came closer to her, grabbed her waist and pulled her body towards his "my best friend, my love. I want you to be my entire world Gwyn".

He smiled and pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. His face coming even closer to hers, "i am not worthy of your confession, your heart, much less your body". His nose touched hers, "but give me a chance, i will treasure you until the end of times".

She smiled, nodded and closed her eyes.

Warmth filled her body as Azriel's lips closed upon hers. Soft, warm and gentle. Moving in a pace that would not startle her, he grabbed her neck to pull her even closer to him. He took his time to explore her mouth, kissing every corner. "Thank you Gwyn, for choosing me" he said, "i have found my light where i never thought looking". He kissed her nose, her forehead and her lips. "Now that i have you" he said, not leaving an inch of space between their mouths, "i will never leave you".

-------

As they kissed, something golden and long appeared in Gwyns mind, her chest seemed to swollen at the sight of it. The golden string settling in front of her and pulling her to reality.

She flinched at the same time Azriel did.

Their eyes meeting once again.

And right there, she knew...

"Mate" they said.

#gwyn acotar #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #azriel fanfic #fanfic #acotar #post acosf #nesta archeron #nesta and gwyn #acotar fanfiction

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

some nessian fics i really like + why i like them;

this coincidentally went along with @anidealiveson's thanksvember idea, but it's a little different. these are either my favorite nessian fics ever or fics that i thought did something really well so im gonna put them in the hall of fame anyway :)

(also im sure most people have already heard of most of these but idc)

***

Sympathy for the Devil by @saphie3243: ACOTAR series told from Nesta's POV; maybe the best and most comprehensive take on Nesta's thoughts, inner workings, and emotions. It gives such an honest glimpse into her character that it feels like canon. Would recommend if you love reading longass essays on why Nesta is the way she is.

POETRY by @sayosdreams: short oneshot where Nessian are assigned to a creative writing project together that was just tender enough to imprint on my mind forever; on this list for the line "I think I just fell a little bit in love with you."

Drops of Sapphire by @sayosdreams: open for a surprise :)

Like Pristine Glass by @ladynestaarcheron: I only read one chapter of this fic and it was the last one, which meant I cried all night and refused to read it from the beginning b/c it hurt (also great writing). Features Nesta running away from the Night Court, Nesta with kids, and Cassian being forced to face his mistakes.

Tidal by @flowerflamestars: No thoughts all I know is that Pacific Rim sexy!!! The aesthetic makes me feral and jaeger-pilot Nessian make me feral!!

Love Her Like She Should Be Loved by @julemmaes: This fic is so crucial for anyone who's ever wanted to slap the IC around or see Cassian stand up for his girl. I wish there was a word for this specific trope b/c it's my favorite trope ever, but for now I call it romantic-partner-goes-feral-when-people-are-mean-to-the-love-of-their-life. Also Nesta being treated like an outcast will never not make me cry.

Sister by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: the same trope as LHLSSBL! Newly mated to Nesta, Cassian's temper is hanging on by a thread when he has to be around Rhys and the IC, remembering how they treated Nesta when she was depressed and alone. Very angsty and dramatic ficlet; 5 stars. (this person has a lot of amazing nessian fics this one is just my favorite)

Under The Weather by @thewayshedreamed: my favorite take of the many Cassian-taking-care-of-sick-Nesta fics out there. It feels extra special when Nesta and Cassian are barely acquaintances but he'll drop everything to take care of her anyway. Also caring Cassian>>> cocky Cassian.

Hellhound by @thewayshedreamed: more caring Cassian! He intervenes when Nesta is on the verge of a panic attack and helps calm her down and it's all very sweet and soft. (oneshot)

Mad Woman by @smallerinfinities: this fic is fairly new but it instantly grabbed my attention; it has escort Cassian providing Nesta with ~therapy~ which I didn't know I needed until I read it for myself. (multipart)

What's Wrong With A Good Story? by @maastrash: I can't believe I forgot to add this the first time around but this fic is a Nessian staple! Other than Nesta in scrubs and terminally ill Cassian (crying), the relationship development in this fic is adorable and makes me not care if the ending is tragic or not.

A Court of Fever and Frustration by @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter: nesta takes care of cassian this time, and it's PERFECTTT. romance has always been about the little details to me, and this fic is full of little details: rubbing someone's back, knowing where they're hurting without asking, soothing touches. i also think being sick makes characters vulnerable in a way that physical injuries just can't and i love seeing cassian absolutely wrecked in front of nesta. ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

some hand-picked faves from @lady-therion's masterlist (these are the five-star comfort fics for when i'm really missing nessian):

Close Quarters: snowed-in-a-cabin fic that is soft, warm, and ~tender~

The Warrior's Heart: mostly smut, but like poignant smut? it's not necessarily emotional but it makes me emotional, and it's entirely because of the writing.

Entirely My Own: more of the same type of smut that makes me feel the same way as TWH. i think the word i'm looking for is "intimacy", and it's my absolute favorite thing to find in a fic.

Honorable mention goes to Her Dark Affection: dom!Nesta, enough said.

this is definitely not an exhaustive list and im sure i've forgotten a lot of wonderful fics, but i will be updating this as i find/remember more fics i love! also make sure to check out the complete masterlists of all these writers bc there are definitely works not on this list that i think people would enjoy the hell out of.

#ficrec #nessian #ncssian recommends stuff #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian

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alwaysthewrongside · 3 years

Text

Ruined (Loki/Reader)

Request: Hi! Can I request a Loki x reader fic where Loki realises he’s in love with the reader but tries to hide his feelings for fear of rejection from the reader? P.S I get so excited whenever you post a new fic! You are SO talented and should be really proud of all your previous work!❤️❤️❤️

A/N: It has been so long since I have even looked into my requests, this year has been something else. I figured it might be a nice distraction for me to write and for people to read some downright angsty fluffy Loki fanfiction to escape this lovely hell we are living in. That being said.....I hope you enjoy!!

You had known the second prince of Asgard for years now, though time had seemed to stop when you met him. It was a rare rainy day on Asgard and you had run into the library soaking wet from the downpour. Walking over to the fireplace you decided to delve into another world whilst you dried off. Grabbing a book you sat on the ground, throwing away the etiquette the court taught the young nobles. No one ever visited the vast library, but why that was you couldn’t understand.

The dark woods of the shelves were lined with endless tomes, scrolls, and novels, it was a dream. You hadn’t noticed the noise of the doors opening, being too engrossed in your adventure, until you heard a scoff from above you. Startled you jumped and clutched your chest, the book you had been reading falling to the floor unceremoniously.

“I see the teachings of the court have seemingly evaded you.”

Prince Loki stood tall and proud before you, a mischievous smirk dancing on his lips.

You were lucky he was amused, and had happened to glance at the title you were reading, something he had been fond of. From then on the two of you were inseparable. Between his training and your lessons with the noble women you would sneak off into the library and find new treasures amongst the shelves, sharing your finds. The time had passed from that day like nothing.

The only indication anything had changed was how Loki had grown. His face seemed to chisel out, his once soft cheeks now sharp as stone, his hair had grown longer which you secretly preferred. You always liked to secretly imagine running your fingers through it. His demeanor had seemingly changed too, and it had been bothering you for a while. Where there was once comfort and ease, there was now an invisible force permeating in the air between you. Loki had become standoffish not showing to the library as much, making some lazy excuse as to why he wasn’t there.

Being a loyal and caring friend you had let it go, amounting it to princely duties and stress. That was until one night something in you snapped. You had seen him in the great hall laughing with a few eligible noble women, his signature smirk plastered on his face, the beauty of the women not escaping your notice. Tears pricked at the edge of your eyes remembering his brief remark on how he had a meeting with Thor and Odin this evening. Yet here he was.

A few hours had passed before you decided to sneak off to the library, a sneaking suspicion in your mind that he may be there. As charming as he was, there was something he couldn’t resist about dwelling with the books, even if it wasn’t with you. Your nightgown brushed the floor as you tucked a piece of hair behind you ear, stealthily sneaking through the doors without making a sound. Loki was observant and his guard was normally up, but as you rounded a corner you saw him nose deep in his latest find, the fire crackling loudly next to him. The crease that was normally fixed in his brow was gone, his eyes soft, his broad shoulders loose.

“I hope your meeting with the Allfather and your brother went well today.”

Though you spoke softly the weight your tone held seemed to scream into the air.

Loki jumped slightly, eyes quickly taking in his surroundings and you. The crease in his brow returned almost instantly. He cleared his throat.

“It was as dull as I had expected it to be.”

The nonchalant tone flowed smoothly from the silver-tongue’s lips.

“Of course, I noticed the bright turquoise dress your brother was wearing, though how he changed into a shapely woman and managed to grow his hair so long and luscious I know not, perhaps you could ask him for me.”

His brow quirked as he kept his composure still, not giving away any real emotion.

“So I have been caught, I am sure you did not mind having the time to yourself.”

You shrugged as you moved closer to his sitting form, his once relaxed demeanor now tense on the luscious couch.

“The loneliness I did not mind, your lies however are a different matter entirely.”

There was a sting in your eyes again as you tried to maintain your composure.

“If you have grown tired of my presence I would at least hold hope you would have the decency to tell me to my face Loki.”

Tugging on the sleeve of your nightdress you crossed your arms across your chest, looking stern, though in truth, secretly comforting yourself.

“I know I do not compare to the ladies of court, I do not pretend to hold that attention Loki, but I had hoped after all these years we were at least companions.”

At this statement his facade seemed to break, the carefree act breaking away as his eyes lit with anger. You assumed he would yell at you for assuming to be friends with the prince, something along the awful rumors you had heard but never chose to believe.

“Do you truly think so low of yourself y/n?”

You scoffed.

“You act as though your actions would give me any indication to assume otherwise, I am not one of your dull empty headed admirers Loki I see right through you.”

The raven haired prince stood at this, tossing the book to the side as he stalked towards you, his breathing heavy.

“You see through me do you?”

His tall frame leaned over yours as he stood in front of you. There wasn’t much space between the two of you now and you could feel the coolness of his breath on your face.

“You are nothing but a man Loki, all men eventually lose their interest in friend or lover, I am not unaware of my fate in your eyes.”

The sadness trickled into your words and you refused to look into his emerald eyes for fear of losing you composure.

“I was the fool to think you cared beyond having a reading partner, I see now I was wrong to think a friendship from this.”

You felt a hand turn your face, and you gazed into….terrified eyes. Tilting your head in wonder, you went to speak, but he stopped you with a short shake of his head.

“You foolish girl, are you so blind?”

He laughed nervously, before taking a deep breath.

“When I found you on the floor of this library huddling next to the fire enraptured in words I felt something I hadn’t before.”

Slowly uncrossing your arms you silently urged him to continue.

“You have ruined me y/n.”

Bewilderment filled you as you tried to take in what was happening. Before you could think any further, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, and a hand behind your neck, and soft lips met yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and your arms automatically found their way around Loki’s neck, your fingers gently tangling in his raven hair. It was softer than you’d imagined and you smiled slightly at this. He tasted of wine and mint you noted, as he deepened the kiss before pulling away suddenly, breathless. For once the silver tongued prince had no words, only love in his eyes.

You smiled as you nestled into his chest. Pulling yourself close to his solid body, he snaked his arms around you, gently resting his chin on the top of your head. The hurt and anger you had before melted away in his embrace. You truly were blind, never realizing the glances he stole when you’d read to him were of you and not the books. All this time you had assumed the worst, and for once you were glad to be wrong.

“If I could spend one lifetime in here with you or a million traveling the stars, I would be happy in your arms Loki.”

He chuckled softly, nudging you to glance upwards, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. You gasped as you looked up at the ceiling. There were stars glistening as far as you could see, the sheen of green magick laced with the golden haze.

“So I shall give you the stars and more.”

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfiction #loki one shot #loki oneshot #loki x reader #reader fic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagines #loki imagine #loki x you #fanfiction #fanfic

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elliewritessometimes · 3 years

Text

hello! me n @mattieswheelers wrote another fic!! tiff is the most incredible writing partner and i- i just love them???? thanky so much for writing with me you are a stunning writer aaaa (y'all there will be a second chapter stay tuned fdhhddh aLSO we are posting this on ao3 it will be there at some point)

in other news: this was originally a request!! @notsomightymightytiger it may have taken me uh- a good couple of months but here is your fic!!!

for reference, these numbers apply to these tropes: first kiss/flowers of romance/blind date

LOVE YOU KIERA AND TIFF AAAAA HOPE YOU LIKE

tw: swearing, alcohol and drunkenness but not in an angsty farrah way just in a silly oops first date way, as per usual if there's anything at all you want me to tag let me know :D

---

Eva thought she was doing perfectly fine without a romantic partner. Her life was normal, one filled with work and friends and scrolling through Pinterest.

Apparently, in the eyes of her best friend, this was not a normal life. Farrah had always been a bit extra, that one kid in highschool who always seemed to know where the best parties were, or who was known by name to the baristas at the local Starbucks, and by the ripe old age of 22, she believed that a romantic partner was crucial to living a fulfilling life.

Or, at least, that you should at least try romance once before becoming a hermit in the woods, especially if your name was Eva Sanchez.

(“Look, normally I wouldn’t be like this,” Farrah drawled, leaning against a counter, “But deep inside you are nothing but a useless gay at heart-”

Her phone buzzed.

“-and you haven’t dated anyone, like, ever, and if I have to be the only one constantly dragging you out to social gatherings, I’m going to die early. So do me a solid, will you?”

“Hey-!”)

Eva did not agree.

But, she was a loyal friend, and that was how she found herself sitting in an overly posh restaurant on some random blind date with some random person that she’d never even seen before. It would be an understatement to say she was a little bit nervous, but then again, whenever Farrah was involved, that was normal.

***********: hi sorry i got your number from the blind date place thing but uh are you the person at the table in the corner

***********: ???denim jacket ?? pride pin??

Eva smiled, glancing up at the door. There was another person looking a little lost in the entrance, very obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, their phone held close to their face as they squinted around at the restaurant. They were pretty, dark hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, obviously not dressed for a restaurant as upper class as this one. Eva liked them immediately. Raising a hand, she waved in their direction, laughing as her date gasped dramatically, hurrying over and nearly overturning a tray of drinks on their way.

“Hello.”

“Look-” Eva’s date slumped in the seat opposite, one hand awkwardly held behind their back. “I dunno about you, but I certainly did not willingly sign up for this. You see, my friend wanted me to apparently live a more interesting life and stop relying on Tumblr as my only source of interaction with anyone, and my friend is very persuasive, so here I am.”

Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, so I wanted to get that out of the way before we even introduce ourselves. I am here out of spite only, so, uh, I hope you’re not too desperate.” They paused, finally taking a breath. “Right. The more I think about this, the more embarrassed I get.”

“It’s okay.” Eva gave a noise which sounded suspiciously like a snort. “Let’s not think about it then. I’m Eva. She/her. It’s nice to meet you, unwilling datemate.”

They grinned. “Kate. She/they.” She gasped a little like she’d forgotten something. “Oh! I brought flowers. Chess said it would be romantic.”

Eva accepted the offered flowers with a blush. This date was going better than expected. Farrah was going to lose her shit when she heard about it. “Wait- You have a friend called Chess?? Like, the game???”

Kate rolled their eyes, casually snatching a bright pink cocktail off a passing waiter’s tray. “Duh. You didn’t really see me walk in this fucking posh ass restaurant in my flannel and converse and think I’d be normal, right?”

Eva laughed then, properly. It had only been a few short, chaotic minutes, but she was already warming to this mystery person and, God, they had good taste in flowers. Even if Eva’s nerd hermit brain did helpfully choose that moment to remind her that this particular bunch of flowers presented a meaning that translated almost exactly to ‘fuck you’. She wondered if Kate was aware of that. However, perhaps that was a fun fact for the second date.

“Hey, Eva?” Kate was slightly tipsy. Only a little bit! Really not that bad. Not at all. Definitely not too drunk for a first date. Shut up. “Hey! You’re- so cool.”

Eva giggled - she was equally as drunk, but not quite so intoxicated as to stop wondering why the restaurant hadn’t thrown them out yet. “Noooooo. ‘m a nerd.”

“Yeah, but a cool nerd.” Kate twirled the decorative candle between her fingers, drawing stares from disapproving patrons. The flame reflected in Eva’s glasses, making her just a little bit more smitten by the second. They enclosed their hand around the candle holder as best they could, standing up just a little shakily. “Eva-” It was like they got a rush from just saying her name. Eva thought it was endearing. “Hey- we- we should go…”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes, also standing up, her long-discarded denim jacket slung over one arm, the other naturally slipping to link arms with Kate.

“....Arson.” Kate sounded entirely serious, still twizzling the candle in one hand. Eva blinked dumbly at her, mouth slightly open. They pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Eva’s mouth, giggling uncharacteristically at the motion. “I’m jokingggg! Don’t look so shook, my dude.”

Eva stuttered a little, letting Kate pull her finally out of the restaurant, marvelling at the fact she’d only known this incredible, crazy person for a matter of hours. Who knew where tonight would take them?

They found themselves in a park, gazing up at the stars, now dim in the reflections of the city lights. Kate’s phone flashed 11:46 in the dark, the lock screen filled with notifications from a contact who’s name consisted only of a chess piece.

Eva lay down on the grass, spreading her arms out towards the stars. “Do you ever think about life?”

“Sure. All the time. I’m alive, and so are you, and I think you’re really pretty. Does that count?” Kate flopped down beside her.

“I- I mean, yeah- um,” Eva tried not to sound flustered, thankful for the darkness that hid the color rising in her cheeks. “But like, life. Scientifically. Relatively.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, I totally do. Um. Do I?”

Eva laughed, turning her head slightly to gaze at Kate. Under the light of the stars, they looked… ethereal. And really, really, really beautiful. And-

Eva coughed slightly, turning back towards the night sky. “Just… think about it. I’m lying here beside you, on a giant marble that hurtles through space. Relatively speaking, our orbit and path are unique, and all around us, the other planets are… swirling in harmony, and we’re just. We’re just here to see it.”

Kate hummed. “You sound like those philosophical people, all ‘if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, did it really fall?’ and ‘relatively speaking I am relatively here, and I’m relatively certain… blah blah blah.’”

“Huh. Do I?” Eva shrugged, putting her hands behind her head. “I dunno. I’m drunk. I think. Oh, no, I’m relatively drunk, ha ha- okay no, I’m just drunk.”

“You are,” Kate nodded wisely. “We both are.”

“Do you know what Albert Einstein said once?” Eva asked abruptly, closing her eyes. “He said, ‘When you’re courting a nice girl, an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder, a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.’ And if that isn’t the most relatable thing he’s ever said, then, well- okay yeah I’ve lost my train of thought.”

“Wow,” said Kate. “Did Albert Einstein court lots of nice girls?”

“Pfft.” Eva rolled onto her side, laughing openly in Kate’s face. “Sure. Why not.”

They rolled to face Eva, curling up into a ball, softer than the 22-year-old had seen her all evening. “Not as nice as the one I’m courting right now.”

“Even though neither of us really wanted to be here earlier?”

“Yeah. Y’know, I’m fucking glad our best friends basically set us up. It’s very pog of them.”

“You did not just say ‘pog’. You did not.” Eva groaned into the slightly damp, slightly disgusting grass, listening to Kate cackle next to her.

“Shit, dude, my secret’s out. I’m just as much of a nerd as you.” She leant their head on Eva’s outstretched arm, burrowing into her side.

Eva paused then, draping her other arm around Kate, thinking quietly. It was stupid, really, that they were cuddling in the openness of a park at almost midnight. Dangerous, definitely, especially when you took in the candle still flickering far too close to Kate’s now loose hair. Some more sensible people, maybe Farrah’s sister, would say that it was stupid how close they’d grown in so few hours. But Kate and Eva weren’t sensible people, not really, and maybe this was completely normal for them. Nerds lived life differently. “We’re not like other girls… we’re nerds.”

Kate barked out a laugh again, pressing yet another small kiss to the top of Eva’s head.

Eva thought she might melt into a puddle right then and there.

God, she was so in love.

Kate looked up at the sky. “Y’know, for all your philosophical talk, you should be an inspirational speaker. Be on goddamn TedTalks or something, blow the crowd away with all that ‘the future’s in the palm of my hand!!’ bullshit.”

“Well,” Eva said, trying to sound completely sober (and failing), “I think all I could ever want is in the palm of my hand, right now.”

Kate paused for a moment, registering the fact that Eva had just cupped her hands around their face. “Wow. That was smooth.”

“Right?? I’m honestly impressed and I was the one who said it. Wait, is that hubris? Oh shoot, am I developing an ego? Or maybe I’m just drunk?” Eva’s head was seriously starting to hurt.

“You deserve an ego,” Kate nodded sagely. “You are so amazing. Seriously. You should have an ego. Dab on the haters and all that jazz, right? Right.”

Eva giggled, unable to take her eyes away from Kate’s. “What the shit?”

“Dude! Dab on the haters. ‘m fuckin’ right, and you know I am.”

“Mkay.”

“Lit.” Kate dragged her gaze from Eva’s, instead staring up at the stars. “If we weren’t drunk right now, I’d be kissing the hell out of you.”

Eva pouted. Apparently Drunk-Eva was limited to the facial expressions of a twelve year old. “Who��s to say you can’t kiss me now.”

“We’re drunk, Eva.” They waved their hands, casually flipping off the moon. “Consent.”

“If you think about drunk...ness. Drunkenness? Drunkness. Whatever.” She coughed. “If you think about it like maths, then because we’re both drunk, it cancels out, right? Like, drunk you minus drunk me equals zero drunks overall, yeah?” Pausing, she ran a hand over her face, watching Kate smirk and wriggle closer out of the corner of her eye. “What I’m saying is, yes, I give you permission to kiss me-” Kate leaned closer and Eva laid a gentle finger on their lips. “But only if I get to kiss you back.”

The two met in the middle, naturally coming together. Some might describe them as magnets, two poles attracted, unable to stay away from each other. Others might say soulmates, meant to find each other from birth. Or, just maybe, stars, gravitationally pulled together, ready to explode into another plane of existence, one so different from our reality that we can’t even begin to imagine the wonders that they’ll find.

However, this is reality, and somehow Kate and Eva are still grounded on our Earth, stars maybe, but ones made of ancient stardust no longer free to travel the universe. They found themselves pulling apart after two worlds collided, an unknown period of time passing as it happened. Eva’s fingers didn’t untangle themselves from their comfortable seat amongst Kate’s hair, the closeness making their noses brush, spouting giggles from both young adults.

“Well, that was fun.” Kate brushed hair out of Eva’s face, one arm still wrapped tight around her waist, pulling her closer as she shivered in the night air.

“Yeah?” Eva pressed her forehead to theirs. “Why don’t we try it again, huh?”

---

“I told you so,” Farrah smirked, picking at a freshly baked blueberry muffin. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Eva huffed, failing to come up with an argument.

Over by the kitchen counter, Mattie snorted. “I find it kinda funny that the single girl insists that love is the answer to anything.”

“Well- it’s not like I’ve never dated!”

“Suuuuure,” Mattie rolled her eyes, hopping off the counter and snatching a muffin. “Anyways, at least Eva has a significant other now. That’s the biggest victory, right? Other than the celebratory muffins, of course.”

Eva sighed. “Is it really that big of a deal that Farrah’s plan worked?”

“Yep!” Farrah grinned, taking a bite of muffin.

“Technically, my plan, but okay,” Mattie shrugged.

Eva almost dropped her muffin. “What.”

Mattie grinned, a devilish glint appearing in her eye. “Believe it or not, I am also friends with none other than the amazing Chess, and since her friend Kate- who is also my friend, by the way- was being a mopey mess around the same time as you, I just had to take it upon myself to play matchmaker! So I’d like at least 50% of the credit and reward, please and thank you.”

“I- what-” Eva sputtered, trying to come to terms with the new information. “Mattie- you- oh my God.”

“Oh my God indeed,” Mattie bit into her muffin and swallowed. “So anyways, you’re welcome for getting you a girlfriend.”

Eva stared at the younger girl, mouth slightly open and muffin hanging loosely in her hand. Farrah clapped a hand over her mouth as she wheezed through a mess of sugar and blueberries, earning herself a death stare from Eva. Phone in one hand, Mattie continued eating her muffin as though nothing had happened, the teasing look on her face only exaggerating as her phone pinged with a message. “Oh! Speaking of, Chess is outside-”

She was cut off as the door burst open, the handle crashing into Eva’s bookcase, knocking her alarm clock to the ground and presenting two dishevelled figures in the doorway. One of them, a tall student probably in their last year of uni, puffed out a breath, a hand tightly clinging to a much shorter student squirming angrily. “Before you say anything, I tried to prevent any of this happening. Wheeler, I’m blaming you entirely for this.”

Mattie only laughed, offering Chess a muffin with her free hand, “Dude, it was totally your idea.”

Eva tried very hard not to stare as Kate finally freed herself from Chess’ grasp with an indignant yelp. “Fuck off! Eva, babe, sweetheart, love of my life, tell me you didn’t fucking know about this beforehand or I will break up with you.”

“No! God, no! You know I didn’t want to be there just as much as you did.” She rested her head gently on top of Kate’s, arms draped over their shoulders. “Believe you me, I’ve also been sorely betrayed today.”

Farrah gagged across the kitchen. “Ew. We should never have set you two up.”

“Bitch.” Eva grinned affectionately at her best friend, batting Kate’s hand down as they sent a middle finger in Farrah’s direction. Conversations carried on for a while, Chess finally being introduced to Farrah, with a muffin being forcefully placed into her hand. Kate whispered to Eva for a second before going out to take a call. Eva smiled knowingly, leaning on the counter to address Mattie, “So…”

Mattie made a face as Eva raised an eyebrow in her direction. “What are you thinking, Sanchez, I don’t like that face.”

“I don’t know…” She feigned thinking, sticking her tongue out as Kate re-entered the room. “Maybe, a little thank-you gift?? Y’know, me and Kate were thinking just now… Seeing as you set us up so nicely, how about you try a blind date yourself?”

Chess and Farrah stifled a laugh in unison, choking a little on their muffins as Mattie’s eyes got wider in horror. “You didn’t.”

Kate smiled sweetly. “Yup! Tonight, seven thirty. It’s payback time, kid.”

“I hate you.”

#ITS HERE #AAAAA IM SO HYPED ABOUT THIS #fhsbdhsbdjs #tiff is the most wonderful writing partner i could ever ask for i love them so much heck #aLSO KIERA LOOKY #fhsbdjsn #caps tw #swearing tw #alcohol mention #Proper Tag Time™#we are the tigers #kate dalton #eva sanchez #kateva #chess watt #tiff (co author now we're a business)#kiera (yay for gay)

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tossawary · 3 years

Text

Chapter 27: “The First Day” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Right now, deep into the safety of darkness, Shang Qinghua thinks about how he never actually expected to be lying in his bed with Mobei-Jun. No, there’s a reason his sofa is comfortable enough to sleep on! That was by design too! Sure, Shang Qinghua had lots and lots of bed-related fantasies, but he had no expectations of those fantasies ever coming true. He didn’t dare to have expectations.

It’s kind of weird, lying in bed with Mobei-Jun. It’s definitely weird lying in his bed partially on top of Mobei-Jun. With the way things were headed, Shang Qinghua was admittedly fostering some hopes about those bed-related fantasies, but he still didn’t think to mentally prepare himself for the practical details. He really wasn’t mentally prepared for the softness of Mobei-Jun’s hair, for the thickness and the weight of the man’s arms, or for the coolness of his skin against the warmth of the blankets.

Fuck, now there is no way that Shang Qinghua is going to be able to see Mobei-Jun with a plunging neckline without thinking about touching the man’s bare chest. It’s a nice chest! It feels great underneath Shang Qinghua’s hands now.

He can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his fingers.

He can feel the gentle rise and fall of it with the man’s slow breaths, as the man’s eyes have fallen comfortably closed.

Shang Qinghua has never seen Mobei-Jun this relaxed.

AN: Moshang in bed together is very good. I loved writing Moshang cuddles. I think it’s really nice when they’re allowed to be soft and relaxed, and everything is understood between them. Mobei-Jun at this point has learned to treat Shang Qinghua like a particularly anxious cat sometimes - if he just stays still and relaxed, eventually Shang Qinghua will calm down and chill with him.

Shout out to Mobei-Jun and all those years he spent trying to get some hint as to how human social everything worked, only to get nearly no help from Shang Qinghua. In this fic, part of the idea is that Shang Qinghua has been a slightly better communicator. Mobei-Jun can be a good listener when he doesn’t feel hideously embarrassed over his fuck-ups.

“I had made plans to speak with you at some point about… this,” Mobei-Jun agrees. “But that was not why I had come to see you that day.”

“Ah, what… what was it, then?”

Mobei-Jun sighs. “I had come from a gathering of demon lords, hosted by my father at their request. They have loosely agreed to each contribute to an attack on the next conference of human cultivators,” he explains, apparently annoyed at just having to recollect this event. “My uncle encourages my father to force my involvement. He must have trouble planned… or see an opportunity for it.”

Shang Qinghua processes this, then sits bolt upright in bed. “What?!”

Mobei-Jun frowns up at him.

“There’s a demonic alliance to attack the next Immortal Alliance Conference?!” Shang Qinghua demands, leaning over the demon lord beside him.

“Yes.”

“And you waited to tell me this?!”

“There are years left before this event,” Mobei-Jun points out.

Shang Qinghua stares at him.

Sure! But he feels like he should start planning now! He already knew that there was going to be a demon attack of some kind - the seal on Luo Binghe’s powers has to be broken - but demon lords getting involved is bad news! Multiple demon lords who are important enough to be socializing with Mobei-Jun’s father is worse news! Demon lords potentially including Mobei-Jun’s shitty father and shitty uncle is the worst news of all!

“You should warn your people,” Mobei-Jun says, dryly.

AN: Mobei-Jun doesn’t care about the sects, but he cares that Shang Qinghua cares. Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua really are villainous in SVSSS. Shang Qinghua just so happens to sometimes be on the protagonist’s (Shen Yuan’s) side and Shen Yuan has romanced a budding tyrant who has MBJ as a loyal minion. But, oof, I didn’t want to go that route with this fic.

I mean, I considered it! I considered having Shang Qinghua be forced to bring a demon invasion down on the sect he’s come to care about and his own nephew, but that felt a little too angsty for me. It totally could have been good, I was just like, “I can’t handle that.” Plus, with the world update, it felt fitting to jazz things up a little bit - to up the ante by inviting more demon lords and also have a little role reversal by letting Mobei-Jun be the spy. This way, I think, it really feels like Mobei-Jun is on Shang Qinghua’s side.

Shang Qinghua isn’t on the demons’ side. Mobei-Jun isn’t really on the humans’ side. But they are on each other’s side. They’re a team!

Again, what’s more romantic than your demon boyfriend actually doing the work of growth on his own? Moshang can be a little rough and with a lot of sharp edges (on both sides, they’re both kind of mean people) sometimes, so it’s sometimes nice to remember that they can support each other too.

Also, I’ve always been kind of curious about what Mobei-Jun’s family thinks of his relationship with a human. Mobei-Jun’s father is still alive throughout SVSSS, so it’s fun to think about ice demon politics, power and influence and loyalty in that court, and whether that factored at all into Mobei-Jun’s extremely slow-moving courting timeline of a human.

The person at the door knocks a third time, and Shang Qinghua feels the person beside him stir. He can feel a not insignificant amount of weight shifting, a low and unhappy grumble, and cool skin brushing against his own as that person makes to get up. Possibly to handle the person at the door? Shang Qinghua here abruptly remembers many important details about his current situation that make the sect potentially being on fire seem like a not-so-bad emergency.

“Demon invasion,” Shang Qinghua finds himself thinking. “Mobei-Jun. Fuck.”

“No, no, no! Don’t get up! I’ll get it!” Shang Qinghua cries, throwing off tangled blankets and flying out of bed. “I’ll handle it, my king! Sorry! Ahhh, sorry! I’ll take care of it, you can just stay where you are-”

Shang Qinghua, now on his feet, pushes firmly down against Mobei-Jun’s chest. He’s not expecting the man - a very, very strong and very, very stubborn demon lord - to go back down under his hand without any resistance at all. This easy obedience, this willingly being pushed down, leads to a surprised Shang Qinghua overbalancing and catching himself hard on Mobei-Jun’s chest and shoulders.

As though Shang Qinghua is actually pinning the man down.

Mobei-Jun stares up at him, eyes low-lidded, and raises his eyebrows.

Ah.

Wow.

Shang Qinghua is going to… well, he’s going to think about this for the rest of his life, probably.

AN: Mobei-Jun is so self-conscious in SVSSS that it’s kind of hilarious. So it’s fun to let him be a little more confident (rather than arrogant and lashing out defensively). Mobei-Jun probably thought to himself here, “You know what’ll be funny here? If I just go down now.” I feel it in my heart that Mobei-Jun is a teaser, especially when he’s relaxed and happy.

Shang Qinghua takes the time to fix up his appearance a little more - to get rid of the “I slept with a demon” smell - because if the asshole at his door has kept it up this long, they can wait a little longer. It turns out that he didn’t really need to bother, because it’s his fellow transmigrator and most dogged critic, Peerless Cucumber.

“Bro,” Shang Qinghua says seriously. “Do you have a deathwish?”

Peerless Cucumber - Shen Yuan, Shang Qinghua has to remember to call the kid by his real name - lowers his hand with a scowl. “...One of your disciples told me to knock on your door and keep knocking until you answered,” the other transmigrator says defensively. “After I said you said to meet you in the morning.”

“...Which one?”

“Wen Shufen, I think?”

“Ah, just for that prank, Sticky Fingers is going to be hauling fertilizer for Long Sheng Peak for a month,” Shang Qinghua says tiredly. “Bro, do not believe half the things your martial siblings here tell you. They’re pretty much all liars, cheats, and thieves.”

“Then why keep them around?”

“Ah, well, sometimes you need someone to lie, cheat, or steal.”

“...It’s nearly not morning anymore, you know.”

“Eh, I guess you get a pass this time, since I did tell you we’d have a nice long talk about things tomorrow morning. Come on in.”

AN: I don’t know if this vibe is coming across, but Shen Yuan feels a little ignored and neglected. They just got back from a mission and Shen Yuan has already been shooed off like twice. Shang Qinghua is so busy. Shang Qinghua is so experienced and so established here. Shen Yuan has latched onto SQH as his lifeline, though he’s trying very, very hard to be independent, and yet Shang Qinghua kind of has SY on the back burner most of the time.

Not only is Shang Qinghua the author of this world, but he’s also an important figure in this world. Shang Qinghua really lives here and if the plot wasn’t looming over them, SQH would be very happy here. This place feels 100% like Shang Qinghua’s | Airplane’s world and brand new transmigrator Shen Yuan feels like an unwanted intruder. SY is still lonely and scared.

“...Are you going to try to activate it now?” Shen Yuan asks.

“Hmmm… no, not right now,” Shang Qinghua decides, standing up off the dusty stool he was sitting on. “Cucumber, bro, I’m just not awake enough for tackling anything serious right now. Let me get a few texts and tools together first to test this thing properly, alright? Some safety equipment! Aprons and face shields! Thick, fireproof gloves! I’m still trying to figure out how to safely ask Duan Tianyu what he knows about this map the System apparently made him send me, when he might not even know what the fuck I’m talking about! Maybe he can give us some hints.”

“Who?”

“One of my Huan Hua not-disciples,” Shang Qinghua answers. “I picked up some extras a few deadly missions back. They’re good kids. All grown up now! Less naïve than they used to be! Duan Tianyu is teaching back at Huan Hua Palace now, so maybe I’ll have to be the one to wander over there on some pretense.”

Shen Yuan agrees that getting as much information as possible is probably the better course of action. Shang Qinghua ushers the kid out of his secret basement and his fellow transmigrator goes easily enough. Shang Qinghua complains about his shitty, no-good System on the way up for forcing them to do all the work by themselves.

“It must think everything is more ‘authentic’ if I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” Shang Qinghua suggests, removing his spiritual seal and causing the door to the secret basement to vanish. “Ah, I’ll admit that’s kind of cool to watch.”

AN: Throughout this conversation, SY is kind of reaching out, giving himself or Airplane excuses to let him stay. It’s not that he doesn’t want to cultivate, but SQH represents a sort of safety and familiarity SY doesn’t have right now.

In SVSSS, Airplane was always pretty direct with Shen Yuan, from what I remember, but he wasn’t necessarily open. He was direct about some potentially vulnerable or personal topics, like Luo Binghe’s insanity or his own general fear of his character’s planned death, but that’s not the same as actually being vulnerable. They snap at each other, they’re pretty direct about their personal goals, but they don’t actually get vulnerable with each other by confessing their personal fears and new relationship developments.

So I’ve tried to adopt that here, while making Shang Qinghua a little kinder and slightly more vulnerable, thanks to the efforts of Luo Jiahui. But Shang Qinghua still isn’t necessarily open here and neither is Shen Yuan. He’s just like, “Hey, it’s shit and I don’t like it either, but what can you do?” He’s not actually seriously talking about his breakdown or just how scared he is of his own plot.

For some people, there’s a certain kind of openness in confessing things to a stranger, so it’s kind of like that too. Shang Qinghua and Shen Yuan have fallen into kind of familiar dynamics, because there’s nothing else to really do, and they are kind of acquaintances, but they’re still not friends yet.

I think I want to have SY and SQH actually address this soon. SY feels that SQH has been kind of dropping the ball when it comes to honestly helping his fellow transmigrator, though SY, being SY, can’t quite put his finger on the lack of emotional intimacy and affection that he’s starved for right now.

The day-in-day-out of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect can’t get him down today! He feels kind of like he’s walking on air! Sure, the work never stops and there are some fucking terrifying things ahead, but he just had a very successful mission overall! He just had a really, really successful conversation with Mobei-Jun! He and Mobei-Jun are romantically entwined and Mobei-Jun was very explicit about the fact that he expects them to be romantically entwined… pretty much indefinitely!

“There is no one else,” Mobei-Jun had said. “There will be no one else.”

Shang Qinghua fostered a lot of hopes over the years! More hopes than he felt that he should have reasonably fostered! And to have those hopes unexpectedly fulfilled like this is… really something! It’s really, really something! Mobei-Jun really isn’t the type of character to say that - to say any of the things he said, and wow, he said a lot of things back there - without meaning it completely.

Shang Qinghua doesn’t really know what to do with that.

Forever is a long time.

He understands, of course, that some things really do last an impossibly long time. He used to be pretty certain that all love matches faded eventually - that people were genuinely wildly in love… that people were sincerely in love with each other, sure… up until they inevitably weren’t anymore - but now he can’t really imagine Liu Qingge or Luo Jiahui ever getting tired of each other. Liu Qingge keeps bringing Luo Jiahui new recipes to try and rare ingredients to interest her, so she can make dishes for the two of them or her family as a whole, and Shang Qinghua can easily imagine the two of them doing that pretty much indefinitely.

Shang Qinghua can’t think about this for long, before he has to focus on greeting his disciples (it’s just Peng Hongpeng and Chen Xuan in here at the moment) and getting to work. “Good things last while they last!” he decides for now, because thinking about things not lasting kind of makes him feel like he’s dying.

AN: Shang Qinghua can’t quite bring himself to believe in a relationship lasting forever right now. Part of it is his commitment issues, but another part of it is his persisting inability to see past the looming plot. He’s still worried about Luo Binghe and the Eternal Abyss, so he’s having difficulty seeing past that hurdle, even though things like Luo Jiahui’s marriage and his new relationship with Mobei-Jun are forcing him to confront the fact that there’s still a life outside of and beyond the plot.

For Shang Qinghua, it’s kind of a “I’ll think about that later if we all survive” thing when it comes to him and Mobei-Jun.

“He made a mistake with good intentions and got a small injury for it,” Shang Qinghua says, as reassuringly as he can. “He’s fine! He’s in trouble with his shizun for it, though, but I’ll see what I can do about bringing you up to meet him or bringing him down here as soon as possible. I’ll do my best to make it happen!”

Luo Jiahui leans into Shang Qinghua’s side and admits, “I miss him.”

“He misses you.”

“I miss you too,” Luo Jiahui adds.

“...Ah, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” his sister-in-law says warmly. “I’d miss you even if you visited every day.”

Shang Qinghua is holding her hands, but it feels like she’s got an extra one wrapped around his heart. “Where’s that husband of yours? Doesn’t he come down the mountain every day? Should I be telling him off? Sorry I ran off with him for a little bit!”

“What does Qingge have to do with you and me?” Luo Jiahui demands. “It doesn’t matter how often I see everyone else, I still miss you and Binghe the most.”

“Hm, that’s a point! That’s a point.”

What else can Shang Qinghua do but admit that he misses her the most too?

AN: It was fun to follow up Shang Qinghua’s romantic developments with a return to his most important and longest relationship: the one he has with his “fake” sister. Luo Jiahui is and always will be important to Shang Qinghua and who he’s become. They have such a lovely relaxed feeling that’s nice to revisit. I’ve missed Luo Jiahui these past few chapters, as things get twisted up more and more in sect business.

It would feel dishonest to the rest of the fic if Shang Qinghua’s other relationships disappeared in favor of his new romantic relationship. They all have their own importance. Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge don’t make Shang Qinghua and Luo Jiahui any less important to each other.

I am looking forward to making Mobei-Jun and Luo Jiahui meet again, and tackling some of Mobei-Jun’s thoughts on Shang Qinghua’s relationship with his family. Mobei-Jun has a really shitty family, so it’s interesting thinking about what family means to him and how loyalty/love plays into it.

While he's busy plotting around the plot, there’s a hum of power behind him, the cool whoosh and crackle of a portal opening, the faint hair-rising warning of demonic energy. Shang Qinghua finishes tapping at his own face in thought, looks up at the looming shadow standing behind him, and smiles. He kind of feels like he should run away, but it's too late for that now. He held on long enough that he made it too late for himself.

“Hello,” he says.

AN: I took this almost exactly from the first chapter of Part 3 of this fic. I can’t remember the chapter number, but it was the one titled “The Inevitable Plot”.

Parts 3 and 4 of this fic blend together a little. Part 3 of this fic kind of ends here, but I have a couple more chapters that I want to tackle before I feel that I can say we’re for sure in Part 4? I have some things I want to accomplish before we go into a slight time skip towards the Immortal Alliance Conference.

#tossawary commentary #tossawary svsss #pride is not the word

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