#*cries in starlight* I MISS THEM

[kn96artworks]

빅스(VIXX) - 저주인형 (VOODOO DOLL) Official Music Video (Clean Ver.)

[evilminji]

Okay, you know how bird don't ACTUALLY look the way we think they do?

They are far more colorful? But only to the eyes of other birds?

And it has to do with how light reflects off them and how their eyes are shaped etc etc.?

Well..... humans can see the most shades of green, right? But! We sure as shit can't see UltaViolet and InfraRed? Or shades BEYOND those. Ectoplasmic colors. Magical ones. Third eye, need to see with your SOUL type ones.

Danny? Could very well still have lil baby "kitten's eyes who haven't open yet" syndrome.

He thinks the Zone is Green and his hair is white.

But it's not.

His hair is Starlight colored. Frost. His suit is specifically "the void between stars" colored. Which looks... different? Then black? No, no, guys. How can you guys not see it? It looks REALLY different! How did he not NOTICE before?! They're not ever CLOSE to the same shade! It's like calling salmon and hot pink the same. You know... if you were to compare an actual fish and some irradiated, violently glowing version of "hot pink".

......guys?

His gloves are.... guys, these ares stars. Pressed so close together there's no gap. His body is the night sky, all rearranged. He's wearing SPACE, guys.

*continues to stare at his gloves for the next five hours*

Now... why is this relevant? Because! Danny slowly, as all humans do, adjusts! It's like finally having glasses after years of blurry vision. He... forgets, what it was like, not NOT See Zone Colors. Not completely, mind you, but enough he has to be reminded.

And the Zone? A Realm of the Dead. Specifically, the great catch-all and highway of the Dead. They get EVERYBODY. Misfits and vagabonds. Those who don't quite fit. Funky lil dudes. And of course, assholes, but everybody has those! See, Zone colors?

Are DIFFERENT.

They're all of um!

It's like looking at the technicolor, stobe light, multi galaxies in one, Sun. Tingly(tm)!!! You get used to it. What helps? Is that as garish as the Zone is? The painting and grand tapestry of it all? Keeps changing. Like weather. If it's too much for you, you can stay inside your Lair until the current Color changes. Until the designs shift. Vibe changes.

There are even glasses for that! "Temperate" areas for people to set up, that get headaches or are just... kinda killjoys. Too each their own. Though the stormy areas? Those guys are freaks. Watch out for those guys. They're the kind who stare directly are stars until their eyes burn out.

Where was I? Oh yeah! Danny!

No longer a wee baby, smol baby, twig-o!

Sad. We miss it.

But he did get used to Seeing The Colors. Got a handle on his powers. And! Finally worked with his parents on how to safely turn the portal OFF. There was much booing. Cries of "kill joy" and "booo! You suck!". But? Like? Dude DID have the right to protect his home. Go to college. What can you do?

Problem with THAT is? Baby grew into his "built like a brick shit house of constantly running off to literally tackle the Supernatural excellence" Fenton genetics. He Tall. Muscles! And he PUMPING out "somethings fucked up with me" Vibes!

Add in his DEEPLY Sus off hand comments. Weird ability to tell when someone has or is about to die. Basic immunity to the cold. Fuckin EYE GLOW?

Ha ha... *Horror movie screams from his college dorm mates*

Clearly a demon!

He gets kicked out. Well... not kicked out. He's a model student and broken no rules. They'd never survive the lawsuit. But... he's? STRONGLY INCOURAGED to finish his education elsewhere. Repeatedly. By like... 15 colleges.

Sam is not just livid, she's actively foaming at the mouth.

Breathe, Sam! Remember what your doctor said! Your mortal body can't handle that kinda Vengance spiral! Think of your blood pressure! Breathe!!! (Were not for the laws of this land... and the weak, fleshy constraints of her mortal form!)

Thankfully? Tucker's been interning, remotely of course, with Wayne Industries. He asked his manager where he could find some of those scholarship forms. (Since Gotham University is just a touch out of Danny's price range.) Manager wanted to know why. And oh! Oh holy shit. Apparently? Danny is the hot new office gossip.

People in the main office are OUTRAGED. Danny's "too spooky"?! Too FUCKIN SPOOKY!? Are you KIDDING THEM? Even juicier, a Meta kid from some wacky ghost hunters turned scientists. From a line of Supernatural hunters. Wants to be a aeronautics engineer.

Ooooooh how SPOOKY! Better watch out! He'll design an ENGINE at yooooou!

Fuckin casuals. Non-Gothamites are WEAK. "Too scary" their collective asses. Yeah, maybe the kid SHOULD come too Gotham. He can be the weird kid. Mildly unsettling or something. His powers won't be SHIT in Gotham. Just remind him to buy a gas mask.

So! Danny gets his Scholarship! Merrily packs his bags for darker, Gothic hellscape hills. Unaware... that Constantine has been following reports of a "demon" that he's? 80% sure is a Banshee but MIGHT be a winter spirt with a shtick? For the past 13 colleges. He's getting closer. And this sucker is a strong one.

Not "this is going to cause me serious, life imperilling danger" strong. But more? "Man, that cat is HUUUUUGE". Could he still get mauled a lil? Yeah. Scratched to all hell and back? Probably! But DIE? Unlikely.

He just needs to know why the FUCK this spirit his hanging around colleges.

Which is made harder... by the fact that what HE sees? And what OTHER people see? When they look at this guy? Separate things. Yeah, he'd LOVE to give you guys a description! IF HE HAD ONE.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @lolottes

[readychilledwine]

What Once Was Lost

Rhysand Week Day Three - Loved Ones

Summary - Your baby shower should have been the happiest day of your and Cassian's life, but you and Rhysand just can't shake the feeling that something, or someone(s), is missing

Warnings - Loss of parents and siblings, discussion of mourning and grief, brother/sister bonding moment, pregnancy, angst, fluff, implied favoritism from a parental figure

A/N - Happy @officialrhysandweek day 3. Rhysand's love language towards his family screams gifts. I had something like this planned for a girl dad Cassian fic, but doing it with Rhysand just felt so right as things flowed together. I was pretty excited for this to be a prompt for this week because it gave me an excuse to finally write, revamp, and post this.

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

You were being irrational.

At least you repeated that to yourself over and over as you hid on the balcony. This should have been one of the happiest days of your life. A baby shower to celebrate the life you and Cassian had made after many centuries of trying and trying with no results. Yet, you found yourself a mess of tears and makeup, face buried in your hands and you cried. 

Every celebration came with a feeling of emptiness. It always had and for some reason, you felt it always would. It had been years since the night you woke up to your father's pained screams, since he then clinged to you, holding his last remaining baby girl for dear life, then you lost him too.

You wanted to move on, yet you still felt stagnated, unable to move forward. Something was missing today. Someone. Multiple someones, actually. Your mother, your big sister, your father despite his cruelty. It seemed like a joke to be celebrating without them.

The door opened and shut softly, followed by the scent of salty citrus, “Sister! There you are," Rhysand's face fell as he saw you crying. "Is it that bad,” he asked gently. “Did I mess up planning this that badly? Is it the cake? The white? I promise its-”

“It's not any of that, no,” you interjected. “I- its.”

“Oh.” He knew. Rhysand knew. He had felt it on his own wedding day, after the birth of his own son, after every milestone he accomplished. “You know they would want you happy-”

Those words made you sob harder, hugging yourself tightly. You felt this level of mourning wasn't healthy after so many years, so many heartaches, but it was as if your life had adapted and grown around the murders of your mother and big sister instead of moving on from it.

“Y/n, the depth of your mourning does not determine how much you loved them. What determines that is how we honor them.” Rhysand moved to lean next to you on the wall, “And have we done that. We've changed things mother felt would remain the same until the end of time, we rebuilt the Rainbow in honor of Stel, we ensured their stories were heard, written into the Night Court's history. We even honored our father through alliances, trade, and the crowns we wear.” 

He wiped his own eyes before continuing, “We've honored them by becoming the male and female they expected us to be. By becoming the husband and wife to our partners that they expected us to be. By loving each other and pushing each other to be better the way they expected us to. We've honored them by being happy, by cherishing each other. You, my starlight, have been my treasure since they left us.”

You only smiled slightly, “Until you had Nyx.” Your nephew, your light. He was the source of happiness for the Inner Circle you all had never seen coming. He had spun everyone's world, but mostly Rhysand's. Nyx filled a void with his sweet squishy face and bright blue eyes filled with wonder and joy.

“No,” your brother said the word with such gentleness but firmly. “You are still my treasure. My son is my world. And when i see you with him, I feel complete.” He meant that. You could tell by the little look of pride he had.

The transition from Rhysand as a full-time workaholic to almost stay at home dad had been a rough one, but one he would not undo. Feyre practically ran the Night Court now, while Rhysand enjoyed a life of fatherhood and solitude unless necessary. No one outside of the Inner Circle knew that fact, of course, but slowly, they would.

“Nyx will reshape the world some day,” his hand moved to rest on your stomach, his body moving to face you as it did, “And this little life you a carrying, this little being who is already so celebrated, so loved, who has already brought so much joy, this is his sibling. The closest thing he will ever have with Feyre's choice to never have a child again.”

Rhysand's hand felt your bump, trying to find where the soul growing inside of you was resting. “It's time to stop the circle of grief, dear sister,” he made you look at him. “To live. To love freely. To hold tight to the things we both cherish most. You are carrying the greatest blessing you could ever give this family.”

His eyes were still on that swell of life, a soft smile as he thought out his future niece or nephew, “Two more months,” you reminded him. “You can hold them in two more months.”

“It's forever,” he pouted before placing both hands on your tummy. “Have you two picked names?”

You could only nod as you two held eye contact. You searched those comforting eyes for any sign or hint of the gender you'd be giving birth to. He was the only one who knew the gender of the baby, information he carried so close to his heart he had not even told Feyre. You and Cassian had wanted to be surprised at birth, but your mate's anticipation made it impossible to wait 61 more days.

Rhysand had planned this whole party around that fact. The garden was filled with white flowers. The house had white linens and decorations. He’d gone as far as having enchanted white flowers spread throughout Velaris. 

After the overly extravagant dinner being served, you and Cassian would be moved under the flower arch he'd constructed with Elain. Then, when you both indicated you were ready, the flowers would change to pink or blue. Cassian, Feyre, Eris, and Azriel were all supporting pink, praying for a sweet baby girl. You were in black, matching your brother, in a silent message that you both wanted healthy. Mor, Amren, Elain, Nesta, and Lucien all Sported accents of blue, using old fisher wife stories to say you were carrying a baby boy. 

Rhysand pulled your mind back to the present, to him, with a soft kiss on your forehead. “You look so much like Mother. When I miss her, I look at you and find peace and comfort. I am reminded of the way she looked at me because your eyes look at me the same.” 

He hugged you the best he could, letting there be silence as your tears finally stopped. Rhysand had dedicated his life to Velaris, to the found family you two shared, to you. Your heart and mind knew that dedication would pass to this baby, to raising them to be strong willed, confident, humbled. “People are waiting for us,” he whispered into your hair. “Your husband is waiting for you two. Let's go eat.”

It was a gentle pull of your hand, bringing you to the center spot of the table next to Cassian. Lamb, chicken, prime rib. Rhys had spared no expense to make sure this day was special for you, and the meal filled with all your favorite proteins and sides was proof of that. Food was enjoyed with laughter, final wagers placed between the Inner Circle and Vanserras. 

The time had finally come, faelights guiding you and Cassian to where Rhysand wanted you to stand. Smaller lights had been woven into the arch made from roses, peonies, and wisteria. 

Cassian was a ball of energy, smile growing as he held both of your hands, “Ready, starlight?” 

“Ready,” you confirmed, and before your eyes, shades of pink filled the garden. Pink daisies, pink roses, pink asters and tulips. It bathed the room in promises of gentleness, compassion, beauty, and kindness, the qualities your mother and father raised you to have as Princess of the Night Court. Qualities Rhysand had continued to teach you long after their deaths. 

Cassian lifted you immediately, crying as he held you against him, mumbling into your neck how you had honored him. How you were giving him the most precious thing he'd ever have. Whispering his promises to protect her, to love her, to be a good father to his angel.

The celebration in garden was slowly drowned out by the loud party that had erupted through the streets of Velaris. Fireworks going off, music playing at the highest volume, bells chiming from the temple. The only sign of something different was the wisteria, fading to its soft purple shade, your older sister's favorite flower, your mother's favorite color. Rhys made a confused face at the sight of it before smiling. 

“That's not supposed to be happen,” Feyre seemed almost panicked, moving to fix them.

Rhysand grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks, “That's my mother and sister,” he said quietly. “They're letting us know they're here.”

“How would your dad indicate he's here,” Feyre joked. 

Rhysand only pointed to where a crow sat watching from the tree. Its dark eyes were on you and you alone as the Inner Circle rushed to take turns holding you and Cassian as you both cried out of joy. “Same way he watched her when she was little. Always playing favorites.”

Rhys moved to you then, playfully pushing Cassian away to take his turn. “You have my blessing,” the sentence needed no further details, no explanation. He was letting you use your mother's name. Your lip began to tremble, Cassian nodded as he and Rhysand looked at each other. “I can't wait to meet sweet little Astra."

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

[bowieandqueen11]

Strawberry and Black Tea / Sanji Imagine

Request: for the fluffy sanji request-- maybe sanji and the reader end up sleeping in each other's rooms one night because its hard for them to sleep apart. reader gives sanji a good night kiss and he just falls into a lovesick puddle on the floor.

Something short and sweet because this idea is so so lovely, thank you anon!! :)

Warning: mentions of child abuse!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

It was the Iron Mask that had left Sanji with such a distaste for the dark.

Even now, lying tossing and turning in his bunk on the Going Merry, the dark starlight that creeped through the lone porthole seemed to do nothing but shroud his eyes in a long-suppressed misery. It reminded him far too much of home. Of his father. Of nights spent trembling in dank corners: nothing but the touch of flimsy cobwebs against his outreached hands, and the ratchet of his own voice cawing off the empty stone chamber to ease the frightened child.

Until his paranoid eyes couldn’t tell of the receding monstrous shadow shrivelling up the tower was the receding form of his father, or the unyielding loosening of shrill’s death fingers rasping uneasily across the stone wall by his cage, finally come to fulfil her promise to take him away.

She grew closer and closer, until her liripipe seemed to crow through the bars as she leant down through the shadows to kiss his forehead.

He started scrambling back desperately along the dirty dust, still too young and inexperienced with the true hardships of his life to try and face them head on. Instead he buried his head into his crossed arms, tried his hardest to calm his panting breath, closed his eyes and squeezed. It was the only way, he thought in that tumultuous moment, it was the only at he would be able to hold onto his sanity. To pretend it was you. To pretend it was you. To believe it was you.

A rat scurried out of a hole between cracked shackles, sniffing the air as it noticed Sanji cowering in the corner: the same boy who had showed the rodent such kindness only e weeks before, feeding it leftover scraps of his mother’s favourite crumble, trying his best to clear the dish before his father realised it was missing. The poor thing ran over to Sanji’s shoe, it’s tiny claws pinching into the forgotten prince’s skin as it raised its little body up closer to him. But to that child - oh, that poor child - it was like bony fingernails biting into his bone and extruding coarse chills straight to the bone.

She had come. The wrong person had come. So he did what any young child would do. He started screaming.

He screamed your name. He screamed for his ma, until the screams died, choked by the wails sticking in his throat. Then he whimpered, clawing at the metal screwed against his cheeks until his fingernails were left stunted, jagged, bloodied.

He thought about how alone he was, but realised quickly that wasn’t what made him so sad. He thought about you: how you would react, how heartbroken you would be when his father announced to the world that the young Prince has perished in a terrible accident. He imagined your tear streaked face as you would watch the faux funeral procession parade in a cheerful solemnity down past the main market and into the sea, stealing away into the alleyway and seeing how alone you were.

Most of all, he felt guilty. Guilty that this was all his fault. That he had proved his brothers right. He was weak. He had destroyed his mother. He had ruined you. He was weak. And so he crumpled into a ball, falling onto his side and allowing the sweet embrace of the shadows to lap over him.

His cries had quickly fallen into pitiful whimpers. Then quiet sobs, jolting his body forward in convulsions that had left him gasping for breath every few minutes or so, only broken by the almost angelic sound of the iron wrought door being shoved unsteadily open, and the pained whisper from the top of the stairs. ’Sanji? Sanji! Where the- ow- are you?!’

'Y/-Y/n?' He clambered to his knees, and shoved his arms desperately through the bars, as if he could levitate you down towards him. 'I'm here! I'm here - please! Y/n!' His little fists began to bang on the bars as he scraped up to lean on his knees. 'Help me - get me out, please! She's going to kill me!'

It took you less than thirty seconds to scale down the remaining steps, nearly flying chin first down into the dirt. You didn't care though: not when Sanji's fingernails sliced desperately into your skin and burrowed into the meat of your arm, tugging your forehead against the cool metal of his own. You did your best to cup his face between the clunky mask, pressing your fingers down to his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 'It's alright - it's alright. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here, Sanj. We're going to run, we're going to get away.'

He refused to let you go, even as you bit your lower lip in concentration and wiggled into your pocket to pull out a stash of bobby pins you had pilfered from Vinsmoke Reiju when you had slipped into the castle. Poor Sanji nearly flies backwards onto his behind when you finally manage to click the locked gate open, yet the realisation hardly seems to dawn on him; he's leapt on you in a second flat, knees knocking the wind out of your stomach as he tumbles his torso against your awaiting hug.

'You came', he heaved out between sobs, shoving his grimacing face into the throbbing pulse point on your neck, 'you came back for me... why would you come back for me.'

The absolute dejection in the final warble of his desperate plea made you bite down on your tongue so harshly, you had to shove it against the roof of your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from spluttering on blood. 'Because, Sanj... because you're my best friend. And I love you. And we made a promise, didn't we? We're going to go find the All Blue, but we're only going to do it together. Not one without the other, right?'

He head bobs quickly, desperately. Shaking fingers latch tighter into your back, and although he wants nothing more than to grab onto your fingers and fly to freedom up that winding staircase, he slides his legs to the side and comes to sit awkwardly on your lap like a frail bird. The soft tip of his nose tickles the shell of your ear as he whispers: 'like black tea and strawberry?'

You snort, but nod your head against the side of his curls, tightening your grip around the shaking expanse of his spine. 'Yes chef, like black tea and strawberry. Even though that sounds absolutely disgusting.' His laugh- god, his laugh was so warming, even if the sound cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks slats covering his eyes and began to trace down an old bruised hollow that lay sharp and gaunt on his neck.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-', he starts to panic again, one eye blinking open as he stares into the inky depths of the umbral shade gathering over your heads. 'This is my fault. It's my fault we have to leave.'

'No.' You grab onto his shirt, nearly making him wince, but both of you refuse to unlatch from the other. 'No. This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, and I don't want you to think that for a second.'

The authoritativeness behind your shaking words was almost enough to make him believe you.

He nods slowly, but you can tell he's doing it just to placate you. 'I love you too, by the way', he sniffles, finally leaning back enough so he could wipe what he deemed as an unsightly amount of snot away from his nose. More than you know. More than he could even put into words. More than his young, frightful heart could even yet understand. He's too bashful to look you in the eye, instead skimming his eyes quickly over the torn threads of his kneecap, but finally allowing himself a respite of calm in the knowledge that the love he had been so desperately begging for hadn't abandoned him.

Before the adrenaline could rush out of his body, he leant forward with his head still bowed, and kissed your cheek as best he could in the darkness.

You hadn't left him. You hadn't: you never would. The revelation seems to shift the world around him, coaxing him into believing the sweet twilight sleeting across his eyes was sunlight instead; even though he still felt like his life was spent as a coin flipping through the air, so unsure of where it will land - of where it belongs - of the choices it will wrought, it felt a little easier afterwards, knowing he would eventually land. That it was your hand that would catch him.

He still hated the dark. And he still loved you more than life itself. Which is why you weren't surprised to find yourself running around your room at nearly one in the morning, trying your best to discreetly gather your bed sheets and sneak off towards the boy's cabin.

Before you could even finish gathering your pillow into your arms, the melodic rapt of Sanji's knuckles had rung out through the door. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide across the planks and fling it open, but it took the poor chef a lot longer to catch his breath and try to look more put together; he was doing his best to look suave by the way he was leaning his elbow against the doorframe, but the wind swept hair gave away the fact that he had come running over the side of the ship to get to you. The soft pant of his breath, the ruddy cheeks, the slight spasm of his abdominal muscles through his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, the scratch of his teeth against his inner lip line: you knew his tell-tale sings, his idiosyncrasies far too well. The man was flustered beyond belief, even if he did his best to cock his head and beam down at you.

What really gave it away - what really, really gave it away, though, was the fact that he literally had to clasp his hands together in front of his chest and wring them to stop them launching forward and grabbing onto you with the cloying, overwhelming power of eight octopus tentacles.

You almost have to shove your hand against your mouth to stifle your laugh at the way he flicked his head back to move the hair away from his eye: to anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent tick. But he knew, and more importantly you knew too, that it was just so his glistening eyes could wander across your face, as if the lines and marks of your face mapped out the most beautiful treasure in all the seas.

'Well, my strawberry, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep. Not that you need it! But I, I was hoping, if you were to grace me with such luck, that I may come in-'

Before he can even finish, you've grabbed the knot of his tie and have hauled him across the door line like a fisherman reeling in his hook. Sanji goes flying, landing safely in your open arms, and flopping his back down pleasantly into your hammock. Sanji's eyes widen as he comes sliding down the material towards you, headfirst, stopped only when his chest does the job for him. His arms thump clumsily around your back, using his fall as an excuse to pull you as physically close to him as he can. He huddles up against you, his hand spreading across your shoulder blade and guiding your ear down to rest comfortably just above his right pec. You flush, pretending you don't feel the firm ripple of his tense muscle: don't hear the pounding shudder of his tell-tale heart.

'I'll take that as a yes, ma chérie.'

Distracted by the way your arm falls around his stomach, idly reaching up to curl back the stray edges of his fringe behind the corner of his eye again, his legs inch closer... and closer... and closer... until his left one has plunked down above your own. You have to bury your head into his neck to stop yourself from laughing at how incarnadine his face spreads, warm pink waves radiating off his cheeks as you lift up your knees and slide your free leg in between the heavy weight of his thighs. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

'You know', Sanji starts, once he has calmed his heart from beating so rapidly he feared it may have flopped out through his throat, 'Zeff used to give me a kiss goodnight.'

You lift your head to stare at him incredulously. 'No he didn't. I was there for only... uh...', you lift the arm hanging over the soft skin of his bellybutton to ostentatiously count on your fingers, waving them in front of his face. 'Hm, look at that - fifteen years!?'

He leans his head down until his chin is tucked into his neck, and does his best to try and hide the way his lips are warbling into a grin; he tries to play it off as him finding your antics amusing, as he strokes his fingers tenderly over the warm cotton on your shoulder, but inside he's just so beyond giddy to know that you remembered. To know that you had been together so long. To know that after all this time, after all the two of you had been through, he would gladly dredge through the unspeakable caliginosity again, if it meant he could always arrive at this moment. If it meant, no matter what his life threw at him, he could spend every moment of it by your side.

Even if the shadows are juddering up the walls of the girl's cabin too: even if your stroking fingers can't mask the memories of death's sharp knuckles stretching out across the walls. Even if he were to land, right now, in the waves: if he were to capsize and drown, he would be happy. He would be happy, because it was your hand instead. Your hand.

Too timid still, too apprehensive to admit that which had been a heavy weight holding down the flight of his sweet heart, he hides his love behind canorous tease.

'Yeah, well, Zeff did it when he could be arsed. Which I’m pretty sure was never.'

You snort, and he delights at the sound that he had drawn out. His vice like grip on your side tightens, but you decide better than to tease him for the way he begins squirming himself against you. He finally settles properly on his side, the bridge of his nose so dangerously close to yours that you can feel the shallow warmth of his breath brush over your bottom lip.

'Well-', he starts, trying to distract himself from your proximity. He was failing horribly, of course, because his eyes kept falling down to stare blankly at the seam of your lips. 'This does sure beat sleeping on the dungeon floor, even if we do have to put up with Luffy's snoring.'

'Hm, the dungeon wasn't too bad. Cosy', you say teasingly, letting your finger dance down the shell of his ear, pointing the tip against the jut of his chin and lifting his gaze with a smirk.

'How'd you figure that, sweetheart?' The feel of your finger against his skin, no matter how miniscule the touch, was enough to make the fibres of his body burn with such a want that it almost scared him.

'Because... it was the first place you ever kissed me.'

Sanji starts, eyes widening as he feels his limbs turn to stone.

He can't hide in the shadows anymore. Now, he has to come into the light. Has to let himself be free.

'Yeah, well strawberry', he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue, and folds himself further down the hammock so his knees are drawn warmly up against your own. The shaking of his torso is only overshadowed by the widening of his eyes, so full of deep wonder the dams might have burst and drowned you if he hadn't spent so years cautiously restraining himself. You draw a finger down the pulse point of his neck, and he feels that resolve weaken.

He feels like that frightened boy again, but he knows it has to be now. He knows he's been lucky to have had the luxury of borrowed time, but the bell has tolled: the bill has come due, and now he must admit the truth of his life - of his soul - of his heart, for he doesn't know when it will become too late.

He wanted to kiss you. God, he had wanted to kiss you so badly for fifteen years it hurt. Now, now he was going to create his own light: he was going to thrive, in spite of it all. He was going to allow that child to live. The cage was open. He was free. His choices were decided by nobody now but by his own ruling, his own compassion, and he had wasted far too many years training himself to be sceptical, precise, composed.

'... If you may be so kind as to permit it... I think this beautiful ship might end up being the second.' He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He suddenly becomes hyperaware of it all: of the closeness of your thigh against his own: slick, naked, vulnerable below your pyjama shorts. Your warm breath, inching closer and closer to his trembling mouth as he juts his head back to look warily at you, so afraid he's messed everything up.

But then you surprise him; you rush forward, overwhelming and crushing in the way your lips pliantly slide over his own, licking against the inside of his bottom lip as it drops open, breathlessly.

He had been waiting for this - over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you back: heartily, heavily, with a slipping mouth awaiting your tongue, and clawing fingers coming up to rapt into your cheeks as if you were something fleeting: as if he were still spinning in mid-air, waiting for the shadows to snuff the light out again.

When you finally find the strength, the resilience to pull away, neither of you seem to be able to muster the courage to just finally admit the truth you had both always known. Sanji, instead, looks youthfully shy as he tries to hide his wanting - god, so longing gaze behind his fringe once more, although his tongue can't help but prod against his bottom lip as if in disbelief.

'Like strawberry and black tea, right?', he finally asks against the side of your mouth, nudging his nose against your own and smiling fondly.

'Like strawberry and black tea.'

[threepandas]

Bad End: No Good Turn

I rushed to catch up, as I saw the party leaving. Advisor Leukippos was a hopelessly busy man after all. Seeming to drift, with elegant unhurried steps, from appointment to appointment at a somehow impossible speed. It was near impossible to actually catch him NOT in the middle of something. And believe me, I'd been TRYING!

"Advisor! Respected One! Please wait!" I did not so much... shout (as that would be RUDE. One must NEVER be RUDE around the Yanderians. They take GREAT exception. I've looked them up. Have even started taking classes on the subject.) as sorta? Pitched my voice to carry? Kinda the verbal equivalent of that awkward half jog, not run, people do.

My Yanderian pronunciation is god awful. Probably butchering the words, since I can't, you know, actually HEAR any of the nuanced under or over tones. The slight inflections. Yanderian is a language of SONG. Poetry. Composing some of the most beautiful audible art in the known universe. Some of the pieces I've heard? Are like whale song made of starlight. Birdsong made of thunder.

And that's the RECORDINGS! Which are said to miss SO MUCH of the in person nuances, due to technological limitations!

I, being a human, literally don't have the philosophy to even speak the language properly. Never will.

Not the voice box, not the HEARING, and certainly not the lung capacity. But I wanted to at least try, you know? If nothing else, maybe learn the language. There WERE after all, auditory aids for Yanderians with ear injuries. And! I theoretically? Could contact the company? To see if they would be willing to design a set of nuance readers for a human sized head! Adjusted for human hearing and visual ranges!

To be honest? I just was waiting to be able to send my message in Yanderian first. To prove that it wouldn't be a waste of time. Nuance readers were a time consuming project after all! Had to be customized to the life form wearing them.

Leukippos and his entourage had stopped, turned. Some fully, some only half way, to glance in bemused and startled confusion at the (no doubt strange) little creature trying to hacksaw her way through a sentence in their language. None the less, they DID stop for me, for which I was grateful. Their people were fuckin TALL, man. Long legs. Holy SHIT long legs. G-gimme a second! Gotta...! Breathe...!

I could practically feel their amusement from behind the assorted fans. Eyes curving up to match hidden grins.

"No drink to spill upon me, little one? How shall I recognize you now?" Comes teasing song speech from the man I've been trying, for DAYS, to catch outside of any one of his many responsibilities. I think? That particular rumbling quality? Means "playfully said, not insulting you?"

His body language certainly suggests it.

The laugh that forces its way out of my body? Is the sort that you make, while contemplating throwing yourself into the fucking SEA or a bottomless pit, after dumping your breakfast on like... a world leader.

Because I Basically DID.

Which? Ha ha... oh god, kill me. They wear FUCKING WHITE. The higher the rank? The MORE WHITE! (It's the color of Divinity and Honor! Which DOESNT FUCKING HELP! Oh GOD, does this mean what I did was SACRILEGIOUS TOO?!) Nothing but pale, easily and irreversibly stain-able colors, as far as the eye can see! And I accidentally? Dumped my shitty break room "whatever has caffeine and is still in stock" on him!

FIVE TIMES.

I've literally GIVEN UP open air caffeinated drinks because of this! They are the devil! Evil! Trying to ruin both my sanity AND my life! I don't CARE if canned coffee is more expensive! At least I can't DUMP IT ON A DIGNITARY.

The worst part? The ABSOLUTE WORST? Was how understanding and calm Leukippos was, while I lost my shit. It wasn't even MY outfit. He was the one covered in probably still burning coffee! As I hyperventilated and blubbered apologies and cried at him. Hair a mess! Sleep deprived as FUCK because my boss is an asshole. Well... WAS an asshole.

He came over to yell at me.

Did not go well for him. What with that being Rude™ and me having already spilled the beans that the whole incident was CAUSED by me being overworked. Sleep deprivation slows reaction times, you know?

But then... but THEN! It? Kept?? HAPPENING!!!

Turn a corner? Bump! Right down his front. Leaving a lift? Bump! Splash! There goes my cup! Oh but what about a SAFETY cup? I, like FOOL, naively think! Ha ha...

I nearly concuss him! Somehow! Right over the edge of some railing! Slams into the ground at his feet. Nearly hitting him from THREE STORIES UP, right on the head! Pretty sure the sound I made? Was just as painful to HEAR as it was to rip out of my own throat in panic.

No More Cups! Cups are BAD. This? Anti-cup having household.

We'll drink from fucking SPOONS if we have too! Bowls!

NO CUPS!

And every? Single?? Time??? Leukippos not only stops, in the middle of his unspeakably busy schedule, to calm down and reassure this random ass low ranking alien, who's dumped potentially toxic or dangerous unknown alien foodstuffs, just ALL over his incredibly expensive clothes? He's KIND about it! Polite! Makes light hearted little jokes and says not to worry!

It would be one thing, if he was an asshole about it? But!? He's so politely understanding instead? You just end up standing there. Staring in HORROR. At the slowly spreading stains, on that beautiful, delicate, lovely embroidered white fabric. Clothes that are HAND CRAFTED. Take months if not YEARS to make!!! And you just? Feel your soul... die inside.

Kill me. Fucking END me. I deserve it.

Oh my god.... What Have I Done?

But, hey! If he wants to turn my Horrifying Drink Based Trauma Crimes into a cute friendship meet cute? I'm so unbelievably down for that. Literally ANYTHING so I stop feeling like I'm constantly setting this man's ceremonial robes on fire in front of him, then having him ask if I'M okay or need anything.

Speaking of which? Excitedly I reach into my messages bag, asking if he remembers the over robe he lent me. Another victim to our coffee attacks, the over robe was of a style that traditionally hung open, so it only slightly got hit. His main robe suffering the worst of it. Most importantly, though? The over robe is the main decorative one! Heavy on the subtle off white on white embroidery.

It creates a kind of magical looking effect as the light hits it, it's hard to explain.

But! I got coffee'd too, right? Right down my front! So what does he do? Leukippos slides off his over robe and puts it on me. So I won't be walking around in state that would get me socially embarrassed. Cause a scandal. Still not sure if it's a Yanderian or a "their region of the galaxy" thing.

However, that? Left me with a beautiful, BEAUTIFUL and quickly staining white over robe. Not Today, Satan! So I looked up how to save it. Rushed it to a professional cleaners. They kept it from getting worse but couldn't help me, due to the unique fibers the robe was made off, but knew who COULD and sent me on my way.

I ended up in a breathing mask in little Kkbrixxtttishky. And I know, okay? It's mostly oxygen in that dome. Yeah, it IS, but there are enough fatally toxic trace elements in the atmosphere that unless you have a REALLY good filter mask? It's just safer to go full breathing mask. It's not fucking "paranoid" or "racist" or whatever garbage they'll tell you.

Half those fuckers saying that? Wouldn't even TRAVEL there if their LIVES depended on it! For ALL sorts of VERY reasonable excuses, I'm SURE. Bastards. One breathing mask and an uncomfortable decontamination shower between domes is all it takes! It's barely a few minutes delay between domes. Then you're in!

And? The whole area is beautiful. Everyone is super nice, deeply kind (especially when you get lost... like... A LOT). And oh my god? Do you know how badly I wish I could eat the food without, you know, dying? (God those little pie thingies looked so fucking GOOD...)

Anyway! Long and short of it? The Kkbrixxtttishky cleaner knew how to clean the robe! Even stored it in an air tight container so it could be decontaminated for my safe handling. They? Were so sympathetic? Shared my absolute horror at the situation. We're and ARE an absolute gem. Swear to God I plan to recommend them to anyone who can breathe that grade of atmosphere.

It was worth every unit.

Pulling out a clean, neatly folded robe to return? Feels like a triumph.

"The robe of which I gave you, clean once more." He says, recognizing it on sight. The smile behind his fan seems to grow, from what charmed expression I can see of his face, as he steps closer. "Such care, in trusted hands, this robe has found. Little one, you have gone to great lengths. No easy thing, the cleansing of such cloth. And to return it? None would think you less, should you have kept a gift..."

The songspeech has a distinctly warm tone to it, more then the already fond tone that had been there before. Heck yeah~ Knew it! I KNEW I did the right thing! And besides, it WAS the right thing. I tell him as much. He didn't really GIVE me his robe, he leant me it to help me save face.

The Galactic Senate is unspeakably vast. He was running the risk of never seeing it again but did it ANYWAY. Just so I wouldn't be seen walking around covered in a mess. I was just sorry I couldn't fix the OTHER robes my clumsiness had ruined.

"Virtuous little one~" Leukippos says sings, the nuanced tones, which I could only barely hear, suggesting his words were meant to be both teasing and praise. He driftes closer. His other hand elegantly raising to join the first. Both gripping his fan in an... almost coy sort of way? Ah, I'm probably reading that one wrong. Still learning, after all...

"Won't you join me? A walk with good company, is a pleasant one indeed. I have not had chance to speech casually with you before. We would have sent you correspondence; In accordance with tradition and regard, however..."

Leukippos trailed off. Politely not saying the obvious. Which was that it was fuckin impossible to find me in the G.S. directory, since I was effectively a Nobody, and you'd have to know Going IN which Embassy I worked for. Even then, it'd be rough as hell, dragging me name out of that thing. I was the afterthought of an afterthought, that the forgettable once might of had.

But hey, it pays the bills.

I grin. Of course, I'd love to join him. If I'm not getting in the way! The robe is handed off to one of the smiling members of the entourage. Tucked away somewhere. And I am swallowed into the center of the group. Holy SHIT, they are tall. Like? I knew that. On average? Yanderians were about a foot and a half taller then humans... but STILL? I think these guys might be tall for Yanderians? I feel dainty. Wild.

Leukippos helps with my pronunciation, as we walk. Recommends a few new up and coming artists who's works sound fascinating. Distracted by it all, I don't notice our path meandering away from what I know is his next appointment, and towards his office. At least, I don't until we're alone.

His fan lower gently from his face, revealing handsome features.

I startle, don't know where to look. Uuuuuuuh?! No, wait, what!? No. See, I REMEMBER my basics of Yanderian etiquette block, from the sociology lessons I'm taking. He's not allowed to DO that! He can't DO THAT! Illegal! Naked! Why is he FACE NAKED!? That's like taking your SHIRT OFF! Fine around close friends and family. But JUST around them! ONLY them.

Going 0 to 150 REAL FAST, my guy!

Sputtering, I spin around. I saw NOTHING. Sexy lil fangs WHOMS'T? Ha ha! Jawline whaaaat? No, no! I'm actually BLIND. As of just a bit ago! Terrible, really. Should probably see a doctor! Now actually! Yeah. Now sounds good. I'm just gonna-!!

Softly, elegantly, like a dancer's pose, an arm in billowing white reaches over my should to delicately press against the door. It's the old fashioned kind. Swinging, not slide, made of wood. Must of cost more then I make in a year. The hand presses one finger at a time, a precise little sequence of tap tap tap.

Each finger accompanied by the softest sound of sharp nail tips.

I am suddenly hyperaware. H..How did he move that-?

The friendly atmosphere, the comfort, seems to have been sucked out of the room as thoroughly as an open airlock straight to the void. I am alone with a man I do not... now that I think about it... actually know. I FELT like I knew him. We keep meeting. I've been learning about his people. But do I know HIM? Personally? The nature of HIS character?

I... I do not.

And he is a very, VERY powerful man.

My eyes are locked on the hand, gently holding the door shut. I haven't tried my strength against his. Yet. But the numbers are in my head. The odds. Cold sweat prickles and beads along my skin, my breathe shallow, as I stand utterly frozen. It's a beautifully manicured hand, I note. Strong wrist, there a hint of true muscle, under all those robes.

He smells of trees and musk, spices and flowers not native to earth. The sleeve flowing over my shoulder is dangerously soft. His existence a pillar of heat, right behind me, not touching... but close enough. He seems perfectly content to wait me out. My mind is static.

"We fall in love quite easily, did you know? Oh little one..." His words are sighed confession, sung like falling leaves. Another hand comes up, on the other side of me. "My people greatest folly. Our weakness, our despair. Oh little one, we love too much. It frightens people. How quickly and deeply we fall..."

Why was he telling me that? I... I know the most obvious reason why he MIGHT be. B-but surely not! Ha ha. No way. C-can't be! So Why Is He TELLING ME THAT?!

"Courtship requires planning of course. Research. 'Meet-Cutes' I believe they are titled? Did you enjoy them? Were they proper? I'm to take you on outings next, yes? Flowers and material goods. To prove I can provide and know you well, and ah~"

There was mouth pressed to the nape of my neck, breathing deep against my skin. I could feel the almost lazy hunter's grin, splitting those lips into a smirk. Sharp teeth and hot breathe, dangerously close and already lusting to leave behind marks.

"And I DO know you so well. I have made certain of that, my little one. Dearest little one. Jewel of my heart, soon to be keeper of my name. I will court you in your ways, then I will court you in mine. Our wedding will be beautiful."

My heart was racing. I had to get out of here. Go and never, EVER come back. Oh god, at this distance? There was no WAY he couldn't hear everything. I had to lie! Do something! Anything! Just get out of this room. Back to Earth's embassy!

I... I couldn't move. Afraid. I was afraid.

He's so big. So much stronger then me. I have to get out.

"You shall such peace and love on Yanderia, darling. The other partners will rejoice for a new friend and you will be welcomed. Isn't that lovely? There is so much we do not show outsiders. But you, little one?"

"You will have the rest of your life to learn it ALL~"

[justhereforxreaders]

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Six: Pieces and Players

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: your party arrives in King’s Landing and the venom of the city begins to take hold.

Warnings: anxiety/panic attack

soundtrack

part one: the oath

part two: tempest

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part seven: the rift

Little was said the morning of your departure to King’s Landing. The sun had not yet risen but a dim light through the morning fog was growing over the waves to the east, indicating that the dawn was not far off. Yourself and the Princes had mustered your dragons and gathered among the cliffs above the docks of Dragonstone to watch as the servants loaded the ship with the royal family’s possessions.

You and Jacaerys sit next to each other in the sparse grass as Tempest and Vermax seem to chase each other through the mist above. During your starlight ride with Jace last night, the dragons effortlessly fell back into rhythm like long lost friends. Watching their lighthearted dance overhead brings a wistful smile to your face.

While the two of you watch the dragons in comfortable silence, Lucerys remains upon Arrax’s back, resting his chin upon his crossed arms, looking on somberly. Seeing as Jace’s attempts to lighten his mood during the walk to the dragonmont had been unsuccessful, you decide it’s best to leave him to his thoughts for now.

Shortly after the first rays of sunlight begin to peek over the horizon, you look down to see the last of the parcels and trunks are being placed onboard the ship. Moments after, the procession of guards and handmaids file down the pathway, followed by the remaining members of House Targaryen. A torch is raised up into the air by a guard from the deck of the ship and Luke commands Arrax to take flight. You and Jace stand and stretch your tired muscles then call for your dragons. As Tempest and Vermax make their approach, Jace turns to you with a grin.

“Ready?” He beams.

You roll your eyes playfully as the dragons land beside each other.

“As ready as I can be,” you smile back at him.

Though the three of you could have easily covered the length of Blackwater Bay and reached your destination within a few hours, Rhaenyra had instructed that you remain within eyesight of the ship so that you could all arrive at King’s Landing together.

What began as mindless circles above the vessel, quickly evolved into a race across the width of the bay, zigzagging between the coastlines. Even Luke’s melancholy was not enough to keep Arrax from joining the game. Although distant shouts of protest could initially be heard from the young Prince, they soon become cries of joy as he allows himself to delight in this new experience.

As the sounds of merriment echo through the sky, you are struck by a sudden feeling of nostalgia. Having spent the last three years peacefully on Dragonstone, it had not occurred to you that venturing out into the unknown was something you found great joy in, something you missed even. Only now, you were not alone. Journeying through the sky, alongside the two people you held most dear, was not something you imagined you’d soon grow tired of.

As the day went on, the bay steadily began to narrow as you made your approach towards King’s Landing and a foul stench permeated the air. Though your journey across Essos lead you near many great cities, none of them radiated such a distinctive odor.

Once the ship has docked, you follow Jacaerys and Vermax’s lead over the crowded cityscape towards the dragonpit. The massive domed structure sat atop one of three hills within the walls of the city. It reminded you of fighting pits you had seen littered throughout Essos but far grander than any of them could ever hope to be.

You land in a clearing outside where a small gathering of Dragonkeepers wait, each with large quarterstaffs held aloft. They greet the Princes as they dismount and bow politely to all three of you. Surprised by their cordial greeting, you bow your head in response from behind Tempest’s head. Though as they approach the three dragons, Tempest becomes uneasy and grumbles a warning, eliciting hisses from both Vermax and Arrax. The Dragonkeepers stop in their tracks but stand firmly in place.

“What are they doing?” You ask nervously.

“They escort the dragons inside,” Jacaerys responds, nodding towards impossibly large bronze doors at the base of the dome.

You look down at their expectant faces and gently shake your head.

“No, thank you,” you utter, trying to be stern while remaining polite, “I’ll lead her in myself.”

You urge Tempest forward and the Dragonkeepers make way for her to pass. Upon crossing the threshold, you are greeted by the sight of an impressive stone arena within. You are so enamored by its scale and grandeur that you fail to notice Jace and Luke walking beside their dragons following behind Tempest.

“Spectacular isn’t it?” Jacaerys calls from the ground, a proud grin plastered across his face.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” you admit with a smirk.

Vermax and Arrax excitedly rush forward to a ramp leading below and disappear into the shadowy passage. You dismount Tempest with a groan and move around to her face. Reaching your hand to her snout, you look into one of her golden eyes and nod before pressing your forehead into her scale’s.

“I’ll see you soon,” you mutter then move out of her way so she can join the others.

Whatever progress had been made in lifting Luke’s spirits was immediately lost the moment the three of you filed into the wheelhouse waiting outside the dragonpit. He quietly stared out the window while Jace pointed out various landmarks to you.

Although you had seen The Red Keep while flying over the city, it became more imposing as you drew near from the ground, the red hue of its walls felt like a warning to proceed with caution. As you enter the gates, the sounds of the crowded city behind grow quiet and an eerie silence takes its place. A kingsguard greets the three of you as you exit and hastily leads you into the fortress.

A second guard awaits within and moves towards you, offering a halfhearted bow.

“Please follow me to your chambers,” he says flatly and takes a step in the opposite direction of Jace and Luke.

You look to Jace in confusion and his brow furrows as he moves to stand beside you.

“Where are their chambers?” He asks, emulating both Rhaenyra and Daemon with his authoritative tone.

“The servants quarters, my Prince,” he bows fully, “as instructed by the Queen.”

“Nonsense,” Jace scoffs, “there are an abundance of vacant rooms that are perfectly suitable.”

He wraps his hand around your forearm and gently pulls you away from the guard.

“See them moved into the apartments near ours,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Yes, my Prince,” you hear the guard mumble as you are led away.

“Come with us until this is sorted,” Jace says with a smile, “I want to show you the training yard.”

Despite the unabashed stares that follow as your trio passes by, Jacaerys walks with his head held high. You watch with admiration at your friend’s defiant confidence, imagining what it must have been like to grow up under the shadow of such scornful eyes. Though your skin crawls at their glances and whispers, the idea of someone so young having to endure this treatment day after day makes your stomach turn.

When you reach the training yard, Lucerys perks up momentarily. The sound of combat echoes off the stone courtyard and Jacaerys rushes forward to place his hands on a divot in one of the walls.

“See?” He calls back to the two of you, “I told you this would still be here. And you thought you could swing Criston’s morning star.”

He runs back to Luke and rustles his hair.

“Nearly took your own head off,” he laughs and begins examining the weapons laid out before them.

Upon receiving no response, Jace finally voices his frustration.

“What’s your problem?” He snaps at his brother.

At this, you back away quietly and join the circle of onlookers surrounding the sparing match, giving the Princes privacy to air their grievances.

As you enter the crowd, you watch as a dark haired man swings a morning star at a silver haired figure behind a shield. The morning star sails through the air, missing its mark, and instead finding purchase in the dirt. He quickly pulls it from the ground and swings again at his opponent, this time taking a chunk from the shield on impact. The silver haired man discards his broken shield, revealing an eye patch over his right eye.

With the silver hair and the one eye, you immediately recognize him as Rhaenyra’s half brother, Prince Aemond, the man Lucerys took an eye from. A quiet gasp from behind you confirms your suspicion and you turn to see that the Princes have joined you. You reach out a hand to Luke but are interrupted as a quiet applause erupts from the crowd, bringing your focus back to the finished match.

“Well done, my Prince,” the dark haired man says with a smirk, “You’ll be winning tourneys in no time,” the dark haired man continues.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” he utters flatly then turns your direction. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

You puff up your chest defensively, willing yourself to become a wall in front of your Princes. The remaining eye of Prince Aemond shifts to you briefly before the gates fly open and everyone’s attention is pulled to a lord and his escorts as they trudge through the yard. You look back to ensure Aemond’s focus has moved from Jace and Luke, only to find his gaze still lingers on you.

He looks you over, assessing you closely. You adjust your posture slightly, allowing you better access to your daggers, and he takes notice of the subtle shift. He finds your eyes before turning away with the slightest smirk.

You watch as he walks away, not enjoying the idea of having your back turned to him, until Jace places a hand on your arm.

“Let’s find my mother,” he says and you look to see his gaze fixed on Aemond as well.

Your trio departs with the rest of the crowd and continue to pass through endless staircases and passages when you happen upon Rhaena wandering the halls, walking alongside a girl of similar age.

“Baela!” Jacaerys calls and runs forward to meet them, “I’m glad to see you here.”

“You as well, Jace.” She says with a laugh.

When you and Lucerys reach them you bow politely at the new face. You had heard of Daemon’s eldest daughter but had not met as she was at ward on Driftmark.

Jace places a hand on your shoulder.

“This is y/n,” he proudly introduces.

“Well met, Dragon Rider,” she smiles and nods a bow while Rhaena scowls from behind her.

“Have you seen our mother?” Jace asks of both of them, releasing your shoulder.

“I left her not long ago with the Princess Rhaenys in the godswood.” Rhaena mutters, avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

“Thank you,” Jace says with a small bow and moves past the sisters, walking forward with purpose.

Lucerys follows suit, leaving you behind momentarily.

“Pleasure to meet you, Baela.” You say quietly before chasing after the Princes.

As you run after Jace and Luke, they come to a sudden halt and you nearly run into them as they make way for a silver haired woman storming down the hallway. The woman glares at the Princes as she passes by and, for the first time since your arrival, Jacaerys shrinks back.

You duck your head as she passes and only once she has disappeared around the corner do the boys continue through a doorway leading to a courtyard where Rhaenyra stands alone beneath the blood red leaves of a heart tree.

“Mother,” Lucerys calls and rushes forward to embrace her, shaking her from her quiet contemplation.

“Hello, how was the journey, my love?” She asks, returning the embrace, making an effort to appear animated for her second son.

You and Jacaerys join the two of them beneath the tree as Lucerys regales his mother with his highlights from his first long distance flight.

“Have you gotten settled in your chambers?” She asks, a faraway look in her eye.

“Not yet,” Jace informs her with an exasperated sigh, “Alicent left instructions for y/n to be housed in the servants quarters. I told them to find something near our rooms instead.”

Rhaenyra smiles but it fails to touch her eyes. She then turns to you.

“Have you enjoyed the capital thus far?”

“It is very different from Dragonstone, just as you said, Princess. I imagine it takes some getting used to.” You admit honestly.

She nods and pulls Luke in once again before planting a kiss atop his head.

“Go get some rest,” she says and removes her arm from around her son, gently guiding him towards his brother, “Jace, please see Luke to his room. I’d like private word with y/n.”

Jace looks back and forth between the two of you, concern clear upon face but he nods regardless. Luke scrunches his face in confusion as he’s pulled away and you shoot them both a reassuring smile before leaving you alone with the Princess.

Once they are out of ear shot, she snakes her hand into the crook of your arm and guides you over to a nearby bench.

“I am very grateful for your friendship with my sons,” she begins in a gentle tone. “As you have already seen, they were not treated as they should have been by their peers and subjects.”

She lowers herself down onto the bench and invites you to sit beside her.

“I know that you and Jacaerys are especially close,” she pauses, taking your hand between hers, “which was harmless enough when you were children, but now that you are both grown, I am afraid I must ask that some distance be put between you.”

Her words force you to inhale sharply and it takes everything in you not to pull your hand from hers as she continues.

“There are certain duties required of an heir to the throne. And I fear your close proximity may restrict his opportunities to perform those duties.” She releases your hand and you pull it back slowly, balling it into a fist as it returns to your lap. “He has been the victim of slanderous murmurs since the day he was born and I do not wish my son’s name to befall any further insult or injury. Whether true or not.”

Her hands fold across her growing belly and she searches your eyes, “Do you understand?”

You turn from her to look at the face carved into the bark of the tree in front of you and nod silently.

“I am sorry to ask this of you,” her tone becomes empathetic and she follows your eyes to the tree before continuing, “I do not wish to cause you strife. But the time for us to gain further allegiances may be approaching faster than anticipated and we cannot afford for Jace appear ineligible.”

“As you command, Princess.” You speak with a quivering voice.

“It is not a command,” she corrects but it makes little difference to you, “it is a request. You may choose to ignore it.”

She stands and places a hand on your shoulder.

“But I know that you truly care for my son. And I trust you will choose what is best for him.”

She removes her hand and walks towards the exit. Before passing through the door, she pauses and calls back to you.

“We would be pleased to have you in attendance tomorrow,” she says with a slight grimace, aware of how conniving her words must sound, “we need as much support for Luke as we can muster.”

“As you wish, Princess.” You stand and turn toward her to bow lifelessly.

A tightening takes hold within your chest and you force yourself to breathe slowly and deliberately. Once the Princess has vanished into the darkness of the castle however, you collapse to your knees, clutching your chest. Quiet sobs begin to radiate through your body and you turn around to lean your back against the bench, tears pouring uncontrollably.

As lovely as the picture of the future Jace painted for you just the evening before was, and as hard as you willed yourself to believe it, you knew the part you were destined to play would inevitably be revealed. And though Jace’s words in the cave had given you some glimmer of hope that you would be allowed to remain by his side, Rhaenyra’s command made it clear that your continued presence in the Prince’s life would not go unnoticed, or without consequence. And neither would your growing affection for him.

You had always known his destiny and thus always knew you would not be able to play a meaningful part in it. Which you had convinced yourself was enough to keep any deeper feelings from arising. But in the skies over Dragonstone, that destiny felt far enough away that you had unknowingly begun to falter in your resolve.

It was easy enough to hide those feelings from yourself. Hiding them beneath the friendship. But now that that was also being stripped away from you, an ache tore across your chest like fire.

You pick yourself up on shaking legs and stumble forward, catching yourself on the trunk of the heart tree. Its eyes ooze a deep red sap and you look upon it like a mirror. A dragon’s screech from above breaks you from its gaze. You jump back and wipe the tears from your face, searching the sky for the source but finding nothing. Suddenly desiring nothing more than to run back to Tempest and escape to the sky but knowing that is a luxury you will be forever denied. Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you turn around and return to the labyrinth you have sworn yourself to, now fully understanding the consequences of such a vow.

• @eywas-heir

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #9

(An idea I had late last night when I should have been sleeping)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas

✦

Lost Children Saved by the Lost

After being rejected by his parents and almost captured for experimentation, Danny escapes into the Ghost Zone. He wanders listlessly for nobody knows how long. It could have been days, months, years, but he wouldn't know how much time had actually passed.

He missed his friends, his sister, hell even his bully. However, the longer he wandered, the more he began to forget their voices, their facial features. Everything. He couldn't even remember what his obsession was. He wandered so long that the only thing he remembered was the aching and devastating feeling of his parents rejection of half of himself.

Eventually growing bored of the neverending expanse of the Ghost Zone, he takes a random portal and winds up in the DC Universe. Although, not in modern times. He finds himself hundreds of years in the past but couldn't find it in himself to care.

At least until he hears the cries of a child in distress. He goes searching and finds a little boy, weeping while curled up on the filthy ground, begging for his parents. The boy was emaciated, clearly not having had food in a very long time. His core jolted and ached at the pitiful cries. Was this his obsession? What was he supposed to do?

He only hesitates for a moment before he approaches the crying boy.(1) The boy flinches at the movement of shadows before looking up to meet the aurora green eyes of a man made of starlight.

"Hello, little one." He greets softly, automatically speaking the boy's language he heard only moments before. (2) "What's wrong?"

The boy is quiet as he wearily examines the man before him. Long hair the color of snow illuminated by moonlight. Olive skin that seemed to have a blue tint to it. The pointed ears and the loose, black clothes that seemed to have the cosmos playing across them. The most striking of all the man's features, however, were the rays of blue-green light flowing from his back like the tails of comets racing across the night sky. Despite the light they exuded, the wings seemed to absorb the heat from the air, letting off a cool but pleasant temperature. (3) The boy gazed cautiously into the man’s eyes, looking past his odd features, and found only kindness as well as a strange, deep-seated sadness. No matter how his mind said no one can be trusted, his gut said the man meant no harm. He decided to respond to the strange man's question.

"My parents," he began, stopping to wet his painfully dry lips. "They don't have money for food. They left me here because I am too much of a burden to keep."

The boy looked down, avoiding the man's eyes as if ashamed. His words made the man's core ache even more than before, vague and foggy memories flashing briefly behind his eyes. His core pulsed in his chest, urging him to do something. He didn't know what exactly, so he simply said the first thing that came to mind.

"Now that won't do. How about we look for others who would take care of you instead?" He said as he gently picked up the small boy and carried him cradled in his arms. The boy stares up at him as the man walked with his head held high and looking forward.

"Who are you, mister?"

The man's eyes became clouded as he mulled over the question before answering, carefully measuring his words.

"I've long forgotten what my name was. It's been so long since anyone's called me by it." He said, with sadness coloring his tone. They walked in silence for a couple of seconds before the man seemed to brightened a little. He looked at the little boy with soft, green eyes and a smile. "Why don't you choose a name for me, little one?"

The boy gained a look of concentration as he took the request seriously. The man continued walking in silence as he let the boy think, eyes forward as he searched for a family to take the boy in. His core was tugging him towards one particular house, practically singing as he came to a stop in front of the door. (4) He leaned down to gently set the boy on his feet before he himself kneeled to the boy's level.

Hands on either side of the boy's face, he kissed the child's forehead. Silently, he placed a blessing on the boy, a faint glow that went unseen to mortal eyes. He wished for the boy to know true love and happiness. For his parent's abandonment to leave no scars on his mind or in his heart. With that, he stood up once again and knocked on the door.

"Goodbye, little one. I've done what I can." He said as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" The boy called out. The man stopped and looked back with a curious light in his eyes, the stars on his clothes seeming to briefly brighten as well. Once the boy saw he had his attention again, he continued.

"I thought of a name for you. If you'd like to hear it?" He askes hopefully.

The starlit man smiled, before nodding. "I'd be happy to hear what you've come up with."

The boy brightened up before opening his mouth to speak once more, hurrying as he heard footsteps approaching from the other side of the door.

"What do you think of..." (5)

✦

Whelp. That was interesting.

Notes:

(1) Should the boy be an actual character that's established in the DC Universe or just a random child?

(2) When I thought of this, I was thinking Danny wound up somewhere in Ancient Rome. So, I think he'd be speaking Latin here.

(3) Comets are made of stardust and ice, which means they are also cold instead of hot. At least until they're warmed by the sun. I thought it was quite fitting, honestly. They also are often seen to give off a blue-green color! How cool it that? Ha!

(4) Danny's obsession is so ragged and starved after wandering for so long that it latches onto the first thing it could to give it a jumpstart. Protecting lost children (lost in one way or another) and leading them to families who would actually care for them. He is the one who urged Martha and Johnathan Kent to adopt Clark. He helps Billy Batson eventually find a forever home. This even plays a role in how Bruce meets each of the Robins. Jason will be the first and only child Danny ever fails to give a permanent home to because of Jason's feelings towards Bruce over his death. Danny adopt Jason?

(5) When I was thinking of what the boy would name him, I immediately gravitated to the names of stars, which seems pretty obvious considering how I described Danny here. Anyway, what I chose was Regulus because it's a blue-white star and the brightest one in the constellation Leo, also called the Lion's Heart. Not only that, but the Latin meaning of Regulus translates to "little king" or "prince". Not to mention it's also a common name among Saints. You don't have to use the name Regulus tho! Come up with anything you want to call him!

(*) Should Danny just be an immortal patron saint of orphans and lost children, or should he be upgraded to a patron God?

[spacebarbarianweird]

HC or fic request (whatever you have the inspiration for): post-game unromanced Astarion (let's say Tav chose another companion from the very beginning) with an OFC of your choosing, though I would love a human or even a half-elf. As much as I love Tavstarion, I feel like the the possibility of Astarion finding love in someone other than Tav a rather unexplored scenario in fan fiction.

I like this idea, too! You know, before the patch 6 ending was released, people had been sure that Astarion would be doomed to be alone if didn't romance Tav. But unromanced Astarion obviously lives his best life possible! He hunts monsters, enjoys his freedom, explores himself. And he can be sure he doesn't adapt his mindset to his lover's interests. I actually think if I am not tired of writing about Astarion, I will write a longfic set in another timeline where Astarion doesn't stay with Tav and goes on his own. As for now, here is a headcanon!

Unromanced Astarion Post-Game

Masterlist

Headcanons

It isn't easy to be on his own.

Astarion craved solitude when he was a slave but now he doesn't know what to do.

He can't make decisions for himself. Which quest to take, what clothes to wear, what inn to stay.

Astarion finds it crippling to be so dependent on the opinions of others - but what other choice does he have?

He doesn't trust anyone.

And the world has changed so much in the last two centuries!

He doesn't recognize places, he has no idea how that world works now.

At days, he cries, mourning his life pitying himself.

Six months pass. He gets invited to the party.

Astarion collects himself. He needs to impress his old friends, he must not look like a wreck.

He tells about his monster hunting job avoiding the fact he barely worked like one. He drinks and laughs but he is a bad liar.

Halsin, the archdruid, doesn't force Astarion to talk but offers to go to the Shadowcursed lands and help the Emerald Grove and the Harpers get rid of monsters.

Astarion agrees that instant.

For the next ten years, he has a purpose. For the next ten years, he has fun.

And he finally starts talking to other people about his experience.

To his surprise, people around show support.

Yes, they are still afraid of him but they say he has every right to be the way he is now after all that happened.

Ten years later, Astarion grows tired of this place and decides to leave.

Gods damn it, he will be missed!

Astarion goes north, hoping to see more and more of the Sword Coast.

Vampirism has its benefits regarding strength and regeneration but, sure, it's better not to be an undead.

He decides to go looking for the cure.

Eventually, he joins an adventuring party of the most weird and random people Astarion has ever seen.

And the weirdest of them all - is a Spore Druid who talks to herself.

She is straightforward. Rude. Weird. Oblivious to so many things, Astarion is surprised this person has managed to leave the house and not get lost.

But utterly adorable.

She is a Wood Elf and her skin is like copper.

It takes him more years to realize he is in love. The feeling is weird to him, he doesn't know what to do with it.

They spend decades traveling together and looking for the cure before ending up in a distant village where no one pays attention to the weird couple.

Her Circle accepts him, too.

Astarion doesn't know if it lasts forever or if he will leave eventually.

But for now...

This is good.

--

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

@nyx-knox

@jessaryss

[possibly-evil]

posted this on ao3 but I thought id put it here too

what if Paul got shot on the helicopter?

The helicopter lifted off the ground, away from the hoards of the mindless hive-mind, away from the sound of music, away from Hatchetfeild.

“Yes!” Emma shouted victoriously, her voice shaking with the helicopter.

“I thought I was gonna fucking die,” she lifted her fist up, grasping onto the seat with the other hand, “in Hatchetfeild!” 

Paul clicked his seatbelt in.

“But we’re not, Paul! We got out of there and we’re never going back,” she said, grinning ear-to-ear.

“Fuck you, Hatchetfeild!” The helicopter shook and Emma jerked to the side.

“Emma, seatbelts,” Paul said, holding onto her arm. He wanted to celebrate too, but he was more concerned with their safety. “It’s a little bumpy.” Emma nodded and slid back into her seat, clicking her seatbelt in.

“Hey! Hey, ma’am? You really saved our asses back there.” Emma said to the pilot. She didn’t respond.

“Ma’am?” Paul said. Maybe she couldn’t hear them. “Thank you, hey!” he said. Oh well. They could thank her when they landed. But for now, they were sa-

“Hey, Mr. Business, how do you do?” The pilot sang slowly as she took her hands off the steering wheel.

“Zoey?” Emma whispered, her hands clutching the seat, eyes wide. Paul’s stomach dropped.

“Can we get a triple for you?” Zoey swung around and pointed a gun straight at Paul’s heart. They both froze. The seatbelt was trapping Paul against the seat. He tried to move away from the gun, but it was too late.

A gunshot rang out. Paul screamed. Emma kicked Zoey’s arm up, towards the ceiling just a second late.

Another gunshot. The emergency alarm blared in their ears as the helicopter raced towards the ground.

-

The dust cleared and Emma found Paul sitting next to her in the helicopter, with Zoey nowhere to be found. He was holding his hand up to his chest.

“Paul!” Emma cried, unbuckling her seatbelt. Blood covered his shirt.

“Oh fuuuck…” he groaned, desperately trying to cover the wound. With his hand. Emma was pretty sure it had missed his heart, but there was a whole lot of blood.

“We need to get to the shore, get off the island somehow!” she said, trying to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“No- ow!” he said as she accidentally hit the wound with her hand. Emma lifted her hands up and leaned back, not wanting to hurt him again.

“Emma- I can’t make it. I’m not getting off the island.” Emma shook her head. No. He had to get off the island. He had to.

“Paul, those things are going to find us!” she said, desperately trying to come up with a way to get them to safety. Paul grabbed her arm.

“You gotta fucking kill them before they do.” He rasped. Emma stopped. Of course.

“The meteor.” she said out loud. “The meteor is the hive mind. I have to destroy it, like your friend said, you know, destroy the head or whatever?” Emma said. Paul winced.

“Ted?”

“I don’t know your friends fucking names!” she took a breath. “Ok. Ok. Ok.” She got up and looked around. Grenades. She grabbed the grenades from the front of the helicopter.

“I just need to get to the starlight theater, destroy that meteor, and all those things will drop dead.” She sat down next to Paul, grabbing his shoulders.

“I sure as shit hope so,” He said, lifting up his hand to look at the wound. More blood gushed out. “I’ll stay here and try to hang on.” He waved Emma away, his face contorted with pain. He didn’t want her to see him like this.

“Paul, I know why you came into Beanies all those times, instead of just going to starbucks.” 

Paul winced. “You do?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t because you liked our shit coffee.” Emma laughed a little. 

Paul nodded. “Emma, you need to go.”

“Our coffee was shit,” she continued. Her eyes started to tear up. “Because we didn’t care.”

“Emma, you need to-”

“And sometimes we spit in it, and you might have drank my spit, but I didn’t know you back then, and… and…” she trailed off, getting choked up. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I don’t want to die either,” Paul said, grabbing her hand. “But, hey, if we get through this, I'd like to go see a movie with you, maybe? A nice, silent, movie.”

Emma nodded. “But… um… in case we don’t… kiss me?”

“Emma, I'm bleeding to death. There’s blood-” Paul coughed up blood, “-in my mouth. Go.”

“Yeah, fuck it, you’re right.” Emma stood up. She started climbing out the door, then looked back at Paul, who was desperately trying to put pressure on his wound.

“Goodbye, Paul.”

“Goodbye, Emma.”

-

Paul stood in Clivesdale, the officer standing across from him.

“How’s that wound doing, Kevin?” Paul shook his head. His wound still hurt, but the officers had gotten there pretty quick after Emma left to destroy the meteor. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened there. All he knew was she had died, and the starlight theater was destroyed. And the meteor. Hopefully.

“Why did it have to be Kevin?” he asked, adjusting the backpack he had on. “I liked my old name. Couldn’t you at least have picked something similar, like Pa…” he trailed off. “Actually I… can’t think of anything. Nevermind.” The officer shook her head.

“Sorry Kevin, we can’t have people making any connections between you, and Paul Matthews, who perished in the Hatchetfeild Catastrophe.”

Paul- or Kevin? No, he wouldn’t ever be able to think of himself as Kevin. He nodded. Emma wouldn’t have just nodded, he thought as the image of her leaving the helicopter flashed in his head. She would’ve asked for a cooler death, maybe. Something dumb, but bold. Brave. But Paul wasn’t like her. He wished he was. He adjusted his bag again. Inside he had a new passport, social security card, and a deed to some land in Colorado. Maybe Emma would’ve started her pot farm with that. Maybe he would start one in her honor.

“And you- you’re sure there were no other survivors?” He asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“We’ve been through this, there were no survivors.” She thought for a moment. “Save for a pocket-sized squirrel we found burrowed in the chest of a local woodworker.” Paul laughed a little.

“Peanuts!”

“Now that is a story we can disclose to the public!” Paul smiled a little. Gosh, that might’ve been the first time he smiled since he woke up in Clivesdale. The officer looked at him, noticing his expression.

“Emma was a good woman, Kevin. If it wasn’t for her, the infection would’ve spread to the mainland.” Paul nodded. There was silence for a moment, and the woman turned to go.

“Oh, and one more thing.” The officer said, turning back. “You’ll be escorted to Colorado by Ms. Becky Bridges. She’s waiting outside.” Paul shook his head.

“I don’t know any Becky Bridges. I don’t have friends outside of Hatchetfeild.” The officer shrugged.

“According to our records, you two were very close friends. People would like to say it’d become something more.” She winked, and hastily left the room. Paul's heart raced. No, there was no way. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t-

Emma Perkins walked in, unblemished, alive. Paul gasped, then laughed. “Oh my god! Emma!” They embraced. “We made it, we made it!” He held her close. Nothing would ever happen to them. They were safe, forever and alwa-

“Paul, I'm sorry, you lost…” Emma sang, pulling out of the hug, her lifeless blue eyes staring into his.

[gay-dorito-dust]

If you're still doing Billy Batson requests, may I request one where he decides to introduce Reader to his superhero "friend" and use that as a way of revealing his feelings? A la how Freddy did it in Fury of the Gods? Maybe Readers a little clever and figured it out before hand? Idk, you're the creative genius so I trust whatever you do.

‘This is beautiful.’ You whispered to yourself as you stepped out onto the roof that overlooked the city just as the first signs of pinprick starlight dotted across the sky, some standing out in a background of midnight blues whist others were shyly hiding behind curtains of purple and oranges.

‘Not as beautiful as you.’ Billy thought as he found himself lost in how natural you looked up here with the silhouette of city acting as your backdrop before reminding himself of why he brought you up here and away from everyone in the first place. It’s now or never Batson. now or never. It’s been a long time coming and you’ve been putting it off time and time again, but now it’s just you and them…on a rooftop during a starry night. If I miss this, then I’ll never know when the right time will come again.

‘What’s the occasion?’ You asked.

‘What?’ Billy said a tad bluntly, which only made him internally cringe at himself.

‘What’s the meaning of bringing me up here Billy, you wouldn’t take me somewhere secluded if it wasn’t serious.’ You said, starting to think that Billy was going to admit to something that he didn’t wish to share with the rest of his family.

‘I wanted you to meet a friend of mine.’ Billy’s voice cracked halfway through and out of embarrassment he cleared his throat before continuing, ‘he’s a little-no, he’s very well know and when I told him about introducing you to him; he told me that due to how super, mega, ultra famous he is- his words not mine- he’d rather your first meeting go off without som crazed fan coming in to interrupt you guys.’ Your brows immediately went up as your suspicions concerning Billy’s ‘friend’ had only just begun. You knew Billy was a smart kid and wouldn’t dare make friends with the wrong people but for his sake, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Alright,’ you sighed, clasping your hands in front of you, ‘let’s meet this mystery ‘super, mega, ultra famous dude then, any friend of Billy Batson’s is a friend of mine.’ Billy, seemingly relived at your acceptance to meet this friend of his, got up from beside you, an action of which cussed you to look over at him with furrowed brows; just about to get up to follow after him when he puts his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place. ‘I’ll go get him, you just stay here alright?’ He could see the worry in your eyes and Billy squeezed your shoulders, ‘it’ll be okay, nothing going to worry about, everything is under control.’ Billy tells you and while you were starting to become more and more concerned, you were still willing to see this one through without jumping to conclusion.

‘Fine.’ You conceded, ‘fine. I’ll stay put.’ You reiterated as Billy removed his hands from your shoulders and began to back away from you slowly with a smile spreading across his face, ‘I promise you, you’ll love him. You won’t regret this!’ He said cheerfully as he rushed off towards an area that laid just behind of the door you entered to get up here and not a second later, a odd flash of lightning stuck that specific area, causing you to involuntary flinch away at the suddenness of it all. You were taken aback that after the lightning had subdued, your mind immediately went to Billy as a gasp left your mouth and you were already up on your feet.

‘Billy? Billy?!’ You cried, ‘Billy where are you?! At least tell me you’re okay?! Give me a sign or something to let me know your alright!’ You began moving towards the area he had left to prior when you heard the sound of fabric flapping in the wind and when you go to look over your shoulder; you were immediately greeted by an man in glaring red spandex with a golden lightning bold adorning his chest, golden armoured boots, all of which was topped off by a pure white cape with an hood attached to it.

‘You must be y/n.’ He boldly said as he allowed himself to land on the rooftop. ‘He told me a lot about you, ya know.’ You couldn’t quite place your fingers on it but for some reason this guy felt all too familiar to you. Was it how he held himself? Was it his boyish grin that reminded you of a certain someone else? Whatever it was, it was confusing you greatly and you if there was one thing you hated more then anything and that was being left confused. ‘Oh yeah? Can’t say the same for you I’m afraid,’ you replied, braving a step towards the hero, ‘this is the first time he’s ever mentioned you, really and I’m starting to wonder why that is.’ You wondered aloud as you notice the familiar shades that made his eyes that you knew so well.

‘You know Billy,’ the hero stated, shrugging, ‘fully of surprises that one.’ He chuckled but you weren’t exactly in a gaming mood, especially not when you had yet to see Billy from after that fatal stray lightning strike. Now you were really starting to become suspicious. Billy disappears, a lightning strike soon follows after and now this guys shows up? It all seems to be connected somehow but you had yet to make the connection through the worry you felt for your best friend. ‘How’d you know him, Billy I mean.’ You asked, why’d you ask that you didn’t really know but you guessed it was to take your mind away from the slim chance that Billy might be very much injured or worse. You secretly hoped neither were the case.

‘Oh that little guy helped me on one of my escapades.’ He replied nonchalantly as though having a teenage civilian interfering with hero business was something commonplace. Again, your brows were raised in suspicion, ‘Billy helped you throw some bad guys behind bars?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Billy Batson did?’

‘Is that such a hard thing to believe? Or are you more worried of the fact that he could’ve gotten hurt because if that’s the case, you needn’t worry as he was under my protection the entire time.’ He told you with a comforting smile and once again you were hit with a sense of familiarity. You felt as though you’ve seen it before multiple times but how could you when you’ve never met him before…unless…no that couldn’t be…then again a lot weirder things have happened before, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. All you had to do was prove your theory right and there was only one fail proof way of doing that, first you’ve gotta lure him into a false sense of security; Now was the time to use your acting abilities.

‘You’re right, I’m worried about him,’ you admitted, which took the hero off guard as he quickly recovered with a look of understanding, ‘I’m always worried about Billy and I can’t stop myself from wondering throughout the day if he’s okay, if he safely made it home.’ You looked out at the city, but made sure to keep the hero within your line of sight as you said your next choice of words. ‘That’s the price I get for liking a guy as stubborn as him.’ You weren’t lying when you said that you liked Billy and the fact that you were so brazen to admit it aloud, especially in the presence of someone you suspect to be Billy in some form, only made you more shocked at where that sudden form of confidence came from. It felt exhilarating.

‘You do?’ If the spandex male was a prepubescent boy, you would’ve certainly heard a voice crack in there somewhere as he then proceeded to clear his throat before continuing. ‘Of course you do, it’s only natural to feel that way about someone. Billy might not admit it but he likes you too, I can tell by the way he talks about you and how he’s get this…far off look in his eye as he imagines your smile, your eyes, your…everything.’ The hero moved to stand beside you…in the exact spot Billy had sat previously. ‘He’s a smitten kitten that kid.’ He then looked at you with a soft look, he cares about you, genuinely, I’ve never seen someone so dedicated to someone as he is with you…it’s a rather beautiful thing come to think of it.’

You looked over at him and everything was starting to come together as you plastered Billy’s features on the heroes face. The way they smile were the same, the crows feet that pulled at their skins when they smiled were the same, they way they stood next to you were the same, the way their eyes would twinkle were the exact same also. Everything was pointing towards what you’ve known to be true but then you weren’t so certain, now you haven’t been more sure in your entire life. ‘Do you want to know what my favourite memory of Billy was?’ You asked him but before you could continue, the hero took over unconsciously. ‘When we had that movie night with everyone and you fell asleep on my shoulder and instead of waking you up, I risked a crooked neck and aching back because you looked so peaceful sleeping on my shoulder.’

‘Ah ha!’ Your exclamation took the hero aback as he then realised the error that had occurred as his eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh shit.’ He hissed under his breath. ‘Oh shit is right,’ you stated as you smacked Billy on his shoulder, ‘you fucking frightened me to death, you bastard.’ You stepped back from him with a victorious gleam in your eyes, ‘I knew it all felt too convenient, I knew it did! It was staring me dead in the eyes the entire time and god does it feel good to be right.’

‘And why’s that?’ Billy asked, arms crossed over his chest, brow raised.

‘It rests my mind assured that you aren’t hurt or worse.’you told him softly, noting the way he softened at your words, ‘and as nice of a surprise as this,’ you gestured to his hero form with a hand, ‘I would like it best if my Billy came back to me so I can enjoy this evening a lot more.’ Billy’s eyes widened as he was quick to agree to your request by stepping away from you a distance and yelling out, ‘Shazam!’ As another stray lightning bolt came out of nowhere and as soon as it arrived, it vanished, leaving the Billy you knew in the hero’s place, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

‘Is it safe to ask if you’d want to go on a date sometime?’ He asked you and without giving much thought, you crossed over towards him and pulling him into your arms, caging him there before pulling away just enough so that your faces were a short distance apart. ‘Of course you silly boy,’ you chuckled, ‘I’d love nothing more.’ You finished by sealing the deal with a innocent kiss on the lips.

[amorhedera6]

((this turned out longer and more in depth then i meant for it to go, tw for abusive families, suicidal ideation, mentions of death, grief, and dismembering of a body))

headcannon that steph and max were best friends as kids. his dads an important man, one that solomon wanted on his side. so he pushed steph to spend time with his son. max was a super happy kid, very exciteable, loved musicals. they were on their own a lot, since neither of their parents really gave a shit, so they’d spend a lot of time at starlight theatre, watching all the different shows and things going on. max would tell her about how shitty his dad was and she’d do the same in return.

when they got to the 7th grade, steph got really depressed and pushed max and everyone else away. and max was little, they both didn’t really know what was going on. after that, they weren’t ever really close like that again. she got on the middle school football team and was deemed a prodigy, got popular, started getting all these friends that would do whatever he said. things with his dad got worse, and without steph to help him he started bullying to corral his emotions. steph knew what he was doing, but also knew it wasn’t serious. he pushed a few people around a little, that’s all. she didn’t think she had to be worried about her friend and now that he was super popular, she needed other people to spend her time with.

she also became cool, just because he said hi to her in the hallways, so she found herself in with his group. but she never truly felt she fit in, skirting along the edges. in high school, her friends all joined the cheer squad as she joined the smoke club and stop giving a shit about school. she never made sense in the “popular kid” crowd, but she assumed they kept her around bc she was the mayor’s daughter and pushing her out wouldn’t fly. it was actually max, making sure she got an invite to every party.

steph sort of floats through high school disassociatedly, in the my-home-life-is-terrible-and-isn’t-gonna-get-better-until-college-so-i-don’t-give-a-shit way, so she doesn’t see the escalation of max knowing no one will stop him doing anything, getting a total god complex, and ruling the school with violence, until pete. she’s probably the only person in hatchetfield high that doesn’t know, but it surprised her so much. bc max? the boy who would geek out over tech production of the musicals? the kid who let her be the captain when they were pirates bc he thought it was more fun to be the first mate? who’d stay up late with her when she had a bad day to read the books their moms were had promised to read to them? that boy is this horrible bully, and she didn’t even know it? it just doesn’t make sense.

she says she’ll go to the principal bc that’s the first instinct one has about this shit, but people started doing that in 8th grade, and all that happens is max has to go to an anti bullying thing every few months. she wants to talk him down, figure out what made him go this far, but she already knows it’s his dad. he wants to be the big impressive football star that his dad wants him to be, so maybe he’ll actually give a shit. he wants his dad to notice and tell him to stop, because then it would mean he was paying attention to what he did. daddy issues recognize daddy issues, and steph sees it in max, even if she did have prior knowledge. she goes along with grace’s plan bc she thinks it’ll be a good ego check to bring him down, but then. then.

she goes home and cries herself to sleep, feeling responsible for the death of her first real friend. she gets sick for weeks with flashes of her dismembering his body with the others, and while every one else’s seems to think the school’s getting better, all stephanie can think is “did no one else fucking care about him? even a little?” all his friends, the football guys, even her friends on the cheer squad, seem to not care about max’s disappearance as much as they care about his missing spot on the field. she starts to skip more until she decides to hang out with pete instead. he must be guilty too, be haunted by these images, but then he says “everything is objectively better.”

which she gets. people are free from his torment, they can do what they want, talk to who they want, etc. the hallways are brighter, people are happier, whatever. but max was still a person. steph wonders if the plan had gone right, maybe he would’ve come back down from his god complex and been more like she remembered him. if he would’ve done the spring musical like he’d always wanted to do but never felt like he could. if he would’ve hated her for it forever. she’d rather he hate her forever than her have helped kill him.

when they have to start talking about what happened, she tries to call him jägerman, tries to disconnect her friend from what happened, because he truly was drastically different, but it was hard. after richie and ruth, shut goes crazy and max is back, but he’s not really max. she feels like the worst friend in the world when she think “he looks like his dad”

because mr jägerman has always been a being full of rage and anger, not one to hide in his own home. she’d seen him scream and yell at max for being a regular little kid, not special at all. not the perfect son he wanted. max, this weird spector of max, is all rage, no heart. even when max was at his worst, he had some heart. he kept her in the “cool group” even though she made no sense there, let grace go unbullied bc he had a crush on her. this wasn’t max. this was a personification of his dying moments, the only thing the waylon place did was preserve, and maybe further his anger.

she wants to beg pete to kill her the way he begs her to kill him. she started all this, even if she denied it at beanies, it’s true, and she is probably the only one who could have helped max stay a regular guy instead of the egomaniac ruler of the school he became. but she can’t get the words off her tongue. so long she’s been thinking about how easier everyone’s lives would be if she just killed herself, and now she can’t even do this. he gets on his knees in the football field, she raises the gun from twenty yards away, and thinks about how many people this thing that isn’t really max has killed.

she forces herself to pull the trigger.

max stops the bullet.

grace fucks the ghost, and all is well. except she’s met gods who seem like they want to eat her, and now her father’s dead too. he was an asshole, he never really cared about her, but she sobs for hours n the big empty house on pinebrook, and wishes desperately that she had made pete do it.

she and pete check on each other, because he also lost two people important to him, and they hold each other up. get each other through it. help each other mourn. she meets his older brother, he helps her clean out her father’s office. they go to funerals together and hold hands, and don’t talk about it.

it takes her a little while to realize his homecoming offer is still up, since things are technically different now. she buys a dress and tells him only the color, and he wears a matching bow tie. it’s such a ridiculously peter thing to do, and it makes her laugh for the first time in a while. they laugh together a lot that night, and she helps him breathe through a panic attack in the bathroom when ruth’s favorite song comes on.

she tells him about the images she can’t get out of her head, maxs body in pieces, the blood everywhere, that she burned the clothes she wore that day bc she couldn’t get the smell of blood and bleach out no matter how often she washed it. he tells her that he’s having flashbacks like that too, and that he wishes he could talk to his therapist about it without being sent to jail or a mental hospital.

she talks to detective shapiro and gets her to send a letter to peters therapist that he’s not gonna be arrested so pete can talk his shit out. at least the non-ghost and demon stuff. the dismembering a guy stuff, though, he can talk about.

it gets her thinking about therapy and getting some. she’s 18, she’s got more money than is necessary from her father, and she thinks she’s going crazy. she looks into it and finds one, starts going once a week. he tells steph he things she has adhd, sends her to a psychiatrist who confirms the diagnosis. she gets some drugs to take, and she feels weird about taking them. she’s done drugs, but like the cool ones. she knows not to do drugs you’re unfamiliar with when your alone, and she feels like she’s a lot of that.

homecoming was fun, but she and pete still haven’t out any label in their relationship. they haven’t said i love you, even though everything that went down means the both know it. she wants to be his girlfriend, but she doesn’t want to ask. wants him to ask. she tells her therapist as much, and then complains that she’s paying him bc she’s got daddy issues and trauma, not to hear about her high school drama.

but miraculously, he does ask her to be his gf. and then they’re dating, and it’s great. she spends more time at his apartment with his brother, less time alone in the big empty house just thinking about max and her hand in who he became. he and her therapist together convince her to start taking the meds, and it helps with some of her problems, but not all of them.

she forces herself to keep living, even when she doesn’t want to, because that’s what max (her best friend, the kid who was too scared tontry out for the musical, the asshole, the boy she knew better than herself, the adult she apparently hardly knew, the spector she could only half recognize) would want from her.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

The tragedy of Spring - Chapter 5

Summary: Feyre has a dream and it sends her into a spiral.

Read on AO3 or keep reading below the cut.

Notes: This chapter contains explicit depictions of sex, if you’re uncomfortable with it you can skip the first half, it isn’t needed to understand the overall story. Thank you for reading!

“You miss me don’t you?”

His hands, calloused and rough, grab her waist, holding her in place as they snake their way down towards her hips, trailing down her closed legs. She feels his claws unsheathe to slightly trace her skin and she gasps when he rips her intricate starlight blue dress with one slash of them as if it was made out of cobwebs.

He hums in approval, watching as the ruined expensive fabric slips from her skin, making her body react to the sudden exposure, her pink nipples pebble, her skin rises in goosebumps and her chest heaves.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

He moves her knees towards her chest slowly, thighs still tightly pressed together, before she watches him easily peel her legs open for him, watches herself succumb to it, to her feral need, to his beastly but tender will.

His eyes of evergreen fix themselves on her blooming core, dripping and ready, and she bites her lip to hold a whimper at the way his mouth parts when he looks at her, hungry–starved even.

She yelps when he takes hold of her thighs and forcefully pulls her to the edge of the bed, closer to him, and with his claws still out, circles her bellybutton, dragging the beast-like nails down her tummy so softly she trembles, all the way down before stopping to apply slight pressure on her clit, claw softly flicking her, making her moan gutturally.

“You always liked this didn’t you?”

She can’t answer, too overwhelmed by what he is doing to even form a coherent sentence. She did, she liked it so much and she hadn’t even realized just how much she missed it, how much she had repressed herself from even entertaining it. But the extreme slickness of her core isn’t lying, and he can see it, smell it in the air. He smiles, the sharp points of his canines glinting in the moonlight, making him look monstrously beautiful.

Without effort, he frees himself from his trousers, palms her wetness with one hand and after coating himself with it, he sinks himself inside of her, easily and swiftly. They both moan in surprise at the feel of the stretch, her body accommodating him as if it was made to do it, as if it had been waiting too long to receive him. She stares as the muscles on his abdomen flex involuntarily, as his eyes roll up his head ever so slightly.

He places his broad hand on her lower belly, fingers sprayed, thumb circling her point of pleasure as he removes himself completely, just to sink himself inside harshly again, he applies pressure on her tummy as he repeats the motion, making his thrust incredibly deep and rough and intense. She can’t help but cry out as the pleasure overtakes her.

“Yeah?” He asks, finding her eyes again as he removes himself completely, pauses, and sinks again powerfully.

“Yes” She whimpers.

“Say it” He repeats the motion, slowly pulling out and crashing fast, deep, against the pressure of his palm, his thumb drawing lazy circles on her, making her lightheaded, her eyes watering as she nods frantically.

“I missed this-fuck!” She cries as he pounds into her again. “I miss you”

He groans, head falling back slightly as he speeds up his motions gradually, his touch and thrusts no longer pointed movements but suddenly an almost frantic rubbing and pounding. One hand presses firmly on her tummy, making her scream as he can probably feel himself hitting her walls inside of her, the other takes hold of her thigh as he uses it for leverage on his wild, unrelenting pace. Her hands look for something to hold, talons also unsheathing from her fingers as she digs them into the mattress like a hawk.

“Feyre, Feyre, Feyre-” He chants with a sharp, painful, erotic smile, staring at her, looking into her eyes, at the mess of the female beneath him, as he continues his unwavering pounding. His eyes look at her in disbelief, at the place they’re connecting, he drops his head backwards and groans at the view of them together. “Fuck!” His eyes find her again and lock into hers as he goes even deeper, even faster. All she can do is scream. “How does it feel to have me in the palm of your hands, at your service, forever?”

He raises the leg he was grabbing towards his chest, resting it on his shoulder and kissing her calves as he keeps pounding and she cannot hold her moans, she’s crying out for him to not stop. He looks so glorious and powerful and he is so deep she can’t form any coherent thought.

“I would’ve gladly gone to my death” He groans as his pace doesn’t slow down, it picks up with unnatural speed, pure power emanating from him, glowing on his sweat-coated skin. “For you to be happy”

“Tamlin-” She moans, and he goes harder, shifting slightly to reach a place only he knows how to reach, only he knows how to please. She tears up at the mind-blowing sensation, the one she had known once but had forgotten, like scenting an old perfume that takes you back to something wonderful. Her claws leave the mattress to scratch his flexing abs. He curses loudly.

“I would kill, I would lie and fight and die for you, just like you did” His voice strains as he pounds relentlessly, the sounds of their bodies meeting with force and exploding passion. “I would do it again, and again, and again” He points each word with almost painful thrusts. “Remember” He moans.

It is too much. She gasps for air as she reaches a peak of pleasure she couldn’t believe exists. “Fuck!” She convulses, her legs clamping together, her back rising from the mattress as she comes, her skin glows, her claws bury themselves inside the layers of the expensive mattress, the fire from the hearth roars. Her eyes remain fixed on him as she feels her legs and fingers tingle, listening to a song that only he knows how to play reverberating through her soul and body, colors invading her minds eye as she screams for him.

With uncoordinated thrusts he groans, the windows of the room slam open with the wind and his whole body contracts, power bursting and spilling inside of her, hands digging themselves on her thighs, golden hair glowing like sunshine on a meadow as it cascades down his body and he chants her name, again and again as if offering a prayer, still coming, still spilling himself inside of her.

She’s panting, speechless as she stares at him with teary eyes, his face finally rising from his bliss to look at her.

“Tamlin-“

“Remember” He whispers.

She exhales harshly, her mind still behind. “What-“

“Remember, Feyre” He repeats with a serious face. She scrunches her eyebrows, coming from her high, trying to understand.

“What do you mean?” She asks and he suddenly pulls her up, taking hold of her shoulders firmly.

“Under The Mountain” He says suddenly and she flinches. “Remember”

The edges of his perfect face start to darken, the green of his eyes becomes murky as she doesn’t feel him next to her anymore. She tries to claw herself towards him but he slips through her fingers.

“No-”

“Remember”

Remember.

Feyre gasped as she jumped upright, sweat coating her whole body, nightgown sticking to her skin as she abruptly moved the covers of her empty bed, as if burned by them, to stand up and get some air, pulling at her soaked garment and peeling it off her with a huff.

She had been dreaming.

About him… about that. Flashes of the dream possessed her as she tried to manage her still heavy breathing. She could smell her own arousal thick inside her lonely room, swiftly she strolled her way towards the bathroom, turning on the faucet of the tub, letting cold water fill it before jumping inside with a hiss. She gritted her teeth until her body got used to the cold, until the heat of her skin, the fire inside her veins, calmed down and she could finally breathe again.

What in the godly realms was that?

She splashed cold water onto her face as she grunted. The dreams she had previously had about Tamlin were very scarce and usually faint and murky, she had never dreamed about him in such a vivid and… carnal way. She placed her hand on her lower belly, she could still feel him there, puncturing her, reaching places she had forgotten about, things he used to do to her that she had completely erased from her memory… Her face heated up. She groaned again.

She was really losing it.

Using her Winter powers, she made the water on the tub almost freeze over before she hissed at the cold. She needed the numbness of it if she wanted to keep a level head.

Ever since her unexpected conversation with Tamlin in the High Lord’s summit she had felt different. Her mind sharper, her senses more acute, her emotions a bit more leveled. She didn’t know what exactly had changed, she could just feel it.

Rhysand could feel it too. She knew he was guarding her a lot more closely, and he hadn’t really tried to mask it either. When Cassian and Mor had asked about the extra guards around her perimeter he had only said he wanted his mate and heir safe, which ended any further questioning. Feyre had simply nodded when Cassian’s eyes had landed on her, gaining a slightly puzzled smile from him in return.

Her friends had seen her allow Rhysand more constrictive methods of “protection” in the past anyway, like the invisible second-skin ward that had separated herself from the world for months when she was pregnant. This was nothing unusual, and she would’ve probably not cared to ask herself any questions before, but now she could clearly see it. He didn’t quite trust her anymore, or at least, he knew that some of his sway on her did not land as once had, even if she didn’t put up a fight, even if she didn’t complain. Something had fundamentally changed between them and he knew it.

She should be more concerned, she thought, but even if she knew she had to control her impulses with him, she reminded herself that he wouldn’t hurt her outright, he was her mate after all, and she was the mother of his only child.

Feyre felt the cold water soothe her nerves slowly, the tension in her core subsiding, the memory of that vivid sex puzzling her. She had very rarely thought about what sex with Tamlin used to be like. She found it odd that in all these years she had never once thought about the way it used to feel, how he seemed to know every crevice of pleasure in her. She could remember now, though, just what a thorough lover Tamlin was, how much attention he paid to her reactions and sensations, how animalistic and wild it used to be. Goosebumps raised on her skin with the memory. Everything in that dream had been summoned by their many nights together, images and sensations that now seemed to be springing from their hiding beneath dry leaves of shame in her withered mind.

Everything had happened, except for the things he was saying to her. Tamlin used to be a bit more talkative in the throes of passion than in normal situations, so it wasn’t too odd. In the dream, though, he told her he would do anything for her, again and again. Her throat closed a bit at that thought. It might’ve been just a dream but wasn’t it also the truth?

She exhaled harshly, what was she thinking? Tamlin had undoubtedly hurt her and he had paid and was probably still paying for it. She knew this, just like she knew she also hurt him, purposefully and in an effort to cause him pain. She had already asked for his forgiveness so why couldn’t she move on?

“All I ever wanted was for you to live”

He had said that, and damn her, she believed him now. She understood now just how everything he had done, good and bad, had been for that purpose alone. For her to keep breathing, to see another rising sun. She understood it, even if she didn’t like it. The truth was she hated it, because it made her efforts to get revenge from him seem so… cruel.

She had long regretted everything she had done to his Court, the shame of not even thinking about how her vendetta might hurt innocents, it was debilitating on its own. But now she felt like the things she had done to purposefully hurt him were… childish. Even if he did deserve it, she didn’t feel better because of it. Feyre huffed a breath and rubbed her eyes.

Years had passed and only now she was really giving herself way to process everything. She felt stupid. She stared at the marble ceiling of her bathroom, the constellation designs that were engraved in it were so different from those in the Hewn City. She remembered then Tamlin mentioning Under The Mountain in her dream– he had seemed so adamant all of a sudden, he had wanted her to remember Under The Mountain, why?

She quietly played with little water dolphins she animated with her Summer magic, trying to occupy her hands so that they didn’t start shaking. Thinking about Under The Mountain still made her skin crawl, her heart race a bit, even after all these years. Tamlin mentioning it in her dream was probably just an unhinged addition to it right before she was going to wake up.

Still, why did it feel like something else? Something she couldn’t pinpoint? Her head throbbed.

Feyre got out of the tub, dried and then slipped a new, clean nightgown on, dragged herself under the covers again and tried to sleep, but sleep did not find her. The dream haunted her, a low whisper in her mind telling her to not brush it off as just some silly thing. She tossed and turned all night until the soft glow of dawn finally greeted her.

She took care of Nyx and she still couldn’t shake that feeling away, rationalize it. She ate with Mor and Amren and her thoughts could not help but drift off.

She took a walk along the Sidra (with the new guards trying to be as inconspicuous as possible) and she could not help but compare it to her time in Spring. Tamlin had done something similiar then, getting sentries to guard her because she was still being hunted by Hybern’s cronies. She found it funny how now she also had to endure guarding, but to keep herself in check. Ironic.

“Remember” Dream Tamlin had told her. The words stuck with her for weeks until she finally had enough. She impulsively wrote to her sister Elain, who was currently exploring Dawn’s tropical forests with her recently accepted mate, a very innocent note.

“Hey, would you give me a visit when you get back from Dawn? I miss you”

She sent the magical note, fully aware even those messages somehow were also controlled by Rhys one way or another, and after a few minutes received a response.

“Of course! We can be in Velaris by next week. I miss you, and Nyx.”

And so, the next week, Feyre was welcoming her older sister and her mate, Feyre’s first friend, into her home in the River House. Rhysand was luckily gone for the week, tending to some revolt happening in the Court of Nightmares that did not surprise her as much as it once would have.

Elain was holding onto Lucien’s arm with a very gentle grip, and Lucien’s eyes still followed her every movement with adoration. Feyre had grown to enjoy watching them, the two people she had never thought to match but that seeing it now made so much sense. Even while having tea Elain could not keep her hands away from him and he couldn’t keep his gaze from fixing on her. He looked at her like she was his blessing, like nothing could come before her ever, and Feyre could not help but feel jealous of it, for the first time in her life.

She used to believe she had caught it, had finally earned herself the love she was never given without a price. Had finally been someone’s number one priority… and now it was gone, like the wind had taken it, like ink had stained it irreparably.

Elain was telling her about some huge flower that only blooms once every fifty years in the Dawn Court, Lucien’s complete attention to her retelling even though he had been there with her the whole time, when she noticed Feyre’s watery eyes and her whole face changed.

“Feyre, sweetie, what’s wrong?” Her sister started and Lucien’s eyes finally landed on Feyre with a concerned look. She felt stupid, dragging her hands across her cheeks and wiping the tears forcefully, as if they’d betrayed her.

“Nothing, nothing-“ She forced a smile. “I just love seeing you both like this… I’m still not used to seeing you together, I’m so very happy for you” She lied, bringing her tea towards her lips trying to drown the knot in the back of her throat.

Elain wasn’t convinced and neither was Lucien. They both had always seen her too well, it was annoying.

“If you need to talk-“

“I don’t need anything” She said too quickly, earning her a soft scowl from Lucien.

Elain simply stared at her unblinking, as if seeing through her, inside of her. Feyre just held her stare unflinchingly. Elain’s eyes were sometimes too intense to bear, even Amren got a bit uncomfortable by it from time to time, but Feyre held still.

Lucien noticed the exchange and softly put his hand on his mate, immediately breaking her focus.

“I will leave you both to talk. I’ll wait for you in the apartment” He said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles once. Elain held his loving gaze and gave him a nod before he simply vanished. Then, her older sister, who had recently started behaving like she was much older than her, stood up only to sit next to her in the small seatee.

“Will you tell me now what’s wrong?” She asked, only kindness in her brown eyes. “Why did you summon me, really?”

Feyre held her eyes for a second before she dropped it and shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, everything is fine”

“Is it Rhys?” Elain asked her. Feyre snapped her eyes to meet hers again.

She didn’t say anything. Elain softly nodded.

“Does he treat you right?” She asked that damn question again. The question she hated answering.

“Yes” She said and it was true, but at the same time… “I-“ She had never opened up about any of her issues with her mate with anyone. She felt dumb if she did, after all the lengths she had gone to portray their relationship as something of dreams, talking about this with anyone felt stupid, irrational, ungrateful. But she simply couldn’t bear it any longer.

With her sister’s big knowing eyes on her, watching her, not buying any of her bullshit, everything came down upon her. The lying, the dodging of accountability from Rhys, the justifications that now seemed to spring up more questions than answers, the times she had had to bend a knee to maintain peace in their relationship, the numerous times he had gone and mistreated her own sisters, the betrayal of not giving her agency on her own pregnancy, choosing another before her without consulting her, and the horrible admission that he was aware of all of it. It all came crushing down on her as if the immaculate ceiling of her expensive house had fallen in crumbles to squash her.

She sobbed and Elain held her hand tightly, so tightly, as Feyre told her everything. Between ugly sobs she told her about Under The Mountain, things that she had never told anyone before, the dancing, the humiliation, the moments she had to endure being painted on her intimate parts by Rhys’ orders, the things she had pushed to the blackest parts of her mind, things that didn’t make any sense now. She told her about everything he had told her, about how the secrets he kept were the biggest monsters she had ever known. And after she was done telling her about how she felt when she learned she would have died and Rhys would have let her go without at least giving her a chance to sort her life, as if she was nothing more than a means to an end for him, about how she couldn’t believe the male she had loved unconditionally had done that to her, she told her about her dream with Tamlin.

And Elain simply listened, Feyre told her everything about her meetings with him, about how they both had destroyed each other, about how she did it willingly, how awful she felt, how miserable he was, how much she hated him for having hurt her, having ruined them, how much she hated herself for understanding him, and also for the things she had done to him.

After a final moment of silence, Elain handed her a glass of water, and as she drank, her older sister, much wiser than she had expected her to be, asked: “What do you need me to see?”

And then Feyre finally uttered the words she had been carrying those past two weeks in the most shameful corners of her chest.

“I need to know what else happened” She said, barely audibly. “What else I agreed to Under The Mountain”

[sehtoast]

Part of His Plan (Homelander x OC Smut)

18+ | vaginal sex, semi-public sex, getting caught, spidersona oc | Fic Directory

This was all part of his plan.  His glorious revenge.

See, Starlight crossed a line.  A very, very obvious line that should have never been a thought in her idiot fucking head.  The little goody two shoes decided to try to recruit Benjamin to her cause.

Homelander was no fool, and he knows damn well she’s been conspiring against him.  Sure he lacked definite proof until now, but he needed to make her realize just how fucking stupid she is for even thinking Ben would ever turn on him.

What a sight it’d be for her to stumble upon them like this.

“Oh– fuck, fuck!”  Ben cries out, legs pressed to his chest, ass hanging off the meeting room table as Homelander drives his cock in and out of that sweet, warm pussy.  He’s been eaten to completion several times, and now Homelander meant to drive him to insanity.  

Benjamin has no idea that Starlight thinks there’s a team meeting in five minutes.  He’s angled so that he won’t see her enter– hear her, maybe– but he won’t know.  Homelander had the courtesy to fuck him so that he’d be facing away from the door.  She wouldn’t be lucky enough to see his fat cock driving into that sopping wet cunt, because that sight was just for him.

“Who do you belong to,”  he grits, palms pressed to either side of Ben’s face, directing his gaze.  He leans closer, practically pressing their chests together.

Homelander can hear the heels of her boots clicking down the hallway.  She’s just about here.

“Y-You!”  Ben mewls. 

Homelander gives an extra sharp snap of his hips, lips curling into a devious grin.  He picks up the pace, fucks harder to ensure the wet claps of skin would be wholly unmistakable.  He wants her to hear it just as much as she sees it.

He hears her palm press to the scanner next to the door.

“Say it!  Who do you belong to!?’  He roars, eyes raising, staring right at her as soon as the doors cracked open.

“I’m– Fuck, fuck, I’m yours!  Yours!”  Ben whines, body twitching, hands wrapping around John’s wrists.  His eyes are rolling back too much to notice Homelander’s fixed gaze, and he misses the hiss of the doors between sounds of their skin colliding.  

Fucking perfect.

“I– Johnny, ah!”

“Attaboy,” Homelander praises him.  The horror written on Starlight’s face is enough to turn his smirk into a wide toothy grin.  For good measure, he flashes his eyes– a burning crimson to remind her that he can and will fucking kill her for what she tried to do.  Giddiness rises in his chest as she turns and scurries away, wide eyed and surely mortified to her core. 

The door seals behind her.

“Now come on my fucking cock,” Homelander demands, leaning back to take Ben’s clit between his thumb and forefinger, stroking it like a little cock.  “Milk me good, bug boy.” 

Homelander himself is already on the fucking brink after what happened.  Knowing he’s put his foot down in such a way goes straight to his cock and ego, and he’s so–

Ben arches, legs trembling and body spasming, pussy clenching so hard he sees stars.  It rips Homelander’s release instantly, halting his thrusts as he buries himself deep, cock spurting and marking his little spider from the inside out.

“Mine– fuck– all fucking mine!” John grits, grinding deep into the wetness.  

He’ll make sure the whole world knows it.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 24

Part 25/26 | Ao3

[Friends, we are coming to the end. This chapter and the epilogue left! I cannot thank you enough for coming on this journey with me. I will miss your comments, as well as Eris and Tilly (who I've grown very fond of), so much! Thank you for reading and being so kind and lovely.]

Eris

The sound of wailing brought them all to attention, as the end of battle always did. This, however…this was the most unearthly sound that Eris had ever heard. It rushed over the bloodied land, filling every crevice, pained enough to cut ribbons straight through the chest of the strongest warrior.

He vaguely felt Tilly gripping his hand, looking down to see her knuckles bone white against his own as her other hand reached up to cover her mouth. The adrenaline of the battle was still rushing through his veins, but the exhaustion was threatening to take over.

“Oh, no. Eris. It’s Penny.” Eris registered, then, what had happened. Distantly, he could see the crater blown into the ground, Tamlin’s lifeless body there, and Penny draped over it, howling in the way that only a broken mating bond could produce. The thought alone made him physically sick, and he grasped at Tilly more tightly. Numbly, they walked towards them, more people gathering around the horrid scene as Penny’s soul-rending cries filled the air.

Eris could hear Tilly start to cry too as they watched Penny begin to glow, the power choosing her to take over in her dead mate’s stead–a punishment that Eris couldn’t fathom. Him living without Tilly was unimaginable, unthinkable. The idea fluttered through his mind at the same time it must have occurred to Feyre, because her voice entered their minds then.

For what he gave, we will return the favor.

All of the High Lords and Ladies stepped forward, more than ready to provide the light necessary to bring him back, to pay him back for his sacrifice. A drop of light came from each of them, pushed through Penny into Tamlin’s still chest. A collective silence covered the crowd gathered to bear witness as they all held their breath. And then…nothing.

It hadn’t worked.

Eris felt like he was living underwater–everything felt numbed and far away. He was aware of Penny shifting wildly, people were talking around him. Azriel disappeared with Penny–he knew he’d seen that. Tilly’s hand was shaking in his.

This was more than just post-battle lucidity.

With that awareness, the pain began to hit him.

Oh. Shock. I’m in shock.

He pressed his hand to his side, holding it up in front of him covered in a fresh, wet bloom of scarlet blood. He heard Tilly gasp beside him, spinning around to stand in front of him and hold his arms. She was saying something, her pretty pink lips moving, moving, moving, her eyes wide and beautiful.

But Eris was closing his.

The battle had made him so very tired, and it was time to sleep.

+++

Eris woke to a dark room, the voices stirring around him were coming from the walls.

The walls? That didn’t seem right.

He was in a bed, of that he was certain, and with a small shift of his weight, he could feel the movement of bandages against his waist. They hurt, but not horribly.

How long had he been out?

He tried to blink his eyes and see better through the dark room, but it was clearly night time–the curtains weren’t pulled shut, and he could see the stars outside. It was then that he realized the bed sunk beside him on his other side. He whipped his head around and was so relieved to find a sleeping Tilly there that he could have cried. She was curled up tightly, in clothes a bit too large and loose for her frame, her knees pulled up and her hand coiled beneath her cheek. Her hair had been let loose and tousled by restless sleep, scattered over the pillow, just barely visible in the starlight.

As though even in sleep she could feel his watchful eyes, hers flitted open, finding his in the dark.

“You’re okay. We’re in Spring.” Her voice was barely a whisper through the night, her hand reaching out to grab his. “You nearly bled out. Why didn’t you say something, you foolish, stupid male?” He couldn’t see the tears, but he could hear them in her voice, smell them in the air.

“I–” He croaked, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I didn’t realize. I thought it was just adrenaline.”

“You scared me so much. Watching Tamlin die, then I realized how pale you were right before you went down. I thought we’d lost you, too. Even my healing couldn’t fix it all the way it was so bad, Eris.” He could hear her crying in earnest now.

“Come here, love.” She scooted across the bed to him, setting her head gently on his chest, and he let the comforting smell of her wash over him. “I’m alright. I’m sorry I scared you. Is everyone…?”

She was quiet, and alarm bells began to ring in his head. “Cormac was injured very badly. He is downstairs now, recovering. He should be fine, but he did lose his arm. Callum hasn’t left his bedside, as you might well imagine.” Eris sighed.

“You sound tired. How long has it been since you slept?”

“A day or two. You’ve been out for a few days, as well–all the magic you used and then the rest working to heal you knocked you entirely out, plus the tonics for the pain. They brought us here right after, and allowed anyone injured to stay in Spring. Once I knew you were going to be okay, I used the portals to bring home the Autumn armies and anyone else who needed injured transport. I’ve been mostly helping with the wounded, and healing you day by day. Killian and Bray are back in Autumn keeping things as they should be while you and Cormac recover here.”

“And Penny?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“She hasn’t woken up. Or rather, she has, but she demanded someone knock her back out. They’re all taking turns watching over her, especially Rhysand. He feels the worst about it–he brought Tamlin back to help.” Eris nodded, emotions strangely threatening to well up in his throat.

“Can you stay with me? I want to hold you.” Wordlessly, Tilly rolled over, her back to his chest as they so often slept, his arm winding around her waist to rest on her stomach. A small ripple and a resounding kick met his hand, and he let that emotion in his throat bloom into full tears. The war was over, they had won, and now, even amongst the devastation, he could have the life he had once felt to be so unobtainable, one where he was a husband, a mate, a partner, and they had their miracle child to show for it.

Without another thought, Eris breathed deeply and let himself slip back into sleep.

Tilly

Waking up next to Eris was a blessing that Tilly would never take for granted again for as long as she lived. She blinked blearily against the morning light, his warm body pressed against her back, his hand never having left her stomach in the night. She could tell both through the bond and through his breathing that he hadn’t quite awoken yet, so she stayed still, closing her eyes again and trying to hold on to the moment for as long as she could.

Every time she thought of those beautiful eyes slipping shut as he collapsed into her arms on the battlefield, her heart threatened to shudder to a stop. The fear and panic felt as fresh and raw as though it had just happened. She’d never felt anything as terrible as the bond fading in and out the way theirs had, and she suddenly understood the wailing and shrieking that had come from Penny as she laid herself over her dead mate’s body, begging him to come back. She wouldn’t wish that kind of loss on anyone, not even an enemy.

Penny.

A horrid sadness crushed the breath out of her.

How would she ever recover from this?

The loss of her mate, her husband, and the new mantle of High Lady thrust upon her in the moment of her deepest grief. Tilly had experienced firsthand with her father what the loss of a mate could do to a person. She hoped only that there was something she might be able to do to help. Perhaps she could support her somehow, or send assistance on behalf of Autumn. No one should have to endure it alone.

Eris began to stir behind her, his fingers tracing across her stomach as their little fireling noted the movements, grazing a hand across in response as Eris chuckled, his voice low and thick with sleep.

“I’ll never take waking up next to you for granted again.” She rolled to face him.

“Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing.” They could hear voices from downstairs, loud and boisterous, and figured they should probably get dressed and going. Tilly planned to assist with healing any remaining injured, then they hoped to head back to Autumn today.

“Are you feeling better?” She asked, as Eris twisted side to side after rising up to stand.

“It’s tender, but much should be fine.” He came across the room to kiss her, pulling a shirt over his head that had been left out for him.

“Good. Listen, I was thinking, as neighbors, we should do something to be here for Penny.” She felt his spike of grief and anxiety down the bond. Clearly she wasn’t the only one reeling from the idea of losing one’s mate. He nodded his agreement, and they set off hand in hand down the hall and to the main foyer, following the loud sounds of the people gathered.

Tilly thought it odd to sound so celebratory in the wake of such tragedy, especially in Penny’s home, but perhaps it was because she was so deeply asleep they didn’t think it would disturb her. Through the doors, they could hear distinct voices.

“Lucien, your brother and his mate are insane. I need them to visit more. They were both on fire? And she dropped from the literal air? And your brother is a dragon?” Tilly laughed to herself as they walked, nudging Eris carefully in the ribs.

“Is your brother okay?” Gwyn asked as they cleared the doors.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Eris mumbled, coming into the doorway with Tilly holding him up. But he and Tilly both pulled up short to see Penny and Tamlin–very obviously still living–in the room. The silence seemed to go on and on as Tilly and Eris beheld Tamlin, back from the dead, and everyone else around them acting entirely normal.

What in the Cauldron’s name had happened while they slept?

Tilly spoke up. “So, Tamlin’s back. Clearly.” And Penny shrugged shyly, holding her husband's hand tightly in her own. Everyone shared a laugh again, filling them in on what they’d missed in the last few hours. Penny, still holding the powers of the Death God, and perhaps with a bit of a mystical assist from some higher powers, had gone to retrieve her mate from whatever beyond waited for them. And clearly, it had worked, because there Tamlin stood in the flesh, looking as alive as ever.

Tilly leaned in to whisper. “Listen, if I’d known this was an option, for the record…” Eris laughed, and Tilly was struck thinking it may have been the most wonderful sound she’d ever heard. She’d hated how close she’d come to losing it.

Suddenly, Feyre turned to Lucien excitedly. “You gotta go, Fox Boy! It’s time!” Elain’s baby was on the way–another cousin to their child, it occurred to Tilly.

Lucien stumbled over himself to winnow out clumsily, Eris whispering into Tilly’s ear “I’ve never understood my brother more.” She knew it was only a matter of time before that would be them too, and the thought filled her with warmth and joy.

Finally, after catching up for a bit and asking after Cormac–apparently already having gone back to Autumn–, people began to depart. She and Eris walked outside, nothing to carry with them except the clothes on their backs.

“I’m ready to be home. Winnow or portal?” They were interrupted by Gwyn running up, Azriel trailing behind.

“Wait a moment!” She ran up beside them. “I assume you both already know, but I was able to have a conversation with your brother–my grandfather.” The news was not a surprise, of course, but it was still so strange to hear aloud. They nodded in confirmation, though. “Bray has invited me to come stay in Autumn for visits, or for good, to help get to know my family–perhaps to help see if I have any Autumn powers, too. I’m not quite ready for a move, but I would very much like to visit and get to know you all. And, I was wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, would Azriel be able to join me?”

Tilly had already spoken to Gwyn about it, and she’d brought it up to Eris, as well. He’d rolled his eyes at the mention of the Shadowsinger, but had mutually agreed it would be good to have Gwyn spend time in Autumn. Tilly knew, though, that Gwyn was still young; she’d need reassurance on this front, and she could tell she was summoning bravery to have this conversation without being sure of the outcome. Before she could respond, however, Eris marched up to Azriel.

Azriel began to rear up, preparing for an onslaught or attack, but Eris simply stopped in front of him and held out his hand.

“Truce?” Eris spoke with a smirk on his face. Azriel’s jaw dropped, but Tilly just smiled at him, then Gwyn. After gathering himself, Azriel cleared his throat, reaching his own hand out to grasp Eris’.

“Truce.”

“We’d love to host you both in Autumn–any time, and for as long as you’d be inclined to stay.” Azriel simply gave a gruff nod, but his eyes were filled with gratitude and perhaps a bit of recognition and understanding. Tilly wondered if this was perhaps the first time that Azriel had really seen behind that mask of her mate’s–truly seen what he’d needed to do and be all those years under Beron, and then caught a glimpse of who he really was underneath.

Tilly looked forward to centuries more of people seeing him as she did as they winnowed back home in each other’s arms.

Eris

Eris ran through the halls, urgently trying to reach someone to get the message out in time. Things had happened so quickly that they’d barely had time to prepare. The moon was high in the sky, the only light coming from the stars and the few faelights dotting the hallways as Eris sprinted, nearly slamming into the opposite wall as he rounded a sharp corner.

Why had he re-instituted the wards?

It would have been so convenient to winnow now when every moment counted. Finally, he reached the rooms he was looking for, bursting through the doors to find Willa already up.

“I had a feeling, High Lord.” She smiled at him, continuing to pack a bag she was already working on. He must look like a disaster, still half asleep, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, flushed and panting. “I am just about finished getting ready here, and then I’ll be along to your rooms. I’ve already called for the midwives. Go on back to be with her.”

And so Eris ran again, back down the darkened halls, as he had so many times before. Always running away from something dark and horrible behind him, but this time, he ran towards something better. He wasn’t running from the darkness anymore–he was running towards the light–to his Tilly and their child.

As he dashed through the doors to their rooms, he found Tilly in front of the fire, hands on the mantle and hips swaying gently, surrounded by the hounds, all in various states of unrest. Cinder had been absolutely beside himself the last two days–they should have known it was almost time. He was getting antsy now even when Eris touched Tilly.

Her head popped up and turned to him as he closed the door behind him, rushing over to her as she laced her arms around his neck, continuing to sway, breathing out deeply through her nose.

“How are they now, love?”

“Painful.” She gritted out between clenched teeth. “About three minutes apart, lasting almost a minute apiece.” She grunted once more as he held her.

"Willa is on her way; she was already up and ready.”

“And your mother?”

“I had the parchment already written, I just need to send it to Day. I wasn’t sure if you wanted her here until after.” Tilly nodded, her chest expanding as if the pressure had finally eased off and lifting her face to look at him.

“Let’s see how the next hour goes.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’re gonna be parents, Eris.” Her eyes lit up when she looked at him, and his heart could have taken flight right then and there. He’d just about thrown up when he’d felt Tilly shoot up next to him in bed with a gasp earlier. She leapt out of bed with a speed he’d been honestly impressed by, given the state of things. She stood next to their bed, looking at him with wild, wide eyes as her water broke, and then looked at him with such panic that he’d nearly broken his own legs trying to get out of the sheets and pull on clothes to go get help. She’d calmed considerably since then, but Eris still felt like his heart was about to beat its way out of his chest.

“Come love, sit on the couch and let me get you some food and tea.” She shook her head.

“Food and tea sound wonderful, but I’ll go mad if I sit. I’m going to walk a bit until Willa arrives.” Eris nodded and went to make himself useful. They’d already decided the open room within their suite would serve as the birthing room, and they’d moved in a big bed last month. They’d made sure everything was set to go the week before, but Eris went to check again while the tea was steeping, fluffing all the pillows one more time and turning down the soft blankets that they’d chosen. He turned the fae lights down low, and he made sure there was a great pitcher of water and glasses at the bedside. He filled a few more pitchers and set them against the wall, just in case.

He hated how useless he felt, so the very least he could do was make sure everything else was perfect. Another low groan from the main room brought him flying back out with tea and a tray of pastries and cheeses and meats for Tilly. She was leaned over the back of the couch, trying to keep swaying but he could see her fists clenched deep in the cushions of the couch. He came behind her, setting the tray on the table, and began to push his thumbs into her tailbone in deep circles just as Willa had shown them. Tilly grunted in relief as he did, slouching a bit lower into the cushions.

“You’re doing so well, darling. What was the count this time?”

“Two minutes.” She groaned out, and the door opened behind him.

“How are we doing, High Lady?” Tilly just grunted into the cushions as Eris answered.

“Two to three minutes apart, about a minute in duration.”

“My goodness, an overachiever, are we?” Willa set her bags down and came over. “Apologies, High Lord. I need to check her, if you wouldn’t mind helping me to get her settled on the couch?” Eris fought against every protective instinct that reared within him to snarl at her for coming near his mate as she prepared to birth their child, but the sparkle in Willa’s eye showed she knew that. She was very patient and gracious with him. After he helped ease her down and get comfortable, he busied himself with the tea while Willa checked Tilly, only half panicking when she let them know Tilly was progressing extremely quickly for her first time, and that they were very close.

Tilly wanted to continue pacing and trying to eat, and Willa encouraged her, allowing Eris to trail around behind her, rubbing her hips and back and soothing her with words of encouragement while Willa set up the bedroom with her supplies. Then, Tilly was finally ready to move to the bed, her contractions so close she could no longer easily stand through them. She sent Eris off to get the parchment to his mother, requesting she come when she could, and without waiting for a reply he ran back to be by her side. Every instinct of his roared at him to stay with her, protect her, keep her and the baby safe. He was going to be a nightmare to be around.

Alanna arrived a few hours later, bursting into the room with a bustle of noise as she had to all but force the door shut on the brothers, all trying to check in to see how it was going as she forcibly insisted they all stay out until they’re told otherwise. Alanna found them in the bed, Eris behind Tilly and Tilly laid back on his chest, covered in sweat and deep in the throes of pushing. There were a few small scorch marks on the bedding around them, but they’d been prepared with multiple pitchers of water. Eris knew he absolutely had a few broken fingers that kept fruitlessly trying to heal, but he’d endure whatever pain he needed to to ensure things went well. There would be time to fix everything else later.

Alanna waved to them, quietly setting her stuff down and sending a smile to Willa, and then busying herself with helping where she could. Moments later, a great scream from Tilly was followed by the smallest of screams from their baby, wiped down and immediately placed on Tilly's chest. Eris pulled Tilly's hair back off her forehead, both of them crying as he told her how much he loved her, loved them. He told her how wonderful she’d done, how proud he was of her, but his whole entire being had focused on the tiny babe in her arms. His son.

He sobbed as his mother came and brushed his own hair out of his eyes, the touch cracking him wide open as he looked into her adoring eyes, centuries of love that had been forcibly pushed down coming to the surface.

“Hello, my sweet boy. You’ve got your own sweet boy now. I know he’ll make you just as proud as you’ve made me.” Eris nodded, tears spilling openly down his face, overwhelmed in the best possible way and surrounded by the people he loved most in the world.

Eris remembered how hesitant he’d been to let that tiny spark of hope flare in his chest the day he’d met Tilly, how violently he’d forced it down and away, afraid to even dream of such a foolish thing. And now, here he was, his arms full of life and love, the hope an eternal, blaring fire in his chest as Tilly laid her head back on him, their son gently squirming as he took in the world for the first time with wide, curious eyes.

+++

The sun still hadn’t risen, but Eris stood at the windows gently swaying with the baby wrapped tightly in a warm blanket, snug in his arms and cooing quietly.

“Shhh, Kieran. It’s time we let your mother sleep. She did a lot of work today, and she deserves all the rest she can get.” He turned back to look at Tilly, curled up on the bed, her beautiful halo of hair brushed out on the pillow behind her, her face peaceful in sleep. He knew she’d have to wake soon to feed Kieran anyway, so he hoped to give her as long as he could. He walked him out to the main room to the rocking chair in front of the dying fireplace, the dogs all pushing in to get a sniff of the newest little lordling.

Hestia was the first to press her nose into Eris’ lap, giving the baby a deep sniff, then looking at him. He’d almost swear he saw approval flitting in her emotive eyes. The dogs settled around him–all but Cinder, who had still not left Tilly’s side and slept right at the foot of her bed. He was exhausted too from pacing around while Tilly birthed Kieran; he’d stayed in the room the whole time, shooting dirty looks at anyone who even thought to suggest they remove him.

Eris took Kieran and laid him out on gently on his legs, looking at his face in the low firelight. He was the most perfect thing Eris had ever seen, his little bright red curls of hair the perfect mirror of Eris' own. Every time he saw him, his heart pounded with pride like he’d never felt before. He’d been overflowing with emotions since the moment he’d laid eyes on his son’s face, so pure and perfect and new.

How could anyone have a child and not love them with the entirety of their heart?

He brushed his fingers through the soft curls, over the curves of Kieran’s tiny face. “You and your mother are the best things that I have ever been blessed with. You’ve given me love and hope past what anyone deserves, and I will never, ever make you feel like you are less than the most important things in my universe.” He leaned down to press a kiss to the now-sleeping babe’s forehead, Kieran’s small breaths puffing softly between parted lips as Eris brought him back to the bassinet.

Blessedly, Tilly was still asleep in the bed, looking lovely and perfect and every bit the love of his life. He climbed slowly into the bed with her, careful not to jostle or wake her.

Five hundred years was a long time to be alive, but Eris couldn’t remember any moments that had come even close to making him feel as wonderfully content as he did now. He pressed the lightest kiss to Tilly’s forehead, thanking her and the universe and the Cauldron and anyone else who might have been listening for this gift beyond comparison that he’d been given, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Taglist (lomls): @cauldronblssd @queercontrarian @byyalady @thelovelymadone @clockwork-ashes @lovingkelj @lilah-asteria

[violet-shadows]

Missing Piece (Part Eleven) (NSFW)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete. 

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut at the end of the chapter, discussion of death

A/N: I apologize for the delay in getting this published and appreciate your patience. To make up for it, I’m planning on posting the next part within 48 hours. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

I sat in the bathtub until the water ran cold, scrubbing my skin so raw that it stung, desperate to be sure all traces of the male I killed were rinsed away. This was far from my first time being covered in blood, but it certainly felt different knowing I was the one who drew it. When I was too cold and tired to sit in the water any longer, I got out, stifling a groan as my sore muscles protested. I tied my hair back into a loose braid, careful not to tug on the stitches at my temple, and donned the nightgown Nesta had left for me. As she predicted, it was too long for my frame, but fit well enough to be decent. When I was ready, I took a deep breath before stepping out of the bathing room, acutely aware that this was not how I had imagined seeing Cassian and Nesta’s bedroom for the first time.

 The two of them stood when I entered, both rushing over like I was a newborn foal not sure on its feet. Despite all that had happened, the care they displayed made my heart squeeze in my chest. “We have food,” Nesta explained as Cassian took my elbow, gently guiding me to the edge of their bed. The mattress was larger than any I had ever seen, likely built to accommodate one or more sets of wings, and I couldn’t help but think it would do quite nicely fitting the three of us. Once I was settled in bed, a tray with steamed vegetables and bread was placed on my lap. Nesta crawled onto the bed, sitting at my left side while Cassian took a seat on the edge, watching me intently, his trademark humor gone from his eyes.

“I’m okay,” I felt the need to say, taking a tentative bite of the food. In truth, I wasn’t the least bit hungry, but I figured a few bites would make the protective pair feel better. 

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Cassian said, eyebrows pinched together. “Nothing about what happened tonight is okay. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, for all of it.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I replied, forcing a small smile that was meant to be reassuring. “If anything it was mine… I didn’t check the peephole and I walked home alo—” 

“Don’t say that,” said Cassian, “this was definitely not your fault.” 

“It was that damned male’s fault, and Amarantha’s, not yours though,” Nesta added, “never yours.” 

We sat in silence for several breaths as I thought of what to say next. I debated pushing down my feelings, locking the memory away, and asking them not to mention it, but the residual terror and heavy guilt that was weighing on me demanded to be felt. “I’ve never killed anyone before,” I whispered, looking down into my lap.

“You defended yourself,” Nesta replied, placing a gentle hand on my knee. “He killed himself when he attacked you. You did well.” 

“I didn’t even try to save him though,” I argued, my heart rate beginning to rise once more as I flashed back to that moment, hours before when I sat frozen while he bled out before my eyes. “I didn’t—” a sob cut me off midsentence, the emotions I’d been suppressing returning in full force. 

The tray disappeared from my lap and I was soon being pulled into a set of strong arms. Cassian hugged me, whispering soothing words as my cries turned into wails. Nesta had scooted closer to me on the bed, and I could feel her rubbing circles into my back as I wept. For how long we sat there, I wasn’t sure, but when my sobs finally ceased, turning into whines and sniffles, I was exhausted. “Do you want us to go?” Nesta asked when I had caught my breath. I shook my head furiously, grasping at Cassian’s shirt. I felt like I was at the edge of an abyss and they were the only thing keeping me from falling in headfirst.

Cassian nodded, shifting me with surprising ease until I was laying down in between the two of them. He stood, moving to extinguish the faelights while Nests slipped under the covers at my side. I turned towards her and she cupped my face with her hand, running her thumb across my cheekbone in gentle strokes. “I’m so sorry this happened,” she whispered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” 

“You’re here now,” I replied, leaning into her touch, “that’s what matters.” 

“I was so, so scared,” she said, her grey eyes filling with tears, “when I smelled the blood. I was terrified that I might lose you before I even had you.” I swallowed thickly, reaching out to intertwine my hand with hers. Behind me, Cassian slid into bed wordlessly. 

“Nothing like that is ever going to happen again,” Cassian said. “I won’t ever let you get hurt again, I swear it.” 

“We swear it,” Nesta added, sounding resolute, and I felt the bond between us sing with the intensity of their promise. In a moment of boldness driven by pure emotion, I leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Then I turned around to face Cassian and did the same, running my hand along his stubbled jawline as I did. Kissing Cassian felt far different than kissing Nesta, but it filled me with the same glowing warmth, soothing my aching heart as I did. Cassian was smiling when I pulled away, turning back towards Nesta so as not to put pressure on my sore ribs. He snuggled into bed behind me, resting an arm around my waist. “Is this okay?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“It’s perfect,” I whispered, settling into my mates’ embrace. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Madja left strict instructions that I was not to return to work until she cleared me, so I spent the days following the incident in the House of Wind with Cassian and Nesta. I spent much of that time in bed, resting my sore muscles and conserving energy so that my body would heal. Cassian or Nesta remained at my side at all times, and each night, we went to sleep together, with the two of them tucked against me on either side. The feeling of their warmth cocooning me was familiar, and it wasn’t until the second night that I realized I had experienced this before, in the dreams I had before I met them. Unlike in the dreams, though, I didn’t wake up in an empty bed, feeling like a piece of my soul was hollowed out. Instead, I was awoken each morning by one or both of my mates stirring, their gentle hands running along my back and through my hair,  calling me from sleep. It was blissful to be so near to them, the contentment I felt when I was wrapped up between them was so deep it was nearly hypnotizing. 

As the days passed and my body healed, I began to think about returning to my apartment. The thought made me shudder, but I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. We hadn’t discussed officially moving in together, only dancing around the subject from time to time, and I wanted to be sure they were certain about it before I made the House of Wind my home. Despite this, the thought of returning to that apartment made my stomach turn.

I pictured trying to sleep there alone with the blood-soaked floorboards and boarded-up window reminding me of what I had done. Imagining it made me feel cold all over, goose flesh appearing on my arms. I was thinking about it when Cassian walked out of the bathing room on the third day, and he seemed to pick up on my mood right away. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. It was quite the sight: a big, strong warrior, one of the best that ever lived, his face soft with kindness and concern. My heart fluttered in my chest.

“Just—”, I almost told him but bit my tongue. I didn’t want to pressure them into inviting me to stay. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Cassian prompted his large hand encircling one of mine. 

“I was just thinking about what happened,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Thinking about all the nice things you did to fix up my apartment, and now…” My throat constricted and I couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“We’ll bring those things here,” Cassian said, squeezing my hand. “Or get you all new things, if you want.” 

“Here?” I asked, avoiding his gaze.

“Or… if you’d prefer, we could get you a new apartment,” he didn’t seem enthused by the idea, something like disappointment seeping into his tone. “You don’t have to go back there. Ever again, if you don’t want to.” 

“Do you— do you and Nesta want me to get a new apartment?” I asked, emboldened by Cassian’s sincerity. 

“We…,” he hesitated, “we want…”

“We want you to move in here,” Nesta’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. As usual, her silver eyes bored into mine, as though she was peering into my soul. I felt the bond between the three of us go taught. “But, that’s your decision to make.” 

“You want me here?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Are we sure?” Nesta scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Of course, we want you here. If it were up to us we’d never leave your side again.” 

“But we don’t want to pressure you,” Cassian added hastily. 

“I want to go back to my apartment,” I said without thinking. Cassian and Nesta froze, exchanging a look reminiscent of heartbreak, and I rushed to clarify. “To see it one more time, before I move in here.” 

Cassian’s face stretched into a wide grin and Nesta smiled and her expression was tender. They blew out a breath, perfectly in sync with one another, and the tension in the air dissolved. Before I could say more, Nesta was on me, her arms thrown around my neck as she all but tackled me onto the bed. I winced, my ribs smarting slightly, but leaned into her touch all the same, my body melting into hers. She pulled back, cradling my face between two soft hands, and pressed her lips to mine in a passionate kiss. I nibbled at her lower lips, my hands settling on either side of her hips, but just as I was about to go further, she pulled back. “Shit, your ribs. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I said, blushing and breathless. To our side, Cassian chuckled lowly, his scent cedar smoke and fresh rain, had shifted slightly, a note of heady musk now faint in the air. Lust. Any nerves I had were flushed out by desire, and I squeezed my thighs together, moving once more toward Nesta. She stopped my advances with one hand on my chest, her touch scorching my skin through my thin nightgown. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her pupils were blown wide, drifting down to the swell of my breasts and then back up to my face.

“A few more days,” she whispered. “We need you in full health for what we have planned.” 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

‼️ Explicit Sexual Content - Minors Do Not Interact ‼️

Sleeping next to my mates for the next two nights was divine torment. Now that I was feeling better and all was right between the three of us, the lid we had on our physical attraction had been blown wide open. At night, my skin seemed to tingle beneath their touch and it was all I could do not to beg them to move forward with their plans. The feeling of Nesta’s soft curves pressed against my front, her silken legs tangling with mine as we slept was enough to make me ache with need. Likewise, Cassian’s hard body pressed against my spine, and the occasional brush of something stiff against my ass had moisture pooling between my thighs. 

Sinful thoughts kept me awake, tormenting me with temptation that wouldn’t yield. Nesta’s slumbering form was particularly close to mine, and I pictured throwing my leg over her waist and grinding against her. I thought of how her nipples would harden, pebbling beneath her silk nightgown, and what it might feel like to slip the fabric over her head while Cassian ground his hips against me from behind. I imagined what it might feel like for him to hike up my nightgown and press into my cunt while Nesta—

My fantasy was interrupted by the star of the show himself, and I held my breath as I felt him stir behind me. He moved closer, resting his chin on my shoulder so he could whisper in my ear, “Did you have a good dream, my love?” he breathed out, the warm air on my neck sending shivers up my spine. The hand resting on my stomach moved slightly lower and pulled me backward, pressing my body flush against his. I felt his length twitch against my ass and let out a quiet moan. “Need some help?” he asked and I didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning. 

I was so distracted by Cassian’s roaming hand that I didn’t notice Nesta awaken until her hand was settling on the curve of my waist. “You smell divine,” she whispered, placing an open mouth kiss on the hollow of my throat, “and needy.” 

“Should we give her some relief, Nes?” Cassian asked, nibbling at my ear lobe. I whimpered and Nesta let out a cruel, breathy chuckle. 

“I don’t know,” Nesta whispered, her eyes not leaving my face, “has she been a good girl?” She lifted her knee slightly and grazed my sex, applying the slightest bit of pressure and then pulling back before I could buck my hips for more friction. 

“I think,” Cassian said, his hand slipping lower until it rested mere centimeters from where I wanted it, “she’s been a very good girl.” His hand pressed between my thighs, rubbing through fabric, and I gasped. 

As Cassian’s hand drifted lower, sliding under the hem of my nightgown at an excruciatingly slow pace, Nesta’s hands slide higher, cupping my breasts. At the same time, Cassian’s hand reached my cunt, and Nesta’s brushed over my nipple. I arched my back, moaning as Cassian’s fingers slid across my slit, dancing over my clit in teasing strokes. Nesta kissed me then, deep and more passionately than ever before. Her tongue probed against my lips in time with the movement of Cassian’s fingers, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before they had me undone. 

Indeed, moments later Cassian dipped a single, thick finger inside my core, his palm grinding against my clit and sending me over the edge. I released a breathless yelp that should have been embarrassing, but my climax was so intense I didn’t care. My legs shook and my toes pointed as I squeezed my thighs together around Cassian’s hand. Nesta kissed me deeper and I felt Cassian’s mouth nip at the base of my neck. In the end, I was panting as I relax between the two of them, feeling utterly boneless and blissed out. Nesta giggled affectionately, running her fingers through my hair, and Cassian’s rough hand slid down my thigh, massaging the still-tense muscles. “There,” Nesta murmured, “now you can sleep.” 

“What about you two?” I asked, my eyes already drooping. I was always the type to get sleepy after sex, but the contentment I felt then was like a sleeping draught.

“Don’t worry about us, love,” Cassian replied, the rumble of his deep voice reverberating through me. 

“I want more,” I whined, my eyes already falling shut. I wanted to fight it, to demand we continue what we started and go back to chasing heaven with the two of them, but I’d never been more comfortable in my life. 

Cassian chuckled and Nesta pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Soon, my love,” she whispered. “There’s plenty more where that came from.” I drifted off shortly after that, into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/17/2024) Episode: Fun in Flight

With a bag of parts and good news about First Order air defenses, the couple received a warm welcome back at the rebel section of the theme park.

Vi programmed their data pads so they could help get her X-wing “in working order” giving them cool hi-tech props to work with. Keenly aware it was the last day of their honeymoon, they set to work with a will, determined to experience this final mission before they left.

Noemi, whose background with robotics made her much more adept at this sort of thing, finished well before her husband.

She wandered over his way to observe and give him some friendly, teasing, advice. Catching him concentrating intensely on an imaginary weld, an “x-ray mask” shielding his face, she leaned in close and whispered: “I think you may have missed your calling sir”.

He jumped, grimacing as his “repair” errored out. “Oh, this is fine” he replied, starting over “although “Press X to repair fighter” is more my speed.”

At long last Vi cleared them to climb into the cockpit, which descended into a bumpy hidden tunnel as they “took off” into the sky projected on the impressive displays serving as the windows of their ride. Noemi, knowing how much Luigi had been looking forward to this, let him take the pilot’s seat.

Things started out well, with him baiting a First Order supply ship as Noemi shot down drones and Vi’s recorded voice gave updates about the traps being laid for their target. Unfortunately, Luigi found himself panicking again when the larger ship loomed large on their tail, firing intimidating blasts across their shields. “Hang on!” he cried, frantically punching buttons and levers.

Increasing speed and dodging through the narrow confines of the petrified forest, he got a bit too far ahead of their dangerous prey, and they lost the chance to capture and raid the other vessel when it crashed into some rocks. “We’ll get em’ next time” the recording of Vi assured them as they disembarked, disappointed but still exhilarated by their high-speed adventure.

There would be no “next time” for Luigi and Noemi this trip. They had just enough time to say goodbye to their friends at the Cantina and take one last walk through the park before grabbing their bags from check in and teleporting back home to Sulani and the real life that awaited them.

As he stopped to “Til the Spire” with Noemi in front of the statue at the heart of Blackspire Outpost Luigi reflected that spending time at his favorite theme park with his favorite girl by his side had made for a fantastic honeymoon.

He silently hoped that the upcoming Starlight Accolade ceremony would be just as wonderful for them both.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here