#for a wild ride of solstice kissing

[embrace-your-inner-kid]

Marisha confirming Laudna's realization of deeper feelings for Imogen during their 1-on-1 right before the solstice makes the way she looked at Imogen at the mention of team Wildemount having a threesome hit differently. This was interesting to learn because I've personally felt confident in reading Imogen's feelings, but Laudna has been more challenging to read regarding her feelings on romance. She really had to get confirmation if Imogen participated or not, the jealousy was waiting to make an appearance and she needed assurance.

OMG, the events and emotions these two have gone through in a short period of time are insane:

Betrayal -> Imogen's jealousy -> Imogen's realization -> Laudna's death -> Fight for Laudna's soul -> Laudna's resurrection -> Laudna's realization -> Being separated -> Being reunited again -> Laudna's jealousy -> Imogen asking to kiss Laudna -> Girlfriends

It's been a wild but satisfying ride.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

This Could Never Be A Mistake

A snippet in which Azriel confesses his feelings for Elain. Post ACOSF / Warnings: Angst, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Language Full Chapter on A03

“I want you,” Elain said softly, holding his gaze. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone, or anything.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, his restraint simmering. He slowly came towards her, chalice in hand.

“When you look at me that way,” he murmured, drawing closer, “and say such wicked things- ” he swallowed a bit of wine, “- you make it rather hard for me not to touch you.” his voice was a velvet caress.

Azriel drew closer, slowly, until he stood just before her.

Elain only looked at him and sent every aching ounce of want into her deep, brown eyes.

The beat of the drums in the distance swelled.

“I want you to touch me, Azriel.” she said, looking up to him. “I want you to touch me everywhere.”

Azriel groaned, running his hand across his face.

“Please.” she whispered, looking up at him, only a few inches away. All haunted eyes and ancient wings and caressing shadows. Every dark, broken dream she had ever had.

Azriel seemed unable to deny such a soft request, so he dared to step closer. Elain’s lips parted in invitation.

The drumbeats became wild.

And then finally, slowly, the shadowsinger leaned in, his resolve buckling- only to still completely, a breath away from her.

And then he inhaled ever so slightly, dark head cocking. Elain watched as something that could only be described as icy shock washed over his features.

Yet he did not step away.

“Why,” he whispered, his voice sharp enough to cut glass, “do I scent Lucien on your skin?”

His voice sliced through the haze in her mind, in her gaze. And Elain swallowed slowly.

She stared at Azriel, at a loss for a moment, and began to murmur under her breath, “how on earth-”

“Why?” he said, louder this time, stiller than death.

Elain’s brows lowered at the sound, at the reproach in his voice. She could feel him pulling away. Leaving. Again. Always leaving. There was no way in hell she was letting it happen again.

“Because we went riding.” she stammered as he pulled away, “After lunch, we went riding.”

“Then why,” he repeated, “do I scent him on your skin, Elain?” Azriel’s eyes were wild.

The drumbeats in the distance hammered on.

“Because he-” she swallowed, “- he kissed me.” Elain said simply, honestly, not ashamed, not backing down.

One moment Azriel was standing before her and the next he was walking away, throwing his chalice against the stone floor, shattering it completely.

“Azriel, please-”

“Is this a game to you?” he whirled, wings trembling. Shock washed over Elain’s face but she stood her ground.

“I didn’t ask for it.” Her voice ripped from her as her own temper rose. “It just happened.”

Azriel’s scarred hands ripped through his dark hair. “That entitled filth.”

“It was all wrong, anyway.” she said, calming her voice, attempting to sooth his anger.

“OF COURSE IT WAS ALL WRONG.” he bellowed at the far wall, and then he drew into himself, running his hands down his face.

“It’s always been fucking wrong.” it was the most undone she had ever seen him. He muttered under his breath then, almost inaudibly, “I’m going to kill that filthy fucking prick.”

The vicious rage leaking from the shadowinger sent a tremor down her spine.

“Azriel calm down.” Elain insisted, her own temper rising again.

“Do not ASK me to do so.” he snapped back. Elain stilled at his sharp tone. Azriel realized it and took a deep breath in. He schooled the anguish from his gaze and allowed something truer, something deeper, to reveal itself beneath. He met her gaze with a sea of churning hazel.

“Do you know that since I have tasted you, fuck, since I have laid eyes on you, that I have thought of you, and you alone, every moment?”

Elain froze completely.

“Do you know each word you have spoken, at Solstice, at Rosehall, at Starfall, has been something I’ve waited an entire lifetime to hear?”

Azriel looked at her, hazel eyes wild and full of need and need and need and all the rest. She knew it was all coming directly from a well of barred emotion, deep within him.

“Do you know that you are every song I have heard in this world, wrapped into one unchained, perfect melody?”

“Do you know that being ordered to stay away from you for a year nearly fractured my miserable fucking soul?”

Every ounce of anger in Elain emptied out at the words. It was more than he had ever shared before, by a landslide.

These confessions were everything. Everything she had never asked. Everything she had needed to hear.

“So forgive me, Elain,” his voice quieted then, wings still shaking, “If I am unable to remain fucking calm when I think of another male’s hands on you.”

Elain realized a fundamental truth in that moment. That her mating bond was not merely an inconvenience to Azriel. It was heartbreaking for him to endure.

His anguish reeled in as he neared, piercing hazel meeting her eyes. And beneath his fury, she saw it there, a word far, far more powerful than need or want or longing.

And that word reached for her.

“Because you do not belong to him.” he said, voice low.

“You belong to no one, but yourself, and the power within you.”

The drums were a warcry in the night.

“But know, here and now,” he breathed, his voice quieting, emotion aching in his eyes as he looked at her,

“That every piece of my own ruined heart belongs to you.”

Elain stopped breathing, tears welling in her tender gaze. She made a small, whimpering noise of need that she couldn’t help. She reached her slight hand towards Azriel, the movement soft.

She reached like a lifeline, she reached like a prayer to a nameless god, she reached.

It was everything. It was everything.

He was only a few feet away, but Elain couldn’t seem to move. Azriel blanched as he watched her reach. Reach for him, for his confession, reach for it all, reach with acceptance and I see you and I see it all, and I have want, I have need, I have need of you, Azriel. And then his restraint shattered completely.

“Damn the Cauldron,” he made a long stride towards her,

“Damn the Stars.” he closed the distance with another.

“This-” Azriel said, grabbing her face with both scarred hands and bringing it within an inch of his own-

“This-” he wrapped his scent around hers, and he looked directly into her soul, making sure she could feel the sensation, the charge, the electricity she could never, ever come close to feeling with anyone else, as he met her eyes.

“This could never be a mistake.”

And then Azriel’s perfect mouth along with his entire body crashed into her own in a fury of need and want and broken resolve, as the drums in the distance silenced entirely.

Read the full chapter on AO3 here.

[invisibleraven]

Because I can't not: Song Based AU (Good lookin' by Dixon Dallas) for Reggie/anyone

sorry not sorry

Thanks to @where-you-go for introducing us to this song, and curse you Inny for getting it stuck in my head once more.

Reggie heaved himself back in the hayloft, glancing to his side and sharing a grin with the hunk lying beside him. "So not how I thought I'd be spending my summer."

"What you didn't imagine spending most of your summer riding a wild young buck?"

Reggie snorted. "So like this."

"Well I doubt any stallion will give you the release I just did."

"Ruined me for any other horse, that's for sure," Reggie snarked as he pulled his clothes back on. "Same time tomorrow?"

A wink and a tip of a Stetson was all the response Reggie got, but he did so enjoy watching his afternoon delight walk away-the man sure knew how to fill out a pair of chaps!

Look, Reggie knew this was a stupid idea, fooling around with the ranch hand at his MeeMaw's farm. But after his hellish senior year, his parents' ugly divorce, and no future prospects in sight, he deserved a little fun alright?

Well, it had started as fun anyways-a drunken tumble after the Summer Solstice Festival, heated kisses against the barn that led to him getting ridden into the sunset up in the hayloft. And well, every evening since then they had found some excuse to sneak off for a little fun.

But Reggie's treacherous heart wasn't built for fun. And every tryst with the handsome farm hand left him wanting more. More kisses, only out in the open. Holding hands as they strolled the fields together. Maybe going to the community potluck together hand in hand. Actually riding a horse together-instead of each other.

But he was only here for the summer, and his partner surely had plans once the season ended. Plans that in no way involved Reggie.

Not that they ever talked about it-or much at all really.

But that didn't stop Reggie from pining, from writing stupid love songs-one that was especially graphic that got tossed into the woodstove so his MeeMaw never found it-telling him how much he wanted this to be more.

Yet Reggie never said anything. Just let himself enjoy slaking his lust every night up in the hayloft, or out under the stars as the fireflies came out. Once up in his bed, giggling as the iron frame squeaked with every thrust, but the television downstairs was so loud it drowned them out.

"I'm going home next week," Reggie finally said one night, picking the straw from his hair.

"I know."

"What are you doing after? I know you're only here for the summer."

"I was. Might see if Chavalah will keep me on for the harvest. Or maybe I'll pack up my duds and see the country. I don't rightly know."

"Well... maybe you could write to me?" Reggie asked. "Let me know where you end up?"

"You mean you aren't going to ask me to come visit?" A wry smile punctuated the question.

"I mean, I'd love it if you did," Reggie replied. "Show you the sights of LA, maybe we could... go out sometime?"

"Like a date?"

"If you'd like," Reggie said, giving a noncommittal shrug. "I know it's harder to be out here, and I wasn't sure if you wanted more than-"

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off with a kiss, a sweet, playful one that made Reggie's toes tingle. He blinked when they pulled apart, matching grins on their faces. "I thought you'd never ask."

[tarottchotchkes]

How Christian is Christmas? NOT MUCH!

CHRISTMAS: A Christian festival, named after Christ’s mass, celebrating the birth of Jesus. Any fool knows that. Slightly more savvy people are aware that Christ wasn’t born in 1 AD and now that Christmas is actually a cleaned-up version of old rituals. But that’s not the half of it. In fact, Christmas is utterly Pagan.

For a start, there is no evidence that Jesus was born at Christmas. Shepherds would not have had their flocks out in the fields in midwinter, even in Palestine. Nor would the Romans have ordered a census in the winter, the most difficult time of the year for travelling.

 As for the twelve days of Christmas, that traditionally the time it took for the three wise men to arrive at the stable in Bethlehem. The fact is that the Roman celebrations around the winter solstice (December 21st), starting with the feast of Saturnalia and ending with the Sol Invictus festival also lasted twelve days. All over the world, the solstice is connected with rebirth, so it made sense for the early Christians to tag on their own ersatz birth-celebration to one that was already around.

 Or take Santa Claus. “Santa Claus” is “Saint Nicholas” mispronounced, and Saint Nick is the patron saint of children – as well as merchants and pawnbrokers, which seem rather apt. So how did Saint Nick, who lived in Turkey, end up at the North Pole, driving a sleigh full of reindeer?

 It’s claimed that part of the story goes back to the Norse god Odin, who also gave cash to the poor, and who used to ride across the sky. And there’s Cernunnos, the Horned God who led the Wild Hunt, chasing souls through the night sky. Or Freya, another Norse deity, who was supposed to spend the twelve days after the winter solstice driving a chariot pulled by stags, giving presents to the good and punishing the naughty. Whichever of the ancient legends you choose one thing’s for sure: Father Christmas is as Pagan as they come!

 He first appeared as a fat bearded bloke in a fur coat in a poem written in 1822 by Clement Clark Moore and a picture drawn by Thomas Nast in 1860 – up to then he’d been anything from a skinny elf to a thinly-disguised version of Cernunnos dressed in green. When in 1931 the Coca-Cola company wanted a figure to represent their drink around the world, they commissioned artist Haddon Sunblum to paint a fat, jolly, human Santa in their corporate colors of red and white, and the rest is history (and marketing).

 But red and white is also the color of the fly agaric mushroom, a powerful hallucinogen from northern Europe, where it is the favorite food of reindeer. It used to be a big part of pre-Christian shamanic rituals, and was said to have been formed from the specks of blood and spittle that fell from the mouth of Odin’s horse as he galloped on (TA daaaa!) the winter solstice! And Christmas poet Clement Moore was an expert on European folklore. That’s no coincidence. [Is that where the flying reindeer come from? – John]

Christmas was never a celebration of Christ’s birth – there’s nothing in the Bible to say that Christ’s birth should be celebrated at all, and it wasn’t until 375 AD that the Church fixed it’s date. Instead, it was a way of twisting old beliefs to Christianity’s advantage, making more converts for what was then the new faith on the block. Roman historians realized this: in 230 AD Tertullian wondered why the Christians were so willing to dilute their beliefs with Pagan “superstitions”.

 MISTLETOE: Has no Christian significance. It’s an ancient Druid fertility symbol, and people used to do a lot more than kiss under it.

 HOLLY: Supposedly something to do with Christ’s crown of thorns. But in fact a lot more to do with the god Saturn and the old Pagan Holly King.

 CHRISTMAS TREES: Evergreen trees were a potent symbol of life in the dark winter days. Decorating them was a way of making offerings top the tree’s spirit.

 PRESENTS: From the Roman feast of Saturnalia, integrated into Christmas in 375 AD when the church first set Christ’s birthday as December 25th.

 YULE LOGS: A Scandinavian tradition, where an oak log was kept burning for 12 days, and a piece of it saved to light the next year’s log. “Yule” is named after Ullr, the Norse god of winter.

 BOOZE: The old Greeks celebrated the death and rebirth of Dionysus, the god of wine and wild revelry, for 12 days at the winter solstice. Dionysus’s parents were Zeus and Hera. When the Titans killed him, he was brought back to life and ascended Mount Olympus.

                                                 Remind you of anyone?

[sabraeal]

(don’t go) making something out of nothing, Part 1

Prologue

i. the first woman he ever loved

The cut is deep, but he’ll give the little shit this-- it’s clean. He spends a day or two on his back, doped up on the weird liqueurs these pharmacists keep plying him with. When he rouses from his stupor, his nose is stitched tight and bandaged to within an inch of it’s life. A tall girl, willowy and bossy, makes dire promises about what she will personally assure will happen to him if he doesn’t take good care of her handiwork, and sends him off with a pot of ointment. When he unscrews the lid, he sneezes; nearly rips a stitch right there. Very medicinal, this stuff.

He doesn’t of course. It heals poorly, a scar like heaved earth erupting over his nose. Women love it.

The cold doesn’t. A discovery he’d be in no place to make if His Majesty hadn’t assigned him to Her Majesty’s guard. Her Majesty, who makes a yearly retreat up to the ass end of the continent for the winter months, since apparently Wistal doesn’t get cold enough for her liking.

That’s where he is when it happens; hundreds of miles away, surrounded by lesser lords and scholars, bored out of his mind. Funny that his first thought isn’t of the king, now lying cold on a slab in the palace, waiting for his kingdom to pay him his due; nor the woman who keeps vigil on the balcony, staring toward the southern sky--

Oh no, it’s for him, that little shit. Wondering if those dead eyes show anything now; if the boy prince looks upon the body of his sire and feels anything at all.

He does. There’s no way a boy can’t. The traitorous part of him suspects it must be relief.

“Your Majesty.” The night swallows his voice, smothering it as surely as any pillow. “Don’t you think it’s time to head in?”

She raises a hand, bone-white and gleaming, but doesn’t turn. “Just a moment longer.”

Thick flakes collect on his nose, scar aching beneath them. He’s been out here too long; the snow doesn’t even melt when it settles on his skin.

“It’s cold as tits out here,” he mutters, twitching the mound off his shoulders. “Hasn’t there been tragedy enough already?”

He glances up, and gods above, the queen is staring right at him with those eyes of hers, so blue they’re nearly black. “Did you say something, Sir Zakura?”

His skin can’t blanch with his blood frozen like it is, so he just settles for stammering like an idiot, as if regret could make the king’s window unhear him. “I-I only meant--”

“Did you know, Sir Zakura,” she begins, gaze turning back out toward the horizon, “that tonight is the longest night?”

He spends a single, thick-witted moment wondering whether she’s speaking in a poetical sense-- these nobles like to do that, slinging allusions and aspersions all in the same pot to make a particularly heady brew-- until he remembers. “Ah, the solstice, isn’t it?”

He can’t read her face, not when her back is to him like this, but he does see the way a cheek rounds, pleased. “Just so.”

It doesn’t mean much down south, where the winds are always warm and the sun clings to Wistal’s cloudless skies. But up here, where winter is but a whim away, it’s something else entirely. A rebirth, one of the men had told him as they’d passed the tents along the main street, lanterns hanging on strings above them. A promise.

There’s been talk of kissing too, but that seems a poor thing to mention to a woman whose widowhood is still laying fresh on the slab.

“Your Majesty,” he tries again, “it’ll get darker. And colder. Come inside.”

She turns to him, the moonlight pouring over her shoulder, illuminating the pristine ermine of her robes, washing the pale gold of her hair to silver, and--

It’s a goddess these northerners revere tonight, moon and sun and earth all come together. And in this light, in the way the spheres have aligned themselves in this moment, just for his view, she could be her in the flesh.

“Isn’t it said, sir,” she murmurs, words loud in the lull of the storm, “that it’s darkest before the dawn?”

Zakura doesn’t hold with the gods, but his breath catches even still. The woman before him is more than just a widow, more than just a queen, more than--

The wind howls through the walls, snow flying from its crenellations, and as it falls around them, every flake limned in moonlight, Haruto laughs.

“All right,” she says, mortal once more. “I can take a hint.”

The queen sweeps past him, robe trailing in the snow. It leaves a wake behind her, her footprints filled by what it drags behind. For a single mindless moment, Zakura wonders if her feet even touched the ground.

He turns, just in time to see her drop her robe in the doorway. With a sigh, he trudges in behind her, gathering the fur and velvet into his arms; the diligent mother to her rambunctious child. Wet tracks lead across the carpet, straight to the divan where she perches. Snowflakes melt on her skin, her hair, soaking her to the bone.

And there she sits, the Queen Regent of Clarines, oblivious to it all.

A maid steps forward-- a new one, provided for her by Arleon. The queen had left her household back at Wistal, save for him; the duke had been kind enough to provide her with a temporary replacement during her stay. It came, of course, complete with his daughter as a lady-in-waiting, but Her Majesty seems pleased with the outcome and not the least apologetic.

Zakura shoves the robe at the maid-- Mayu, he thinks? Or maybe Ane?-- and murmurs, “Tea. Please.”

She blinks, eyes darting toward where the queen sat, silent. “Shall I send her ladies, sir? She need to get out of those clothes before she catches...”

Her death. He doesn’t blame the girl for keeping those trapped behind her teeth. “Just the tea.”

The maid opens her mouth, as if she’d like to object, but the queen’s stillness is sharply interrupted by a seismic shiver. It makes his teeth chatter just watching, but Her Majesty--

Her Majesty doesn’t move, not one muscle. The maid’s lips press together, a thin white line across her face, and nods. “Tea. Of course, sir.”

He doesn’t watch to see if she goes.

With caution, he edges around the furniture, slipping between the settee and the coffee table to sit at its edge, eyes fixed on the woman in front of him.

Her mouth curls, but there’s no more of that manic laughter in it. He can’t say whether he’s relieved or concerned. “Don’t look at me like that, sir.”

Her voice is lilted, teasing, but even as young as he is, he hears the tremor in it, knows what it means. It had been in his own mother’s enough.

“I’m happy to be home.” There’s no false bravado in that one; even if she hadn’t said it, he’d know. In Wistal, the queen is a whisper, but here she’s an explosion; every room she enters she fills. “Even if some things had to be left behind...”

Some things, she says, so easily, as if His Majesty had not barely allowed this trip, as if he had not told her it was unseemly to be seen among rebels and traitors. As if she had not practically begged His Highness on her knees to come with her, and he had waved her off.

The capital is too diverting, he told her with that smug smirk of his, the same he wore when he looked at the bits of scab still clinging to Zakura’s nose. I couldn’t possibly spare a moment. Especially not for a trip to nowhere.

Nowhere. Throngs of folk filled the streets of Wirant every day, the second largest city in his kingdom, only rivaled by Eurikenna, and yet-- it meant nothing to him. No wonder Bergatt had rebelled.

And now his mother sat in mourning, and still the little shit couldn’t spare so much as a song for her. She’d written, of course, the moment she heard the news-- will you not, at least, send your brother, who must long for his mother now?-- but Zakura knew what the answer would be.

I could not possibly spare him-- as if a ten-year-old had any sort of skill in statecraft-- we look forward to seeing you in the spring.

The queen doesn’t waver, there’s not a bit of her that bows, but he knows better than anyone: women don’t bear their hurts for all to see. Instead it lingers in the crease of her eyes, where old smiles hide them; in the worried knot of her hands, obscured by the folds of her skirt; in the gentle way she lists with her world pulled out from underneath her.

If only His Highness would deign to see her this way, maybe he wouldn’t find the court’s little games so diverting. Or maybe he would. Who could say? He’s not here now.

But Zakura is.

“You have me, your Majesty.” It’d sound prettier from one of the other guards, one of the spares, or maybe a merchant’s boy. The kind of folk who grew up with more than one book in their house and didn’t use it as a shim under a table leg.

She blinks the clouds from her eyes, mouth curving in a fond smile. “I do, at that.”

He’s too rough for this; all these years in the guard have barely smoothed his edges, but well-- he’s what she’s got. She deserves that, at least. “You always will.”

“Ah.” A too-thin hand settles on his head, fingers carding gently through his hair. “A pretty sentiment. Thank you, sir.”

His breath hisses through his teeth, sharp and wounded, but still-- he leans into her touch. Heart clattering against his ribs, he allows her to push back the sweep of his hair, to look into his eyes. She sees a boy, but he can show her he is a man well enough.

“My lady,” he rasps, and oh, it hurts like a bitch to bare himself like this. “You said it’s the solstice, right?”

Her brows flirt right with her hairline, like she’s used to speaking but not being heard. “So I did.”

He’s not a shy man, not untouched, but he swallows hard when her gaze meets his. It’s enough, only just.

Beneath his lips, hers are thinner than he’s used to, but as soft and any maid’s. Her breath skitters over his skin on a gasp, fingers clenching in his hair-- from surprise, not any more southerly urge, and--

“Well,” she murmurs, a scant inch from him. “That was...pleasant.”

“Ah...” His mouth works, if only to keep it from a grimace. “Your Majesty. I hadn’t...I mean, I didn’t...”

Her mouth, too near, quirks with the same mischief as her son’s. “At a loss for words, Sir Zakura?”

“I only just...” He should stop talking, needs to stop talking, but oh, that look of hers says he’s gone too far to quit. “It was like kissing my mother.”

Queen Haruto tuns to him, days later, with the southern sky behind her and says, “I have been thinking, sir, that it is time for you to return.”

He can’t say he’s surprised, but still, it stings. “That so, my lady?”

“Do not miss my meaning.” Her voice is lower, softer, but still every inch a queen regnant. “I worry for my son, but with things as they are--” a dead king and lords circling like vultures in the royal court-- “I cannot go to him. Not yet.”

Ah, he can see the shape of this with only that peek behind the curtain, and he doesn’t like it.

“His Majesty put you in my care for a reason,” he presses, gruff. “And now that he is...”

Well, there’s no delicate way to put it. He lets it hang in the air between them, unsaid but utterly known.

Her hands fold, white as porcelain and just as perfect with the kid gloves covering them. Still too thin for his comfort; she needs to be eating more. “You’re the only man I can trust. Please.”

His breath burns, too cold in his lungs. “This is because of what I said about the kiss, isn’t it?”

Her mouth bows, humor trembling at it corners. “Oh, sir...” Her Majesty steps forward, hands cradling his cheeks. “Absolutely.”

[starbornvalkyrie]

the gift [an elucien one shot]

a/n: hellooooo friends. this lil number here was born of a morning discussion about pegging with @vanserrasvalkyrie​ @oversizedbats​ @vmiae​ @ladyvanserra​ @illyrianvalkyrie​ @booksandlewks​ @arielle-reads​ and @nina-zcnik​. you know, normal things. don’t worry, there are no acosf spoilers! this is pure filth, so i hope y’all like it lol enjoy!

content warning: hella explicit sexual content. obviously.

Celebrating Winter Solstice at Feyre and Rhysand’s riverside estate has been tradition for as long as Elain could remember. Ever since it was built, they celebrated here. Even after she officially moved to the Spring Court with Lucien on the other side of Prythian, she still came back to celebrate with her sisters and their growing families.

It was hard at first, being so far away from them. She missed them terribly, but at least she knew she could see them whenever she wanted. She’s been so happy being close to her sisters again, especially knowing that they’ll have centuries to grow together.

These last few weeks, however, didn’t leave her with much time to miss them. Ever since her mating ceremony to Lucien, they haven’t spent much time outside their manor, let alone their bedroom. Almost a month later, and Elain is still itching for gifts to be exchanged and dinner to be eaten, so that she can take her mate to bed. 

From where she sat alone on the bay window, Elain felt a tug on the bond deep in her heart, and immediately sought her mate out in the crowded sitting room of Feyre’s home. He had just moved to the bar cart to refill his drink, a reprieve from whatever conversation he had been having with Cassian about the latest Illyrian training regiment. Elain rarely knew a word coming from the Illyrian’s mouth. Most of the time she only smiles and nods until she’s able to step away politely. A quick scan of the room showed her that Cassian had returned to Nesta’s side.

Returning her attention to Lucien, her blush deepened when she caught his eye, a knowing smirk gracing his lips. He knows what she has been fantasizing about from the moment they left the comfort of their bed in the guest wing. She merely cocked her head to the side. The picture of feigned innocence. Lucien narrowed his eyes as though to say, Challenge accepted. He crossed his arms and brought a hand to his chin. An innocent gesture until he flicked his tongue against the pad of his thumb, pretending to wipe something away from his bottom lip.

Elain almost regretted forgoing her undergarments as she clenched her crossed legs tighter, knowing the action is futile in the presence of High Fae and skilled soldiers, but either her family is far too drunk already or have chosen to ignore the scent she’s sure to be releasing. No matter, she supposed. They all deserved it for their own newly-mated episodes. Elain felt Lucien’s chuckle and turned to glare at him before Mor exclaimed, “Rhys! Presents! Now!” Elain laughed as Rhysand rolled her eyes, grateful for the distraction from her own arousal.

With a wave of his hand, the presents appeared before the roaring fireplace. One by one, they were distributed, and Elain watched with a smile on her face. She was watching Nyx play with his new training dagger from Azriel when a present and a card appeared on her lap. She knew without looking up that it was her mate in front of her.

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until later,” she accused, cheeks reddening once again as she remembered what they had promised.

Lucien sat down and effortlessly pulled her sideways onto his lap. “It’s not from me. It’s from my… father.” Elain looked into his russet eye, finding the emotion within that came from acknowledging Helion as his father. She cupped a hand to his face and gave him a quick kiss, just because she could. “I’m not sure where he ran off to, but he told me we need to open it together.” Needing no further explanation, Elain tore into the white and gold wrapping paper, as Lucien read the card to her. “For fun,” was all it said.

Together, they lifted the lid of the box. Elain gasped and Lucien choked as they beheld a variety of gadgets to use in the bedroom to play. There was every toy Elain could think of, but her attention snagged on one particular device. Her eyes traveled along the straps and buckles until they reached the attached appendage. She looked at her mate, his metal eye whirring. No doubt he knew exactly what she was thinking before she had to say it. “Can I…” She swallowed, her voice thick with arousal. “Would you be okay with this?”

Lucien licked his lips and whispered, “Do your worst, Flower.” Elain exhaled through her nostrils, imagining her mate on his knees in front of her, his face buried in the pillows and silks of their bed. She bit her lip and involuntarily rocked her hips on his hardening length. Lucien hissed and gripped her tighter by the waist. “We still need to eat dinner, my love.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear, “But my Solstice present to you is letting you do whatever you want to me tonight.”

Elain shot up from his lap, leaving him laughing behind her. She sought out Nuala and Cerridwen to see if they needed help completing dinner. They told her it would only be a few moments, but she helped them anyway.

Dinner was the usual, Nyx throwing food at his Uncle Cassian, Nesta scolding Cassian for throwing food back. Amren ignoring Mor’s bargain for her jewelry. Feyre and Rhys talking mind to mind as though they think no one knows they’re actually fucking in there at inappropriate times. Like at the dinner table. But Elain didn’t care because she kept stealing glances at Lucien, her mate staring at her right back.

As soon as they were done eating, Elain bid a quick farewell, pulling Lucien behind her. She ignored the cheering that came from Rhysand and Cassian. She was beyond caring at this point. That primal need to take her mate wherever and whenever was still strong. When they reached their room on the far end of the estate, Elain wasted no time pushing her mate against the door and claiming his mouth with hers.

Lucien’s gift to her was for her to take charge, and that was exactly what she planned to do. She reached between them to his belt, pulling it free without breaking the connection of their lips. She palmed him through his trousers, eliciting a groan from both of them. He was already hard, already ready for her.

Next came the buttons of his shirt. Elain began at the top, trailing kisses down his neck, lingering on the wild pulse beneath his skin. With each pop of a button, her lips moved lower and lower. She traced her tongue along the ridges of his chiseled abs. Elain straightened and removed his shirt before pulling him towards the bed.

The bed was already equipped with leather straps tied to the headboard, set up earlier when she excused herself to freshen up. Lucien looked from the bed to Elain, eyes wide with confusion--and need. Elain only pushed him to lay down on the bed and said, “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

Once he was settled in the center of the bed, Elain straddled him, hissing as her bare center made contact with his chiseled abdomen, her dress pooling around her. As she made quick work of the straps around his wrists, Lucien growled, “Were you not wearing underwear all night, Elain?” He growled as she nodded in confirmation. “Take off your dress, love,” he commanded.

But Elain wasn't having that.

“Uh uh,” she tutted, lifting herself to her knees. “No talking.” She silenced him completely, gripping the headboard with one hand, her dress in the other so that she could sit on his face. Her mate didn’t hesitate, plunging his tongue deep into her molten core. Elain didn't bother suppressing her moans as he devoured her like a starved man. She rocked back and forth, the feel of his mouth on her igniting the fire in her veins.

Elain ground harder, chasing the release that was already so close after a night of teasing. Her mate must have known she was already on the precipice of falling because he sped up his ministrations.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, “Make me come, Lucien, I need to come.” He made a long swipe of his tongue from her ass to her clit, nipping at her sensitive nub with his teeth. The pain mixed with pleasure sent her crashing over the edge. She screamed through her release, but Lucien’s tongue never stopped helping her ride the wave.

Breathing heavy, she climbed down and kissed him deeply, groaning as she tasted herself on his lips. Already, she was wanting more, aching to be filled. She adjusted her hips until she felt his rock hard length against her entrance. Supporting herself with her arms, she stared down into her mate’s russet eye as she sank down, down, down, filling her completely with his cock. They both groaned in pleasure, the bond between them lit with the wanton need for each other.

Seeing his eye filled with molten desire only for her, Elain couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again as she moved her hips up and down, faster and faster. Every slip in and out of her molten channel elicited wanton noises from her throat. “Elain, fuck,” he breathed as she used her inner muscles to clench tight around his cock.

She sat up again, bracing herself with his hands on his solid chest. Despite his hands being tied, Lucien still bent his knees to pound up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. She cried out when he hit that particular spot that had never been hit before she found her mate. Without breaking rhythm, she finally shed her dress, throwing it haphazardly to the floor.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred, taking in every detail of her perfect, cream skin. Elain reached over to their new box of goodies and returned with a small device that vibrated in her hand. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she brought the toy to where they were still joined, still moving. She could hardly describe the sensation that came when the vibrations made contact with her clit, her screams filling the room as her body tensed with her release. “Elain!” Lucien roared as he followed her into the abyss, filling her with his seed. Lucien struggled against his bonds, squirming against Elain as she held that vibrating device between them until she could no longer handle it.

Elain collapsed next to Lucien, breathing hard and groaning at the emptiness she felt. “That was…” she trailed off.

“Amazing,” her mate finished for her, breathing just as heavily.

Elain propped herself up on an elbow and leaned forward to claim Lucien’s lips with her own. Through their kiss, she could feel all the love he felt for her and channeled it right back. His tongue demanded entrance and she happily obliged, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. They were a clash of tongues and teeth until Elain reached up and undid the straps restraining her mate.

But before he could grab her and pull her close like he so desperately wanted, she grabbed his wrists and whispered, “Did you think I was done with you already?” Without waiting for a response she climbed off the bed, commanding him to get on his hands on his knees. He raised his brow at her, but listened. He moved slowly, she noticed with no small amount of pleasure.

She felt powerful, taking what she wanted from him. They are equals in every way, including in their bed, but the feeling of being in control of each move has caused her to be aroused all over again. Elain reached for the box from Helion, feeling Lucien watching her as she lifted that contraption of straps and buckles. She made quick work of securing it to her waist before climbing behind her mate on the bed.

Using a tube of lubricant she found in the box, she lathered the rubber length, and then used her finger to tease Lucien’s rear end. He stiffened at first, but didn’t pull away as she inched the tip of her finger in. Lucien moaned, and Elain told him, “Let me know if this is too much, okay?” Lucien nodded and pushed back on her fingers. After pumping one in a few times, she added a second--and then a third. “Are you ready?” she asked, removing her fingers.

Lucien lifted up on his arms and looked over his shoulder at Elain as she lined himself up to his back entrance. She made eye contact with him, waiting for him to give permission. She may be in charge here, but she wasn’t going to go any farther if he didn’t want to.

But her mate, her wonderful, sexy mate said, “Fuck me, Elain.” And so she did.

Guiding herself in, she went slowly at first, stopping when Lucien dropped to his elbows when his ass snapped around the head of rubber. He was panting, so she stayed still, searing this image of her mate on his knees before her into her mind. After a few seconds, Lucien adjusted and pushed back, urging her on.

She pushed in more, more, more until she was buried all the way to the hilt in her mate’s fine ass. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Full,” he laughed, then moaned from the movement. “But… I think I like it.” He looked over his shoulder and repeated his words from before. “Do your worst, flower.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled out almost all the way and pushed back in, faster this time, again and again until she found a pounding rhythm. Her earlier vision came to life as Lucien yelled into the pillows, clenching the soft sheets in his fists.

Powerful--this was power. She gripped her mate’s hips and increased her speed, snapping her hips against his. Elain leaned forward and pressed kisses to his spine, the way he likes to do to her. In this position, she formed a wicked idea in her head and reached around his body. Finding his cock, unsurprised to discover it’s hard again, she worked him with her hand as she fucked him from behind.

Lucien’s screams intensified as he approached his impending orgasm. She grabbed a fistful of his red hair, forcing his back to bend. “Do you want to come, my love?” He grunted in response, but she said, “I need to hear you say it.”

Lucien turned his head to the side against her grip, panting, “Please, Elain. I need to come.” He locked eyes with her, his pupil dilated further than she’s ever seen. “Please.”

Satisfied, Elain cupped his balls and squeezed before stroking him again in time with her thrusts. In no time, she felt Lucien’s body seized beneath her, spilling his seed onto the sheets with a groan. She milked his cock with her hand until she was finished and pulled out, eliciting a strained moan from her mate. She let go of his hair so that he could until he could collapse on his stomach, careful to avoid the puddle of fluid left behind.

Quickly removing the strapped contraption, Elain joined her mate on the bed, happily falling into his outstretched arms. She peppered his face with kisses to coax him down from his high. Eventually, he opened his eyes, the metal whirring as his brain tried to function once more.

“Good?” she asked demurely.

“We’re doing that again,” he growled.

And two more times that night, they did. When they were finally satiated for the time being, Elain fell asleep in her mate’s arms as he whispered, “I love you,” against her hair.

---

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to/taken off my general SJM tag list just send me an ask and be sure to include the fandom! i’m very good at losing them in the comments. love y’all! *bold tags didn’t work*

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[hopesangelsprite]

Sin City | KSJ (1/?)

Pairing: Demon!Receptionist!Seokjin x Reader

Summary: In a world were angels and demons co-exist with humans, an angel meets the most beautiful yet dangerous demon in the world... her brother’s bestfriend. (Slight crack tbh)

There were three kinds of people in this world:

Angels. Demons. And Humans.

Angels were pure-hearted, kind souls who spent their days bringing joy and purpose to peoples’ lives. They were generous and caring, but, most importantly, they were accepting. No matter who or what you were, they didn’t care. They loved you all the same.

Demons, however, were opposites of Angels. They were known for causing mischief and discord. The nights and shadowy places were where they thrived the most. They were top-notch manipulators, whispering lies and truths here and there. Making it impossible to tell which was which.

Humans were just… in between. They were neither good nor bad. They could be moral when they wanted to be, but if they wanted something and you stood in their way, they proved to be incredibly ruthless. The lives of Humans tended to be influenced by the people they lived with. A Human, who was around more angelic folk, was more compassionate and benign. Humans who held the company of the more demonic sort were mostly cruel and malevolent.

Cadence King was born a pureblooded Angel to Nicolai and Charity King during the Winter Solstice of 2002. Unlike her dark-haired and brown-eyed parents, she had snow-white curls and mismatched blue and green eyes. Her mother, who had been told that she was physically incapable of bearing a child and thought that her caring Cadence was a miracle from Heaven above, was ecstatic when she held her tiny baby girl for the first time. The couple vowed to raise her as lovingly as they possibly could.

And they did… until a fateful summers night in Daegu stole them away from this world. Mr. and Mrs. King had been killed in a mugging, leaving poor little Cadence orphaned and alone on the night of her fifth birthday. There were no living relatives to take her in, so she was placed into foster care with the Min family.

The Mins were a four people family that consisted of Mr. Min, Mrs. Min, and their sons, Junki and Yoongi. Although the Mins were Demons, they accepted Cadence into their family and treated her like she was their own. Junki and Yoongi, who were 17 and 15 at the time, watched over her as overprotective brothers tend to do. They taught her all kinds of Martial Arts and made sure that she was able to defend herself when it was time for them to leave for college a few years later.

Mr. and Mrs. Min focused all of their time and resources on Cadence’s training and studies after their youngest son, Yoongi, left to study music in the city. They raised her to be a responsible and thoughtful child. She was obedient, kind, and beloved by all who knew her. As she grew older, she remained well-mannered and intelligent. Soon, it would be time for her to leave home just as her brothers before her had.

* TIME SKIP TO PRESENT DAY / THE REST OF THE STORY WILL BE IN CADENCE’S POV *

I stared out the train’s large window in boredom. Trees and meadows passed by in green blurs as we zoomed through the countryside. Earlier this morning, my mother and father had helped me finish packing my suitcases and put me on the train with sweet goodbye, from my mom, and a stern ‘be careful’, from my dad. I had finally turned 18 a week ago, and mom and dad made a phone call to Yoongi asking if I would be able to stay with him in Seoul. He’d agreed and now I was 15 minutes away from seeing the brother I hadn’t seen in 10 years. Yoongi had left on bad terms and he promised to stay away until he was ready to come home. Yoongi was always good at keeping his promises.

I sighed before unlocking my phone and checking my recent messages. As usual, they were filled with threats from my crazy ex I’d dated when I was 16. It started pretty well until he hit me. He promised he’d never do it again, but he did over and over and over again. After the eighth time, I left him for good and told him that if he ever came near again, he’d have my brothers to deal with. He stayed away physically but continued to threaten me to come back to him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’ll be arriving at Seoul National Station in five minutes. I repeat, five minutes.”, the voice of the elderly conductor informed from above. As if on cue, a message from Yoongi came through saying that he wouldn’t be picking me up because of his daily 3:45 nap. I rolled my eyes and began readying myself for the exit soon to come.

Within the next ten minutes, I was in a cab on my way to Yoongi’s. The city of Seoul was beautiful and diverse in many ways. Groups of Angels, Demons, and Humans socialized amongst each other peacefully. Street performers attracted cheering crowds and healthy tips. Food trucks and venues filled areas with delicious smells and dishes. A small bit of happiness filled my chest. This was my new home!

Soon the cab stopped at a luxury condo in the heart of the city. After paying my fare, I collected my things and made my way inside. At the front desk, a beautiful receptionist sat quietly clicking on the keys of his keyboard. I walked to the desk causing him to lift his head and display a million-dollar smile. “Hello, love. Welcome to Seoul Condominiums, how may I help you today?”, he inquired in a velvety voice. “Hi… Seokjin! I-I’m here to see my brother Min Yoongi.”, I responded softly after reading his nametag receiving a nod from him.

He picked up a sleek black phone from the desk and, after punching in a few numbers, put it to his ear. After a short wait, he spoke into the phone. “Hello, Mr. Min!... Your sister is here to see you. Shall I send her up?... Of course, Mr. Min.”, he spoke. Giving me a bright smile, he put the phone back and smiled. “Up you go, love. He’s in suite 777.”, he informed before helping me into the elevator. After a short ride, I found myself in front of a door that had the number ‘777’ in beautiful gold font displayed on it. I knocked but received no answer. I raised my hand to knock again, but as soon as my fist collided with the door, it slightly opened.

I frowned in confusion and worry before opening it fully and dragging my luggage in. I looked around in the beautifully furnished condo, hoping to catch a glimpse of my older brother. “Hello? Yoongi? Where are you?!”, I called out whilst taking a step forward. The hairs on my neck stood to attention and adrenaline filled my veins. I quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding being tackled by a dark hooded figure. I dropped to the ground and put my knee on the person’s chest before unmasking them.

Underneath me laid a very pale and very proud male. “Looks like you maintained your training pretty well, little one.”, Yoongi drawled out in a voice that I didn’t recognize. I stood and assisted him in getting to his feet before taking his face in my hands. I gazed at the boy who used to have chubby cheeks and horrible acne. Now his face was strong and defined with pale, clear skin. He was a bit taller, too.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Yoonie?”, I asked with a soft smile. He chuckled before pulling me into a warm hug. “I missed you too, little one.”, he cooed. I sighed with content before pulling away smacking his arm and glaring. “Don’t ever try to scare me again. I could’ve hurt you, bro.”, I demanded causing him to chuckle and roll his eyes.

After picking up my luggage for me and leading to my new room, Yoongi helped me unpack my stuff. It went relatively fast mostly because I didn’t have a lot of stuff. I sat on my bed and looked around. The room was twice as large as my old bedroom with a connecting bathroom. Yoongi had had it painted baby blue, and he’d personally hung little cotton clouds from the ceiling that glowed a soft blue. He’d gotten me a large California King canopy bed with white curtains and a blue bed set to match the walls. He’d even installed Tik Tok lights!

“You did this all on your own?”, I asked. He nodded and sat in the hanging egg chair across from my bed. “I had a little help from a friend with choosing the color scheme, but it was mostly me. I don’t know if mom and dad told you this, but I’m gonna spoil the hell out of you here. Just a small warning before.”, he spoke proudly. I chuckled and nodded.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, “Come out, you sleepy bastard! I brought you food that I slaved over, so you better be hungry.”. Yoongi stood and pulled me up afterward before dragging me into the spacious living area. There stood the handsome receptionist from earlier. Instead of his work attire, he was dressed in black ripped jeans and a pastel pink button up. His hair had changed, too. The blonde tresses had been transformed from a sleek and elegant look to messy bangs that screamed danger.

Upon our entrance, he glared at Yoongi. “There you are! Boy, do I have words for you. Did you make your sister carry all that heavy shit from the train station?! I know damn good and well I raised a gentleman and most definitely not a fool!”, he raved angrily. Yoongi muttered something along the lines of ‘loud-mouth ass’ causing the blonde to pause his rant and look at Yoongi with wild and incredulous eyes. “Did… did you just BACKTALK ME?!! AH HELL NAH! UH UH! NO! NOT TODAY! I’M FINNA WHOOP YO ASS RIGHT NOW!!!”, he snapped before setting the bags down and lunging at my brother.

I stepped aside and watched as he put my brother in a chokehold whilst pulling his hair. “Cadence! Help! Me!”, Yoongi managed to choke out causing his attacker to look around until his eyes met mine. He paused before dropping my brother and approaching me. “I’m so sorry you had to witness that, love! I’m Seokjin, by the way. Welcome to Sin City on behalf of me! Let’s have lunch together sometime!”, he spoke before reaching down to grasp my hand before pressing a kiss to it.

What the actual fuck had I gotten myself into?

(A/N):

Should I turn this into a series? Lemme know if I should!! Please like, share, and comment your thoughts!

[abstracthappiness]

microfiction, June 20 - 26

The ship crash-landed days ago, all the doors jammed shut, no escape. Maybe I’m already dead, she thinks, a ghost haunting this ship, buried in the middle of a crater. She’s desperate enough to pray—and then there’s a knock at the one exposed window.

-

—Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to make a chain that can hold a god? —Ten years and a day. —Huh—plus a fool’s luck. —I know that well enough. I’ve done it once before.

-

We inked our hatred on each other’s skin; black tattoos of thorns and chains, sealing the feud with blood. Little by little, the hate burned out. Buds of color grew between the links, the thorns. When we finally kissed, an entire garden bloomed on our bodies.

-

One hour left until sunset, until we deal with hellspawn breaking through the barricade like candy floss. All we have on our side are a pissed off ghost, a starved vampire, and me—a witch with glitchy powers and silver in her blood.

-

We were allowed to go outside at night only because of a charm Gram would make. Dried flowers, pebbles, and the secret ingredient: bone dust, she whispered on her death bed. “Grind it at sunrise on the summer solstice, you’ll be safe from the night beasties.”

-

She was born to be an empress; now she’s just a girl in a summer dress, levitating in a field of poppies. Her crown is buried somewhere around here, but as she hums and dances over the flowers, she doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care…

-

You dreamed that you died. You wake with the scent of roses choking you. You are in a garden, a unicorn grazing nearby. It eyes you with what looks like pity. You curse. You are back in Haven, the last place you want to be.

-

You check in to the Dream Hotel; room service brings your usual request. The note reads: Your adventure is ready, please put the marble under your pillow, and sleep. But as you tumble down in the dream, you realize this scenario was meant for someone else.

-

There is no sun today. Agatha came down from the moor and called up a storm. She’s aiming lightning bolts at a foolish lad who broke her heart. At least he can dodge better than that foppish Duke, who thought he could ride into town and buy the heart of a witch.

-

“You cannot see your future in a pile of wet leaves,” says the golden fox with two tails. ��Better to swim to the middle of a lake, look to the sky, and see what the wind whispers.” The Doll frowns over her teacup. “I cannot swim,” she says. “Well,” the fox sighs.

-

She’s at the #Dollar Store. She’ll tell you what to bring in exchange. Like: the lipstick your mom wore ten years ago. A key to your first apartment. The last note your girlfriend wrote before leaving you. You know what you’re asking for. Payment has to be an impossible thing.

-

Love made her monstrous—awakened a hunger in her belly, made her scream at the moon. Any other lover would have run away, but their wildness matched—tooth for tooth, claw for claw, kiss for kiss.

-

Humanity spread itself across the galaxy, until they forgot all about Earth. The near extinct wildlife flourished once again, and lived in harmony with the obsolete robots left behind.

-

I didn’t want to leave my hometown; I wanted a quiet, easy life. Not a lot to ask, is it? But my trainer was being difficult. “You’re going to save the world if i have to kick your ass all the way to the Capital!” she growled. I sighed. It was hard being the Chosen One.

-

The stars above, they are silent. She waits, a wraith in white. Tendrils of ivy washed silver in the moonlight; this midnight garden crumbles around her. She’s been waiting a hundred years. Oh, the things we do for love. The stars above, they are shrieking.

-

You’re driving through the mountains. There’s a woman in the passenger seat with the face of an owl. She is weeping. “The crash is coming,” she says, “again.” Sudden headlights blind you, the sound of shattering glass, then nothing—

You’re driving through the mountains.

//

read more on twitter: kattra | prompts: vss365 / whistpr / 2WordPrompt / FromOneLine / SciFiFri

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [928]

“Mother. Father. Assembled members of the my extended family, I’ve gathered you all here today with some very important, and possibly stressful, revelations I must impart upon you.”

“Ellana, love, you didn’t gather us, it’s winter solstice. The weather did.” Grandpa Muriel pats her hand with his, a soft and gentle touch reminiscent of having a moth land on you. He blinks his eyes, looking quite sleepy and satisfied with the current state of his life. Current state being sitting by the fireplace with a heavy knitted blanket over his lap, a nice cup of mulled wine, and the the sound of some infernal demon being ripped apart into wet, messy shreds by one of several magical beasts loyal the the house Lavellan just outside the walls. Grandpa takes a sip of his wine, tucking in deeper into the soft couch cushions.

Elllana kisses the few strands of wispy white hair on top of his head.

“Yes, but while you’re all here to ride out the annual winter solstice demon and various sundry of malicious attacks upon our house I’ve called you all to be in this very same room with me to hear my announcement.”

“Announcement or revelation, get your story straight,” Mahanon says, in the middle of watching a truly impressive chess match between one of their cousins and a great-aunt who’s missing an eye, almost all of her teeth, and hasn’t slept through a night in over thirty years.

“It can be both,” Ellana says. “Are you lot even paying attention?”

“Of course we are, dear,” Mother says. But she sounds incredibly distracted given that she’s in the middle of double checking the defensive runes and wards around one of the heavily barricaded windows. “Go on with your recital.”

“It’s not a recital, mother!” Ellana sighs, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. She pauses and frowns at the ceiling and points a finger up at one of her nephews. “Hey! Off! We just had that ceiling cleaned and I know you didn’t wash your hands like you were supposed to after dinner. Down! Don’t make me go up there. You know you won’t like it if I do.”

“What’s the announcement? Get it over with,” Preya yells from the other room.

“Let her go at her own pace!” Preya’s mother, Linnea snaps back from another room. “Remember when you told everyone about your accidental demonic portal creation? Ellana waited for you to say it on your own time without interrupting. And you summoned it right outside of her bedroom window!”

“Go on, love,” father says, coming into the room bearing a great tray full of mead, “What’s on your mind?”

“I,” Ellana says, snagging one of the mugs with warm mead, “Am no longer going to be a a monster tamer and spirit summoner.” Ellana squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “From this moment forward I am a wizard.”

Father drops the tray, sending mead spilling across rugs older than most of the members of this house combined.

He also immediately faints. No one catches him.

Grandpa’s mouth is hanging open and he looks like she’d just slapped him. Twice. Backhanded.

Ellana raises a hand and casts a spell to catch her nephew as he falls from the ceiling.

There’s a thump from the other room, who could be anyone fainting.

Mother’s put a hand to her head and is leaning against the wall to support her weight.

Mahanon looks as though he’s been delivered a mortal blow.

Preya skids into the room followed by about thirteen more of Ellana’s various cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, and uncles.

“A wizard?” They all scream at once in various shades of outraged, shocked, and deeply disgusted.

Descending upon all of them from the stairs like the wrath of a newly created god is great-great-great grandmother Vera on the arm of great-great-uncle Parvel.

“There are no wizards in this house,” Nana Vera booms out, slamming her cane onto the floor to punctuate her outrage. “House Lavellan has a proud and ancient lineage going back hundreds of years as summoners of spirits and tamers of wild beast. We do not — “ she sneers, “rely upon the magics of simple shellwork and theory.”

Mahanon looks directly at Ellana. “Is this about…him?”

“Who’s him?” Mother asks, eyes closed.

“Her new boyfriend,” Mahanon replies. Ellana nudges her father with her foot so he’s not on his face. “They met when she was visiting her witch and wizard and whatever friends at that pretentious tower of theirs.”

“We live in a fortress slash barn, I don’t think we’ve got any room to talk.”

“They’ve been seeing each other for about a year now,” Mahanon continues.

“Tell me he isn’t a witch or wizard or anything of the sort,” Nana Vera says as more relatives start to filter in from the adjoining rooms.

“Oh, no, he’s a fighter,” Mahanon says.

“Shouldn’t I be the one talking about him?” Ellana asks. “Are you stealing my announcement?”

“You waited a year for this to get the dramatic timing right,” Mahanon replies, “I’ve had to put up with you planning this for a whole year. I get to interfere where I want to. I earned this.”

Ellana huffs, sips her mead, and then bends down to slap her father awake.

“He’s…mundane?” Grandpa Muriel asks quietly, voice trembling with uncertainty. “Is that the word they’re using now? Mundane?”

“Yes, Grandpa,” Preya says, starting to gather the dropped cups. “Gods, we’ll never get these carpets clean.”

“Not with that attitude,” Aunt Linnea says, swirling her hand and reciting softly under her breath to conjure a minor water elemental.

“He prefers to be called the Iron Bull, he’s Qunari,” Ellana says.

There’s another thump and Ellana looks up in time to see that their mother has joined their father in the realm of unconscious bliss.

“He makes me laugh,” Ellana continues. “And I’m going to be a wizard because I rather think that being a wizard would be more useful when one is going on quests and adventures than being a magical beast tamer.  When one is on the road one does not have the best of opportunities to see to the proper maintenance and care of a magical creature after all. Also? Wizards are able to register at adventurer’s guilds. Oh, don’t worry. I already had myself assessed. I can definitely be a wizard.”

[the-omni-princess]

Frozen Heart [Chapter 6]

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:  After the war against Hydra, King Bucky comes home to take what has been promised to him since he was young, you. But he is not the same person as the young boy that you grew up with. Can she break through his tough shell and bring back the young man she once fell in love with? Or will she be forced to marry the monster everyone thinks he’s become?

Word Count: 3.7K

Pairing: King!Bucky x Fem!Reader (Royalty Au!)

Warnings:  language, reader is a badass, bit of blood, violence, bit of fluff

A/N:

Small cliffhanger, but I’m leaving on vacation on Wednesday with no wifi, so I’m determined to write this chapter today and post it asap!! Was gonna add it to this chapter but it was getting wordy so… it was also like 2 am when I’m rereading/posting this so be nice, please.

[Series Masterlist]  [Masterlist]

----

The ride to the Northern Kingdom was faster than you remembered from your childhood, though you attributed that to the fact it was snowing the last time you were there. Though it was still summer, the Northern climate differed greatly from where you grew up. You knew as the months pressed on you would find yourself buried in blankets, sitting beside the fire, drinking hot cocoa, perhaps snuggled up alongside Bucky. The thought made you smile, your head currently pressed against Bucky’s shoulder, looking out the window towards the passing scenery.

“Penny for your thoughts, my Love? You’ve been quiet most of the way out of the South, and we are nearing more villages of the North.” Bucky whispered softly, his free hand was rubbing circles against your thigh, as you clung to his other arm.

You shrugged lazily, not wanting to move too far away from his body heat, “Thinking of the future, mostly how cold I’m going to be once the winter’s storms hit.”

He chuckled, the vibrations sending warmth throughout your body. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll keep you nice and toasty, bundled up in the thickest furs and wools I can find.” He kissed the top of your head tenderly. “You should have seen the first winter during the war, Stevie would not shut up, he was convinced he would get hypothermia despite all of the Howlies giving him their furs.” You looked up towards him, leaning towards him to hear more. He was smiling fondly, his eyes looking off in the distance as he reminisced of the few and fleeting joyful moments during the war. His attention, however, was caught by the flags waving in the distance as the limo closed into the town.

As you drove through the community, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. It was certainly different from the villages in your kingdom, most of these houses were reinforced for snow and ice, and they had the added feature of chimneys. Flags of the country seal adorned taverns and shop windows as the limo leisurely moved along the street. Wolves were a common theme around the kingdom, as were the kingdom colors, greys, blues, and silvers were the usual colors you saw in most signs.

“Bucky? I want you to teach me everything about your kingdom, I want to know your people, please,” you murmured softly, enchanted by the circle of dancers, merrily dancing with the people. It was late in the morning, closing in on high noon, one of the times you were aware was a powerful time for healers, who believed in the connections between the heavens and the humans below.

Bucky was grinning like an idiot beside you, and although you didn’t know it, he was only looking at your awed expression, determined to memorize your features. “Well, let’s start now,” he pointed towards the dancers, “it’s almost high noon, so those healers are dancing to the sun god to pray for healing. The summer solstice is almost upon us, so they are going through a physical and spiritual test as a sacrifice to the gods. The bigger circles are most likely family members and friends, dancing in support and for fun, while the smaller circle are the actual healers.” He pushed a stray hair behind your ear delicately as he spoke. Your breath caught in your throat meekly, you looked over your shoulder towards him, unconsciously looking up at him through your eyelashes as you gave him a bright smile. He felt his heart stutter, blushing as he continued. “We should switch to the horses soon, My Love. It’ll give you the chance to be up close and personal with the people if you want.” Your responding smile made his entire chest feel fuzzy with a feeling he couldn’t quite place, one that had been happening more frequently around you.

“I’d love that, Bucky, when can we make the switch? Poor Dermot is probably bored sick being pent-up.” You sat up straighter, excited to go riding again, grateful you decided on denim pants and an elegant blouse for the ride to the North.

“Dermot?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Dermot! My horse! His name comes from a hero in my kingdom’s mythology, it means Freedom. Riding was one of the few times I was allowed outside the castle walls, so that horse quickly became my freedom, plus it helps that he has a wild personality. The horse keeper says I’m the only rider he won’t kick-off.” His heart sunk at your words, despite your giddy smile. While an apt name indeed, its implications were that you were reduced to be some princess in the castle waiting for the war to end despite the advancements for equality in your kingdom.

He quickly recovered, determination to show you a newfound freedom building in his heart. “Well, doll, in the North, we can ride whenever your heart desires,” he promised, kissing your temple, not noticing the look of pure wonder you gave him at his words.

“Can we switch to the horse now? Please? I know we aren’t too far from the palace grounds, and you can show me all your favorite riding spots once we get there, if the sun allows it!” Your excitement was bubbling over, making Bucky laugh in amusement.

“Of course, my Queen. Whatever your heart desires, it shall be my pleasure to give you.” He vowed, the two of you wearing matching grins. He tapped on the tinted window separating the drivers from the two of you. As the window slipped down, you saw Scott and Sam were in the front, no doubt joking around, evident by the smirk on Sam’s face. “Scott, pull over at the next clearing, the Princess and I will be switching to the horses.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” Scott replied, shooting you a smile through the rearview mirror, Sam already sending someone texts on his security issued phone as the window rolled back up.

A few minutes later the village clear way to a thick forest, which lead to a meadow clearing. The limo stopped, and Bucky was quick to step out, already offering you his hand before you could speak. You smiled warmly, taking his assistance to your feet. He noticed the way you lit up as Dermot was taken out of the travel stable, running towards your horse, who was already saddled and getting antsy. Sam mildly nudged Bucky’s shoulder, the two having become friendly since Bucky had the tendency to gravitate towards you while staying in the South, and Sam was your personal guard. “You should hurry up, she’s gonna leave you in the dust,” Sam goaded, sending you a wave which you happily returned before you jumped up into the saddle like a pro.

Bucky rolled his eyes, not dignifying the man with a response and heading towards his own horse, Nova, who was also saddled. With a small huff, he was in the saddle, smiling shyly towards you. “Shall I lead the way, my Love?”

You quickly nodded, mocking a bow while taking hold of Dermot’s reigns, “Why of course, my King,” You teased.

-

The two of you rode through a few more villages as high noon came and went, taking a few short breaks for the horses’ sake. On one such break, you and Bucky were leaning against a tavern wall, the royal guards doing a decent job of turning unaware citizen to leave you two alone while the horses had water and snacks behind the tavern in a nearby stable. The two of you weren’t talking about much, Bucky was currently telling you of his plans to show you the entire castle grounds.

“Of course, as Queen, you’ll be allowed anywhere in the palace, as it’ll be your home with a little bit of time,” he expressed, sending small smiles towards you. You were about to respond when something out of the corner of your eyeline caught your attention. Always one to trust your instincts, you looked towards the flash. A young woman was cornered, two young men, no doubt only slightly older than her, were tugging at her purse as she cried out. They were pretty well hidden in the small alleyway, but it was broad daylight, and yet they were still robbing her.

Bucky had noticed your silence, quickly following your eyesight to the scene, anger filling his body. The crime rate of the kingdom had gone down significantly since he began his rule, but it was your first day and you were already witnessing the dark parts of the country. No one was making a move to help the poor girl, another thought that sent more rage through Bucky. Yet, as he was about to take a step towards the three, determined to end the scene, he was stunned to see you already stomping your way across the street to defend the woman. His eyes followed you, momentarily too dumbfounded to follow you.

As you approached, you could hear the insults the men were using, degrading the woman as she struggled against them for her purse, it only fueled your fury. “Hey!” you seethed, venom dripping from the single word. The men glanced towards you, both a bit shocked to see a woman fuming at them. The woman looked towards her savior, jumping slightly as the men laughed, clearly not taking you seriously.

“Aw! What are you going to do, little one? You should scram before your father sees you, or worse!” One of the men sneered, their attentions diverting from the woman, who had fallen to the ground.

“Yeah! We wouldn’t want your daddy to find you curled up on the street like a bitch,” the other man snickered. That is what cleared Bucky’s momentary paralysis, now heading towards you, though he was a moment too slow.

You growled lowly at the back of your throat and lunged for one of the men, pulling him off the woman before snapping your fist back, straight into his nose. Pain radiated up your knuckles, but it was dulled as the adrenaline started to kick in, making your moves slower. You spun on your heel, your elbow hitting the other man square in the jaw. One swift quick to the crotch and both men were falling to the ground, clutching either their face or their groins. A satisfied smirk on your face, you quickly turned to the woman who looked awestruck up at you. You offered her your unbloodied hand, “Are you hurt?” you quickly asked as you helped her to her feet. She quickly shook her head, still too shocked to speak. “Deep breaths then, it’ll calm the shock down.”

Someone whistled at the corner of the alleyway behind you, you quickly spun, already placing yourself between the sound and the woman before relaxing. Bucky, Sam, and Scott were standing there, watching you with matching smirks. Sam, who knew of your skill, was incredibly proud, “Damn y/n, we were gone for a few minutes,” you shrugged, a small grin on your face.

Bucky grinned up towards you, sparing a second glance at the two men still laying on the ground, both had bloody faces. “I’m both incredibly impressed and terribly aroused,” he muttered, locked onto your eyes as you blushed.

“It was nothing, Nat’s been teaching me. You didn’t think those assassins were taken down by Sam, did you? Nat and I took ‘em down,” you grinned proudly, excitedly showing off, Bucky gave you a childish grin in response, though Sam sent you a playful glare.

The woman behind you squeaked as she saw Bucky, recognizing him as he stepped closer to you. “Y-your Majesty!” She tried to curtsy but almost tumbled, and you caught her with a small smile. Bucky motioned for Sam and Scott to grab the two men, who gladly grabbed them.

“Don’t worry about it, are you alright?” He asked, true concern for the unknown woman.

She quickly nodded, “Thanks to her, Your Majesty!” she averted her eyes from him, trying to show respect as she clung to you for support

“That would be y/n, my fiancé, and your future Queen,” you shot him a glare, he was teasing the poor woman, who was still recovering from shock. She yelped, trying to pull from your arms to try to curtsy again, mortified she was treating her future queen with such disrespect.

You gripped onto the woman, determined not to let her fall on her face, “Now, now, no need for all of that. Are you truly alright? What was your name?” You still shot Bucky a disapproving glare at his antics, he just grinned, responding with a playful smirk.

“Y-yes, Your Highness. My name’s So-Sophia,” She rushed out, still terrified.

You gently soothed her, brushing the dirt off her dress, “It’s alright Sophia, I’m a princess but I’m still human, no need to go senseless on me. Now, where you going when you were attacked.”

“The market, Your Highness,” Sophia didn’t drop the title, but she was in shock, so you let it go.

“Perfect, I’ll send one of the guards to accompany you there then back home, until you’re safe, alright Sophia?” You gently fixed her cloak, still smiling supportively towards her.

She shook her head, “It’s alright, milady, I’ll be fine. Thank you so much for your generosity, and for saving me.” She looked a bit more stable, the shock most likely dying down.

“Of course, my job isn’t just to lead the people, it’s to protect them. I am only doing what is right. If that’s all, and you’re sure you would be fine alone again, then I wish you safe travels and a wonderful rest of your day.” You let your hands drop from her sides, done fixing her up.

Sophia grinned and nodded quickly, “Of course, Your Highness, you as well, gods bless you,” she walked past Bucky, quickly curtsying with a “Your Majesty,” before disappearing into the crowds.

Bucky whistled again in awe, a cheeky grin on his face, “You’re a natural, and that right hook! Gods you’re perfect,” he said in wonder. You hissed softly, pain radiating from your knuckles now that the adrenaline was wearing off. He quickly came closer, picking up your hand delicately. Your knuckles were bloody, a small cut on them but most of the blood was from the men, and the beginning of a bruise was discoloring the skin. He pressed a soft kiss to your palm, “Let’s get you cleaned up and go home,” he led you back out the alley, holding your hand to his chest protectively.

“Bucky, my hand is fine, should be more worried about that guy’s face, I hit him with the royal ring without realizing it.” He looked again towards your hand, sure enough, your golden ring was splattered with a bit of blood.

He chuckled, “Gods you’re absolutely amazing,” he mumbled, kissing your wrist. He glanced towards your left hand, which only had a simple golden ring on your thumb, a gift from Steve when you were younger. Your ring finger was noticeably empty, but he didn’t say a word about it, already tugging you back towards the horses.

-

A few short hours later, you arrived at the castle grounds. The sun was setting, lighting up the surrounding mountain tops with beautiful shades of pink and purple. You dismounted Dermot, fixing your blouse after handing the reigns to one of the stable keepers, as it was clear you couldn’t ride with the night falling. Bucky did the same, before offering his hand to you. “We’re home, My Queen,” he kissed your temple as you took his hand, happily following him inside.

The guards and maids were lined up, quick to bow to you both, though you noticed they were mostly bowing towards you. You blushed, not used to all the attention, as you were usually just someone who might be on the throne, yet here you were someone who was going to be on the throne. “Please see to it that all of Princess Y/n’s personal belongings are in the Queen’s chambers,” Bucky said to one of the maids, who curtsied with a responded “Your Majesty” before rushing off. He then turned to you, “Would you like to do anything tonight, My Love?” You were too busy taking in the castle, it had been years since you had been here, and it was lovelier than you remembered, but it felt so cold. Not in the literal temperature sense, as it was still summer, but the entire castle walls felt void of something. It took you a few minutes before you realized it, Love.

Turning towards Bucky, you gave him a small smile, “I thought we could get settled in, just relax,” you laced your hands together over your stomach, a habit formed from wearing tight corsets.

Bucky nodded, “Of course.” He offered you his arm, smiling as you took it, following him, arm in arm. “Would you mind sleeping in my bed tonight, doll? I’m dreadfully sorry, but your chambers aren’t ready yet,” he was blushing, bashful.

You giggled, tightening your grip on his arm, “I’d love that.” As Bucky led you through the castle towards his chambers, you noticed how the feeling of dread from the foyer seemed to be a running trend. These walls were simply shelter, not a home. You wanted to change that. Caught up in taking in the empty halls, you didn’t notice you were already at the doors to the king’s chamber. It looked similar to your chambers back home, only these chambers style was darker and much bigger. The size of the room made you felt small, and the fact that there seemed to be minimal decorating made it feel more like a guest room than a permanent residence. The bed was lined with slightly thicker furs than the bed back home. No.you corrected yourself. The bed back in the South. This bed was a navy blue, intricate designs embedded in silver.

You sat on the edge of the bed, Bucky stepping away from you for a moment as you took in the room. Everything in the room screamed of pure ice, sending a small chill down your spine. Determination started to set in your head, you were most definitely changing the pure feeling of dread these palace walls held. The balcony is what caught your attention next, the view outside the windows was of the valley in between the mountains, a lake in the middle, the setting sun reflecting oranges and pinks into the water.

“Y/n/n?” Bucky called out, you turned your head, caught up in the view. He was kneeling on one knee in front of you, gently taking your hand and cleaning the blood off your knuckle from earlier. “The view is beautiful isn’t it?”

“Definitely different than I’m used to, but in a good way. I like it, I’m more of a sunset then sunrise person myself,” you nodded, sending him a small smile.

He grinned, “I’d thought you would like it. Just wait until you see the stars in a few hours.” He finished cleaning off your hand, tossing the towel towards the wastebasket.

“I noticed you didn’t change the castle much since we were younger,” you spoke just above a whisper, wanting to address the distantness the entire place felt like, knowing kings tended to renovate and redecorate the castle once they took the throne.

He lost his smile, sighing softly. “Yeah, it didn’t feel right. I was… a little emotionally distant when I got back.”

“A little?” you teased, making him smile faintly.

“Okay, a lot. Bad headspace, and bad coping mechanisms.” He shrugged, not meeting your eyes as he bit his lip. “I think I should tell you what happened now. All of it.”

You gently took his hands in yours, “Like I said earlier, you don’t have to, and if you do, I’ll be right here for you, My Love.” You spoke firmly, making sure he could hear your conviction.

“Get ready for bed, doll, then I will tell you as much as I can,” he stood, kissing your head lightly before going towards a drawer to change himself. He froze, sighing softly, his hands rubbing his face as he thought aloud, “Your clothes aren’t here yet, are they?”

You laughed, jumping up to stand beside him. “I can borrow some sleepwear, Bucky, relax.” You grabbed one of his shirts, and his pajama pants, already heading towards the bathroom to change. You quickly changed, and after a second of hesitation, decided to take your bra and undergarments off as well. Now, only in panties and Bucky’s oversized shirt, you tried pulling on his pajama pants. You groaned, no matter how tight you pulled the strings, it wouldn’t fit and kept falling. You gave up, folding them and placing them on top of the rest of your clothes.  “Hope you're decent!” you called out before walking out of the bathroom, tugging the oversized shirt down. It hit your midthigh, but you felt exposed, especially as Bucky, now in pajamas as well, looked you up and down, his eyes going dark as he chuckled.

“Pants didn’t fit, huh?” You shook your head with a small shrug. You placed the clothes on the desk in the large room before joining Bucky on the bed. He wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, smiling softly as you nuzzled into the furs. “Before I start to tell you, I just want to warn you. It’s not pretty, and I respect you and don’t want to lie to you or sugar coat it. I’m not sure how much either of us can take before I’ll need to stop, but if it becomes too much, please, let me know?” He gave you a sad smile, holding onto your hands tenderly.

“Bucky, I’m not a child, I can handle it. I promise but promise yourself the same thing, don’t push yourself too far.” You squeezed his hands lightly, giving him your full support and attention.

He nodded, sighing softly as his gaze dropped to your interwoven hands, already putting himself into the headspace needed to tell you the truth. “Then let’s begin, all the way at the beginning.”

----

Frozen Heart Tags:

@jsmith509

@lumar014

@littlemissporter

@kaylaphantomhive

@damnbuckyishot

@aveatquevale-

@booksbeforebois

@marvelgirl7

@minetticatinwonderland

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings

For a tag, just reply/comment, if I don’t see it, just message me. Tell me what you think! Literally, any comment makes me happy! Like, comment, reblog, interact <3

I will be going on vacation for 10 days with no wifi so if I Don't see your comment, MESSAGE ME!!

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph, you wonderful person!! Thank you so much for all the work you put into your blog. It’s such an amazing resource for the fandom! I was wondering if you knew any fics where either John or Sherlock are super!BAMF specifically under the circumstances when the other is threatened. I’d love to read some kind of scenario where one of them is threatened and the other says something along the lines of “if you touch one hair on his head...” Thank you for any suggestions on this theme!

Hi Nonny!

AHHHH I love those kinds of fics! I think I classify those ones under “Protective Johnlock” so it’s sort of… shoved into those ones? LOL. I’ve recently posted a Protective Sherlock list, so you can check out that one, and see these others below! I know I have a tonne more but I am still sorting through all my fics, LOL. So I hope what I have sorted for you, hope that these are what you’re looking for!!

PROTECTIVE JOHNLOCK (BOTH)

See also: 

Protective Sherlock

BAMF! But Insecure John

New World, Old Words by thedeafwriter (G, 641 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Always John) – It was disconcerting to experience. One second, he was laying on the table, breathing in the gas that would make him sleep, the next, he was dragging his eyes open to look around the bright room, trying to wake up.

Idiot by Anesthesiologist (T, 1,229 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Alternate TGG / Explosion, BAMF John, Sherlock Whump, Inner Monologue, John Saves Sherlock, POV Sherlock) – What the heck happened? He remembered the pool and Moriarty, but then what? Had he been dying?

29 January 2017 by wearitcounts (Sher_locked_up) (E, 1,765 w. || Anniversary, First Time, Insecure Sherlock, Love Confessions, Post-S4) – “That,” John says, “should have happened years ago. Maybe even the first time.”

Loudly Unspoken by Mount_Seleya (M, 1,871 w. || Post-TAB, Love Confessions, Vulnerable Sherlock, Frottage) – John confronts Sherlock about the words he left unsaid on the tarmac. Set immediately after TAB

The Rational Machine by Solstice Zero (K, 2,924 w. || Hurt / Comfort, Malnourishment / Fainting, Doctor / Minder John) – Sherlock passes out. John muses on the reasons why. Containing an absorbing case, two bags of shopping, and a few apples.

It Was All Right There In Front of Him (A Five Times Plus One Story) by bees_stories (T, 3,191 w. || 5+1, Protective Idiots, Grooming, Bed Sharing, Lestrade POV) – DI Greg Lestrade is a good detective. But sometimes he doesn’t trust the evidence in front of him, until there’s a compelling reason to do so.

Breakfast, acronyms and brotherhood by Rose de Sharon (K+, 4,074 w. || TBB Fic, Friendship/Bromance, Hurt/Comfort, Protective John, Fluff) – Set after The Blind Banker: my take of Sherlock and John’s conversation over breakfast. S/J friendship, bromance, no slash.

Unforgiven by 221b_hound (M, 4,721 w. || Marriage Proposal, Victor Trevor, Jealous / Protective John, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock’s Past) – Sherlock’s latest case is for his ex boyfriend, the brilliant and handsome Professor Victor Trevor. John is not too happy about that. But things aren’t what they seem, an old friend of John’s is involved in the case, and John has a few surprises up his sleeve. Also - a proposal! Part 16 of Unkissed

The Refining Fire by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 5,451 w. || Post-TGG AU, Angst, Friendship, Alternating POV (Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock), Worried Sherlock, Hospital Recovery) – Fire can burn things to ashes, but it can also burn things together.

Coldness/Heat by agirlsname (E, 3,790 w. || Cuddling & Snuggling, Body Heat, New Year’s Eve, PWP, Bedsharing, Frottage) – The inn is booked up on New Year’s Eve. The train home is cancelled because of the snow. The only option is to sleep in the non-heated guest room of a client, and John and Sherlock are freezing. You know where this is going. Part 1 of New Year’s Kiss

And Here We Are by J_Baillier (T, 12,416 w. || ASiP Fic, Alternating First Person POV, Drama, Friendship, Mild Case Fic, Autism Spectrum Sherlock, Insecure Sherlock, Protective John, Pining, Homophobia, Loneliness, Angst, Humour, Domestics, Morbid Fluff, Kidnapping) – All the little things we never got to see when an army doctor and a consulting detective were adjusting to sharing a flat. And a life.

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

Shuteye Shenanigans by Ayakae (K+, 13,263 w. || Post-TRF, Friendship / Epic Bromance, John’s Nightmares, Angsty Fluff, Bed Sharing, Humour, Cuddles, Taking Care of Each Other, Domestics) – John Watson has never slept with Sherlock Holmes. Never ever ever. And never will, thank you very much. Well, there was that one time, but John didn’t count that. It was completely different, just like the second time it happened. And the third. And the fourth. Epic bromance, but it can be read as pre-slash if you wish.

First Response by Arwen Jade Kenobi (T, 13,516 w. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Five and Ones, Whump / Injury) – Five times John had to perform first aid on Sherlock and one time Sherlock had to perform it on John.

In A Changing Age by allonsys_girl (E, 15,590 w. || Victorian AU, Virgin / Demi Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Mild H/C, Bottomlock) – Sherlock wakes up in the 19th century, with no idea how he got there.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

(Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea by DiscordantWords (M, 39,968 w. || Post S4 Fix It || Grief / Mourning, Victor Trevor, Friendship, Sherlock is Not Okay, Nightmares/Flashbacks/Panic Attacks, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John Comes Home) – Baker Street is very much the same. Only different. And Sherlock is just trying not to drown.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case … and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

The Burning by SrebrnaFH (M, 60,658 w. || Reverse Reichenbach, Suicide, Depression, Hurt Sherlock / John, Separation, BAMF John, Good Big Brother Mycroft, Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Fake Character Death, Rescue Mission, Reconciliation / Reunion, Hospitalization, Marriage Proposal, Illnesses, Physical Therapy, Happily Ever After) – Something went very, very wrong. John had seemed, if not happy, then reasonably content with his life. Sherlock had never predicted something like THIS might have happened. Not in his worst nightmares. He was the lousiest friend ever, apparently. At least Mycroft found him something to occupy his mind with, so that he didn’t have to go back to 221B and stare at the walls and the chair, where John Watson would never sit again.

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller, Switchlock, Rimming, Emotional Lovemaking, Lots of Sex, HJ/BJ’s) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb. Luckily, an art thief tries to drown Sherlock, Sherlock has a fever dream and things are about to change.

[beingatoaster]

Yelkha: 🃏😊🎉🐝; Halifax: 🐇🌊👻💋; Bloom: 🍰💐💳🍑

I’m sorry this took so, SO long, it got lost in my inbox. ;o; But I finally got to it!

Yelkha

🃏 If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

Strength! Both upright and reversed--she’s very stubborn and intense, but also struggles with controlling her anger.

(Specifically in regards to Bryn, I think the High Priestess is most relevant before she realizes It’s Okay To Be Gay, and the Lovers afterward, but that’s more relationship-oriented.)

😊 What do they consider to be their best quality? What actually is their best quality?

I’m pretty sure she thinks her best quality is her bond with animals--the thing that everyone back in the tribe valued her for. And honestly that is pretty high up there? But I think her actual best quality is her willingness to accept new information and change her mind when she’s been proven wrong.

🎉 Do they celebrate any holidays? How do they celebrate?

She probably celebrates most of the old holidays that she did with her tribe! I don’t know what all of them would be, but I think there’s at least a spring holiday related to calving, and a fall holiday about breaking/taming young aurochs in which there’s a lot of riding contests. Away from home she keeps them more quietly, with Gurgiu at first, then letting Bryn in.

Any holiday Bryn tells her about and enjoys, she throws in on 100%. She can’t participate in the religious rites of the solstices and equinoxes, but she’s respectful of them, and anything that’s more festivals and fun she is completely there for.

🐝 What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

Oh, definitely the jocks. Not the tall skinny basketball girls, the tough rough-and-tumble roller derby girls. She’d be the token straight up until she realized that, uh, she wasn’t.

---

Hallifax

🐇 What animal would they say best represents them? 

Crawdad! Little pinchy riverbottom creatures living in the mud and biting anyone who offends them. I hate crawdads, but Hallifax would love them.

🌊 What one place do they really want to visit and why? 

The Plane of Water. She doesn’t expect to actually find any relatives there or anything; she just wants to know what it’s really like. If it’s at all like her mother’s stories or her dad’s garbled, fantasized versions of same.

👻 Do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general? 

Oh, completely. Aside from living in a DnD world, she’s superstitious as hell, even if you posit a non-magic AU. She carries around good luck charms and throws salt over her shoulder and knocks on wood if something makes her nervous and every other little thing she can to keep evil away--she’s got enough haunting her without inviting more.

💋 What traits do they like in other people? What traits do they not like? 

She likes competence, courage, good humor, enough softness to sink into and kiss.... She doesn’t like someone who won’t stand up to her, or mealy-mouths around things, or is too small and shrinking and shy. Gotta be tough on the sea!

---

Bloom

🍰 What’s their favorite food?

Anything honey-based or honey-flavored. It’s the most common sweet in the wild, which means he’s spent a lot of time developing his taste for it.

💐 Do they collect anything? What’s their most prized possession? 

He collects Wild Shapes! :P Bloom doesn’t carry around a lot of physical mementos, he prefers memories and knowledge (songs, how to craft things, etc.) that can be kept in his heart. But he does keep little tokens that are important to him. Probably the most prized thing is a string from his father’s harp, which he keeps tied around his ankle under his leggings, where it’s well-hidden and well-protected. He couldn’t keep anything else of his parents, after the fire, but he and his mother both took one of the old strings, since they couldn’t play it anyway, and by the time they had to sell it they didn’t even think to put them back, just sold it as-is to someone who was probably going to restring and restore it anyway.

💳 What one thing that they don’t need do they waste the most money on? 

Sweets of any kind. As much for Housin and Fifth Red Petal as for himself, but Bloom is the one most likely to go, “we deserve an indulgence,” then go ahead and get it. (Housin can’t mentally do the first step, it’s just beyond how she’s been trained to think, and Fifth Red Petal shares Bloom’s believe in the need to enjoy small pleasures, but is so unused to money and buying that she gets shy about the transaction.) Purely for his own sake, though, probably bread--neither of the others value it as much, and it doesn’t travel well, but a crusty fresh-baked loaf has strong positive memories attached to it.

🍑 Which emoji would they use the most? 

oh my god I can’t seem to send it to myself from my phone in any kind of useful way.... but the sprout emoji.

[punkpoemprose]

Knowing- A Kristanna Week Fic

Universe: Bear Shifter AU Rating: T (Teen & Up for mentions of sex) Length: 893 Words

Slowly but surely working my way through these! I’ve had... a week... but I’m excited to get these fics posted for y’all.

For this REJECTED! KA week prompt I went for “Bear Shifter” which obviously has nothing to do with anything @kristanna or her art account @bearstoff so I won’t tag her in this post... *cough cough* Anyway... This one is short and written a little differently from how I usually write, but I hope you guys like it!

He hadn’t wanted her to know. He hadn’t wanted her to see what became of him on the nights he left her for his cabin.

His gentle reminders that he’d be back by dawn were never enough when she wanted to know why he would be gone. The soft kisses he’d leave her with were his way of keeping the questions at bay, as often there was something in his eyes that hinted at an answer he refused to verbalize. Something wild lived in his eyes and she could see it sometimes, always right before he left.

Know me.

It called to her.

Know me.

And so she arranged a meeting.

She’d been instructed to never follow him, and she told herself that if he would only tell her the truth she could swear to his request of her. But she had no answers and so she sought them. It had been late spring when she had come to him, riding by night, seeing him through the small window of his cabin to find her curiosity emboldened rather than sated.

Know me, know all of me.

His eyes had begged that of her when his mouth had pleaded for the opposite and yet she’d learned that what she knew was nothing. She’d earned a wound on her arm for the effort, more her fault than his own. She’d frightened him, and by morning he’d sworn upon all he was, well and truly all he was, that he would never hurt her again. That was what frightened him most of all.

Now the air was cold and crisp, the winter solstice just past, leaving them well and truly in the realm of her elder sister’s influence. The wind whistled like a kettle beyond the door and the space was dimly lit by firelight. She feared neither beast nor cold as she stoked the flames for them both. The air around them smelled of musk and smoke, and her body ached from what they had done hours before when the moon had not yet touched the sky.

It was a pleasant ache, one that reminded her of the side of the man she had first fallen in love with. He was a strong and kind man who gave her exactly what she wanted and no less. He could deny her nothing.

She shifted, shrugging off the layer she had added over her smallclothes after their lovemaking to keep the lingering chill from her skin. Now with the fire burning bright and his warmth mere feet away she hardly needed it and as such she folded it neatly and placed it on a chest away from the hearth before returning to him on the floor.

He’d always insisted that she take the bed if she insisted upon joining him. Once she’d seen him once he had no reason to ask her not to return, and although he was adamant in his attempts to get her to sleep upon it, she always joined him on the floor. He wouldn’t fit in the bed with or without her and she had come to be with him.

Kneeling before him her hand reached out gently and she could see the wild thing in his eye relax to a sleepy calm as she moved forward to pet the fine silky fur behind his ears.

“Like a palace hound my love,” she teased lovingly, “Man or bear you do always like a scratch behind the ear.”

Of course, he couldn’t speak to return the playfulness, but she gleaned his reaction from his eyes. He was amused and pretending not to be. Maybe if he could speak he would correct her that as a man he preferred to be kissed behind the ear, but as he could not she left it there.

“It’s alright Kristoff,” she added then, “I’ll indulge you in anything.”

And when he looked up at her again his eyes were filled with the humor he couldn’t keep at bay. He opened his mouth and growled out something that she took to mean “And I you”, and it was her cue to lean forward and press a kiss to his snout.

“Keep me warm?” she asked though it was hardly a question at all, “I promise I won’t play with your paws this time. I know it tickles.”

He wrapped around her body naturally, and as she laid back it was upon his warm brown fur. She pressed her face into his neck and was comforted, as she always was, by the softness and smell of him. Kristoff as a man, or Kristoff as a beast, it hardly mattered to Anna as any night she was given the gift of sleeping at his side was a night on which she knew she would sleep deeply.

He let out a low deep sound and she wove her fingers into his fur gently, taking the sound for the goodnight that it was.

I know you. She thought, and her eyes said it from behind their lids as she cozied herself up and allowed him to adjust around her until she was surrounded by his hulking form.

“Goodnight,” she said in return with a yawn. Soon she knew she would fall into a deep and restful sleep, waking in the morning to the man she loved clutching her to his chest.

[tiip2ydoodles]

Anamnesis

I’m so excited to finally unveil this MASSIVE story I wrote for @beforuszine! It was so much fun to work alongside everyone in the project and I’m really happy with the way it turned out. 

Download the Zine [HERE] and see the rest of the artwork! Everyone did an amazing job and I hope I get to work on more projects with them in the future! 😻😻😻

The sun rose slowly over the horizon at five thirty-two in the morning, painting the cream walls of a small apartment bedroom a warm peachy color.

With the sun’s rays came a lazy, sluggish sort of heat, a humidity and warmth that thickened the air and stopped the wind. The heat rolled across the pavement outside the apartment and onto the grass, carried by the sun’s rising light that turned the sky a soft orange, then pink, then finally a vibrant blue. The open curtains shifted with the meager wind that managed to fight its way through the muggy morning heat, whispering as the soft material rubbed against itself, almost silent.

Certainly inaudible to the two trolls that occupied the room.

The king-size bed shoved into a corner held them both, curled up around one another, clutching tightly. Legs tangled together, hands gripped at baggy, rolled-up pajama shirts. Grey skin flushed yellow and teal with the warmth of the sun and the soft breaths that spread across neck and cheek alike. One twitched, mumbling something tiredly, and the other drew closer as if to silence them.

That silence would stay until precisely five forty-five.

The tinkling chime of a phone alarm began at exactly the minute mark. A thunderous vibration rattled across the nightstand that silenced the birds outside and sent them all aflutter to escape the horrid drone. Wake up! The screen of the phone read.

A groan rose from one of the pair. The sound of shifting blankets signalled untangling limbs, jerky movements from the tired bodies that as of yet were unaccustomed to wakefulness. Four horns poked themselves from under the blankets, attached to one impressively tousled head of hair. Its owner reached up a spider-like hand, nails painted red and bitten to the quick, and ran it across his scalp as if this would somehow tame the tangles that sleep had gifted him. Instead, all it did was get his hand caught.

“Son of a bitch!”

His voice was louder even than the still-ringing alarm, sharp and lisping. At its sound a sleepy mumble rose from the pair of pointed cone horns buried under the blankets beside him. The other troll of the inseparable pair roused, sitting up and getting a good look at her surroundings. Seeing her mate in his predicament she smiled tiredly, carefully pulled the tangled hand from its trap. Unlike him, her nails remained unpainted and neatly trimmed, as well taken care of as the rest of her.

“Shhhh. You’ll scare the birds.” Latula murmured in a sleep-husky voice. A low grunt left her as she stretched, arching her back and shivering in satisfaction as it pops back into place. The tinkling chime of the phone began to annoy her and she reached over to shut it off.

Mituna, the tousle-haired yellowblood, buries his face into her shoulder, still clearly too groggy to even consider leaving the bed. She chuckles softly and wraps her arms around his waist, leaning as much into him as he is into her. If either one of them were to move away from their position now, the other would surely fall.

“I’ll scare your birds in a minute.” He replies, muffled against her skin.

She laughs and ruffles his hair, careful of the tangles. “Sure you will. Come on, it’s time to get up.”

“Hell no.”

Latula frowned and carefully shifted to give Mituna her best disappointed face. Knowing exactly what was coming, he turned his scarred eyes down and away, refusing to meet her gaze. After all, the look wasn’t there if he couldn’t see it, right?

“Mituna.” She said sternly. Even he can’t ignore the sound of her voice. He groans, nuzzling himself into her chest, pushing her back onto the bed and wrapping his arms around her. He squeezes tightly and refuses to let go, whining. “Mituna, oof - come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not like I’m asking you to run a marathon.”

“I wanna run a marathon.” He grumbled, hiding against her collarbone. “No waking up. Just sleep. It’s too early.”

Latula sighed. They went through this every morning, she wasn’t sure why she was surprised. Giving in, she curled up around him and pulled him close, hitting the snooze button on the next alarm. Mituna heard the distinct ping and smiled, kissing her collar sweetly. She huffed at him and gave one of his horns a gentle flick.

“It’s only an hour. Don’t get excited.” She murmured.

Nonetheless, Latula pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and closed her eyes. Silence fell over the small bedroom yet again and the birds, sensing the relative peace, began their chorus anew. Despite herself, Latula felt her eyes beginning to drift shut. The sound of soft snoring from her mate was her farewell back into sleep.

-

Latula is a tiny thing, barely four feet tall at four sweeps, with a bandaid on her chin.

Her lusus tells her, “Don’t play around at the skatepark. Watch where you’re going. Don’t forget to wear a helmet when you ride your two wheeled device.” The massive white dragon she calls a parent lovingly pats her helmeted head with a clawed wing, setting her off outside with a cheerful squawk and a puff of smoke from her nostrils. With pursed lips, Latula grabs the handlebars and rides off down the street.

It’s warm; the vernal equinox is long past, sliding lazily into the late solstice seasons when even the nights are unbearably hot. Latula feels grateful for the breeze that brushes past her face as she rides, flicking her ponytail almost playfully, whistling past her ears. The pink moon overhead shines brightly against the backdrop of stars, casting a warm glow over the street and causing long shadows to creep their way out from under Latula and her bike. With no one else out, she almost feels alone in the world, and she can’t tell if that’s a good feeling or not.

Once at the skate park Latula never wants to ride her two wheeled device. Instead it’s ditched near the entrance, hidden in the bushes from thieves and rowdy older trolls who would seek to bother her. She keeps her helmet on - not out of any concern for safety, but purely because something much more important makes her forget to take it off in her excitement. Something that made her come back every day, drop her device like an embarrassing eyesore, and hide near the jungle gym.

Not something - someone.

It’s a yellowblood, a lanky thing with four horns and bright two-toned eyes. His clothes are a horrid clash of primary colours, shorts and a T-shirt dirty with dust from the half-pipes he’s been riding all day. He and his other friends - mostly lowbloods as well - ride the pipes with a grace and ease that say they’ve been doing this for a long while. When he rides the upturn Latula can see his sneakers are mismatched, the same colours as his eyes, with bright yellow strings.

However, despite their loud palette, his clothes aren’t what lead Latula to stare at him from afar each day. It’s the utter joy on his face, the uneven fangs sticking out of his mouth when he smiles so gleeful and triumphant. It’s his voice, whooping and hollering with every downward leap into the pipe like a stereotypical lowblooded hooligan, eyes tearing up yellow with the wind that whips his hair into a frenzied mess. It’s the bloodied knees and hands, no padding, all concern for safety gone out the window. It’s the way he moves with the board in utter synchrony, leaning into it like he was made to ride it. There’s a grace to the yellowblood’s movements that reminds Latula of water, the way it laps at sand and crashes to the shore in great and terrifying waves.

The yellowblood glances her way and there’s a wild smile on his face. Latula gasps, ears turning a light teal, and hides herself away.

Maybe some night she’ll introduce herself, but tonight is not that night.

-

Sunrises on Earth, Latula’s come to learn, are nowhere near as harsh as the ones on Beforus had been.

The sounds and warmth of the morning roused her not fifteen minutes later as, with the rising of the sun, the world began to come to life. The sound of clinking wooden chimes hung in the window and birds chirping in the nearby oak tree sang the morning’s usual song. Cars outside added their dull rumble and a lawnmower directly underneath them hummed a low bass note to the sweet tune. It made Latula’s ears twitch and a comfortable sort of peace weigh on her body as if to say stay in bed today. There’s no rush. Just enjoy the morning.

The smell of coffee and bacon, however, pulled her from the warmth of her bed.

Mituna was nowhere to be found, the bedsheets beside her rumpled but empty. Her brows furrowed, lips pursing. Mituna always overslept, that was basically a given at this point. Even before his accident he’d overslept. For him to be up before Latula - and making what smelled like a delicious breakfast - was almost unheard of.

With a yawn and a stretch Latula sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. It needed a cut soon, she noted as her brain began to slowly chug to life. Slowly, she pushed herself out of her bed and wiggled her feet into her teal slippers. Mornings had never agreed with either one of them, but Latula was always the morning grump. That was just how it went. How Mituna managed to bounce out of the bed in the morning like a literal ball of sunshine was constantly beyond her imagining.

Glancing at the clock, Latula let out a low groan. She had been the one to oversleep this time.

“Tuney,” She called, shuffling zombielike from the bedroom and forcing back another yawn, hiding it behind her hand. “Tune, are you making breakfast? How long have you been u--oh.”

There, in the kitchen, stood Mituna. Fluffy-haired, grinning wildly, flipping pancakes. Wearing nothing but a very cliched apron that read Kiss the Cook. He spotted Latula leaning against the kitchen doorway and his two-tone eyes sparkled like jewels. If it was even possible, his mouth seemed to stretch into an even bigger smile.

“Hey, Tulip, check it out!” He said, his normally lisping voice slurred even further by the early morning’s tiredness and a lack of caffeination. “I did it! I’ve been practising for ever and I finally got it! I flipped the pancake!”

He looked so proud of himself. Latula couldn’t even bring herself to be angry about the splatters of pancake batter that covered the kitchen counters, or the fact that he was buck-ass naked in front of the stove. She shook her head and grinned, folding her arms.

“You flipped the pancake,” She said, reaching over and trying to get a glop of batter from Mituna’s flyaway hair. It wasn’t working all that well. “Not a bad job, Tuney. Did you put chocolate chips in them?”

“Damn straight.” He pointed to the little brown dots that littered the breakfast treat sizzling away in the pan. “It’s not good without chocolate chips. Tastes like dirt and flour.” He wrinkled his nose, sticking out his tongue and Latula laughed.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We’re gonna need a shower after breakfast, though. You’re covered in batter - and where are your boxers? I swear you went to bed with a pair on.”

Mituna shook the pancake in the pan, avoiding Latula’s eyes. She folded her arms, one hip cocked to the side as she watched him get more and more uneasy. He squirmed under her gaze and she knew that he wouldn't be long breaking. Then--

“Fiiiiine,” He admitted finally. “They’re too tight. I left ‘em in the respiteblock. Clothes are dumb anyway.” With a dramatic flair he pointed the spatula at Latula, a cocky grin on his face and mischief in his eyes. “You should take yours off too. Come on! Strip! Strip or no pancakes.”

Latula snorted. “Ha! You wish. I’ll save the stripping for the bath.” She said, taking the spatula from him daintily and turning over the pancake before it burnt to the dry bottom of the pan. She added more butter and the teflon sizzled, smoke rising in the air as the butter melted and turned a bitter brown. Mituna hissed and covered his ears, moving back away from the pan with a disgruntled expression.

“Sorry for the noise, babe.” Latula waved the buttery spatula towards the table. “Get us some plates, Tuney? I’ll finish up here.”

“But I wanted to make breakfast for you!” Mituna’s protest came out a little more whiny than he would have liked to admit, but it still melted Latula’s heart anyway. His lips pursed in a sulky expression and the kicked-barkbeast look he wore was enough to make even Latula back down. With a soft expression she sighed, turning down the stove to a respectable temperature and pouring the batter for another pancake. When she was done, she handed Mituna back the spatula and kissed him sweetly. He smiled into the kiss, knowing he’d won.

It wasn’t as if Latula ever won against his puppy look, anyway.

-

Latula heard the hit before she saw it.

The sound of fists meeting flesh was not one she was accustomed to, but it was nonetheless unmistakable. She would have thought nothing of it, continuing on her nightly bike ride to the park, but then she heard something else that made her already cool blood freeze in her veins. Cries of pain in an all too familiar voice; a voice that Latula normally heard whooping and cheering as its owner dove headfirst down ramps and came up the other side, sailing through the air.

A kind of anger flooded Latula's pan and her tires skidded on the dirt trail that led to the park as she whirled around. Her legs throbbed, pedaling as hard as she could to race back towards the source of the sound.

Her suspicions were confirmed. There, lying just off the path, a cluster of higher-blooded trolls gathered in a circle around a familiar yellow-jacketed target. He had his hands over his head, bandaged knees tucked in towards the core of his body to try and avoid getting any more kicks to the stomach. It didn't work; someone got him from behind and he cried out again, shouting curses and spitting vehemently at the group. It only caused them to jeer louder, encouraging their antics.

Latula, a tiny, scrappy little tealblood, had no chance against the three blues and a violet that threatened the object of her hidden obsession. But that wasn't about to stop her; she sped forward with an angry holler on her lips, her front tire aimed directly for the ringleader of the group.

Two or three of them looked up and their eyes widened. Like a synchronized ballet they all dove out of the way, yelling in fear of the crazy little wriggler speeding towards them at a breakneck pace. If she didn't hurt them, she was certain to hurt herself with how insane she was acting. But she didn't care; the bluebloods scattered and Latula stumbled off her bike, lunging at the violet with teeth bared and an angry scream on her lips.

It worked. The violet looked about to piss himself as he raced back, tripping over a rock behind him and scrambling on all fours like a pinchbeast to get away from her. She smiled, all victorious fangs and scraped-up hands and knees. Her body hurt from the fall she'd taken but her heart was racing and she felt proud to have done something good. Slowly she got to her feet, panting and feeling adrenaline course through her body

"Are you okay?" She asked the yellowblood, who still sat dumbfounded on the ground. He stared up at her and Latula took a moment to simply admire his two-toned eyes. Red and blue, she decided, were her two favorite colours. Even though she was still breathing heavily she leaned down, reaching out a hand to help him up.

He hesitated. Latula was frightened for a moment that he would call her out, get angry for acting like a culler. Her blood colour suddenly became very prominent in her mind and anxiety bells rang. Was this something a culler would do? Was this even okay? Did he think that she was just doing this to coddle him?

Then he smiled wide. He laughed, reaching up and taking her hand, pushing himself up off the ground.

"That was awesome!" He cheered. "Did you see them running? Man, you were like an angry hornbeast! I've never seen anything like that before!" The energy that he exuded as he fist-pumped the air made it look as if he hadn't been injured at all, despite the newly forming bruises she'd seen as his jacket pulled away from his stomach. He didn't even seem to care. "Damn, Teal! That was the best thing I've seen all week."

Latula's cheeks went a bright blue and she smiled sheepishly. Well, at least he wasn't angry. To have the object of her affections cheering her on for a momentary lapse of judgement, though, that was...something else.

"Thanks," She said, rather shyly. "I, uh....I hope I didn't hurt you with my bike or anything."

"Nah." The yellowblood waved her off. "Nothing I haven't done to myself  before. I'm Mituna, by the way."

His smile was adorably gap-toothed as he held out a hand to shake. He must have chipped a fang recently. Latula thought it was one of the most adorable things she'd ever seen. Her ears perked up, turning teal as she reached out a shaking hand and clasping his in her own. "Latula."

"Latula, huh?" His smile didn't even fade for a second. "Sounds like a flower. Do you skate any?"

Latula shook her head no. Mituna laughed.

"What are you doing near a skate park if you can't skate? Do you do any rad tricks on your bike?"

Another shake of her head. "I just like to watch."

Mituna's smile became a little gentler then. He let go of her hand, picking up his board and her bike, handing the latter back to her. "Well, let's go change that." He said, walking towards the park. Latula's eyes widened. Without a second thought she trotted along right behind him.

--

"Don't forget your pills!"

Mituna's voice echoed down the hall from Latula as she finished clearing away the dishes. The pancakes had been slightly burnt, but a little bit of syrup had fixed them right up. Sometimes she forgot just how good of a cook Mituna had been before his accident. He was getting there again, too. She reminded herself to praise him a little more on it. After all, Mituna loved praise on anything, and she loved seeing the way his face lit up when he'd done something right.

He was doing a lot more things right lately. Latula was amazed at just how much a new world and a  new life had begun to heal him in so little time. Then again, stagnance was never good for anything except bringing out the worst in people. Even bright, sunshiney people like Mituna fell victim.

"Can do, toots. Go on up, I'll be there in a minute. I just wanna scrub this pan before anything gets caked." Latula called back to him.

"Hurry up! Just let it soak!" Mituna sounded impatient and she sighed, shaking her head and putting the pan back in the hot water.

"Fine, fine." She said. Her arm was aching anyway from trying ineffectually to get the sticky bits of chocolate off the pan. It could soak for a little while, she supposed. Not everything had to be done right away. Rolling her shoulder, she reached into the cabinet on top of the fridge and pulled out a small orange bottle. Her nose wrinkled as she dumped one pill out into her palm and tossed it into her mouth. It went down rather stickily since she'd dry-swallowed, but at least it went down this time. She put the pills back, seeing another bottle and hesitating.

"Did you take your pills?" Latula called up to Mituna.

"What?"

"I said," She yelled a little louder. "Did you take your pills?"

"Yes!"

"Okay." She closed the cupboard door and headed up the stairs. Clothes were strewn throughout the hallway as if Mituna had stripped on his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. He sat in the already full tub with a big grin hidden under the bubbles.His  ears wiggled and Latula huffed, hands on her hips.

"I don't trust that look on your face." She said, tugging off her shirt.

"What look?" Mituna asked innocently. "I don't have a look on my face, unless you count my normal gorgeousness."

Latula snorted. She wasn't about to debate his attractiveness, though, not when he was wiggling impatiently and waiting for her to hop into the tub. The water was comfortably lukewarm to combat the heat of the summer day outside, splashing slightly over the rim of the tub. Mituna had overfilled it accidentally. With her toe Latula tugged on the bath plug, letting some of the water slip through without Mituna noticing. It didn't work that well; the tub gave an obnoxious sucking noise and she winced. Mituna didn't seem to notice.

"Did you take your pill?" He asked, looking down at her as she settled comfortably into his lap. She leaned back against him and he raised wet hands, stroking them through her hair to dampen it.

"Yeah." She said, tilting her head back to look up at him and pressing a kiss to his chin. He beamed happily at her.

"Good. No forgetting our pills. The human mediculler said so."

A soft hum left Latula and she let him play with her hair. It was nice, sometimes, to have him look after her and worry about her. Sometimes it bugged her, but the more she went to therapy the fewer and further between those moments were. Now she just enjoyed the quiet, peaceful moments where she didn't have to move or think, just feel the softness of his hands as they combed tenderly through her hair and wove it into messy but well-intentioned braids.

That reminded her...

"You have therapy today," She said, opening one eye to look at him. "Feeling up to going this time? It's okay if you're not."

Mituna gave a thoughtful hum. He'd missed the last two, they both knew that, but the therapist he saw was more than understanding. She was patient, and kind, and never faulted him for missing appointments he didn't have the energy to make. Latula was seriously considering switching therapists to see his.

Finally, after a moment's silence, Mituna nodded. "Yeah." He said. "Yeah I can go today. Today's a good day."

Latula beamed at him and leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Proud of you." She murmured softly.

Mituna blushed, fumbled with her hair and looked away. "'S just an appointment." He said, flustered. "Missed the last couple, it's not like I'm doin' all that great--"

He found himself hushed by another soft kiss. He would have protested, but Latula's lips were soft and cool and just the right amount of plush. Plus, she still tasted like chocolate and syrup. He kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

--

A meteor struck Latula's treehouse hive. She swore, a panicked note to her voice.

"Tuna!" She said through her headset, watching her screen frantically. "Tuna, come on, get through! I can't jump until you do!"

"I can't!" If Latula sounded scared, he was downright terrified. Frozen in place, Latula watched as he struggled to climb onto the roof of the impossibly large hive they'd built to reach his [insert name for portal thing here].  Her heart stopped as he slipped from the tile, grabbing on with one desperate hand and crying out in absolute terror. She cried out with him. "I can't do it! Tulip, help me!"

"I can't - I don't know what to do!" Her breaths were coming quick and heavy now and her heart hammered in her ears. Across the keyboard her fingers trembled, misspelling words as she typed frantic, panicky pleas for help to anyone in her session. No one listened. Why wouldn't anyone listen? Even Cronus had vanished - where was he?! He was supposed to be here!

On the screen Mituna had managed to swing himself up. Okay. Okay, this was going a little better. He could do this. They could do this. Latula watched him as he scrambled over the multiple rooftops and balcony railings in a half-assed attempt at parkour. Over her headphones she could hear his claws scraping against the sandpaper tiles as he scrabbled onto the final level of the toppling building. Her heart swelled with elation.

"Yes!" She cried, then clapped her hands over her mouth realizing that she'd screamed straight into the microphone. "Sorry, Tune!"

"It's okay!" Mituna sounded breathless and just as elated as she felt. "Okay - okay, I think I can lift myself from here, it's just a jump, right?" He tilted his head to look up at the portal above him. It seemed a mile away. How long had it been since he'd used his psi? Too long for something like this. He was out of practise. Fucking cullers.

"Yeah, just a jump!" Latula frantically worked at her own computer, glancing at the other feeds from the ten trolls that'd been roped into this with them. They were the last ones to go through. She scrambled to the top of her hive, struggling to keep her husktop steady. "Okay. Okay, you jump, and then I'll be right behind you in just a minute, okay? We might lose connection for a minute--"

Mituna wasn't listening. Latula heard the telltale crackle of his psi and the next moment, he was launching himself through the air towards the gate. She could see him rocketing towards it one minute, and the next - the next the feed was cut off.

He'd made it.

Latula sighed with relief and hung her head. The husktop, now useless, fell to the wayside and bounced off the precariously build hive with a firm crack. Latula looked up at her own gate and, with a loud grunt of effort, threw herself at it..

--

"Ready to go?"

Mituna's voice broke Latula from her reverie. In the time that it'd taken her to pull on her clothes he'd already braided her hair, pulled his own into a messy ponytail, and gotten his clothes on. Even his shoes were tied. Latula remembered a time when he couldn't even pull his jumpsuit off, but here he was sporting a pair of board shorts, a baggy tanktop and his old mismatched shoes and everything was on right and tidy. Her chest clenched. Pride swelled up inside her. Slowly she stood up, grabbing her shoes.

"Yeah, just give me a sec, babe." She murmured. Mituna fidgeted impatiently and whined.

"Come on, slowpoke!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, hold on." Latula stood and stretched, feeling her back pop from where she'd been hunched over her shoelaces for the last age and a half. Mituna tangled one arm with hers, keys already in hand, and half-dragged her to the door.

"You're so spacey today." He pointed out. When Latula gave him a confused look, he very obviously rolled his eyes and huffed as he tried to find the words to explain. "You're all - thinking about other things. Your pan isn't in your head, Tulip!"

"Where else would my pan be?" She teased him and he groaned aloud.

"You know what I mean."

Latula glanced at him, his expectant expression. She smiled warmly. He'd changed so much, but at the same time, not at all. She almost wished that she could see herself through his eyes, wondering if she'd changed any since they'd met. Who did he see when he looked at her?

That didn't really matter. Whatever he saw, clearly he still loved it. Loved her. She kissed his forehead sweetly and he bumped noses with her in an attempt to make the kiss meet his lips. She laughed and kissed him there, too.

"Doesn't matter, babe." She said. "Come on. We've got stuff to do today."

The question seemed to vanish from Mituna's mind. He nodded, stealing one more kiss as he opened the door.

"Ladies first?" He said.

Latula laughed and stepped outside.

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

Lexa’s Dancing Again

For @queen-of-arda it’s been an honor being your secret Santa, even if the entire endeavor was a little bit of a mess. Happy holidays kiddo! Sorry I’m a little late! En mochof @slakgedakru for editing some of that trig! I love you all!

Pairings: Echo/Raven, Clarke/Lexa, and there’s a couple others but they’re either barely mentioned or brotps

Canon divergent at 3x07 probs, idk it doesn’t matter, it takes place a couple years in the future or something don’t question it

Summary: A winter solstice festival dance where Echo is useless, Lexa is hopeless, Clarke is clueless, and Raven is just oblivious. (I've never written Echo or Raven in this capacity before so please be kind)

“I’m still surprised Roan gave you the night off,” Echo didn’t look away from the dance floor as the person sat beside her.

She rolled her eyes, something she never would’ve done just years ago, “I’m still surprised you harbor a grudge.”

Raven’s voice tightened, “You cancelled on me because he told you to.” Echo fought the urge to roll her eyes again, instead taking a sip of her sweet wine. Raven held her hand out and Echo passed it to her. Raven hadn’t talked to her since the incident nearly a month ago, but still expected more than her fair share of alcohol. “I’m assuming you brought this?” Raven passed it back.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out what Monty and Jasper had planned?” Raven shook her head in mock contempt making Echo struggle to keep her own smile off her face.

“They’re incredibly immature.”

“The flask is hidden in your brace.”

Monty and Harper waltzed passed, off tempo and grinning as they tried to step on each other’s feet. The officials around them watched with confusion, though Echo noticed some of the children dancing with a little more of the reckless abandon attributed to the skaikru couple.

“I didn’t know he and Clarke were friends,” Raven nodded to Roan and Clarke, her king’s pained expression as Clarke stepped on his feet.

“They remained in touch after he kidnapped her and she tried to poison his mother.”

Raven snorted, “Sounds like how Clarke makes friends.”

The slow song faded out and Clarke and Roan shared a parting hug before Clarke spotted them and wandered over. “How is everyone?” She collapsed beside Raven and grabbed a cup of wine from a passing servant.

“Octavia’s with Ilian, Bellamy’s getting wasted with Murphy, Jasper’s trying to get with some lake clan chick -”

“Boat clan,” Echo cut in and Raven nodded.

“Right, right, and we just saw Monty and Harper, and let’s see - who else?”

“Miller and Jackson?” Clarke asked.

“I think Miller’s on Kane tonight and Jacksons moping with Bell and Murphy,” Raven said and Echo tuned them out, instinctually seeking out Roan again. She was off tonight but she wasn’t fool enough to think there was ever a time she didn’t have to be on her guard. She spotted Kane talking with Abby, a blush painting Abby’s face as the band began to play another slow song.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Clarke announced, Echo glanced over, perhaps she had noticed her wayword mother attempting to bed the chancellor of the thirteenth clan. But instead the girl’s gaze was focused elsewhere, on an exit to the dance hall swinging shut. Raven took a swig out of her flask.

“Have fun.”

Echo’s brow furrowed, often this announcement preceded a group expedition, but Raven hadn’t even bothered asking for an invite. Perhaps Clarke was allowing them time alone? She watched Raven, who now refused to make eye contact with her and Clarke left the table.

“Would you like to dance?” Echo attempted, her heart beating faster than it did on her first hunt.

“Nah,” Raven took another swig of her flask, “Legs not good for much nowadays.”

Echo nodded and stood, her duty lay with her king anyway and she found him talking among some broadleaf dignitaries. She swerved through volatile dancers and made her way closer watching with some admiration as he held court, discussing trade deals and borders, endlessly charming and swift. The mindless politics filled her head with noise, enough to block out the sounds of music and cheer the winter solstice dance so often brought. Indra appeared at his side, muttering something and Roan found her eyes across the group. He nodded his head at the back door and she began striding for it.

“My apologies, I must attend to this,” she heard him say to group gathered. She slipped into the hallway and he found her, stiffened, awaiting orders. “I gave you the night off. Why were you still guarding me?”

“Moba, haihefa,” I’m sorry king, she bowed her head.

“That wasn’t an answer.” She didn’t respond and he sighed, his body heaving with it. “Indra requires your assistance. The commander is missing and they wish to find and retrieve her without raising any alarms. They require a spy.”

“Trikru nou gada loufa op, ai azhefa?” Trikru don’t have spies, my king?

“Hon em daun ekkou, nou dat ai klin nodotaim,” Find her Echo, don’t question me again, he strode back into the ball room and she glared at the ground. A wild goose chase no doubt, an easy way to get rid of her.

She searched the obvious places first. The bathroom was empty, Clarke probably back by now in the main hall reacting to her mother’s new pick of men. Echo was sorry to be missing it. She wandered through the library, remembering Raven cursing Lexa for hoarding her old world scrolls. She even snuck into the fleimkepa temple, despite her every instinct to avoid it, and sent up a prayer of apology before sneaking out again. She found Lexa’s room and study, both empty of the commander, and at last returned to the hall to ask Clarke if she had any ideas. Raven found her first.

“Have you seen Clarke? She never came back and I’m getting worried.”

Echo narrowed her eyes and dragged Raven outside, “Heda is missing too.”

Raven’s mouth pressed into a thin line, “You think it’s Titus? Emerson?”

The song finished and the band began to play another slow song, “Is this the fifth in a row?”

“What?” Raven blinked at her and Echo rolled her eyes.

“I know where they are.”

She marched them to the ambassador’s hall where the music could still be heard through the floorboards and Echo peeked through the cracked door, Raven following her lead.

Lexa’s head lay on Clarke���s shoulder, both held the other’s waist with one hand and interlocked their fingers with the other. Lexa had her eyes closed and Clarke looked like she was murmuring something. Echo scowled. Clarke was singing.

Lexa had her eyes closed, looking so peaceful she might’ve been asleep and Clarke’s cheek pressed against her forehead. The song began to fade into yet another slow song, no doubt at the commander’s order and their sway paused.

“Leksa?” Lexa hummed, eyes still closed. “Ai hod yu in.”

Lexa’s eyes opened, blinking, she drew away and Clarke’s face filled with a weakness and vulnerability. “Clarke -” Clarke drew away, and Echo pulled Raven back now, giving her a look as the girl attempted to stand her ground. “I love you too.” Raven glanced back at the scene, the two now locked in a kiss and Echo took the opportunity to get her off balance and dragged her out and back to the elevators. Indra found them as soon as they stepped out.

“Well?”

Echo shrugged, “She is discussing something with Wanheda,” Raven snorted, “it was not my place to intrude.” Indra narrowed her eyes and put a hand on her dagger but let Echo pass her without much trouble. She found her old seat, Raven finding hers. “I did not know they were involved.”

“I knew she was seeing someone but - yeah. I guess it’s my fault for her not thinking she could trust me though.” Raven looked around for her flask and Echo watched her. Wondered what else this girl blamed herself for.

“It’s hard to trust in this life, but the only one who will be punished for not doing so is you.”

Raven met her eyes, “it hasn’t always worked out for me.”

“What? Trust? Relationships?”

“Yes,” Raven’s voice choked up and Echo’s jaw tightened and she inched closer, “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Honesty doesn’t always have to be painful, it can be freeing.”

“You’re a spy. What would you know about honesty?” Raven looked away and Echo placed a hand over Raven’s, brushing a finger over her callouses until Raven met her eyes.

“I’ve never lied to you,” she moved closer, Raven’s breath hitched. “But let’s start with a dance.”

“We should go back soon,” Lexa muttered and Clarke groaned. She kissed Clarke’s cheek, “Thank you for running away with me.”

“Well it wasn’t easy,” Clarke swiped some hair away from Lexa’s face, brushing them behind delicate ears, “I think Raven’s suspicious.” Lexa leant into the touch in a way that made Clarke melt, “I’ll run away with you any time, Lexa.”

It wasn’t a promise either of them could keep but they pretended, letting the bliss close their eyes, warmth coming over them in droves. Clarke grinned into sweet, softer than feather, kisses.

They pulled away with a sigh, “I’ll leave first.” Clarke squeezed Lexa’s hand and Lexa pulled Clarke’s up to her lips and kissed the knuckles.

“May we meet again, Clarke.”

Clarke smiled, moving her hand to cup Lexa’s hand and kissing her again. “We will.” Lexa smiled as they pulled away and Clarke left, riding the elevator down, still riding the warmth in her chest from her time with Lexa. She came back to the dance hall, taking her old seat looking around for someone she recognized, her mom maybe, last she seen Kane wanted a private conversation with her about something. Or maybe Raven, she figured the girl would either get wasted with Bellamy and Murphy or get wasted alone as she typically did at these things.

Instead she found her dancing, limping and tripping and laughing, and laughing. Raven was letting out peals of laughter and her partner looked like she was just trying to keep up.

“She looks happy,” Clarke jumped, noticing Octavia for the first time.

“Oh yeah, I didn’t think she and Echo were…”

“Yeah.”

“Did you -”

“No. But I guess it proves it then.” Clarke looked at Octavia, the painfully stoic face not giving an ounce of emotion away, “it’s possible to find a second love.”

Harper and Raven were hooting at each other as the tempo finally picked up in the music and more people joined the dance floor. Echo was holding Raven back from a fistfight and Monty looked afraid for his life as Harper, stumbling around, cussed Raven out. Jasper and the floukru girl Clarke had thrown at him were making their way onto the dancefloor and Jasper didn’t look like he had taken a sip of alcohol that night. Hell even her mom was… was dancing with… A grin lit up Clarke’s face. Her mom smiling bigger than she was and Clarke knew Kane would take care of her. They deserved it after everything.

Lexa walked back in and met her eyes, “Indra told me she hasn’t even been to one of these since Costia died,” Octavia said. Clarke looked back at her, “I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since Finn. Maybe not even then.” She stood, “I’m glad you two found each other.” Lexa was still watching her and if Raven could date a grounder that betrayed them so could she.

She made her way over and Lexa smiled.

[zadie-maclain]

Wanted! Connections!

Hi! This is, of course, Zadie. The original. The traumatized one. I made Zadie, not realizing how difficult she is to interact with, and rapidly had to change my game plan.

But that’s fine. That’s what characters do. They show you stuff, evolve and what not. I’m here for the ride. But I think, if Zadie’s really going to grow, she needs some current connections.

HERE’S THE HOT TAKE Zadie MacLain is the youngest of the two MacLain children from the main branch. She’s 31, and an apprentice of Herbalism, which is more or less an excuse for her to traipse around the woods and avoid people. She was a field medic with the Circle before captured by the Church of Dark during the war, and made to travel with a rowdy, small group of soldiers who used her for -- well, anything you can think of. Yes, probably that. I haven’t delved too far into it. Since her return, her family is missing, and Zadie isn’t... adjusting very well. She’s quiet. Sharp. And deeply, wildly secretive.

Family. Are you a MacLain? Maybe a Hayes. Circle of Nightfall? Maybe a Saint, sprinkled in there? Chances are, you’re related to Zadie somehow. Her mama had a lot of sisters (meaning, Zadie had a lot of Aunties -- and a lot of cousins). Maybe you came to Christmas, or joined the summer solstice festival on the MacLain farm. Zadie recognizes you, and knows you’re safe.

Kind souls. She isn’t the softest bunny in the basket (which is a phrase I just made up). In fact, she’s got some sharp edges. Some rough spots. And she’ll bite if she’s riled up. But you understand that, and maybe you’ve got some sharp edges, too. Zadie confides in you, as much as she confides in anyone (which isn’t much), and doesn’t immediately flinch when you appear at the end of the lane. Maybe she’s even let you inside the house.

Helping hands. Help. She needs it. She doesn’t know how to ask for it. And she doesn’t trust that people would help her, even if she did. She’s been badly treated, and lived for a long period, afraid for her life, only to come home and find her family’s farm abandoned. She needs to learn how to run it, but maybe she should at least learn to cook, first. You can help with that. She’ll repay you in... she can’t, right now. That’s really difficult for her.

Old friends, flames, foes. Before the war, Zadie was a bright, cheerful young woman, often the ringleader of a group. She had a wild imagination and big dreams -- and maybe you knew her back then. Went to school together. Kissed a little in the willow grove. You wouldn’t recognize her now, that’s for certain.

These two, I would love to plot out a bit more -- she’s a heavy character, so if either spark your interest, message me and let’s talk. 

Captors. Zadie was captured by a small group of men from the Church of Dark, about two years into the war. Instead of killing her, they found use for her -- she cooked, cleaned, set up camp, tended to their wounds, and when she messed up, or acted out, there were consequences. These weren’t high-ranking members of the Church, and they weren’t necessarily upstanding members of the community, but they were damn good soldiers. And she lived with them for three years.

Kindred spirit. Is it love? Impossible. But there’s something about you that makes Zadie feel at ease -- even brighten up a bit. Makes her think about something beyond the very next day. Maybe she even thinks about washing her hair when you come around, just so it’s real soft and shiny. She needs someone who isn’t afraid of angry outbursts, or long, infuriating silences. Someone who has also had trauma, and found a way to overcome it. Someone special.

Any pique your interest? Message me!