#from my beloved quill—☆

[bbbeowulf]

Do I draw my MCD/MYS:ES big booba lesbian villainess again or do I continue to suffer with my brain rot on my lonesome

[philtstone]

peter quill, gamora, "pine"

set sometime soon after movie 2

The uncharacteristic look of concentration on his face is distorted by the firelight and tall spindly pines rising up above their heads. Gamora contemplates the dirty yellow lick of his bangs over creased eyebrows that furrow more deeply than they used to. The scruff on his cheeks is a side effect of the way this job is dragging out. Rocket is muttering in his sleep and Drax is staring off into the trees with Groot and Mantis in some strange silent ritual; Gamora rises and walks the few steps over to Peter's side.

"Hi," she says.

"Hm?" he startles. She has her knife in her boot and her sword at her belt, and is less than an arms length away from him now, so does not have to concern herself with the outcome of an ambush. On principle he is too easily distracted, but she is here now. She's not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

"You have a lot on your mind," she offers, tentatively and not really a question, the way a lot of their exchanges are these days. She wonders if that is a natural byproduct whenever an unspoken thing is acknowledged. She tries not to cringe internally at the redundancy of the question.

It's only been a month since, after all.

"Me? Nah. I mean -- nah, I'm good," Peter says. Then he searches her eyes for something Gamora is worried she doesn't know how to give. He hasn't kissed her yet, and she's grateful, in a strange and painful way, but lately she's been wondering what that would feel like. In front of her his shoulders relax anyway, and he seems suddenly content. "You came over here 'cause you're cold?" he asks.

His breath fogs out in little clouds of condensation in front of his mouth.

"I run much warmer than you," she states.

"Yeah."

Peter had built the fire; she would have been fine without it. He was determined to do it the old fashioned way, using only tinder and a flint stick he pulled out of his back pocket. It took three times as long as using the instant starter kit in Rocket's pack and she wonders if it was Yondu or his mother of whom he was thinking when he did it.

"Would you like to lean against each other, Peter?" she asks, tilting her head.

Gamora's trying, really hard. At her words, Peter cracks a dopey grin, his expression clearing fully, and nods.

Maybe she is succeeding.

[starchasing-cryptid]

4, 5, and 38 for the ask game. How r you?

hi quill!! i'm doing alright, how are youuu? i hope you've been okay <3

4. what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends? uhhh idk i can't really think of any </3

5. what made you start your blog? looking for more marauders and tsc content and figured this would be a good place :]

38. fave song at the moment? been obsessed with honey by l'arc-en-ciel recently

[thebirdandhersong]

all i can say is that one of the Lockwood & Co characters has the same first name as my ex boyfriend but the character is SO lovely that he practically redeemed the name for me

[rosieofcorona]

Fellchaser

Hi my sweets, I bring to you some freshly baked Solavellan yearning. Also posted on Ao3, if you prefer. As always, thank you for reading. 💕

This is how he remembers it, the first night Solas knew that he loved her. 

He cannot say with any certainty, after all these lonely years, what had happened directly before or directly after, cannot make out the finer details in the grand tapestry of things. But he knows by heart the shape of that hour, the way she had come to him after a victory, flushed with wine and the chill of the evening, her hair curling up in the damp autumn air.

*****

He declines, as he always does, their invitations for a celebratory drink, preferring the relative quiet and solitude of his own quarters.

For many hours, he can hear them– Bull and Sera and the rest– their cheerful noises bouncing off the castle walls like skipping stones. It annoys him for a time, disturbs his solitude, his study, until he hears (or thinks he hears) her voice among them. 

Solas can picture her then, in the tavern. Bright mind, bright eyes, bright laughter. Vibrant even in the dimness of the room. And there’s a flicker of a thought he can’t keep smothered– that he should’ve gone down there with her, despite his judgment. 

It makes no matter how he tries to keep his distance. She seeks him out, as she always does, as he knows she will. When he doesn’t stop her, he tells himself that it’s because she’s their Inquisitor. He tells himself she can go where she likes, that duty alone compels his counsel. 

He knows a lie when he hears one. 

He’s nearly talked himself into making an appearance when she shows up in his doorway, hazy and loose with the aura of drink, the tips of her ears and her cheeks turned rosy. 

He does nothing to discourage her entering. He says nothing to send her away. 

“Hello,” she says simply, when he sees her. Her head tilts against the frame, her gaze fond and unfocused.

“Hello.”

“You never joined us.” An accusation. Lightly leveled, lightly slurred. The syllables tumble in her mouth like stones in a river.

He wants to say, I could not bear you being so close and sweet and real. He wants to say, You are a distraction I cannot afford.  Instead he says, “I was preoccupied,” knowing that answer is insufficient.

She makes her way into the chamber, weaving an unsteady path to the table where he has laid out all his books, his quills, his ink. 

“With what?” she murmurs, curious even in her state.

Solas knows he should excuse himself, conjure a reason to stay at a distance. But he finds himself wanting to– what? Talk to her, tell her, keep her close?

“Translating a record,” he says at last. “Of ancient practices in Arlathan. Ritual offerings to the gods in exchange for their…favor.”

Solas stumbles on the last word, something bitter in its taste, and where she would normally probe him further she takes no notice. She’s busy poring over the largest book, its contents all in Elvhen, the ink and vellum faded by the centuries. “I can’t make out any of this,” she frowns. “Perhaps I’m worse off than I thought.” “Perhaps,” Solas huffs out a laugh. “Although the language has shifted with time. Some words may yet be familiar, if not–”

“Oh, here!” She gasps delightedly when she finds a phrase she knows, though she says the syllables slowly, as if they are new. “Sa-lath. One’s love, one’s only love. Something like that.” 

“In the modern parlance, yes. But here,” he says– and he leans over her to tap the page for emphasis– “Here it means something like ‘beloved.’ The words come together, see. Salath.”

It’s the wine he smells first, that rich, warm scent that floats from her up close, but there’s something different, something distinctive hiding beneath. He wants to taste it and find out, to slip his tongue into her mouth, and– 

“They would offer something beloved, then?”

Solas clears his throat.

“Or someone,” he nods, breathing deeply. “A high price for favor.”

She goes quiet for a moment, tracing the small shapes of the letters with her finger. Such a fine movement is made imprecise by the drink, but she repeats it as if she is carving it into her memory. “Salath,” she whispers, tasting the word. “Salath, ‘beloved.’ I will remember that.”

He very much doubts that she will, come morning. But it stirs something inside him all the same. Beloved, beloved.  

“What would you demand?” She says, sweeping the thought from his mind. “If you were a god.”

If, he thinks, that one word louder than all the rest. 

“I suppose it would depend what was being asked of me.”

“Your favor,” she tells him. “Your love.”

“Ah.” There’s a twist in his chest, like an arrow wrenched free, pain and relief all at once. “The heart of a god is not easily won. I would require yours in return.”

She laughs a little, as if he’s jesting. “That hardly seems equal. A mortal heart for a god’s?”

“Your heart,” Solas says, in a gentle correction. “For mine.” He does not kiss her, like he wants to. He does not stop her kissing him. 

The press of her mouth is a summer fruit, warm and sweet and bruising lightly beneath their wanting, their mutual hunger grown apparent. 

Only once has he kissed her before this. A dream, an impulse, he’d told himself then. A mistake that he wouldn’t repeat, no matter how tempting. 

So he’s grateful, now, that she’s been drinking, that she’s given him an out. He can call this her impulse, even as he takes more, tastes more. He can call this next part chivalry. He knows a lie when he hears one. 

“We can’t,” he says, when they come apart. “You are not yourself, and the hour is late. You should get some sleep.”

She’s disappointed, he thinks– and is it cruel to hope she is? To hope she still wants him as he wants her, even as he turns her away? 

Best not to dwell on it.  

“I will help you upstairs,” he tries again, and she brightens a little. “Can you manage the walk?”

There’s a part of him that wishes she’ll say no, give him an excuse to lift and carry her to her quarters, to feel the weight of her pressed against him. But she says, “Yes,” and, “I’m not so far gone,” and Solas breathes out another laugh. 

He knows a lie when he hears one.

All the same, he takes her hand in his, lets her lean on him as they make the long walk to her quarters, each step its own little feat. She stumbles more than once; more than once, he catches her gently. 

It is worth being gentle for her. 

In her room he removes her boots, knelt on the floor as if at an altar. He hardly knows the last time he knelt, only knows that now he wants to.

When he rises she says, “Thank you,” and the following word may be his name, or another entirely. Solas tries to ignore it, tries to let the sound be lost in the lingering silence but he needs to know, as he always does, needs to be certain. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘thank you,’” she hums, laying back on the bed, and this time he leans in close to hear the rest. 

“Salath.” *****

The walk back to his quarters is longer, somehow. 

He thinks of her all the way, her hair in a dark spill across the pillows, the way she rolled the old sounds of his language around in her mouth. He thinks of her when he undresses, when he slips into his own bed, when he indulges in the fantasy of feeling her under and around him. Just this once, he thinks, as his hand begins to move beneath the covers, slow at first and then more desperate. Just this once won’t hurt, won’t hurt, won’t– 

Ah.  

He is in love, he knows it now, as he shudders and gasps out her name. How tragic it is, and how lovely. How foolish, how sweet. His love for her could level cities. It could grow flowers.

A mortal heart for a god’s. Beloved, beloved. 

He imagines what he would sacrifice for her, if he has to, when he has to. The answer surfaces in his mind like something dredged up from unfathomable depths, some unknown factor which demands to be accounted for, and which fills him with dread.

“I would give everything,” he says aloud, to himself, to no one. 

The words hang in the air like ghosts, the same lament in all their mouths.  Beloved, beloved. Tags by request (thank you, angels!): @meg-does-art, @lavellanart

[starlightandsouls]

Yours To Have, Yours to Break

Summary: What if instead of Nesta, Cassian found out about Azriel and his secret lover. What will happen when the hearty general, in his anger of being left out, causes his brother's happiness to fall apart? How will he atone for his mistake?

A/N: Of course I had to make my comeback with the angstiest angst to ever angst. And that too by turning my fluffiest fic into pure pain. I guess you can say that this this is a spin off of Yours to Keep and Cherish. Also... I know I dropped off the face of the earth but life happens guys. I'm sorta back and here's a fic to make up for it.

Disclaimer: If you're an Elain fan, I would recommend you not read this. I would hate to ruin your day. I do not hate Elain. This is just an idea I got from all the soap dramas I've been seeing recently. Don't kill me please.

Also this shit and not edited. But I was so desperate to post something that I honestly don't care. Hope y'all like it. And yes there will be a part 2

Cassian POV:

As the General of the Night Court’s armies, Cassian had many duties: training soldiers, commandeering battalions at the borders, coming up with war strategies, buying romance novels for his mate and her friends. He wasn’t sure when the last one made its way on his list of responsibilities, or who put it there, but there it was. And who was Cassian to deny his mate?

So that’s how the Lord of Bloodshed found himself standing aimlessly in the middle of the Rainbow, scratching his head, with a list in his hand. Nesta had sent him off to find the newest edition of a Sellyn Drake novel but he hadn’t the slightest idea where to find it. His mate had instructed him to visit a particular bookshop named “The Quill”, being sure that they would have the newest book. Unfortunately, because luck had named him its nemesis at birth, the bookshop was closed for the day. He had asked around and apparently the owner had just left an hour prior to his arrival. Of course, they had.

That is why he had been wandering around the Rainbow, walking into one bookshop after the other, but somehow not one of them had the book Nes wanted. What are the odds of that? How is it possible that only one bookshop in the entire city had this specific book? And why did it have to be closed today? Cassian knew returning empty handed would not only incur the wrath of his beloved mate, but also her Valkyrie sisters. And given the fact that he himself had been teaching them some new disarming techniques, he had no desire to become their training dummy.

While he did not intend on stopping his hunt, he was quite parched. As the summer season approached, afternoons in Velaris became increasingly sweltering. A chilled glass of wine would do just the trick to cool him down, and also relax his nerves. Just as he was deciding on which bar to stop at, he remembered a conversation he had had with Mor the other day. She had told him about a café she had discovered that served the best margaritas during lunch time. Honestly, she hadn’t stopped raving about it for almost a week. What the hell. He was already out in town, might as well try a new place. If it turned out to be good, he could bring Nesta to placate her in case he couldn’t find her book.

Mind made up, he took off to the air, the subtle breeze as he did so, instantly making him feel better. Gliding through the clouds, the twists and turns with wind, were always a guaranteed way of cooling down.

Said café was perched on a hill overlooking the Sidra. He took in the view and the lush gardens outside the café as he landed, and started to walk in. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; the décor a blend of elegance and coziness. Oh yeah, he was definitely bringing Nesta here for a date.

He had just given his order to a waitress who looked way too giddy writing it down. Thank the Mother Nesta wasn’t here. Or someone might as well have lost a hand.

Although this is one of the reasons why he didn’t like coming to restaurants and bars alone. Not having company meant he didn’t have anyone to share his stories and jokes with. So, as he waited for his order to arrive, he sat back and took in the people around him; a habit that looked casual enough but was one instilled in him during his years training in the Illyrian camps.

He had been admiring the view from the balcony in the corner when his order arrived. Smiling a thank you, he took a sip from his margarita and damn was it good as Mor had said. He made a silent note to himself to thank her for the recommendation. He was in the middle of another deliciously cold sip, when something caught his eye in the corner of the room, causing him to choke.

What. The. Fuck.

Cassian was sure he looked like a blubbering fish with how his jaw dropped open and his eyes bulged out their sockets. He had to be dreaming or hallucinating from the heat. Yes, that must have been it, the heat had surely gotten to his head. For Cassian could think of no other explanation for the sight in front of him.

His brother, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, torture extraordinaire, was sitting hand in hand with a beautiful young woman, smiling like a love-sick fool and… eating macarons? Since when did Azriel like deserts? Or the more pressing question: who the hell was he sitting with? Cassian knew his brother liked to keep his lovers secret, but deep down his gut told him this was no mere fling, or one-night stand. For starters, Azriel was smiling like a puppy drunk on love, while bringing the lady’s hand up to his lips to kiss. Cauldron. Just as Cassian had somewhat stopped gawking like a fish out of water, he saw the lady lean over and whisper something across the table, causing Azriel to throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

Although he couldn’t explain why, but at that moment Cassian felt a sharp hurt go through him. For he could not remember the last time Azriel had laughed like that with them. Damn it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had seen Azriel smile nearly as much as was doing now at any family function.

Before he could even begin to process what had unfolded before him, he saw Azriel pay the bill for their food and the couple walked out hand in hand. Immediately Cassian was on his feet, ready to follow them. If someone had asked him why he did what he did at a later moment, he would not have been able to explain himself. At that moment, Cassian was driven only by curiosity and a minor note of hurt too-why had his brother hid this from them?

Rushing out after paying the bill, Cassian saw the happy couple walk down the cobblestone path, once again arm in arm, with the woman leaning against Azriel. Another thing that shocked Cassian: how the hell had Azriel not noticed him by now? Those pesky little shadows normally informed his brother of every detail of his surroundings; Azriel’s own heightened senses and observational skills were what made him the Spymaster of this court. So, for him to not notice Cassian so obviously trailing behind them at a distance, was a testament to how captivated his brother was by the woman on his arm.

At one-point Cassian thought that his brother would winnow with his partner and he would lose them, but the couple continued their stroll without a care in the world. He continued to trail behind them while also maintaining somewhat of a distance. Azriel may not be as hyper vigilant as always, but he wasn’t blind by any means- and Cassian was no small man either.

“Breakfast was delightful, darling. We should plan another afternoon here, what do you think?” he heard the woman comment.

“Of course, but I am oh so very tired. I think I need a few days alone at home with my nightingale to recharge,” Azriel replied with a smirk.

Cassian balked on the inside: okay Mr. I Don’t Need To Resort To Poetry.

“We could always have breakfast here again on Saturday. It is our two-year anniversary, and I intend on spending the day however my nightingale wishes. I think the café can be a brilliant start to our day,” Azriel offered, laughing as the woman swatted his arm at the previous comment.

Reaching the end of the path, Azriel grabbed the woman in his arms and winnowed away, leaving behind a thoroughly perplexed Cassian.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Cassian was convinced he must have stood there for another half an hour before coming to his senses. He then took off to the House of Wind, ready to face his mate and the Valkyries’ collective wrath. And his assumption had been right; the three women had blown up when they saw him return empty handed and had proceeded to go on twenty-minute-long rant. For the life of him, Cassian could not have repeated a single word they had said. Because he had not listened to a single word, at least not while paying attention. As their rage had quelled, Cassian had simple gotten up and walked to his room, ignoring the questioning looks from his mate.

While Nesta was still in the library with the girls, Cassian had retreated to bed. And that is where he was now: sitting in bed, staring at a wall, completely at a loss for words. He could not even begin to process what he had seen, let alone understand what he was feeling. For some reason he could not get over how openly Azriel had laughed with that woman, how alight his eyes had seemed. It was as if the Shadowsinger was glowing with happiness, as paradoxical as that sounds.

And it’s not like Cassian wasn’t happy for his brother-quite the contrary. He was just hurt that Azriel had chosen to hide something like this from him for two years. Two years. The words clanged around his head like the sharp tolling of a bell. Azriel had this from them for two goddamn years. And he had a sinking feeling that if he had not discovered the two of them today, he would not have found out for quite some more time.

But why? Keeping casual flings a secret was no big deal. They all had had ventures they didn’t tell anyone, he was sure of it. But if the couple were celebrating their two-year anniversary, then it must be serious. Cassian could tell his brother was committed just by how he had been looking at the woman. And if Azriel truly was serious about this woman, why would he hide it from them? His family?

That is the part that pierced his heart. Up until this day, Cassian had thought the two of them to be rather close. Sure, Rhys and Az clashed from time to time because of their own attitudes, but he liked to think that Azriel and him had always been close. Azriel was his best friend for Cauldron sake. Whenever he had had issues with Nesta at the beginning of their relationship-and he had plenty- Azriel had been his confidante, the one he went to for advice. His brother had been there for him at the highs and lows of his journey with Nesta.

So why hadn’t he let Cassian do that for him? Why had his brother chosen secrecy when he could have confided in Cassian? It’s not like he wouldn’t have supported them. He knew his brother was secretive and shy, but it was one thing to hide things about his work and another to choose to hide such a major part of his life from his brothers.

They were brothers, they were supposed to support each other, to stand by one another, not keep secrets and tell lies. All of a sudden Cassian saw the past two years in a different light. He recalled all the times Azriel had shown up to breakfast with an unusually cheery mood, all the times he had been rushing to leave family dinner, all the times he had skipped their get togethers with the strangest excuses. How long had this been going on? And for how long had they been so painfully oblivious?

Did Azriel not trust them? No, that can’t be it. Did Azriel think he could not open up to them? Each explanation he came up with seemed less plausible than the last. As he continued to spiral, Cassian began to question whether the two were as close as he thought them to be.

Why. Why. Why.

“You know if you stare at the wall any longer, you’re going to burn a hole into it.”

Nesta. He hadn’t even noticed when she had come into the room, and judging by her amused look, Cassian assumed she had been there for some time. Pushing off the wall she had been leaning against, Nesta walked over and sat by him on their bed.

“I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes, where’s your mind at?” Nesta asked while pushing some stray strands of hair behind his ear.

Shit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just tell Nesta something he himself wasn’t supposed to know. If he hadn’t walked into that café by chance, Cassian would have been none the wiser about this whole situation. For whatever reason Azriel was keeping his relationship secret, he didn’t think it his place to reveal it.

“It’s nothing, Nes. Just thinking about Wind Haven. I’m supposed to head up there next week and I already know Devlon’s going to be a pain in the ass,” Cassian tried to divert.

“Since when have you started getting so worked up over Devlon? He’s going to whine and throw a fit, but ultimately he is going to have to do what you say. You’re worried about something else. What is it?” his ingenious mate inquired. How her intuition was so good he’d never know, honestly sometimes he thought of handing over the mantle of General to her, with how good she was.

“C’mon. You know you can tell me whatever is bothering you,” Nesta pushed while grabbing his hand in her own and damn did he melt at that.

“Alright. If I tell you, you cannot tell anyone else.”

Nesta sat up straighter at that, ears perked with curiosity, eyes wide open and eager.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Nesta answered while nodding.

“I’m serious about this Nes. You can’t tell anyone, not even Emerie or Gwyn. No one,” Cassian reiterated, trying to get his mate to understand how serious it was.

“Alright, alright. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

Cassian sighed before revealing what was very much not his secret to reveal,

“Azriel has a girlfriend.”

“Wait-what?”

“Az has a girlfriend,” Cassian repeated.

“No, I heard you the first time. But…how…when??? Why hasn’t he told anyone?”

“I have no idea, Nes,” Cassian replied while falling back against the headboard. He once again took to staring at the wall; confusion and hurt running rampant through him again, echoing the same question again and again.

Why had Azriel kept this a secret from them? From him?

“When did he tell you?” his mate inquired.

“He didn’t,” Cassian chuckled, “I stopped at that new café by the Sidra to get some drinks to cool down while I was out for your books. I saw them together there.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Nesta barged on with her questions,

“You seem…upset about all this?”

“I am. Not at the fact that he has a girlfriend, Cauldron no. It’s about time the idiot found someone. It’s just…why didn’t he tell us? Why keep it a secret?”

“Maybe…it’s new? You know Az. Maybe he just wants some time to figure things out himself before he tells you all,” Nesta reasoned.

Cassian let out a bitter laugh before spitting out,

“It is very much not new. The two were planning their two year anniversary at the same restaurant this weekend. Two goddamn years, Nes. He’s been lying to us for that long.”

He wrenched his hand from hers at that. Cassian knew he was being unfair and unreasonable, but he was angry. Maybe he had no right to be but one does not think clearly when in the clutches of fury.

As his previous confusion and hurt settled, they left behind only anger in their wake. That is what he felt right now. Anger. At Azriel, for lying to them all this time, for hiding something so significant. Did he not consider them brothers?

Before he could succumb to the ravages of anger, his darling mate was there to pull him back, as she always did.

“I can feel all that you know. Don’t let your anger override what you know to be true. This relationship of Azriel…it has nothing to do with us. We’re not entitled to anything regarding it just because we’re his family.”

“Oh so what I’m just supposed to ignore the fact that he’s been lying to us about his whereabouts and plans for the past two years, when he could have just told us?”

“No I am asking you to trust Azriel. You know your brother, Cass, probably more than anyone else. You know that he has a reason for everything he does and you know that he would never do anything to hurt his family intentionally. If nothing else, trust in that.”

Cassian sighed a defeated sigh. His mate was right, as she always was. For whatever reason Azriel had decided to keep this relationship a secret, Cassian would have to trust in it. And when the time came, he hoped his brother would feel comfortable revealing the truth himself.

……………………………………..................................................

Little did Cassian know, that despite the fact that he had made Nesta swear not to tell Azriel’s secret, he had unintentionally revealed it to a third. For outside their bedroom clutching books she had meant to return, stood Elain. Elain, who had almost torn the books with how hard she was clutching them. Elain, who’s hands quivered with rage.

This is why Azriel had been ignoring her. All these months she had been trying to get his attention and he had always slipped away. Because of this?? Some common girlfriend?

No matter. Elain would get him back. How could he ignore her for some commoner? Who deserved his love more than her?

As she walked away, already planning her schemes, a wicked thought went through her mind, a precaution in case she couldn’t convince Azriel:

If I can’t have him, no one can.

...............................................................................................

Azriel POV:

The past few days had been the happiest he had ever been. Although Azriel wasn’t quite sure how fair that judgement was. Each hour he spent with his nightingale, he deemed his happiest. And it has been two years of such blissful happiness. Two years together at each other’s side that they were celebrating today.

He had already arrived at the same café they had breakfast a few days ago and was now anxiously awaiting his beloved girlfriend. Honestly, he would have preferred that the two arrive together, not wanting to spend a minute away from his nightingale. But alas, not everything had to be as he wished. As soon as she had woken up, his nightingale had slipped out from his arms (something he had still not forgiven) and had rushed to her book shop. According to her, she had some urgent delivery that she just had to be there for. Therefore she had promised him that she would meet him directly at the café.

That left him, sitting in their favorite spot in the café, with his head swiveling to the door every time it opened, hoping his nightingale had arrived. It wasn’t like she was late, it’s just that he too early, wanting what he hoped would be a great start to a celebration filled day.

“Oh, Azriel!”

He heard his name be called, but his heart instantly dropped, that voice did not belong to his nightingale. Turning around he saw…

“Elain? What are you doing here?”

“What a coincidence, Az! I was just out for some errands and thought I would get myself a drink. I’m absolutely parched! Thank the Cauldron for this lovely café!” Elain replied in an unusually high pitched voice.

“Yes, how lovely…” he trailed off, gaze flicking to the door. He knew his girlfriend would be arriving soon and he would much rather Elain not be here for that… for a plethora of reasons.

“Well, what are the chances of meeting you here Az? And look, you’re alone too! Why don’t we have lunch together, it feels like we haven’t caught up in forever.”

“Actually I’m meeting some…”

He never got to finish his sentence. If someone asked him later what happened, Azriel wasn’t sure he would be able to explain it. One second Elain was smiling at him, trying to grab his hand, the next her gaze turned cold, flicking to something behind him. The next thing he knew, within a matter of seconds, Elain had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and smashed her lips to his.

What. The. Fuck.

Azriel didn’t even process what had happened, didn’t even realize that she was kissing him. Elain. Was. Kissing. Him.

The last thought jolted him out of his state of shock and he pushed her away. Not caring for who saw or heard, he yelled,

“What the fuck Elain? You can’t just grab people like that! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh c’mon Az. It was barely a peck. I had barely begun to enjoy it,” Elain replied with a callous smirk.

All of a sudden he did not recognize her; he didn’t recognize the cruelty in her eyes, the indifference in her expression. Where was the kind hearted woman he considered a friend? And who was standing in front of him in her place? When he didn’t say anything, still riddled with shock, Elain continued,

“Well no matter. It may have been short but it achieved it’s purpose,” Elain replied slyly. She inched closer and grazed her hand up his arm and whispered, “if you want to continue, I would gladly indulge you, Azriel.”

He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with her, why she was doing this, in a crowded café no less. But Azriel was way too uncomfortable to try to find out. He wrenched his arm away from her and was about to give her a piece of his mind when he saw it again: Elain’s gaze flickering to something behind him with a wicked smirk on her face. One of victory.

Hoping against hope it wasn’t what he feared it was, Azriel turned around. And it was like time itself had stopped. For there, at the entrance of the café, with tears streaming down her face, stood his girlfriend, his nightingale. A millennia could pass and Azriel would not forget the raw pain, the betrayal shining in her eyes amidst the tears.

No. No. No. No. No. This is not happening. This cannot be happening.

He took one step toward her, to explain, to make her understand he had no fault in what she had seen. But before he could, his nightingale turned around and left the café.

Not knowing what to do, Azriel followed after her to see her almost running away from him.

“Love! Please! Listen to me, its not what it looks like,” Azriel begged, anguish lacing every word.

“Oh please Azriel. Do you know how typical you sound right now?” He did, Cauldron he did. But she had to understand…

“Darling I would never hurt you like that. I don’t even know why she was there… or how… but you have to understand… she kissed me! I pulled away… I would never do that to you,” Azriel let out. He knew his fragmented thoughts probably didn’t make much sense. But panic and fear were making it difficult to come up with something cohesive.

“Really, Azriel? You don’t know what she was doing there?! For Cauldron sake, Azriel! I know you called her there. You know, if you wanted to break up with me, you should have done it yourself like a man. You didn’t have to use her for it!” his nightingale spat at him.

What? Break up with her? Break up with the one blessing the Mother had bestowed upon him? What the hell was she talking about?

“Love… I don’t…”

“You don’t what? Huh? Have any need for me anymore? Well you don’t have to worry about me getting in the way, please go enjoy your life with your darling Elain?” His girlfriend yelled, throwing out Elain’s name like it was poison.

Vaguely he sensed Elain coming up behind them. How did she catch up with them? His love spat out a wry laugh, before saying,

“Look, she’s here to get you Azriel. Go be with your love.”

Before he could refute it, Elain jumped in,

“Its okay, Azriel. I told her everything. She’s not in the way anymore. We can be together now!”

“Elain, have you lost your mind? What the hell are you doing? Why are you doing this? You-”

“Cut the act Azriel. Go. Enjoy your life.”

And with that his nightingale walked away for good, taking the shattered pieces of his heart and soul with her.

… … … … … … … … … … … …

Azriel stood in that spot like a blubbering fish for Cauldron knows how long. He was smarter than this. He was quicker than this. He knew that. But for some reason his mind felt addled, like it was submerged in some murky fog. He couldn’t think straight for some reason.

What the fuck had just happened? Did it truly happen? No, it had to be a nightmare. It had to be. He didn’t just lose the love of his life. He didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Azriel had almost convinced himself of his own delusion, when Elain’s rustling snapped him out of his daze. The woman had the gall to walk away after everything she just did. Not so fast. He grabbed her by the arm and yelled in her face, propriety and etiquette long forgotten,

“WHAT THE FUCK ELAIN? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?”

She wrenched her arm back and held her head up high when responding, as if she just had just committed some honorable deed,

“I did what I had to. You were never there Azriel. I always tried to talk to you… but you were never there. And to find out that it’s because of her! Some commoner! I couldn’t bear it. But she’s not here anymore, Azriel, we can be together!”

“What?! Are you hearing yourself Elain? I don't love you! Not like that, I never have-”

“BUT I LOVE YOU! WHY ISN’TTHAT ENOUGH!” Elain screamed back.

“You’re out of your mind. You… how did you even find out?”

“Cassian told me,” Elain replied calmly, her demeanor immediately changing. There was something seriously wrong with her.

But her words were what caused his world to stop spinning.

“What?”

“Cassian told me. He saw the two of you together the other day and told me that I would find you here today as well.”

His mind was reeling. Cassian knew too? How? He had been so careful with everything? How had it slipped past him so easily?

Elain patted his shoulder one last time before saying,

“We’re meant to be together, Azriel. I love you so much that I’ll ignore this commoner you were sullying yourself with. She might have left you. But I’m always here for you with open arms.”

And then Elain left, simply and quietly. As if she had not sentenced Azriel to a life without the one happiness he had salvaged for himself in this cruel world.

..........................................................................................

Cassian POV:

Cassian had been sharpening his blades in the training arena, waiting for the Valkyries to arrive, when he felt the wards shift. Someone had winnowed in. Before he could question who it was, he saw Azriel standing at the entrance.

Despite Nesta’s words, his immediate reaction at seeing his brother was one of annoyance. He doubted Azriel was here to confess so the continuing secrecy bothered him even now.

Any rant or anger that Cassian was planning on letting out, disappeared as he neared his brother. Azriel had tears streaming freely down his face, shoulders shaking from the sobs.

“How could you?”

Was all his brother let out. Cassian was at a complete loss for words. His brave stoic brother was falling apart before him and Cassian knew neither cause nor cure. His lion hearted brother who had bared five centuries of pain and trials and had never let out even a wince. And now… It seemed like something was tearing Azriel apart into shreds.

“Az, what’s wrong? I-

“How could you?” Azriel repeated, his sobs getting more and more violent. And each falling tear fell like acid on Cassian’s heart. All previous annoyance was replaced by an overwhelming urge to soothe and comfort.

“How could you? What did I ever do to you?” Azriel cried out again.

“Az… brother… I have no idea…”

“Oh don’t act stupid. Don’t act like you don’t know about my girlfriend!”

Oh. That is what this was about? Azriel knew that he knew? But why was he so upset about it? Cassian didn’t think him finding out warranted such a reaction-

“You knew and you send Elain there to ruin everything!”

What? Elain? What did she have anything to do with this?

“You ruined everything! My nightingale… she’s gone… she won’t even talk to me… She won’t look at me… And it’s all your fault!” Azriel let out in between hiccups of tears.

Cassian knew he had to intervene before Azriel spiraled into a full panic attack.

“Brother, calm down. Alright, yes I saw the two of you at the café, but I only told Nesta, I swear on it. I have no idea what you’re talking about, or what Elain has to do with anything.”

Azriel moved further away from him. The utter betrayal shining in his eyes made Cassian want to bury himself in the darkest corner of the world. He did not know what his fault was but he was ready to spend eternity atoning for it if it meant Azriel would no longer be in the pain he was so clearly in.

“DO NOT LIE TO ME!” Azriel roared, leaving Cassian stunned, “ You did this! You couldn’t bear it, could you? You couldn’t stand the fact that I was happy so you sent Elain to ruin everything. You always do this, you always have to take everything away from me!”

Before Cassian could ask for an explanation or beg for forgiveness for a crime he did not know, Azriel had winnowed away.

Alone, his mind was working on overdrive. What did Elain have to do with anything? Cassian was no fool. He had long been aware of the youngest Archeron sister’s affections for his brother. But he also knew his brother had never reciprocated those affections, had always seen Elain as nothing more than a friend.

How did she know about Azriel’s relationship? Nesta could not have told her. Despite how close the two sisters were, his mate had sworn to him and he knew Nesta enough to know that she did not go back on an oath. Had Elain somehow overheard them? And if she had, what could she possibly have done to cause Azriel so much pain?

So many questions were whirring through his head, not one of them had a coherent answer. But amidst the chaos, a singular thought rang the loudest, and it was one that pierced Cassian’s heart:

What have I done?

[patrophthia]

congrats for the 1K!! would love to read a fic where reader has been loosing her vaseline lip therapy boxes and she asks theo where it’s gone, he says he doesnt know abt them but he took some 2 see why reader likes it sm & now hes obsessed aswell 🥹 thx uu

hi omg thank you! i always see you on my notifs and am so glad you finally sent in an ask!!!

dirty little liar | theodore nott

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, shy theo and he’s so cute about it

part of my 1k celebration event !

Theodore Nott (your beloved boyfriend) is a dirty little liar. He wasn’t a good liar at the start of your relationship, and he sure as hell wasn’t one now; sitting pretty on the Slytherin’s common room sofa with his bag a few inches away from him, the flaps open after his attempts at pulling out a quill.

You’re slightly frustrated when you find him, brows furrowed as you scan your surroundings for the small tub you’ve grown so fond off. “Theo, have you seen my lip therapy?”

Theodore cocks his head at your words, feigning cluelessness as to what your ‘lip therapy’ was. “No?” He supplies, sounding unsure of himself.

You don’t really think too much of it though, this was the third time this week you’ve asked him this very question. Each time pretending as if he doesn’t know what it was you’re looking for.

“Are you sure?” You ask again with a slight disappoint glint in your eyes.

He hesitates, wanting to let up yet he’s played this game for too long to let loose of it so easily. “Mhmm,” he hums.

You sigh, taking a seat besides him on the sofa. Your thigh bumps into his bag slightly, knocking out the contents within its pocket. You frown a bit, picking up the items that spills out of it.

Gum. Quill. A few sickles. Eye drops. Another quill. Vaseline lip therapy.

Wait, Vaseline lip therapy?

You hold the small container in your hand, looking up at Theodore suspiciously to only find him looking back at you with a sheepish smile. You have half the mind to throw it at his face and call him a filthy liar while the other half of you want to shut down and take in the utter betrayal from your boyfriend’s actions. Instead, you stay calm and ask him to: “explain yourself.”

Theodore bites the corner of his cheeks, eyeing the tub in your hand carefully. “Uhm— you’ve always had it— it was always laying around, and I knew you used it so kept it for you.”

“You kept it for me?” You ask him, untrusting. Theodore nods. “Then why did you say no when I asked you if you’ve seen it.”

He’s dead. Not figuratively. He just really fucked up, didn’t he? “I forgot?” As if it couldn’t have gotten worse, he gives you the worst lie you’ve ever heard.

“Right.” You’re nodding, and he thinks he might actually get away with it. But things are never that easy, is it? “Tell me the truth or we’re through.”

Surely, you don’t mean— nope, your face is too stern for you to be bluffing. He’s shy when he answers you truthfully: “you’re always using it I just— I wanted to know why you liked it so much so I tried it and just forgot to place it back where I found it.”

“And the other two?”

“Malfoy and Zabini saw me using it and stole it for themselves,” he grunts, clearly annoyed by his friends behaviors. You laugh and he’s the one to frown now. “What?”

“Nothing,” you giggle, “you’re just cute.”

The tip of his ears singes red, cheeks heating at your words. “So you’re not mad at me?”

You laugh again, rolling your eyes playfully as you tossed the small container in his direction. He catches it with ease, eyes shifting between you and the tub. “Just mad enough to remind you that you owe me three of these little replacements.”

When you stand up, his dark eyes are still on yours; lips jutting out slightly as your warmth slips away from the sofa where you sat mere seconds ago. And when you lean down, placing a short kiss on his lips (one he was quick to return) out of pity, you can’t help but comment on how it: “seems like the stolen products were doing its job.”

— from bee: i need to apologize for long it took me to write this, im really sorry bae omg TT

[luvrrszn]

mean

REMUS LUPIN x FEM READER

summary full moon turns your remus into someone unrecognisable

warnings angst probably, probably inaccurate hp facts, bad writing, not proofread, probably a piece of trash i just needed it out of my drafts lol

a/n it has been SO long since i've written for hp so it's probably full of inaccuracies 😭 take everything with a grain of salt and PLEASE send in more requests ily

masterlist

james has a shit-eating grin on his face when you walk in.

“oh, bloody hell. what is it now?” you groan as you flop onto your boyfriend's, remus's, bed.

"wait till you see what pads did to snape's robes." james reveals, unable to contain his grin.

"oh c'mon, jamie. when are you guys gonna get tired of picking on him? you guys are gonna get in serious trouble one day, i'm tellin ya." you sigh as you try to find a comfortable position to sit in.

just then, the door swings open to reveal sirius and your beloved boyfriend, remus. sirius has his usual smirk, while remus looks a little more down than usual. you check the date on the calendar next to his bed and realises it's almost full moon.

he takes off his shoes and slides into his bed next to you. you snuggle up next to him, and he rests an arm around your shoulder.

"should we go to hogsmeade this weekend?" james suggests, and you nod, saying animatedly, "yes please. i need new quills, and i'd like to pop by honeydukes."

usually, remus chides you for the sheer amount of sugar you consume. this time, he remains silent. this is your first clue that something's wrong.

while james and sirius argue over nothing, you turn to face remus, eye full of concern. you ask, "remmy, are you okay? you've barely said a word all day."

"i'm fine," he replies. you're left puzzled, by the lack of endearment. but you decide not to push any further, turning your attention back to the book you had just picked off his nightstand.

"is that my book? why are you always touching my things?" remus snatches the book out of your hands, only to receive perplexed glances from james and sirius.

"oi, loosen up, moony. it's just a book, don't be mean." james stands up for you. so does sirius, saying, "yeah moony, don't be an arse."

remus just ignores them.

an hour passes, and so does about four different conversation between james, sirius and you. remus has barely spoken a word, and you're getting more and more concerned by the second.

"remmy, are you sure you're okay? are you feeling unwell?" you ask, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead.

"i'm fine, stop worrying," he says, curt. you're a bit shocked, by the tone he's taken with you and the way he barely looks at you.

"oh, merlin. do you ever shut up? all you do is talk and talk and talk. will you leave me alone for one bloody second?" remus snaps at you.

james and sirius immediately stop talking, and stare at remus in shock. remus worships the ground you walk on, never in a million years would they imagine him talking to you like this.

you're equally shocked yourself. you knew remus had a short temper around full moon, but his anger was never, never, directed towards you.

you get up from the bed and it takes everything for you to not cry in front of your friends. you say softly, "i think i'm going to go back to my room. goodnight, guys."

"dove, wait," remus calls out, his voice apologetic.

you pretend you don't hear him and walk out of the door, not looking back once.

—

when you push open the door to your dorm room, with tears streaming down your face, lily immediately beckons you over to her bed.

"oh, dear. what happened now?" she asks gently, holding you in her arms as she strokes your hair.

"boys are assholes." you grumble.

"tell me something i don't know." lily chuckles.

she holds you as you cry. she silently vows to not let remus near you any time in the next few weeks.

—

and just as she promised herself she would, lily had you surrounded with friends for the next few weeks, making it impossible for remus to reach you, or for you to reach him.

full moon had come and gone, and it killed you to know that you weren't there for remus while he went through it.

you weren't left to dwell on it for long, with all your friends always surrounding you, keeping you occupied.

remus, however, was left to stress over the fact that he hadn't been able to make it up to you, and not for a lack of trying. with lily and your friends around you round the clock, he never had an opportunity to approach you without death glares from four different girls.

his opportunity arises when you fall off your broom while playing quidditch.

—

"madam pomfrey, i'm fine, please, let me go back o—" you plead, only to be cut off.

"nonsense, dear. you need to be kept for observation. i won't have you go back out to play." she shakes her head, and disappears to tend to another student.

the door creaks open, and you see a familiar face poke in.

your boyfriend, whom you haven't spoken to in three weeks.

he has a sheepish look on his face as he sits down on the chair next to the bed you're lying on.

"dove, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have snapped at you like that, especially not in front of our friends. i was stressed, but it's still no excuse for the way i treated you. i hope you can forgive me." he says, gently taking your hand in his.

you let out a sigh, saying, "it was really mean, remmy."

"i know, i know, dove. and i'm so, so sorry. i should have never spoken to you that way. I'll never speak to you like that ever again, swear. else you can chop my balls off, i swear." he replies, giving you a small smile.

"fine, remmy. but you're an absolute arse, i hope you know that."

"i promise you i do." he replies as he presses a kiss into your hair.

[maiiiwrites]

★ | WARM HUGS AND PJS . JPEG

PAIRING ! george weasley x f!reader

IN WHICH you spend xmas morning with your beloved or in ron’s words accidentally traumatizing him forever

how odd. the common room felt unusually cold despite the warmth flickering from the fireplace. it made you feel alone, a sentiment you've always felt during the holidays. but something about this year felt different.

maybe it's because of the comfort that tightly clung onto you.

"georgie.. baby.." you murmured.

a small hum escaped the giant redhead. despite that, he remained still. with no intention of letting you go. if possible, it seemed that he snuggled even closer to you.

you giggle at his clingy antics. "baby you have to let me go."

"mhmph no," george dismissed.

you knew you have to find a way to make him let you go before the students start rushing down.

"georgie we can't be found like this."

"and why is that love? you ashamed of me?" he frowned.

godric did he look absolutely adorable with his tiny pout. you gently ran your fingers through his bright red locks. noticing how george unconsciously leans into your touch.

"it's not that baby. you know that i love you, but do you really want to be teased this early? on christmas day?"

his brows furrowed as if he's contemplating his options. "i don’t mind if–"

aaaack!

a shriek from behind pulled your attention away from your lover. you couldn't help but laugh at ron’s disgusted face. "seriously?! this early in the morning?!" he groaned, shielding his eyes as if he walked in on an inappropriate scene.

"my apologies ron," you utter.

you eventually see harry and hermione come down the stairs and stand behind ron. hermione asks why ron is standing there looking like an idiot, something which he grumbles about. they were quick to check the tree and go through their presents.

"yn! look mom got you something!" ron cheered.

"and nothing for you george," he taunted, sticking his tongue out at him.

much to george's dismay, you untangle your limbs and walk towards his younger brother. "how sweet of mrs. weasley!" happily receiving the gift. it's been a while since you've received a gift given out of love. you carefully unwrap the gift, anticipating what lies beneath all the wrapping.

you soften spotting a matching set of pajamas. it's the perfect size for you and george. tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at the pjs in your hands. george, who has been watching you with pure adoration, notices how silent you've become.

"love?" he calls out.

slowly, you stood up and made your way towards george. burying your face at the crook of his neck, feeling safe enough to let out quiet sobs. george instinctively wraps his arms around you. he holds you close, muttering 'i love you's and assurance.

after a few minutes of simply basking in his embrace, you pull back to admire his features. you bring your hand up to brush along his freckled dusted cheeks. leaning in for a quick kiss that left him chasing after your lips.

"let's change into these, stay in, and cuddle all day. how's that sound?" you offer.

a lopsided grin made its way onto his face. he pulls you up and catches you off guard when he carries you bridal style. you were both a giggling fit as you made your way up to his dorm.

one thing was for certain, this year was definitely the best holidays you've had so far.

bonus:

harry speaks up once you've left, "it's like they're in their own little world."

"it's disgusting really," ron gagged.

hermione was quick to hit him. "they're adorable! you just won’t know a thing about romance. i bet you can’t even woo a girl."

ron frowns and quickly defends himself, saying how he did manage to go on a date once! which hermione ignores, her attention on the wonderful quill mrs. weasley gifted her.

© maiiiwrites — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[ladyoflindon]

Stressful Night (Ereinion Gil-galad, Rings of Power)

Author’s note: Itarille Peredhel is Gil-galad’s queen, and she’s Elrond’s sister. In this story, she’s bothered by a lot more work than usual, a much heavier workload. Gil is the supportive and affectionate husband behind closed doors, a comfort for her. (“Q.”  is meant to denote the use of Quenya, while “S.” denotes the use of Sindarin)

TW: Blood (from a paper cut wound)

Sighing internally, Itarille picked up her quill for the umpteenth time that day and signed the proffered document with a flourish. “Send it to King Oropher,” she spoke, exhaustion evident in her voice. “Make it hasty, or I’ll be receiving a host of complaints from the Greenwood again.”

“Yes, High Queen,” the messenger nodded before dashing out of the room, his feet barely making any sound. For that, at least, Itarille was thankul. She turned her attention to the next document, smiling as she read the elegant script. At least this one was from Elrond, about some matters he’d noticed while going about his duties as Herald of Lindon. She set it aside, deciding that it would be better to allow the High King to read about it as well before passing judgement.

Ah. The High King. Itarille had been so busy that she hadn’t been able to spend time with her husband the entire day, save for breakfast. He had headed out to the Grey Havens to speak with Círdan the Shipwright, and was absent from the palace for most of the day. He’d only recently returned, and from what his assistant, Estedir, had told her, the High King was thoroughly wiped out. She had spent her day taking up his duties at the palace, in addition to her own.

Smiling wryly, Itarille reached for another document. As she reached out to grab it, a sharp pain shot up the tip of her finger. Hissing, Itarille pulled her hand away, only to find a bleeding paper cut. Biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out in frustration, Itarille decided to look for the first aid kit. Alas, she’d forgotten to bring it back to her study after using it a few weeks ago.

She had had enough. With the mounting pile of documents on her desk, and the concern that Oropher of the Greenwood would have another complaint about her reply to him, Itarille had been driven mad. Her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, unsure of what exactly she was feeling at the moment. She stood up from her chair and told the guard standing outside the door that she would be leaving the night. With a respectful murmur of “High Queen” from the guard, Itarille strode briskly down the hallway, the hem of her gown trailing behind her.

It didn’t take long for her to reach the quarters she shared with her beloved High King. She stepped inside, cautious of remaining silent in case he was asleep. She had assumed he was asleep, and the sight of him standing by the window, staring at the starry sky above surprised her.

“Melda (Q. beloved),” Ereinion’s smooth voice called out. He walked towards her, intending to give her a kiss. His attention, however, was drawn to the drop of blood falling from the tip of her finger and dripping against the marble floors. It was soft, but he heard the sound as the drop made contact with the marble. “What happened?”

“Paper cut,” Itarille huffed. “I need a bath, can we discuss this later?” Ereinion was taken aback by the intensity in her voice. She shot him a brief glare before heading to her closet to grab a robe and walking to the adjacent chamber to take a bath.

When Itarille emerged, she was clothed in a white nightgown. In Ereinion’s opinion, a vision, like Varda herself. He rose from their shared bed, reaching out towards her to grasp her hand. “You’ve dealt with the wound, I see,” he spoke glancing briefly at the bandage on her finger.”

“I have,” Itarille said. “Can we go to bed now? I’m exhausted. It’s been such a long day.”

Ereinion was about to nod, when he saw the look in her eyes. It was one he hated seeing, the look of utter defeat. “What happened today, my starlight?” He murmured, gently easing her into bed and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“I prefer not to talk about it.” Itarille sniffed. Ereinion almost laughed out loud internally; he knew his wife was a hypocrite when it came to matters like this. Sooner or later, everything would spill forth from her perfect lips.

“You know, Oropher sent another message today. He wanted me to sign it and send it back to the Greenwood the same day it arrived,” she said. “And your courtiers, they just won’t get off my back. Insufferable, the lot of them!”

Ereinion allowed himself a small chuckle. “Ah, but you’ve been handling it with such grace, my darling. Isn’t that right?”

“That’s an understatement,” she replied huffily. “There, I’ve told you everything. Can we go to bed now?”

The High King smiled briefly, lying back in bed and opening his arms to her. Itarille snuggled up to him, her head on his chest. She heard the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as she traced her fingers along his arm. “Yes, we can, my love,” Ereinion leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’ve done so much for me today, helping to take over my palace duties. I cannot thank you enough.”

Itarille’s patience was almost worn out. “Thank me by sealing your lips shut and letting me get some sleep. Shh!” The High King smirked. “You want to shut me up? Why don’t you do it yourself?”

There was a daring gleam in his eyes. Itarille knew exactly what he wanted, but her need for sleep was more pressing. She picked up a pillow and threw it at his face. “Goodnight, High King. Go to bed.” The last thing she recalled hearing before drifting into slumber was the soft laughter of Ereinion.

Her silly High King.

Author's note: Wow, churning out two fics in one day! I'm pleasantly surprised, but Elrond and Gil-galad are my comfort elves.

[cevansbrat0007]

Disturbing the Peace

Summary: You're keeping a secret from Ari - one that you'll have to tell him about eventually. Right?

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Death, Pet Names, Corporate Intimidation, Anxious Reader, Cursing, Minors DNI.

A/N: Takes place earlier in my Sweet Renegades Series timeline. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You stare down at the notice in your hands, your mouth suddenly dry as your eyes proceed to scan the words on the page for the third time. You’d found it wedged between your doors only moments ago after closing down your shop for the night. 

Which meant someone had been out there watching – waiting – for the right moment to strike. Without the benefit of an audience. Fucking coward.   

Even still, that fact unnerved you to no end. Especially since the piece of paper you were holding seemed different from the others you’d received over the previous months. They’d been polite and professional, albeit a bit pushy.

But not this one.

This letter was short and to the point. Greystone & Reeves Real Estate Group was done beating around the bush. They were giving you one last chance to meet so that the two of you could finally begin discussing the terms of the sale of your beloved shop, Baubles & Quills. 

The one thing you’d promised your late uncle, Lenny, you’d never do.

But unfortunately for you, that didn’t seem to matter overly much to the pushy group. They were clearly tired of being ignored - a tactic that you’d employed with them from the beginning. 

When you’d first received a letter from them you’d laughed it off before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash. You’d also done the same with the second. But by the time you’d received the third you’d been hoppin’ mad. So mad that you’d left a less than polite voicemail with their receptionist telling them that their entire company could “suck dirt and die”, because that’s exactly what you would do before you ever thought about signing away the deed to your shop.

After that, things were quiet for a time. So quiet that you forgot all about that stupid Greystone and his dimwitted lackey, Reeves. In fact, the last time you’d heard anything from them had been right after Ari had rolled into town. 

Come to think of it, you’d actually lit that letter on fire while wishing you could do the same to their headquarters – wherever they seemed to be located. Oddly enough, you hadn’t actually been able to dig up much about them online. Just that they seemed to have set up shop in several different counties surrounding Bell’s Creek.

You couldn’t make heads nor tails of why they were so interested in your property or your land. But at the end of the day, their motivations didn’t really matter.

Because you weren’t fucking selling. Not now, not ever. 

Baubles & Quills wasn’t just your place of business, but also your refuge. It was part of the legacy your uncle had left behind as a gift to the little girl who had spent so much of her childhood curled up in the overstuffed armchair in his office with her nose buried in a book. 

Long story short, you’d made a promise to the man who’d loved you like a daughter. And you intended to keep it. 

So, tomorrow you’d call Greystone & Reeves and threaten them with whatever your paralegal buddy, Erica, suggested. You’d been meaning to call her anyway so that you two could catch-up on life, as well as all things related to Mr. Ari “Beast” Levinson.

The sound of your phone ringing suddenly breaks the silence, giving you a mini-heart attack in the process. You can tell by the ringtone that it’s Ari on the other end, which has you answering without hesitation. 

“Uh, hey.” You cough out, shaking your head as you try to clear your mind. “What’s up, Beast?” You do your best to keep your tone light and breezy, not wanting him to pick up on your distress. 

Mostly because you’d never thought to mention any of the threatening letters you’d received over the last several months. Even when Ari had stopped by that one fine day to interrogate you about your relationship with Martin you’d chosen to keep that piece of information close to the vest. 

After all, it wasn’t like your Bounty Hunter could do much about it anyway. Not to mention that you’d had no idea that your relationship would ultimately progress the way it did.

Bottom line: nobody needed to know, least of all your handsome Beast. Wait. Except for Erica. She could know. Because otherwise, how else would she be able to tell you what scary things to say? 

It’s only then when you hear your name on the other line that you realize your thoughts must’ve wandered. “I’m sorry, babe. Can you please repeat that?” You mutter, scrubbing a tired hand over your face. “It’s been a long day and I’m afraid my mind is already worrying about tomorrow’s delivery.”

There was no delivery slated for tomorrow, but a little white lie never hurt anyone. Right?

“S’alright, little Bird. I know you’re tired but – wait. I thought you weren’t expecting any more deliveries for the rest of the month?” The sound of his deep, slightly roughened voice has your pulse quickening as a fresh wave of heat pools in your belly.

“I…” You trail off, your fingers coming to pinch the bridge of your nose. Serves you right for trying to lie to the one man who actually paid attention to 99.9% of the shit that you said on a daily fucking basis. 

“Guess I forgot.” You finish lamely, tucking the phone between your shoulder and your ear so that you can get moving. “I’m about to leave Baubles, though. Am I still picking us up something from Holtman’s Diner or did you change your mind?"

“Holtman’s is fine, baby.” Ari responds after a couple of seconds. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

And there it was. Granted, it didn’t sound like suspicion so much as it did concern…

But still. 

“I’m great, Beast. Pinky promise.”

Gritting your teeth you return your attention to the stupid piece of paper in front of you. But instead of balling it up and tossing it into the garbage, you decide to neatly fold it and tuck it into your purse.

Next you pull out your keys, followed by your handy dandy taser. And just to be safe, you decide to go ahead and swipe the nearby exacto knife sitting on an unopened box containing some random celebrity’s latest memoir. 

“I still think you sound funny, Duchess.”

Fuck, this man – your man – was like a goddamned bloodhound. And once he caught a scent he didn’t give up until he had his prey cornered and ready to spill their guts. 

“Augh!” You hiss as you sling your purse over one shoulder before collecting the rest of your things. “Sweetheart, I just told you I’m tired. That’s literally it. Hold on while I get the alarm.” Biting your lip you type in the passcode needed to arm your system before swiftly unlocking and exiting through the front.      

“I’m all set now. About to jump into my ride and head to Holtman’s.” Of course, you’re quick to interrupt when he attempts to turn the focus back to you. “Tell me about your day, handsome.”

Ari did not need to know that you were hovering just outside of fight or flight mode, which is why you currently had your semi-legal taser at the ready. Plus the knife and the tiny container of pepper spray hooked on your keyring. 

Now that had been a gift from Ari.

Keeping your head on a swivel, you make quick work of locking everything back up before making a mad dash to your vehicle. An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you continue to scan the empty lot, searching for any signs of life.  

“Yeah?” You grunt as you throw yourself into your car before locking yourself in. “Well, maybe I can try working that knot out of your shoulder later.” With shaking hands you push the start button in your car and wait for your call to connect with your bluetooth. Thankfully it doesn’t take long. “And yes, please. You have my explicit permission to repay the favor, you ridiculous man.”

Oh goodness, I can’t breathe. Mary, Jesus, Joseph, help!

Body hunched, you Immediately you peel out of the lot and turn onto a main road. Now that you’re safe, you cast a glance in your rearview mirror, feeling grateful when you don’t see anything – save for a couple of raccoons hoping to get their hands on some garbage. 

“Woo!” You shout, triumphantly punching the roof of your car. “Hell yeah!” You’d officially made it out, which meant that you would hopefully live to fight another day. 

“Huh?” Ari growls into the receiver. 

“Um, I just say two baby blue mini-coopers drive down the road. Must be good luck, ya know?” 

“Right.” He doesn’t sound very convinced.

“And I just remembered that tonight’s special involves their homemade mashed potatoes and meatloaf. Still sound good?“ Without taking your eyes off the road, you drop the taser back into the center console of your car.

“Fine by me then.” Your Bounty Hunter replies, his response sounding just shy of frustrated. But I choose to ignore in favor of simply acting like tonight was okay, even when it wasn’t. “Be safe getting here. And if you change your mind about wanting to talk…”

“Nope.” 

After that you hang up and head to the diner, snagging you both a couple pieces of homemade pie to go with your food. A bit to eat and naked cuddles with your man would make things better. At least for a little bit. 

And quite honestly, you’d take what could get these days. The universe at least owed you that much.

END

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[starchasing-cryptid]

💌send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome.💌 💞

quill i actually love you sm you're the sweetest <3 YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME SMILE SO MUCH <33 right back at you 🫶

[thebirdandhersong]

okay okay okay this is GREAT

[doumadono]

CONGRATULATIONS !!! Could I please get a cup of vanilla ice cream with maple syrup, preferably for Neuvilette or Wrio or Itto? (I'll take whatever you're offering, your writing is flawless!)

A/N: thank you, dear Nonnie! You're so sweet! Since you didn't specify the plot, I decided to create a few short sweet scenes with the boys

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST GENSHIN IMPACT MASTERLIST

Wriothesley

Wriothesley found himself at a loss for words one dreary afternoon as he sat in his study, surrounded by stacks of parchment and ink-stained quills. Lost in thought, he was startled by the soft sound of your footsteps approaching.

"Wrio, darling, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with concern as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

The man sighed, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of vulnerability. "I fear I won't finish signing all these documents today, my dear. Try as I might, I cannot seem to finish this task that our beloved Neuvilette bestowed upon me."

Your eyes softened with understanding as you took a seat on his comfortable lap, your presence a comforting balm to his troubled soul. "Perhaps you simply need a gentle nudge in the right direction," you suggested with a tender smile. "If I were in your shoes, I'd suggest beginning with the lengthiest documents you have to sift through."

And so, with your encouragement, Wriothesely found himself immersed in a flurry of his stint, his quill dancing across the parchment. As the signatures flowed effortlessly from his pen, Wriothesley realized that his greatest muse that always helped him stayed focused had been by his side all along. As you settled into the comfortable embrace of his lap, his spare hand tenderly tracing the curve of your waist, he found himself consumed by thoughts of his deep affection for you. It wasn't merely your physical beauty that captivated him, but also the profound wisdom that emanated from your mind, weaving an irresistible charm that bound him to you completely.

Itto

Arataki found himself in an unexpected predicament one sunny afternoon. Amidst the chaos of his usual training routine, he stumbled upon a delicate sakura tree in full bloom. Entranced by its beauty, he couldn't help but admire it, his rough hands reaching out to caress the soft petals.

"Hey, Itto! What are you doing over there?" you called out, a spirited warrior with a heart of gold.

Itto turned, a bashful grin spreading across his rugged features. "Ah, just admiring this sakura tree. Reminds me of you, y'know? Beautiful and strong."

Your eyes sparkled with amusement as you approached, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. "You big softie," you teased, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Come on, let's enjoy the blossoms together."

And so, amidst the fluttering petals and gentle breeze, Itto and you spent the afternoon basking in each other's company, your laughter echoing through the tranquil grove.

Neuvilette

The Iudex, the suave and sophisticated man, found himself in a rather peculiar situation one evening as he strolled through the lush gardens of his estate. As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with you, his girlfriend, a radiant beauty with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," Neuvilette said with a charming smile. "I've been looking for you."

You giggled, a playful glint in your gaze. "I was hoping to steal a moment alone with you, away from the prying eyes of society."

Neuvilette's heart skipped a beat as he took your delicate hand in his own. "My dear, you need only ask, and I would gladly whisk you away to the ends of the earth."

With a soft laugh, you leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear. "Then how about we start with a romantic stroll under the moonlit sky?"

And so, hand in hand, Neuvilette and you wandered through the gardens, your laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves as you savored the magic of the night.

[theundercoversquid]

Of Loving Gazes and Work to do

Pairing: Simon Basset x Reader

Request: Hi I was wondering if you could write a simon basset story any plot would do I just love you're writing it's incredible I hope you have a nice day

Warnings: 

Masterlist

As the new Duchess of Hastings, you had many new jobs and expectations. Hence what led to you sitting at your desk. Your quill frantically flying across the paper as you tried to get a letter finished.

However, a certain someone was distracting you. You could feel his gaze from across the room.

You kept drifting from the letter, instead moving to focus on the handsome male across the room from you. His eyes were boring into you as he watched every stroke you made.

Eventually, though, you had enough.

"While you stop staring at me to distract me!" you admonished. Finally, turning to look at him properly.

"Oh, I'm not staring at you to distract you." Simon corrected you. A roguish look on his face.

"Then why ever would you be looking at me with such intensity?" You questioned.

"Maybe I like watching my wife," Simon suggested, his voice a drawl as a smirk covered his face.

"Well, I want you to stop." You ordered him in your best Duchess voice.

"Do you really know?" Simon questioned as he got up, coming towards you.

"Yes." You lied, but the hesitancy in your voice gave away your true feelings as your beloved husband reached a hand out to cup your cheek.

"I am going to ask you once again," Simon told you, his smirk only getting wider. "Do you really want me to stop?"

"No," you mumbled out.

"Louder," Simon instructed.

"No," you repeated again, louder this time. "I like having your attention; it makes me feel loved."

At that Simon smirk droped and a grinning smile took its place.

"Well, if that is the case, then I must always be looking at you. For I love you more than life itself."

At that you felt all the blood rush to your checks as you treid to look down. Embares by the sheer amount of affection that your husband was showing you. But with his gentle grip on your chin, Simon refused to let you look down. Instead, maintaining a steady eye contact with you. Just as you relly where wanting to pull away. Simon funlay droped a kiss down on yoru lips.

His other hand came up to the back of your neck as he pulled you into the kiss.

All thoughts of work dropped from your mind as your world narrowed to your husband and his lips and his hands.

[aetherdoesthings]

a proposition... (MINORS DNI!!!)

forethoughts: as a thank you for 200, here's a little thing i wrote to my beloved arlecchino :> also due to circumstances in life right now, i'm gonna be offline for a while, but i promise y'all i will return 😤

notes: fem!reader, dom!arlecchino, sub!reader, reader calling arlecchino mistress

“Just a minute, beloved. Then you can have me for the rest of the night.” You let out a frustrated grunt at your girlfriend’s sentence, pouting your lips and glaring at her with your best puppy eyes. Arlecchino continued to work at her desk, filling out various paperwork without sparing you a look. Your girlfriend was cruel, even to you, her favorite person in the whole world. She knew how whiny you would get when you didn’t get what you wanted, and right now, you wanted nothing but for her to turn your legs into jelly and leave you breathless as the sun woke up. While she still wore her Harbinger outfit, you had already stripped down to your silk robe that was Pandora’s box to the Harbinger.

Arlecchino didn’t even need to look at you to see those puppy eyes and pout you always gave her, letting out a little chuckle, a thin smile breaking her stoic expression. “You should know by now, beloved, that face, while turning you into the most adorable doll in the world, does not work on me. I promise I will be done in a minute.”

You genuinely frowned at her statement. You hopped off her desk, moving her hands as you straddled her lap, her legs in between yours. You wrapped your hands around her neck, looking at Arlecchino in her eyes. Arlecchino returned your look, raising an eyebrow and letting out a scoff before continuing to work over your shoulders. She was already used to your attempts to pull her away from her desk and into your shared bed; this was no different from your hundreds of other attempts.

Ideas of how to charm your girlfriend flooded your head, but unfortunately you had already tried them all. Some of them flooded your stomach with warmth, that cord in your lower regions starting to curl up as you gave in to your carnal thoughts, a smile on your face.

“My, my, my love.” Arlecchino’s words pulled you back to reality. You could no longer hear her quill scribble onto paper, but just the sound of you humping the Harbinger’s leg absentmindedly. You immediately stopped your actions when you heard the sound, your cheeks flushed red when you saw the damage done to the Harbinger’s thigh. Arlecchino let out a low chuckle as a response, her fingers brushing your hair back and behind your ear. Her other hand held onto your chin, forcing you to look at her in the eyes. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Never learnt how to control those carnal desires of yours, hmn?”

You blushed at your girlfriend’s words, feigning an innocent smile as you bore into those crimson crosses with round eyes. “Arle makes me really really happy.” “Do I now?” Arlecchino mused, her claw-like fingers running across your jaw as she cupped your face. “I thought I taught you how to control those desires of yours, my little slut. But you just can’t control it, can’t you? Of course, I did not expect much from someone so needy for my touch to listen to my words.” 

Arlecchino feigned disappointment, scoffing at you and shaking her head, but you knew she wasn’t really disappointed or disgusted by you by that sinister glimmer in her eyes that promised you the keys to unlocking all those fantasies in your head. Arlecchino stood up, placing you in her chair as she walked away, grabbing something from that cabinet that had a lock in it. She procured your favorite strap on, with the clear eight inch phallic object in her hand. Arlecchino swiftly secured it onto her body, spreading a generous amount of lube on the dildo before making her way back to you. She lifted your body up with strength no human would have, positioning your body right above the dildo, your face facing hers. Arlecchino gave you a nod of approval as you let out a breathy ‘thank you’, sinking yourself onto the phallic object as it entered your cunt, filling your un-stretched walls with an unspeakable euphoric feeling with that one movement. You didn’t even notice your robe was undone when you felt Arlecchino’s fingers grab your waist, curling in ever so gently into your flesh as you let out a whine. Her hands stopped you from enacting on your wants, keeping you frustrated and terribly horny.

“I have a proposition for you, dear.” Arlecchino hummed, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Your ears pricked up at her words. 

“I have a very important phone call I must make in a few seconds. While I am on that call, you are to continue fucking yourself on my cock. No cumming either.” “Arle! That’s not fair! I’m gonna cum!” You protested, only to be met with a slap on your face, her hand pulling your chin back to face her. She bunched up your hair and swooped it over to one side, leaning closer to your neck as she bit onto your skin, sucking onto the blood that poured out like a vampire. You squealed at her sudden bite, but your screams were blocked by the hand that snaked around your mouth.

“Then you better hold it in, darling, otherwise the punishment will not be ideal for you at all. So are you going to behave for me, darling?” Arlecchino released her other hand from your waist, as you started to rock yourself against the dildo, letting yourself succumb to the pleasure you craved for. 

“Y-Yes..” You stammered, holding back a moan as Arlecchino began to rock her hips as well, matching your rhythm, making the intensity even higher and harder to resist.

“Yes what?”

“Yes M-Mistress…”

Arlecchino grinned. “Good girl.” 

She picked up the phone, dialing a number you didn’t recognize. A satisfactory and devilish grin crept onto her face when her intended recipient picked up.

“Good evening, Tartaglia. Do you have twenty or so minutes to discuss various things?”

Oh, fuck.

Of course she chose the chatterbox.

Ten minutes in and you were already quivering, your body numb and overridden with euphoria that you had to let go, but couldn’t. Arlecchino didn’t make this any easier for you either. Everytime you slow down just a fraction of your rocking against her cock, she’d press her fingers into your waist, prompting you to speed up before you’d start to bleed out. If you let out a squeal or a moan, she’d grab onto your waist and use her own strength to thrust you down and make you stay still until she’d give you the go-ahead to continue fucking yourself. It became a cycle of trying not to cum and moan at the same time, until you were so frustrated tears began to fall from your face. 

Arlecchino noticed the teardrops falling onto her shoulder, and through your teary and pleasure filled eyes you swore you saw worry flicker in those crosses.

“I have no more questions, Tartaglia. Farewell.” Arlecchino dropped the telephone, hanging up on the other Harbinger as she cupped your cheek, using her thumb to wipe your tears away.

“Shhh…. Shhh., we’re done, now, babygirl.” Arlecchino cooed, kissing the area she bit. “You did so well for me. I’m so proud of you.”

The words alone could’ve made you come undone right then and there. But good girls always ask for permission first.

“M-Mistress… w-wanna…” You sobbed, your rocking starting to get weaker and weaker, the rope inside of you just a few strands away from breaking and unleashing all the frustration inside of you.

“Shhh… go ahead, babygirl. Come for me.” Arlecchino grabbed your waist, lifting your fragile body up as she thrusted into your pussy, howls and cries erupting from your mouth. Your cunt was already hollowed out by the time Arlecchino had finished her call, but once she began thrusting upwards and pushing you down, turned you into liquid putty for Arlecchino to mold everytime your skin hit her pants.  The rope in your core finally snapped when Arlecchino placed a single finger on that hardened, ignored and needy clit of yours. You threw your head back, arching your back until it formed a semi circle as the floodgates burst open. Arlecchino wrapped her hand around your mouth to silence your scream as your body spasms over hers, coming undone, flooding and ruining her pants, but she could care less. Arlecchino fucks you through your high, the aftershock, and until you came down from your high. She pulled the dildo out from your sensitive cunt, whispering praise into your ear as she wrapped her arms around you, coddling you like a baby.

“You did so good for me, babygirl. I’m so, so, so very proud of you.” Arlecchino whispered, planting tiny kisses all over your skin. She let out a chuckle as she surveyed the damage done. “It appears I will need to buy new pants.”

You look down at the mess you made, as your cheeks flushed red. “I’m sorry…”

“Nonsense.” Arlecchino tapped your nose with her index finger, smiling at you. It was a smile that held no ulterior motives, a smile that only reminded you of the warmth of a fire and reassured you that everything was going to be okay. “Come. Let’s get you and me all cleaned up and ready for bed, hmn? The Iudex is a patient man; he can wait until next morning for his paperwork to be filled out.”