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youcantkillamutant · 1 year

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Deeper Into The Drink: Chapter IV

Author: youcantkillamutant

Fandom: ACOTAR (SJM)

Pairing: Tarquin x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ve always known that Cresseida would do whatever it takes to protect the Summer Court. You just didn’t realize that you were a part of that equation. So you vow to do all you can to help Cresseida and protect your court, which is proving to be difficult, what with the scheming lords of Summer, human refugees from the war, sly overtures of kindness from the Night Court and the growing desolation of the neighboring Spring Court. And yet, you think you might have been able to handle all of that, if the High Lord Tarquin wasn’t so…himself. It would have been easier still if your heart didn’t take notice of that fact.

Warnings: Depictions of violence, angst, mentions of death, slow burn (as is my custom), no smut (probably), lots of IC slander

Rating: 18+

Words:7K+

A/N: Um… Yeah idk how to explain this one honestly? I’m in my “let’s get some critical thinking going about the IC and their shitty actions” era and just can’t deal with how dirty they did Tarquin. So…yeah. I just want Tarquin to have more people on his side honestly. This story is set post-ACOSF in terms of timeline. This is my first time writing in this fandom, so be nice. Don’t like it don’t read it and all that jazz. Not Beta’d we die like men. I own nothing, all characters belong to SJM.

Males are never as close to godhood as they claim to be.

🐚☀️🐚

Your ribs have been sore for days now. It was a dull ache that you could have lived with with minimal disruption, if not for the fact that you couldn’t figure out why you were in pain. You’d tried everything, stretching, warm towels, cold towels and even a tonic from the palace healer. Nothing worked. You weren’t sure how long was too long to tolerate the pain without a reasonable explanation, but you didn’t have time to worry about it. Not now. Not when Tarquin was on his way to winnow you to the human’s estate. Not when you were still fuming with the way he treated you after the sirens.

Ever since that day, you’d had Bilal go to the docks and get news first thing in the morning. The first few days Bilal came back empty handed, but soon enough, she was reporting about shipwrecks. And all you had to do was take a walk down to the docks to hear about it. The sailors that had made it back alive spoke of waves bigger than they’d ever seen, lightning storms, rough waters, and beasts. Monsters like they’d never imagined lurking beneath their mast heads. You knew Istoria hadn’t been lying, but to hear the reports first hand, to hear the wrath of Ogea…It made you even more frustrated with Tarquin.

You hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the High Lord in a little over a week, so when you pulled open the door to face him your breath caught. How could you have forgotten how the morning light kissed his cheekbones, how the sea itself seemed to live in his eyes. How the — Huffing a breath to stop your thoughts, you ushered him into your room.

“I’ll just be a moment.” Dabbing a bit more lotion on your hands before grabbing your necklace, you felt Tarquin’s eyes on you. He still hadn’t said a word, but his eyes tracked your every move. When you winced while reaching up to slide your necklace over your head, he noticed. Of course he noticed that.

“Are you hurt?” He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t spent nearly 20 minutes yelling at you for going against a siren when he so clearly thought you were fragile.

“I’m fine.” You waved his question off. “We should go. Don’t want to keep the humans waiting.” Making your way towards the door, you brushed past Tarquin’s chest. Or you would have, if he hadn’t grabbed your arm. The pull of your arm pulled on your ribs, forcing you to gasp in pain.

“What is wrong with you?” Tarquin could see that you were going to brush off his question and continued. “We can send for a healer—” You didn’t bother telling him that you’d already done that.

“I’m fine my Lord.” You tried to ignore the way his grip on your arm warmed your skin. It was firm but not painful, and you could have yanked your arm away from him. You tried to get your mind to cooperate with your body to do just that, but something stopped you. The pain in your ribs lessened for a moment.

“Tarquin. My name is Tarquin.” You sniffed, ignoring his correction and took another step towards the door. “Please,” He spoke your name softly, like a prayer. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I can take care of myself, High Lord.”

“I’m well aware of that. But you are a member of my court, I want to ensure you’re safe, cared for.” The words soured in your stomach, and you knew why, but chose to ignore the feeling entirely. What did you really expect? Tarquin was nothing if not loyal to his people and you were a part of that. No matter how much your ribs seemed to ache for more.

“I’ll be fine Tarquin, but our Court won’t if we don’t meet the humans. Now.” You met his stare then, and a pinch of heat traveled along your arm where he held you when your eyes locked. Finally he sighed.

“I suppose you’re right about that my Lady.” Between one blink and the next, you were winnowing to his Adriata Estate.

☀️

“We appreciate your hospitality, High Lord Tarquin,” The title sounded stiff on Aida’s lips, though not entirely out of disrespect. “but we can’t truly stay here.” The men surrounding Aida nodded, as they had been doing to everything she said since you’d arrived at the Estate. “This is not our home, and our lands…” We all knew the state of the human lands after all that Hybern had done. “Are we meant to stay here forever?” You didn’t bother letting her know that humans would never see your side of forever, and instead waited for Tarquin to respond.

You hadn’t spoken another word to each other once your sandals hit the sun warmed tiles of his Adriata Estate. It was certainly stately, with lush green grounds meeting white sand that trailed towards the sea. It was a miniature version of the palace as far as you could see on your brief walk from the pearl encrusted entrance to the meeting room overlooking the ocean. Aida had been waiting with five other humans. Three men that seemed to be her sentries, and another two women, one withered enough to be on death’s door and another, young enough to be Aida’s sister, though they looked nothing alike.

Aida still appeared as staid and confident as the first time you saw her. Her dark hair was a touch longer and gleaming as the sun shone through the windows. She was still as pale as bone, but she and her people seemed to have filled out. You knew food was available to them, and had ensured that it would be with Cresseida, but you were happy to see they were actually eating it. The humans had come a long way from cowering at your presence, and you couldn’t help but be impressed by their resilience.

“First, I want to make it clear that you are welcome to stay here as long as you would like. As you know, our lands are going through changes. Ownership is shifting and new borders are being drawn daily.” You peeked at Tarquin from the side of your eye. You weren’t aware of the border changes, though you supposed it made sense. After the fae lost in the war, it wasn’t surprising that lands would be left untended. “If you and your people would like to remain in our Court and build a life here, I will do everything in my power to ensure that happens.”

The humans mumbled to each other in a tongue you hadn’t heard before. Clearly they were smart enough to know about your heightened hearing, and wanted a way to keep conversations private.

“And what will you do if we do not want to stay in your Court, Lord of Summer?” The older woman spoke, face creasing as the words scraped out of her throat and into the air. “We are not so foolish to ignore the fact that the borders being redrawn also include those of the human lands South of here. Our people belong there. What would you do to get us home?”

“I’ll winnow you all there now if that’s truly what you want, but with the wall down…” Tarquin’s words trailed off and you picked up for him, gently.

“There are all manner of fae traveling through the Spring Court to your lands. If we took you all there now, it would be nothing short of leading you to slaughter.” Aida narrowed her eyes at you, then Tarquin. The girl beside her squeezed her arm tightly for a few seconds in warning.

“Then who is in charge of the Spring Court? Who allows monsters to travel through the land and torment our people?” You glanced at Tarquin but stayed silent. “It seems to me that there ought to be a High Lord in that court who is willing to protect our kind.” You winced, thinking of the High Lord of Spring. Last you heard, he’d been in his beast form for so long that most assumed he was stuck in it. Cauldron. “We will leave your court when a High Lord willing to work with myself and my council to protect our people and our lands rules Spring.”

You tensed at Aida’s tone, laughably commanding for a human living in Prythian, but Tarquin merely nodded.

“As I said, you have the hospitality of the Summer Court for however long you’d like Lady Aida.” The humans were startled at the title, but Tarquin merely gave them a small smile. Your ribs ached at the sight. Aida’s gaze slid to you, a question in her eyes. There was a guarded desperation, a need to believe that Tarquin was being honest. You nodded reassuring her that he was.

“Thank you, High Lord Tarquin.” This time, the title was smooth and tinged with appreciation.

🐚

The sound of metal on metal clanged through the hallway. The grip on your gauzy skirt tightened as Bilal drifted closer to your legs and you were grateful for the sensation. It made it that much easier to ignore the dull throbbing in your ribs. You’d spent much of your time with Bilal, ensuring you adhered to your bargain of feeding her for a full week. When the tattoo had gone and the bargain was fulfilled, you continued to meet her at the floating café every morning to ensure she was alright.

The girl wouldn’t tell you a thing about where she was staying, and you couldn’t stop the protectiveness that filled your chest while you waited each morning, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron and Ogea that she was alive and safe. You’d made some inquiries with the locals about war orphans but no one seemed to know anything. Sure, they mentioned that there were groups of children unaccompanied on the beach daily, but that hardly meant anything since they were gone when the sun went down.

By the time you made it into the training ring, Bilal was practically hiding behind you. She was humming to herself, as you watched two trainees spar. Her grip remained strong even as her song made her flicker in and out of vision with a few flashes of light. The trainees paid you no mind, but the Spymaster, Jellasa stalked towards the two of you.

You’d known Jellasa since you were a child, having had a few lessons with her even before your father had begun training you in earnest. That’s why you rolled your eyes as the female closed the space between you. Jellasa was an incredible Spymaster, evidenced by the fact that no one outside of the Summer Court even knew she existed, and had existed for well over 700 years in the position. She was also terrifying to anyone who didn’t know her. Bilal’s singing lowered to a whisper as she peeked out from your skirt.

“Lassa, how nice to see you.” The Spymaster rolled her eyes at the nickname, but granted you a small smile. “I wanted to introduce you to someone,” You ushered Bilal out from behind you, and tried not to worry that she had gone utterly silent. “This is Bilal.” You crouched beside the girl, letting her lean into your side. “Bilal, this is Jellasa, the Spymaster of the Summer Court.”

For a moment, Bilal said nothing. You weren’t sure the child was even breathing, and hesitantly you placed your palm on her back to ensure that she was. A shout rang out from the training ring and Bilal took in the sight. A female trainee had knocked her male sparring partner to the ground and was keeping him in place with what looked to be a wickedly curved, golden blade. For a moment, it seemed as if the female was truly going to harm the male, but then she grinned, and the pair laughed, helping each other off the floor.

“Do you know how to do that?” Jellasa laughed, and it was a light, sweet tinkle. You’d never heard her laugh.

“I taught them how to do that.” Bilal gaped. “Would you like me to teach you?” The girl nodded excitedly, hopping from foot to foot.

“I’ll let you two get started.” You were rising to your feet as you said the words, mind already on getting back to work, but Bilal turned back to you.

“You’re leaving me here? Alone?” The girl’s words were higher than usual, and you saw her eyes widen a fraction. “I thought you were going to train me. I thought you were going to help me.” Your heart broke at the words, completely overpowering the ache in your ribs. Jellasa spoke before you could answer.

“That’s a great idea Bilal. I’m sure she could use the practice.” Jellasa dropped to your side and leaned toward Bilal. “She sure looks like she could use the practice.” You let out an indignant noise, and quick as a whip, Jellasa’s fist was flying towards your cheek.

“What in the Mother?!” You’d managed to swerve out of the way in time to avoid the unexpected punch. “Jellasa!” The female in question merely smirked.

“See? When she was training regularly, my fist would have never gotten so close. She also would have hit me with some sort of counter to defend herself.” You let out a huff, annoyed that she was right. It had been a while. You hadn’t really done much training since before the war. “Come on lazy bones or I’ll drop you both into the Cauldron!”

Bilal’s squeak of surprise made you smile. Standing up and stepping out of your shoes, you reached for Bilal’s hand and followed Jellasa. Apparently work would have to wait, if your old sessions with Jellasa were anything to go by, you’d have hours of conditioning and footwork to brush up on. Cauldron.

“Let’s move it Ladies!” Bilal giggled and pulled you along.

☀️

This is not what you’d expected when Cresseida had begged you to join her for tea this afternoon. Cauldron, she’d told you you might even need weapons. Imagine your surprise when you walked into the sunny tea room and found it full of Court ladies. You shot Cresseida a glare as you entered and tried to ignore the press of your blade on your ribs. You’d slipped on a green gauzy dress that billowed around you and whispered against the floor, but to bring your dagger you’d tied a corset around your waist. To say your ribs were protesting the garment would be an understatement. Still, you’d learned to breathe in corsets and armor long ago, so you breathed as deeply as the fabric would allow, and gave Cress a strained smile as you made it to her.

“Thank the Mother that you’re here. If I have to hear these ladies say one more word about their estates or idiotic relatives I’m going to drown myself.” You rolled your eyes at her dramatic statement.

“Why exactly am I here?”

“You’re my advisor. I need you to advise me on how not to kill these females.” Cresseida huffed. “I don’t even know why Tarquin put me in charge of Corealis’ Cup. I’m certainly not his Lady and I don’t care if any of these old bats repro—” Shock had you gripping Cresseida’s arm.

“This is Corealis’ Cup?” Normally the event was held in a month or so, when the days were cool but the sun shone long. After being reborn by Ogea, Corealis took a vow of chastity, vowing to never lay with a man or mortal, but to instead grant her female followers the offspring she might have had with a male lover. Each year, an acolyte from the temple of Corealis came to serve the ladies of court tea. Whomever received a golden ring in the bottom of their cup was chosen as Corealis’ favored female and was said to have increased fertility and a bunch of other blessings you couldn’t quite remember. You hadn’t bothered to keep up with the ceremony while Cress was under the mountain and during the war you were trying to stay alive, so no, a day-long fertility festival was not on your mind.

Cresseida slid her gaze to you, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. “I thought you knew…” Her face fell, and she gathered your hands in hers. “Please help me. I need backup.” Before you could ask why, a willowy female strode up to you. She had ice blue eyes, white hair, and tawny skin. No doubt she was a cousin twice or thrice removed from Cress’s family if the haughty way she held her head high said anything.

“Princess, so lovely to see you out of armor and in…proper clothes.” From the side of your eye, you thought you saw Cresseida’s eye twitch. You were surprised at her tone, pretty much everyone at the castle seemed to love Cresseida.

“Zinnia, how lovely to see you again.” Cress’ tone made it clear that it was anything but lovely, so you cleared your throat. “Oh yes, Zinnia, this is my advisor—” The female said your name before Cress could, and your eyes flicked to hers in surprise.

“Oh yes, we ladies know all about you. Your father has quite the reputation.” You didn’t like the way she said the word reputation, but before you could bite back, another woman tsked at her words.

“Zinnia, will you ever stop being such a brat? You’re nearly 260 years old.” Zinnia, surprisingly, looked chastened at the woman’s words, muttering an apology and making an escape. “Sorry about her, she still hasn’t quite learned that you catch more flies with honey.” The woman had umber skin, and her face, creased with age, spoke of centuries lived. Still, she held herself with pride, not a hint of a curve in her back or shoulders. Her brown eyes reminded you of your mother’s, her’s having been a glittering maple. Her hair too reminded you of Autumn, mostly brown but a curl or two gleamed red. “I’m Dahlia, but most fae call me grandmother considering I’m old enough to be the grandmother of nearly everyone in this room.”

With that, she looped your arm in hers and did the same for Cresseida. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t bite.” Tossing you a wink, Dahlia led you both further into the tea room and to a silver chaise lounge with waves for legs. As soon as the three of you sat, the ladies of court scurried to sit around you. You hadn’t realized it until now, but the chairs were arranged in a semicircle around the chaise. You almost snorted a laugh at Cresseida, considering you’d found her as far away from the silver seat as possible, clearly avoiding the attention it’d bring.

“Now ladies, I’m sure you already know who they are,” Dahlia waved a hand to you, then Cresseida. “So let’s be civil and introduce ourselves. Remember that this is a day of divinity and the gods are watching. Watch what you say or they’ll strike you down.” Dahlia spoke like she’s been holding court like this for years. She probably had. The bit about the gods piqued your interest. You hadn’t met a fae that spoke like they were close to the gods in well…ever. It’s not like the Prythian Pantheon was all that large. You could only really remember Corealis and Ogea, and even then, only barely.

After the introductions, the structured silence gave way to a smatter of conversations around the room. You turned to the woman on your right, Okenna if you remembered correctly and started a bit of small talk. You were curious about these females. Clearly they lived at Court, you’d even recognized a few from the people you’d passed in the palace hallways, but you were intrigued to find just how they fit into the Court itself.

Okenna was the head chef, was barely able to keep herself from adjusting the trays that held tiny sandwiches and cookies in the center of the room. She’d been at the castle for 70 years, and promised to make a soup your mother used to make when she was homesick. Spicy, warming and autumnal, your mouth watered as she recounted the recipe to ensure you were talking about the same thing. You were, and your heart lifted a bit at her promise to make it for you this week.

Ariyah was the wife of Adriata’s most famous architect, and a talented blacksmith in her own right. She didn’t say much, but she did invite you down to her forge to watch her work. You’d always been fascinated to see the birth of blades through fire. Pelia, though quiet, you liked the most. She worked in the library, and you could tell that once you two got talking about books, you’d be fast friends. Cassandra was the sister and advisor of one of the Summer Lords. You learned the most from her considering she was happy to talk politics.

“The Lords are concerned that Tarquin isn’t doing what’s best for Summer. You have to admit, the male has a bleeding heart and though we know he’s learned from that fiasco with the Night Court’s High Lady…”

“They want to understand his priorities.” Cassandra nodded, affirming your words.

“Tarquin speaks of programs to acclimate the humans to Prythian, but he hasn’t brought forth one plan to help our veterans, honor our dead, or care for the war orphans. From where the Lords are sitting, Tarquin hasn’t proposed anything for our people.” You wanted the protest the words, but continued to listen instead. “It is not that the lords don’t trust Tarquin, or even that they think him incapable of ruling, they just haven’t had any evidence to prove that he is concerned for the fae of Summer.”

Like the breaking of a dam, Cassandra’s words were all the other ladies of court needed to speak freely on their thoughts of Tarquin and the fate of Summer.

“Will he be raising taxes?”

“What will he do about the new dangers of the sea?”

“Will the humans truly stay?”

“Is he planning on redistricting the lands of the fallen?”

“Will he plan a memorial?”

“Will he re-home the war orphans?”

You weren’t sure how long you’d spent assuaging fears, listening to ideas, and even working through a few ideas. You had drawn Cresseida into the conversation early on, and Dahlia offered valuable advice with her extensive knowledge of the Summer Court history. Cress promised to bring their concerns forward to Tarquin, and you had that thought that perhaps, Cress needed to form her own council. You whispered the idea to Cresseida when the conversation moved from politics to court politics but Dahlia caught it.

“You’ll be good for Summer. It’s be a while since I’ve seen a pair like you.” You gave her a small smile.

“I didn’t realize you could tell the future as well. Is that something I can look forward to when I get to your age?” Dahlia grinned and smacked your arm lightly. After spending half a day sat next to the female, you could tell that she appreciated a smartass.

“I don’t have to be a seer to know there’s bravery in your blood, child.”

A bell rang throughout the room, stopping any response you could form, and Dahlia sat back in the chaise as the doors opened. Three acolytes from the temple entered the room and you admired their robes. Glittering gold embroidery rested on silken satin. Each female was bald, skin patterned with golden symbols tattooed carefully on the skin. Onyx diadems set with pearls crowned their heads. They moved silently along the marble floor, the one in the center holding a tray with a large teapot made of what looked like solid gold. The steam drifted in front of her face, making her look more like an illusion than the others. The two on the sides split off on either side of the room, and began to disperse onyx teacups with pearl inlays, similar to the diadems they wore.

The acolyte with the teapot glided closer to the chaise you sat in, and you studied her even closer. The robes had a slit in the front, and as she moved, you could see that the robes were lined in golden silk. She wore black slippers with a golden sole, and moved like a forest creature, sure-footed and silent. Finally, she came to kneel in front of Cresseida, resting the tray on a table in front of the chaise and lifting the teapot in her hands.

“The acolytes chosen for this ceremony are the most devout in the temple. They’re said to be visited by Corealis regularly and therefore are the best equipped to grant her blessings here on earth.” Dahlia had leaned close to whisper the words and you nodded as you watched the acolyte serve the room. You listened to hear a ring rattling around the teapot or clinking into a teacup, but there was only the sound of tea filling cups and fidgeting.

The acolyte filled your cup last, then stepped to the center of the room.

“When Ogea gave the Goddess Corealis life once more, Corealis herself became a goddess of fertility. She was able to imbue life into anything she wished, and as such, males tried to lure her down from the sky, begging for more life. They stopped calling her Corealis, and named her Saol, or ‘Life’ in the old tongue.” You perked up and leaned in, never having heard this story before. “She ignored their pleas for eternities, until a male, claiming to be a god of death approached her.

‘Saol!’ He cried. ‘I am your match and your maker, for without Death, we would not need Life. Bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’

Corealis listened, for after an eternity in the sky, even the goddess could admit that she had become lonely. The voice of the male was nothing like the pleas of the males before, and she became curious.

‘I was created by the sea, and so I shall return when this world is done. Who is your maker?’ She was curious, but she was still a goddess. Still the man only repeated his words.

‘Bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’

‘If we are each other’s mirrors, come up to my sky yourself.’ The male fell to his knees, imploring.

‘We may be mirrors, but I would never presume to enter your territory without permission. Saol, I ask you again, bring me into your sky, and I will prove our likeness.’ The goddess agreed, and brought him into sky, now blood red after a full day of coercing the goddess to grant him access to her skies.

‘Will you not reveal yourself Saol?’

‘Will you not prove yourself my likeness, male?’

‘Perhaps you are not so powerful after all.’

‘Only males base their worth on power. Perhaps you are not as close to godhood as you claim to be.’

‘I only wish to see your face when I reveal our likeness. Will you not allow me to gaze upon your face, goddess?’ Deciding to humor the male, Corealis gave herself a form.

As soon as she came into shape, the man in her skies lunged. Baring the white bone of a beast, he swung, intending to slay the goddess of Life, and take her power for himself. But, though the male called for Saol, he did not remember that Saol was Corealis and Corealis was the goddess of more than life. Corealis was the goddess of light, bringer of sun, queen of flame. She blinded the male with her light and threw him from her sky. Down, down, down, he fell, until the waves of Ogea swallowed him whole.

Disgusted, Corealis vowed that she would never directly give life to a man, and that she would only bestow the gift of life on the most clear-headed and pure-hearted females.”

“Or so the legend goes.” Dahlia whispered with a rueful smile. The acolyte continued.

“Today, we celebrate the rebirth of Corealis and ask that she bless the most worthy of us all with the power of life.” The acolyte lifted her hands and stretched them wide.

Gracefully, she slid to her knees, and pressed her hands against her forehead, neck and chest. Then, she glanced up at us all. “You may drink.”

You raised the onyx cup to your lips and were surprised to feel the tea still steaming. As this was your first time attending Corealis’ Cup, you weren’t sure to expect, but the tea was pleasant. Honeysuckle, lemongrass and chamomile soaked your senses. Another sip, and you relished the heat filling your chest from the drink. It soothed the ache in your ribs. When you took your last sip and tilted the cup away from your lips, you heard the distinct sound of metal hitting stone.

Glancing down, you saw the glint of gold at the bottom of the cup. The metal ring looked thin and a little worn, but gleamed like it had just been polished. The acolyte approached you, graceful as ever.

“You have been granted the Blessing of Corealis. Will you accept it?” You weren’t sure that you really had a choice, especially if this was actually a blessing from a goddess. You nodded instead, not trusting your voice. “Then take the ring and accept the blessing.”

You reached in for the ring, and as it breached the lip of the teacup, you felt a rush of heat. You heard the females in the room gasp, but you were more interested in your skin. It glowed gold. You weren’t sure what to expect from the blessing of a goddess, but gleaming like the sun itself would not have been your first, or fifth guess. There was a smattering of applause and congratulations as you slipped the golden ring onto your necklace. It seemed to sing when it rested next to your father’s mating ring.

The acolyte pressed a thumb to your forehead and murmured a few words, a blessing, you hoped, then stepped away from you. Without another word, she and the other acolytes began collecting the teacups and their trays. Just as conversation began to pick up, the doors to the tea room burst open. Tarquin strode in, handsome as ever. Mother it’s like the sun finds him everywhere he goes. Your ribs twinged with that phantom pain again.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I need to speak with the Princess and her advisor.” Tarquin caught sight of you and tilted his head in confusion. “Is there a reason you’re glowing?” Cresseida answered before you could open your mouth.

“It’s because she’s fertile Tarquin. Like, super fertile.” You buried your face in your hands as Tarquin choked on a cough.

🐚

“Will you slow down?” You glanced back at Tarquin briefly, but didn’t slow. Cresseida hadn’t even pretended to stick around once the three of you left the tea room, and Tarquin didn’t seem to care. “Why are you running away from me?” That pulled you up short and your ribs throbbed as you tried to catch your breath. You weren’t running. You didn’t need to run from a male. Even if that male was your High Lord.

“I am not running. I have work to do.” Tarquin scoffed and folded his arms.

“Yes, you seemed awfully busy having tea with my cousin and glowing with fertility.” You made a noise of disgust and turned away from the male. If he was going to be a prick for no reason, you had no reason to be there.

“I need to speak with you.”

“Really? Because all you seem to be doing is berating me for doing my job. You should try it sometime.”

“Yes because you listen so well when I do my job—”

“What is that supposed to mean?” His tone was grating on your last nerve and the pain in your ribs was a simmering fire.

“It means that when we are underwater and a siren coaxes you even deeper into their lair, you should listen to me and stay out of it. It means you should let me do my job and let me protect you—”

“Oh yes, because I’m a member of your court.” You tried to ignore the way the words stung your throat.

“Yes. I don’t understand what is so wrong with that. I can’t—Cresseida can not lose you. I won’t allow it. She lost more than enough Under the Mountain.” You turned away from the male, exhaling heavily. Tarquin, apparently, wasn't finished. “So is that it? You’ll be angry with me forever because I want you safe?”

“I’m angry with you because you don’t trust that I can take care of myself. I am angry because you don’t trust that what the sirens say about Ogea is true. I am angry with you because you don’t believe in me and I believe in you, Tarquin. I believe in what you can do for this court, for what you can do for Prythian and I have believed in you from the start. I suppose it was foolish of me to expect the same from a High Lord but I—” You clenched your jaw to quell the tears of anger building in your eyes. You heaved a breath so heavy the pain in your ribs hitched.

“You haven’t read the legends about Ogea. If you did you’d understand. She is more than the Cauldron. She’s older than the Mother. She is the first creator of our world. She is our world. Before Ogea, there was nothing. No magic, no fae, no humans, no animals, no nothing. Ogea pushed land out of the sea. She birthed the sun. Sirens were her first creation. She is a goddess of immense power and unlike the Cauldron and the Dread Trove, her magic has never been asleep. She has always gazed upon our world, her world. Tarquin, I am not willing to risk our court being washed away by the sea because you think the history of this world is a fairytale.

“I’m not asking you to believe in Ogea. I am asking you to believe in me. I’m asking to you trust that I’ve done my research. Trust that I’ve seen enough to know that the goddess of this world is real and more powerful than anything we can ever imagine. I know you’ve heard the reports for the docks. I am asking you to trust that I will do everything in my power to protect our court. Please Tarquin. Help me keep us safe.” You weren’t sure what you’d do if he said no. You had no idea if you would go behind hi—

“Tell me what you need me to do.” Just like that, the pain in your ribs stopped. You were so surprised you gasped at the relief. Tarquin reached for you, alarmed.

“I’m fine, I—” Tarquin guided you to a bench, and it was only then that you’d realized you’d been yelling at the High Lord in the palace hallway. The very empty, but echo-y palace hallway. Cauldron boil you. It took a minute longer than you expected, but you caught your breath, and breathed deeply without pain for the first time in days. “Thank you for believing me Tarquin.”

“I trust you. What do you have in mind?” Tarquin’s gaze was earnest and you relaxed even further.

“What do you know of Ogea’s children?”

☀️

It turns out Cressida took your idea of having her own council seriously because the next day, she’d invited you, Ariyah, Pelia, Cassandra and Illiana, the wife of the one Summer lord you remembered from your home in the country. Your conversation glanced over small problems within the court and various solutions for each of them. The biggest concern of theirs were the Spring court citizens and the humans. Which is why you sat with Cresseida, Tarquin and two of his trusted advisors discussing the matter in his office. You couldn’t help but notice that Varian was absent, but there wasn’t an empty chair, so perhaps the Summer General wasn’t invited.

Tarquin’s office was comfortable, mostly sea bleached wood and pearlescent accents. A break from the marble of the rest of the palace. The walls were rough, like they’d been hewn from some underwater cave then left out in the sun to dry. His desk rested in the center of the room near the back, facing the floor length windows in the room overlooking the sea. It was piled high with paper and ink pots, but a stack of letters caught your attention. They were dark blue, nearly black and glittered with the silver seal of the Night Court. They were also unopened. Every single one of them.

Though his desk was a mess, it wasn’t the centerpiece of the room. No, that was left to the plush pale blue seats, arranged around a table that could only be described as a slab of rock. It looked like something that had been pulled from the cliffs by the sea, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Tarquin’s advisors were a mated pair, white hair contrasting against their weathered brown skin. He seemed relaxed around the duo, and they returned the sentiment. The male didn’t speak at all, though his partner introduced him as Kioku. He sent her a small smile before returning to the papers in front of him, pen poised just above the pulp. The female, Cia, did the talking for both of them, and you couldn’t help but admire her. She’d clearly been working within the Summer Court for centuries, and made her suggestions with a tone of such clarity that you found yourself nodding along with whatever she said. She took her time to speak when presented with a problem, as though she was sorting through every solution and possible outcome. Kioku sat by her side, dutifully taking notes on the conversation.

“Now comes the matter of how to handle Spring and the humans.” Tarquin rubbed his hand along his chin as he spoke. “I’ve told them that they can stay as long as they like, but…with everything happening” Tarquin glanced over at you and a flash of crashing ocean waves and lurking monstrous eyes gave you a shiver. “It may not be safe for them.” Cia nodded.

“Perhaps it is time for you to begin your Seasonal Court Alliance.” Cresseida’s head snapped up from the papers she was reading. “You can start with Spring High Lord. Your cousin,” She nodded towards Cresseida. “is on friendly terms with Vivianne and Kallias I believe. And your mother was Autumn was she not?” Cia turned her blue eyes to you as you nodded. “You spent a few Autumns at Forest House, so I imagine it won’t be too difficult for you to gain Eris’ ear.” You wondered how this female knew about that, but she continued, turning towards Tarquin. All the while, her mate’s pen scratched a symphony against his note pages. “Spring will likely be the most difficult, you’ll need to convince the high lord to care for the humans as well.” Cresseida snorted.

“You think we’ll be able to get a half feral Tamlin to accept and protect humans on his lands?” Cai remained silent, glancing between you and Tarquin. You could see gears turning in her mind, could see her turning over every possible scenario and its outcome as a thin brow lifted. Then she turned to you.

“You and Tarquin ought to get started or we’ll have more to worry about than the sea and its monsters rising to meet us.”

🐚

The Spring Court was beautiful, even overgrown and untended, there was a softness in the way the sun shone on the verdant grass, an earthly magic to the way pollen drifted through the air and tickled your nose. Tarquin had winnowed the two of you in after much protesting from Cresseida. She hadn’t wanted either of you to go, adamant that Tamlin was a lost cause, but you knew Cai was right. If you could get Tamlin on board with fixing his court, accepting the humans on his lands and the Seasonal Alliance…

The manor came into view the closer you two got, and your hopes fell. Brambles strangled the gates, hedges remained overgrown, and you could see the earth reclaiming the manor, one creeping vine at a time. There was no sign of the High Lord as you climbed the steps, and when you reached the door, open and gaping like the maw of a wild beast, Tarquin stepped forward, effectively pushing you behind him. You rolled your eyes at the protective act. He’d been doing this since you’d made up, small protective gestures that tugged on your chest. Indulging the male, you waited a beat as he entered, then followed.

Tarquin called for Tamlin as you spun to survey the foyer. There was the memory of splendor in the wallpapers, of grand balls and raucous laughter as a gentle breeze swept leaves across the floor. You tried to imagine the manor as it had been before the War, before Hybern and his soldiers felled the wall, but before you could imagine gilding glinting on the wallpapers a growl sounded from your right. Tarquin was by your side in an instant, nudging you away from the sound. You couldn’t look away from the darkened hallway where the growling had not stopped.

Slowly, a beast on all fours approached. Snarling, with matted golden fur, the High Lord of Spring prowled towards the pair of you. He did not deign to speak, his curled lip and furious green eyes saying more than enough. Still, Tarquin stood his ground.

“Tamlin, It’s good to see you.” The beast huffed something that could have been a derisive laugh had he not been a beast. He cocked his head at Tarquin, then scenting the air, he turned to you, as though he hadn’t realized you were even there. “This is my—” Tarquin seemed at a loss for words as Tamlin ignored him and prowled closer to you, teeth bared. Quickly, you introduced yourself, hoping that would stop his advance. It didn’t.

“You reek of Autumn, has that traitor sent you to spy on me?” The words, garbled as they were, pulled you up short. You’d never known anyone could smell the Autumn on your skin, passed down and diluted as it was from your mother. Then again, you hadn’t spent a ton of time around High Lords and all of their ‘special powers’.

“I’m not from Autumn,” You said slowly. “I haven’t seen Lucien in decades.” Tamlin’s snarl got nastier at Lucien’s name, and you winced. You’d known the Vanserra’s well enough to call them cousins as a child, but you’d spent the most time with Lucien as you were closer in age. For nearly a decade, you and Lucien spent your autumns at the Forest House following Eris around. “We came to talk about an alliance.” Tamlin stopped his approach and Tarquin took the chance to rejoin the conversation.

“We’d like to discuss it with you Tamlin, preferably while you’re on two feet.” The beast did not seem moved, but Tarquin continued. “We want to help you Tamlin. We want to help Spring.” Green eyes bored into Tarquin’s blue ones for minutes. Then, in a blink, the High Lord transformed. Matted fur turned to golden hair, snarling lips to a thin mouth, and clawed paws into hands and muddy boots. He did not embrace Tarquin, merely nodding at him to continue.

“Your people want to come home. We want to help you rebuild.” A sneer slipped onto Tamlin’s face.

“And what, exactly is your price Tarquin? Perhaps you want to renegotiate borders? Or maybe—” Tarquin stopped Tamlin’s condescending words.

“You take in the humans in my court. They miss their home too.”

“You think I’ll let another human onto these lands?” Tamlin growled. Tarquin cringed in sympathy, but you couldn’t help rolling your eyes in annoyance. You’d heard stories about Tamlin from the first war. He’d been his father’s man then, a leader of the most vicious war band in Prythian. He’d also been the loudest advocate of humans this side of the wall, and a begrudging but fair High Lord when his time came, or so your father had told you. You’d heard that he ripped Amarantha’s throat out with his claws. You couldn’t reconcile that male with the one who stood before you snarling and sniping and cradling a wounded heart he wouldn’t let scab over, let alone heal.

“I’m not convinced you’ve got your shit together enough to stop anything from stepping onto Spring Court soil.” You gestured to the dilapidated manor surrounding you. “How long have you been wandering around on four legs? Have you done any work while your people dreamed of home in our court, High Lord?” Tarquin inched closer to you, brushing his hand against your arm. Not stopping you, but warning you to tread lightly. “You sent your sentries out to die for you and your court, the least you can do to honor them is care for it. Act like their sacrifices meant something.” Tamlin flinched, but he bit back, like a rabid animal.

“Who in the Cauldron are you to speak of what my friends wanted?” He stepped further into your space, and you had to tilt your chin to maintain eye contact. Tarquin curled his fingers around your arm. “Humans are not our problem.” Tamlin grumbled his answer so low you knew he didn’t believe it. Still, you couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh.

“Your court borders the human lands. Do you truly believe that they won’t encroach on your territory sooner or later?” You shook your head at his idiocy. Tarquin interrupted smoothly.

“What she means to say is that it may be better to be ahead of any land changes or disputes. Better yet, to be ahead of it all. The world is different now, you can fold the humans into your culture—”

“Why do you care?” There was a note of pain in Tamlin’s voice, but his face betrayed nothing.

“Because we want an alliance, Tamlin. After everything, the Seasonal Courts can arrange that much.” Tamlin just stared at Tarquin. “After everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done for your court, don’t you want to do everything you can to ensure it’s vitality? We can help you rebuild.” Tamlin shook his head and stepped back.

“Your female said it best, there’s nothing I can do to fix this court.” It was your turn to snarl. Males.

“Like it or not, you are High Lord of the Spring Court. Your people want to come home, and the only person stopping them from that is you.” You stepped into Tamlin’s space, pointing a finger at his chest. “If you want to wallow, do it in the privacy of chambers, in the meantime, take the help we’re giving you and join the alliance.” Tamlin snarled at your words leaning so close you thought he might actually bite your face off. Then he was back in his beast form, loping out of the front door and into the woods. Your shoulders dropped.

“Cauldron. I really screwed that up, didn’t I?” Tarquin laughed. Laughed.

“Honestly? I think he likes you.” You gaped at his admission. “What? He let you talk without ripping your throat out. Right now, I’d say that’s pretty high praise from the male.”

________________________________________________

A/N: I obvi couldn’t let this chapter end without You and Tarquin making up. As angsty as this story started, I’m not actually one for angst, so I wanted to clean that shit right on up. It was still fun to have y’all yelling in the hallway.

I am having waaaaaay too much fun writing these random ass gods and their backstories so I hope you’re enjoying it! I promise that they are very relevant to the story lol. And don’t worry this is not a surprise pregnancy storyline (that’s not my jam) even though You have Corealis’ blessing 😉

I wasn’t sure about bringing in other characters like Eris and Tamlin and that lot, but I’ve been tandem reading the series with a friend and man…they are all so insane. I can’t leave them out lol. Especially not Tamlin. What a messy little man.

This basically marks the end of the first part of the story. I’ve planned for three parts, and in the next few chapters, we’re gonna get the IC (finally) some more lore about Koschei and a festival that will legit be fun for all! At least, that’s the plan…

#my writing #mine #Deeper Into The Drink #Tarquin #TarquinxBlack!FemReader #Cresseida #Summer Court #Spring Court #Tamlin #acotar #acomaf #acowar

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tofindloveinpoison · 3 years

Text

Iconic Fanfictions ive read two years ago and what I currently remember of them:

I will premise this by saying that these fanfics were famous only in certain specific niches of the internet, and that when i say that a work is badly written or i critique it in anyway it?s just my opinion from what i vaguely remember, whihch might not be correct.

Fanfics below the cut: filthy lucre, asotm, twist and shout, the hat and lung fics, anatomy of a fall, throam, unholyverse. feelfree to add what you remember of “famous fanfics” you’ve read.

tw for mentions of: sexual assault, violence, animal abuse, pedophilia and some other upsetting topics.

The Milk Fic

Oh my God this was bad but not nearly as extreme as other fics. An iconic and shocking read i do not recommend, but if you really want to read it it will not ruin your life, your month at most.

From what i remember at least the sex was consensual aaaaaaand i don’t remember any other good/decent aspects about it.

Very famous, a lot of ppl have read it, gerard way said it was “well-written” but honestly it wasn’t.

( original? ryden version) 4/10 because of lack of actual crimes.

Filthy Lucre

So bad i don’t remember the plot. They’re prostitutes i think? there definitely was an abusive relationship and the sex scenes were so bad i had to skip all of them, meaning i read the whole thing in half an hour.

Really terrible, they don’t end up toghether and that’s the only interesting element. I recomend no one reads this unless you are literally dying of boredom.

(frerard version) 1/10 because its a completed work, but at what cost

Twist and Shout

This is considered one of the good ones and you know what? for iconic fanfiction standards it’s not bad at all, decently-written with actual characters that don’t feel, like most fanfic characters, like bad ooc versions of the original.

How about the overcomplicated plot tho? I don’t remember a thing except for the homophobia (its set in the 50s-60s), the war, the Elvis songs, one cute sad beach scene and one of the protagonists dying of aids. Maybe they also watch star trek,idk; lots to unpack.

If you want to suffer and you have lots of free time i recommend it, i skipped most of the sex scenes but there is an actual plot so that was not a problem.

(original Destiel version) 8/10 bc I don’t remember how they handled the aids thing but it made me uncomfortable, might be just bc of the upsetting subject matter but i don’t remember

The Hat Fic

DO NOT READ THIS THING. Go read the milk fic if you want weird but not this one please. A milk enema is NOTHING. Contains animal abuse and i don’t remember how consensual the whole thing was.

I CAN ASSURE YOU THIS MAKES ME WANT TO PUKE TO THIS DAY I FEEL SICK WRITING THIS. There is a whole subset of early phanfiction centered on being as disgusting and upsetting as possible and i think this started it.

I higly doubt anyone got off on this but still the possibility unsettles me.

(original phan version ) -8233983743764346/10 should be illigal to talk about it. We should all agree to Damnatio Memoriae this thing.

A splitting of the Mind

Some people insist on treating this as one of the good iconic fics but it’s bad.

So bad its actually an interesting read if you feel like analizing some text, trying to see what is so appealing about it, despite its evident flaws.

The age gap is 19-16 so not as bad as the Other Iconic mcr Fanfic About Doves that i did not read bc from what i remember it was basically pedophilia/grooming but i might be wrong. God the bar is so low

Portrayal of mantal illness and trauma was truly a shitshow, the writing was not great but also not horrible. The sexual assault elements upset me greatly but it might be just bc of the subject matter

pros: unreliable narrator done decently, ray toro’s character saw the future looking in cereal, characters are characters and not merely names (not to be confused with actual good characterization), nothing else.

(original frerard version) 5/10 for the effort honestly, but i do not recommend this unless you are mentally ready for some heavy topics handled poorly.

The Lung Fic

This was written with the goal of shocking the reader, in the same vein as all hat fic/ milk fic copycats.

Should be more upsetting, given it contains gore, pedophilia and a bunch of other disgusting madness (maybe mpreg?), but it just reads as a fanfiction taboo list.

Not worth reading at all, clearly intentionally designed to shock and disgust to the point where it’s obvious.

0/10 i don’te remember which version, irrelevant, don’t waste your time

Anatomy of a fall

Contains ghosts, high school au, possibly resurrection or death, idk.

I don’t remember this being particularly offensive in any way, but its been a long time. Then again i did not read the sex scenes so it might contain necrophilia and i wouldn’t know. (i checked and no necrophilia, just “weird supernatural sex”)

is it well written? no, but it’s not outragiously badly-written. Is it funny sometimes? yes.

In the context of this list, this might be a good one, in any other context probably not. I might be biased bc i love ghost stories in general and this one does not contain sexual assault if i remember correcly. (The bar is soooo low)

(original? frerard version) 7/10 bc ghosts and funny aND IT HAS ILLUSTRATIONS (vietnamese translation available)

The Heart Rate of a Mouse

Good but not in the classical meaning of the word. It contains some Hot TakesTM on human sexuality, substance abuse and unhealthy relationship(s).

Its set in the 70s so the homophobia is there and she is thriving. Wonderful internalized homophobia, really 10/10 for that.

The sex and the plot sometimes intersect, putting me in the uncomfortable position of having to read smut or not knowiong what is going on (0/10 ).

Well written for the genre (=beloved fanfictions that are rarely redeemable); characters are original and flawed, even interesting sometimes.

The plot is three pubblished books worth of plot available for free on the internet and that is a blessing. I suggest reading this as if all the characters are OCs and you found this book forgotten on the train and decided to read it.

But is it actually good as a story? idk its a lot honestly, if you have to quarantine for 14 days bc of covid and you don’t have anything to study, this will fill at least 4 full days of reading.

(original version)8/10 bc it has everithing but its still not a masterpiece of modern fanfic literature sorry

Unholyverse

Contains Demons, priests, scarfs, exorcisms(affectionate), vergin mary tatoos and much more. Not as carefully written as throam or tas, but it still makes it as one of the good fanfics solely for the cool factor.

It would be so cool if this was better written and a comicbook or a grafic novel with original characters.( I skipped all the sex scenes bc they made me uncomfy, as usual so idkwhat was going on there)

If there was anything extremely upsetting about this one i forgot about it (i checked: they say “ warnings for religious themes, pain, trauma, blood, torture and death”). There is a lot of plot, its not even just one fic its a whole serie.

Great for passing the time, I forgot most of it 7/10 for the demons (original version)

#throam #asotm #milk fic #twist and shout #filthy lucre #unholyverse #uhv #hat fic #lung fic #anatomy of a fall #i did this so no one has to #iconic fic list #none of them is actually good #and all of them are results of the internet's 2015's slash paring of the month obsession #fanfiction

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honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s · 4 years

Text

Golden |Drew Soulmate AU| Two|

A/n lowkey ngl im like really proud of this chapter. i really hope y’all like it. also idk if i wanna write a smutty chapter for the next part. i’d love to hear your opinion on if i should or not because ive never written smut before so itd probably be trash so...... whatcha think?

Warning: Swearing, kinda fast paced (wish it was slow burn but i dont have the attention span for that), mentions of vomit (at the end)

Word Count: Approx 1.9 k

APRIL 22ND 2020 12:32PM

“I’m going to shit myself.” Y/n said, moving the same strand of hair out of her face.

“Well that’s a really cute dress, you better fucking not.” Naya tutted from her position leaning against her bedroom wall.

“Okay. I’ve got this, right?”

“Yes! Now go get yo man! He’s still outside waiting for you.”

Y/n smiled at her reflection and let Naya drag her out into the hall. Naya walked over to the door and looked out the peephole.

“You didn’t tell me that he was that hot.”

Y/n pushed her out of the way to look through the peephole. Drew was leaning against a street pole and damn did he look good.

“Go get him girly.”

Y/n opened the door, Drew standing up straight at the sound of the door being opened. Drew’s heart stopped. She looked gorgeous and damn red was definitely her colour.

“Wow, you look, wow, you’re gorgeous.” Drew smiled as Y/n did a little twirl in response.

Y/n giggled and linked her arm through his. They walked down the street together to a small coffee shop that Drew said sold “chocolate chip cookies so good you’ll never be able to eat another cookie again”.

“The outside of your apartment looks nice.” Drew teased as they rounded the corner together.

Y/n blushed, sputtering out an apology. Naya hated having guests in their apartment even if it was for a few minutes.

“You’re cute when you blush.” Drew smiled down at Y/n, his hair flopping down against his forehead.

“You’re cute.” Y/n stated, spinning around so she was facing him while she walked backwards in front of Drew.

Drew reached out and took Y/n’s hands in his to make sure she wouldn’t fall over. Y/n’s skin tingled as their fingers interlocked. Damn, she could get used to this.

“Am I now?” Drew chewed on his lower lip as a rosy blush grew across his cheekbones. Drew chewing on his bottom lip when he got complimented made Y/n wanna compliment him for the rest of eternity.

“I suppose.” Y/n shrugged.

Drew gently tugged Y/n’s hands in protest, laughing along with her.

"How long have you been living in LA?" Drew asked, still holding Y/n’s hand.

"About a year or so. Naya, my roommate, we went to high school together and we were best friends. She wants to sing and well her dream brought us here."

"What about you?" Drew asked, tilting his head to look at her.

"What about me?"

"You told me why Naya's here, why are you here?"

"I wanna write. Or paint. I don't really know. Naya knew what she wanted, I'm just along for the ride." She shook her head in embarrassment. "What are you doing here?"

Drew smiled. "I'm an actor. I moved here from North Carolina to find my big break." Drew chuckled.

“Have you found it yet?” Y/n looked up at him as Drew stopped outside the coffee shop. It was a small building on the corner of the street, with window boxes filled with artificial blue carnations.

“I don’t know.” Drew smiled a sad smile before reaching forward and opening the door to the coffee shop, the smell of freshly baked cookies hitting Y/n instantly. Although the place was small, the inside felt bigger than it actually was. There were an elderly couple sitting in the corner beside the door and a young woman sat in the far corner working on a laptop with a forgotten cup of coffee beside her.

“This place is beautiful.” Y/n sighed in pleasure, Drew grinning as he took her hand and pulled her over to a table in the left hand corner beside a small window. Drew pulled out Y/n’s chair for her, she laughed.

“And who said chivalry is dead?” Drew sat down across from her, trying to focus so much on how beautiful she looked when she laughed.

“It’s easy to be chivalrous when it comes to you.” Drew shrugged, looking down at the table trying to ignore the rising blush on his cheeks. He had never felt like this about anyone before, they barely knew each other but already he craved to be closer to her. He needed to know everything about her, he needed to touch every inch of her skin, he needed her like an alcoholic needed a shot of whiskey. And with every passing second it just got worse. He was addicted. And so was she.

APRIL 22ND 2020 2:56PM

They walked out of the café, giggling and talking about everything and nothing at all. All they knew was that this date couldn’t end, not yet anyway.

“Wanna go to the beach? My car is parked around the corner.” Drew asked standing in front of Y/n, basking in her presence, their fingers still interlocked.

Y/n couldn't agree fast enough. Drew’s car was parked just a few feet down the street from the coffee shop, “I might have gone in before our date to ask them to save that table for us.”

Y/n climbed into the passenger seat and Drew drove them to the beach. Y/n reached over intertwining her pinky finger in his as he drove.

She stared out the window, hypnotised by the passing trees. Drew sneaked glances at her, hypnotised by Y/n.

From the Dining Table softly played in the background of their moment. Y/n basking in the presence of her soulmate, Drew basking in the presence of a girl he wished to know. So far from each other despite their interlocked pinky fingers all because of a bond meant to bring them together.

APRIL 22ND 2020 5:57PM

“You’re so golden.” Y/n muttered at Drew as she ran her fingers through his hair. They lay beside each other on an old ratty blanket Drew found in the trunk of his car. Drew’s hands were placed firmly on her waist, rubbing small circles on her still slightly damp skin from when he chased her along the shore.

Drew stared longingly at her lips, trying to tear his gaze away. He was not one to kiss on the first date and the last thing he wanted was to scare her off.

“Am I now?” Drew teased, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth.

Without thinking Y/n reached out and removed his lip from between his teeth. Him chewing his bottom lip did unholy things to her.

Drew swallowed as Y/n kept her thumb on his lip, carefully rubbing it before moving her hand to rest on his jaw.

Drew’s voice was hoarse, sending shivers down her spine as he said, “I really fucking want to kiss you right now.”

Y/n licked her lips, as Drew’s hand made their way to rest on her hips. “Please,” she whispered, taking in shallow breaths, “kiss me.”

Drew pulled her into him as he pressed his lips to hers, her hands instantly found their place in his hair. The kiss was slow and soft, all movements gentle and cautious despite the hunger in both of their chests.

Drew slowly pulled away, resting his forehead against Y/n’s as the both tried to collect their breaths. It was pointless as the more they tried to catch their breath, all they could smell was each other and before they knew it their lips were crashing back together.

This was needier but slow and sensual. Drew lay on his back, pulling Y/n on top of him to straddle his waist.

One of her hands was under his chin, ensuring that his lips never left hers. Drew’s hands were on the small of her back until one slowly crept up to her hair and the other under her jacket, pressing her even closer to his chest.

Drew slowly pulled away, taking Y/n’s bottom lip in between his teeth, drawing a moan from her as she devoured his lips again.

The connection between them, their soulmate connection, tugged at Y/n until they separated, Drew held her close to his chest. As he told her a story about his time in college, Y/n couldn’t ignore the fear that he’d never realise they were soulmates. Remembering the address that Naya wrote in her phone, Y/n swallowed her fear and enjoyed this moment with Drew.

APRIL 25TH 2020 1:28PM

“Mrs Lopez, I’m Y/n L/n, I’m Naya’s best friend. I need your help.” Y/n stood on the steps outside of a two storey house with vines growing on the walls and an arch of flowers over the front gate.

An elderly woman of average height opened the door, she had dark skin which was wrinkled with age although she held a youthful aura about her.

“Of course, soulmate problems eh? Come on in Chiquita.”

Y/n walked into her house, silently wondering how she knew that she had soulmate problems. Mrs Lopez led her into a small room at the front of the house that smelt of incense. Mrs Lopez gestured to Y/n to sit down at a small table as she took a seat across from her.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I, well I, I think I found my soulmate.” Y/n stuttered, she felt foolish but she was desperate.

“Bonita that’s wonderful. What’s worrying you?” Mrs Lopez reached over and took Y/n hands in hers.

“He doesn’t know. He has no clue we’re soulmates and it’s killing me.” Y/n groaned, the pain in her chest returning.

“Oh you poor thing. That is unusual.” Mrs Lopez clicked her tongue, she released Y/n’s hands and poured her cup of hot chamomile tea.

“Are you sure that he’s yours? Sometimes emotions can cloud our spiritual judgements.”

“Yes. I know. He’s just, I know Mrs Lopez.” Mrs Lopez smiled a sad smile when her nose scrunched up suddenly.

“What age is he? When’s his birthday?”

“Em, November fourth, I believe. He’ll be turning 27.”

“Oh Amor.” Mrs Lopez shook her head as she stood up and started rummaging in her drawers.

“What? What’s wrong?” Y/n sat up, watching as Mrs Lopez walked around the room with surprising grace for her age.

Mrs Lopez didn’t respond as she walked back over to Y/n, a small bottle in her hand.

“We have the same soulmate through every lifetime. We may have different bodies, but the soul remembers. Something must have happened to him in his past life that is blocking him from remembering you in this life. You need to get him to remember what happened.” Mrs Lopez handed Y/n the bottle, “A few drops of this in a drink or in food until the memory returns should do the trick. It should take about three months to work. It’s just a herbal remedy, so it’s perfectly safe.”

Y/n held the bottle in her hands, she could solve this.

“Sometimes, the universe is wrong. Make sure you actually want this, you have the choice to choose if you want him to remember you. Some people don’t get that luxury.” Mrs Lopez sounded like she spoke from experience.

“But what did you need to know his birthday for?” Y/n watched as Mrs Lopez’s face fell in melancholy.

“Have you ever heard of the 27 club?”

“You mean the conspiracy about a bunch of celebrities dying at 27?” Y/n chuckled in confusion.

“There’s a reason. Soulmates are precious and rare so you only have so long to form the bond with them.” Y/n felt sick, “You have until their 27th birthday. But sometimes we run out of time and sometimes people can’t handle it.”

“Why? What happens if I can’t get Drew to remember me before his 27th birthday?”

“Amor,”

“Please. Mrs Lopez tell me.”

“You’ll forget. Both of you will forget that you ever met each other and every memory you have together, will leave you. You’ll only be left with a feeling that something is missing.”

Now Y/n was going to be sick.

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