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everythingne · 9 months ago

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out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

series masterlist

warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, car accidents with very minor injuries, this chapter was originally twice the length.... i had to cut half of it for next chapter LMAO, wrote this instead of doing my finals !

(ch4) (ch6)

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday. I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media. I know its going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots until I make eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anixety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, and though I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one. I can tell he senses my apprehension as he nods, and he excuses himself from Oscar and Alex's sides to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max, nearly being shoved aside before I'm grabbed and pulled and into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his finger tips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, bringing the hand thats not still clutching my waist up to comb through his hair, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand down from his shoulders to pat his forearm, before squeezing it as I speak,

"No, Logan. I should've told you from the beginning what I wanted. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, we're split apart by media duties. I try to turn back to say something when he grabs my wrist to pull me back to him and from Charles, who turns back with a confused look. Even I'm confused, before I'm laughing as Logan's planting a goodbye kiss on my cheek with a softy murmur of 'keeping up the look.' And no matter how hard I try, I can't find a logical defense for my blush.

So of course, Charles teases me about it, which is caught on nearly every camera in our direction as we're brought to the little media pen this time. Luckily out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who want a headline.

And the first reporter for me is luckily The Ophelia Piastri.

"Danny..!" She sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Hi, Ophie." I smile, leaning in to give her a tight hug. Luckily during media I didn't have to wear my team uniform, so I had been dressed to the nines in the white and red Ferrari dress-jacket-thing, with the little cape thing on the back. I knew I looked good, which is why I assumed Ophelia had grabbed me before she went off to find Lewis.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"So, this is Ferrari, of course. I cannot remember the name of the jacket for the life of me. It's a white leather trench coat with a red silk trim, Ferrari's black boots with, of course, the red trim, and a black Ferrari purse. I am completely Ferrari today."

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

Her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting, mostly because we keep getting off track, and then I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

It's Sky News who comes to be annoying, some reporter I don’t recognize. I glance over to Logan, who is on my left side down a bit in the media pen and find him staring. He looks away quickly and I bite back a laugh as Charles knocks my shoulder with his to keep me paying attention. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles tightens his grip on my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me, holding the microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again, this time my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory and Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter with a confused look. As I fall back, I let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips as I realize it’s fucking Anthony Davis and that’s why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “if that hallway stuff you released to press as blackmail against Logan to do that interview with you wasn’t already enough.”

Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out, I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

“We’re done with you, thanks sir, make sure to tell David I said hi.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

Charles tires go and he nearly crashes out right before the end and my back wing is broken by the time I’m done. With the challenges we faced, we both do qualify higher than expected which does make me feel a bit better.

After standing and talking about the car and strategy for way too long, I’m let loose to the solstice of my drivers room. The pristine and almost shockingly tidy room is a safe haven as most the chaos of this weekend and I allow myself to relax as I slowly get myself undone from the race.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“Charles owed me a favor for all the times I’ve snuck him into Red Bull.” Olivia shrugs as she pops her purse down next to me on the couch, “and Lando doesn’t like me walking the paddocks by myself anymore.”

“That fucking reporter.”

“Don’t.” Olivia points at Lando, who huffs, and she then crosses the room to sit next to me on the couch before Lando can snag the seat. Olivia continues to speak after pausing to sip her drink, “good take down of Anthony today, little debutante."

“Ah. Thank you.” I laugh softly, brushing my hair with the same red brush, eyes glancing over to Lando and Olivia as I try to keep my blush to a minimum. Olivia's soft compliment made my heart skip, as any praise did. It was hard to come by it in this sport and I was honestly happy it was Olivia who was supporting me like this.

“How’re you feeling? You did pretty good for a busted car. I saw how fucked that rear wing was when I was pulling in the pits after Q1.” Lando continues the conversation and I shrug, turning at Olivia's cue so she can start to braid my hair for me. It's weirdly like having my mom or sister do it, I hate how much it makes me miss home.

“It sucks I’m not higher. Wallahi, I'm so tired of this." I complain, rolling my eyes back as I try and keep myself calm. Frustration wouldn't get me anywhere here, "they’ve been harping on me all season about getting back to the level I was at in Bahrain. And they're acting as if every race since, I haven’t had terrible car issues! Sorry you guys fucked up my car!"

"Sounds like Ferrari." Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say this same thing over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about it, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid and then squeezes my shoulders and pulling me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

I go to bed that night with a migraine. The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn but they won't box me, and sulk in my drivers room after due to losing my podium position. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I ask so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they refuse to pull me into the pits, but it’s the most dangerous. I have no grip, I have nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I don’t crash out.

And when Aakash is not supportive over the radio, maybe I lose my cool, and maybe that’s what causes half the garage to give me the cold shoulder as I get out of the car. I do what’s needed, barely speak, don’t smile, and then retreat to my room with the hope of my anger dissipating.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water, the debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage still, but he's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me and swallow the sick feeling in my gut.

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder, saying,

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out as I swallow hard, my hands shaking immediately in a mix of rage and embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid?

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

If I cry one more time before the end of May, someone might get strangled.

I retire to my hotel room early that night. Even when all I wanna do it party, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities, and ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone asking why I'm not at the after party. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed--still in my fireproofs. I can't bring myself to move, a mix of anxiety in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets. My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice. I can't lie to her.

I have to ignore her so they think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. But that monster claws at the restraints and slowly breaks them.

Hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocks at my door. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. I just stay still, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"Just checking to see if you're alive, mini-me." He smiles, opening the door a bit more so from my vantage on the bed, I can see Charles and Logan behind him. I know they all see I'm still wearing everything I had on at the track, and I see remorse in Charles' eyes when he sees my state, but I shake it off.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on, or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. I just sit there, then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, yawning into the back of my hand. Logan steps into the door frame, welcoming himself in. I don't argue as he crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“It’s just… it’s been a rough weekend and I kinda snapped after the race ‘cause this migraine won’t go away.” I lie half now, Logan seems to buy it a bit more as he leans forward and gently pulls some of my stray hairs back behind my ears—settling them how he knows I like it.

“You did really well for all the issues you were having. Can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control, Danny.” Daniel says from the doorway where he and Charles lean, I squint when I look towards them in the light and see while Danny looks full of concern—Charles looks sick.

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh. About twenty minutes later they leave, after Charles runs down to grab a Doordash they force me to order. Logan calls me much later, telling me to sleep so I don’t feel like shit tomorrow.

We talk on the phone for so long he ends up sleeping in the same bed as me, arm wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish.

Because what could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P9 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing.

"It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of my tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Isa," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up!"

"You've been podium every race except for Australia when Oscar beat you and Max." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... its just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Mercedes but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

"Well how is that my fault, Charles!" I ask, groaning softly as I bury my head in my hands and come to sit next to him. It's not like I had told Ferrari to pick me, it had been a huge surprise they had. Charles has no answer and I just huff and lean back into the couch's plush surface and hide my face.

"I'm miserable too." I complain into the air, and it's frustrating to admit it. Charles can tell I don't wanna talk about it, so he just pulls me to his side and lets me curl up there. I feel like a child, but I feel safe.

—

Miami proves to be more difficult than I expected.

I had qualified really well, starting in P4 with Max, Charles, and Lando ahead of me. I was holding my own during the race, but Ferrari wasn't clearing me to pass Charles to try and take P2. Which is honestly the least of my worries right now. Aakash has been non-exsistant on the radio today, barely answering as per usual. I was basically using my own strategy at this point, pulling off of tips I had been given by Charles for this track.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“Woah!” I shout, turning clear of whoever is in the Alpine that’s stuck half off the gravel, I make some sort of contact but not enough to deter me, “Alpine is down on the track, hit him, I think front damage? Rear wing is still locked in DRS.”

“Understood. Possible red flag coming up, use these last seconds to try and secure position.” Aakash says into my headset and I reply back with a soft ‘copy’ as I go to turn normally but for some reason I find that I whip to the side—under steering hard. Luckily, by pure coincidence, it keeps Oscar behind me and secures a place in P3 behind Charles. But the car isn’t driveable in this state, extremely dangerous, and my hands shake as I struggle to press down my radio button while holding the wheel steady.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

“How bad is it?” Aakash asks and I grit my teeth as I pull into the next turn. I curse softly, breaking a bit harder than I need to but managing somehow to keep Oscar behind me. I think he knows to stay back, that something is clearly wrong,

“Terrible, terrible! I can’t fight like this!” I snap, groaning as we move now to a straightaway. Oscar comes to my left and I steer towards, Aakash is calling that the flag is flying and the safety car has been deployed, but my eyes are on Oscar as he tries to maneuver around the other side but I cut him off again—or try to.

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying Florida rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"Fuck you." Is my reply as I grab my restraints and slowly unclick them. It's agony to move as I take out my steering wheel and pop it on the top of the car, hoisting myself up and nearly buckling back down into the car in pure pain. I manage to get myself out by the time medics arrive, they take me to medical to get checked and it's like I'm not even worried about. No one from Ferrari comes to check on me.

I limp myself back to the paddock, guarded by McLaren employees and followed closely by Lando and Olivia--who is softly scolding the FIA in her phone. Her voice thick in frustration over Ferrari's dismissal of me, her hand on my lower back supporting me as I walk. Once they get me back to Ferrari, Olivia forces her way in to escort me to my drivers room.

"I'm gonna get them fined for this bullshit." Olivia mutters, helping me sit down on my bed. I don't reply as she hands me a change of clothes and then gives me a soft hug, the painkillers slowly kicking in and making my dull pain fade. Once I feel a bit better, I wave her off to go home and she reluctantly does.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" I shout in frustration, my hand itching to throw my helmet across the room at him. I’m not violent, I never have been, I don’t understand why I’m so short of breath. It feels like the rage in my belly fights to be fed by all the oxygen in my lungs, my hands shaking as he slam my helmet down and punch the plush surface of my bedding.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“No, listen to me! [You all love Charles, treat him like your golden child! He coughs and you all run to get medicine, but when I am out there and I am struggling and nearly dying, you do nothing! I fought with a broken wing and a fucked up steering wheel and what help did I get?!]” I snap at him in my mother tongue, watching his face fill with something like horror as I step even closer, “[None of you were there for me! You all went to coddle poor Charlie—he was fine! I was the one who suffered for you! Where is my help? You have all done this the whole season!]”

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

“Get the fuck out of my room! I’m not doing media! I’m going the fuck back to my hotel.” I snap and Aakash listens, quickly ducking out of the room. I rip off my suit and throw it in my bag and I get changed into my street clothing, only pausing to touch up my makeup. I pass by Charles coming back from podium with a cold shoulder and shove through the crowd to my car, digging out my keys and getting in. I sit there, hands tight on the wheel for a while, and my fingers start to go numb as I feel like my brain is shutting off and going into autopilot.

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

I come back to my senses sharply, knees digging into the tile as I’m sitting on the floor in the bathroom. I can feel the remenants of a panic attack shaking off my limbs, leaving them staticky. My hands shaking at the slamming at the door to my hotel room.

“Isa!”

There’s only one man who calls me that.

I try to shout that I’m gonna let him in but the words are caught in my throat, and I hear him echo and think I’m going crazy as I whine into the bathroom air. Then I realize I’m clutching my phone tight enough to shatter the screen and Logan’s contact is up—blazing bright into my face.

“Lo…?” I wheeze and I hear him pause mid knock before he shuffles and—

“Isa?” He crackles into the phone screen and I nearly sob at the familiarity of his voice.

“I-Give me a second. I’m coming to the door.” I whisper, slowly raising to my feet and stumbling out into the hall as my senses fight to try and come back to me in full. My hands are numb when I un-deadbolt the door and I barely have enough time to step back after I pop the door open. In a flash, Logan is everything around me, tucking me against his chest, his hand carding through my hair, kicking the door shut behind us and sighing softly.

“Oh, Isa—“ He murmurs into my hair and I feel the numbness snap away in favor of tears as I bury into his grasp and sob. I have cried more since starting F1 than I have in my entire life.

“Oh, Isa, I’m so sorry they’ve turned you into me.” Logan presses his hands to either side of my face, lifting me back so I can look at him. I remember how a week ago I was afraid of loving him, how I was terrified I'd lose him, and yet here he was as stubborn and comforting as always.

"I can't do this Logan." I hiccup, letting him bring me into his arms once more, kisses trailing my forehead as he keeps me locked in tight, "I can't take another day of this comparing bullshit! They hate me, all of them in Ferrari. I don't even know if I still have Charles."

"Charles aactually spoke to me this morning about getting you out of Ferrari." Logan murmurs into my hair and I step back, wiping my face as I blink at him.

"What?"

"Ferrari is using you as a way to push Charles up and he hates it. He was seeing who is staying in what teams for next season. Alex might be moving, Williams might have an open seat, and I might've helped to convince them to write 'Dubey' on it." Logan wipes some tears I missed and smiles, kissing my forehead again and I lean into every soft touch of his, "Obviously, they still need to talk to you, but I can set up that meeting if you need help with that."

When I don't reply with words, but rather the quick press of my red lips to his, his eyes widen in shock and a giggle erupts from the back of my throat.

"Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" I whisper, watching blush peek on his cheeks as he wipes a few more tears from my splotchy face and grins.

"A few times, but I don't mind hearing it over and over again.” he grins.

f1 made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, anyadubey, logansargeant, and 697k others...

f1: hours after it was announced that @ scuderiaferrari is being investigated for mistreatment of @ dhanishkadubey, Dubey announced her departure from the team in the next season, citing 'differing opinions' as the reason for the split.

dhanishkadubey: love u tifosi thank u for an incredible rookie year so far <3

logansargeant: 👀

user1: run girl run

user2: that didn't take long.

charlesleclerc: je te souhaite le meilleur pour ton avenir, petite étoile xx

user3: WAIT?? IS SHE CONTRACTED FOR 2025 BC IT DOESNT SAY SHES LEAVING ENTIRELY??

user4: WHO IS TAKING MY POOKIE.

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant imagine #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic #nicole wrote this

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erosology · 10 months ago

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yes, i do think a giant austrian military man splitting me open on his cock and telling me what a good little slut i am for taking him so well would help ease the burden of existing in this hellish time. why do you ask?

#; ophie speaks #hi i might be in heat again #and might i mean i definitely am #whoopsie daisy #crying at work but wish i were crying on his **** instead #könig #konig #könig call of duty #konig call of duty #könig x reader #konig x reader #könig cod #konig cod

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goldenmagnolias · 1 year ago

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lost in the labyrinth of my mind

pairing: OC High Lord of Dusk x Archeron!Sister

summary: Reverie Archeron has always been different. Different in a good or bad way depends on who you asked. Now a High Fae, and with another war approaching she tries to be as helpful as she can around Velaris and with her baby nephew, but at a High Lord meeting, the countless dreams she has as a child and the feelings that are not quite hers suddenly make sense and things become something that she never could have seen coming.

a/n: the plan/outline regarding this chapter was completely different but I ended up liking this too much to scrape it. so ophi and ria haven’t met properly just yet. but we do get a small glimpse into something very important and ria does meet someone.

masterlist // ao3

CHAPTER IV: WARMTH

The first thing that came back to Reverie’s awareness was more of a sensation. Something singing inside of her chest, weaving itself around her heart.

Then the scent of Opium poppies mixed with strawberries and sandalwood, invaded her senses.

Much like the scent that she would dream while walking on those now so familiar clearings. That would get stronger when she approached the canopy of orange trees.

She slowly felt more awareness coming to her, she was laying down in something soft. There were muffled noises, voices speaking close to her but it was like she had her head underwater. Everything was murky.

She felt a familiar hand clutching her own, she knew that was Nesta’s — whose fingers were tracing her knuckles, in a nervous manner.

A hand moving a strand of hair from her face, Elain.

And she could feel Feyre’s presence both physical and close to her mind.

“She’s awaking.” Feyre’s voice was the first one she heard properly but it was the raw worry in it that made Reverie open her eyes. Eyes that met her sister blue ones but also the ceiling of the winter palace.

Not the time to pass out Reverie, she chides in her mind.

‘I’m afraid, that was a fitting situation,’ Rhysand’s coice comes in her mind, but he’s not on her line of view.

“What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“No not that. Rhys said fitting situation.” Reverie says sitting up with Elain and Feyre’s help. “What did he mean?”

Feyre’s eyes moved towards Elain and Elain looked at Nesta.

“Guys, you three are freaking me out a bit.” Reverie says quietly, eyes darting between her sisters.

“Um… there’s a situation.” Nesta begins.

“A situation really?” Elain asks their eldest sister.

“How you you put it then Elain?”

“That it was her magic reacting.”

“Reacting to what?”

“A mating bond.” Feyre says quietly.

And the silence that follows is deafening. Reverie isn’t sure if she heard it right.

“What?”

“you’re apparently mated to the High Lord of Dusk.” Gwyn says when she realizes no one did elaborate.

Reverie blinks once, twice, thrice, “The what from where?”

“Apparently, besides the whole Kochei thing. Kallias was contacted by the High Lord of Dusk, who’s court had been trapped by magic for over a 700 years.” Feyre says, “you started going pale the second we could feel his magic.”

“oh.”

“Oh?” Nesta says, “that’s your reaction “oh”?”

“I didn’t think I would have a mate,” Reverie says quietly, “I mean yeah, there were the weird dreams in places I never saw but I thought it was my head trying to comfort me after everything, not a mating bond. And now?”

“Well the High Lords are meeting.” Elain says, and Rhys, Azriel and Cassian’s absences make sense. The other two were probably there to keep the united front and to watch over Rhys.

“Shouldn’t you be there Fey?”

“I am. In a way.” She says, tapping her temple. “They’re discussing the basics of what we know. Vassa is explaining what she knows and Jurian is being Jurian and glaring at everyone.”

“That tracks.” Lucien comments.

“Lainey?” Reverie calls turning to Elain.

“Yes?”

“Did you see anything regarding this or him?”

“No.” Elain shakes her head, “but his cousin had to drag him to the meeting when they decided it was for the best to give you some air.”

A knock on the door stops any comments anyone else might make, and Vivianne enters the room, letting out a relieved sigh when she sees Reverie awake.

“Oh good, thank the mother, you’re okay.” she then moves handing her a large mug. “Hot chocolate.” She says when Reverie frowns before accepting the mug, “obviously with added cinnamon.”

“Thank you, Viv.”

“No problem. A little pick me up after fainting is good. I wasn’t sure if you drank alcohol so sweet it is.”

“Good choice.” Elain says with a smile, brushing Reverie’s hair down.

“Now… Feyre, would you tell Rhysand to tell him about her being awake.” Vivianne says, “he looked like he was going to have a heart attack.”

“already done.”

“Territorial Males.” Vivianne says with a dramatic sigh, “they turn into such mother hens.”

Elain snorts while giving Lucien a pointed look.

“Anything you wanna say, Blossom?”

“No dearest, nothing.” Elain says with a playful smile.

Nesta rolled her eyes at the two but Reverie could see the happiness in her eyes at their sister happiness, as Nesta unconsciously kept tracing Reverie’s knuckles.

“Will any of you grace me with the knowledge of his name at least? Or will I be in the dark?”

“Ophiuchus.” Feyre says.

“Like the constellation?”

“Family tradition, I’m afraid.” A voice joins the conversation and a girl with curly jet black hair and silver eyes, makes herself know, with a quick dip of her head in green. “I’m Ayla Hesperus. Ophiuchus’ cousin, and his second.”

“I’m-“

“Reverie Archeron.” Ayla finished with a smile, “quite the myth all of you. Even with so little time with our court being able to contact the outside world again, the stories have already reached us.”

“Ophi almost fainted when we crossed the threshold into the palace. You can ask Lady Vivianne, he all but froze.”

“Just Vivianne, Ayla.”

The jet-haired woman nods but continues to look at Reverie, who looks at her, her curiosity getting the best of her so she has to ask.

“Does your court holds a clearing, a large one by a cluster of mountains. That has a canopy of orange trees by a lake?”

Ayla’s eyes widen. “You saw Euryphaessa.” She says slowly, “it’s our capital.”

“Well, if my dreams are anything to go by it’s beautiful.” Reverie says shyly.

“It is.” Ayla says with a smile. “Well, I just came to check on by. Taran deal with Ophi. I come here and see you’re okay by myself and he stays and pays attention on the meeting. Males I tell you, sometimes… by the mother. I will see you soon.”

And with a dip of her head she leaves.

“Did she just confirm I dreamt about a place that I’ve never been in or even knew that existed?” Reverie asks after a beat of silence.

“She did.” Lucien nods.

“Did any of you have that?”

“Dreamt of the night sky but not something specific.” Feyre says, with a pensive look.

“That’s nowhere near as specific, though.” Elain comments.

“Yeah, fair point.” Feyre says, “everything will be fine, Ria.”

“We are in the middle of a war, Fey.”

“Don’t do that to yourself.” Gwyn says, with a serious tone.

“Do what?”

“Try to push the idea that you can be happy away from your mind.”

Reverie sighs but nods under the gaze of the red headed Valkyrie and of her older sisters.

“It will be alright, Reverie.” Vivianne says comfortingly, “if it gives you any piece of mind, he’s very much a respectable male. And very very handsome.”

Reverie just nods stressing her lower lip with her teeth, but her cheeks flush slightly, the first action results in her gaining a squeeze on her hand from Nesta.

“Are we to stay here or go to the meeting?”

“Staying here is better.” Feyre says, “at least for now.”

……..

Vivianne promptly brings a lot of finger foods and drinks for the other’s when it’s decided that they’re staying in the room.

Elain ends up settling on redoing Reverie’s hair as Nesta and Gwyn tell Vivianne about the Valkyrie training.

“Your mind is away.” Elain says quietly.

“I’m a tad bit overwhelmed.” Reverie says back in the same tone. “And a bit embarrassed.”

“Whatever for?”

“I fainted Lainey.”

“The amount of magic that swirled around the room? It would be weird if you hadn’t.” Elain says.

“Maybe… is it stupid that I’m also nervous?”

“No no it’s not,” Elain says with a shake of her head. “It’s normal I’d say. Me and Lucien met under different circumstances but I do believe that nervousness is about normal when it comes to a mating bond. People just react to the nervousness in different ways.”

“You mean you hiding from him, Feyre throwing a shoe at Rhys and Nesta aggravating Cassian.” Reverie teases.

“And you fainting.” Elain teases back.

Reverie gives her a tentative smile.

“What’s really on that head of yours?”

“You’re a Seer, Nesta is Lady Death and a Valkyrie, Feyre is the Cursebreaker. I’m just me. What if that’s not enough?”

“It will be. You’re enough Reverie, more than enough” Elain says, adamant tone in her voice, as she finishes her hair, “and you never know. Things change with time. We did so didn’t we?”

“Okay.” Reverie says, letting out a breath. “That’s a good point. More than a good point actually.”

“Oh I know I’m brilliant,” Elain jokes practically preening in delight making Reverie laugh.

…..

taglist: @imma-too-many-fandoms

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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duunswitch · 2 years ago

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An hour and a half later, a soft thump shook the ground slightly as the large dragon alighted upon the lawn. "Hello? I'm back!" Leanne called, sliding to the ground and peering inside. When she didn't see him, and the kitchen showed itself to be empty she headed for the yard to spot him under one of the trees.

"Ah! There you are. Here, come meet Sneefle, yes? Sorry in advance if he seems a bit excitable, he doesn't often get to meet new people–"

"I'll have you know I'm perfectly polite!" A large reptilian head reached over her shoulder to peer at Ophi curiously, looking him up and down for a moment. "He's a rabbit. You didn't say he was a rabbit. Is he fae? You don't smell like one," it added added, turning his attention back to Ophi. "Oh! But my manners–I'm «Brightfully Orange Ball», but I prefer Sneefle if you please. Pleasure to meet you. He and him, in case you can't tell."

Two hours?

He could spend that time doing better things than making dinner, and he would feel bad for borrowing her things to make something. Ophiuchus nonetheless offered a nod, “I will be here finalising things on my end. I will bringing a vessel for you and your Dra – dragon friend to travel to my star safely.” He could tell that Hemlock was itching to relay the message from Lumi, if anything because he knew how impatient his wife could be.

With that said, he excused himself, allowing Leanne the chance to do what she needed. There was very little he could do at this juncture, other than ensure that the shard was still stable ( as stable as it could be ); and touch base with those who were invested in the situation. Once this was all done, he stood outside Leanne’s house, partially dozing under one of her trees as he waited for her to return.

#main;; stars will never fall #seatedsacrifice #don't worry about being able to pronounce his real name ophi #only dragons speak dragon it's fine

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lynnorien · 1 year ago

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i have made. the highly questionable choice of starting to play a horror game <- notoriously bad at handling horror

#i started earlier today and just made it past the meat cleaver things in the kitchen before i had to log #my heart rate spiked so noticeably during the Very First Encounter right after getting my gun 😭#i was fr not meant for horror #erika im blaming this on you for telling me what game that video was from <- not your fault at all #ophi plays signalis #<- might do some liveblogging. for funsies #she speaks #edit: just to be clear. i did not have to log because of the horrors #i had Tasks to do in the house :(

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isaut · 10 months ago

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ophie pls tell me about your fic titled voyeurs 🎤

hillie and moco have always been fascinated with lady ragnvindr. they think she's the most beautiful woman they've ever had the chance to lay their eyes on. they're as smitten as their master with the plushness of her skin, with her calming words and encouraged helplessness.

it especially kicks up after the lady ragnvindr falls ill. she was bedridden for weeks, and after was treated like glass. when the master of the house tells them to make sure she's taken care of, hillie and moco wish it went to the extent they've dreamed about.

it's when they've finished bathing the lady and massaging oils and cremes into her skin that they retire. there's warm tea in the master suite. there's warm tea in their hands, as they sit across from each other in their bedroom on their separate beds.

"do you think they're..." hillie begins, trailing off.

"do you think lady ragnvindr likes it on her back or on her stomach?" moco's eyes shine with the curiosity of her question.

hillie goes beet red.

"do you think master diluc pleasures her, or is it all for himself?" moco presses.

hillie stumbles as she speaks. "i- i mean- i think..." hillie looks down at her cup, mumbling the last bit, "i know master diluc pleasures her because i've walked in on them."

moco's jaw drops. she leans forward, grabbing hillie's face in her hand and forcing her to make eye contact. hillie's cheeks stay pushed together, her lips like a fish.

"show me what she looked like."

#mailbox💌#by ophelia #hiiiiiiiiiii i couldnt help myself #anyways they play a game called master and lady which is just an excuse for them to fuck and have it be a game

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beantothemax · 8 months ago

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"Prim! PRIMROSE!" a Ophilia shrieked.

Her throat must have hurt, Primrose thought. She couldn't ask her. The world around her faded, as though she slipped into a deep sleep. As she slept, she saw vivid visions of her father. He reached out to hug her, but he was just too far.

Strange. She always thought death would be different, perhaps more comforting and forgiving than life. 'You've lived a decent life, you may rest now', but no, she wasn't afforded a single moment of rest.

Perhaps the gods were uncertain about if she was to die or not. This feeling of life would come and go. Sometimes, she felt warmth and heard faint crying. Sometimes, someone called her name. Such a sweet voice, so lovingly asking her to come back.

Once when the warmth came, it would not go away. She felt as a heart faintly beat in her chest, as her senses returned and she felt pain and comfort. Everything ached so very much, but someone held her too, tighter than anyone had in years.

"Prim!" Ophilia cried, cradling her companion.

"Ophi-" Primrose tried to speak, but her voice gave out.

"Don't push yourself, you were horribly injured," Ophilia whispered.

She carefully lifted Primrose, bringing her to an oh so soft sleeping mat.

"Water," Primrose muttered.

"Of course, you'll probably feel sick for a bit," Ophilia murmured.

Ophilia left, and Primrose finally took in her surroundings. She was in a tent and the sun shone down on it. Birds chirped and the wind whistled faintly, likely pushing leaves and blades of grass around.

Ophilia stopped walking and spoke, "She's alive, but she's sick. Be quiet and calm when you talk to her, and only one at a time."

An entire group of people sighed deeply, as though they had all been holding in that breath forever, awaiting the wonderful news Ophilia had just given them.

Tressa came crashing into the tent first, tears pouring down her cheeks and she hugged Primrose.

"Prim, oh Prim! We were so scared for you! I'm so happy you're alive, I don't think any of us could've live without you!" she sobbed.

"Tres-Tressa, please be gentle," Primrose whispered, "I'm so very tired."

"S-sorry, I'm just happy to see you again."

Primrose was grateful Tressa wanted to see her first, she hardly had to speak as Tressa went on and on and on about everything that had happened in the year she had been dead.

"A year!?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, um- sorry, I don't think it's my place to say why it's been so long," Tressa murmured, "Olberic wanted to see you next."

She left the tent without another word, and Olberic entered some moments after. She asked him, begged him to say how she had been dead a full year, but he would not.

"What's happened with Erhardt then? Any news?" she asked.

"Erhardt and I got engaged, he's in Cobbleston now," Olberic explained.

"He wanted you to kill him last I heard!" Primrose said.

"...Apologies, that was a while ago. It's a little hard keeping track of everything that's happened in the past year."

"That's okay, tell me what happened though, how'd you two make up?"

Olberic looked at her with pure pity in his eyes but sighed and told the tale of how he and Erhardt took down Werner. Primrose listened intently, but she wished she could have been there. Of all their travel companions, she knew Olberic the longest, they were inseparable, but she couldn't even be there to help him find peace as he had done with her.

"What of Simeon?"

"He's dead. I dealt the final blow. I was the only one that could still fight after you died, so I killed him by myself."

"Thank you."

"Anything for my closest friend."

The rest came and went, crying in Primrose's arms before describing their accomplishments from the past year. How she envied them, always there for each other's achievements and to help each other. They all had goals to accomplish but all of their journeys had ended while she was gone.

Finally, the last one was Cyrus, but instead of him, Ophilia reentered.

"Isn't Cyrus there?" she asked.

"He is, he's- he's fine, but..." Ophilia trailed off.

"But what?"

"He did a lot of the work while reviving you, so he's exhausted. It's a lot of high level magic, especially with the injuries and merging," Ophilia explained.

"Sorry, "merging"?"

Ophilia's face became whiter than snow, and she quickly excused herself. Primrose finally stood, stumbling as she did, but standing nonetheless.

She chased after Ophilia, but stopped when the cleric hid in a tent and shut it.

"Leave me be!"

Primrose gave it a rest, joining the others by the campfire. She was worried, but she was excited as well. That strange feeling of being dead was gone, she wanted to live once more.

They spoke and laughed, singing songs of life and love now that their dear Primrose was back and their group was whole once more.

Olberic began preparing Primrose's favorite stew, letting her taste until it was just right.

"Can someone get Cyrus?" he asked.

"I'll do it!" Primrose offered.

And they all froze. Olberic shook his head, gesturing for her to stay. Alfyn silently left to find the scholar.

"What's wrong?" Primrose asked.

"I believen it ist not a good idea for thou to speaketh with him now, he ist not doing well," H'aanit murmured.

"Why? Is there anything I can do to help him?"

"Nay, it's- oh, Draefendi... Prim, listen, thou needeth drop this subject. He ist not upset with thee, he only needeth time to himself. In bringing thou back, he pushed himself to his limit, he needen be alone, like how he ist after battle," H'aanit explained so calmly, but she must not have realized how that sounded to someone who lacked the context she had.

"'Pushed himself to his limit'!? H'aanit, what did he do!?" Primrose cried.

"Calm down, it's nothing," Olberic said.

"No, of course it's not just nothing!"

She ran off to wherever Alfyn had gone. She found him in no time, having only followed the sound of his voice. She hid behind a tree, watching them. Only now did she realize she did not know where they were. It did not look like the Highlands, so they were some distance from Everhold. The thick woods resembled those near Victor's hollow.

"She's fine, just come back and eat," Alfyn said.

Cyrus muttered something so low Primrose could not make out what he said, but Alfyn reacted strongly.

"No, no! She's fine! She's not any less human because of minor body modifications, she's fine. I've talked to her, she's fine, she'll be okay," Alfyn reassured him.

Body modifications? What had they done!?

She emerged from behind the tree that concealed her, "Alfyn, back to camp now. I'm having a word with Cyrus."

Alfyn's heart dropped. He sputtered but left when she glared at him. He knew not what else to do, Primrose could not be reasoned with when she was upset.

The moment he was out of earshot, she tore Cyrus down from the low branch he sat on. He had not looked in her direction once, but now in the setting sun when she forced him to meet her eyes, she saw how they glowed. His skin was deathly pale and eyes shining as bright as any spell she had seen. He looked divine, not like a man.

"What did you do to me?" she growled.

"I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry," he murmured.

"Why? What did you do!?" she demanded.

But he wouldn't speak, he only hugged her tight. For a second, she was confused, but she hugged him back.

"It's- it's nice to see you again, I missed you," he sobbed.

"I missed you too, being dead is lonely," she replied, "Please, just tell me what happened."

He would not let go, would not look her in the eyes, but spoke, "We defeated Dreisang and Steorra in combat. They gave me their strength so that I could bring you back, but it wasn't enough."

"I'm with you so far," Primrose said.

Cyrus let go of her, taking several steps back.

"I-I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"We couldn't bring you back because your ribcage was shattered. Even when we used divine power to heal it, several ribs were missing and there wasn't enough skin to cover the wound. We needed replacements."

"So what did you do?"

He hesitated again, walking back and forth as he thought. Primrose could only wonder what was going on inside his head, what secret he guarded so carefully.

"I used spells of from the far reaches of hell to merge your body with Simeon's puppet of you. That thing was lifelike, it was the perfect replacement."

So that was it. Her chest was created by the same man who had ruined her life and wanted her and it had been put in as a replacement by someone she loved. She had been betrayed by such a dear friend, her feelings likely never considered as he used spells of a dark god to merge her with such an evil and horrible object created out of vile lust just so that she could live a meaningless life, no goal to work for with Simeon dead and her father avenged.

"Primrose, I'm sorry, but we had no other options! If any of us knew the magic he did, we would have created new parts for you! I truly wish I could have done something different!" Cyrus insisted, reaching out to hug her once more.

She swiftly dodged, running far away. She found the path, following it for hours. Far off, she heard Cyrus and the others search for her, but she wouldn't be seen again, at least not by them.

#HUH????????#BWUH???????#TH????#PIE WHAT IF I SCREAMED #HAVING TO BE MERGED WITH A TWISTED CREATION MADE IN YOUR IMAGE TO LIVE #I #I DO NOT HAVE WORDS #BUT #I NEED TO THROW SOMETHING OUT A WINDOW #asks #pie-knight #inbox fic

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