#sapphic morrigan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zoyaofthegardvn · 2 years ago

Text

Clingy

In which reader overhears Mor say something not too nice about her... miscommunication enuses!

A/N: Just because I wanted to write some angst! Not too much, though, lol, I only write happy endings on this blog! :)

CW: None! Angst to fluff!

The day had been long, and tiring. You worked at a school in the Night Court, specifically with children ages 5-10. Winter Solstice was approaching, and today was the last day before school was out for a bit of a break. Little ones were so, so antsy about the holiday, and it didn't help that snow had been coming down fast and hard all day, increasing the anxiousness to be released for the break. It was hard to wrangle them all and get them to pay attention to the day's lesson, because truly, you didn't want to spoil their fun.

But finally, the day was over. The children were home with their families for a few weeks, likely already out enjoying the winter wonderland in the glittering Velaris. As beautiful as you thought it was, all you really wanted was to be back home with your mate, wrapped up under the blankets together.

First, though, you had to meet her at the River House, where you know she had been meeting with other members of the Inner Circle to discuss an upcoming visit to the Court of Nightmares. It was only Feyre, Nesta, and Rhys, as Cassian, Amren, and Azriel were all on other diplomatic trips, preparing for the large gathering planned for the upcoming new year.

After winnowing to the front yard, you trudged through the thick snow, not bothering to knock before entering the large estate. It was quiet, Nyx likely occupied with Elain while the others conversed. You could hear their muffled voices coming from the center of the house, where Rhys' office was located.

You weren't trying to be especially quiet, but you also hadn't announced your arrival, either.

The doors to his office were closed, dim light seeping from underneath. As you got closer, you heard someone, maybe Feyre, mention your name.

This, of course, grabbed your attention, and you tiptoed forward gently to listen to what they were saying. Just a few steps away, you heard Nesta ask, "How are you two doing?"

The question wasn't odd as the two of you had just moved in together, so it was only natural that your friends wanted to know how this new stage in your lives was going.

Mor sighed before responding, "It's good."

This made your brows furrow, because if they had asked you, you would have replied that it was amazing, one of the best experiences of your life. You'd have said how much closer to her you felt, how much more in love with her you've fallen and how you can't wait to spend the rest of your lives together.

But, you knew that Mor did tend to keep her romantic life more private than some of the other members of the Inner Circle, just rivaling Amren. She trusted them with her life, of course, but it didn't erase the centuries she'd spent learning to be incredibly cautious with and protective of any love in her life.

There were just some things she preferred to keep private, being honest with these kinds of emotions has always been more difficult for her.

But, still, you wondered if maybe things weren't as perfect for her as they were for you.

You take another step closer, turning your ear to the door. Rhys chuckles, saying, "Just good? You're finally in a place to yourselves and it's just good? What happened to the Mor and Y/N I know, that were always complaining about living with," Rhys pauses, and you can see him deep in thought in your head. "What did she call us?"

Nesta speaks next, "A pack of unruly males?" the smirk evident in her voice.

Rhys and Feyre both laugh before Rhys speaks again, "Yes! You're telling me you're finally away from the Cassian and Azriel," Feyre cuts in, adding, "You too, Rhys!" before he finishes with, "Pissing contest?"

Mor laughs a bit, but she doesn't say anything.

You're really beginning to overthink now, your lips in a frown.

When the laughter dies down, Feyre asks, "Really, Mor, how is it? I miss having you both around."

Mor hums, and you can hear her take a large sip of wine now that you've moved to directly outside of the door, ear pressed to the dark wood.

"I love her, she's my mate, and I'm so glad to take this big step with her, but... it's different." Mor says, getting quieter by the end.

Your heart drops at the statement, and you can only listen as she continues.

"I g-guess.. she's just everywhere, you know? More clingy, too. It's only been two weeks, I'm still seeing how it goes..."

By now, your eyes are brimmed with unshed tears, and you begin to back away, not wanting to hear anymore and too worried you'll be discovered. The word she used, clingy, was ringing in your ears.

Yes, you were quite affectionate and cuddly with her. Especially now that you two had a private home, no risk of anyone seeing you be intimate and close. Not that you two hadn't been in front of your friends, but there was a different feel to it when you could wrap up on the couch together, cook a meal together, or read a book on the porch together completely alone. You loved it, cherished it, especially after spending so long wanting a romance like this, never thinking you'd find your mate.

You were devastated to know Mor didn't feel quite the same, but you loved her, of course, and didn't want anything to end between the two of you. You knew she loved you, but you wished she'd just told you if she was having any doubts about your living situation or if she wished you two could spend more time apart, rather than embarrass you in front of your friends.

Once you'd left the front of the River House, you winnowed away, to your and Mor's house.

You decided to get ready for the evening, that you'll just wait for Mor to return home instead of meeting her. You doubted that she'd notice, and that maybe, she'd appreciate the space you'd given her.

---

It's almost dark out by the time you heard the front door unlock and creak open. You'd begun to make dinner, a pasta sauce simmering on the stove next to a pot of boiling water, bread baking in the oven.

You listened to Mor shed her winter gear, ending with her boots landing on the mat by the front door. Her footsteps padded down the hallway, entering the kitchen where she saw you at the stovetop, back to the entryway.

"Hello, love," Mor said sweetly, before sniffing dramatically. "Whatever you're making smells amazing!"

You turn to look at her over your shoulder, smiling and thanking her.

Her brows drip just a bit in confusion, clearly expecting a more joyous greeting, but you send a loving pulse down the bond in an effort so soothe her, turning back to the food in front of you.

She walks forward, wrapping her arms around your waist, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You make no move to return the embrace, instead, continuing to stir the sauce that's nearly done.

She places a few kisses on your skin, then says, "I missed you today, baby. I thought you were going to meet me at Rhys' earlier?"

You place the spoon down, turning to look at her. "I had a long day at work today, so I figured I'd come home and start dinner early." You smiled at the end, to assure her that it was just a simple plan change.

She looks confused again for just a second, before she smiles and nods, leaning in to kiss your lips. You kiss her back, but pull away before she can deepen it. You didn't want to be cold, but you were still a bit hurt, and of course, you didn't want to seem clingy.

"Why don't you change into some comfier clothes, I'll have the food ready when you get back."

Mor slowly pulls away from you, nodding softly before backing out of the room.

You sigh, turning back to the stove.

By the time the pasta has been drained, added to the sauce pan, seasoned more to taste and plated, Mor is reentering the room. She dons a red nightgown. It isn't especially sexy, it covers her and is quite tame. But she knows how much you love her in red.

As you pull the bread from the oven and begin to place a piece on each of your plates, Mor grabs a bottle of wine from the rack Amren had gifted the two of you.

She pours you and herself a glass, placing them on the tables as you set the plates down. You go to gather silverware and napkins, but she pushes you to your seat, pecking your cheek. "Sit, my love, after cooking all this. I'll get the rest."

Truly, it wasn't much, and it definitely wasn't hard, but you two usually cooked together, so you know she likely wanted to feel like she did some of the dinner work.

You sat and waited, smiling at her as she set your things down on the table.

When she took her seat, you immediately began to eat, waiting for her to tell you about her day.

"So, do you want me to tell you about the Court of Nightmares trip?"

You nodded while sipping your wine, encouraging her to continue.

---

After your plates were cleaned and your wine glasses were emptied, you stood and began to collect the dishes. You hadn't talked much, and spoke little of your day. Your plan was to go to bed within the next hour or so, to give Mor some of the time alone she badly needed. There was a book Nesta had given you that you needed to finish anyway, a few knitting projects you'd started with Elain and had abandoned, some homework for the next term you could get a headstart on making.

Alone time, you decided, would be good for the both of you.

Mor helped you clean, singing a song under her breath to fill the silence. When you were done, she wrapped her arms around you again and kissed you, harder than before.

"I really missed you," she said against your lips, cupping your face with one hand and gripping your hip with the other.

And, of course, you missed her too. That was undeniable, and you can't resist kissing your mate.

"I missed you too, sweetheart, I'm glad you had a good day." You bumped her nose with your own, kissing her again, rubbing her arms and back.

She grips you tighter, pushing your body into hers. She groans in your mouth, and you pull away before it can go any farther.

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, you say, "I'm really tired, my love, I'm sorry."

She rubs your cheek with her thumb, kissing your forehead before pulling away. "That's okay," she says, always loving and sweet, never wanting to pressure you or make you feel bad. "I want you to tell me about it, I was excited to see you earlier and I got sad that you didn't come," your heart stings at her admission, but she continues on, "but I understand that you're tired. What happened today? Come lay down with me on the couch."

You feel a bit guilty for rejecting her like this, but, as gently as you can, you say, "I think I'm just gonna go to bed, love. I'm really sorry, I'm just exhausted. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, I swear."

Mor looks a bit surprised at your response. "Do you feel alright, Y/N, do you feel sick?"

You huff a laugh, smiling and shaking your head. You kiss her again, to alleviate any worry. "Just a headache, from the bad day, I think. I'm just going to lay down, you know, in the quiet, see if it helps. I'll likely be asleep pretty quickly."

Reluctantly, with a frown on her face, Mor nods. "Okay, baby. If you think that'll make you feel better."

You hum, "It will. I'm fine, Mor, really."

She releases you and grabs your hand, pulling you to the bedroom. "Let me at least tuck you in?"

You laugh at her, and nod your head. "Alright."

---

Later, in the solitude of your shared bedroom, you attempt to focus on the coursework in front of you.

Mor had, as she said she would, tucked you into bed. She fluffed the pillows, laid you down, dimmed the lights, cracked a window just a bit to cool the stuffy room. Then, she pulled the blankets up to your chin, kissing your forehead before again asking if you're alright.

You reassured her that truly, it's just been a very long day, trying not to be puzzled over her apparent newfound desire to be incredibly close to you tonight.

You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about the distance you'd been putting between the two of you this evening. But, you were admittedly still very hurt. You struggled to both wish that she'd spoken to you rather than behind your back, and be glad that she'd even opened up at all, likely wanting to spare your feelings. You did not want to drive her away from you by being... clingy. But, it was hard to do this, to be so... detached from one another.

You sigh in frustration, the blank sheet of paper in front of you taunting you. You resign to the fact that you will likely not get any work done tonight. Not for your job, not on Nesta's book, not your half knitted scarves. There really is nothing to do but think, and thinking is especially cruel on you tonight.

You... could go downstairs to join your mate. You can picture her, downstairs, cozy on the couch. Either painting her nails, reading a book, or maybe, unlike you, getting some work done on whatever work for the Night Court she'd been tasked with.

But... no. You wouldn't bother her. You'd give her her space, so long as she was happy and comfortable, you'd learn to be too with this new relationship dynamic. Really, so that you never lost her, you figured you had no choice.

It was a little over an hour later, long after you'd called it quits and shut the lights off entirely, that the bedroom door creaked open again.

You listened to Mor gently close the door behind her, and pad her way over to the bed. You were, very clearly, on your side of the bed. Almost to the edge. You hoped this didn't strike her as odd, because you rarely went to bed without her, you hoped it just seemed like you'd rolled over there in your sleep without her to cuddle up to.

She lifted the covers and slid in, yet remained still. You didn't dare show that you were still awake, and so you waited to see what move she made.

Finally, after several seconds of nothing, Mor shifted closer. She didn't cuddle you as intensely as usual, just reached a hand out to rest on your hip. Typically, you'd lay on her chest, or you'd take turns being the little spoon, or you'd lay facing one another with your legs and hands interlocked. You yearned for the contact, to feel her skin on your own. But, you made no move to get closer.

Falling asleep was difficult, especially without the comfort of your mate wrapped around you. But, eventually, under the weight of her delicate hand, you drifted off.

---

The next morning, you woke to sunlight trickling in through the blinds. You could see a bit of dust floating through the air, and you faintly picked up on the sound of yet more snow falling.

Turning to look beside you, you saw Mor, asleep and cozy. She looked so warm, so tired, yet not entirely peaceful. A small frown was painting her face, and you furrowed your brows in confusion. Sitting up in the bed, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, then her pouted lips. She didn't wake up at the touch, and you opted to let her sleep in rather than cuddle her until the both of you were awake and ready to start the day.

You shivered at the cold floor touching your barefeet, slipping fuzzy slippers Feyre had gifted you one year onto your feet. You gently exited the bedroom, careful to not disturb Mor's rest.

As you prepared coffee in the kitchen, you studied the snowfall from the window above the sink. It was gorgeous, a glittery white coat making the green of the trees surrounding your property stand out. Your house was tucked away in the woods, as it has been your dream to have a home surrounded by your favorite scenery. The house is private and cozy. But, it is also incredibly close to the heart of Velaris, just located on the closest edge of the city. That decision was for Mor, who loved city night life.

As you observe the weather, you wonder if you made a mistake choosing a home so secluded. The snow was thick and falling fast. Visibility was low, and you didn't need to go outside to know that it was bitter cold. Whatever plans you and Mor had for the day would be no more, as the weather was far too intense for any traveling.

This should have made you excited, squealing with glee. It should have sent you straight back to the bedroom, to sleep in with Mor, or, to wake her up and get her to enjoy the beautiful sight with you.

But, it made you... nervous. Nervous to see her reaction to her being snowed in with you, nervous that because neither of you could escape, one of you, likely her, would decide to leave for good when the snow cleared.

You shake your head, sipping your coffee, feeling silly for such dramatic thoughts.

She doesn't hate you, you thought. She loves you very much, she just needs space.

As if your sour thoughts had summoned her, Mor strolled into the kitchen. You hadn't heard her wake up, too lost in your head.

You turned to look at her, smiling softly over your mug, sending a loving pulse down the bond before you have to break the news to her.

She smiled back, tugging on your bond, walking up to you planting a firm kiss to your lips.

"Good morning, beautiful," Mor whispered against your lips, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you.

"Mmmm, good morning." You pressed a kiss to her hair, inhaling her scent.

You pulled back, turning to grab her favorite mug from a cupboard. "I made coffee, shall I make you a cup?"

You're pouring the coffee before she answers, knowing she'll never turn a cup of coffee down. She nods, then takes your spot at the sink, observing the snow as you had previously done.

"It's coming down hard, I didn't expect all this!"

You wince at the comment, hoping she isn't too terribly disappointed that she's trapped here.

"Yes, I thought yesterday was to be the worst of it. It doesn't look like we'll be able to do much today..." You trailed off at the end, bracing for a sight of disappointment.

When one didn't come, you turned back to her, holding out her mug that now contained coffee sugared and creamed to her liking.

She looked at you, wiggling her eyebrows and biting her lip. She took a deep sip from her mug before setting it down, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it on the counter, too. She grabbed your hand, pulling you to the stairs, presumably back to the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" You asked, genuinely confused.

"Let's get some more clothes on, silly! There's so much snow to play in!" She giggles as she speaks, like it should be obvious what her plans for today are.

You let her pull you into the bedroom, watching as she rummages through drawers and your walk in closet. She pulls out several layers of clothes for both you and her, throwing them onto the bed. She starts to pull her nightgown over her head before catching your confused gaze.

"What's wrong, Y/N? I thought you loved snow?"

She's right, you do love snow. You loved the look of it, the feel of breathing in the cold air. The snowmen you could build and the snowball fights you were always determined to win. The crunch of it underneath your boots and the smoothness as you held it in your gloved hands.

That wasn't why you hesitated, though.

"I do!" You were quick to clarify, not wanting it to seem like you were the one not wanting to spend this time together. "I just... we can't really do anything today, with it coming down like this." Mor just stared at you, waiting for you to continue. "I-I mean, aren't you a little upset? Didn't you have more things to meet with Rhys and Feyre about? Weren't you going to help plan the New Year party?"

Mor slowly released the hem of her gown, confusion painting her face. "I mean, yes, I did have those plans today, but why would I be upset? It's just a party, one that's still days away." She stepped closer towards you, and you could sense that she was growing a little aggravated. "Why would I be mad that I get a day off, a day to spend at home?"

You wanted to say, because it's a day with me, another day you don't get to have alone. But, you didn't. Your goal has never been to start a fight over this, and so you backed down before one could start.

"I don't know, Mor. I just wanted to make sure you weren't upset about it... the way it looks outside, it could be a few days until everything is back to normal. I didn't mean to imply anything, I'm sorry."

Mor didn't say anything for a moment, just nodded her head and continued to frown.

"D-Do you... do you still want to go outside?" You asked tentatively, the air charged with frustration, confusion, hesitation.

Mor sighed, closing her eyes for a second before moving to pull on a pair of sweatpants, discarding her nightgown and putting on a sweater. "I don't feel like it anymore, maybe later."

She didn't look at you as she spoke, speaking under her breath and hurrying past you to the door.

You tried to grab her arm, to stop her from fleeing, but she moved out of your reach and left to go downstairs.

"Damnit." You muttered under your breath. You had never intended to upset her, but you also didn't think you had done anything to deserve her anger.

But, it seemed like now she truly did need that alone time she'd apparently been craving. You wouldn't stoke her anymore, you'd let her calm down, and you'd stay out her way, even if it mean enduring the radiating disappointment from the bond.

---

You spent most of the morning locked away in the bedroom, staying out of Mor's way. You left once to fix another cup of coffee, Mor was sitting at the table, touching up her red-painted nails. She just looked at you when you walked in, and said nothing as you left to retreat back upstairs.

The book you were reading, while good, wasn't doing a very good job of distracting you. In fact, the longer you sat, the more your frustration brewed.

You really didn't feel like you deserved for her to be upset with you. You had been trying to avoid this, a fight, a confrontation. But you weren't sure how to move past this until you two talked.

A little after noon, you again ventured downstairs, determined to get some food and speak to Mor. You planned to tell her how you felt undeserving of her disappointment, how you felt like it was unfair that she was upset with you for giving her what she seemingly wanted.

She was absent from the kitchen, and eventually, you found her in her office, leafing through paperwork at her desk. You could tell she was trying to busy herself, as just days ago, she had told you the paperwork was mindless, formality bullshit from court to court.

Leaning against the doorway, you ask her, "Would you like some lunch? I think I'm going to make a sandwich, or maybe a salad?"

Mor didn't look up from her work. "No, thanks," she mumbled under her breath, paying you no attention.

"Mor, look at me," you said, calm and with a balanced tone.

She sighed, refusing to meet your gaze, keeping her attention secured on the papers in front of her. "I'm not hungry, Y/N, I'll figure something out later." She briefly waved her hand in the air, like she was shooing you away.

You roll your eyes, the desire for a conversation gone at the annoyance in her tone. You turn to walk away, but you can't help yourself from saying, "Alone, I'm sure, as you've made it abundantly clear that you prefer."

You're hardly a few steps down the hallway before you hear Mor call, "What did you say?" The sound of her chair screeching backward as she rises fills the silence, but you're still walking away. You knew having a calm, collected talk about this wasn't going to happen after she acted so unconcerned with your presence.

You hear her footsteps enter the hallway, too, Mor trailing right behind you.

"Y/n, what did you just say?"

And, because you're beginning to grow a bit bitter about this whole situation, you say, "Figure it out later."

Her footsteps grow faster, and as you turn the corner to enter the kitchen, she grabs your wrist and whirls you around.

"Are you serious right now?" Her tone is sharp, her jaw clenched, her beautiful face painted with anger.

You laugh, once and humorless. "Am I serious? Are you serious, Mor? Acting so cold to me today," your voice grows sharper the more you think about it, "all because you're locked in this damn house with me!"

Mor's brows scrunch, a mixture of anger and confusion. "Excuse me?! You're the one who didn't want to go outside with me this morning! You're the one who avoided me last night, going to bed early and staying as far away from me as you could!"

You pull your arm out of her grasp, pointing at her, "I never said I didn't want to go outside with you! You're the one who said she didn't feel like going anymore!"

Mor turns, scoffing and throwing her hands in the air like she can't believe what's happening. "Why would I after you had just implied like going outside together was like, the worst possible thing that could happen to you!"

You stare at her for a moment, mouth open and eyes wide. "You're making stuff up at this point! I never did that! I was just thinking about you. Cauldron forbid I care about what you want, Mor!"

You shake your head, your heart is hammering and you're starting to feel the uncomfortable sensation of tears gathering in your eyes and a lump forming in your throat.

When you turn to walk away, before it gets any worse, Mor grabs you again.

"Don't walk away from me! What in the gods name are you even talking about? You seriously think work is all I care about? You know me better than that." She sounds hurt, and angry, but you can't imagine she feels those things anywhere near the same degree as you do.

You sigh, losing the edge to your voice, a tear finally leaking from one of your eyes. "No, Mor, I don't think that. But I do know that being with me, living with me, isn't what you thought it would be. I wanted to save you from that today, that's all."

She stops dead in her tracks, her pacing coming to an abrupt end as she stares at you like she doesn't even recognize you. "What are you even saying, Y/N? Do you even hear yourself?"

"I gave you space last night, and I tried to this morning, so I wasn't too clingy for you," you put emphasis on that word like it was damning you. "But all it did was make you bitter towards me today, Mor. So I'm not sure what else I can do."

Again, she stares at you like she has no idea what's going on. And then, you see it click. Her features slowly grow from angry to sad, and she closes her eyes, tilting her head down. She looks ashamed, like she wishes she hadn't been caught.

A few more tears run down your face, and you swipe them away with your fingers, trying to calm your shaking hands.

"I didn't want to fight about this, Mor, I never did. I heard something I wasn't supposed to. I can't change how you feel, but I can change how I act. Can we just leave this alone? I won't be as clingy, but I need you to stop treating me like I've done something wrong." Your voice is hardly a whisper, and you're turning to leave the foyer you've been having this confrontation in before, for the third time, Mor grabs your wrist to prevent you from leaving.

You don't look at her as she says, "Baby, I am so, so, so sorry," her voice cracks, and the sound of her so upset breaks your heart, despite her being the reason yours has been broken since the night before. "Please, Y/N. let me explain."

You shake your head, pulling your arm away, but she doesn't let go. "There's nothing to explain, Mor. I heard you clearly last night. As much as I wish you had spoken to me about this, rather than embarrass me in front of our friends, what's done is done. You can't change how you feel."

Just as you said to her, moments before, Mor asks, "Y/N, please look at me."

You pull your watery eyes to hers, and truly, she looks devastated.

"That's not how I feel, Y/N."

You smile softly at her, putting your hand on top of the one holding your arm. You push her grasp away, saying, "Mor, of course you do. I'm suffocating, I see that now. I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, bu-"

Mor's cutting you off before you finish. "No! Y/N, I mean it. I do not think you're clingy, I was an idiot to say that."

Before she can continue, you stop her with a hand raised. "Mor, seriously, this is just making it worse. We can figure out how to make this relationship work better, later. I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Finally releasing yourself from the hold she's had on you, you make your way into the kitchen.

And, of course, your stubborn mate follows you. She watches as you pull supplies from the fridge, meat and cheese and lettuce and other things required for a sandwich.

You spot her chewing on her thumbnail, her newly painted nail, as she watches you.

You sigh as you pull the bread from the cupboard. "Do you want a sandwich, Mor?"

"I want to talk, Y/N. I want to explain, I want to make this right. Please, baby, let me explain." Her voice is pleading, and she sounds close to the tears you were in just moments ago.

You slam two slices of bread onto a plate more forcefully than necessary. "I said I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please, Mor. Enough."

She seems to understand how serious you are, and she doesn't push you any further. She sits at the table as you prepare your lunch, and because you love her very much, and you know she hasn't eaten, you fix her one, too.

---

The day moves slowly, the two of you sticking to doing your own things. You find that the day is easier now that she knows what you know, that it's easier to breathe knowing you've said what you needed to say.

Mor hovers around you, but she doesn't push you to speak anymore. When you leave to sit by the fire in the living room, she moves to the couch with a book in hand. When you decide to work on clearing your front porch of snow, she joins you, shovel in hand and wordless. When you take a hot bath after, she waits in the bedroom, tidying until you're done. When dinner comes around, it's her that makes you a meal, and you nod your head in thanks, the two of you eating her stew in silence.

Long after the sun has gone down, you're in your bedroom, pulling a sweatshirt, matching to your sweatpants, over your head.

The door creaks open, and Mor walks in, both your book and hers in hand. Her face still looks devastated, you've been enduring the radiating guilt, shame, sadness, and disappointment from the bond all day. The only thing stopping you from kissing the hurt from her face is your own hurt, still aching, but a little less raw.

Mor sets the books down on her bedside table, and you can tell she's not going to let the two of you sleep tonight unless she's said her piece.

As much as you'd rather forget about this day, you know that tensions will only grow if you don't allow her to say whatever it is she wants to say, whatever it is she thinks will make this better.

You pull the covers back, settling on the bed. "Can you hand me my book, Mor?"

"Y/N..." Her voice is quiet. She's still standing, like she's afraid that if she gets too close, you'll run away.

You sigh, looking her in the eyes. You're surprised to see them welling with tears, her bottom lip trembling.

Your face scrunches, and you reach a hand out to her. "Mor, don't cry..." Your voice trails off, confusion lacing your tone.

She crumbles at your outstretched hand, like the acceptance is something she thought she'd lost forever. Like she's relieved that you still want her.

She collapses onto the bed, grabbing your hand, crying in earnest now. "I-I'm so sorry, Y/N, I swear to the gods I d-didn't mean what I s-s-said."

You can hardly understand her, and you run a hand through her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

"Mor, please, you don't have to explain yourself... I just want to move on from this."

That makes her cry harder, she's burying her face in your shoulder, shaking her head in refusal. "No! I d-don't want to move on from this, I want to make it r-right," she hiccups on a sob before continuing, "if you'll let me, p-please."

You sigh, kissing her hairline, urging her to pull back and look at you. "Honestly, Mor, I think it'll just hurt worse if you explain why I'm too clingy. I wish you'd just let us change how this," you gesture between the two of you, "works. No hard feelings that way, really."

Mor's face grows frustrated, her tears spilling down her cheeks rapidly. She sniffles, and grits out, "No. I-I don't want anything to c-change!"

"Mor, reall-"

She cuts you off before you can go on. "Y/N, p-please, just listen to me right now. I know I don't d-deserve it, b-but..."

Seeing her so upset, hearing the heartbreak in her voice, the sight of her red and puffy face from crying so hard, it makes you give in. You nod, signaling to her that she can continue, that you'll listen and you'll try to understand.

You brace yourself for the hurt, for her to explain how she feels suffocated by you, that you're too overbearing, just too clingy. You're ready for her to tell you that she loves you, because you know that she does, but that she just needs some space.

She doesn't, though.

She takes a deep breath in, bringing her hands up to rub at her wet cheeks, closing her eyes and collecting herself for a moment.

"Y/N, I-I have no excuse, for talking about you that way, in front of our friends."

She opens her eyes and looks deep into yours, waiting to see if you're going to stop her. When you make no move to interrupt, she continues.

"I... I am not good at this," she gestures between the both of you, then takes your hand into her own. "I'm not good at... being someone's mate."

You go to stop her, to scold her for thinking that way. She's perfect, the two of you literally made for one another. You'd not change a thing about her, and so far, your relationship had been virtually perfect. But, you swore to listen, so you refrain from stopping her.

"I never thought I'd meet my mate, and... for it to be a woman..." she trails off, and she doesn't have to elaborate on what she means by that. While your friends, your family, have been nothing but accepting and supportive, the same cannot be said for the rest of the world. Generally, Velaris, the Night Court, is open-minded, unfazed by any sort of queerness. And she decided, the moment she met you, she was done hiding her affections for women. She would not hide her mate, both you and her deserved better. But, Mor has seen the worst of other courts, of other people. She's seen terrible things happen to people for not being able to control who they love. She has always, always, been so protective of you, of the relationship the two of you have. It's made her guarded. Even around people she loves and trusts, she finds it difficult to be open and honest about the relationship the two of you have. She's opted for privacy in order to ensure protection. You know that, and it has never bothered you, because of course, you understand it.

"I am still... figuring this all out. How to navigate this, how to be more happy than scared." She pulls your hand to her mouth, pressing a kiss to your soft skin. You smile softly at her, and cup her face, stroking her cheek with your thumb, soothing the still reddened skin despite the tears being nearly gone.

She leans into the touch, and again, she takes a deep inhale, like she's in need of being grounded.

"When they asked me today, how things are going... I-I just... I couldn't be honest." Her voice cracks at the end, and you dread having to see her beautiful face in tears again.

"Y/N, I swear to you, everything is perfect."

"Mor..." you sigh, worried she's just trying to make you feel better about all of this, worried she isn't really thinking of what would make her happier.

"No, Y/N, I mean it. Everything about you, about us... it's perfect," she moves to hold your hand to her face with both of hers, turning to press a kiss into your palm.

"I know it shouldn't, because they're our friends, our family... but it made me uncomfortable, the idea of gushing to them about us."

You give her a curious look, but you say nothing.

"It feels like, if anyone knows how perfect this is, how happy we are... someone will rip it away from us, from me."

And that, that breaks your heart. "Oh, Mor..." you coo, sitting up straighter, holding her face in both of your hands now.

"I really, really, really, have no excuse for what I said. You are not too clingy, Y/N. In fact, I sometimes wish we could be even closer."

You huff a small laugh at that, shaking your head and smiling. "Mor, it's okay, really."

She refuses to let you forgive her so easily, though. "It's not okay, baby. You're my mate, you're it for me. The only thing I'll ever want in life. I don't want to hide that, especially not from our friends. You deserve to be spoken about in truth, about how amazing you are, how easy it is to love you, how I miss you every second we aren't together."

It's your turn to tear up now, and you send a flood of love and adoration down the bond.

"I lied to them, because acting like everything isn't perfect was easier than feeling vulnerable. I treated you terribly, and in front of our friends, too... I am so, so sorry, baby."

You feel nothing but love and sincerity from the bond, no sign that she's lying, that she's just saying this to spare your feelings. You believe her, of course. She's poured her heart out to you, she's chosen uncomfortable vulnerability in order to make sure you know how loved you are.

Hearing what she said about you, knowing she said it to your friends too, it hurt. But, you know she's learned from this. You know that she truly feels terrible, and you now know that she thinks your relationship is just as incredible as you do. You hold no anger anymore, and the only thing left to make you sad is how upset your mate still looks.

"Mor, my love, I forgive you, it's alright." You learn forward, until your forehead is resting on hers. Her eyes flutter shut, and she releases a breath she was holding.

"You do?" She whispers.

You kiss her gently in response. "Mor, I forgave you a while ago. I wasn't angry so much as I was hurt."

She grimaces, knowing how badly she hurt you, but you soothe her with another peck to her lips.

"I understand, Mor. I do. I hope that next time, though, you'll just be honest," she nods against you, a promise to do right by you. "Or, if you cannot, I hope that you'll choose to hold off on answering, until you can talk about us."

"Of course, my love, this will never happen again."

You hum, plant a kiss to her forehead, and pull away. "I know it won't, sweetheart. Thank you, for being honest, and for apologizing."

A few seconds pass in comfortable silence, the two of you just enjoying the feeling of being close again.

Then, Mor speaks. "So.... you'll greet me at the door when I come in?" She asks.

"I will, every day, with a kiss." You emphasize your answer with kisses to her cheek, her nose, her lips.

She giggles and pulls away. "And you'll let me help with dinner? And you'll tell me about your day while we eat?"

"Yes, baby."

"And you'll stay up late and cuddle on the couch with me?"

"Hmm, what if I get tired?" You tease.

She pouts at you, but it's in jest. "You'll lay on my chest, and I'll wake you up when it's time to go to bed."

"I suppose that'll work..." a smirk is evident in your voice, and Mor kisses it quickly.

"And you'll cuddle with me in bed, all night?"

"All night."

"And you'll spend snow days outside with me? And take hot baths with me after?"

"I'd love nothing more."

"And you'll always talk to me, if I've done something to upset you? You'll always tell me how you're feeling?"

"I will, Mor, I promise."

She smiles, and wraps her arms around you. She pulls you down to the bed with her, and you nuzzle your face into her neck, planting a kiss to her warm skin. She tugs on your bond, teasing and gentle. A feeling settles over the both of you. It's warm and sweet, the distinct feeling that all is well.

---

A/N: This ended up being way longer than I meant it to be! I hope you all enjoy, angst isn't my usual but I wanted to give it a try. And of course, requests are always welcome! :)

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hrizantemy · 7 months ago

Text

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW

Nesta lay in bed, her body feeling heavier than ever, as though the weight of the world had pressed her into the mattress. Days had passed, blending together in a haze of muffled sounds and dim light filtering through the drawn curtains. The silence was her only companion, punctuated occasionally by the faint echoes of life happening beyond her door.

She turned her head slowly to the side, her eyes landing on the figure beside her. The girl, who had kept her company through these endless days, was tangled in the sheets, her body a mess of graceful disarray. Her wild hair fanned out across the pillow, an auburn halo that framed her sleeping face. There was a serene innocence to her features, softened by the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Half of the blanket had slipped to the floor, leaving her exposed to the cool air, yet she remained blissfully undisturbed.

Nesta’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in the contrast between her own turmoil and the girl’s peaceful slumber. She marveled at how someone could sleep so soundly, so untroubled, when the world outside felt so relentlessly unforgiving. The girl had stayed with her, never once complaining, through every bleak hour and dark thought that threatened to consume Nesta entirely.

A sense of gratitude, rare and fleeting, flickered within Nesta. This girl, with her messy hair and calm presence, was a lifeline in the storm that raged inside her. Nesta reached out, a tentative movement, and gently pulled the blanket back over the girl’s shoulders, tucking it around her with a care that surprised even herself. She sighed softly, her hand lingering for a moment on the warmth of the girl’s arm, before retreating back to her own space.

With a measured breath, Nesta began to ease herself out of bed, careful not to disturb the girl sleeping beside her. She moved slowly, her limbs stiff from the days spent in stillness. Her movements were deliberate, as if she were performing a ritual she had repeated countless times before. She had, in fact, done this so many times that she had memorized the positions of every creaky floorboard in the room.

As she shifted her weight to her feet, the bed barely stirred, the girl’s breathing continuing undisturbed. Nesta glanced down at the tangle of sheets, ensuring they were arranged in a way that wouldn’t rouse the girl. The moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a silver glow on the scene, adding to the hushed tranquility of the moment.

Her bare feet met the floor with practiced precision. She stepped lightly, each move calculated to avoid the well-known creaks and groans of the old wooden boards. One step, then another, she navigated the room with the skill of someone who had lived within these confines for a lifetime. Her eyes remained fixed on the path ahead, her mind tracing the map of safe spots she had etched into her memory.

Nesta paused near the door, casting one last look back at the girl. Her companion lay undisturbed, the blanket now snugly covering her, rising and falling with her steady breaths. There was something almost sacred about the peacefulness that surrounded her, a stark contrast to the turbulence Nesta felt inside.

She let out a slow, silent exhale and turned back to the door, her hand hovering over the handle. The metal felt cool against her fingertips as she turned it with care, pulling the door open just enough to slip through without making a sound. Once in the hallway, she closed it just as gently, sealing the quiet sanctuary of the room behind her.

It was early morning, though the sky remained a deep, velvety black, with only the faintest hint of dawn on the horizon. The house was shrouded in silence, the world outside still asleep. Nesta moved quietly through the dimly lit kitchen, the familiarity of her surroundings providing a small measure of comfort. This had become her ritual, a semblance of routine amidst the chaos that plagued her mind.

She set a kettle on the stove, the soft hiss of gas igniting beneath it breaking the silence. As she waited for the water to boil, Nesta gathered her tea leaves with methodical precision, each motion deliberate and careful. The ritual of making tea was grounding, a series of small, manageable tasks that brought her a brief respite from the constant turmoil within her.

The kettle whistled softly, and she poured the steaming water over the leaves, watching as the rich, amber liquid swirled and settled in the cup. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, savoring the heat against her cold fingers. The steam rose, carrying with it the faint, soothing scent of the tea, and Nesta breathed it in deeply, hoping to calm the storm inside her.

She carried her cup to the small table by the window, settling into a chair that had become her sanctuary in these quiet, solitary hours. She never really slept anymore. Instead, she remained awake, her mind too restless for the comfort of dreams. Occasionally, she would lose herself in a book, finding temporary escape within its pages. More often, though, she simply sat, sipping her tea and letting the silence envelop her.

In her darker moments, she had turned to stronger substances, seeking oblivion in a bottle. But she had been trying to do less of that, less of a lot of things. It was a struggle, a constant battle against the urge to numb herself, to escape the weight of her thoughts. Tonight, though, she had managed to resist, choosing tea over spirits, and for that, she felt a small measure of pride.

Nesta supposed she should have been more concerned about the girl currently occupying her space, but her mind had been too clouded to care when it all began. She had met the girl at a tavern, one of the many dimly lit, smoky places she frequented when the nights grew too long and the silence too suffocating. The memory of their meeting was hazy at best—admittedly, she had been blacked out for most of it.

Imagine Nesta's surprise when she came to, not in the tavern or some unfamiliar bed, but hunched over her own toilet, retching with a ferocity that left her trembling. And there, holding back her hair with a gentle but firm hand, was the girl. Nesta had been too busy expelling the contents of her stomach to question it, the whole scene surreal in her muddled state. When she finally managed to lift her head, weak and disoriented, the girl had assured her that nothing had happened while she had been drunk.

At first, Nesta had taken those words at face value, too exhausted to probe deeper. But the girl had stayed, even after the sickness had passed and the daylight had broken. She had stayed, helping Nesta to bed, bringing her water, and simply sitting with her through the worst of it. It was a strange thing, to have someone care without expecting anything in return. Strange, but not unwelcome.

Over time, the girl’s presence became a fixture in Nesta's life, and the initial surprise gave way to a reluctant acceptance. Perhaps Nesta needed something—someone—to fill the void that alcohol no longer could. The girl obliged, not just with her company, but with a quiet understanding that spoke volumes in the spaces between words. There were nights when Nesta couldn’t bear to be alone, and the girl was there, a silent companion in the darkness.

It wasn’t long before Nesta realized that she wasn’t the only one seeking solace. The girl, too, seemed to be using Nesta, perhaps for the same reason. They were both lost, two broken souls clinging to each other in the hopes of finding some semblance of meaning. There were no promises, no expectations, just a mutual understanding that sometimes, the presence of another was enough to stave off the darkness.

Nesta didn’t deny that she and the girl had been physical with each other. In those dark, quiet moments when the night seemed to stretch on forever, they had found solace in each other’s arms. It had started almost accidentally, a desperate, shared need for warmth and connection that transcended words. Nesta had never thought much about what it meant, and she didn’t think the girl did either.

Their encounters were not marked by grand declarations or promises. There were no whispered confessions or plans for the future. Instead, they simply fell into a rhythm, a natural progression of their shared existence. In the evenings, they would sit together, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking about nothing of consequence. When the nights grew too cold or the loneliness too sharp, they would find comfort in the closeness of their bodies.

Nesta found that she didn’t need to analyze it, to label what they were or what they were doing. It was a rare thing for her, to let something be without dissecting it, without trying to control or define it. But with this girl, it felt natural. They continued like normal, their days marked by an unspoken understanding that extended beyond the physical. They both needed this, and that was enough.

The girl never pressed for more, never asked for anything Nesta wasn’t willing to give. In return, Nesta offered her what she could—companionship, a shared space, and those moments of physical intimacy that kept the encroaching emptiness at bay. They didn’t talk about what it meant because it didn’t need to be talked about. It simply was.

And so they continued, falling into an easy, unhurried routine. The girl would wake before Nesta, making tea or sometimes breakfast, and Nesta would find her in the kitchen, a silent, steadfast presence. They would spend the days as they always did, each finding small ways to fill the hours. When night fell, they returned to each other, drawn by a mutual understanding that neither could put into words.

The quiet creaking of floorboards, certainly not as discreet as her own careful steps, pulled Nesta out of her thoughts. She glanced up, just in time to see the door opening slowly, revealing the girl. The sheets hung haphazardly around her, barely covering her as she made her way to the kitchen. Nesta watched silently, her gaze following the girl’s every movement.

The girl went about making herself a cup of tea, the clinking of the kettle and the rustle of tea leaves the only sounds in the stillness. She moved with a sleepy grace, as if the weight of sleep still clung to her. Nesta said nothing, and the girl, too, remained silent. Their unspoken understanding filled the space between them.

The girl joined Nesta at the table, sitting across from her with her tea. She seemed engrossed in the simple act of drinking, her eyes occasionally drifting to the window. The world outside was still dark, with only the faintest promise of dawn on the horizon. Nesta, book in hand, resumed her reading, though her attention was divided.

The girl’s presence was a quiet comfort, a steadying force amidst the turmoil of Nesta’s thoughts. She sipped her tea slowly, her fingers curled around the warm cup, her eyes reflecting the dim light. The sheets had slipped further, but she made no move to adjust them, seemingly content in her casual disarray.

Nesta turned a page, the soft rustle blending with the girl's occasional sips. There was no need for words between them; their silence was filled with understanding. The girl looked out the window again, her expression contemplative, and Nesta wondered what thoughts occupied her mind. But for Nesta, this was enough. She continued to read, letting the rhythm of their shared silence settle over her like a comforting blanket.

#sapphic nesta #no one asked but you still get this anyway congratulations #might be a series honestly #anti acotar #anti acosf #anti inner circle #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti cassian #anti azriel #anti amren #anti morrigan #anti nessian #pro nesta #nesta archeron deserves better #let my girl live #I accidentally tagged wrong so I fixed it

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