#what do you do when your twin flame is an idiot

[joshus-lobster]

Me giving an entire crash course ted talk on the dating history of The Arctic Monkeys and Miles Kane plus rumors and speculation and related drama to my poor roommate.

[theeoriginals]

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does. 

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as. 

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah. 

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it. 

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.” 

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,” 

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,” 

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.” 

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,” 

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.” 

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.” 

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace. 

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly. 

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,” 

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.” 

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief. 

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.” 

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos. 

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet. 

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him. 

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday. 

Regrets a lot of things, too. 

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone. 

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second. 

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?” 

────── 

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to. 

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy. 

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it. 

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly. 

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times. 

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow. 

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake. 

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse. 

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins. 

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped. 

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows. 

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity. 

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him. 

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal. 

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too. 

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place. 

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

It’s embarrassing more than anything else. 

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case. 

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water. 

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit. 

────── 

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.” 

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it. 

“What about you?” 

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?” 

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. 

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.” 

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,” 

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?” 

“You,” 

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth. 

“Me? What about me?” 

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–” 

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t. 

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?” 

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat. 

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him. 

He rears back like she’s slapped him. 

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really. 

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.” 

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking. 

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve. 

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–” 

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her. 

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.” 

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,” 

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,” 

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” 

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him. 

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?” 

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” 

“Forever,” 

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.” 

[tsumtsumrry]

Friends to lovers Harry styles? I was thinking Harry and the reader have been best friends for years with cute traditions like coffee on certain days or book clubs. Overall they know each other inside out and spend a lot of time together. There’s some tension bc harry is very obviously in love with the reader however she’s the only one who doesn’t see it. Despite the fact she feels the same she’s scared because she doesn’t believe he could feels the same. Maybe it could get a little angsty but with a happy ending pls! Thank you!

thank you very much for the request!! anyone who knows me knows that friends to lovers is my jam, so this was very very fun to write. hope you enjoy <3 (barely proofread so sorry in advance for any mistakes!)

“Well have you tried unplugging it and plugging it back in?” Harry suggests as you two sit inside the pillow fort you made, two glasses of wine sitting next to your knees and the sight of your small TV bugging out in front of you. 

You pout at your dilemma. It’s been a tradition since you two were kids to have a little quiet movie night in a cozy pillow fort. It’s not the first time your TV has been acting up recently and Harry keeps offering to buy you a new one but you always refuse. He’s too giving, that one. But god, do you admire him for it. 

“Tried that before you came, H. S’no use. Time for plan B.” you sigh at go to get up carefully to go retrieve your computer and a stool from your room.

Harry watches you with fond eyes as you go, the sparkle in his eyes that only appears when he’s looking at you evident (to everyone but you, that is). He’s almost a hundred percent sure you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, the hue of your eyes melts him, the brightness of your smile blinds him. You have the softest, most soothing aura he’s ever come across and he just wants to be with you all the time. He’s smiling like an idiot just thinking about you.

“Got the computer. What are we watching?” he jumps a little, startled out of his thoughts when you walk back into your cozy living room. He watches you intently as you calculatedly place the stool in front of the fort and the computer on top of it. He smiles fondly at you when you adjust it at least five times because “it has to be perfect” and opens his mouth to answer your question, “what are we watching?” 

You carefully sit right back down next to him and after a small beat of silence you both turn to look at each other at exactly the same time and simultaneously blurt out, “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days!” 

“Twin flame telepathy back at it again.” he pumps his fist in the air and pulls it back while you giggle. 

It doesn’t take long to set up the movie and before you know it, you’re halfway through it, cuddled up into Harry’s side with his arm snug tightly around you. You occasionally look up at him when you see something funny to see if he found it funny too, and he does the same, causing an intense bout of eye contact and laughter. 

The warm hues of your fairy lights kiss his skin in a way that makes him almost glow with warmth, the green of his eyes is so intense in this light, it almost takes your breath away. Sometimes you wish time would stop so he could be as still as he is in this moment, and you could just look at him. Just admire how truly beautiful he is. The way his eyelashes flutter when he takes in the brightness of the images forms a small knot in your stomach. You feel your mouth part and it’s only when he looks down at you that you realize your staring might feel a little weird. 

“What?” you watch his mouth form the softly spoken word. You don’t say anything so he smiles and tries again, “what?” 

“Nothing, just daydreaming.” you reply softly with a small smile. 

“Watch the movie, dude.” he scolds you playfully and you roll your eyes. 

“Sir, yes sir.” 

“So you think waffles are better than pancakes?” Harry asks one of your mutual friends, Jess incredulously. Jess nods and Harry’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. “Are you kidding me? Pancakes are infinitely better than waffles. Who wants their breakfast to have craters in them, Jess? I mean c’mon. Tell them, babe. Pancakes are better.” He motions to you and your eyes widen, not wanting to get in between what is clearly such an important, heated discussion. 

“Pancakes.” you finalize with a small laugh. Harry smacks his hand on the table in triumph and points at Jess, who rolls their eyes at his antics. “S’two against one. Can’t beat that. Them’s the rules, toots.” 

You’re in a fit of giggles at this point, you’ve always loved the way he talked. He had this dry humor that utilized his unique vocabulary and it never failed to amuse you. 

He turns to look at you, scooting closer and slinging his arm around your shoulder. “Can always count on you can’t I, honey?” he smirks and shrugs you closer to him to press a messy kiss on the side of your head. 

You shudder violently and your hand immediately shoots up to wipe at your head, “ew, Harry!” you whine and he throws his head back to laugh. 

Everyone is just staring at the two of you fondly, your bond is something unmatched. The pure passion that you two display when you look at each other is unlike anything most of your friends have seen before. Everyone can see the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at you. It’s lost on them how you can’t. They just wish you two would finally man up and come to terms with it. 

He leans down way too close to your ear, his lips oh so faintly brushing against your skin, the laughter ceases almost immediately and it feels like time just stops. 

“You know you love me, sweet girl.” 

It takes everything in you not to let your body melt into his and flutter your eyes shut at the closeness and warmth of his touch. Even the faintest touch makes you nearly lose yourself, you can’t imagine what a real touch would do to you. 

You pull yourself together enough to respond, “yes, yes unfortunately I do. Freaking man child.” 

He laughs again and just hugs you closer. 

H: Sweetheaaart. Where could you possibly be other than with me? 

H: That rhymed. 

H: Gonna pretend that it was intentional.

You: Lol you’ve got the wrong day, H. We’re meeting tomorrow x 

H: Yes but I still would looovee to see you today. 

You: I’ve got plaaans. 

H: Spill. 

Harry bites his lip nervously as he sends the message. He’s been talking to some mutual friends of yours and they’ve had the bright idea to set you up with someone this week. They’ve been trying to push Harry to make a move on you for years and he hasn’t. Your friends say you’ve been complaining about feeling lonely in the romantic department and of course they took it upon themselves to “help”. 

He hoped that if he sought out plans with you, you’d forget about whatever silly “date” they’ve asked you to go on. 

You: A date I think. Can I call it a date? 

He sighs deeply, his whole body deflating.

H: Why wouldn’t you call it a date? 

You: I don’t know the guy and it just doesn’t feel right you know?” 

Immediately you see his face flash on your screen and feel the phone vibrating in your hands. Your brow furrows but you press the accept button and bring the phone up to your ear. 

“Don’t go.” is the first thing he says, his tone almost pleading. “If it doesn’t feel right, don’t go. You can come over to mine, we can do face masks or something. Just don’t go.” 

You sigh, seriously considering his offer, “but don’t you think I owe to myself, H? I feel like I never put myself out there you know. It’s time I’ve tried. Can’t wait around forever.” You mumble that last part, slightly turning your mouth away from the speaker. 

“What? N-nevermind. You said it didn’t feel right though.” he tries again, praying that a little coaxing can get you to not go on that date. He swears he’ll confess his feelings to you right now if that’s what it takes. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if that date goes well and someone pulls the girl he’s so enamored with right from under him. He knows that if you start seeing someone things will be different, and you might tell him that they won’t be at first, but he knows they will. He absolutely cannot lose you. That’s one thing he refuses to do. Regardless of his fears. 

“Doesn’t hurt to try, right?” You almost wish he would tell you not to go again. You so desperately wish he would tell you what you want to hear. At no point before this phone call did you plan or think about making him jealous or upset at the idea of you seeing someone else, but the tortured thought is crossing your mind now. And you just wish that he’d say what you need to hear to get you to not go on that date. Your nails are digging into your palms as you anticipate his response, the tension building in your muscles. 

His mouth opens and closes. He has all the words in his head, but they hesitate to come out. 

A beat passes. 

You hear him sigh and you know he’s not going to tell you what you need to hear. 

So so close. He was so close to saying everything that needed to be out in the open for both of you, but he chickened out. 

“Right. Go for it, babe. Hope all goes well.” he forces a cheerful tone, one that he even cringes at, and usually, you know him better than that, but the tears are pooling in your eyes and threatening to fall down your cheeks; you don’t want to mess up the makeup that you’ve just done. 

“Thanks, H.” Your voice wobbles the slightest bit. Usually he knows you better, but the tears are pooling and threatening to fall down his cheeks. He presses his fingers into his palm and hangs up. 

He just stands there for a moment, a lone tear falls down his face and he immediately wipes it away, you’re too pure and precious to be the reason for his pain. He wishes he could just tell you. 

He’s been dodging you. 

You basically know his entire schedule, and you know that he’s been dodging you. 

You sigh softly as another call goes unanswered. Your heart is aching from missing your twin flame. 

The date went well, surprisingly. The guy was kind and thoughtful, he pulled your chair out for you and said all the right things, he was a great conversationalist, he was attractive. He basically checked all the boxes. Except for one. He wasn’t Harry. And you weren’t deeply in love with him. You should’ve listened to Harry that night, honestly. There’s only one person you want to be with.

You almost want to turn around after you knock on his door. You felt stupid, like you were coming here to make a fool of yourself. 

The door swings open and you sigh a breath of relief.

“Harry.” you sigh, “I’ve been trying to reach you for days.” 

He nods and opens the door wider to let you in. Your arms wrap around yourself protectively in a way that they never have around him when you step inside. He notices instantly. 

That’s his breaking point. The idea that that comfort you feel in each other is being challenged by his inability to just tell you how he feels. 

He walks towards you slowly. When he’s in front of you, his hand reaches up to touch your cheek softly and you frown in confusion, “why have you been avoiding me?” you whisper, not trusting your voice when he’s touching you. 

He shakes his head, “I’ve been avoiding a lot of things, you weren’t one of them, though.” 

Your frown deepens even more, “H. What in the world are you talk—” when you realize how close he’s suddenly become, your talking ceases. He leans in further, faintly brushing his lips against yours, using his grip on your cheek to angle you in the perfect way. 

“I’ve been avoiding my feelings. My feelings for you. These intense feelings that have been just utterly consuming me lately. These feelings that I think have been there since we were kids. It’s always, always been you, babe.” he leans down one more inch, and his lips are on yours.

Soft and delicate, but so full of passion that it overwhelms you. 

He kisses you softly again, first your top lip and then your bottom lip, then leaves one more soft peck on both. 

When you pull away you’re at a loss for words. You take this moment to look at him. To really look at him and just admire. A smile makes its way onto your face that you couldn’t have possibly fought even if you tried. 

“What?” he chuckles softly, stroking his thumb against your cheek and lips. 

“Nothing you just, you have this sparkle in your eyes that I’ve never noticed before. It’s beautiful.” Neither of you can stop your lips  from meeting again.

[violettduchess]

A/N: An entry for my super neglected but not forgotten Afterglow series.

Chevalier x Reader

WC: 500

The starlight behind your eyelids begins to fade. Breathing in deeply, you feel the way your wild pulse slows, the red frenzy of passion dissolving into the blushing pink of contentment. You become aware of the soft pillow behind your head, the weight of the blankets that he is now carefully pulling over your naked body to keep the chill away. The back of his knuckles brush your hips and you marvel at how just a few heartbeats ago, those strong hands were holding you there, gripping you like a lifeline. 

The only light in the room is the soft silver glow of the full moon. Not enough for him to be sure by sight alone. He reaches for you, pulls you close against him, the motion almost awkward in its haste. His hand slowly begins wandering the lines of your body, making sure not to disturb the blankets. It takes you a moment to understand what he is doing. His touch is cool and calculated, a sharp contrast to the sparkling paths of heat his fingers had not long ago been blazing across your skin.

“I’m fine,” you finally say, your hand resting on his chest, your head tilted upward to look at him in the pale moonlight. “Really.” Your voice is gentle but assured. He did not hurt you in his eagerness or the ferocity of his need. 

You’re not a fragile blossom easily torn apart by a storm. You can stand in the hurricane of his desire and meet it, head on. With a smile.

Chevalier’s hand stops on your lower back and remains there, his palm pressed against your skin. There is something shockingly intimate about being touched just there. And something so casually possessive in the gesture as well. Another hand may touch you here above your clothing, perhaps while dancing, perhaps while helping you navigate your way. But no other hand but his will ever touch here beneath it.

“Sleep.” His voice is low and quiet. The word may be a command but when he speaks to you, it feels round, soft, gentle. A tone that you and only you can bring out of him, a certain warmth that creeps into his language. A warmth born of the steady fire that you have kindled in his heart, twin flames of his affection and love for you and all that you are to him.

You sigh, a sound that reminds him of the flutter of a nightingale’s wings, and then lay your head against his strong shoulder. His scent surrounds you, crisp and comforting all at once. 

This is peace. This is home. This is all you will ever need.

It’s only when you’re standing on the ocean’s edge of slumber, about to plunge under the waves of dreaming that you feel him shift. A moment later, your forehead is anointed with a kiss, off-center and quick, but a kiss all the same.

He is at peace. He is home. You are all he will ever need.

When sleep pulls you under, you’re smiling.

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@whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @ozalysss

[books-and-catears]

Unravelling Solomon

(many spoilers for chap 11)

Some personal theories and trying to look at the story from Solomon's lens.

Let's state some canon things we have noticed in the story of both Obey me and Nightbringer.

MC is Solomon's one true soulmate/twin flame

Solomon took an instant liking to MC in the very beginning, calling it mere curiousity.

- I think he sensed a Kindred soul. Just like Thirteen says we both seem like 'cheerful idiots' at the very first glance. Wouldn't Solomon would be even quicker to detect a soul similar to his own?

Thirteen claims our soul sparkles the same way Solomon's used to, it still does the same but just a little different.

- Solomon has gone through some unspeakable trauma damaging his soul to that level. And he's hyper protective that MC doesn't go through the same.

Solomon's card: Threads of Fate. MC's first red string was connected to Solomon.

- Okay, this might be a big stretch but hear me out. We all know Solomon's magic is strong and mostly accurate even in its most experimental stage.

So when his powder of revealing soulmates ended up showing all of MC's bonds - it inadvertently showed the strongest first. The strongest bond between two most similar souls.

....

Solomon's Obsession with Lucifer's Pact

Do you know who has consistently been a direct threat of MC's survival?

From the first dance, as he threatened MC while almost snapping their wrist in half to his most recent attempt on MC's life in the past - it has been Lucifer.

The Lucifer who would rather use his powers and hurt his own brother and an innocent angel just to exact his justice on a meddlesome human (cue the scene where MC protects Beel and Luke).

The Lucifer who doesn't hesitate to lose his head and attempt to destroy MC even though he noted how MC has been slowly and surely healing his brothers.

The same Lucifer who even now, tries to eliminate you as a threat even as his own brothers vouch for your integrity and you try to prove your good intentions.

Solomon watches helplessly as you constantly throw yourself at the mercy of this fallen angel.

In season 2, Solomon legit states that he would have stabbed Lucifer to save the three realms himself if it didn't upset you. Imagine how he must feel knowing you almost killed yourself to save this very demon - only to be hurt by this demon again.

Wherever Lucifer goes, his brothers tend to follow. He's the pillar holding the brothers together. Solomon knows the only way to keep Lucifer and some of his equally volatile brothers , he simply needs a pact with him.

What better way to ensure Humanity's safety, especially your safety, than to control the most probable cause of chaos?

But because he couldn't do that, so instead he started MC to be stronger in Magic, fortifying the defense on MC. Making sure MC can make the pacts to protect themself and humanity along with Solomon.

But still he knows, you're too kind for your own good and you don't have a heart cruel enough to give up on the demon brothers no matter what they do to you, so he still hopes to make the pacts himself so he can do what's necessary when things get worse.

.....

Solomon's Wrath and Request

Can you imagine how Solomon might have felt in the timeline where his MC was killed? The growing rage and guilt that it all happened so far away where he couldn't be there to save you? Barbatos had to merge the timelines for a reason.

Now imagine him seeing it all happen again, the fear in your eyes, your body frozen never even attempting to save yourself because you don't want to hurt the demons. But this time he's here - and he won't let it happen.

Do you know how much rage must bubble under his skin to reach up to this throat and peek through his never faltering smile?

The reason he begs and pleads you to choose humanity over the demons, it's only to make sure you're not caught in the wrong side of the war.

Of course he manipulates demons into pacts and acts shady around them, because look what happened to MC when all they did was be righteous, helping the brothers them the right way.

[rainbowchaox]

QSMP! Phil Character Analysis and How It Relates to Pissa

Okay so this is primarily coming from my tired thoughts in the discord run by the true pissa general aka @pepper-mintzyy. I’m gonna flesh it out here with much more detail.

I first came to this whole analysis because Phil always makes subtle characters. Most of his characters don’t verbalize what his motives or emotions. And his characters are always on the show not tell. And this is important because this trait of our his characters is the same in Qsmp!Phil and it’s a important to realize how this is so important to the pissa ship as whole . Because it’s literally why cubito Phil reacts the way he does towards those he especially loves (Aka Missa)

Phil loves to be subtle with his characters. Like I said above he is a show not tell with his characters. Usually his characters are layered and complicated. So much so he is never really honest with his own emotions. Primarily as a way to make sure he is ready for the next threat. The next enemy. He worries so much for the possibilities of danger he feels he can’t be distracted by emotions. He rather repress emotions then those he loves and cares for actually be in danger because he couldn’t get his emotions in check.

So knowing this of course he got paired with Missa whose emotions bleed out like ink. For the better or for the worse (Maybe I will eventually do a twin analysis on Missa character and how it relates to the pissa ship on a later date.)

And this is unknown territory for Philza. Because Philza as a character is always in survival mode. Sure Missa is emotional and illogical at times. But Missa is kind and gentle. And Philza is not used to this. But Missa as a person brings calm and comfort. Philza doesn’t feel like he could be in fight any minute when he is with Missa. Sure Missa can’t protect him in terms of fighting mobs. But Philza doesn’t need him to do so. Philza just wants him there.

So of course Philza will start to see Missa differently. And I think he knows he loves Missa. Philza isn’t dumb to his own feelings. He just can’t bring himself to say it verbally in case of possible danger. It’s hard for him to do things that go against his idea of being ready, of being strong, of being able to not be weak. Even if his perceived weakness is actually a strength.

So his love for Missa primarily comes out in loyalty, of waiting for him to come back when anybody else would have given up, in gifts, and in simple gestures that look like nothing but is actually everything. In the fact he matched his backpack to fit Missa. The fact he was so worried about him when he came back. I truly believe he knows he loves Missa. But whether it’s the paranoia or stubbornness he can’t bring himself to show that fact so clearly.

He isn’t a idiot. He isn’t emotionless. He knows who he hates. Who annoys him. And who he loves. But showing that emotional side out in the open. To others who might use that fact against him to harm those he loves. He can’t have that.

So he never says I love you in words. He says I love you with new armor. He says I love you bandaging wounds. He says I love you watching your blind spot and protecting you in battle. He says I love you by giving you his utmost loyalty. A gift hardest to get and the hardest to lose. And maybe he never says I love you to Missa in words.

That doesn’t mean he loves Missa any less. They are equal in their adoration. Philza emotions are a flame under the ice. Intense in passion and loyalty. I think a part of him is scared of his own emotions. And it probably took him ages to get to a point where he could control the pyre so to speak.

But he is just a person. And people are all selfish to a point. He is a brewing contradiction of a man. He wants both worlds. He wants to proclaim he loves Missa on top of a mountain. He want’s everyone to be jealous of him and Missa. He wants a true commitment.

But also we wants safety, he wants logic, He wants not to be weak and to protect without being overwhelmed by his own emotions. He is a complicated contradiction of a man. And his actions hurt him more than anything. He wants to be with Missa so badly but he can’t bring himself to fully let himself. But the fact is he adores Missa. He will possibly do anything for Missa and his family. And maybe one day he can see. He can be the protector and have Missa in the way he actually wants. That he so called WEAKNESS might be his greatest strength. That loving someone doesn’t mean he will lose them right after. He loves Missa. And he fully want to scream that fact.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Fae Prince Sun, Fae Prince Moon, Fae King Eclipse x Witch Reader

(excerpt from upcoming chapter 5 of Extended Contract)

Warnings: suggestive themes and the usual Fae tomfoolery

“We are running out of vases for me to knock over, Sun.“

“Now, now, practice makes perfect.“

“Yes, I am a professional bulldozer now.“

Sun gave you a gentle tap on the tip of your nose.

“Tut-tut, you sassy darling. I meant for the dancing lesson part, not the damage part. Although, that last crash? Exquisite, definitely recommend it as a new ringtone for your mobile device, it would be an improvement.“

“My dear prince, you may be cute, but not cute enough to get a pass on insulting my taste in music.“

“Permit me to make a retort in a similar manner. Your beauty could place all stars to shame, and you don't get a pass out of this formality either. We will have to open the first dance when we arrive in the Grand Hall, my love.“

“Is this really necessary?“

“Royal etiquette and tradition. Courtly gallantry is of crucial importance. Additionally, one must demonstrate refinement and confidence through their movement, the ability to command attention. You never know what diplomatic affairs or arrangements may be struck in these close encounters where you have to whisper sweet nothings to the other party as you sway them in every sense of the term.“

You blinked at him.

“It's my birthday, Sun. If I want to sit in the corner with a glass of brandy without elaborating anything, then everyone else in the Celestial Court will just have to deal with it.“

He chuckled, tapping the tip of your nose once more. You had half a mind to bite his finger off.

“Admirable attitude, lovely. Completely against court politics, but admirable nonetheless.“

You heard Moon grumble as he was taking care of the shards, waving his hand and letting them disintegrate into blue smoke.

“Clean up, clean up. Since we are already on the topic of practice and perfection, I now officially qualify as a maid.“

You couldn't help but smirk at the lunar Fae.

“Serves you right after laughing at my dancing skills, Moon.“

“Such slanderous words, wishing star. I deny these accusations. I wasn't laughing at your dancing skills, I was laughing at the lack thereof.“

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, turning your gaze back to his twin.

“Sun, your gremlin of a brother does have a point.“

The solar Fae tilted his head in confusion, his sun rays slightly lowering and rising as if they were the ears of a confused puppy.

“He does?“

“We have been practicing this move for the past indeterminate amount of ridiculously long hours and the only thing we accomplished thus far is almost giving Moon a concussion when he fell off the chair cackling like an idiot.“

Moon grinned, shadows moving around him playfully, forming grimaces on the walls as if to accentuate the mirth of their master. As much as he despised the necessity of dealing with broken glass and porcelain, he could not deny that the spectacular disaster he was witnessing was a nice compensation.

“Beautiful witch, your presence makes my soul sing, but do pardon me when I say that if we ever find ourselves in need of getting even with a foe, we will simply send you to dance in their house till you raze it to the ground.“

“I shan't pardon a single thing and you just earned yourself a night of sleeping on the floor, Moon.“

A part of you expected him to retaliate with a wicked trick, but he decided to take a more suave approach, knowing that he could get under your skin in other ways. He extended a shadowy tendril in your direction, allowing it to glide over your cheek and along your neck, making you shudder. Prince Moon knew very well what effect he could have on you, how sensitive you were, both to his touch and his sinfully passionate poetry.

“Divine cruelty, blissful and sweet, flames so tender, my heart eagerly awaits the gentle wrath of fallen stars. I offer my life to my fair beloved, their kisses and their blades equally dear to me. Banishment only stirs the dreams and my arms embrace your form even in the loneliest of dungeons.“

His raspy voice was low and sultry, mesmerizing, worthy of a powerful nocturnal Fae that could enthrall the masses if he so pleased. As he spoke, the shadowy tendril kept caressing your neck and around your collarbone. Desire bloomed in your core, but you did your best to suppress it and get your wits together. Moon was aware of your mental turmoil and he winked at you, grinning,  devious scenarios already playing out in his mind. Wicked man, shameless.

You groaned, flustered and defeated. Like a cranky cat, you tried to swat the dark tendril away, only for it to curl around your wrist.

“Moon, you devil.“

“Your devil, at your service. Command and I shall comply.“

[xreaderbooks]

All I breathe (2)

Pair: Azriel x Vanserra Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, violence, mentions of abuse, trauma, and torture

Summary: Could a mission to Y/n’s childhood home, the Autumn Court, spark a friendship between the night courts spymaster and the newest emissary? Or will they let their hatred come between, what could be, a strong bond?

A/N: I made Nuan from ACOWAR heavily OC in this, I haven't read the books in so long so please forgive any reference mistakes. I haven't read ACOSF either so keep that in mind, I did try to do my research for storyline purposes when it comes to the first 4 books. I also do not know how to describe dresses very well lol. Send me a message or comment if you want to be tagged in future parts.

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

An Illyrian bastard! you could not stand him. He was a contemptuous brute as you knew most Illyrians were. Cassian and Rhysand were just fine, if only he turned out more like his brothers. Although the comment the former had made had you reeling. In no world do you see yourself sharing a bed with the Shadowsinger. What was worse was knowing the days to come were going to be filled with hours of what had just occurred. In the safety of your room, you had released the flames that begged for freedom, letting them kindle on your hands, careful not to get too close to the furniture.

The power you and your twin had shared assuming it had come from your mother's distant bloodline. Your mother was another factor that you had thought of constantly during your stay at this new court. While you dealt with your own struggles mentally, you and Lucien had a better life here in Velaris, you were free from all the males who once dominated your life. You couldn’t say the same for your poor mother. She was the one person you looked forward to seeing.

“He’s not right you know?” A smooth casual familiar voice echoed from behind you. Your power jolted, letting out a blast of controlled flames in your hands.

“I could have burned you, you idiot!” You shoved your brother away from you once you recovered from the shock.

“No, you really couldn’t have.” He chuckled. There Lucien stood a few feet behind you, he just left yesterday morning, there was no reason for him to be back so early.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You crossed your arms and shuffled closer to your bed, sitting on the edge.

“I heard Rhysand gave you a tough assignment, with an even tougher partner.”

“Do not call him my partner and he’s weaker than any of you give him credit for,” You snarked back.

Lucien put his hands up in surrender, “Relax I’m just here to ease the tension.”

“Like you ever,” You glared at him playfully.

“He has a way of making you tense so easily, Sister.” Lucien sits beside you on the edge of the end of your bed. “Despite your hatred for him, you need to place your trust in him fully while you’re there.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” You put on your best puppy dog-like pleading eyes, Lucien stopped falling for it once you both came to an age where life was not so easily bought by a sweet smile or those perfect doe eyes you were able to mimic.

“I would if I could, I have business elsewhere” He ruffled your hair pushing your head away lightly when you scowled at him. “Important business in the mortal realms of all places.”

“Oh please, you can feign annoyance all you want but you’ve found an interest there.”

“I don’t have much keeping me here anyway Y/n, better to keep busy.” A sad disposition had formed within him whenever he was near Elain, he couldn’t do more than he was already doing to make Elain comfortable around him.

The words stung, and suddenly the statement Azriel made didn’t seem so far off the truth. You knew you could make yourself useful enough to be of value but what did any of that mean when your own twin couldn’t find your company worthy. Obviously, he did have places to go and people to meet but you did too and if he ever needed you, you would drop everything to be there for him. The scar on your left cheek was a testament to that.

You sat there side-by-side for a couple of minutes, enjoying each other's company in silence. Lucien tapped your knee twice before declaring he walk you out before your journey. He wrapped a loose arm around your shoulders, “I will be here when you get back.” He squeezed you into his side.

Reaching the last step Azriel was there waiting for you, he gave Lucien a nod before looking away to give you and your brother privacy. You squeezed his middle, “You better.”

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, “Stay safe, sister.”

“Goodbye brother,” You whispered back to him before he disappeared into thin air. Cassian came out of the kitchen and nodded for you to come to him.

Once in the kitchen Cassian peeked out of the door and spoke in a hushed tone, “Listen, I know it’s gonna be hard but the only way this plan will work is if you both find a way to set aside your differences and learn how to communicate.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair giving him an exasperated look, you thought he was going to give you some advice or something more useful than a lecture. “Unlike him, I believe I can be civilized. Besides we’re about to have plenty of bonding time.”

You caught him wince at the word bonding, “Let’s hope so.”

“Was that it?” You asked. Cassian hummed in response and with a finger flicked your head up by your chin.

“Remember Y/n, don’t hesitate. Hesitate and you're dead.” The same advice he gave you throughout training, a feat you had consistent trouble with; hesitation. You were decent, despite being out of shape with the lack of training and with what little you knew of combat. Illyrian training was different than what you were used to but it was better and you learned enough to be of use if you were needed. Maybe a little clumsy and lacked some confidence in your skills but in a life-or-death situation you expected your survival instincts would kick in.

He guided you to where Azriel was sitting on the couch, fiddling with his knife.

~~~

Winnowing to the dawn court went smoothly. You and Azriel winnowed separately, neither of you willing to touch each other, opting to travel alone rather than conserve energy to save time. The first big jump had you stopping for a break at the Day Court, you felt your power falter, the surge of fire from earlier draining you a little. The law of your power, where one of your powers is strong the others weaken.

You stopped by a lake for water, careful of your surroundings. A quick minute stop and when you had winnowed away to the point on the other side of the border where you knew to meet Azriel, he had given you an earful.

“Where were you?” His tone was nothing short of accusatory.

“I felt like I needed a short break so I stopped for some water,” You spoke casually so as not to alarm the always-on-edge spymaster. It took a toll on your patience but you needed him to be calm.

His eyes were narrow as he stared you down, “Where?”

“Near Day Court border Azriel, Where else?”

“Specifically where did you stop for water?” He pushed, “Shocking there were no sentries nearby.”

“I assure you whatever your mind conjured up about my whereabouts, is not true.”

“I just find it curious how you were not intercepted,” He crossed his arms and tilted his head “unless there is something that you’re not telling me.”

You were beginning to feel anxious by his interrogation, you didn’t have anything to hide but this felt familiar in the ways your brothers would question you after a night out or worse when you were on your little missions for them. Tamlin would do the same, jealous even though you knew he never truly loved you. Even when he had Feyre.

“I told you all there is to know,” You grit your teeth. “We’re wasting time on this useless topic when we would have been at Dawn already.”

“I don’t trust you.” He begins to walk in the direction of the border of the Dawn Court.

“Oh really?” Your voice is frivolous as you follow him, “I hadn’t gathered that. I can feel your shadows, they are not as obscure as you think they are. Even so, I have nothing to prove to you Shadowsinger.”

His jaw clenches, “You somehow have fooled everyone in my court that you are innocent but I will find a way to break you Firewielder.”

“And you will fail,” You stop walking when you step in front of him, blocking his way. “You think of me as some villain Azriel when I am just someone who is trying to get by in whatever way, whatever place I can. That is all I have been trying to do, all I have ever done. Gods, if your High Lady could forgive me, why can’t you?”

“You have caused my High Lady enough harm,” He says simply and starts to walk again but you block his path. “You do not deserve the forgiveness, Rhysand and Feyre have so graciously granted you.”

“I have paid for my sins just as I’m sure you have and will continue to do so, I do not need a constant reminder of my fuckups any more than you do.” Your words were like venom, you may not know all of what the Shadowsinger was made of but the whispers throughout the world of what he does to people, rumor or no- you knew would haunt him til the end of his days. “You are no better than I am Spymaster, you should do well to remember that next time you sink that knife into someone’s flesh.”

An astonished look featured on his chiseled face, you’d wager no one but his brothers dared to speak to him in such a way. You weren’t one to speak so flippantly, but Azriel brought out a side of you that you had to admit you reveled in. You hadn’t felt as strong as when you let all your anger out on him. Your brothers, your father, and Tamlin had made you cower into yourself so much so that you didn’t dare argue. Azriel lit a fire within you that fueled you to shed the weaker parts of your soul and fight back.

~~~

You were within the walls of the Dawn Court castle only minutes after your discussion with Azriel. Not a word was spoken after you said your peace, you stood next to each other with a generous amount of space between you as you waited for someone to attend to you at the front steps of the palace.

A friendly face appeared from behind the doors urging you both to come inside, the healer of the Dawn Court was a long-time friend of yours. You hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years yet her countenance was still the same. She hugged you in greeting and gave the Shadowsinger a nod.

“The High Lord is otherwise engaged unfortunately but he sends his regards and me of course,” Nuan clutched your arm that was already looped around hers. “I’ll be showing you to your rooms.”

“Thank you,” You smiled. Azriel repeated what you had said and followed close behind you. She guides you through a series of hallways with large pillars framing the view of the mountains.

“It’s not a problem, though I do ask that you join me for dinner tonight.” She pauses in front of a door, she’s still holding your arm so you assume this is Azriels room. “Both of you, it’ll be at that restaurant in town that we used to go to Y/n, you know the one.”

You nodded with pursed lips, “Yes, I do but I’m sure Azriel has other ideas on how he’d like to spend his night.” You tried to hint at her to leave him alone, you needed a break from him and his attitude.

“I’ll be there.” Was all Azriel said before bowing his head at her and closing himself in his room for the night.

Nuan raised her brows at you with a slightly agape mouth, dragging you through the long corridor lined with near-opalescent golden stone pillars. Once she had shown you your room a couple of doors down from Azriels, she shut the door behind her. “I had to give you this room so that I can talk to you without him hearing, Cauldron that male is astonishingly gorgeous.”

You snorted, “For a bat.”

She placed her hands on her hips, “Now I know damn well you have taste, Y/n and I know that you wholeheartedly agree with me.”

“I might have once upon a time, I’ve changed.” You smirked and strolled around the room, taking it all in. Your room had a balcony overlooking one of the many gardens, you would have chosen to stay at the Dawn Court if given the opportunity.

“Surely not because of the husband!” Nuan gasped. She reminded you of the one you were fake married to, Fae cannot lie but when one is desperate, the loopholes you find are wild.

You raised an eyebrow at her dramatics, “No, of course not.”

She walked toward you and reached out with her mechanical hand tracing the scar on your face, “Do you think he is that superficial? I have seen the scars on his hands Y/n, he is beautiful but not completely unmarred.”

“I forget how forward you are Nu,” You stepped out of her reach. “Have you heard the news of the faebane? It’s traveling all across the lands, the reason why we’re here.”

She nodded grimly, “Yes, I have heard but my information is limited. And you’re deflecting but that’s no matter, we shall continue that topic at dinner.”

“For an alchemist, you sure do like to gossip.” You teased, “You should seek out Azriel before dinner to discuss the faebane situation.”

“Why do you think I’m friends with an emissary? you make the most pleasant company for gossip.” She reached for the door handle and slipped out of the room.

~~~

You forgot how free-flowing Dawn Court fashion is, as you dressed you felt yourself grow self-conscious. The dress exposed your thighs, arms, and stomach with shibari-like knots around the torso and neck with layered sheer nude material covering. A huge difference from what you were wearing before. You reminded yourself of the fact that the fae of the Dawn Court were not judgmental people and they made dresses like this for all shapes and sizes and they saw every being as radiant. They were peaceful and kind and as you walked into the restaurant, you and Nuan had found one night, Azriel was sitting there in conversation with the dark-haired beauty.

Her dress was similar to yours, and her upturned eyes and olive-toned skin were complimented by the lavender color she was wearing. Azriel was talking intently, the loud chattering of everyone around you clouded your ability to hear what he was saying. Nuan was right, he was gorgeous. Beautiful in a way you could not compare to a male or female, he was otherwordly.

You scolded yourself mentally, as beautiful as he may be, his personality was not. His calculated, smooth-toned, encapsulating speech- your mind wandered again. You could not catch a break from him. Mentally or physically and you were sick of it. With a huff, you lifted the hem of your dress so that it would not catch onto your heel and strutted over to the table where Azriel was out of his chair and holding it out for you to take his place.

In the time you took to admire him from the entrance, you failed to see that they were sitting at a table for two. There was room for two more but you’d have to steal a chair from another table and he had given his chair to you. Your eyes flickered from the chair to him and hesitantly took a seat, he tucked you into the table, and you didn’t miss the way Nuan’s lips turned up on one side.

He pulled up a chair and sat. A Cheshire grin spread upon Nuan’s face, immediately nerves took over you.

“Now that we’re done exchanging information,” She nodded once to Azriel and directed her attention to you. “Y/n about that husband, how is he?”

Your jaw ticked, “I wouldn’t know, I don’t speak to him.”

She hummed, “Interesting. And your brother is he well?”

“Yes, he is, though I suspect you know that considering he visits you often.”

Her laugh came out in a bark, Azriel's eyes and shadows watched you two in a dance, silently observing your postures and hidden messages. He wouldn’t understand the game you and Nuan played, especially not the one Nuan was playing right now, you were beginning to lose track of yourself.

“So Tamlin is completely out of the picture now?” She went back to her original target. You coughed a little bit of the water you sipped a second before she asked. “No, Nuan.” You cursed. “I live in the night court now, everything's changed.”

“Just curious, Y/n/n-” She said lightheartedly. “Do you live there with him?” She glanced at the male sitting next to you. So this is what she wanted to know.

Azriels eyes widened, “Absolutely not!” You both exclaimed at the same time, creating looks coming from nearby tables.

“Apologies, really I thought you two were together, possibly in secret. I got a sense that you both were involved, please forgive me.” Nuan’s cheeks reddened as she stammered her apology.

You were entirely upset knowing that she was embarrassed by her display. You switch the topic as smoothly as you could, asking about how the faebane works and if there was any way she could create an antidote without knowing the exact ingredients in the newer version. She answered each question with ease, Azriel asked a few of his own and finished up the conversation they were having earlier about the theories on who could have made it. At that time your dinner was cleared, and the three of you lingered to pay for your meal.

“Excuse me, I believe I see a patient of mine who isn’t doing what he’s supposed to-” Nuan rushed out of her seat to an older-looking male.

You caught Azriels stare when you turned back into your chair. He looked pensive as he opened his mouth to speak, “How did you and Nuan…”

“Meet? Under the mountain.” You responded though you weren’t so sure why considering you still wanted to be petty for his interrogation. “She healed and made Lucien's eye, also helped me heal when I got the scar.”

A few moments of silence.

“I’d like to-” He cleared his throat “I’d like to apologize for earlier.”

Your eyes search his in suspicion, he continues. “I should have believed you. My shadows told me that you were speaking the truth and I didn’t believe you.”

“I have had enough overbearing males in my life dictating my life and questioning my every move without you being added to the list.”

“I’m trying Y/n,” He sighed clenching the table napkin.

“By telling me that your shadows tried to plead my case and even then you wouldn’t believe me?”

“When you put it that way.” He breathed out a laugh, the closest one you’ve ever heard from him that was meant for your ears. It was a small gesture, one that did not go unnoticed by you. Around you, he was always so tense.

“What is it then?” You inquire, “Do you hate me or could we call a truce?”

“As if you could hold your tongue for long enough for me not to hate you.”

You allowed yourself a small smile, “You are truly unrelenting, if this is how you are with me I wonder how are with the people you bring to your chamber.”

“You talk of my work with so much ease,” He grimaced. “You wouldn’t be able to actually stomach it.”

The humor that hung in the air was gone, you sensed a challenge. “I can’t do what you do but I am not afraid of you Shadowsinger.”

His hazel eyes beheld yours, exploring them, you weren’t sure what he was searching for but the intensity with which he stared unnerved you. “If you weren’t the sister of the male I despise the most and if you weren’t once married to the one who caused my lady so much grief, I could be inclined to like you.” His smooth low toned voice was hypnotic.

You reached for your glass of wine, the energy too much for you to take sober taking a sip before replying “If you weren’t such an insufferable bastard, I could be inclined to say the same.”

“I still don’t trust you,” Azriel said slyly.

You rolled your eyes, “Do you have mind healers in Velaris? Cause you desperately need one, you all do.”

That brought out a deep laugh from him, you looked at him in awe at the melody that came from his mouth and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time. Your stare fixed upon his smile, bright and angelic made your heart jump. He was suddenly aware of you and the wall he had when he was around you built up again.

Your mind felt the need to know if what he said earlier was true, “Is that really why you hate me?”

“You can’t just let a moment be, can you Firewielder?” He no longer carried that sharp grin that had you melting for a second.

“I am not my brother, Eris I mean, what he’s done. I have no part in it.”

He nodded slowly, “Now tell me why you hate me.”

You picked at your cuticle as you spoke- a nervous human habit that you picked up throughout your years. “I don’t. I don’t particularly like you but you have done nothing but make my life miserable since the moment you rescued us from the ice and every moment after that.”

You were being chased by your brothers along with Feyre and Lucien when Cassian and Azriel had come to Feyre's aid. That was when you had found out that Feyre was the High Lady of the Night Court when you and Lucien had been brought to Velaris and saw the city you’ve grown to love. It was the start of everything. Before and after the war.

You and Lucien were appointed as emissaries to the night court, Lucien had his assignments and you had yours. You served as both emissary and spy (occasionally), while Lucien had to send bi-weekly reports to Azriel, you had to report to him for every single assignment unless specified otherwise by the High Lord. This is the cause of the clash you had with the Spymaster.

That day was the only day you had peace from him, if only because nobody in the inner circle had warmed to your presence yet.

“My whole life I’ve heard of the monstrous fae who served the Night Court, the Court of Nightmares was real to me but I was never afraid of the stories- of you. All you did was prove that the stories were true, like the act you all put on when you go there, is real.”

“You should know that I do not find it easy to be around you Y/n.” You were about to ask him what he meant when Nuan’s figure came into view, pulling a lesser fae male along with her.

“Y/n I’d like you to meet Damian- Damian this is the friend I told you about.” Nuan shoved him your way as you stood, you stumbled into him and he steadied you by your elbows. “I took care of the bill by the way, I told Damian he should walk you to the palace. Azriel and I still have loads to discuss.”

You smiled shyly at the blond-haired guy in front of you and turned your head to where Azriel was once sitting, you were about to protest but Nuan was already dragging Azriel out the door. You appreciated your friend's efforts to set you up with the attractive male that was nothing short of a gentleman as he made easy conversation during the walk to the palace, but after dinner with Azriel, this guy wasn’t going to cut it. It would be too easy for you to bring him up to your room and spend the night with him but you were on a job and you were not going to give Azriel another to scold you. 

~~~

Next Chapter

Taglist: @americancowgirl19 - @feyres-fireheart - @brekkershadowsinger - @marina468

[teyums]

Twin Flames pt. 2

pairing: Ao’nung -> Neteyam x fem!metkayina reader

contains: angst with underlying fluff, melancholy ending. ao’nung and reader are 19, neteyam is 20

a/n: here is the well awaited part 2! i pretty much wrapped it up with the ending. my apologies to the ao’nung girlies if i break your heart with this 😅 i hope y’all enjoy wc: 3,219

Twin Flames. A love so fierce among two souls it’d be impractical to think you could come out unscathed. And while you and Ao’nung were written in the stars— stars burn out and fate can be revised.

Love hurts, that’s the truth of it all. You sign away the rights to your heart when you blindly take that plunge into a realm of whirlwinded emotions, because the reward is always worth the risk.

Ao’nung could sit here and say moments blurred into days, days into weeks, and so on. But the statement would be a bold faced lie, a lie he would much rather have been living over what he was experiencing now, because absolutely nothing blurred together. It was all painfully, crystal clear.

Each day he endures your absence from his life stretches the full, dreaded twenty four hours. Every grueling hour, every painstaking minute, every enervating second leaves him mercilessly aware of just how badly he’s screwed things up with you.

And he stalks around the village like an idiot, misplaced and hopeless, looking in every nook and cranny you might have tucked yourself away in to no avail. It’s like you’ve completely disappeared into thin air. Either that, or you’re really good at avoiding him.

He’d seen you in glimpses, evanescent moments where he’s left thinking he must have imagined your face, because in the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Just as quickly as you come, you go, like the shells the sea leaves upon the shoreline, only to steal them back into the taunting waters that laugh at your failed attempt to rush and grab them before they’re lured back into the deep.

He recognizes now, just how extensive the consequences of his actions are. It’s when he stalks back to his Mauri, a slight stagger in his stride due to the longevity of the day’s training. His father took no interest in going easy on him, probably due to how distracted he seemed the entirety of the lesson.

The centers of targets went untouched by the point of his spear because it fell short every time he plunged it through the air. Hot sand enveloped the discarded tool in a blanket of gold when he chucked it down out of frustration and he’s so fucking tired of this.

In the midst of his exhaustion, his mind plays a cruel trick on him. Makes him think that he’s trudging all the way home to meet your bright smile and warm embrace, until reality hits him like a relentless, angered wave of accountability and almost has his knees buckling. Of course you’re not there, how foolish of him to think you’d forget about what he did and throw yourself right back into the crossfire of his confliction.

It’s pathetic. How he lays in his bed at night, alone, defeated, kept up with the never ceasing memory of how hard he made you cry that day. How he swore he could feel the shards of what once was the shell of your being scrape his skin as it slipped through his fingers and into nothingness before him. He desperately tried to hold onto them, tried to put your pieces back together, but you wouldn’t even let him do that. You scooped up the broken remnants of your heart and took them with you. Couldn’t you have let him keep just one?

He stares across his moonlit room at the shelf on his wall. Particularly at the disheveled accessory that sits atop it, mocking him in the way it’s gone unworn. Slightly misshapen from how tightly your hand had clenched around it, your indignation molded into the crumpled fabric. The gift haunts him, reminds him of the day he wishes he could take back but he can’t bring himself to get rid of it. It’s all he has left of you and your scent still lingers on the leather, though It’s fading, slowly.

He wonders how you’re doing, how you’re handling the whispers that float through the air of you being the latest victim of his immaturity. How he aches to comfort you, to tell you that you were so much more to him than another thoughtless mistake, more than a cheap rendezvous. It angers him, rocks his core with something fierce the way people talk about what happened like it’s their latest gossip. But who is he to blame but himself?

Any other time, or any other girl, rather, he would have been laughing right alongside the talebearers. Shrugging in a disgustingly nonchalant manner and blaming whatever poor soul he’d wronged for her own heartbreak because she knew what she was getting into when she got with him.

It’s why it hurts so bad. Because even while you managed to uproot a gentle side to him no one else had before, somehow he still found a way to hurt you, and even worse than the others at that.

How did he fuck up this badly?

_____

A month has passed and he wishes he would have lost count by now. Everyday without you is excruciating. He had no idea he could miss someone to this extent and it’s why he’s sat by himself on the shore, watching the waves crash against the waiting rocks, elbows resting upon his perched knees with his forearms hung limp between them. And like usual, his ears perk up at the sound of your name in a conversation that has nothing to do with him.

“So, Y/n, huh?” A voice chuckles.

He’s instantly on alert, all because your name rolls from a male’s tongue a little too freely. His spine straightens and his throat clears as he wills his body to remain calm at the simple mention of you.

“Yeah, man. I haven’t seen them together in a while, not sure what happened but I’m pretty sure it’s over. My rites are next week, and I’ll definitely pass. I’m thinking of asking her for her hand.”

Ao’nung nearly recoils and he’s up on his feet in seconds. The thought of you with someone else has his mind in a frenzy. Everything is a blur, the shouting of those around to witness is muted when his fist comes in contact with the poor na’vi’s nose and he’s hissing down at him in a fit of unrefined rage as if he even has the right.

“She’s spoken for.”

_____

Though his failed attempts proved to be fruitless— Ao’nung was somehow still confident enough, or maybe deep enough in denial to believe that eventually, you’d come around. That in due time, the memories of his mistake would trickle from your mind and you’d fall into him again.

But then, the tide changes.

Strange na’vi come swooping in on unfamiliar looking animals, drawing up a crowd of alarmed villagers with their arrival. Men shield their mates from the potential threat, and mothers scoop their children up off their feet and into protective arms while weapons are quickly gathered in preparation.

The screeches of the large birds split through the air and ring uncomfortably in Ao’nung’s ears, but still, he starts towards the direction of the disruption. The dark blue na’vi land on the wet sand of the shores, slender bodies lacking of weapons and hands outstretched to propose vulnerability, ensuring that they come in peace.

There’s six of them. The father, he assumes, the mother, a small girl who’s quickly gathered by her mother’s curt demand, a strange looking female who nervously cowers into her shawl behind them, and two boys.

Their tails are odd, lithe and silly in the way they swish back and forth with uncertainty. A tuft of hair decorates the ends and Ao’nung’s face crinkles in disapproval, but for some reason, you’re intrigued.

It’s the first time he’s really seen you in weeks. All of you, no longer hidden by your desire to avoid him. And somehow, you’re even more beautiful than when he’d last seen you, eyes beady, sparkling and round with interest and he prays you’ll look in his direction, but you don’t. You stand with the rest of the crowd, hands folded behind your back while you eye the strange looking newcomers and Eywa he just wants to hold you again. It’s hard to focus on the invasion of foreigners to his land, because all he can think about is you.

The younger one has already expressed interest and introduced himself to Tsireya with an upwards nod of his head, and she’s a giggling mess beside you, so Ao’nung assumes it must be the eldest brother you’re watching so intently. The armor he wears resembles his father’s, but there’s an obvious difference between their status as he quietly stands behind the man negotiating. Toruk Makto, he comes to find out, or what he calls himself—Jakesully.

Ao’nung isn’t even listening to the conversation his father is having right beside him, because you laugh and his ear turns in its direction, then his head follows. That sweet, sweet laugh. It should’ve melted his heart, like it always did, but instead it makes it freeze over and sends a chill prickling up his spine, because you’re not looking at him.

You couldn’t help your curiosity.

Contrary to Tsireya’s advice, you’d reached out and touched the fluff of the eldest brother’s tail, because everything about him was so different from you and you had a hard time believing he was real. His markings resembled stripes, yours waves. His hair neatly plaited, yours loose. He’s very, very composed, hands politely clasped together in front of him, head raised confidently but not arrogantly and you don’t know why, but you like that. His physique is lean, carved and sculpted to reveal tight muscles that of a warrior. He’s taller than Ao’nung, and much taller than you.

It made you giggle, how his tail seemed to be the most animated part of his dignified, soldier-like disposition, because it hurriedly curled around his small waist with a mind of its own and away from your gentle finger the moment you made contact. The Metkayina boy felt his stomach curdle and bubble with jealousy at your genuine infatuation with this stranger.

The eldest’s braids sway over his shoulders with the movement of his head whipping around, wooden beads clacking against each other while his intense, aureate eyes attempt to locate the culprit of the intrusion. They miss you completely and glance right over your head, but when his chin meets his chest to return his attention to the Olo’eyktans’ conversation, that’s when they find you, and take time to trail down your form. And they keep you, and don’t let you go for a long, spark-filled moment, your big blue eyes peering up into his amber ones that twinkle with newfound interest. You’re shorter than the girls he’s used to, your body plump and soft in the areas Omaticayan women are slender. The boy’s never seen someone quite like you before, that’s clear in the way his brow bone raises.

You looked apprehensive for a beat, smile faltering due to the searing, unintentionally intimidating gaze this man has on you while he examines your person, and Ao’nung’s foot moves to approach, ready to protect his long lost love from this bizarre na’vi— this intruder.

But then, the boy’s hardened mask crumbles, bioluminescent freckles emit a soft glow against dark blue, and he smiles at you, more than willing to look past your curiosity. Your cheeks flush amaranth when you return his grin, the same way they would when you used to look into his eyes.

It was in that moment, Ao’nung felt his heart split into four, as it’d already been severed in half long before this.

____

You make him feel welcome. Neteyam, that is. He occupies the early hours of your day, meets you at your Mauri every morning with a basket of your favorite fruits as a thank you for helping train him and his siblings, because he’s just not satisfied with being anything less than perfect. And it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about your past in the way you beam and pull him along the netted path by his hand, effervescent in the way you bounce along, insistent and thrilled to show him all the parts of your home— his new home.

And he trails behind you with the goofiest smile, because Neteyam would follow you anywhere. He made this known to you from the start and that was something you craved—the solidity of it all. Assurance. The security in something real.

He’s sweet to you, Ao’nung knows he is, because after just a month of these forest freaks living in the village, he notices unfamiliar trinkets begin to adorn your stature.

You now keep a few long braids in your hair, one on either side of your face, and two in the back, you’ve never done that before. You always claimed you liked your hair loose like the waves of the sea you loved so— untamed like the light of your spirit. But your undeniable pull to the man of the forest has you compromising.

There’s a stack of unfamiliar beads looped on the ends of each of them, and surely they’re not made with a material collected from the reef. They’re wooden and polished, embellished with painted markings he doesn’t recognize. You’ve never worn those before.

Ao’nung waits for this fling to pass. But then, the second month goes by, and then another, until he realizes that you’ve moved on. Of course you have. Why shouldn’t you? It’s not like you hadn’t found him cozied up with another girl, cooing the same promises he’d kissed onto your skin into the ear of another, as if he hadn’t been telling you for nights on end that he wanted to make you his mate. What a beautiful lie, and if only you’d known it was the truth.

You like Neteyam, because he’s gentle. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and cares for others more than he cares for himself. He makes you feel seen, and safe. Valued. You make him feel heard, and appreciated. Relaxed. Things the both of you have apparently lacked the majority of your young lives.

It’s easy with him, because you never have to worry about his eyes lingering elsewhere or his attention wandering. He’s so smitten with you and you’re so enamored with him, and it’s all so consuming that you don’t know what else to do other than rave about it from the cliff tops to prevent your heart from bursting with the premature promise of forever and scaring him off, little do you know he wants it more than you do.

Neteyam makes you feel whole, and gorgeous in all aspects of your being, not just beautiful because of what he sees on the outside. He’s in love with your soul, in a way you never thought a man could be, but only because you’d never been told.

You’re his only one, and in every breath he takes he makes sure this is known. He boasts about you to his parents and siblings and the friends he’s managed to make in the village whenever he gets the chance. And with slender fingers, he’s much more skilled at Ao’nung at this jewelry making thing, because damn near every week there’s a shiny new prospect of Neteyam’s love and appreciation strung around your neck in pretty beads and shells that have you squealing and jumping into his waiting arms as if he’s proposed.

It’s something you’d always told Ao’nung you wanted, a token of his appreciation in the form of something you could hold, something you could keep close to your heart for years to come. Something he never got around to doing because he insisted to himself that it’d push him off the deep end and into the tumultuous waters of loving you, unknown to the fact that he needed no one to help him do that but himself.

You feel like a princess everyday because Neteyam tells you that you are one. And he doesn’t just tell you, he treats you as such, too.

Sun kissed jewels from the high depths only a skilled climber can reach dress your wrist, like they were made for you. They match your eyes and you wear them like it’s your second skin because you almost cried when he gave them to you, paired with a confession of his love and Ao’nung wishes he’d thought of it first.

It makes him sick. All he hears around the grapevine is how you’ve never looked this happy. How you have an unmistakable glow to you, a pep in your step due to the golden boy who’s somehow won the hearts of the people in Awa’atlu in his short time here, just as he had done with his own people back home.

How a weightlessness clings to your answers when your friends ask how you and the forest boy are getting along, because it’s nothing less than a dream come true.

It’s a stupid question, the answer is so painfully obvious that it has Ao’nung wanting to rip his hair out.

Neteyam looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in his sky, like the sun rises in your irises though he knows the blazing star is much too hot to be the color blue. He holds onto you in public, proudly, without shame or fear that others might see, because he’s just so blessed to call you his.

He’d even passed his rites to cement that, the first out of his siblings to do so, and it’s no surprise that he chose one of the most extensive designs for his tattoo. You were right there, holding his hand as he sat through the entire session with no breaks, all to prove to you how strong of a warrior he was. Though the black ink etched along the side of his hip that stretches all the way down to his ankle is more than enough proof of that. And as if to rub seasalt into the wound, he’d even tamed Tsurak (Skimwing) on his first try, because he excels in everything he does, yet the man shows you off as if you’re his biggest accomplishment.

Because you are, and you should be. Ao’nung just hates that it isn’t him in his spot.

____

He shouldn’t have asked.

But you and Tsireya are close friends and he just wanted his mind to shut up with the endless scenarios it creates on loop when he’s trying to sleep at night. He just wanted to know if it was as serious as it looked, and his foolish heart really hoped it wasn’t. So every time Tsireya returned home from the daily training sessions with you and the other Sully’s, he was the first to meet her at the entrance, prying her for more information on you and the one who’d taken his place.

“Tell me,” He demands of his younger sister. It’s a look she’s never seen in his eyes before— desperation. “Does she love him?” He breathes, grasping on to the last bit of hope he has left.

She sighs, plucking her bicep from his soft hold with a gentle shake of her head. “Ask her yourself, Ao’nung. This is no longer my place, I will not get in the middle of your messes.”

“I can’t ask her, ‘Reya, you know that.” He pleads with her, “She won’t even look at me anymore. Please, just tell me.”

Her eyes meet his, looking between them and he can feel the disappointment radiating off her demeanor because she knows what he’s done. She knows you and Neteyam have plans to make your bond official, and she knows it’s far too late for her brother to fix things.

“Do you want her to be happy?”

Ao’nung hesitates at the question, but nods nonetheless. His answer is complicated, there’s layers to it. He wants you back, because he wants you to be happy, and you were always happy when you were with him. At least, you used to be, so maybe things could go back to the way they were if he tried hard enough.

But all hope dwindles like a candle snuffed with wet fingers when he hears the truth he’s been avoiding.

“Then let her go.”

part one

Likes + Reblogs + Comments are much appreciated! 💗

tag list based on the comments on part one ⬇️

@ako-gamboge @yaya6765 @yourusername1 @melllinaa @eitaababe

[coneyislandbabey]

high by the beach. -> k. sirko

WARNINGS: profanities, getting high

SYNOPSIS: The feelings that grow between you and Karen Sirko seem to be the easiest thing in the world. word count: 2,039

NOTES: This fic is based on this request! I had such a good time writing it, I hope you guys love it.

You couldn’t believe you were here. Sure, the Laurel Canyon house was rundown, and maybe haunted, as Warren fervently believed. But it was a house in Laurel fucking Canyon. You had all worked your asses off for years, and now you were here, in California, as a band. You finally had something real to show for all of it. 

The house, for all of its positive attributes, was still short a bedroom in comparison to the amount of people trying to live in it. You drew the short straw, meaning you got the haunted bedroom, a room that you would be sharing with Karen Sirko if you were all able to convince the woman to come out to Los Angeles and join your band. You didn’t mind; the room was the biggest one in the house, and you would gladly take some ghostly experiences in exchange for the space, and you and Karen had hit it off when you met her back in Baltimore, playing for the Winters. 

The night you moved in, you all went to this diner downtown, crammed into one booth with your burgers and making plans like anything in the world was possible. And maybe it was– sure as hell felt like it. 

You were thrilled– and mildly shocked– when Karen accepted the invitation to move into the Laurel Canyon house and join the band. You loved your boys dearly and had become very close with Camila, but being the lone woman in the band totally blew sometimes. They didn’t mean it, you knew, but it was clear that the rest of them waved off your opinion often, particularly Billy. You had a feeling it was because they’d known you since you were a little girl, and you were positive that Billy still saw you that way even all those years later. When Karen arrived with all her bluntness and her inability to take shit from any of them, you could’ve cried with gratitude. Her just being there got you more professional respect from the rest of them than you had ever been afforded before. 

You said as much to her, one of those first nights after she moved in. It was after one of her first rehearsals with the band, during which you had tried to suggest a change in one of your bass riffs, and Billy completely waved you off. Karen had stepped in, asserting that she thought the change actually suited the song better, and that you all should at least try playing the song that way. Graham, with his sweet little crush on the blonde, immediately agreed, so Billy begrudgingly did too. Obviously, it turned out that your version was better, and it became the official riff on the song. 

“Thanks for what you did today,” you said. You were sitting on your bed in your pajamas smoking a cigarette. Karen was standing in front of the mirror, brushing out her hair before bed. It had been a little awkward at first, not just sharing a room with the woman, but a bed as well, but you really didn’t have any other choice, considering you all couldn’t afford to get a pair of twin beds; luckily, Karen took to you like a match to flame and now every night had you giddy as sleepovers used to have you as a kid. 

“What did I do?” she asked, looking at you through the mirror. 

“Standing up for my riff,” you clarified. “They never would’ve listened to me about that if you weren’t here.”

“Well, that’s bullshit,” she said, setting the hairbrush down and climbing onto the bed. “It’s a great fucking riff and it made the song better. If they wouldn’t have listened to you alone, they’re a bunch of idiots.”

“I’m not arguing that one,” you laughed. Karen reached over and flipped the lightswitch, settling down on her back. It was a hot night, and the air conditioner in the window was doing its best to cool the room off, but you were both laying on top of the sheets, sticky with sweat. 

You closed your eyes, willing sleep to come to you, but it never did. It was just too fucking hot in that room. After what felt like an eternity, Karen turned to look at you and asked, “you wanna go smoke a joint on the deck?” 

You both made your way out to the deck, Karen leading the way through the dark house and you following behind, a pair of joints and your lighter clutched in one hand. Once outside, you settled into the chairs, handing Karen one of the joints and lighting it for her before lighting your own. You inhaled deeply and then exhaled, your head dropping back to take in the wide, navy sky, pockmarked with stars. 

“God, never saw stars like this in Pittsburgh,” you said, taking them all in. You looked over at Karen in her silence, only to find that she was already looking at you. “What are you looking at?”

Karen took another hit of her joint, blew out the smoke. “You,” she said simply. 

She was looking at you so sure, like you were something unshakable. That’s how Karen was, you had come to realize; she just believed that things were supposed to be a certain way, unfold a certain way, and they did. Nobody had ever looked at you that way before. 

***

Yours and Karen’s nocturnal escapes onto the deck or down to the beach to get high or drop acid or anything else quickly became routine. The afternoons and the evenings were for work, for throwing yourselves into the album you were creating, throwing yourselves into making it the best possible thing it could be. The mornings and early afternoons were for sleeping, first of all, but for hanging out with the rest of the band, getting drunk and going to the movies together, eating at the diner. But the nights were just for the two of you. There was a certain comfortable quiet that Karen’s mere presence encouraged in you; you had never been so content and unworried as you were with her. In the midst of the pressure of putting together the album and trying to make it in Los Angeles, you came to depend on those serene nights, more than you ever depended on any drugs or booze alone. 

And just like that, the recording for your first album was done. All the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into making it were coming to a stop. You’d all have some time to actually relax for once while it was being mixed, and you had no idea what you were going to do with yourself. The whole band had gone out celebrating, and were just getting in during the early hours of the morning. 

You stood in front of the house, still drunk but well on your way to sobering up, watching the boys stagger up the stairs. Karen came to stand next to you, looping her arm through the crook of your elbow. You turned and smiled at her, and she leaned her head on your shoulder. 

“Let’s go to the beach,” she said, beginning to walk in the familiar direction before you’d responded, because of course the answer would have been yes anyway. The pair of you made your way there in comfortable silence. You felt filled to the brim by the sounds of the crickets and the crashing waves, the moonlight, her very presence, right there next to you. 

Karen dropped down into the dry sand right before the edge of the waves, pulling you down with her. You collapsed into her, slightly dizzy with the receding end of your drunkenness, and she righted you into a sitting position. It was a full moon, and the whole ocean was lit up silver in front of you. Maybe it was your inebriated state, but you thought that the sky had to be full of more stars than you had ever seen in your entire life. 

“Beautiful,” Karen murmured beside you, and you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you said, “I’ve never seen so many stars in my life. Looks like this science project I had to do back in grade school, where we pricked a bunch of holes in a piece of black cardboard and shone a flashlight through to simulate the night sky. I had poked so many holes in mine I think it was more holes than cardboard at that point.”

Karen laughed. “The stars are a wonder, yes. But I was talking about you.”

At this, you turned to look at her for the first time since you had reached the beach. You had almost gotten used to the way Karen looked at you in the time you’d known her, this way of looking like she was really seeing without ever having to try, like she could figure you out with one glance. It had made you feel so vulnerable, so bared naked, until all it did was make you feel comfortable and warm. You didn’t mind, you realized, if Karen could see inside of you like that. You wanted her to, even, you thought. She was the only person in the world that you would want to see you like that. 

The pale ivory of her skin and wheat blonde of her hair glowed blue in the night, illuminated like your own personal moon. You wanted to reach out and hold that glowing face in the palm of your hands. She was peering at you with those lovely dark eyes, every inch of her face serene, but a question still posed in the subtle scrunch of her brow, the pout of her full lips. 

You had tried so hard to parse through your feelings for Karen in the time that you’d known her without touching upon a certain conclusion, a conclusion that could easily end your friendship, could easily upend the band in the worst case scenario. You ignored the way you felt every time she would choose you to stick with in a room full of people, every time she looked at you in that specific way of hers. You tried so hard, and in one sentence she unraveled it all. 

“Karen,” you whispered, trying to convey the warning, the longing, the complexities of your feelings to her all in just her name. 

“I know,” she said, imperceptibly nodding. That was all you needed– in an instant, your hand was on her cheek, your mouth slanting against hers. She pulled herself closer to you, energetically returning the kiss, until any distance at all became too much and she simply moved to situate herself on your lap. Your hand slid past her cheek, up her neck and to tangle in her already wild hair. By the time she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were swollen, and you both were panting hard. The moon was bright in the sky behind her, lighting her up like a halo. 

“This life we all have here, this beautiful thing we’ve all built here,” Karen said. Her hands were still on your shoulders, warm and solid. “The magic of it all comes from the fact that I’m doing it with you, getting to spend all of my time with you.”

Your breath caught at her words. “I never thought… I didn’t think there was a chance that you–” 

“I didn’t either,” she said with a breathless laugh, before you had to find the words to finish your thought. “But watching you watch the stars tonight, I had to say it. I couldn’t go any longer without you knowing.” 

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against hers. “Well, I’m really fucking glad you decided to say it, because I don’t think I ever would have had the guts to.” 

Karen laughed, the sound reverberating through her body and into your own, and you pulled her closer by the belt loops of her jean shorts, pressing your lips to hers once again. There was a lot you had to be grateful for in this life you’d made, especially now, but the mere existence of Karen Sirko in your arms very easily topped the list.

[theguildawards]

Hello guildmates!

The Nomination Period is now closed! Below the cut you will find a complete list of all the fanfiction nominations received for The Guild Awards this term! The mobile-friendly version can be found in a Google Doc here that has the complete list! You can find the list of all the fanart nominations here!

If you do not see your nomination, or you find issues with the links, please reach out to us as soon as possible!

We are going to give you 2 weeks time to enjoy all of the pieces nominated for this term! We strongly encourage that when you view a work of art or read a fanfiction, please reblog or leave a review to let the creators know how much their work and talent is appreciated!

The voting period will begin November 15th and end November 29th midnight PST!

In order to be able to vote, you will need to login. We will be posting the link to the voting form on the first day of the voting session.

Got a question? Check out ourFAQor send us an ask!

Message one of the mods directly: @sassybratt9791 @phoenix-before-the-flame @kiliinstinct​ @ratretro  @phoneboxfairy

Thank you to everyone who nominated for making this term absolutely wonderful and happy voting!

[please reblog to help spread the love of these amazing creators!]

FANFICTION

Best Action/Adventure

“The Other Four Idiots, Plus a Cat” by @thehylianidiot (tumblr/AO3)

“Fairy Tail’s Twin Dragons” by LokaMuse (AO3)

“yuánfèn” by tiddiejoon (AO3)

Best AU/AR

“More than just a Fairy Tale” by ChaoticKori (AO3)

“Ain’t it warming you the world gone up in flames? Ain’t it the life of you, you’re lighting of the blaze” by JenaSmiless2s (AO3)

“One Night in New York” by @eryiss (tumblr/AO3)

“Lies and Deception” by @gaychkn-nuggets (tumblr/AO3)

“Fairytale of Doom” by Crimsonstarbird (AO3)

“Fairies After Dark” by shelbyshoe (AO3)

Best Canon

“Episode One: Hargeon” by @genavere (tumblr/AO3)

“Iron Honeymoon” by kaotic312 (AO3)

“Knees Deep” by FantastiqueParfait (AO3)

“The Key(s) to Victory” by riddlercj (AO3)

“Day of Parting” by Heartofroses (FFN)

Best Angst

“Arcane” by @classysassy9791 (tumblr/AO3)

“doubt truth to be a liar” by SilverSnowblossom (AO3)

“Turn on the Light” by Natsudragneelswhore (AO3)

Best Dark

“happy ending” by @tokkias (tumblr/AO3)

“Guilty but Freed (Justine)” by MadFreakChloe (AO3)

“if you asked me i would lose it all” by ObsessiveExplosion (AO3)

“The World is Ugly” by StevMarie (AO3)

“The Colosseum” by @kiliinstinct (tumblr) / Rougescribe (AO3)

Best Drama

“Midnight in the Woods” by Akira_Takeshi (AO3)

“Bring Back What Once Was Mine” by Winged_Capybara (AO3)

“The Virus” by Horrorgurlx (FFN)

Best Humor/Parody

“glowstick mode, activate” by @greyseyebrowscar (tumblr) / lilyntlrs (AO3)

“A Weapon of Mass Love” by EeveeGirly (AO3)

“Captive” by hisuichanxx (FFN)

Best Oneshot

“Looking for his demon” by @jemmahazelnut (tumblr/AO3)

“For you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do” by SunSnake (AO3)

“the long road home” by @sunslants (tumblr/AO3)

“no one knows” by RatLuvrr (AO3)

“I Shall Go On Living” by SagetheWriter (AO3)

“Goddess of Water” by Kikuneesama (AO3)

Best Character Portrayal

“Feline Senses” (Loke/Leo) by Pokedash55 (AO3)

“The Fourth of Jellal” (Mystogan) by @dragonshost (tumblr/AO3)

Best Romance

“epiphany” by thetr1ckster (AO3)

Best LGBTQ+ Romance 

“In Your Love” by @sandwitchstories (tumblr/AO3)

Best Serial

“Tra’viin Tome’mir” by GemmaRose (AO3)

“Abandon Your Fear” by PagesInTheLibrary (AO3)

“Heart Shaped World” by Myahud (AO3)

Best Ficlet

“Steak and Strawberries” by @cobrakiin (tumblr) / lilykotsu (lilycobra) (AO3)

“Whumptober2023 1: “How Many Fingers am I Holding Up?” by @thehylianidiot (tumblr)

Best Classic

“I Leave You, My Pride” by @wildrhov (tumblr) / Rhov (AO3)

“Welcome to the Masquerade” by StevMarie (AO3)

“Contract of Three” by HazelRoses (AO3)

“Midnight to Dawn: A Kindred Soul” by @gemnika (tumblr/AO3)

“Kidnapping Erza” by CrimsonStarbird (FFN)

“mirror mirror” by mochiwrites (AO3)

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 2

Summary: In which Zagreus gives you your first nectar. Along with a gift. “If it’s not to your liking, I can exchange—”

WC: 1k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones, technically it’s succubi magic aura, Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut

AN: I imagine even in the Underworld and Olympus there's disparities between gods, demons, nymphs, etc

—

If there’s one constant about the Underworld, it’s that time works differently than on the surface, so you’ve learned when you first came into existence. It could be days, weeks—or whatever’s the Underworld equivalent to such a concept—before you see the peculiar man again. Which is why you already resign yourself to the fact you’ll never see your food again.

Maybe you should be more disappointed, you think, alone save for the green flames crackling at your hearth, melodic as it echoes across your humble chamber. After all, you did lose a meal, a rarity mind you. But if what he said is true, that Tartarus led him to you, not one of your bosses, then perhaps he doesn’t deserve to be consumed like the others.

Shame. He would’ve been delicious, you sigh, remembering lean muscle and genuine eyes with embarrassing clarity.

You shake yourself. Next time, if there is to be, you’ll get him.

You step back to glance over your piece. The same work in progress you had up when you met the man now stands before you, set on your easel just about finished. In your hand, you fiddle with a small brush, still soaked in gray paint as you ponder whether more final touches are needed. Tartarus stares back at you, layers of stone chambers and tombs descending down and deep into the canvas in black, white, and green in first person: the view from your balcony. You take the canvas in your hands, drinking in every detail as you hold it to the firelight.

With finality, you nod.

And toss it into the fireplace.

“What are you doing?“

Well—try to.

You jump, a flash passing you in a gust of wind as the air crackles around you like thunder. The hairs on your arms and back of your neck stand on end.

Shadows sharply contour his face as he stands before the fireplace, your painting softly clutched in his hands. Red and green eyes gaze at you, incredulous, as if the Goddess of Insanity herself has touched you.

You return his stare, just as baffled, “What am I doing? What are you doing?”

“Saving a masterpiece, apparently,” Brow knitted, he turns the canvas over a few times, checking for any scorch marks, any bits that might have touched the flames. None. It’s unharmed.

You snort, “Please. How long have you been here?”

“I just arrived. Right on time too,” He sighs, setting it back on the easel with something akin to pride before turning back to you. He smirks. You want to smack it right off him.

“What?”

He points to his hair. You bring a hand up to your own, feeling strands sticking up like gravity no longer exists.

And your horns.

You gasp, turning away, but that only further displays your wings and tail as you smooth your hair down, fingers barely grazing your horns before they all disappear in the blink of an eye.

Once you right yourself, you face him again and shoot him a withering glare, vertical slit pupils thinned into twin needles. He only grins back.

"Are you not… bothered?” You grimace, crossing your arms over your chest.

He tilts his head at the question. “What? That you’re a demon? Of course not.”

Demon, not succubus. Still unaware as ever.

You’re not sure why, but you breathe easier.

In the harsh light of the fire, there’s a glow to his form, one that hadn’t been there the first time you met. The atmosphere seems charged around him, almost electric as he stands poise—regal—his posture near perfect, and you faintly wonder if he was a prince in his past life. You can definitely see it; him in a castle, dressed in the best refinery humans could offer. With subjects that’d swoon if he graced them with the same boyish grin he’s giving you now.

You blink, quiet realization rolling over you like a thick fog.

Zeus’s blessing. He’s got boons from the King of the Olympians.

Your eyes narrow. Who the hell is this guy?

… Meh, not your business.

“While I have you here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you,” Breaking your train of thought, he offers his hand.

In his calloused palm, a bottle of nectar gleams in the firelight.

Without thinking, you take it in your hands, blinking dumbly as he scratches the back of his neck, abashed. “I know it’s not much of a gift, but I realized how insensitive it was to have barged into your home as I did. Consider it my formal apology and repayment for allowing me to use your fountain.”

When you only stare into your hands, he adds, voice audibly dejected, “If it’s not to your liking, I can exchange—”

“No!” He raises an eyebrow and you flush, cradling the bottle to your chest. “It-it’s not that. I…” Your thumb brushes against the smooth fabric of the ribbon, and you wonder if he’s actually an Elysian warrior who somehow wound up in Tartarus, because no denizen of the lowest rung of the Underworld would just give nectar. It may be contraband, but it’s also a luxury, only meant for the Elysium-bound, for gods, for… people unlike you. Wretches, demons; you’re the last to even think of consuming this liquid gold.

And despite all that, he just hands it to you like a tradeoff between friends.

Your heart expands. Friends.

Or maybe he really is just that unaware and naive.

Still, your voice comes soft as you grin, wide enough that your canines gleam, “Thank you for the gift. Truly.” He grins back, and your eyes dart around the chamber. “But I don’t have anything of value to give in return.”

He shakes his head, the laurels on his crown flickering with the movement. “No, no, gifts aren’t a mutual exchange.”

“I insist.”

He meets your gaze, and in the seconds it takes for him to realize you have no intention of letting him leave empty handed, his shoulders slump in defeat.

You smile, knowing you’ve won as he glances around before his eyes stop. “Then how about your painting?”

You tense, turning to the canvas you tried to burn not even ten minutes ago. “That thing?”

“That thing is a masterpiece,” He shoots you a pointed look before he studies your work. “I don’t understand why you’d try to rid the world of such beauty.”

“It’s not… accurate enough, perfect. It’s still missing something,” You gesture lamely around you, to the works-in-progress to near finished pieces. “Most of my works are.”

“Well, if you still intend to burn such a fine piece, I’ll take it off your hands. Hang it up in my gallery, perhaps.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking.

But you consider him anyway, then sigh, “Fine. Give it here.” When you reach for the painting, he takes a slight step between you and the easel. Protective. You scoff, “Oh, calm down. I promise not to throw it to the fire.”

“Swear on the gods?”

You roll your eyes, “May Lord Hades himself strike me down.”

That seems to satisfy him because he backs off, though he hovers over your shoulder, as if you’ll go back on your word and chuck it into the flames. He’s at least a head taller than you, enough for him to comfortably rest his chin on your shoulder if he felt like it. Despite the sliver of space between you, he’s a furnace, and you ignore the warmth emanating from him, fighting back a shiver and letting him watch as your fine-tip brush curves and loops with your signature lilt. A moment later, you step back with a content nod.

He moves beside you, sounding out the letters slowly. “’(Yo-ur Na-me)’?”

“My name.” When he looks at you, red and green eyes big with wonder, like you’d just unlocked a hidden treasure trove, you raise a brow, “What? I figured if we’re going to see each other more, the least I could do is give you my name. Besides, I’d much rather have my work burnt to ashes than give someone the chance to take credit for it.”

For a split second, he stares at you blankly, but it’s long enough that your stomach drops. Maybe you read him wrong. Maybe he wasn’t looking for a new friend, and he really was simply apologizing for intruding before. Your lips part, an apology on the tip of your tongue—

“Zagreus.”

You blink at him. He’d spoken too fast, not even your sharp hearing caught it. “Huh?”

“My-my name. It’s Zagreus. But my friends call me Zag,” He says, though he glances away, hesitant. When he looks back at you, he studies your expression, almost… afraid. Or perhaps concerned?

You can’t fathom why as you offer him a genuine smile, not a flicker of recognition on your face. “Nice to meet you, Zagreus.”

—

AN: The painting you give Zagreus is the Tartarus painting from the game, if that wasn't obvious 💁🏽

[witchthewriter]

𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Paid story for @yourwinchesterbros. Word Count: 2k Warnings: swears, reader is currently kidnapped, violence, mentions of blood, guns, cigarettes etc

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

(I know this may be a small thing, but reader is always titled ‘Zo’ rather than ‘the girl.’ It’s a small detail that I included because the Sons have a lot of respect for Zo. She’s not some random girl, she’s their Zo.) 

 The air was crisp, and when the Scotsman spoke, it was as if fire was rising from the pit of his stomach, turning to smoke as he spoke.

“You sure about that lad?” Chibs said and almost like a call to war, the Sons whipped out their weapons and pointed them at the opposing men.

  “Fuck,” one of the men grunted. You smiled, not being able to help it.  

The crickets weren’t chirping any longer. Their breath held just like the men behind you.

 These idiots had gotten in way over their heads. It’s what happens when a boy gets too big for his boots. Thinks he’s a gangster. Maybe the instigator grew up rich, maybe he idolised these types of men, or maybe this was retaliation. Whatever the reason, the Sons couldn’t give a fuck.

  Plus, the one you attacked needed to be seen by a professional. And that definitely wasn’t in the agreement.

“Now, we want Zo, and you can have ye money,” Chibs continued on.

   With the guns aimed at their heads, the four men didn’t seem as confident as they were mere seconds ago. Knowing that made you smile even more. You were once scared, but now … well now you were flooded with delight.

                                                          - ✦ -

Jax couldn’t keep his eyes from you. Even from afar, he was searching for any major wounds, and he nearly lurched forward when he saw the blood. The sight of you sprawled on the dirt ground, cuts and scratches covering your exposed body parts. Part of him crumbled inside. Must have been whatever was left of his heart.

   “I said no injuries,” Jax’s eyes were ablaze.

“Oh – well, that happened before the call…and the majority of the blood isn’t hers.” The ‘leader’ said in an obvious fake-confident tone. He had rushed saying the last part. They knew just how fucked they were.

    “What-“ Jax was going to press for more information, but he saw the ghost of a devilish smile on your face.

    He smirked, already figuring it out. That’s my girl, he thought.

You caught his eye and winked.

 Like fuck you couldn’t handle this life. He didn’t know you, or your backstory. Nor the horror you had endured. This? This was nothing. That other night? You realised that it hadn’t had affected you as badly as you thought. You could function, hell, right now you felt on top of the world.

 But that was …

Fuck.

 It was because of Jax.

He instilled so much confidence in you. Like you came alight whenever he was near. Not like twin flames, but like you were the air that flamed his fire. But you could also quell it. He could warm you, but … also burn you. He had burned you. And this was why you were in this mess.

 Maybe he hadn’t realised just how much his words meant to you? He definitely didn’t know how long you had yearned for him. So his dismissal felt like the end of the world.

It was like he could read your face, the thoughts so clearly askew on your dirt-covered features.

  He really meant something to you.

Jax felt a sharp pang in his chest, and he felt like… crying.

 You deserved so much better. And he didn’t feel good enough. That he couldn’t provide anything that would satisfy you. Not completely.

                                                             - ✦ -

  “Okay, okay,” your almost-lover lowered his weapon, motioning for his guys to do the same. They did so, albeit slowly.

 “Up,” he whispered, that cologne had excited you only hours before, and now it disgusted every part of your body.

 Grabbing you underneath the armpit, he roughly got you to your feet. You stumbled and he gripped you harder. That’s when you swung the rock sharply at his face.

“Fuck YOU!” You screamed. The anger boiling over. Like a pot on a stove unattended, the lid rattled and water sizzled.

      “AH! FUCK!” He shrieked, dropping his gun entirely, and covering his dripping face.

Then shots rang out, loud and echoing.

  But the man was still screaming, and you didn’t stop your attack. Bullets be damned, you were going to get your revenge no matter what. He wasn’t going to walk away from this unscathed.

You hadn’t waited for hours for nothing. You weren’t a damsel in distress. You were a viper lying in wait.

  Your arm was brought up then down, up then down, over and over. Smashing the man’s face in.

“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!” You screamed it over and over. Until his face was … no more.

   “Zo, zo, Zoe!” Familiar hands were on you now. A familiar smell, warmth, voice.

It halted you. Someone had turned down the heat on the stove, until it was completely off. The water had stopped boiling, all that was left was a lidded pot with warm water.

You sagged in his arms.

 “It’s okay,” Jax said, taking the bloodied rock from your hands. At some point you had started crying, the tears trailing clean lines down your dirtied face.

You let him pick you up and walk you to the other Sons. Turning your head, you realised that the sound of bullets were your men killing your captures.  

And that meant … you were safe.

                                                               - ✦ -

The ride back was a blur.

 Tig had wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, because as soon as you got in the car, you started shaking. Shock, the cold – whatever it was, they were worried.  

  “I-I’m fine,” you mumbled, but clutched at the scratchy blanket and hugged it closer around your body.

  “Any longer out there and the cold would’ve killed her,” Juice said to Happy, whose nose flared in response.

The ride was silent, no one asked you any questions. You had changed the course of action with your decision to bludgeon someone to death.

 No one batted an eye at it. The man deserved it. And a few prospects would be out there in a few hours to clean up the mess. She’s gonna be fine, Jax thought. His eyes were full of concern.

 When they got back to the clubhouse, they all jumped out and helped you inside.

Like a watch dog, Happy didn’t leave your side. Chibs had started you a hot shower, a mug of tea and some buttered toast. (The only food the clubhouse has - Chucky hadn’t been grocery shopping yet).

Who knew bikers could be such mother hens?

                                                           - ✦ -

     Chibs had run the shower in Jax’s room.

   You halted in the doorway, and the blonde-haired beauty motioned for you to come in. You didn’t notice the mess, your head too fuzzy to think clearly. It wasn’t as messy as Jax’s bedroom at home. Chucky made sure to keep the rooms at the clubhouse at least somewhat presentable.

  You didn’t see the near empty bottles that were scattered on the bathroom bench. Cologne, aftershave, simple things. He didn’t stay here often. The boys had a home, and that’s where Jax stayed.

 The bathroom was steamy by the time you entered, and you sighed in relief at the warmth. The ensuite wasn’t small, but it wasn’t big either. A toilet, sink and shower with a window that so high up and small that no one could enter or exit nor see in.

  Jax held your face in his hands but your eyes were glazed over and he knew you couldn’t do this yourself.

     “I’m gonna help you okay? You tell me if you don’t want me to-“

You murmured a yes and that’s all he needed.

    Undressing you, he tried not to look at your … private bits… and helped you into the shower. It was the perfect temperature; Chibs had made sure of it.

Letting the water soak your hair, he got the wash cloth and cleaned all the dirt and grime from your face, hands, and body. Jax was being so gentle, so soft.

      His rings glinted on the bathroom countertop.

Using his own shampoo, he massaged it into your hair and made sure it didn’t get in your eyes. He made sure to wipe your hands. Dirt and blood covered them. By the time he was done, they looked normal.

     You were silent as he cleaned, not caring how he saw you.

There was a part of you that was shocked at what you did. You had beaten a man. Was it you that killed him or a bullet? Maybe he was shot so you would never know. Once again the Sons looked out for you.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” Jax’s voice was barely above a whisper. His hands worked as he spoke, rinsing you once again. You were washed a few times. You must have been covered in grime…or maybe he liked this. You liked this. You couldn’t deny it. The words weren’t coming out, but you knew what was going on.

 Jax kept speaking. Pulling you out of whatever hole your mind was creating.

“You don’t deserve this Zo. This is what I meant. Why I left,” he turned off the faucet and wrapped the fresh towel around you. Surprisingly, it was clean.

  “I handled it,” you mumbled, standing on the mat. Water dripped down your face, down your back, your neck.

Jax was shocked to hear you speak, as he returned with the mug and toast. He led you into the bedroom. Where clothes were laid out for you. A big black SOA shirt, boxers, and a jumper.

 Jax placed the food and drink on the dresser and turned as you changed. Giving you some privacy.

“You did.” His words hit hard. So hard. They were validating.

    “I did.”

When you were dressed, you sat on the bed and exhaustion hit you.

 Jax moved the food closer to you, and you took a bite, a sip and that’s all you wanted. You moved up the bed and Jax helped so you could wriggle underneath.

 You remembered your boys then, just as you got cosy.

“My dogs-“

   “I’ll get one of the guys to check on ‘em. You just rest.”

You nodded your head in thanks.

He still had his big boots on, no white sneakers in sight. You thought maybe he would get a shower too, but he just laid on his back beside you. Unspeaking.

     “Jax-“

“Just rest.”

                                                              - ✦ -

The morning light filtered through the curtains. But you didn’t stir. You slept, and no one was to wake you – Jax’s orders.

 Even as the hours ticked by, he let you rest.

   It wasn’t until 2pm that you woke. You started awake, unsure of where you were. But calmed instantly once you realised it was just the clubhouse. In Jax’s room… in Jax’s bed.

Your cheeks flushed when you realised that he had seen you naked. Flushed even more once you realised he had been so gentle.

Finding that your clothes were nowhere to be found (Chucky had put them in the wash), you tried to find … suitable … clothing. And trudged into the common room.

Everyone was there.

 Even Gemma, Wendy and the boys. You blushed so much you could feel it in your legs.

“Afternoon,” someone called and you just nodded. You felt so lost, until you saw that familiar head of blonde hair. The anxiety eased.

  “Hey, how you feelin’?” Jax had changed since last night. But he’d never left the clubhouse. Not wanting to leave you.

     “Ugh, I feel…rested,” you replied, eyeing Wendy as she eyed you.

“That’s good,” his hand gently held your cheek and you sucked in a breath.

    You looked up into his face and he stared straight back. Then his other hand went to your other cheek and swore the world stopped.

It was only you and Jax. You could feel it. Just the two of you.

    And then his lips pressed against yours. Soft and gentle, exactly as he was last night.

There was a round of cheers, whistles and cat calls. But you couldn’t hear them, because no one but you and the Prince of Charming existed.

[anonymous-dentist]

Pac bonding with Richas over their twinning prosthetic leg

It’s a beautiful day outside. No clouds in the sky, a nice breeze, not too hot or too cold, it’s just nice. Normally, Pac would be outside exploring on a day like this, but he and Mike are tuning up the train, and they needed to bring it back to the depot to do that, and so. Ugh.

At least they have Richarlyson with them. He’s been bouncing around playing music and grabbing tools and helping to the best of his ability, because he’s a smart kid when he isn’t acting like a little idiot like his Pai Cellbit.

But Richarlyson is sitting on the floor right now sulking, and neither Pac nor Mike knows why.

“Maybe he just misses Forever?” Mike suggests. He’s only halfway paying attention, his face shoved inside of the train’s stomach and his entire body covered in oil and grease.

Pac hums, a small frown on his face as he thinks. Forever has been gone for a few days, but Richarlyson hasn’t really shown any signs of giving a crap outside of some complaining when he’s been stuck inside the lab for too long. But even then they just need to go outside to the balcony for a few minutes and he’s fine. So…

Richarlyson grimaces, suddenly, and he starts taking off his prosthetic, and ooooh, Pac gets it.

“Be right back,” he tells Mike, who grunts in response.

Richarlyson tries to smile when he sees Pac sliding down the wall to sit next to him, but it’s pretty clear that he’s faking it, poor kid.

“Hey, Richas, what’s up” Pac asks.

Richarlyson pulls out his tablet and starts typing: ‘Nothing dad :D’

Ah, he truly is Cellbit’s son…

“You sure? Because…”

Pac trails off, tapping Richarlyson’s removed leg.

Richarlyson grumbles in his little dragony way and starts typing again.

‘It hurts’

“Yeah, because you’ve been running around on it all day. What did Mike and I tell you about taking breaks?”

‘But it doesn’t hurt this bad when I’m with Pai Forever’

“Wow, I can’t believe your leg hates me and Mike. What the hell?”

Richarlyson cracks a genuine smile at that.

“Or,” Pac says, picking up the prosthetic and holding it up against Richarlyson’s good leg at about where it would be attached at, “maybe you’re just growing. Look at this, it’s too short! No wonder it’s hurting!”

Richarlyson’s eyes grow wide. He takes his prosthetic back and turns it over in his hands.

Pac smiles and rolls his own pant leg up to the knee, where his own prosthetic is attached.

“See, look,” he says. He points to where the prosthetic is pressed against the rest of his leg. “It’s supposed to fit perfectly like this, right? To make it easier to move? But since you’re growing, your leg is growing, too, so your prosthetic is getting too small.”

Richarlyson nods, which is good because it’s been forever since Pac got his leg bit off and he still doesn’t really get how Mike’s fancy redstone prosthetics work. He just knows that it hurts when his isn’t on right.

“We’re gonna have to wait until you’re done with this growth spurt to make you a new leg, buuuut I bet Mike’ll actually add flame stickers to it this time if you ask,” Pac says, and Richarlyson beams and fist-pumps.

Yeah, Pac thinks, he’s a pretty good dad. Probably the best one, actually.

[countrymusiclover]

51 - The Lane Family Darkness

Part 52

Family is More than Blood

@secretdreamlandmentality

Jacob’s pov

I couldn’t believe my sister right now. She would never understand with her and her hybrid husband being able to keep making babies. I decided to take matters into my own hands and figure out the spell that Klaus's dead mother used that gave her the ability. Stomping through the woods I removed the duffel bag off my shoulder and sat it down on the hard dirt. “This should be a good enough spot.”

“Care to tell us what we are doing out here, J?” Hayley asked me, arms over her chest.

Andrea, my daughter , tilted her head in confusion. “Yeah dad. You said you needed help but with what I don't get.”

“I need you to siphon the magic out of this.” Rummaging around in the duffel bag at my feet I drew out the Ascendent that I had taken from Josie and Lizzie when they had brought it back to the school.

My wife Hayley eyed me. “Why does she have to do it? You’re half siphon witch too. So I suggest you start telling us what is really going on.”

“I have to do another spell once you have the magic inside of you and the spell requires the family blood.” I lied the best that I could knowing that dark magic hadn’t been good in the hands of Josie or my twin but she refuses to help me.

Andrea takes the Ascendent from my hands, closing her eyes beginning to chant the siphoning spell. “Magia tollux de terras…Magia tollux de terras.” Her hands on the object turned red until she dropped it on the grass and I saw black veins crawling over her arms.

Hayley gasped, stepping forward to touch her. “Jacob, what the hell are you doing to her!”

“Be quiet, Hayley! Okay give it to me, sweetheart.” Grasping my daughter’s hands in my own I drag a knife across her right palm, letting the blood drip onto our intertwined hands. She winced when our hands turned red and I started siphoning the dark magic from her. “In unum edito, dominus sae domina. Cuplas sino lieros. In unum edito, dominus - shit Klaus!”

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, Jacob!” The hybrid growled in my face, the fangs and veins appearing very quickly.

Hayley stepped forward asking. “Yeah what are you doing, J?”

“Urgh it's none of your business Niklaus - motus.” I grunted siphoning off of his forearm lunching him into the nearest tree.

He shakes his head with some wounds healing over. “It is my business when you are part of the reason my wife was terrified to take her magic back.”

“What's wrong with Aunt Rae?” Andrea asked her uncle with a lot of concern in her tone of voice.

Klaus rose up from the ground dusting his hands on his pants. “He hasn't told you because he doesn't even know himself. She's in a coma because of my idiot daughters who tried consuming the Dark magic inside of that.” He pointed at the Ascendent laying in the dirt.

“Dark magic!” Andrea cried out looking at her hands that once had the power inside of them.

Hayley glared at me. “Jacob Lane, how could you trick your daughter like that. And all for what?”

“So that we could have more children like we talked about years ago. Andrea doesn't deserve to be an only child!” I shouted back at the three of them with some of the trees around us suddenly bursting into flames.

Hayley stepped over to our daughter holding her against her chest noticing something on my arms. “J, if giving me more babies means you'll have to die for real this time then I don't want any.”

“Hayley I'll be fine.”

Klaus scoffed under his breath. “No you won't, mate. Look at your arm because I remember quite clearly that magic nearly killed your sister.”

“You’re just trying to talk me out of what I want. There’s no…marks.” I raised up my arm gasping under my breath seeing small thin black lines crawling up my arms.

My brother in law snarled. “I’m not bluffing anything, mate. Now either you are going to help me save my wife, your sister or you will face some very painful consequences!”

“Uncle Klaus, don’t hurt him.” Andrea begged me with some watery eyes.

Spinning around on my feet I snapped at my niece even though I didn’t wish too but her father needed to understand how selfish he was being to let his sister suffer. “I’m sorry, Andrea. Bu he refuses to accept the weight that his sister is suffering in agonizing torment and now he is only thinking about himself.”

“Shut the hell up, Klaus!” I yelled towards the hybrid, turning my hands into fists at my sides.

The hybrid vamped forward grabbing me by my throat and slamming me into the nearest tree that I hadn’t sent up in heavy flames. “Klaus don’t!” Hayley warned him with her eyes glowing golden but she remained by our daughter's side.

“Don’t worry, little wolf. He will heal you know.” Klaus held his gaze on mine intensely.

Andrea croaked out. “Uncle Klaus, don’t hurt him. I’ll help you save Aunt Rae.”

“Oh this is now about more than needing his help, dear.” His eyes turned dark gold following the dark veins and fangs of his vampire side coming through. “The reason for this chokehold is on the fact that I don’t understand why your father’s desire for having more children is overshadoweding his desire to help his sister.”

“I’m angry with her - that’s enough of a reason.” I winced when his fingers closed tighter around my throat.

Klaus pressed his nose against mine getting in my face. “Your sister was so broken up years ago when she was tricked to kill you. She would have gone through hell on Earth to protect you but you don’t seem to be the same. From where I am standing I don’t see how you two are related. You may share the same blood yet that seems to be the only thing you have in common.”

“Klaus, I get you upset. So just put him down and we can find a way to help you.” Hayley touched his shoulder before he moved his hands tightly around my neck more and snapped it where I grunted falling to the dirt at his feet.

Andrea gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “Was that necessary?”

“He needed to be taught a lesson and don’t worry he’ll come back you know that, Little Lane.” Klaus dropped his hands to his side eyeing the knocked out vampire. His phone vibrated in his pocket till he put it up to his ear. “Melissa, have you found anything?”

“Lizzie thinks she can help us.” The young heretic answered his question.

He responded by vamping away from the two other supernaturals. “Brilliant. I’ll be there shortly. This could have gone less violent if he just helped me.”

“Sometimes I really don’t like the Mikaelson family.” Hayley hugged her daughter to her chest while they waited for Jacob to wake up.

Missy’s pov

Remaining in a sitting position at my mothers bedside I felt a huge weight on my shoulders from not being there to stop my sisters from putting her in this situation. They had no right on not telling me in what they were doing especially if they knew about mom’s situation. Footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and the door creaked open. “Dad, Lizzie isn’t here yet. So we’ll just have to wait a second - Ethan what are you doing here?”

“I know you said that you don’t want me around sometimes because you’re worried about me getting hurt. But I uh…brought some French fries and a chocolate milkshake from the Grill.” He nervously stands in the doorway revealing a paper bag and a shake cup from behind his back.

Flipping my hair out of my line of sight I sighed. “E, I really don’t think - I can’t believe you remembered one of my favorite things from there.”

“Of course I remember. You are my girlfriend after all.” He walked over handing me the shake and then the bag before he sat down beside me on the bed.

Shoving my hand in the bag of fries I ate one talking with my mouth full. “Thank you for this. I actually haven’t eaten much all day given what’s happened with her.”

“Do you wanna tell me what is happening with her or not?” Ethan asked me, trailing his voice off.

Swallowing some more fries I shifted my gaze to my unconscious mother. Her hair was slightly tousled and you could see the black veins crawling up her body. “My sisters made her take her magic back when she wasn't ready for it. Now she's under some coma or something. And we're not sure if we can wake her up.”

“That's scary. But you’ve a Mikaelson. From what I've seem you guys don't go down without a fight.” My boyfriend responded before I sat my drink down and hugged him without saying a word.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and embraced me back with the same comfort level. “Thank you, E.”

Footsteps came into the room and so we separated from one another seeing Lizzie. “So I think we should be able to just siphon it out of here.” She sat down a Grimor on the edge of the bed.

“Siphon it into what would be helpful to know, Elizabeth.” My father vamped into the bedroom standing by her side seconds later.

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I don't know. I assume we could put it inside the Prison World that it was previously in.”

“Uhhh! My head hurts…” Everyone in the room quickly turns their heads in the direction of the new voice. My mother slowly pushed herself up in a sitting position holding the side of her neck.

I gasped with Ethan reached out to her. “Ms. Mikaelson. are you okay?”

“Ah! I will be once I…kill you.” My mother slowly revealed her fangs from her mouth. The veins under her eyes appeared as she launched herself straight for my boyfriend.

I screamed out. “Ethan!”

“Expello.” Lizzie gripped my father’s forearm siphoning from him, managing to create a quick boundary spell that my mom hit her forehead straight into.

I dragged Ethan off the bed and he sucked in a breath seeing my mother standing there up against the barrier. She pressed her hands against it, baring her teeth. “I didn’t think she’d ever do that. Is something wrong with her?”

“She definitely would never hurt you unless you deserved it.” I bent down on my knees seeing no injuries on him. Ethan grasped my hand in his slowly getting his breathing under control.

Lizzie pointed her index finger, gaining our attention. “Were her eyes like that the last time she consumed Dark Magic?”

“Get out of here right now. I’ll handle her and don’t do anything reckless or stupid until I tell you otherwise!” My father turned his hands into fists at his sides, instructing the three of us to leave quickly and we all scrambled out the doorway with me shutting the bedroom door behind me.

Raelyn's eyes turned black as night, slamming her hands against the barrier. “You can’t beat me, hybrid!”

“I’m not trying to beat you whoever you are that has passed the love of my life.” Klaus slowly stepped forward until he reached the barrier as close as he possibly could. “But I am going to get my wife back.”

Dark Raelyn tilted her head to the side with a cheeky smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure you don’t love me instead of the other Raelyn?”

“What do you mean by that, witch?” He snarled at her.

The heretic held her smirk when she spoke her next words leaving the hybrid in front of her speechless. “What I mean is you only think that you want goodness in your life. But the truth is deep down inside I can feel that you’re drawn to her darkness just as much as she is to yours. What do you say to that, hybrid?” Klaus just blinked his eyes wishing he could be staring back at his wife’s beautiful eyes rather than the mistress of darkness.

[supervisormeero]

❤️💥✨💌

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic? OHHHHHHH BOY. Uh. Um. (I can name some of my favorite lines my friends have written off the top of my head, but my brain short-circuits when I have to remember my own stuff.)

I'm still particularly proud of Frictious, and this line, specifically: "They’re the breath in each other’s lungs, and they’re the blood seeping from each other’s wounds." I don't think I've ever written a more concise and fitting description of what Syril and Dedra are to each other—at least in my view. I could launch into my Rant about how they're twin flames and how that term in and of itself sort of outlines the doomed trajectory of their relationship, but I wholeheartedly believe they're soulmates. They were destined for each other in every perfect, horrible way, and if they're ultimately each other's destruction, that'd be horribly perfect to me.

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change? I keep pulling out weird answers for this, and this barely qualifies as an answer to the question, but—I wish we could see what Dedra wears on, like, weekends. She and that uniform are almost the same entity in my brain; it's like her shell, like an exoskeleton, almost, and I have to wonder who she even is when she's not wearing it. What is her style like? I know it's sort of a joke in this fandom that Syril's all about high fashion and Dedra couldn't care less, but is that true, or does she also care about the specifics of fine tailoring when she's not in uniform? I can't see her wearing a dress, but... what if she wears dresses? I have so many questions.

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites? Funny you should ask me this, because many of my favorite comments are yours! Basically every comment you'd left me on Frictious absolutely made my day (or my week). I cherish any and all comments, but the ones that really delve into what I've written to say what, specifically, they liked or explain their interpretations of certain passages are just... I cry tears of joy.

Also, shout-out to @air-mechanical, @lighttailoring, and @hegodamask for just, like, existing? For being the best? Whether on AO3 or in my original drafts or in the tags on my posts, I'm so grateful for the kind words and feedback you've given me. I really do believe I've grown as a writer because I'm reading your works and learning from you.

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write? I'm not sure if this counts as a trope, but. Couldn't be a fic I've written if these idiots weren't awkwardly holding hands at some point. I don't know why I need them to hold hands so badly, but I do. I'm currently writing a fic where Dedra marries Syril as a manipulative tactic, and of course they've held hands. More than once.

Tony Gilroy, if you're listening... Cereal and Debra holding hands would fix me, I think.

Send me fic writer emoji asks!