#what if her true power is something different

[froggiewrites]

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day. 

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so. 

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze. 

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always. 

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you. 

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric. 

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–” 

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as– 

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are. 

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven���t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel. 

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it. 

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together. 

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands. 

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay 

[sol-iscus]

❗️Mild arcane spoilers ❗️

Miiight ruffle some feathers.

Not EVEN going to lie, unnecessary ship wars aside, the fan base has developed such a deep love and understanding for these characters (because let’s be honest, there are some pretty intelligent people giving eye opening analyses) that after the finale, it appears that we have a better understanding of them than the actual writers.

We deserved better as the audience after all the hype over the years, all the waiting, even after some episodes got leaked a while ago, most of us remained respectful and waited to see what this season would bring us. The core characters ABSOLUTELY deserved better as well.

It felt as if I was watching all of the characters’ development be erased in real time, or become sidelined and nearly mute after being propped up to appear as if they were going to have a significant arc.

With the amount of episodes we had, it felt like they were trying to cram a bunch of different storylines into one 9 episode season and that left us with annoying plot holes and rushed sequences.

And I’m just gonna say it.

If a certain relationship needed to be sacrificed if it meant that other characters had the proper development they needed and DESERVED, then I would have preferred that much, MUCH more than that undercooked finale.

Don’t. Even. Get me started on that caitvi scene. In the cell? Right after that conversation she had with her sister? Don’t give me that nonsense about how it’s vi reclaiming her power or something. (An actual weird ass statement from Amanda Overton in a Q&A video about how that was Vi reclaiming and working through her trauma in that cell).

No apology? No groveling for forgiveness? That little argument they had lasted like five seconds and didn’t even address the earlier conflict that happened in the show after cait left vi. And before any of you say “cait apologized with her actions”

I don’t care. Two things can be true at once, she can and should have apologized directly as well as displayed that with her actions.

Moving on to Mel??? We did not nearly have enough time to explore her new abilities as a mage, her armor, and her connection to the black rose. As I said, the storylines this season should have been more refined so we could focus on a central group of characters. They did nothing but hint at her armor from the end of season 1 all the way up until now.

Also maybe I’m hallucinating, but did we ever find out what happened to the firelight’s tree?? That’s one of the main reasons Ekko and Heimerdinger went to the lab isn’t it? HELLO?

Next on my list, Jinx. This girl has suffered to no end.

- Lost her whole family except for Vi.

- Almost died once and was brought back to life.

- Tried to end her life several more times

And you slap us all in the face by writing her off?

“Oh but she may not be GONE gone, look at the glitching at the end!"

I. Don’t. Care. It’s the principle.

I’m sick and tired of seeing characters that struggle with mental health and keep having one bad event after another happen to them, never receiving a proper ending. What messages are the writers sending with this? That death is basically the answer because there’s no hope for them? Cool. That was not an honorable act of self sacrifice, that was plain insulting.

Instead, if they still really wanted to have a Jinx redemption arc and a chance to rekindle her relationship with Vi, having her tap into engineering for the betterment of Zaun would have been the better route.

We should have gotten an extra extended episode since this is last season for the Piltover/Zaun region, and for Jinx and Vi's story. I really want to blame Riot for being greedy and possibly becoming too cocky with the popularity of Arcane that they think anything would suffice because It's Arcane.

[horizon-verizon]

To add to all this, people (deliberately in this fandom) mistake epigenetics when they try to use it against Rhaego; epigentics says that even though you can inherit genetic markers and predispostiions from your biological parents that affect your development, the experiences you will have during said development will have just as much influence over how that development goes throughout your childhood.

It's not "nature overpowers nurture every single time". It's "they work in tandem, overlap; life is complicated and despite having particular genes that can affect you, after birth your genes can be almost if not just as affected by your environment, thus nothing is 100% definite and unchanging or can be inherited perfectly as as it was expressed before"--something that which has been explored and found again and again in fantasy but esp sci fi fiction for hundreds of years. Epigenetics is the observation of how the environment can cause your genes' expression to be rearranged and even be marked to show at all or not. Epigenetics is not phrenology nor anything like it. It is not scientific racism nor eugenics. It is its opposer!

What does this mean for Rhaego? Rhaego is BOTH Dany' s and Drogo's biological child. Dany is not inherently evil nor is she bound for madness and there's no clue in text for such AND she has done no evil against anyone, including Mirri or her people herself. Drogo had been dying when Mirri cursed Rhaego to die; if she had left him be, he would have been raised by the queen regnant/conqueror/rape-banning-Dany, not a man who had power above her. And he would have been raised in the environment Dany cultivated for him, herself, and others. Because Dany is both compassionate in behavior and is not an innately mad or violent person...if one really tried to apply any idea of epigenetics to them all, he had all the chances and likelihood to be something/someone totally different from Drogo...duh! Anyone would be a different person if they lived in a different country or amongst a set of people/society than if they had been in another, that's culture's influence!!!!

People love to gloss this part over or twist the text into something it's not. They say/imply Dany's life is worth less than it is, or that it needs to be so bc she herself (when they want to avoid saying Rhaego was definitely going to be evil, rapist, etc.) was also eventually going to be mad like her father even though Targs are not predisposed to madness and actually few of them really went mad and even fewer went mad bc of some possible genetic condition. And under their consolidated-Westerosi-rule (when the different kingdoms were combined), there have actually been less war compared to before where these kingdoms warred every Tuesday. They weren't perfect nor did war end, but it is a fact it was reduced and thus their rule did not have a worse violently disastrous effect on Westeros!

It's actually a very racist arguement in of itself, to argue that one's parent's exact traits and more disfavorbale ones or that certain physical features spell evil in the person's very character and future behavior. That's racist eugenics, folks!!!

Besides asoiaf fandom being racist as per usual, this fandom' also is encouraged from their own desire's racism is propelled and informed by their desire for a more didactic and simpler reading of ASoIaF , or:

the flattening of a complex story into a reductive, didactic message of their preference people have correctly identified that despite the power fantasy of their conceptualisation, martin is not writing them as merely self indulgent, aspirational figures, but they've also overcorrected that into 'actually every element of their characterisation reveals one true didactic intent'. so, every instance of incest must be a metaphor for auto cannibalism, the dragons are only a nuke metaphor, the sense of superiority is a stand-in for supremacist ideology etc. [a post from branwinged]

Mirri Maz Duur wasn't thinking of the world when she went after a teenaged bride slave and her unborn child when she targeted Dany INSTEAD OF THE FULLY GROWN MEN actually doing the pillaging and raping. Dany was 14--her body was underdeveloped for pregnancy.

Mirri went after her bc that is what she had the easiest access to. The easiest accessed thing does not mean that you have actually addressed the entity that is the "root" and "cause" of all the evil done to you; it's just makes you feel more in control, and in Mirri's case, part of your revenge against someone like Drogo. Who had already been dying. She could have left Dany's child out of it, but she FULLY UNDERSTOOD that 14-year old Dany COULD HAVE DIED from her forcefully aborting Rhaego WITHOUT DANY'S CONSENT. As for Dany's vision of a purple eyed man with darker skin and her hair leading an army, what makes one think that it wasn't an army that was doing good as hers is/was doing?

They want so bad to see the Dothraki embody the violent "savage" stereotype that indigenous people's have had lobbed against them as the true colonizer's method, in justifying their own violence in destroying them altogether. Or to the point of difficulty of self-recongization and erasure of cultural meanig of "self". Under Dany, those that were the most vulnerable and left behind by the stronger that Dany became queen and savior of--through absolute necessity, they were going to die, can't stress this enough--the Dothraki people and the weaker slaves/unslaved became not that stereotype. Or at least moved away from it and can't be said to match other hordes. And that is why they continue to try to make all these racist arguements.

No I am not saying that Dothraki's culture is rape. I am saying that under Dany's leadership, her particular Dothraki horde are even moved away from the historical practice of enslavement just as "dracarys" is now often used as a freedom call amongst enslaved people. Her influence matters and is positive and is necessary.

What does "she has a savior complex" even mean? What do you want her to have done, leave behind all those vulnerable women and children (small or teen) to die out in the desert? Not try to free slaves? Leave Eroeh out to die in the desert when she fell ill? Be as sel-fconcerned as some of your favs? Not try to stop the Dothraki from raping and killing even before her husband got his mortal wound--when she had been just a bridal slave/khaleesi consort? What then, is a objectively good and non-savior-complex example of a leader in ASoIaF?! It seems people in this fandom--esp in this very thread--just want selfish or self-absorbed and self concerned leaders.

These people will be one stroke away from calling Dany a goody two shoes but then also say she's bound for madness and imply she has a festering evil core that will one day out! What they really mean to say is that she should have died so she doesn't intefere with the status quo of slavery or women subjected to violence or children subjected to anyone's violence--man or women.

To be completely honest

I would’ve done what Miri Maz Durr did if I were her.

You have the chance to destroy a mans budding dynasty. This man conquered your village and his men thought it was their right to rape you, and his wife thought making you her slave, was her saving you.

Then you get the chance to destroy him, his wife and his legacy.

I would’ve taken it, if I were Mirri Maz Durr.

[ellstersmash]

Prompt time! Solas and Athi discuss at length if the other would love them as a worm. Please and thank you 🙏

rare and marvelous

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Solas x f!Lavellan Rating: G for General now illustrated :')

-

“Are you comfortable in that form?”

Athi’s voice cuts into the quiet of the Fade and Solas’ own silent musings, the path they’re currently on less twisting, and therefore less mentally demanding, than most.

“This form?” he responds. “Or do you refer to another?”

“You know, most people don’t have to specify that.”

“I believe we can agree that I am not most people.”

Athi’s features scrunch together in amusement as she most certainly prepares to tease him—her favorite pastime, not that the Fade provides much of a variety from which to choose. “So true,” she says, the sing-song notes of it echoing in the shifting emptiness around them. “You’re very special.”

“Your approval of my circumstances is paramount,” he states dryly. “Which form are you currently curious about?”

“Your new—or, well, old—spirit form. It’s very… tendrily.”

Solas chuckles. “I can say with great confidence that I have never before been accused of being ‘tendrily.’”

“Love that we’re still finding firsts. Don’t you?” Athi nudges him with an elbow. The self-satisfied smile on her face makes its own light, her playfulness a beacon in the dull dark of this domain.

“You are right,” he says, “and I should hardly be surprised that you are still able to surprise me.”

“Or maybe you should be surprised by my surprising you, otherwise it’s not much of a surprise, is it? But back to my question: do you like to hang around as your tendrily spirit-self?”

“It is not so dissimilar to this one.”

“It floats.”

“Well, yes.”

“And you don’t have hands.”

Solas chuckles. “But many tendrils, as I’ve been recently informed. Besides, one does not need appendages to affect the Fade; only a capable mind and sufficient will.”

“Well, you need appendages to affect me,” Athi mumbles.

Solas grins over at her then, waiting until he catches her eye to lean closer, lower his voice, and ask, “Do I?”

She’s not the only one with the power to tease. It has the intended effect, of course: her eyes widen and unfocus for a few long moments, the air thickening with desire before she shakes it off.

“So is that a yes, then?” she asks.

“Yes, I am comfortable in that form, as I am comfortable in this one.”

“But not the wolf.”

This is not something he’s considered, and he takes his time answering. “The Dread Wolf was born of a specific need to threaten the evanuris and as a show of power and protection for those who would escape or oppose them. And, as you know, it takes a great deal of energy to maintain. I would not call it ‘comfortable’ by any stretch of the definition.”

“Cute, though.”

Solas rolls his eyes at her flippancy. “I refuse to dignify that statement with a response.”

“That is a response.” But she takes his hand and squeezes, warmth diffusing into Solas’ chest as her affection washes over him in gentle waves.

Some time later, it occurs to him to wonder why she brought this subject up in the first place. “Are you comfortable with my spirit form, Athi?”

“I mean, sure. It’s just new. And it is different, at least to me. Not as solid.”

“Different in a bad way?”

“No. I mean, yes in some ways. Harder to kiss you, for one thing.” She squeezes his hand again. “Also I’m never really sure which eyes to look into.”

“In truth, that form does not have eyes, or even sight in the way you’d experience it.” 

Athi looks up at him, a vacant expression which he can only classify as bewilderment on her face.

“There are other senses which allow me to perceive the world,” he continues. “Ones which are very difficult to explain to someone who cannot experience them, but rest assured that I know where you are and what you are doing, whether in spirit form or this one.”

“That clears things up less than I think you think it does.”

“I am sorry. Perhaps you might simply choose your favorite ‘eye’ with which to maintain contact as we converse.”

“Right, I’ll give that a go.” 

“Does it truly bother you? Does it change your opinion of me?”

Athi stops short, her hand still clasped in his tugging him to a halt in turn. “What? No, it doesn’t ‘bother’ me. It’s just different. And I have to be different with it.”

“But I am still…” He is unsure how to ask the right question, but feels it imperative that he discover the answer. “I am still Solas, to you? Even when I wear that form?”

“Who else would you be?”

“Does it change how you feel about me? Your—” It is still so hard for him to accept the concept that even forming the word is a challenge. “Your love for me?”

“Oh.” Athi’s whole being relaxes on a sigh and a soft smile. She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses two of his knuckles. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing can change that.”

“Well. That is a relief. Thank you.”

They continue along their path, but the quiet hardly has time to settle back in when Athi speaks again.

“Solas?”

He hums an acknowledgement.

“If I were in a different form, would you still love me?”

The answer is obvious, but he entertains the subject. “Temporarily?”

“No, I think permanently.”

“Of course I would. It is your spirit that I adore—though I am fond of your form as well.”

She laughs brightly. “Good answer! But what if it was really different? Like a fish? Or a worm? What if you woke up one day and I was a worm?”

“Is your spirit intact within this worm?”

“Let’s say yes.”

“Then yes, I would still love you. And I would learn to love your worm form in time.”

“Okay.” She’s silent long enough that he thinks the matter dropped, then: “But what if my spirit was changed, too? What if I had a worm spirit now?”

“That would be an impossibility.” Even more impossible than the premise, but he keeps that to himself. “If your spirit was no longer yours, but a worm’s, then there would be no you within it. I would cherish your memory into eternity, and leave the worm to live out its life.”

Athi gasps and stops again, dropping his hand to match her other one on her hip. “You would leave me?!”

“It would not be you, vhenan. It would be a worm.”

“But I would be the worm!”

“You’re not the worm. Without your spirit, the worm is just a worm.”

“What if I was always the worm?”

She appears genuinely distressed, and Solas isn’t sure he can reason his way out of a conversation this ridiculous. “Then we likely would never have met. You would not love me either.”

“You don’t know that!”

Solas sighs heavily, cradling his temples in one hand. “I fear we’ve stepped out of the incredibly hypothetical discussion we began and into a deeper one.”

Athi starts ahead without him. “You’ve certainly stepped into something.”

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel's mate is banished to another world by Amarantha. To a world she never knew existed. To a different world called Zenithara. She finds herself being stuck in Zenithara for many years. And as more time passes it leads her to giving up hope to ever get back to her family, her mate. It changes her living in such a world. She never once felt safe in Zenithara. But one day when she is given a mask. She finds herself feeling safe and concealed from the world. It gave her a sense of strength and power. Which leads her to persevere in the new world she was in.

But what will happen when she finds herself being sent back to her old world Prythian, to her home in Velaris? What will happen when she is finally reunited with her family… her mate?

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings -  Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Gore, Death, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Weapons, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. I also got some inspiration from some movies and tv shows. So if you see anything familiar.  But i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Author's Note - i really hope you like this fic. i gotta say this fic is very challenging for me because of the world building around it and what not. but i do love it. i hope you guys do too. that is all i can think to say lol.

─── Zenithara ───

─── Sky City ───

Gleaming lights were now in the night sky. A plethora of luminous lights is what Annamarie's gaze was on. She was watching the world outside of the large window beside her. Lights of all kinds down below and surrounding her. 

She could also see vast ships and smaller ships flying around in the night sky. In the sky of Zenithara around the 1st Sector also known as the Sky City. 

Sky City being located in the sky on a vast floating island. Anna never understood how the Sky City came to be. She was never good at retaining Zenithara's history. It never interested her or grabbed her attention. And ultimately she never cared for it.

Right now though she was watching the lights shimmer and the ships fly. Lights of different colors flashing and glowing. The ships of all sorts transporting goods and people to locations. 

She couldn't deny it was a beautiful sight. But it could be a bit overwhelming at times. As time passed though and the longer she stayed in Sky City she had gotten used to it. It has been a few years since Anna has been in Sky City now. And it was an amazing city but it wasn't her favorite Sector.  

Middle Ground, the 2nd Sector was her favorite. It was where her favorite home was. Well one of the three homes that she made in Zenithara, in the 3 Sectors. The homes that were just buildings she stayed in. It would never be her true home. Zenithara would never be Anna's true home. Her home is and always would be her old world. 

A place called Pyrthian, in Velaris. Where everyone she loved was, her true family… and her mate. They were somewhere she couldn't reach. No matter what Anna did she couldn't reach them. It seemed like they were worlds away. Well they were worlds away from Anna’s knowledge. Or more like Anna was worlds away being banished from Prythian.

Anna still remembers somewhat. She remembers bits and pieces of the days, weeks, and months that led up to her banishment. 

She was in Pyrthian. In a place called Under the Mountain. A place ruled by a cruel female named Amarantha. There was a masquerade ball that Anna had attended as emissary of the Night Court. Her being a part of the Night Court's inner circle. 

Being she was the emissary and it was an event to gain relations. Anna had to go. At the time she was attending the ball with her High Lord Rhysand. More so best friend or brother in her eyes. The event was pleasant… until it wasn't.

Amarantha the host had used the ball to her advantage. To execute her plan. A plan that was successful. A plan to steal a part of all seven of the High Lords powers. To get all seven High Lords of Prythian to submit to her. 

Which Amarantha had achieved. She was able to take part of the High Lords powers and keep them submitted to her. And she soon became the new ruler of Prythian. With her ruling it caused a darkness to wash over Prythian. Amarantha truly was a cruel ruler. She killed and torture innocent people. She abused people for fun. She took advantage of many and abused her power without care. 

Amarantha also liked to play with people and use them as puppets.The ones who she used most as her puppets were Anna and Rhysand. She seemed to get the most satisfaction with playing with the two of them. 

But Amarantha liked treating Anna cruelly the most. It was because of how close she was with Rhysand. All the Courts knew how much Rhysand cared for Anna. She was like a sister to him. Everyone knew because they had witnessed their brotherly sisterly bond at meetings and events. Being the two were High Lord and emissary to the Night Court they had to attend such events together.

So many saw their interaction, and saw how much they cared for each other. Even when they hid their true selves from everyone. They couldn't hide the care they had for one another though. They were truly best friends.

Having heard such information, Amarantha used that knowledge and their bond to her benefit. To control Rhysand, which worked on more than one occasion. She would beat Anna black and blue. She would make Anna work as her servant. She would torture her with magic and much more. Anna took such treatment with her head held high. She stayed strong for her Court, her home, her family, for Rhysand, and her mate. 

Even after a year Anna was still strong... mentally. Physically though Anna was weak. Her body and magic were weak. But she kept her head high. Anna knew she had to be and stay strong. Because if she didn't... Anna knew that the first time she'd let her head fall she would go into a downward spiral. She would break. 

Anna wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn’t going to let Amarantha get that satisfaction. And she wasn't going to leave Rhysand on his own. She wasn't going to let him shoulder all the weight by himself. Because she knew he had a lot of weight on his shoulders. 

But while they were Under the Mountain he didn’t tell Anna what he did or what happened to him. But Anna was always there for him and would let him lean on her. Much like he would let her lean on him. The two never really talked about what they did or what happened to them while Under the Mountain. But they did hold each other. 

They would whisper stories and reminisce on memories together. Speaking of their family and trying to keep their memories alive in their mind. So they wouldn't forget them. Rhysand more than once used the little power he had as a daemati to show Anna memories in her mind of their family, and her mate.

Even though a year had passed and they were still Under the Mountain. It felt like eternity for the two. Which they had voiced to each other and agreed it felt like such a long time had passed. But really only one agonising long year had passed. And it was one of those many mornings that they were leaning on one another that they laughed. But it soon was different. 

It was after a moment they laughed and during the early morning hours that Rhysand finally leaned fully on Anna. It was the first time he cried. And not being able to handle the weight, he told Anna everything. Everything that Amarantha had him do, and what she has done to him. Anna held him the whole time as he cried in her arms. 

But when it was time they had to separate and go back to their reality. Anna still couldn't believe what Rhysand had been put through. She couldn't understand why she was being put through such things as well. It caused Anna to be stuck in her head the whole day. Going over what was told to her by Rhysand. Going over everything she has been put through. 

That night was the night Anna burst. It was during a gathering and Anna couldn't take her glaring eyes off of Amarantha. Who sat on her throne with a smug look. Anna was furious. And most of all she was done. She couldn't take it anymore. The treatment. The torture. Everything. She couldn't do it anymore, sit back, watch, and be treated in such a way. And watch her best friend, or brother be treated like he was.

It was when Amarantha tilted her head back and laughed. As she ran her fingers down Rhysand's arm. Anna could now notice him tense. She could tell it was taking everything in him not to grimace at her touch. At that moment she was remembering everything he had told her, and all her own memories. 

It was that moment and that night that everything changed. 

Anna could feel her magic buzzing under her skin. And without realizing what she was doing she was taking steps closer to Amarantha's throne. Her glare never leaving Amarantha’s form. As she stepped closer her anger and adrenaline grew. So did her magic. As she stepped closer many around her could feel her magic and stepped away. Making a part in the crowd.  

Anna could only remember very few words that were said... she remembered seeing Rhysand's face. He had a look of fear. She remembered his muffled yelling. Seeming to be pleading with her to calm down. But it was too late. She had let out a powerful burst of magic aimed at Amarantha. Wanting to kill her.

But after letting her powers free Anna had fallen to the floor. The glasses she wore fell from her face. Her light brown skin was pale, more pale than usual. She and Rhysand having lost the glow in their skin since being Under the Mountain. Her whole body was exhausted and she could barely move. Her vision was more blurry as usual without her glasses. But what made her fearful was she began seeing black dots. 

Blinking, she tried clearing her vision quickly. Soon she was able to reach and find her glasses. Reaching for her glasses as she hunched over she was trying to get up. She was almost able to sit up when she felt a hand wrap around her throat. Then nails digging into her skin. She knew instantly who it was, Amarantha. 

Looking at her Anna could see her with a snarl upon her face. She had cuts on her face, her hair was disheveled, and her dress now had tears in it. What scared Anna the most was the rage that was in Amarantha's eyes. Not being able to see such rage she looked away.

As she did Anna was met with the room in shambles. What caught her attention instantly was Rhysand. He looked to be unscathed but he was now being held back by many guards. He had tears in his eyes and he seemed to be yelling. Looking in his violet eyes with her dark brown eyes Anna sent him a small reassuring but meaningful smile. As she saw him struggle more. Because Rhysand and her knew that this was it for her. 

Thinking of her demise, tears fell from her eyes. Because the first person to come to mind instantly was her mate… Azriel. The one she missed so much. The one she kept fighting for. The one she wished she could be in the arms of every night and every day. But she knew now it was never going to happen. It filled her with regret. She knew she shouldn’t have exploded but she just couldn’t help it. But now she was sad and angry at herself. But she was quick to shake the feelings away. 

Quickly for the first time in a year she found herself opening that golden tether that connected their souls fully. An accepted mating bond between them. A bond that they cherished and held close to their hearts. As she opened the bond, the first emotions she felt were confusion, love, and urgency. It was all Azriel's emotions. She then felt a tug on the golden tether. A tug she knew was his way to tell her to tug back so he could follow it. So the bond could lead him to her. 

"I love you so much," she whispered to him. She remembered saying in her head at that moment. She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. So she then sent all the love she could to him. Sending every bit she could. So much that she knew it may have overwhelmed him. 

Which it did, it brought him to his knees when he felt her love. The love he knew she had for him. The love he knew she held back from him. So she didn’t overwhelm him. It was a feeling that felt like a fierce wind had crashed into him. But after a moment of gaining control he felt like he was soaring up to the clouds close to the night sky above. Close to the stars that shined so bright. It was a feeling he gained while flying and he loved it. He had never felt it in such a way. And he wanted more. It made him want to go to his mate and have her in his arms even more.

Though Anna knew she may have overwhelmed him she didn't care; she wanted him to feel all her love that she felt for him. She wanted him to know at least one more time. And at that moment she was grabbed hard by the hair by Amarantha. Making Anna look at her. Anna was quick to steel herself. Not showing any fear. Not saying a single word. It was then that she heard the last Amarantha said. 

"Hm, killing you would be too easy. I'm going to do something much worse. I know how much you love Pyrthian, your family. So I'm going to send you far far away. Say goodbye to Pyrthian. Say goodbye to Rhysand. Say goodbye to everything you've ever known. Enjoy your banishment Annamarie Emissary of Night Court," Amarantha smirked at her. 

Hearing her words struck fear in Anna as her eyes widened. 

The last she saw was Amarantha's smirk upon her face, then she waved her hand. The last thing Anna remembered hearing was Rhysand screaming her name. As he tried to fight to get to her. A scream that haunts her till this day. Then the loud noise that sounded like the snapping of a whip and thunder behind her. 

She was then being pushed back by Amarantha. And then she saw a bright white light, and soon darkness engulfed her vision. She remembers falling harshly on the ground, then fainting after that. When Anna opened her eyes she was in another unknown world. A world she knew nothing about. A world she didn’t know even existed. The world of Zenithara.

"Hey Auntie Goldie, we got a mission to stop a load from reaching the Abyss, the Arena. You up for it?" 

Anna heard a deep male voice question her. A few steps from the side of the table she sat at in her room at headquarters. She knew that voice. It belonged to Evan. Turning she was met with a handsome well built, tan skinned man, with dark short wavy hair, and crystal blue eyes.  

Evan was a leader. But Evan also was Anna's nephew. They weren't related but she earned the respect and title. Having been in his family for years now. Evan was one of the few she has gone on many missions with in the past couple years. While she worked with G.H.O.S.T. meaning Guardian Heroes of Sector Three. 

A group of people who work with the justice system of Zenithara to clean up Sector Three, the Abyss. And sometimes Sector One and Two. But mainly the Abyss being it was the worst Sector of Zenithara. The worst of them all. The Abyss, the worst Sector, was located in the center of the planet of Zenithara. And the home of many criminals and horrible people. 

It was also where a place called the Arena was located. The Arena was a notorious horrendous place. It was a prison of sorts for all the Sectors. Filled with many horrid people. People who have committed horrible crimes. 

The Arena was a dark complicated place. It was never ending and had different levels to it. There were the holding areas where people are placed in holding cells. Then the judging area, where people were judged. People were then subjected to being experimented on. The worse the crime the longer the person is put through such treatment. Some people even end up dead from the experiments. 

But there were some who ended up with abilities. The abilities ranged from little things like enhanced hearing, enhanced sight, intelligence. Then there were some with dangerous abilities. Such as being able to control fire, the air, or enhanced strength. There were many powers and abilities that were given to people.  

But after such people survived the experiments, they soon had a collar placed around their neck. That would locate, read their body signatures, and electrocute them if need be. The collar being controlled by the Overseers. Overseers being the ones who controlled the Arena and observed everything that happened in it.   

Many groups of people were then placed in a very huge vast dark run down Arena with a dome. Ten people in each group and five groups were placed in different parts of the Arena. And soon the Killer games commenced. It was kill or be killed in the Arena. Every day these people have to fight for their lives while being watched by the Overseers. 

Once you were in the Arena there was now way out... unless you were the last one standing in the Arena. Once you win the Killer games you are taken out. Then placed in a living area for about a year then you had to go back to the Arena. 

Nobody knew these things about the Arena. Only hearing little rumors. The only one to know the most was Anna. She was the only living person to ever fully leave the Arena. After being in the Arena many times. 

The first many years of Anna's life in Zenithara was spent in the Arena. Being that the portal Amarantha pushed her through led her to land in the Arena. And it wasn't pretty those first years had changed Anna. She thought being Under the Mountain was horrible. The Arena was a true nightmare for her. 

But the last years were bearable once she met a certain blonde Overseer named Katrina. The Overseer was the one to change Anna's life. Along with another contestant. It took her years to escape the Arena completely with their help. The Overseer having been killed while saving Anna and the contestant's lives while they escaped. Which Anna was and would be grateful for. Never forgetting her. 

The contestant’s name who escaped with Anna was Evangelina, Eva for short. While in the Arena Eva and Anna stuck together. Helping each other. Eva helped with her high intelligence she got from experimentation. While Anna was the fighter. Anna having her fae magic enhanced after experiments were done on her amongst other things. 

The two grew close as sisters and were unstoppable. The two grew even closer when Anna found out that Eva was in the Arena because she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Anna believed her. She could tell Eva was innocent. And Anna wanted Eva to keep that innocence. Which was why Anna protected Eva and did most of the killing while in the Arena. While Eva did more of the thinking.

But when Anna and Eva were able to escape with the help of Katrina, they brought all their knowledge to the justice system. But there was only so much the justice system could do. Which led Anna and Eva wanting to help clean up Sector Three and take things into their own hands. They were soon telling the people in charge of the justice system. And in doing so the justice system gave them permission to create G.H.O.S.T. Which was very successful, and still running strong after many years. 

That is where Evan the II came in. He was Eva's grandson who took over G.H.O.S.T. after his father. Anna still helped the organization but slowed down over the past years. Having been in a state of grief after the passing of Eva. It took a toll on Anna losing Eva. Watching her grow old while she stayed the same. But Anna stayed by Eva until her last breath. Taking care of her and her family. 

Some time after the loss of Eva, and Anna having nothing better to do, but get stuck in her mind. Thinking about all she has lost. Pythain, her family, her mate, Katrina, then Eva. As an immortal Anna thought she better do something with her life. So she started helping Evan more and more over the years. Which he greatly appreciated her help. 

But looking at him now it reminded her of Eva. Which caused a wave of sadness to wash over her. Yes, he had blue eyes he got from his mother. But he had Eva's features, he then had her hair, and tan skin. Much like his father Eva's son. Who looked exactly like Eva, his mother. He was hard to look at at times. Bringing memories of Eva to her mind. But Anna pulled through like she always did. But right now a soft sad sigh escaped Anna's lips as she looked at him. 

Evan was quick to send her a smile as he sat next to her. Which caused Anna to turn to the window. Before he spoke again after receiving a nod to his question. Which was Anna agreeing to go on the mission with him and his team.          

"I got some entail that says that the load is leaving on a ship some time before dawn. When the lights dim. They'll be using passage A tryin' to get to the Arena from above," Evan explained to her. Taking in the information Anna pushed her glasses over her scared nose.

Part of three thick lined scars taking over her face. Starting from her temple on the side going across her face, and ending at the other side of her jaw. A scar from her years in the Arena by a person able to shift into a creature.

"Okay," Anna whispered with a nod to Evan. Her voice was soft and never above a soft whisper. Being that she never really talked anymore. Her voice left her more and more over the years. Because she didn't feel the need to talk much. The only ones she talked to were Evan and his father. Having nobody else who would listen and never wanting to talk to anyone else.

"Alright wanna relax for a lil then gear up together when it's close to time for the mission?" Evan asked Anna with a smile. Looking away from the window again and turning her gaze to Evan she smiled with a nod. She enjoyed spending time with Evan. He always knew how to get her mind off things. And from the little memories she could remember Evan reminded her a lot of Cassian with his antics. 

"Awesome! Come on then Auntie Gold," Evan chuckled playfully with a wide smile. Before slowly reaching a hand to Anna for her to take. A soft giggle left Anna's lips as she took his hand. Letting him help her up. 

A smile washed over her. She was happy to spend time with her nephew. Who was now rambling on about his day. Which she caused her to laugh softly when he made big hand gestures, speaking with his hands. She was happy to have Evan in her life and also his father. They helped with the loneliness and lost feeling she felt while being in Zenithara. 

But little did Anna something was going to happen on this mission. Something that was going to change everything for her.

[shaiprsly]

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she’d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You’re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 14 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

The soft rustle of leaves accompanied the gentle trickle of water from your watering can as Cha Hae-In’s words hung in the air.

“(Name), do you know Hunter Sung Jinwoo?”

You paused mid-motion, the steady flow of water halting as you processed the question. The vibrant blooms around you swayed in the breeze, oblivious to the tension blooming between you and your visitor. You finally set the watering can down, resting your hands on the pot rim for a moment before turning to face her. “What makes you ask that?” you asked carefully.

Hae-In, seated on the nearby wooden bench surrounded by vibrant flowers, hesitated before continuing. “Hunter Sung did something while taking down the dungeon's boss. Whatever he did, a foreign magic spread out and healed the B-team's wounds. It wasn’t his magic, though—it was something different.” Her tone was calm, but her sharp gaze betrayed her curiosity.

You took a moment, carefully brushing invisible dirt from your gloves to avoid meeting her eyes. Ah, Jinwoo, you thought, a flicker of irritation crossing your face. Could you be a bit more discreet for once? You sighed internally, recalling how lost in the heat of battle Jinwoo could become. It was one thing to act like this in a solo fight, but with so many witnesses?

“The foreign energy wasn’t unpleasant,” Hae-In continued. “In fact, it felt… familiar. I couldn’t figure out why until I came here.” She paused, her fingers lightly brushing the edge of the bench. “Your aura, though subtler, feels similar to that warmth from the dungeon. And your lack of scent—there’s something about it that’s always made you stand out to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but your face remained calm. Hae-In was sharp—too sharp for her own good. You turned back to your tools, neatly organizing them as you spoke. “Yes, Hunter Sung is... an acquaintance of mine,” you admitted evenly, keeping your tone steady.

Hae-In tilted her head. “Then, did you know it was him I was talking about a few days ago?”

“No.” Technically true—she’d never mentioned his name outright. You met her gaze briefly, “You didn’t tell me.”

A comfortable silence fell between you as you finished tidying up and sat beside her.

“(Name), There’s always been something about you that I couldn’t figure out. From the moment we met, your lack of scent... I thought maybe you didn’t know why, either. But after all these years, I’m sure you know more than you let on.” she said softly. “But it’s never bothered me. From the moment we met, you’ve been honest with me in your own way.”

The sincerity in her voice was disarming. You felt her hands suddenly cover yours, and despite the gardening gloves, her warmth reached you. “I’ve always admired you for that.”

“You’ve always respected my boundaries. And I want you to know I respect yours too. I won’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer. But…” She trailed off briefly, her fingers tightening slightly around yours.

“I want you to know how much you mean to me. You were my first friend, my mentor, and…” She looks sheepish all of a sudden, cheeks flushed and all. “To me, you’re like an older sister. You’ve always been there for me, and I’ll always be here for you too.”

The warmth in her gaze was almost overwhelming. You felt an old, familiar urge to tease her, to squeeze her cheeks like you used to do, if not for her holding your hands at the moment. But before you could speak, the chime of the shop bell interrupted.

The sound drew both your attention to the entrance, where a familiar figure stood.

Sung Jinwoo.

He seemed momentarily stunned to see Hae-In before his gaze shifted to you, and last to your clasped hands. His usual stoic expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp in his eyes that made you pause.

You felt your hand grow warm under Hae-In’s grip.

You gave Hae-In’s a soft nudge, prompting her to let go. As she withdrew, you gave her a brief reassuring squeeze—a silent message that everything was fine. She smiled faintly, understanding you without words.

Jinwoo’s eyes briefly flickered at the gesture, but you ignored it as you rose to greet him. Plastering on your professional smile, you stepped forward.

“Welcome to Perennial Atelier!” you said with practiced cheer. “How may I help you today, Sir?”

“I need to speak with you,” Jinwoo said, direct as ever.

‘I’m working, you oblivious man,’ you thought, though you maintained your polite façade.

“(Name), I—”

Here we go, you thought, already bracing yourself.

“—want you to come with me to my rank reevaluation,” he finished.

You blinked, “...Yes?”

“Good. Tomorrow. 10 a.m. You know the place.”

“Yes?? Wait—” But he was already turning to leave.

His eyes briefly flickering to Hae-In before stepping out, the bell chimed as the door shut behind him. Slowly, you turned back to Hae-In, whose expression mirrored your confusion.

“What... just happened?” she asked, echoing your own thoughts.

---

Later, as you worked on a bouquet of yellow roses, Hae-In’s voice broke the silence. “For a moment, he looked…” she murmured, her fingers fidgeting with Trick, the butterfly perched on her shoulder. “…scary.”

You paused, glancing at her. “Scary?”

She hesitated, recalling the brief flash of Jinwoo’s narrowed eyes, “Ah, never mind!” she said quickly, waving her hands in dismissal. “I’m probably overthinking it.”

You, however, couldn’t let it go. As you continued to fuss over her for the rest of the day, Hae-In didn’t complain, leaning into your care with a small, content smile.

---

Why did Jinwoo want you here?

You deadpanned internally as you sat on a bench at a safe distance from the throngs of reporters swarming around the South Korean Hunter Association's evaluation building. It was absolute chaos outside, a sea of flashing cameras, persistent microphones, and shouted questions all directed toward the entrance where Lee Min-Sung was scheduled to appear. But, unbeknownst to them, today’s true headline wouldn’t be the latest appearance of a celebrity Hunter—no, they would soon be scrambling for something much bigger. Because little did they know, today marked the reveal of South Korea's newest S-Rank Hunter, one who would go on to dominate headlines and leave the entire world begging for any scrap of information about him.

You couldn’t help the dry chuckle that escaped your lips. Poor fools. If only they knew what was coming, they'd be thanking their lucky stars for catching a glimpse of Jinwoo now, before he became the recluse he'd be infamous for.

But seriously, why were you here?

It wasn’t like you needed to see it in person. You could have comfortably stayed back in your garden, observing everything unfold through your butterflies, which you’d sent fluttering discreetly around the building. That was your original plan, and it was a good one. So why did you let yourself be dragged here, standing on the periphery, surrounded by this chaotic energy?

Oh, right. Because Jinwoo had insisted. You scolded yourself silently. Why did I agree to that again?

---

The wait was tedious. You watched through slitted eyes as reporters jostled for better positions, their excitement mounting each time the doors to the Association headquarters creaked open. They were all here for Lee Min-Sung. Yet, as you watched the throngs of people fidget and chatter, you knew their focus would shift in an instant.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you spotted Jinwoo emerging from the building, behind him were none other than Baek Yoon-Ho and Choi Jong-In. The moment Jinwoo’s presence became known, whispers rapidly spread through the crowd like wildfire, and within seconds, the focus shifted entirely from Lee Min-Sung to him. The air was thick with anticipation as people strained to get a better look.

There it is, you thought wryly. The announcement of South Korea’s tenth S-Rank Hunter was going to be all anyone would talk about for weeks. The reporters were already scrambling, furiously making calls to their editors.

Despite the buzz, you remained where you were, hidden behind your enchanted mask, which helped obscure your presence among the crowd. You didn't want to get involved, and you certainly didn’t want to be caught up in this mess. I'll just wait until he notices me, then slip away, you reasoned.

Except, Jinwoo did notice you. And not in the way you'd hoped.

Before you could react, he moved so quickly it was nearly impossible for even the trained eyes in the crowd to follow. In a blink, he was right next to you, standing there with that infuriatingly calm demeanor of his, as if he hadn't just drawn every single pair of eyes in the vicinity directly onto you.

The crowd gasped in unison, and you could feel the burning stares of the onlookers. Even Baek Yoon-Ho and Choi Jong-In, who had been walking behind him, were left staring at the spot where Jinwoo had stood mere seconds ago. You could almost hear the gears in their heads turning, trying to figure out who you were.

Seriously, how tactless could this man get?

Gritting your teeth, you grabbed Jinwoo’s hand without a word. At first, his eyes widened in surprise—softening in a few miliseconds—before quickly turning into a wince when you tightened your grip, nearly crushing his bones.

“Jinwoo,” you said through a clenched, saccharine smile that could have fooled anyone else into thinking you were pleased, “get us out of here. Now.”

Jinwoo gulped, instantly understanding the gravity of your anger. Without another word, he activated his assassin speed, whisking you away from the prying eyes of the crowd. The sudden burst of wind he left behind sent hats flying and reporters stumbling backward, while Baek Yoon-Ho and Choi Jong-In stared on.

---

You only released your death grip on Jinwoo’s hand when you found yourself standing in his apartment. As soon as you were sure you were out of sight, you yanked your hand away, shooting him a glare that could have melted through steel.

“What the hell was that, Jinwoo?!” you snapped, voice barely contained to a whisper despite your fury. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

Jinwoo stood there, momentarily caught off guard by your outburst. “I… I just wanted to—”

“No,” you interrupted, crossing your arms tightly. “You don’t get to explain yourself right now. Do you have any idea how tactless that was? I told you I have my reasons for staying out of the public eye, and you—” You jabbed a finger in his direction, causing him to take an instinctive step back. “—you just dragged me into the spotlight like that!”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Sorry isn’t going to fix this,” you shot back, your voice tinged with frustration. “What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?”

He tried to open his mouth to respond, but one look at your expression made him swallow whatever excuse he had. The hallway was heavy with tension, the silence thick enough to cut through.

Jinwoo wasn’t used to seeing you like this—your eyes cold and distant, disappointment clear in every word.

“Why did you even ask me to come in the first place?” you demanded, your voice softening, but not out of kindness—no, it was the calm before the storm. The kind that promised you weren’t done being angry.

“I… I just thought it would be nice to have you there,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “I wanted… I don’t know, for you to see how far I’ve come.”

For a moment, you hesitated. Jinwoo’s sincerity tugged at something inside you, but your anger was still far from spent. You sighed heavily, your shoulders slumping.

“You know what?” you said, shaking your head. “I need space, Jinwoo. I can’t deal with this right now.”

Jinwoo’s eyes widened, and the look of hurt on his face made your chest tighten painfully. But you couldn’t let yourself soften. Not now. You had to stick to your resolve.

“I’ll check on you in a few days,” you said curtly, your tone leaving no room for argument. “But until then, don’t even think about disturbing me.”

Before he could say another word, you let yourself dissolve into a flurry of butterflies, vanishing from his apartment in an instant. The last thing you saw was the crestfallen expression on Jinwoo’s face.

---

Jinwoo stood there for a long time after you’d gone, his apartment feeling emptier than ever with Jinah still in school. He rubbed the hand you’d nearly crushed earlier, wincing slightly.

“Well… there goes my dinner plan,” he muttered to himself, staring at the spot where you’d disappeared. He couldn’t help but replay your words in his mind, feeling the sharp sting of your disappointment.

I really messed that one up, he thought with a sigh. And with you in no mood to talk to him, he’d have to figure out a way to make it up to you—assuming you’d let him get close again anytime soon.

Maybe a bouquet of spider lilies...

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [15/11/2024] -

[mikailakay]

But like I said there isn't anything that proves Lily isn't mediocre in personality. She is a normal person without anything special that would tie her to Voldemort. Her traits of stubornness and cold streak are traits any person can have. You implied she would be a better match for Voldemort than Harry just because they wouldn't clash but that would mean she has the same personality as Harry does which is not true at all. Harry has been through hell. He is used to danger therefore he wouldn't crush under Voldemort's will. His psyche is trained to withstand danger and Voldemort's antics. Lily would crush because she grew up to be a normal person with normal reactions. She cannot relate to Voldemort in any way. They have no path that would allow them to connect. It would all be just manipulations on Voldemort's part. She also wasn't abused. Just because she has a great knack for intuitive magic does not mean she has the right personality to match with Voldemort's. It is implied she is insecure and the interactions we have of her do not prove her supposed genius. It seems like she makes exactly the same judgements as Harry does. Like when she said to Snape he should be grateful to James for saving him. She seems to go along with the crowd and allow others to influence her easily. I feel like part of her insecurity is that she wants a social standing and to belong. And also if she was as magically powerful as you said we would definitely see or hear more proof of that no? There is not much about her that Voldemort would find impressive or worthy of interest either. He would probably find her easy to manipulate and use. She would be scared of him and see him as just a monster because they have nothing in common and nothing to relate to in the other. What my main point is also is just because a character is implied to be talented does not mean they are a good fit to be shipped with an other talented person. That does not guarantee a good dynamic or chemistry. What creates that dynamic is personality. The reason they would not work is because of very different life experiences and life perspective. And also because Voldemort wouldn't want to connect with someone he doesn't find relatable. And what seems to work in Voldemort ships the most is when he can relate to the other person or they have something deep in common. The path to him respecting someone opens when they can somehow understand him. There is not a person that understands him more than Harry - that is confirmed in the canon text. Lily has nothing that would make him respect her humanity. Her magic means nothing too because tomarry also doesn't work because of Harry's talent and like you said he and Lily share the same talent. Tomarry works for the many different reasons I mentioned in my text and Lily simply doesn't have that. I really don't understand your perspective sorry.

hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

[cemetegee]

The Tridentarii Power Shift System

Lately, I've thought a lot about the Tridentarii power dynamic. And I've come to some interesting results. My main point I will explain below is: Corona is not a "Third House Twin puppet" and Ianthe is not her "puppeteer". In fact there is no "twin in charge". But it's a little complicated to explain. While I could do it by presenting you my (very confusing) train of thought, I'll do it by first giving you the infos my subconscious apparently had when I started to think about it.

(Fun fact: your subconcious owns 80 % more information than your concious. That means that it's not even a bad idea to follow "your heart".)

To even think about their power dynamic we need to remind (or find out) their negotiating positions:

For Ianthe, it seems to be pretty easy. She has the ability to do necromancy and that's something that Corona needs of her. Maybe it's interesting that she doesn't seem to have interest in it, though.

It's something she needs, but she doesn't want to have it herself.

For Corona it's more complicated. She has no necromancy. But she does in fact have something Ianthe needs of her:

Ianthe doesn't want to be the Crown Princess. Being the Crown Princess is of course more than a title. It's about the whole social & representative aspect. It's therefore understandable that she doesn't want to do that - her social skills are terrible. But it means that Ianthe can't represent (herself and) the twin couple appropriatly and needs Corona to do that for her.

And that makes Corona's negotiating position way stronger than it seems like at first.

With that knowledge we can finally analyse the Challenging scene. Judith challenges the Sixth and Corona tries to offer Third help - and fails. And this moment is interesting:

As it's been pointed out before by others: Corona seems to be surprised about that. Ianthe contradicting her in public is no familar experience to her. She was expecting to get her way. Apparently, Ianthe wouldn't have questioned here before Canaan House.

And that shows us, that Corona has (had) not only pro forma, but in fact the control in public situations. It's not only for show that they tell each other they'd need each other. It was true before Canaan House. What we see confirmed in right the same scene:

Corona can take the lead over the talk and reprimand her. Their dynamic is not "one evil twin in the shadows and in charge" but more a kind of power shift system. Corona takes the public shifts and Ianthe takes the shadow shifts.

Before Canaan House Ianthe would never have questioned Corona in public. The only reason why she can suddenly do it is, that she knows that she will ascend to Lyctorhood and therefore to the First House. She knows, that won't need a Third House Crown Princess there. The scene doesn't portray their usual power dynamic. It's a break point. The power dynamic shifts during Gideon the Ninth.

But it was different before.

[kingeparr]

abt percy jackson's middle name - a long post

let's talk about percy's middle name, its implication and what is my headcanon for it!!

first a warning!! i know very little abt actual greek mithology. i've tried to read my copy of odyssey and illiad a total of 10 times and i CANNOT for my life understand that shit. having said that, my mythos knowledge is based on hours on wikipedia sources pages, greek miths articles and more. anyways, this will have spoilers of the Percy Jackson Universe by Rick Riordan.

having been warned, I should start with one point:

percy doesn't have a middle name in canon. From what we've known it's never mentioned a middle name at all, wich is not very uncommon in the PJO universe, as most character do not have one (from the top of my head the only ones that canonically have one are Rachel and Reyna (Rachel Elizabeth Dare and Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano))

BUT in most fandom fanfics that feature his middle name, he is called Perseus Achilles Jackson. Again, it is not canon, but it is so common that most people think it is true. Unfortunately, it doesn't make sense.

It's canon that Sally was the one that named Percy, and she chose Perseus, a son of Zeus, as her choice because he was one of the only Greek heroes that in most versions of the myths get to live a long and relatively happy life after their adventures. From what I've known most times Perseus dies of old age or ascends as a constellation along with his mother and his wife, Andromeda.

Now, what are the implications that we know of?

this will be mostly speculation and head canons, so beware!!

i don't think Rick Riordan ever stated, but it is possible to draw parallels between Percy and Annabeth with Perseus and Andromeda, essentially in their first quest, even more in the series. The same is possible to associate with other characters with names derived from Greek myths.

and, until now, all of Percy's quest he has come back alive, even if the world was ending or if he has gone trough Tartarus, he has come back alive.

As it stands in canon, it's often said that names have power !! saying gods, monsters or others names will call their attention, or give them power. it could be associated that those names with History, or a Legacy HAVE more power and purpose behind them. Ex: Castor and Pollux, Jason, could even say Leo etc.

that is great, and reforces that its possible Sally did something right about the naming.

now, next part is a FULL BLOWN HEAD CANON!!

to me, his full name is Perseus Ulysses Jackson. let me tell you why.

Ulysses = Odysseus

Ulysses comes from Odysseus, yes, the Greek hero hated by Poseidon from the Odyssey. Why would Sally do that? Same reason of why Perseus.

Odysseus, despite all his Odyssey, came back home. In the Odyssey, is said he will live the rest of his life peacefully, and apparently he lived mor 10 years as Ithaca's King. There is another myth where he is killed by his son with Circe, but ignore that for this post.

I think it would make sense for the way they both lived that even if Poseidon hated him, that Sally would have her son named after a hero and a general that even after everything he went trough he still made home, still had people who believed in him, even if Sally herself were not there to see him, like Odysseus' mother, at least he would be alive.

Someone that is selfish in a way if that means he lives. In the same way Sally calls herself selfish for trying to have Percy with her for more time during the years before TLT. For that she endured Gabe.

Not that she knew that of course, but the fates could be at work. I'm always fan of a good foreshadowing.

Now Speaking of foreshadowing, next topic

2. Ulysses - Roman name

Ulysses is the roman version of Odysseus, still has the same meaning and the roman version of the myth is not that different. Why roman, then?

First, because my Odyssey copy was with the Roman names and I was very pissed at that when I was 12 and tried reading it for the first time and discovered that the FUCKING ODYSSEY MAN WAS NOT CALLED ODYSSEUS IN MY VERSION, to my frustration.

ANYWAY, second point: Percy has a connection to the Roman since the first book.

In his classes with Chiron, Percy fights in Roman armor, swords and has Latin classes, and while that is all good and cool, i always found it strange of Chiron to teach Latin, and not Greek. Of course, it could be a ruse of Chiron to distance Percy even more from his greek side, while still helping him learn about the world. it could be nothing.

but to me is not nothing.

Percy has a weird facility with Latin at 12 that Jason did not have with Greek at 16. And while it could be argued that they did not have their memories, Percy was a 12 yo boy that CURSED IN LATIN in a time of distress. I bet they did not have classes about "How to curse in Latin" and i doubt Percy searched for that somewhere.

Percy is very connected with the Roman side of the demigod world, he feels drawn to New Rome, goes to the Roman Uni and he gets so wrapped in it he becomes PREATOR in like a week!! while Jason spent months on the Greek side.

Percy has a lot of participation in Both sides of the demigods being a kinda important figure in both camps.

now, a subtopic.

Percy Jackson: Son of Neptune

Percy is presented as a son of Neptune from the get go in camp Jupiter, wich he doesn't protest at any time (from what i remember), the thing is Poseidon IS different from Neptune specially their roots.

Poseidon is primarily the god of the sea. Neptune is the god of rivers, springs, and waters.

Technically, Percy should not have control of any type of water or rivers, his father is the god of SEA, saltwater. Even then, he can control even the rivers in the Underworld. He has such control of "water" that he can control ALL LIQUIDS! That is not Poseidon's domain, the control of Waters is Neptune's.

knowing this i like to believe the following.

Percy is the son of both Poseidon and Neptune. Don't ask me the logistics, i wouldn't know, and i don't care. HOWEVER when you add things up, it makes sense, in my head, at least.

In conclusion, Sally associates her son's fate with two heroes that go trough MANY hardships but get back home, are strong and live kind of happy lives after that. One of them is mainly Greek, being his first name, what he is primarily called. The other is Roman, it is there, but it's not mentioned, but it still is his name, and it gives him power.

Specially, when you think that the roman counterparts all have a child, except Neptune. Pluto has Hazel, Hades had Bianca and Nico. Jupiter had Jason, Zeus has Thalia. Poseidon has Percy, Neptune has no one? seems unequal and unbalanced in a way the gods wouldn't allow.

Not only that but why would Neptune "claim" or let be claimed a son that wasn't his when Rome hasn't been grateful or careful with him? His last child was scorned (i don't remember the name but it's said that they were basically blamed for earthquakes or something in the 1900)

as the series goes and percy draws MUCH MORE POWER from rivers and other liquids than from the ocean, and the time it took for percy to be born he could be powerful from both sides. he is the first demigod of Poseidon in 70+ years, but he is the first demigod rrom Neptune in 100+ !!!

it makes sense that even if he is called a greek, as his name evokes, he is connected and powerful on his Roman side. It is not a coincidence that people thought he was a god when he first arrived in Camp Jupiter.

It's a tribute for both his Roman and Greek sides, to invoke the names and fates of two powerful kings that are burdened with responsibility, and that learned and lived after their quests.

i could talk about this for hours, specially if Epic's Odysseus by Jorge Rivera-Herrans is taken in account (wich I am doing) but I will not elaborate

anyway, Percy's middle name is Ulysses and I'm right, idc.

[wegog]

You have no idea how much I need to see Himawari with Red Eyes and Fangs.

Give her a KCM! (Kurama Chakra Mode)

Let her be unhinged!

Hell yeah!

Himawari deserves her power up! She deserves to have an opportunity to defend her love ones!

[haus-der-mysterionmusen]

“What idiots! How stupid do you have to be to think that fighting other humans is worthwhile? The true power of the human race can only be achieved when the human race is united in a common cause. These days only the stupid or antisocial attempt to wage war against other humans.” Asuka says dismissing such people with a wave of the hand. Her world was so different from Sado’s that it was difficult even for a genius science prodigy to understand.

“Come on Asuka it’s not like our world is all that great either. People are probably the same everywhere we’ve dealt with a people who want to replace us and fight the angels themselves before…” Shinji interrupts, he hopes the Gundam pilot wasn’t insulted by Asuka calling his commanders idiots and figured he should say something.

“Yeah like that Mana girl who tried to seduce you and you fell for it.”

“I uh I guess I should be more surprised probably… I uh… we don’t really get the science behind anything that the angels or the Evas are capable of for that matter. It’s just that we’re used to dealing with the things like that around here to everyone else it’s probably too weird.” Shinji replies with a sigh. It seemed to simple to just think that the green energy used by Sado’s robot was related to the AT fields used by the Evas and Angels just because it managed to break through one.

“Although if your world has a threat comparable to the angels then I’m uh sorry to hear about it. I don’t understand why humanity always seems to be fighting against things that we can’t understand…” Shinji was attempting to picture something that was a cross between an angel and the dinosaurs from his 6th grade science textbook and the resulting image certainly seemed horrible.

“The angels are humanity’s natural enemy. They want to cause the extinction of all life on earth, you better believe if they manage to destroy Tokyo 3 than they will find a way to make it to the version of Japan you’re from, but in this world humanity joined forces to create a weapon to take the fight to them. The Evangelion Units! Our Evas are much more advanced technology than something as old fashioned as a tank. They are the product of all of humanity’s knowledge after all.” Asuka says triumphantly. She didn’t just want to brag, but she couldn’t stand how not only Shinji but also the new pilot seemed to be so melancholy.

“I have no doubt that if my Unit 2 and I were in your world some stupid dinosaur wouldn’t stand a chance against me! Besides the human race itself should be just as capable in our absence. What’s to keep the those back in your world from creating technology more similar to our Eva Units? I mean really are all male pilots prone to overthinking things? What matters is action. Elegant and decisive action!” She continued pointing her finger at Sado’s chest and glaring at him.

“Asuka…” Shinji couldn’t help but smile at Asuka’s confidence.

[markerofthemidnight]

Currently lying in bed and coming to the slow, dreadful realisation that Wiggly x Miss Holloway is actually a really fascinating idea for a crackship.

I thought of this, so now you all have to think of it too.

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐍𝐘𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀 ~ Chapter One

Summary - This is a story of an unlikely love. A story of a love between two people. Their love was so strong and chaotic. But pure that no one could compare. He looked at her as if she hung the stars. She looked at him and saw all his flaws but still loved him. She was his light in the constant darkness that surrounded him. He was the darkness she needed to see the stars. A story in which the light falls in love with the darkness. The light being Annamarie who was a shy and quiet yet powerful high fae. And the darkness being Bryaxis the monstrous creature that lurks in the deep lower levels of the library beneath the House of Wind. The two became an unlikely pair and are inseparable from the start.

Pairing - Bryaxis x Female!Oc

Universe - pre acotar - acowar [it may go into an au after acowar not sure yet though]

Warnings - ACOTAR - ACOWAR spoilers, Blood, Gore, Death, Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Mention of Past Abuse, War, Things Will Be Slightly Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds,More Will Be Added If Needed. (Please do not read if these are triggers)

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR - ACOWAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. And i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Author's Note - idk how to say it simple but i just wanna point out that Bryaxis will sorta be a oc cause there's only a few things written about him from my research and wwhat i read yk and what not. so just if you don't like how i portray him just please don't read or if you have something to say on how i do portray please be nice. so yeah that's all i gotta say on that subject.

The words across the page of the book had Annamarie's full attention. She was reading or soaking up the words of the adventure happening on the pages. She was happy to be able to escape into the pages of the book. She was happy to finally be able to relax and feel somewhat safe. But as she thought about such safety she began to think about her past.

It wasn't too long ago she was being abused and used. It was all for and because of her magic. She was a high fae from Hewn City. But she was different. Her parents were the cause of it.

Her mother was from Hewn city. A high fae with the rare abilities of a daemati. Who had a secret relationship with Anna's biological father from Day Court. Who had the magic of healing and manipulation of light. Being a relative of Helion himself, his younger brother.

From what her grandfather had told her. Anna never truly knew if it was true. Being that her mother died giving birth to her. And from rumors her father was assassinated. But Anna was born with all of said abilities, along with the ability to move things with her mind. She was very powerful. So Anna thought that it must be true about what he told her about her parentage.

All Anna knew was that her grandfather, finding out about such a relationship, was furious. And seemed to be even more angry that he lost his daughter. Which also fueled him to treat Anna cruelly and horrible. But every time her grandfather hurt Anna he made her heal herself, or he would forbid her from doing such a thing.

Anna would have tried to run away. But she had nowhere to go. She was scared. And even if she was going to, she couldn't. Her grandfather had her locked in a room for most of her life. The room being heavily spelled. So she was stuck and had no clue what to do.

That is until her grandfather wanted to marry her off to a male. Who was terrifying and horrible. Anna wanted nothing to do with him. So she did all she could to get out of said marriage. She tried so much to gain her freedom; she tried breaking out of the room, she tried to make a bargain with anyone, she tried begging. She tried everything.

That is until she was at a ball of sorts. A ball thrown but the High Lord of Night Court himself. Her first ball and first time out of said room. Her grandfather was cautious though. He didn't want to lose her. So he made her wear bracelet-like chains and a necklace that were all spelled so she couldn't use her magic. It also binded her to her grandfather so he knew where she was. She was truly trapped. And would never gain her freedom.

The night of the ball Anna was able to escape just for a moment. She didn't care about the consequences. She just wanted to be free before she was trapped in another prison with a horrible man who would be her husband. She found herself in the corner of a far away hallway. Once she knew she was alone Anna slid to the floor and hugged herself as she wept for what felt like forever. She took that moment to pray to the Mother to give her freedom. In the midst of her crying and praying she was found by none other than the High Lord's Spymaster, the Shadowsinger, Azriel.

That night she was rescued by Azriel, him having helped Anna find her freedom. It was after she told him of her horrible life of the chains that were wrapped around her. Of the scars that she had. He listened to everything she had to say. Azriel then promised he would help her, and he did. He took her away. He took her to the most gorgeous place she has ever known... to the City of Starlight, the Court of Dreams, to Velaris.

And that was where Anna was right now. More specifically in the library under the House of Wind. It had been a couple of years since she had found freedom with the help of Azriel. Who she was grateful for, one of her closest friends. He was the brother she always wanted, and more.

He was always there for her, as she was there for him. If they needed someone to talk to, they were there for one another. Even if they just needed someone to sit in silence with, they would be there. They were each other's family. Their bond together was precious to them, and they wouldn't change it.

They told each other everything; their secrets, their fears, and hopes. They were each other's confidants. When Azriel couldn't go to the inner circle, his other family members, he would go to Anna. Which everyone knew. Anna knew the inner circle and she was close with them all. Everyone had their own friendship with Anna. But she wasn't closests with Azriel.

Which was who she was with right now. Azriel was finishing his reports while Anna read from her book. Both sitting on a comfortable couch. Anna had her legs in his lap as he worked. That is until Azriel stiffened. Anna knew then and there he was talking to Rhysand. He then shifted and turned his attention to Anna.

"I'm sorry Anna. I have to go on a mission," Azriel informed her.

"Again. You know it's okay to have some time off right Az," she stated with worry. She didn't want him to go. But Anna knew she couldn't stop him from his missions, from his duty as the High Lord's Spymaster. She had to let him do what he does best. He was the best at what he did. That doesn't mean she didn't worry about him though. And Azriel knew she did. He knew she was worrying for him right now. Which led him to send her a smile.

"Yes. But he's worried about the celebration that is to happen Under the Mountain soon. I will be back though. Then we can talk about the book we're reading together. How does that sound?" Azriel grinned. Trying to sooth her worry.

"Really! Okay! Okay! Just be careful. If you get hurt let me know. And I'll make you some cookies when you get back," Anna beamed. She was then moving to hug Azriel which he returned with a chuckle.

"I'd like that very much, sunshine," he smiled. He was then gathering his things with his shadows and was on his way to his mission. As Azriel left he hugged Anna placing a kiss upon her head. Which caused Anna to giggle. As such a moment happened between the two friends it seemed someone was watching with a glaring gazes.

But Anna was oblivious of the pair of eyes on her. Because she was soon sitting back on the comfortable couch, and was soaking up the words from the book in her hands. After some time though her attention was shaken from her book that she was still reading. By the calling of her name.

Looking up she was met with a very pretty priestess. She was a brunette with dark brown eyes and olive skin. Anna knew who it was, having spoken to her a few times and having seen her in passing more times than not. Her name was Iris. Anna was quick to send her a shy smile. As she closed her book and put her full attention on the priestess.

"Hello Annamarie. I am so sorry to bother you but it seems I need some help with putting away some books. I know you're off for the day. But can you please help me?" Iris begged her with wide eyes. Seeing her in such distress Anna was quick to stand and nodded agreeing to help right away.

"Don't worry. I'd love to help you Iris," she smiled. As she put her book in her satchel that she had beside her. She was then throwing it over her shoulder, wanting to go to her room when she was done helping Iris. As Anna walked past Iris she sent her a smile and walked forward. Once she was before her Iris quickly sent her a glare without Anna knowing. Just as she did early when she saw Anna with Azriel.

But Iris soon smirked as she thought of the plan she had made for Anna, that she was about to execute. Shaking the smirk from her lips she smiled and went to walk beside Anna. Soon the two were talking about random things as Iris handed Anna books.

They were speaking of Velaris when the subject of a certain Shadowsinger came up. Anna was happy to speak of one of her closest friends. She wanted someone to know how gentle and kind he was. She knew many were scared of him and it bothered him. So if she could make someone see how he really was she would do it. She wanted him to feel more welcomed.

"He does seem nice from what I have seen. But I must say the Shadowsinger sure is handsome," Iris gossiped. Sending Anna a playful grin. Anna didn't seem to understand what she meant and what she was indicating. Because she continued to talk about Azriel with gratitude, nothing more. As she looked at the books in her arms. She didn't even notice that they were getting closer to the lower levels of the library.

"I mean he is handsome, he's kind too, he's amazing. He's actually the one to save me. He's one of my closest -," Anna began. Before she was cut off by being pushed hard and a scream left her lips. Anna then found the books in her hands falling as she fell down a few steps.

But she was quick to catch herself on the railing. As she did it seemed she hurt her ankle causing a cry to escape her. She didn't care for it though she was trying to stop herself from falling to the lower level. The lower level of the library that Anna knew not to go to. She was quick to look up and send a glare at Iris.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She exclaimed with fear. As she tried to get up the steps. Her eyes shimmering with magic from her panicked emotions. She would have quickly used her magic but she was still training with Amren, Azriel, and Rhysand to get better control over them. Still having trouble with her magic.

"Oh nothing I hope you have fun down there in the darkness Annamarie. Oh and yes Azriel is amazing and he's mine," Iris snickered. As she waved her hand blasting a wave of magic to hit Anna.

Leading her to fall down the rest of the steps into the darkness, another scream escaping her. Iris was quick to wave her hand casting a spell with a smirk. Making it so that Anna couldn't escape the lower levels of the library. Before walking off with a skip in her step.

Falling down the steps Anna found herself hitting her head and being engulfed by darkness. But before she could hit the hard concrete floor below signifying her truly reaching the bottom floor... she stopped. A cloud of shadows had stopped her wrapping around her soft waist keeping her still. The shadows were soon gently picking her up and slowly pulling her into the darkness. 

Nyctophilia Taglist -

N/A

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 24

"What is this place?" Manon asked Glennis as she found the crone polishing the handle of a gold-bound broom beside the fire. Two others lay on a cloak nearby. Menial work for the witch in charge of this camp.

"This is an ancient camp-one of the oldest we claim." Glennis's knobbed fingers flew over the broom handle. "Each of the seven Great Hearths has a fire here, as do many others." Indeed, there were far more than seven in the camp. "It was a gathering place for us after the war, and since then, it had become a place to usher in some of our younger witches to adulthood. It is a rite we've developed over the years—to send them into the deep wilds for a few weeks to hunt and survive with only their brooms and a knife. We remain here while they do so."

Manon asked quietly, "Do you know what our initiation rite is?"

Glennis's face tightened. "I do. We all do." Which hearth had the witch she'd killed at age sixteen belonged to?

"You're not a cold person."

He arched a brow. "Is that your professional opinion?"

Manon studied him. "You can descend to those levels when you are angry, when your friends are threatened. But you are not cold, not at heart. I've seen men who are, and you are not."

"Neither are you," he said a bit quietly.

The wrong thing to say.

Manon stiffened, her chin lifting. "I am one hundred seventeen years old," she said flatly. "I have spent the majority of that time killing. Don't convince yourself that the events of the past few months have erased that."

"Keep telling yourself that." He doubted anyone had ever spoken to her that baldly-relished that he now did, and kept his throat intact.

She snarled in his face. "You're a fool if you believe the fact that I am their queen wipes away the truth that I have killed scores of Crochans."

"That fact will always remain. It's how you make it count now that matters."

Make it count. Aelin had said as much back in those initial days after he'd been freed of the collar. He tried not to wonder whether the icy bite of Wyrdstone would soon clamp around his neck once more.

"I am not a softhearted Crochan. I will never be, even if I wear their crown of stars."

He'd heard the whispers about that crown amongst the Crochans this week-about whether it would be found at last. Rhiannon Crochan's crown of stars, stolen from her dying body by Baba Yellowlegs herself. Where it had gone after Aelin had killed the Matron, Dorian had not the faintest idea. If it had stayed with that strange carnival she'd traveled with, it could be anywhere. Could have been sold for quick coin.

Manon went on, "If that is what the Crochans expect me to become before they join in this war, then I will let them venture to Eyllwe tomorrow alone."

"Is it so bad, to care?" The gods knew he'd been struggling to do so himself.

"I don't know how to," she growled.

Ridiculous. An outright lie. Perhaps it was because of the high likelihood that he'd be collared again at Morath, perhaps it was because he was a king who'd left his kingdom in an enemy's grip, but Dorian found himself saying, "You do care. You know it, too. It's what makes you so damn scared of all this."

Her golden eyes raged, but she said nothing.

"Caring doesn't make you weak," he offered.

"Then why don't you heed your own advice?"

"I care." His temper rose to meet hers. And he decided to hell with it-decided to let go of that leash he'd put on himself. Let go of that restraint. "I care about more than I should. I even care about you."

Another wrong thing to say.

Manon stood—as high as the tent would allow. "Then you're a fool." She shoved on her boots and stomped into the frigid night.

I even care about you.

Manon scowled as she turned in her sleep, wedged between Asterin and Sorrel. Only hours remained until they were to move out—to head to Eyllwe and whatever force might be waiting to ally with the Crochans. And in need of help.

Caring doesn't make you weak.

The king was a fool. Little more than a boy.

What did he know of anything?

Still the words burrowed under her skin, her bones. Is it so bad, to care?

She didn't know. Didn't want to know.

[menodoramoon]

She can't help but give a half-humored smile. Almost fair, they had said. Understandable. It was always somewhat uneven. Though, she knows what they mean. Perhaps she had all the magical defenses, but he could kill her easily. She could not come close without corrupted intervention.

The inside of her wrist begins to sting again, pangs of dread echoing in Menodora's heartbeat.

She can see the way he shifts as he touches to the wound on his shoulder. The one she had left there. Her loss of control haunts her now, the way that she had let go of her restraint enough to threaten him. Would she have done the same to anyone else who brought those harsh -- maybe -- truths upon her? Her feelings had been hurt but shouldn't be enough to want to cause harm to anyone. To kill or maim or injure. What kind of Countess was she to do something like that, to someone she at one point had sworn, as a person of Mjaunie, to protect.

Once upon a time, she had sworn to them that she would be a different sort of person.

It felt like that grief was mine, Moon doesn't say, because to replay those memories wouldn't be worth it. It brings them back to that cycle and she doesn't want that. Of harm to each other -- her oblivious nature which irks him, his vicious tongue. How had the two of them ever been friends with these key differences in who they are as people?

She'd looked up to him. They'd been under her power, even if she hadn't realized it at the time. The civilized monster of Mjaunie, aiding the lords and ladies by leveraging their understanding of history and politics. He was a good Monster, she was told. When he turned on her, it felt like a personal betrayal. But it's not so easy, is it?

He rejects her offer to pay for the damages, and while she opens her mouth to protest, she can sense it's far from a mere formality. The refusal is not a performative action, asking Menodora to come back and insist. Tófi was never that way anyhow.

Simply, Menodora nods, accepting. If they were to ask, she'd acquiesce immediately. But for now, she would leave it alone.

Moon's face burns with a subtle shame as she tries to steady her previously rage-filled breathing. As she tries to settle her elevated heart rate. She is angry and angst-ridden but it's not fair for her to feel so hurt when she had quite literally stabbed Tófi for stating things that, while having strung, were true. At least to the degree that Tófi believed them to be true.

"I'm not asking for an apology," Menodora says, meaning it. She flexes her fingers, where her daggers had begun to burn the inside of her fingers. Or at least gave the illusion of such a thing.

He steps towards her as that anguish takes over and she can't help but flinch slightly, taking a half step back. They made no move to hurt her, yet that didn't mean they couldn't. They had done so with their tone and harsh words. She is still reeling, but it's her own mistrust that betrays her. And for that, Menodora is deeply frustrated.

'I should have some ibuprofen somewhere in the kitchen,' they say as they rest their hand on her shoulder. Funny, she thinks. The same one with the phantom scars. But that's not something she'll bring up. It was merely a dream.

Has the darkness spread further up her arms? She feels a slight despair as the stains remind her exactly what she's traded to get them here.

Yes, her and Tófi's friendship, but any semblance of her sense of self as well. Every time she thinks she could be a better person, she's dragged back to the memory of that day.

Isn't that so self-pitying? Tófi wouldn't approve, and neither would mother, she expects.

Still, it hurts. It leaves a slight burning in her fingertips, unrelated to the knives. And pricks under the skin, like it was magic wanting to spill out the same way light does.

It's not shadow magic, something she could control if she only dedicated herself. It's something deeper, a flow of magic that feels unnatural within her body.

"I suppose I attacked you more literally," Menodora murmurs. They don't apologize. It doesn't evade her notice. They'd always been that way, the implication of a thing that was not meant.

Even now, they're concerned for her. She nods, a bit unsteadily. Instead of the half-sob, she's now wracked with an aching headache. Was it the feeling of being weighed down by that old magic, or simply an over-excited over-exertion.

Menodora glances around, looking for something to steady herself. It's only Tófi that she can learn on at this moment. So, she swallows her pride and does so, trying to relax her body and lean slightly into the hand that rests on her shoulder. Trying not to sway slightly. She feels ill and unwell and guilty. Not so bad as to see stars or small, dancing lights, or to see the edge of consciousness, but she feels the need to close her eyes.

She won't. Not yet.

"And what, dear Torvald," She murmurs, wincing slightly at the pinging headache that was forming, "makes such a biting performance necessary?"

She's not exactly looking for an answer, but it's an interesting consideration.

"I'm feeling… a little dizzy, Tófi," she says. finally bringing a hand to press against her temple. "Would you mind terribly if I rested for a moment so long as I promise not to set any more of your possessions ablaze…?"

@ofseptarsis

genfødte sandheder || Tófi & Moon