#💕; fae speaks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readychilledwine · 9 months ago

Text

The First Hunt

Eris Week - Day 4 - Hounds And Traditions

Summary - Open season in Autumn always creates a fun game for you and your husband

Warnings - fingering, dirty talk, praise, signs of dumbification and pet play, signs of predator prey play, hunting.

A/n - Slowly reworking through @erisweekofficial things and getting them reformatted 🫠 Happy late day 4! Day 5 should be up this evening. 💕

🍂Eris Week Masterlist🍂Eris Masterlist🍂Master Masterlist🍂

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

You sighed as you walked through the fallen leaves and branches behind your husband's path. Autumn had fully fallen throughout Prythian. Leaves were changing in the solar courts, and coffee shops began to request goods from your home.

But none of that matter to Eris right now. What mattered to Eris is Prythian welcoming Autumn along all their borders meant one thing.

Open Hunting Season.

Every court had different laws regarding when hunting certain game was appropriate. With Mabon having past, Beron had opened deer and elk season. Your husband's favorite time of the year.

He spent weeks training the hounds for this, and they were as ready as their handler.

“Eris, this isn’t-”

“Now, now, my pretty bunny. Silence is the most important part of the hunt. The hounds can't find their prey if you sit here huffing.” Amber eyes stared at you, a pleased smirk on his face as you crossed your arms. “I warned you, little wife. I said this would bore you.”

“I wanted to come to the cabin, spend time with you,” you huffed again. The hounds were deep into searching. Their sensitive noses buried in the ground. They were stealthy, silent. It was as if they knew exactly what leaves and branches to avoid.

The smokehounds were one of your favorite things about Eris. It was a preview to how he'll treat your future children, a sign of the amount of love he truly had just waiting to emerge, and his patience. One of the hounds, Cyprus, came and brushed his hand before walking another direction, the others following him.

He wordlessly motioned for you to follow, bow strapped to wide shoulders again as he moved. Eris was such a graceful being. Even in his most lethal moments, Eris carried the signs of his love of dance.

You followed them, deeper into the woods, deeper into thick brush. There were no villages nearby. No fae for you to decide to leave and speak with.

You all finally stopped in a field, a cleared area in the woods with only a single ancient oak tree.

It would be the only witness to what he was about to do to you. Your back met soft ground before you could even respond and he stood above you, bent at the waist and smirking, “Little wife, on your back for me already?” His bow was carried away by Willow, weapons now long gone as the hounds began to surround the clearing, sitting in the grass to stay guard.

You pushed up to your elbows, “Huband, help me back up.” You held a hand out to him, only for him to remove his shirt. Inches of new skin was revealed before he ultimately got on top of you, caging you to the ground below, “This isn't hunting?”

“Oh but it is, sweet bunny. I ensnared you right where I wanted.”

“Did you now?”

A soft kiss found your lips, “I did.”

“What if it is I who ensnared you?”

Eris only chuckled in response, “Then maybe we are both getting what we want.” His lips found yours again, more heated and needy as he forced you to lay back again. Your own shirt was pulled of moments later before he moved to pull down the travel pants you had been allowed to wear.

His hands began to explore then, his eyes soft as he looked over your smooth skin. “This is is much better than sitting lonely and waiting for the hounds to find something,” he squeezed the plush skin of your thighs, groaning as he did.

Eris loved every inch of you. He loved the curves you carried. He loved the strong muscles of your legs. “You're already wet for me, I can smell it.”

“Eris, I'm always ready for you.”

He lifted his head at you words before glancing to where Oak had stood, “It appears we only have about 10 minutes. They've found something to chase.”

Your remaining clothing became heated, burning off to ash before a hand came to rest on the most sensitive part of you. Fingers danced through your folds, a sigh leaving your lips as you laid back. “That isn't long enough,” you whined as a nimble finger found your clit, circling it.

“Not for everything I'd like to do, no, but long enough for me to get you to finish on my hand, yes.” Eris slid a finger in while holding your eyes. “Did you really think I would not find the rabbit foot treats you hid?”

You could hardly respond as barely brushed your spot, teasing you, giving you a taste of what you craved without fulfilling the hunger.

“Did you think I wouldn't notice my hounds munching on their favorite snacks during their prehunt routine? Little wife, how silly of you to think I didn't know you were trying to get fucked against a tree.”

He began working his finger in and out, curling it just below where you needed him to touch. You continued to hold eye contact, soft moans coming from your lips as you slightly raised your hips for him.

“Gods, you're beautiful like this,” he murmured. “So responsive and soft. Who's my dumb little bunny?”

“Me,” your voice broke with pleasure. “I'm you're dumb bunny.” Eris smirked, adding a second finger and stretching you out more. His thumb grazed your clit with every movement of his hand.

Your mind shut off with every word whispered into your ear. Praising you, degrading you, the dirtiest things about how warm and wet you were, how greedy your pretty pussy was as it took his fingers so easily.

Eris began to focus on chasing your high as the hounds broke into a sprint, his fingers moving fast as the build of barking began to intimate their prey. His second hand grabbed yours, placing it on your bundle of nerves so he could focus on finding the exact angle he needed.

His free hand began to squeeze your breasts, pinching your nipples hardened from the chilly Autumn morning.

Your cries as you felt the wave approaching were drowned out to all but him. The barking now louder and insistent, indicating the hounds were closer to you and Eris, leading the prey straight to you both.

“Need you to come, bunny. Need you to a the best girl for me,” his voice had dropped, deeper as his own arousal began to grow. He kept working you, fingers pulling like a magnet and pushing you towards the sea of pleasure you wanted to bathe yourself in. “Come, bunny,” he commanded.

His spare hand forced you into a kiss, swallowing the scream of his name falling from your lips as your body found what he was working for. He kissed you through the high until he couldn't, grabbing a single bow and arrow and turning while you laid shaking on the ground to shoot whatever finally came into the clearing.

“Not bad,” he muttered as he looked between his trembling wife and the large stag. He handed you your clothing, helping you put it back on, before standing and offering all 12 hounds their individual praise.

You shook your head as Eris smiled at his first game for the season, “Good first hunt?”

“Absolutely.”

“Better than the game we played last year?”

Eris seemed to pause at that question, “Well, considering you picked the most obvious choice in distraction for the hounds this year, I would say the game of cat and mouse we played during the hunt last year was better.” Your mate, blunt and honest to a fault, looked you over. “Though, I do think you look incredibly sexy with leaves in your hair.”

Eris bent down, lifting the deer with ease, “Besides, you, my bunny, only made it 20 feet from the cabin.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes grew wide, his laughter rang through the clearing, hounds turning in circles of excitement with him. “I swear I tried.”

He moved, kissing your forehead, “Try again later.” The invitation was soft as he whistled, rounding up 12 smokehounds. “Let's go take care of this and then I can fulfill your wishes.”

He turned and walked away, muttering to himself again, “Not bad at all.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar #acotar x reader #eris fic #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris acotar #eris vanserra #eris vandaddy #erisweek2024 #eris week 2024

172 notes · View notes

thisisahypnokinkblog · 5 months ago

Text

Introduction to me

Hi there~. I’m Isabela, but you can call me Gravity (or ‘goddess’). I’m a transfemme hypnodomme and neurodivergent renaissance girlie. Screaming my thoughts into the void in the hope of attracting cool and kinky queers ;) [minors DNI. I WILL block ageless bios

You can flirt with me in Asks, but not in DMs right away. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. I need to get to know you a bit before I decide if I feel comfortable hypnotizing/playing with you, and coming on too strong is a good way to get blocked.

Strictly speaking, I’m a switch, but good luck exploiting my weaknesses on here, sweeties~~

Pronouns:

she/her/hers/herself, fae/fae/faer/faerself, ix/izm/ixys/ixself

Favorite Kinks:

Hypnosis of all sorts 😵‍💫

Scents and pheromones

Feet 💕 (including socks)

pet play

body worship

Just worship in general~ (worship me plz)

Degradation 💖

vampires

biting and marking 🥰

maaaaiiiids

Other Kinks (stuff I like, but it’s more surface level/im picky about it)

Transformation

Bimbofication (but it has to carefully tread the line of not feeling genuinely misogynistic)

stepfordization (ditto)

dronification

dollification

tentacles

parasites

breeding (it really has to be weird alien breeding though)

humiliation

sadism (scratching, slapping, and choking mainly)

a tiiiiiiny bit of forniphilia

Hard Limits:

raceplay, ageplay, stuff that edges close to genuine misogyny or homophobia, detrans and forcemasc, “bodily functions” (except, like, sneezing)

Non-Kink Interests:

I’m the sort of person who turns every interest into a hobby, so I do quite a lot. I love RPGs—I’m a forever GM trying to expand my oeuvre outside of D&D. I write fanfic, erotica, poetry, and some original fiction (mostly short stories/flash fiction) I’m also a HUGE music nerd with a head full of music trivia (and trivia in general, honestly). I play bass and guitar, write songs, and produce a bit—I have plans to release an EP in 2025 (wish me luck!) I’m also a mild board game nerd, though I mostly like light trivia games or stuff that really wishes it was an RPG. I play a spot of video games here and there, and watch a spot of TV (mostly anime). Oh and I have this weird thing with Garfield. I am obsessed with Garfield memes.

Favorite Characters:

Edelgard Von Hresvelg 🥰

Mr. House

Saori Hasegawa (c-ptsd 😔)

Miss Heed 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Favorite Musical Artists:

My Chemical Romance

Radiohead

Nirvana

I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Jawbox

Fall Out Boy

Panic! at the Disco

Favorite Board Games:

Arcadia Quest

Root

Codenames

Poetry For Neanderthals

Eldritch Horror/Arkham Horror

Betrayal On the House On the Hill

(PFP by yuziwen025. Banner from Hellsing by Kouta Hirano)

105 notes · View notes

asnowfern · 4 months ago

Text

Take Shelter

Summary: “Then go somewhere else.”

Her mouth formed a tight line at the challenge. “Perhaps I will.”

But he knew there was no other place to go.

Not when she had no money, no family beyond this territory.

~~~

But what if Nesta did? Armed with the little bit of money she received from Feyre, Nesta left Velaris for the one place she knew Cassian couldn’t follow — the Summer Court. Set post-ACOFAS.

Rating: T

WC: 6.9k

Read on AO3

A/N: Hello! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything long-ish! I hope you enjoy!💕

Then go somewhere else.

It was a taunt, far from the worst words they had hauled at each other. It was a taunt, spat out in vitriol knowing full well that she was trapped in this Godsforsaken fae city. But the words still followed Nesta, haunted her through the night as she made a mess of her bed, tossing and turning.

Oh, but the idea of it. To leave everyone behind, away from her sisters and the inner circle, away from him and his incessant pushing.

Like the pull of a melody, it stuck with her. Drew her in and sang in her brain. Unable to resist, she spun herself to it, round and round. A helpless doll in a musical box.

Nesta’s eyes snapped open and her body shot up. Her thick blanket slipped down to the lousy spring mattress which creaked in protest. She rested her forehead into an open palm, willing her heart to settle. Numbly, she stared at the streams of light that filtered through crappy windows until the frosty chill finally seeped into her bones.

She waited for another emotion to hit her. Maybe a hot slash of shame or anger from last night's dinner catastrophe. Not for the first time, she wondered dimly if the rage was any better than the yawning void.

It was only when she realised that there would be none to come that she rose from her bed to retrieve one of the books Elain had gifted her. It was barely a minute later before she slid back under the layers of blankets.

The day had just started. The sun had barely settled into the sky but it was already over for Nesta. Lost in an endless chasm.

Go somewhere else.

***

“How do I get out of Velaris?”

“You’re slurring to the glass, honey. Speak up.”

Nesta lifted her chin to the bartender, grey blue eyes burned with cold clarity despite her inebriated state, “How do I get out of the Night Court from here?”

Carl was as decent as bartenders went. He kept away the more unsavoury males when he thought she was too out of it to notice. Even when she scowled at him, the fae would simply shrug it off and play big brother again when the next unruly male came along. But above all, she knew that Carl was discreet with his customers and would never rat her out to Feyre’s inner circle.

His eyebrows pinched at her question. He turned his gaze on her, narrowing those hazel eyes that were too brown to remind her of yet another set of gold flecked hazel eyes. “You’re serious?”

Her index finger idly traced the rim of her glass. “Maybe.”

He finished wiping the pint glass with the dirty rag and set it on the table, possibly dirtier than when he had first picked it up, and pinned her with a serious look. Nesta snorted and returned back to nursing her cheap liquor. “Forget I said anything.”

“There are no access points from Velaris itself. Not with the High Lord’s wards still in place. But there are transport carriers from Hewn City for lesser faes incapable of winnowing. You just need to pay a small service fee.”

She nodded before chugging down the rest of her drink. The live band was still playing but the music stopped reaching her. She pushed herself off the countertop and dropped a few coins.

“Thanks. Keep the coins and send the bill for the drink to the High Lady.”

Carl snorted gruffly. “I hope a new place would be what you need. Take care, Nesta.”

It was the most affectionate thing the bartender had ever said to her. It wasn’t until she had just about exited the establishment before Nesta’s step hitched and she said softly, “I hope so too, Carl. I hope so too.”

Out of the tavern and into the freeze of winter, Nesta bit back a shudder that threatened to pierce through her body.

Then go somewhere else.

It wasn’t an emotion. Better than that, in the vastness of the void that had become her life, it was the tiniest flickering flame.

Perhaps, she could take a chance and blow on it.

***

Adriata was beautiful.

From the sparkling turquoise waters to the cawing seagulls above head. The blast of dry summer heat swirled with the sea breeze in a playful dance on her skin. Nesta couldn’t help her lips curving upwards as her eyes shuttered close to feel the kiss of the elements.

The elder Archeron had never harboured fantasies to travel and explore, not in the way Elain did. It would be nothing more than an indulgent dream of a future she could never have as the firstborn Archeron. But now, seeing the bustle of energy around her in this completely new vibrant land, she felt one step closer to understanding this dream of her sister’s — one which she admitted to suit Elain very well.

The next thing Nesta realised was that Adriata was expensive, possibly more so than Velaris. Just a week in the inn along the city’s Main Street would burn through a third of her remaining gold marks. Even three months worth of rental money from Feyre’s banknote would not sustain her very long.

And that was how Nesta found herself living, however temporarily, in another rundown room in an inn tucked into a quiet corner of the city. But it had a clean bed, an en suite bathroom and best of all, no fireplace — an utterly useless contraception in the heart of eternal summer.

Her to-do list since leaving her room was short but essential: find a longer-term living arrangement, a job, and on the note of money, ignore any urges to enter a tavern.

There were more important, urgent tasks at hand but it also felt inevitable that Nesta found herself at the back of a quaint bookstore instead. Nestled behind a busy street was a cozy establishment, cramped with as many bookshelves as it could hold. Ceiling to floor, front to back, its atmosphere buzzed with the promise of comfort and fantasies.

Long slender fingers ran along the spines of rows of books with a smile playing on her lips. In the next moment, she tipped a book on its edge, drew it towards her chest and started reading.

“We close in ten minutes so you need to buy that or leave,” a feminine voice said flatly, startling Nesta as she tumbled clumsily out of the fictional mindscape. She tipped her head sideways in the direction of the voice.

The female in question was not high fae. Her skin was a shade of blue that reminded Nesta of the sparkling waters that surrounded the city, and it shimmered in all colours of the light spectrum under the shop’s faelights. The edge of her lips quirked, almost in amusement, as she visually assessed Nesta, moss green eyes narrowing at the book in her hands.

“Although given that you are almost halfway through the book, I would strongly emphasise that the two options are not mutually exclusive. In fact, I’d much prefer it if you buy it and leave.”

It would be stupid to buy the book. Nesta had spent enough time living in poverty to know that precious coins could not be spent on such luxuries. So she spent pitiful seconds giving the book a last regrettable glance before carefully placing it back at the shelf, turning to the shopkeeper apologetically. “Sorry, I lost track of time. I’ll leave.”

The smile from the fae dimmed and she surveyed Nesta curiously, as if Nesta’s answer surprised her.

“Are you good with numbers?”

Flummoxed, Nesta blurted out, “what for?”

She jerked a thumb at the “For Hire” sign and looked at her expectedly. “Well?”

Nesta scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

The shopkeeper barked a laugh. “I had guessed you were not from Summer Court but that response definitely sealed the assumption. Night Court perhaps? Oh, and what else?” She paused, eyebrows furrowing, “Judging by the way you handled that book, you love books. But most importantly, you look like you might just be desperate enough to accept the pisspoor pay I’m offering.”

It was Nesta’s turn to laugh, a genuine effervescence gurgling up her throat before her face split into a lopsided smile.

“So long as it pays for food and accommodation in the city.”

“A modest one, yes,” she winked, “with some extra hours here and there.”

It wouldn’t be much but it was more than what Nesta had expected, and definitely more than what she deserved. She nodded, “then yes, I’m very good with numbers.”

“Excellent,” she said briskly and extended a hand, “welcome aboard,” she trailed off.

Nesta took the hand, “Nesta”

“Mikaela”

***

There was a quiet peace in working for Mikaela at the bookstore. They minded the store together three days a week and alternated the other two, allowing both parties to have sufficient rest days. Footfall was modest, giving Nesta enough freedom to blaze through novels after novels in between customer engagement, inventory management and accounting. True to her word, Mikaela took one look at Nesta’s work recording and organising cash flow figures, and declared her responsible for the inane task.

The tedium of her day to day was a lifeline Nesta clinged onto. She was still a fuck up. But here, she could record transactions, she could consolidate accounts, she could shelve books and smile politely at customers.

She could be a shop assistant. Surely, that was something she couldn’t mess up.

“Why don’t you get out much?” Mikaela asked out of the blue, a week into them working together.

She didn’t skip a beat, answering as she continued from where she was perched on top of a ladder, shelving books. “No money.” Even without looking up, Nesta could feel the other’s eye roll.

“Walking along the streets and beaches doesn't cost money.”

Alarm bells rang in her head and Nesta pursed her lips. “Where are you going with this line of questioning?”

“Why so defensive?” Mikaela raised a brow, “hiding something?”

Nesta’s retort was cut off by the chiming of the bell affixed atop of the shop entrance, drawing the attention of both ladies. A female High Fae stepped in. Even dressed in a casual knee length dress, Nesta recognised her easily from the High Lords meeting—

“Princess Cresseida!” Mikaela smoothly recovered from their earlier growing tension, “Welcome, can I get you anything?”

Cresseida smiled warmly as she strolled in, clearly familiar with both the female and the bookshop. “I was just walking by and thought to pop in to check if there has been any leakages since…” the princess trailed off when sharp brown eyes fell on Nesta, her expression icing, “Mikaela, I see you have managed to hire your new assistant.”

Nesta sucked in a breath. Would this be the moment she gets unceremoniously and promptly sent back to Velaris, tail between her legs? Her brain spun furiously, finding the correct words to convince the princess otherwise.

“Emissary, what in the world are you doing here?”

Mikaela’s eyes whirled towards Nesta, “emissary?”

Cresseida’s smile was razor sharp, a triumphant predator moments from striking its prey. She answered the shopkeeper grandly, “she didn’t introduce herself? This is Nesta, the Night Court’s mortal emissary, the sister of Feyre Cursebreaker.”

Nesta tilted her chin and leveled a cool gaze at the princess. “I’m no longer a part of the Night Court. I’m just like any other person passing by.”

Cresseida was not convinced, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Whatever your role in the Night Court is or isn’t, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re its High Lady’s sister.”

Mikaela looked slightly alarmed at the revelation, exhaling sharply. “Princess Cresseida, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble here—”

“You didn’t,” Cresseida reassured her even as she cut her off, all the while keeping her eye on Nesta. The pointed look was all too clear. You did. “Take a walk with me, Nesta.”

An order, not a request.

Nesta tempered the almost instinctive urge to retort and reined in the bubbling indignation. She carefully descended from the ladder and dipped her head in deference to the royal. “Of course.”

Finally, she turned to Mikaela, her stomach tightening when the other turned away. Taking a deep breath, she followed Cresseida out of the shop.

“Go back before you cause an inter-court incident.” The princess ordered, “I will not have Rhysand raining down misted fury on my city just because you guys had an argument.”

The thought that her sister’s mate would lift even a single finger for her — Nesta could have laughed then. “There is no love lost there. You don’t have to worry about Rhysand. I’m sure he is more than happy to see me gone.”

Cresseida cocked a brow. “Not Rhysand then who? Feyre Cursebreaker?” She paused, “The general?”

Nesta’s throat tightened at the mere mention of the Illyrian commander. The crack of broken bones, anguished hazel eyes and a fractured promise of time flashed in her mind. The images threatened to pull her back down under the frigid waters when she had barely managed to stay afloat the past week.

She couldn’t, wouldn’t let it drown her.

She opened eyes that she hadn’t even realised had closed, and hardened them. “You don’t have to worry. No one is coming, much less the general. My exit from Rhysand’s inner circle was more than mutual.”

Cresseida returned a crystalised gaze of her own. “Bonds forged by blood and soul are not so easily severed, so you are either lying to me or yourself.”

Then go somewhere else.

Her jaw tightened. How could the Princess of Adriata even begin to understand how much of a screw up she is? That anything tied to her rot and festers.

“First sign of trouble and you will leave. I will not risk my city for another court’s personal matters.”

Perhaps it was the tightened jaw muscle but Nesta choked at the unexpected response. “I—,” she shook her head, “of course. I understand completely.”

Turning on her heel, Cresseida walked back where they came back from, back to Mikaela’s shop.

“Are you going to inform them I’m here?” Nesta blurted out as they had reached the entrance of the bookshop, her voice too small for her liking.

Cresseida’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. She shook her head, “You live here and work here, just as any Adriata resident does. And I take care of my own.” She wagged a finger, “Just don’t make me regret this.”

Nesta smiled then, “I won’t.”

The store was awkwardly silent after Cresseida had announced that Nesta was permitted to continue living in Adriata, and closed the door with a final jingle of the bell. Nesta worried at her bottom lip for a brief moment before apologising, “I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier but I didn’t.”

The other fae gave her a long look before sighing. “I mean, it was not what I was expecting but everyone has secrets right? I knew it when you came in here looking all too fancy and starved, and squirreled away at the back of the store speeding through half a romance novel. I knew there would be secrets but I still offered you the job.”

With a lighter heart, Nesta asked, “Fancy? Really?”

Mikaela gesticulated with her hand, waving it in circles at Nesta, “It’s not what you were wearing. There’s just something about you and it’s not just that you’re High Fae—“

“I was Made by the Cauldron.” Nesta cuts her off, feeling like she owed the other fae a truth. Not all but at least some. “I was human. The King of Hybern used my sister and I as baits for Feyre and used the Cauldron turned us. That’s probably what you were feeling.”

“It’s not that,” She frowned as if she was still trying to figure Nesta out. She shook her head, “but thank you for telling me. I’m sorry that it happened. I can’t even imagine...”

Moss green eyes pierced into grey blue, conveying a soft sincerity that caused an uncomfortable lump to form in Nesta’s throat.

“Thank you.”

***

The sun blasted at full power as it always did in the heart of Summer, in rays of prickling heat and blinding white light. Nesta adjusted her hat, a comically large piece that shielded her from the sun. She looked down at her bag and did a mental count of the week’s groceries, already craving the feel of bare feet against the cool floors of her apartment.

And then she felt it, deep beneath the guitar of her rib cage. He was here. She knew it with an impossible certainty.

Cursing under her breath, she hurried to leave, only to be thwarted by the fates blowing a gust of seabreeze her way and upending her hat. Her eyes traced its path towards tattooed brown skin and a large wingspan.

Cassian’s head snapped towards her at once. Stormy blue eyes clashed with hazel, and he landed in front of her in a boom of wings.

His eyes were round as he took her in, his mouth opened slack jawed as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His finger tips white from the tight grip on her windswept hat.

“What are you doing here?” She snapped. She had to make the first move, had to make him leave. “I hear they don’t allow brutes like you in the city.”

The wonderment in hazel eyes faded. The muscle in his jaw ticked as his lips curled in displeasure. “Is that why you are here? Because you thought I wouldn’t be able to follow you? That it would be so easy to get rid of me, sweetheart?”

She scoffed. She had hoped, of course. But she should have known better, really. “Get over yourself and while you’re at it, why don’t you fly yourself back to Velaris.”

His eyes flashed dangerously but he drawled, all too smug, “I can’t leave. I’m here to make reparations to the Summer Court, as a brute would.”

It was then that Nesta realised belatedly the Illyrian was not dressed in his usual leathers. Instead, he was wearing the same white tunic and pants as the other workers at the construction building site, one of the last of the damaged buildings from Hybern’s attack.

A fool’s errand. This was nothing but a fool’s errand for the both of them. For her to have thought being in Summer could have deterred him. For him to have thought he could so simply haul her out of here like nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

She made a show of doing a last check on her basket of shopping before saying loftily, “Fine. We can be in agreement then. You have your business here, I have mine. I do not see any reason why our time here has to intersect.”

The general asked icily, “And what exactly is your business here? Ran out of taverns or warm beds in Velaris?”

Her throat burned.

It was good, a good burn. A simmering rage she could use.

“I do not see how any of this is your business. In fact, why don’t you leave the spying to Azriel and report back to Rhysand that I’m not doing anything to embarrass him and his perfect little inner circle.”

Cassian’s eyes darkened, his crimson siphons flickering in warning. He asked lowly, “Why do you always have to do that? Why do you have to keep pushing us away?”

Nesta released a hollow laugh. “You ever thought the problem lies with you and whatever the hell you and the rest of your little circle thinks is best for me? Stop pretending you care! I am done being your pity project. I am done with you,” She snatched the hat out of his hands, “Just leave me alone.”

An Illyrian always kept their wings high, proud and strong. But as Nesta turned to walk away from Cassian, the clicking of the heel of her boots echoing loudly, all she could see was how his wings drooped, its lower claw practically scraping the floor.

Her throat burned.

Maybe this time, this time she had driven him away for good.

***

Nesta did not see Cassian again after their run-in at the town square. But his presence could be felt and heard wherever she went. A constant chafing in her bones. A shadow in the sky. A bolsterious presence lugging about stones and cement at construction sites. The never ending need to snap at mothers warning their children of the dangerous lowly Illyrian; the hero who protected them and their city, reduced to nothing more than a boogeyman. It tore at her, the need to rip into these bigoted ignorant high fae and put them in their place.

If Mikaela noticed the change in Nesta’s mood, she didn’t say anything. Not until one day when said Illyrian casually walked through the entrance, somehow barely setting the bell off despite his large size.

“What,” she seethed from behind the counter, “are you doing here?”

Hazel eyes were bright, his shit eating from back on full display. His countenance was relaxed as he surveyed the store. He replied in mock innocence, brow cocked, “I’m here to get books. That’s what people usually do in bookstores, isn’t it?”

Fully aware of the curious stare Mikaela was giving the both of them, Nesta squashed the growing annoyance and put on a saccharine smile. “Yes, they do. Can I help you find anything?”

“Just looking around,” he winked, inciting the need in Nesta to hit him. He strolled deliberately slowly around the shop, only stopping to browse through the military history and strategies section.

Cassian stayed at the section for nearly thirty minutes, his countenance relaxing with each passing tick of the clock. Nesta spied on him over the top of her book under the guise of being a good shop assistant. Watched as he raised his hand to easily reach for a book in the top shelf, his tunic hiking along to reveal well-defined obliques and a tantalising trail of dark hair leading into his pants. And then his face relaxed and he smiled at the book title.

Not a shit-eating grin or the forced lightness he adopted with her. A genuine smile that brightened his face. All for a book.

It took her breath away and she scrambled to bury her face back into her book, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t look over the edge of her paperback anymore. Her eyes staring at the lines of words while her mind still fixated on that smile.

Knuckles knocking lightly on the wooden countertop demanded her attention. Nesta schooled her face into neutrality before putting her book down. Her arms moved mechanically to gather the stack of books nearer to her so she could record the sale.

“Anything else?” She asked, her eyes wholly concentrated on the book of accounts, not quite trusting herself to look back up without reminding herself of that smile.

“Yes actually,” he replied, unfortunately drawing her gaze to him where a laugh danced behind captivating irises. “Any recommendations for romance novels? One of the smutty ones.”

She choked, coughing as her saliva went down the wrong way. She glared at him throughout.

“First shelf on the right,” she managed to say after the coughing fit subsided.

“Any recommendations?” He asked, not moving a step as she had suggested.

“Anything by Sellyn Drake is good,” she begrudgingly said.

Cassian hummed before randomly picking out a book and dumping it on the table. Nesta took one look at it and exhaled exasperatedly. With Cassian unwittingly blocking her path out, she hitched herself up to sit on the counter and swing her legs over, a move that drew raised brows.

Nesta quickly switched out the book with another, explaining, “That was the fifth book in a series. You can start with this.”

“Perfect.” He said, flashing her another grin, “ring me up.”

***

Nesta stared at the melting dessert in the bowl Cresseida held up to her. She asked, confusion marring perfect skin between her brows, “Ice cream?”

Cresseida gave her an amused look, “Flavoured custard that has been frozen while being churned like butter? It gives you the most delightful creamy texture. This is chocolate. Try it.”

Not wanting to come off silly and overly paranoid, Nesta took the bowl from her. “So sweetened cold cream?” That actually sounded quite good.

Cresseida rolled her eyes and insisted, “Try it!”

Nesta felt like her world had changed the minute she placed the spoon in her mouth and the delicious confectionery melted on her tongue. She moaned in appreciation.

“Right???” Mikaela grinned from the opposing seat, “Oh, please please tell me Night Court does not have ice-cream, the business opportunity there!” She nudged Cresseida with her elbow, “You’ll invest right?”

Nesta found herself smiling at the easy friendship between the store owner and the Summer royal. There were no strings attached or politics. Just two people from two very different lives coming together to extend warmth and kindness to the other.

“I said that I haven’t had any ice cream, not that it didn’t exist in the Night Court. You might want to do your research before starting anything.” She corrected the fae before groaning as she ate another mouthful, “This is so dangerously good!”

Mikaela looked thoughtful before the edge of her lip quirked into a smirk, “You’re right. Perhaps I should ask our most recent regular customer.”

Nesta kept her face impassive, shrugging, “He would know.”

“New regular customer?” Cresseida asked.

“Cassian” Mikaela chirped happily into her own ice cream, “he has been to the store every other day for the past three weeks. I wonder how many books he is going to bring back with him by the end of his service.”

“Ahhhh,” Cresseida nodded in understanding and turned to Nesta, her dark eyes narrowing with smugness, “and you said no one is coming after you.”

“Don’t,” Nesta ordered, “you’ll ruin my very first ice cream experience.”

Cresseida laughed and leaned back into the cushions, and looked at her teasingly. “Fine, I’ll wait.”

Nesta groaned again, this time was not the blissful one from earlier. “Could we save on the ‘I told you so’s?”

“Nope,” Cresseida said, popping the ‘p’, “well, at least he’s contributing to the city.”

Nesta sighed. “Why was he allowed in anyway?” She stuffed another spoonful in her mouth.

Cresseida shrugged, “He wrote to Tarquin directly. A ban from entry into the entire court is above even my authority.”

“But what did he do?” Mikaela piped up.

“Destroyed an important institution building.”

Mikaela nodded, not probing further. She fixed Nesta a stare, giving Nesta a bad feeling, “and what did he do?”

She shrugged, feigning ignorance, all too keen to avoid this topic. No matter how futile the effort. “I don’t know. This was before I knew him.”

Mikaela gave a dramatic eye roll. “Don’t play dumb. What did he do to you?”

Nesta opened her mouth to spew out more words of diversion, then her brain caught up to Mikaela’s words. She asked curiously, “Why do you think he was the one who wronged me?”

The moss green eyes of her boss softened. “He throws you sorrowful and regretful glances when you’re not looking. I mean, yeah, that’s heck a lot of yearning in there too. But it just felt like he was trying to make up for something.”

“He’s not,” Nesta said quickly, “he didn’t do anything. It was me.”

Nesta and her wicked tongue. Capable of nothing but spreading unhappiness.

“I told you so!”

Nesta’s head whipped to Cresseida, surprised at the words clearly meant to draw her out of her spiraling thoughts. The princess simply tilted her head, gesturing at the empty bowl in her hands, and repeated, “I told you so. That male would follow you anywhere.”

“Doesn’t mean that he should have. The last time we spoke,” the elder Archeron trailed off and thought back to the awful night at the Town House and her conversation with Cassian after.

Then go somewhere else.

She shook her head, “Anyway, I left and he shouldn’t have followed. Everyone would be happier that way.”

Mikaela looked sadly at Nesta. She sat forward to reach for Nesta’s hands and wrapped them in her warmth. “You are a good person, Nesta. Anyone would be lucky to have you around. You should give them the chance to try. You deserve happiness too.”

No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t think so if she knew the full extent of Nesta’s failures and toxicity. But damn if the back of her eyes didn’t prick when Cresseida too, nodded in agreement.

The words followed Nesta over the next few weeks. A constant companion as she went through her days in that continued quiet peace. Even with Cassian still dropping by every other day, amusing her as he actually gave comments about each romance book she tossed his way.

If she would be a luckier person, she would say it was a small quiet happiness. One she had not known even as a human.

One she wasn’t quite sure she deserved but would sneakily and selfishly enjoy for herself. Even if the opportunity terrified her.

***

“We are closing in ten minutes,” Nesta warned the hulking winged form entering the store.

Cassian, dressed in his usual work attire and gleaming with sweat, flashed her an unrepentant grin and drifted over to the bestsellers display near the counter.

It was the first of Mikaela’s two fixed off-days for the week so Nesta was left minding the store by herself. More than used to the closing process, Nesta finished up counting the coins in the register and narrowed her eyes at him, who seemed to still be idly browsing through covers as if he hadn’t seen them all for the umteenth already.

“I’m closing the counter,” she warned again when she noticed the slight ticking jumps of his fingers and the tense hold of his jaw. Was he, nervous about something?

“I’m here to walk you back,” he announced.

Bells rang in her head, a metaphorical finger hovering over the fight or flight response. Nesta took a breath to calm herself, and turned the key to lock the money away with a loud jangle. “Why?” She demanded.

“Because I thought we could have dinner together.”

The Made fae stared at him incredulously. Cassian’s tone and facial expression was light, neutral but within those hazel eyes was a hint of nervousness and dread.

He was waiting for her to snap at him.

And she almost did, except for the memory of a familiar pair of sincere moss green eyes and glittering hands, quietly encouraging her to do otherwise. She heaved a breath before tilting her head up at him, “okay.”

Eyes rounded into marbles and a smile so wide it split his face. Cassian’s face lit up like a little boy who was given his favourite candy. “That’s great!”

He practically bounced as he waited for Nesta to grab her belongings and locked up the shop. She asked expectedly, “So where exactly are we going?”

“Do you trust me, Nesta?”

Nesta, not Nes, not sweetheart. Nesta, said in the gentlest of manners. As Nesta looked deep into those gold flaked hazel eyes, she knew he would never intentionally hurt her. Even if it meant going through the depths of hell himself.

“Yes.”

Carefully, Cassian wrapped his arms around hers and lifted her off the ground. His wings spread behind him as he secured her firmly against her chest. Something fluttered in her chest at the contact, squirming like a tiny chick.

“Let’s go,” he whispered excitedly, eliciting a small smile from her in response.

They soared in the sky, scaring away all nearby seagulls. But Nesta’s attention was preoccupied by the expanding view of the Summer city beneath them. Tiny dots of people and a vast endless turquoise sea below, the vibrant blue sky spread above. It was breathtaking.

They soon landed smoothly on a dilapidated platform floating a distance away from the shore, her stomach as calm as the waters around them. The wooden wall panels were peeling and there was a huge hole that punched through the hull. Evidently kept afloat through magic, the barge also hosted a picnic blanket with a full dinner set-up on its deck.

“This seems awfully well planned,” Nesta commented, eyes narrowed to slits.

Cassian laughed, a shimmer of red revealed a couple of bottles of wine lined up in a neat row, “I was also prepared to drink my evening away if you rejected me.” He reached for the one nearest to him, “but I think just the best bottle would be needed tonight.”

Nesta eyed the bottle warily. It was the first alcoholic drink she had laid eyes on since coming to Summer — a blessed necessity borne out of limited funding. Cassian clocked her reaction immediately and told her, “We don’t need wine to have a good time,” he placed it back with its friends, “unless you want to?”

She shook her head, “It’s fine.”

Cassian nodded, moving to unveil the numerous dishes that had been prepared. Nesta gave the bottles a further glance. They remained an arms length away, the lack of action a signal of trust from her dinner companion. And that in itself was enough for Nesta.

She refocused her attention on the picnic setup, turning her head upwards to the turning sky — baby pink and lilac infiltrating cerulean. It was a perfect view of the sunset.

“Where are we?” She asked, slightly bewildered at the rundown condition of the barge.

His eyes crinkled, lips upturned into another shit eating grin, “The previous Pleasure Barge and the reason I got banned from entering the court.”

Nesta’s eyes were immediately pulled to the large gaping hole in the middle of the platform and the pieces clicked. She burst into laughter, “This is the important institution building you destroyed???”

He sniffed. “A little bit of an overreaction for a lifelong ban, don’t you think? Rhys and Mor were equally responsible but I got all the blame.”

“I’m sure it was your fault,” She wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “And how many buildings do you need to rebuild for Summer as reparation?”

Another sniff. “A hundred.”

It sent her into another fit of giggles. One that bulldozed the affectionate look that Cassian was giving her.

The laughter tapered off after a few more minutes, allowing the couple to dig into the spread the Night Court native had prepared. Most of the food looked to be sourced from the coastal city itself, deep dishes of curried stews and fritters. Nesta was about to reach for the flat bread to dip into the curry when her heightened fae senses picked up on a familiar buttery chocolate scent. She followed it, brightening up when she spotted a chocolate tart.

She picked it up and bit into it instantly. Rich buttery pastry and luxurious chocolate ganache flooded her taste buds. She sighed happily, much to Cassian’s amusement.

“This isn’t from here, is it?”

“It’s from Velaris. I, um,” his cheeks flushed slightly, “I remember you liked them.”

It was shortly after Nesta was turned. When she raged against the world, for her loss of humanity, for Elain’s loss of everything. She was drowning then too, barely keeping afloat for Elain’s sake. One of the petty bright spots then was snitching bits of chocolate pastries that sat around the House of Wind. Back then, Cassian too was hurting, recovering from his wings being ripped to shreds by the King of Hybern, and yet, he noticed, remembered enough to make a flight back just to procure it for dinner with her.

“Well, don’t eat too many,” he teased, affixing the largest dish on a makeshift wooden fire stove and starting the fire, “the main star is yet to come.”

Colour leached from Nesta’s face. Her body seized up in anticipation of the crackling wood.

Snap, the fire caught on.

She flinched.

“Nesta?” Cassian’s face came swimming into view, his expression heavy with concern.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Not needing to manage her fears had lured her to complacency, impeding her ability to manage her reaction.

“Nesta?”

She swallowed audibly and turned back to Cassian. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly. Another wooden log chose to crack in that moment and Nesta recoiled.

The fire was smothered by a curtain of red in an instant. Relief flooded her. Even as she pointedly avoided eye contact with Cassian.

“What do you hear from the fire?”

She said nothing.

“Nesta?” He asked again. He retreated his arms back to his sides and sat unmoving. He would wait however long it took for an answer.

“Bones cracking,” she whispered, staring unblinkingly at the smothered logs. “Just like my father’s neck did. When he died for my sisters and I, still thinking that I hated him. Because I was so angry for so many years.” The words tumbled out of her. They crashed down the hill like a boulder released, unstoppable once it started rolling. “He was useless when we were rich and even worse than that when we were broke. Then he died for us.” She laughed bitterly, “He named ships full of armada after the three of us and I just stood there while he was murdered. Did no—“

Her face crashed downwards into a firm chest. Tears she didn’t realise she had shed seeped into the white tunic. A large hand cupped the back of her neck while the other rubbed soothingly on her back. “I’m here for you, Nesta. Just let it out.”

And Nesta began to sob uncontrollably.

***

The bell chimed as the door opened, announcing its entrant. Nesta popped up from behind her counter, ready to welcome the customer, when she spotted Cassian.

She thought back to the night before where he held her for hours as she cried and rambled her confessions. The steadfast hold still lingering on her in a comforting warmth. She set out an apology but her eyes were faster than her mouth.

He was wearing his Illyrian leathers, weapons strapped, crimson siphons gleaming in perfect contrast to the Night Court black.

“You’re leaving,”

He nodded, the hand at his side closed on a missive, crumbling the paper with the familiar elegant scrawl of Rhysand.

“It’s Feyre,” the hand now balled into a fist, his forearm trembling. “She’s pregnant.”

Nesta’s brow furrowed. This was good news, joyous news. But why did the male in front of her look anything but happy? Suspicion boiled and sputtered at the back of her mind.

She asked sharply, “What are you not telling me?”

“The baby has wings, Illyrian wings.” He whispered, still trembling, “A High Fae’s body isn’t meant to birth Illyrians. The hard structure of the wings will…”

Her stomach dropped. No… it can’t be.

“Feyre can shapeshift.” She demanded, toes tapping, arms crossed. A fae with Feyre’s powers couldn’t be so vulnerable at something so mundane like giving birth — an action all females were capable of, let alone one as powerful as the High Lady.

He shook his head, “Not in her pregnant state. It’s too risky,” he faltered, conflicted, “I need to be there for Rhys.”

She dipped her chin. “Of course.”

“I’ll still be around,” he told her firmly, “I’ll just need to postpone the reparation services but Tarquin… Tarquin will understand.”

She should go back. Be there for her sister, because no matter how estranged they were, how furious they were, Feyre was Nesta’s baby sister and even if Velaris terrified her, representing everything she sought to escape from—

“You don’t have to come with me,” Cassian’s baritone voice interceded her thoughts. Stricken stormy blue eyes locked with hazel. He cupped her face, grasping it with both hands as if it was the most precious object. “This place has been good for you. You should stay, heal. We wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Feyre. There are other winged faes. Feyre can’t be the only one.”

He said it as reassuring as he could but Nesta could tell that it was something that not even Cassian himself believed. Nesta stood numbly as soft lips brushed her forehead and mumbled half-promises. Frozen to the spot even as she looked out of the window at the diminishing black spot in the sky.

It was only hours later when she turned the silver key of the door and locked it, closing the shop for the day, that she set out to execute her next steps.

She had to look for Cresseida.

There had to be something she could do in Summer.

***

Nesta waited alone after Cresseida winnowed away in a swirl of teal vapours, her hand clutching tightly onto a small book filled to the brim with handwritten notes. The product of weeks spent digging through tomes and tomes from the Summer Court temple, hunched over a table.

It was a longshot but no matter how faint, it was a chance Nesta was sure as hell going to take.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, shivering when a particular chilly breeze of spring brushed over her. Still clothed in her light summer dress, she was completely underdressed for the cooler weather that apparently still plagued Velaris. She contemplated through chattering teeth if she should bang on the doors when shadows swarmed before her and retreated to reveal the two familiar Illyrian forms of Azriel and Cassian.

Silver lined Cassian’s eyes and his lips quivered even as it curled upwards.

“Welcome back, Nesta.”

END

#Nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #Nessian fic #pro nessian #summer court acotar #acotar fic

30 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 5 hours ago

Note

Hello! Do you have any fic about musician/orchestra AU? Or any fic that involves classical music, seeing that Sherlock plays the violin. Thank youu💕

Hi Nonny!!

Oh gosh I have so many music themed fics! I have some lists you will enjoy but also decided to just make a general Music list for you, and tag-searched ONLY music and hoped it mostly deals with the theme of music for the entirety of the fic (like as the main plot) rather than just a snippet of a violin or whatever!

That and I needed a list this weekend, LOL. If you guys have more, please add them!

ALL KINDS OF MUSIC FICS

See also:

Sherlock’s Violin

Sherlock’s Violin Pt 2

John Plays an Instrument

Song Fics (MFLs)

Moulin Rouge AU

BOOKMARKS

No Strings Attached by Elster (G, 2,714 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism || Fairy Tales, Love Confessions, Fae/Faeries) – To save John from being spirited away Under the Hill, Sherlock challenges the fairy queen to a fiddle contest.

Extraordinary by genesius (G, 2,860 w., 1 Ch. || Marriage Proposal, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Established Relationship, Morse Code, Fluff, One Shot) – Sherlock's deduced that John's going to Italy to buy him a violin. Even the greatest detective alive makes a few mistakes.

Until the End of the World by SarahCat1717 (G, 3,049 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, First Kiss, Pining Sherlock, Oblivious John, Drunkenness) – Taking place in Season 3, John listens to an old favourite song and sorts through his memories and feelings about Sherlock and Mary.

Jukebox by standbygo (T, 3,990 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Singing/Music, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Hurt/Comfort, Humour, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss) – After the music halls of Sherlock's mind palace get damaged by accident, John learns that Sherlock never forgets a song. Even the ones he'd rather forget. But the random singalong brings some unexpected benefits.

No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing / Busking, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock's attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

Obsession, Appassionato by shinychimera, Yeomanrand (E, 4,249 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive Sherlock, First Time, Jealous Sherlock, Music / Sherlock’s Violin, Present Tense, Frottage) – John is late, and he hasn’t called, and Sherlock works himself into a state. Part 1 of Love and Ysaye

proper procedure Series by paxlux (T, 6,147+ w. across 2 works || Series WIP || Post-TGG, First Kiss, Sherlock’s Violin, Fluff) – He lies back in bed and listens to the notes and pictures them gathering around Sherlock’s feet like water. He feels like there's a stone in his chest, maybe an albatross around his neck.

Made of Music Series by SosoHolmesWatson (T, 6,464+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Cuddling, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – For the past years, John and Sherlock have lived at Baker Street again, raising Rosie together--as friends and nothing more. Ever since the little girl has watched her first Disney movie, she is obsessed with princesses. When John comes home one day, he finds his friend and his daughter in the middle of a reenactment of her current favourite.

Back to the Start by slashscribe (M, 14,088 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pining Idiots, Fluff, Domestics) – Sherlock hasn't played the violin since John's wedding (which is long since over), and when John returns to 221B, Sherlock relearns the violin as he and John relearn each other. Post S3 fic with an obscene amount of pining, idiocy, and attempts to pawn off tea duties.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Sunday Evening 6 p.m. by Silvergirl (E, 30,712 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF / TEH Divergence, Grief / Mourning / Stages of Grief, Mutual Pining, Dreams, Reunion, Love Confessions, First Kiss / Time, Alternating First Person POV, Smart John, BAMF Boys, Emotional Love Making, Song Fic, Referenced Suicide, First Kiss / Time, Touching, Sleepy Sherlock, Blow Job, Villain Mary) – Six months after Sherlock jumped, he learns that John is dedicating songs to him on a requests-only radio programme. Is John just working through grief? Or is he—communicating? Fixes the hell out of S3 by pre-empting it altogether. Remember, as TAB told us, John is Pretty Damn Smart.

The Baker Street Nativity Verse Series by SwissMiss (E, 109,655 w. across 3 works || Nativity! Fusion || Teacher Sherlock, Assistant John, UST, Trust Issues, Kids, Music, Anal Fingering Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Kissing, Swearing, Slow Burn, Pining, Shopping, Siblings, Friendship) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Includes main story, DVD extras, and 24-part Advent calendar drabbles.

MARKED FOR LATER

Every Song Reminds Me of You by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (G, 1,157 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff, Humour, John's an Idiot, Posh Sherlock) – Music hath charms to help John acknowledge his feelings for Sherlock.

Wings at the Speed of Sound by Dee_Laundry (T, 2,052 w., 1 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Love Songs) – “Have you ever noticed,” Anderson said one day while they were processing a robbery turned homicide, “that Sherlock Holmes likes the shittiest music?”

Three Sad Thoughts, Danced by Fluffbyday_Smutbynight (T, 2,788 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Dancing, Music, Double Entendre, First Kiss, UST, Mentioned Mary, POV John) – John is learning waltz, but Sherlock has something different on his mind. Slow dancing is a slippery slope.

Hope is sweet by Lock_John_Silver (T, 2,977 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Valentine’s Day, Developing Relationship, Pet Names, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Classical Music, Idiots in Love, Endearments, POV Sherlock) - Sherlock wants to be more than John’s best friend. Has wanted it for ages, truth be told. So, when Molly comes up with an idea, that to some extent involves three year old Rosie, Sherlock doesn’t hesitate.

Stringplay by PrettyArbitrary (E, 3,219 w, 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Kink, Music, Stringplay) – John secretly plays fiddle. Sherlock and his violin seduce him into a threesome.

The Guy In 221B by fiveainley_ohmy (T, 3,970 w., 1 Ch. || Neighbours AU || Music, Classic Rock, Sherlock’s Violin, Singing, Flirting, Fluff, Shy Sherlock, Making Out) – ...likes to play his violin on his balcony. John is enchanted. One night while Sherlock is practicing his music, the downstairs neighbor starts to sing along. And he sounds good.

In Search Of A Word: A Symphony Of First Times by howtoquityou (T, 8,020 w., 1 Ch. || Symphony AU || Concertmaster Sherlock, Emotional Infidelity, Sarah/John then Johnlock, Classical Music, Infidelity) – There is a new concertmaster at the London Symphony, and John Watson is starting to fall a little bit in love with both the music and the man making it.

Suite for Violin and Clarinet by AwkwardAnnie (G, 9,165 w., 6 Ch. || Hidden Talents, John Plays the Clarinet, Fluff, Music) – John finds a clarinet in a charity shop and discovers that some things are better said with music. Eventual Sherlock/John.

A Very Sherlock Musical by flawedamythyst (T, 11,980 w., 1 Ch. || Musical AU || No S3 Compliant {more tags to be added after reading}) – So, you know how musicals are set in a world where people just burst into song every five minutes, and everyone around them automatically knows to join in with the tune and choreography? This fic is set in that world. John finds it extremely frustrating that Sherlock won't sing their theme song with him.

Lepidoptera by Saki101 (E, 17,967 w., 1 Ch. || Midsummer Night's Dream Crossover || Wings, Mythical Creatures/Beings, Dreams / Nightmares, Magical Realism, Sherlock's Violin, Fae Beings, Dreams vs Reality, Blood Drinking, Musical Instruments, Sex Magic, Blood Magic, John Plays Clarinet, Dark Fairytale) – Mike introduces John to Mrs Hudson, who has a room to let. Sherlock resides in Regent's Park when he's in London. It's only a short flight to Baker Street.

Sequelae of the Stradivarius by Ragazza_Guasto (E, 19,909 w., 6 Ch. || Sherlock’s Violin, Pavlovian Response, Masturbation, Fantasizing, Male Prostitutes, Fluff and Angst, Bisexual John, Virgin Sherlock, Pining, 5 and One) – John has taken to masturbating when Sherlock is playing the violin because he’s usually in the Mind Palace and sufficiently distracted. But now he’s having a Pavlovian response to violin music. Boners. Inappropriate boners. Or: Five times John and Sherlock enjoyed violin music separately and one time it brought them together. Part 1 of the Bows and Badges series

The Golden Cottage by AlessNox (T, 20,201 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3, Injury, Cabin, Composing, Sherlock's Violin, Love, Friendship, Hope, Platonic Life Partners, Music) – In a golden cottage deep in the English countryside a man comes to visit and to ask what went wrong with a friendship that once seemed so bright.

WHISPER TO ME by chrysanthemumsies (T, 20,598 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Fluff, Parentlock, Mutual Pining, Music, Sherlock Plays Guitar, Love Confessions, Light Angst, Romance, First Kiss) - Following the events of S4, Sherlock and John try and fit back into their old life as carefully as they can, all while their feelings threaten to bubble to the surface. Or: Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

At the Marriage of Night and Day by Fyliwion (M, 24,600 w., 5 Ch. || Celtic Mythology / Folklore AU || Case Fic, Violence, Oral / Anal Sex, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Accidental Fae Enthrallment, Heavy Petting, Depression, Homophobia, Fiddle Contest, Dubious Consent, Magical Realism, Magical Music, Teenlock, Fae/Changeling Sherlock) – Mycroft knew the day it happened...

Music for John by ampersand_ch (E, 25,187 w., 14 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Classical Music, Diary/Journal, Sherlock's Violin, First Time, Musical Creation, Romantic Friendship) – Sherlock can't sleep and seeks comfort in his violin. And as he spends night after night immersed in music, it becomes clear to him what's causing his insomnia.

The Sky is Full of Fiddles by agirlsname (T, 25,659 w., 6 Ch. || 1895 Teenlock || Romantic Fluff, Bed Sharing, Swedish Folk Music, Dancing, Sherlock’s Violin, Poetry, Skinny Dipping, Summer Love, First Kiss, Proposals, POV John, Gay Surprise) – It's 1895 in the heart of Swedish folk music and dance. During certain weekends, boys are allowed to visit girls at night, wooing them with fantastical poems. If a girl lets a boy into her room they can share a bed all night, fully clothed, to talk and eat caramels together. John is seventeen and looking for a girl to marry like everyone else. He's very surprised when another boy suddenly stands outside his door, wanting to share his bed…

Out and Loud by paradigmfinch (M, 28,233 w., 8 Ch. || Popstar AU || Dancer/Ballet Sherlock / Singer John, Fluff, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Jealousy) – John Watson is a 22 year old pop star who's about to come crashing out of the closet. Sherlock Holmes is a reluctant fanboy auditioning to dance in his next music video. Part 1 of Out and Loud

The Cavern by elwinglyre (M, 28,323 w., 12 Ch. || The Beatles / 1960s Rockstar AU || Only One Bed, Mutual Pining, Rock and Roll History, Erotic Dreams, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Homophobia, Heavy Petting, Kissing, Inspired by Music, POV Third Person Alternating) – Sherlock is not into making magic. He doesn’t believe in it. He does, however, believe in making rock and roll history. His best chance is to join John Watson’s band, the Magic Makers. They begin at the Cavern. There he learns to believe in more than magic with a little help from his friends. AU is set in Liverpool during the early 60s—when homosexuality is a crime.

Ride On by Silvergirl (M, 34,342 w., 9 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || TEH Divergence, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Mutual Pining, Alternating POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Music, Original Characters, Happy Ending) – After the disastrous reveal at the Landmark, John tells Sherlock there can be no excuse for what he’s done, and no forgiveness. Sherlock leaves London and starts a new life, and not even the British Government knows where. It’s up to John to track him down and make things right, with a trip around the world and a clue only John would recognize.

Caesura by emilycare (M, 36,608 w., 10 Ch. || Five and One, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Friends to Lovers, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use, Angst with Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Gay Sherlock, Bisexual John) – The violin is a retreat that eases the quiet of Sherlock Holmes' solitude. It also speaks for him when he cannot bridge the gaps his defenses create. Moments when music helps Sherlock reach out or let others in, like his stalwart flatmate and, in time, the doctor's daughter. Five times Sherlock Holmes played the violin, and one time he did not.

The Silence Between the Notes by J_Baillier (M, 44,197 w., 17 Ch. || 1830s Historical AU || Classical Music, Mystery, Social Issues, Family Loss, Travel, Vienna, Physical Disability, Depression, Mourning, Loneliness, Career Troubles, Soldier John, Composer Sherlock) – Lieutenant John Watson's days in London are painted in shades of grey after losing both his military career and his family. Could an unexpected request to travel to Vienna to track down the errant son of a wealthy family break the monotony?

You Teach Me and I'll Teach You by Burning_Up_A_Sun (E, 61,165 w., 15 Ch. || Teacher AU || Coming Out, Blow Jobs, Shower Sex, Bed Sharing, Christmas, Rimming, Homophobia, Beach Sex) – Dr. John Watson, with his recent PhD in music education, takes a job at Jesup Arts Magnet Middle School, where he meets the most obnoxious, irritating, fascinating, handsome gifted History teacher. With no where to live, John accepts Sherlock Holmes' offer of sharing a house on Baker Street. But will a Southern community accept two male teachers in a relationship or will they be forced to quit? Part 1 of the Adult Education series

Show Me Your Flaws by holmesian_love (NR, 62,054 w., 14 Ch. || Coffee Shop AU || Angst with Happy Ending, Alternate First Meeting, Developing Relationship, Musician Sherlock, Friendship) – John Watson is lost in the world. Back from Afghanistan as an invalided soldier, with no purpose in life, he takes up a suggestion from an old friend and tries a bit of a life change. Only now, he finds himself stuck in a new, tedious situation with no money or friends. That is, until a dark, talented stranger crosses his path and suddenly life doesn’t seem quite so boring anymore. But how can John begin to win over someone like that, when he feels so flawed? And how can he capture the attention of the dashing man who keeps disappearing…

Sehnenfäden by holmesian_love and Strange_johnlock (M, 67,879 w., 22 Ch. || Violinist Sherlock AU || Idiots in Love, Alternate First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humour, Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Time, Nature, Music, Seclusion, Angst with Happy Ending, Non-Explicit Sex) – William Sherlock Holmes is a world-renowned violinist, uncompromising with his principles and his punishing schedule, pushed to breaking point by his manager. John Watson is a lost, retired army-doctor, returned to London with nowhere to live. Both men end up in situations which lead them to a secluded German village in the mountains, escaping from the unforgiving world around them. A chance encounter brings them together, sharing a friendship and understanding neither of them have found before. Will they be able to find a way to express their true feelings for one another, to find the path to be together, despite Sherlock’s chaotic lifestyle?

Pull the Stars from the Sky Universe by roane (E, 77,721 w. across 7 works || Punk / Rock Band AU || PTSD, Drug Addiction, Humour, First Kiss/Time, PWP, Oral Sex, Anal, Rimming) – It’s the fall of 2000, and to help him out after his military career has ended due to injury, John Watson’s sister Harriet gets him a job as US tour manager for rising star of the industrial scene and enfant terrible, Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock’s not long out of rehab and there are plenty of doubts as to whether he’s serious about recovery. Plus, the music industry is shaking in its boots over the Napster mess. All John has to do is keep the money coming in and make sure his star doesn't screw things up. After the army, that should be easy, right?

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950s Hollywood AU || Musicals, Case Fic, Undercover, Minor Character Death, Angst, Humour, Actor Sherlock, Writer/Director John, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Romance, Dancing, Happy Ending) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance.

noise complaint by simplyclockwork (E, 85,324 w., 28 Ch. || Younger Characters AU / Alternate First Meeting || Uncertain Sherlock, Strangers to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Night Clubs, Case Fic, Fluff, Humour, Past Substance Abuse, Gay Club, Mild Angst, Introspection, Family Issues, Meddling Mycroft Controlling Mycroft, Bed Sharing, Family Angst, Acceptance, Falling in Love, Queerness, Community) – One loud upstairs neighbour and three days of non-stop party music lead Sherlock to an unexpected meeting.

To the Sticking Place by blueink3 (E, 121,973 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Musical Theatre AU || Showmance, Friends to Lovers, Bickering, UST / RST, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock, BAMF John, New York City / Broadway) – Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? Part 1 of the Screw Your Courage series

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (T, 127,481 w., 16 Ch. || Phantom of the Opera AU || Secret Identity, Sherlock’s Violin, Operas, Aristocracy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Disguise, Inheritance, Genderqueer Character, Classical Music, Singing) – After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

Failing Upward by elwinglyre (E, 204,847 w., 40 Ch. || Parallel Universes || Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Magical Realism, Science Fiction, Supernatural Sex, Non-Con Unwanted Frottage, Memory Loss, First Time, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Immortal Johnn, Friends to Lovers, First Person POV John) – When John Watson, a young med student who supports himself as a florist-by-day and musician-by-night, finds he is heir to supernatural powers that others would kill to possess, John’s life transforms into a mixture of comedy and terror. As he fights to understand what’s real and what’s imagined, he travels from one alternate universe to another. Along the way he finds the key was there all along: his brilliant best friend, Sherlock Holmes, the man who becomes the touchstone for all that John is and ever will be. Set in current day cities and countryside of Michigan, this story blends romance, magical realism and science fiction with humor. Part 1 of the Failing Upward Universe series

Guitar Man Series by 221b_hound (E, 421,327 w. across 114 works, Various Fandoms || Assorted Fandoms, Musicians / Music, Undercover, Rock Band / For a Case, John Was in a Band Guitar, Doctor John, Comfort, Angst, TRF / Post-TRF) – Before joining the army, John played guitar and was part of a short-lived band that nonetheless gained a small but devoted cult following. Cue this fact being outed (maybe during a case) and Sherlock listening to all their old tracks and becoming a John!groupie.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

While the Music Lasts by gunandviolin (E, 44,645+ w., 6/? Ch. || WiP || Orchestra AU || Slow Burn, Jealous John, Angst with Happy Ending, Classical Music, Sexual Tension) – John Watson, a weary veteran of the professional orchestra circuit, settles into his new position as principal clarinetist for the London Symphony, hoping that he's left his worries behind in the States. However, his sudden acquaintance with the brilliant solo violinist Sherlock Holmes and the suspicious circumstances surrounding the death of his predecessor prove that John's troubles are far from over.

The Cold Song Series by Eldritchhorrors (E, 72,586+ w. across 7 works || Series WiP || BDSM Themes, Psychological Drama, Music/Violin, Romance, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Anal, Character Studies) – This is how broken people fall in love...

Dissonance by CarmillaCarmine (E, 76,624+ w., 14/? Ch. || WIP || Punk Band AU || Pining, Bi/Gay Panic, Best Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Swimming, Music, Doctor Watson, Drug References, First Time, Blow/Hand Jobs) – Straight from military service, living a life devoid of purpose, John meets a man who reawakens his passion for music.

Welcome Home by itsalwaysyou_jw (M, 81,358+ w., 25/32 Ch. || WiP || WWII / Post-WWII Historical AU || Fluff and Angst, Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, POV John, Mutual Pining, Dev. Rel., Past Viclock, Nice Victor, First Kiss, Romance, PTSD John, Grief/Mourning, Implied / Referenced Drug Use) – In 1938, John Watson was at the peak of his music career, performing original jazz tunes in the hottest clubs to adoring crowds. But now the year is 1945 and Captain John Watson has just returned home from the war. Attempting to cope with the horrors he saw in the Solomon Islands, he struggles to get even a weekday slot performing at the jazz clubs. When he hears a radio announcement for a song-writing competition, he knows this is the opportunity he has been waiting for. He only needs to put a band together that can help him win the grand prize. But first, he needs to face his survivor's guilt to honour his best friend's dying wish: he must find Victor Trevor's spouse- someone named Sherlock Holmes- and deliver a message.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #music fics #orchestra fics #sherlock's violin fics #long post

8 notes · View notes

ihateitherexx · 1 month ago

Note

Tell me about Z and Fae. How did they get lucky enough to meet you?

I got lucky enough to meet them actually 🥰

I met Z first and he introduced me to fae before we even met and then we started discussing potentially having a threesome which became a reality after the Christmas holidays last year!!! Best experience ever, they both made it the most comfortable and exciting time for me and I hope I relayed the favour 💕💕💕

Honestly if we speak as friends first and I like you, I'm a bit of a massive slut for my friends 🥰

#girlblogging #attention wh0r3 #bd/sm community #mine!#i wuv anons

9 notes · View notes

masquerade-of-misery · 2 months ago

Note

Gush Game!

Gush about your f/o's hair!

Gush about your f/o's voice!

🧡

From this ask game

Thank you for the ask, Mari!🤗💕💕

Gush about your f/o's hair!

Oh, god, his hair….! 💖💖 Let’s get into it!

I’ve seen people expressing their dislike towards his undercut, but I actually like it. I’m pretty sure Lilia would love getting some gentle scratches there ^w^ Also, some people find his haircut weird or unappealing, but I’ve liked it from the start. It’s so unique and daring, just like him!

Oh, and don’t get me started on the cute little tufts (or whatever they are called) on each side!!😭💕💕I’d love to play with them!! They are just so damn cute, and a nice nod to his bat fae origins.

Then, we have General Lilia with those gorgeous, long locks, oh my god…. I’m so weak!! I’d love nothing more than to brush it, braid it, style it… I’d run my fingers through that radiant, beautiful hair all the time! It also looks so shiny and healthy 😍❤️❤️ (the envy is real)

I’ve always had a soft spot for long-haired guys, especially those with black hair, but Lilia even topped it with red/magenta streaks! Every time we cuddled or hugged, I’d love to nuzzle his soft hair and breathe in his lovely scent 💘💘

I pray that one day we can see him with a cute ponytail in the game; I actually don’t understand why Yana hasn’t made a design for him with one already. Silver had a ponytail during GloMas and the Master Chef events, and we’ve also seen Mal with one on three different occasions, so why not Lili??

Thank god for all the lovely artists who draw him with a ponytail!

Gush about your f/o’s voice!

Like many of us, I was also completely shocked when I first heard Lilia speak! With that youthful, adorable appearance, no one would have expected him to have such a deep, manly voice.

I immediately recognised the VA because I was a big Diabolik Lovers fan back in the day, and Hikaru Midorikawa voices one of the characters (Ayato Sakamaki) in that game and anime.

And now, I can’t even imagine Lilia having anyone else other than Hikaru voicing him! It just makes so much sense given Lilia’s age and wisdom, and the confidence and sexy masculine energy oozing out of his every pore 🤤💞💞

Lilia’s voice is a soothing balm for my soul. I could listen to him talk for hours and hours and never get tired of it. I’d love to have him tell me all kinds of stories, whether it’s something from his past or a fairy tale, and I’m sure his voice would work like magic whenever I struggled to fall asleep. Even better if he held me and played with my hair, too 🥰

I also love the fact that his voice gradually softened along with his heart as time went on ;w; And his VA even uses a different tone for Lilia’s online persona, Muscle Kurenai! Lili’s voice is just as colourful and multilayered as his personality, and I find it really fascinating.

When he sings, my knees go weak and my heart melts🙈 I’m still pretty salty that he had the least amount of solo vocals in the Diasomnia song TT^TT Hikaru Midorikawa has an amazing voice, let the man sing!!! Also, I wish we could hear Lilia’s metal screams at least once… Here's the opening song for Diabolik Lovers! Hikaru's voice is so perfect, and if I imagine Lilia singing it...🥵🥵 And the lyrics make it all the better!😍😍

youtube

Oh, and his laugh… Such lovely music to my ears! His little “kufufu” is the most adorable sound in the world💘💘

And finally, I absolutely LOVE how smoothly his voice can go from cute to sexy and seductive in the blink of an eye, where you feel like you can get pregnant just from hearing it 🙈💞💞🥵

I just call this THE Voice Line:

Paired with that smirk and the narrowed eyes?? OH, LORD🥵🥵

Alright, I'll stop my gushing before I start gushing in another area xD

#asks #f/o ask game #mutuals #Mari🐲#🦇x🦋#Vanilia #Linessy

8 notes · View notes

hanafubukki · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: Malleus wishes Silver a Happy Birthday.

Time has always moved differently for the fae. It was a concept he always struggled with.

And yet, time seemed to have slowed down yet quickened in a way that Malleus was never used to after meeting a silver-haired baby.

Malleus can’t exactly recall when this phenomenon started.

Maybe it was the day Lilia flung the baby at him? When he looked at the crying bundle and hummed his mother’s lullaby?

He knew time moved steadily from that moment on, flowing through his fingertips in a way he had not noticed before.

That baby grew, and his weight increased.

The baby continues to grow along with the amount of saliva and other liquids that soaked Malleus. The seamstresses would faint if they ever knew what transpired on his clothes.

Eventually, Silver spoke words and greeted him with a smile as bright as the sun.

Time passed.

Silver learned magic. The pride in his eyes the first time he manifested it had Malleus feeling the same.

Malleus remembers the time he taught Silver and Lilia to dance. Swirls of magic danced on his fingertips as he played a tune and instructed them. Oh how fun that was.

Time continues to slip by.

Malleus remembers the days he would watch Silver and Sebek train.

The day he chose them as his knights. The looks on their faces made it worth it-another way to keep them close by always.

Malleus recalls, before blot and magic took control and emotions unfolded, how silver hair and determined eyes preached against such dreams and their wrongness, how no one wanted it, least of all him and Lilia.

Malleus sees these same eyes.

So bright and pure.

Colors changing like the facets of jewels.

Malleus remembers these eyes, the eyes of the babe, who dared to cry in his arms. The one who cried to him out on a snowy day, feeling as useless as he.

Malleus smiles, bringing a hand up to those very eyes.

Wiping crystal-like tears away as he used to do to the babe, consoling him as he had done not so long ago.

Breathe.

Just a bit more.

A splash of red on white leaves him aching, he hadn’t meant to tar such purity.

Tears continue to flow despite his efforts, from these very eyes.

Holding him tightly, speaking to him. Desperately.

More expressive than Malleus had seen him be in a while.

Ah.

Malleus wishes he could hear him.

But the clawing darkness prevents it.

So Malleus smiles, proud as ever of the one before him; using what strength he has left to speak words he desperately wants to say.

My Light that guided me through the darkness.

My Loyal Knight.

Thank you for saving me.

“Happy 18th Birthday, Silver.”

Darkness.

Happy Birthday, Silver 💚💕🌷

I love you🥰🌺

#*3am Hana smiles at you*#malleus draconia #diasomnia #twst silver #silver vanrouge #twst malleus draconia #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst scenarios #twst drabbles #twst #twst angst #twst malleus #twst book 7 #disney twisted wonderland #twst platonic

240 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, I saw you wanted some dark Elain requests and I loved your head canon that involved Elain growing poisonous plants so I was thinking what if Elain has become successful growing some of Prythian’s deadliest plants and is also an expert at making poisons? Maybe Reader was sent by someone to collect a potion from Elain and she’s captivated by the juxtaposition of her soft aesthetic along with her ability to be super scary with her poisons.

Then maybe Reader keeps coming back with the excuse of buying potions from Elaine when in reality she’s just throwing them away when she leaves. Elaine finds out and is really annoyed and then it is revealed to her that it was all a ruse for Reader to spend time with her. Then maybe a bit of fluff or smut once Elaine finds out the truth?? Whatever you think fits and feel like writing 💕

Totally get if this isn’t the sort of thing you are looking to write, but I had it floating about in my head and I feel like you’d be the perfect person to write it ❣️

Sorry for that essay 😂

Hope you have a lovely day! 💖

Pick Your Poison

Dark!Elain x reader

A/n: this was perfect anon! Also I’m so sorry I haven’t posted in a while. I haven’t been feeling great lately but I’m trying to get over it.

Warnings: not fully dark!elain, mentions of poison

Poking around the different elixirs laid out on the table you were careful not to touch them. Not knowing what they were capable of. Glancing around the apothecary and taking in the familiar warm scent you couldn’t help but feel at home.

Elain’s shop was odd but perfect for her. The soft pinks and greens that decorated the walls at odds with the dried up deadly bundles of plants hanging from the ceiling and walls were discerning to most. But not you. You could spend hours in the tiny shop.

Many people avoided the middle Archeron sister’s shop. The rumors of her powers mixed with her occupation of poisons kept most people away. Some were crude and called her the Weaver of Velaris, turning her into a ghost story meant to scare children. Some just claimed she was the worst kind of witch. That angered you. Elain is too sweet for that kind of treatment.

You remember the first time you came to Elain’s apothecary. Your boss had asked you to pick up a special plant (not out right of course). Knowing your boss’s business and where you were being sent you knew it was poison. Entering the shop your fingers were trembling, you didn’t know what to expect.

Elain’s sweet demeanor relaxed you as she helped you find what you were looking for. After an hour and over a hundred questions from you later you had the plants for your boss and an oil to help your hair grow faster. Since then you have made it a point to stop at Elain’s shop once a week.

Tonight you stopped on your way home from work. When you walked in the shop was empty, Elain missing from her usual spot behind the counter. You figured she was in the back with a client, so you decided to peruse. You were here to buy something anyway, your blanket excuse to see Elain.

The office door opened causing you to stand straight, abandoning the elixirs you were bent over. Elain bid the lesser fae goodbye. Once the shop door closes she turns to you, a bright smile on her face as she takes you in. “Y/n, how are you?”

You just stood there, practically gaping at her beauty, like an idiot. You always stumble over your words and blush around her. “I’m well, and you?” You stuttered out.

Fuck. You should just pick up something random and go. This conversation is already ruined, you tell yourself.

Elain was speaking to you but you couldn’t hear her over the blood rushing in your ears from nerves. A tightening sensation worked its way down from your chest to your stomach. All you could do was nod and smile at her. “Were you looking for something? Let me show you these new oils I made.” She said, that excited look she gets when talking about her creations plastered on her perfectly round face.

“Oh no! That’s ok,” you rush out. Cauldron, where was this anxiousness come from? Snatching a bundle of something from the wall you held it out to show Elain, “Just this.” Elain nods her head slowly, giving you an unsure look. You followed her to the counter, pulling out the money to pay her. Rushing your goodbye that tenseness built up in your chest to an unbearable amount.

Fleeing the shop you drop the bundle of poison, starting to jog until you knew Elain couldn’t see you.

An hour later Elain couldn’t help but go over your conversation. Did she do something wrong? She’s been doing her best not to scare you off like she has with others. You were different. Elain didn’t feel the need to draw you in and dispose of you, she wanted to keep you, forever. Even though it had only been two months you already felt like hers.

Locking the shop, Elain noticed the bundle you just purchased lying on the ground. Scowling, she bends down to pick it up. What the hell? She worked hard on each bundle of poison. Why would you do that?

Marching up the steps of your house Elain didn’t think twice about confronting you. How dare you waste her talents like this! After three quick knocks you opened the door, stunned to see Elain on your front stoop.

“Care to explain why I found this on the ground after closing?” She thrust the little bundle out for you to inspect. You stared between the poison and Elain’s angry face at a loss for words.

Elain was quickly finding herself at a loss for world (and in la la land) as she scanned your appearance. In her rage Elain didn’t realize that you were only dressed in a small nightgown, black lace lining your breasts and a thin nightgown slipping from your shoulders.

“I should probably tell you the truth,” you move aside to let her in.

Elain took in your home. The warm light and dark furniture making her feel relaxed and welcome. She followed you into the sitting room, setting her stuff down on the low lying table by the couch. As Elain sits you drape a fluffy, crème blanket around her shoulders. Elain mumbles out a thank you, shocked by your kind gesture.

Siting on the other end of the couch you picked at your nails, anxious to tell her about your feelings. You had planned to tell her earlier tonight but that building feeling in your chest stopped you. It’s been hours and though the feeling has lessened it was still there. With Elain now mere inches away from you the feeling was growing again.

“I’ve been stopping by your shop for you. I’m-I have been working up the courage to tell you that I like you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same. And I’m sorry that I just threw that on the ground, I didn’t mean to be wasteful,” you rambled on and on, looking down at your lap the whole time.

When you finished you look up to find a small smirk on Elain’s pink, plump lips. In the time you spoke she had inched closer to you. A small gap separating your thighs. You wanted to close it, to feel the warmth of her through her dress. But you restrained yourself, waiting for her response.

Elain placed a hand over your tangled fingers. “Can I tell you a secret?” She whispers. You nod, that feeling in your chest turning to a comfortable warmth. Elain leans in so close to your face that her nose brushes slightly against yours. “I really like you too.” Elain pecks your blushing cheek, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart soars at her confession. You throw your arms around her neck, pulling Elain into a crushing hug. She hugs you back tighter, burying her face in your neck to inhale your familiar scent.

In that precious moment the bond roared to life in Elain’s chest. That warm, golden thread connecting her to you forever, tied tight around the rib closest to her heart. Elain was overjoyed. You are hers forever. To hold and to keep. That night as she laid next to you in bed, watching you sleep peacefully, Elain vowed that no harm would ever come to you. That she would kill anyone who dared to touch what was hers.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #elain archeron #elain acotar #acotar elain #elain x you #elain archeron x reader #elain acosf #elain x reader #elain archeron fic #elain archeron x you #elain x reader fic

33 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 1 year ago

Note

Rhys w a small reader with a big mouth?

Little Girl, Big Mouth

Rhys with a mouthy reader headcanons

Warnings - implied smut, reader could be seen as trashy but Rhys loves it

A/n - This anon actually came from an IRL friend. She texted me about it, and I had her clarify if she meant a gossip or big mouth as in a girl who is prone to talking shit and fighting. It was talking shit and fighting, so thanks, Sammie 💕💕

Ps- I will figure out what your username is 👀 but you're very sweet for doing this the way the rest of my followers do instead of just texting me first😭

You aren't a doormat. He refuses to let you be seen as one. Even if that means you get into a verbal argument here and there.

Those verbal arguments have gotten physical.

My baby daddy always tells me not to write a check he can't cash (if you don't know what that means, it means don't start a fight that he can't finsh.) You don't have that problem with Rhysand.

If you stand, mouth firing off insults as someone else is, he will stand too. Ride or die, he won't let you fight without him.

And that is if the man isn’t already behind you, warning the male standing over you without even having to speak that if he lays a hand on you or speaks out of line, he will be finding out why Rhysand is proud to be half illyrian.

You do know time and place, but if someone insults your male, your family, or your court first, all bets are off.

Your mouth is equal opportunity. High fae, lower, male, female, high lord? You don't care. All bets are off the table with you. No one is safe.

Beron? Constantly roasting him. Asking him if beating his wife helps him feel like a real male. Keir? Verbally torn apart. How pathetic he must be to think he has some pull when he lost out on being high lord.

Hell, illyrian males aren't even safe from you. Not when three immediately are behind you the second they feel your mood change.

And it isn't that you can't fight. You are well trained and can more than hold your own. He just prefers you let him.

He's only held you back once. It was from Amren, and he hardly caught you in time before you jumped on her.

Cassian was disappointed. He wanted to watch two tiny females wrestle it out. He said it would be better if pretty lacy outfits were involved, but he was ready to settle for you in your dress and Amren in her two piece outfit.

Rhys did not stop you, nor Amren, from tackling Cassian for that comment.

He will throw you over his shoulder, ignoring you as you scream for him to put you down while still running your mouth as you're carried out of the room. But only if family is involved.

Mother knows they are no exception. You all get on each other's nerves from time to time. Besides Azriel. You could never fight Azriel.

Rhys loves it. He loves how spicy you are. He loves how much fight and sass you have. He loves how it's always to people who are mean.

He does love fighting for you as well. Sometimes, he asks you to pick fights when it's someone he has been itching to get his hands on.

He rewards you throughly when you oblige him.

"Where's that big mouth now, darling?" While your back is arched off the bed, and your mind is just a haze. "Thought you had so much to say earlier."

He loves making his girl with so much to say and so many opinions go dumb for him.

He loves it when all you can think to say is his name and barely thrown together words.

He loves putting your mouth to other uses if you start in on him, too.

He'd keep you tucked under his desk for hours, putting your mouth towards something actually useful if you two fight.

And that's rare. Your opinions are normally shared and mutual. It's why you two work. Otherwise, you would be constantly at each other's throats with how vocally dominant you both like to be.

Overall, he'd change nothing about how sassy you can be. He loves you as is. Even if it means you bandaging his hands after a trip to Illyria.

#elizabeths.updates #send asks #send anons #acotar x reader #rhys headcanons #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand headcanons

178 notes · View notes

w1lted-r0se · 22 days ago

Note

could we get uhm

level two , any masc character from any source (maybe one you really wanna do / a source you like? were not picky, we just prefer having introjects,) ,

with the add ons of kins , handwriting claim , and voice claim ?

cause we need someone to help manage our personality disorder symptoms ,

OF COURSE DEAR ANON!!

here you go~

we may have gotten inspired to do a regular flyte pack after doing one for twisted flyte hehe :3

Names: Flyte, Butterfly, Wing, Moth, Angel, Fluff, Larry, Star, Flower, Daisy, Aquamarine

Pronouns: He/Him, H3/H3m, Hy/Hymn, H💕/H💕m, H🦋/H🦋m, They/Them, Th3y/Th3m, Thy/Thym, Th💕y/Th💕m, Th🦋y/Th🦋m, It/Its, Iy/Iys, I🦋/I🦋s, I💕/I💕s Ae/Aers Fae/Faes Xe/Xem Heart/Hearts, Flower/Flowers, Star/Stars, Toon/Toons, Icor/Icors, Bug/Bugs 💕/💕s 🦋/🦋s

Genders: Demiboy, Transmasc, Dissofae, Springchimegender, butterflyyapper, Pibeutden, butterflysquish, Somnolentuspapilio

Age: Age slider from teen to adult

Roles: Personality disorder symptoms holder, dissociation holder

Likes: Researching, Butterfly’s, Moths, Flying creatures, Bugs, Caterpillars, The colour pink, Makeup, Flowers, Arachnids, Boats, Crusies

Dislikes: Bullies, People making fun of people with disorders, Being fake claimed, R/fakedisodercringe, Water

Faceclaim:

How they fulfil their roles: They tend to dissociate in classes, with family, with friends, anywhere really. and they tend to show the most symptoms of personality disorders out of anyone in the system.

Typing quirk: Changes e to 3 and i to 1, also types with spaced out and double punctuation. Example: H3llo th3re ,, 1ts n1c3 to m33t you ..

Transids: Transflowersmelling, Transwinged, Transbutterfly

Cisids: Cistoon, Cisdandysworld

Sign off: 🦋💕, 🪽☀️, 💗⭐️

Kins: Butterfly therian, Moth therian, Object kin of the squish mellow below

Handwriting claim:

Flowey, Neat cursive

Voice claim: non verbal most of the time, but when he does speak i think it would sound a bit like a masculine version of fluttershy or dipper pines

#bah #build a headmate #build an alter #baa blog #baa #bah blog #endogenic friendly #endo safe #endogenic safe #pro endo #endo system #endogenic #endo friendly #mixed origin system #willogenic #tupla

4 notes · View notes

boopshoops · 1 year ago

Text

What if I just... *AGGRESSIVELY DUMPS OUT PILES OF LORE ABOUT TWST TEACHER OCS*

Ok so hi this is Ezra Goldspire. He is twisted from mother Gothel from Tangled >:D. He is the Art and Music teacher in my fic The Creation of a Villain, and he is pure(?) of heart, dumb of ass <333

He is inspired by changeling fae, having been raised by humans. He is still rather young in fae's terms of aging, and he only just began teaching. He's been instructing at NRC for about three years now, and he is pretty well known for being easy going and lenient with lectures.

Despite only being around 300-ish years old, he is very self conscious about aging and mortality due to his upbringing. He takes great care of his appearance, and often struggles with insecurities of how he wants to display himself. This is especially true since changeling fae are known for their shapeshifting abilities. Would people like his real face??? What does his real face even look like??? Who fuckin knows!

He also truly cares for his students and fellow staff a LOT. Almost to the point where he gets ridiculously attached. However he is more familiar with human lifespans and mannerisms than most fae, he can still be possessive enough to the point where he will position himself in a guardian role, "hiding" students away from dangers when in reality, he's just limiting them.

And uhh hello again, this is Joel Bullion. He is twisted from John Silver of treasure planet. Given the existence of robots n such in Ignihyde, I was like... wait, why can't cyborgs be a thing?

He teaches a multitude of different subjects, including astrology, culinary crucible, technomatic enchantments, and aids Coach Vargas with joint P.E. lessons on occasion when he's not too busy.

Opposite to Ezra, but not quite like Trein, he has a reputation for poking at and picking on students. He doesn't really get along too well with his other colleagues due to his antics, but his position in the school is highly valuable seeing as he teaches various subjects.

He's mostly in this teaching gig for the cash, not gonna lie. It feels more like a side hustle for him, honestly, as he's more focused on procuring his own wealth and adventure outside of NRC. Does this mean he doesn't care for his students...? Not necessarily, though there are really only a select few he enjoys speaking with, and most the time it's because they speak more like friends than teacher and student. For most of them though, their struggles are free entertainment. Suffering is fun. 💕

Anyway ramble over LMAO

33 notes · View notes

likeallfire · 4 months ago

Text

tagged by the lovely @nixie-deangel 🩷

summer or winter // coffee or tea // straight hair or curly hair // fiction or nonfiction // necklaces or bracelets // marshmallows or whipped cream // night in or night out // sunset or sunrise // pizza or pasta // cold drink or hot drink // vampire or werewolf // crop top or oversized hoodie // be able to fly or run at super speed // speak many languages or able to speak to animals // be invisible or read minds // phone call or text // laundry or dishes // pool or beach // flats or heels // stay home or go out // coke or pepsi // cook dinner or do dishes // books or movies // dogs or cats // chocolate or vanilla // facebook or instagram // over-dressed or under-dressed // morning or late nights // always late or always early // dancer or singer // always eat only dessert or always eat only savoury // shopping or museum // art gallery or zoo //parties or picnics // white lights or multicolored lights

some no pressure tags @tornadeoqueen @rcgersromanoff @catdadacd @dogmetaphors @redmeet @fixedglare-ii @mossy-fae @livinginsunnyhell and anyone else who wants to do it 💕

#sorry if you’ve already been tagged 🙈#tag game

3 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 5 months ago

Note

Happy New Year! Do you know when you will update Best Friend’s Dad? Because I’m dying to know how Fae and his ex-wife will react when they find out

Happy New Year!

I’m not really sure when hon 💕 I’m sure they both are expecting it at some point given the baby anyway. And now that Fae is on speaking terms and they seem good again I bet she’ll be happy about it 🥰

Xoxo

#ask #bfd!harry

3 notes · View notes

ruinedbybooksandanime · 1 year ago

Text

Hello again! Here is chapter two of my ACOTAR OC based story. If it isn’t obvious, Azriel is the future love interest. I hope you all enjoy! As always, I take any and all feedback! Thanks for reading 💕 (Also I’d like to say that I haven’t read TOG yet, I’m on Assassin’s Blade, and already changed a few things so it’s not copy paste, but if there are any similarities between Ravaen and Aelin they are unintentional.)

Summary: Knowledge is power and Ravaen seeks to get it. Luckily for her, she’s in a better position than she thought she would be.

Warnings: Abuse, a little drop of alcohol, subtle flirting (literally less flirting than alcohol)

Words: 4164

Part One

The Raven’s Claws

Chapter 2:

My fingers pluck the strings of the crystal lyre, the norse swirling around in my hand and the room. My voice meets the notes as I sing the tale I decided on today. I move in time with the music, my eyes shut as years of memory guides me, my hands, to create this melody. Nobody in Penrith moves or speaks, all of them focused on me. Even Ylla the bartender has stopped making drinks and I can feel her pitch black eyes on my back.

The song comes to an end, the final note echoing against the walls. It’s like the room was in a daze and once the last sound of that note ends, applause erupts through the bar. A small smile tugs at my lips and I open my eyes, take a deep breath, and stand. I turn around to bow slightly to the crowd of High Fae, all males of high standing or officials of the court. My eyes flicker to the bar, my gaze landing on the one thing that stands out.

An Illyrian warrior clad in black leathers leans against the bartop, his hazel eyes meeting mine. I see a flicker of surprise in his eyes but it’s gone in half a second. A blank look is on his face now like he’s bored and disinterested. I make my way off the stage, stopping to talk to a few males as they praise my playing and offer not so subtle flirtations. When I finally get to the bar, Azriel has disappeared but I know exactly where he’s gone.

Ylla smiles at me, her sharp teeth gleaming in the faelight. “Beautiful! You did good.” She turns to make some drinks, her hands moving quickly. Her speaking is guttural, her race of fae not used to using words but noises made from their throats. “Male fae went to room. He is cute. Very large. Wings are…interesting.”

I laugh softly, the sound filled with fondness. She’s a beautiful fae with her pitch black hair that’s so dark it draws in the light and her almost translucent pale skin. She turns and sits two drinks on the counter.

“He’s an Illyrian,” I say as I drag the drinks toward me. “They make fierce warriors and even fiercer lovers, if the rumors are to be true.” Ylla’s black eyes widen before they narrow on me, a smirk growing on her pink lips. “No, we’re meeting on business. Though I can’t say I won’t entertain the idea.”

“Naughty High Fae,” she giggles and waves her hand. “Drink on me. Have fun.”

I give her a wink as I pick up the two drinks and walking toward my private room. A few more fae males stop me on my trek but as they see the dual drinks in my hands, they only offer a few words before slipping out of my path. I carefully open the door to the room and see the spymaster sitting in one of the arm chairs. He stands as I enter, wariness written across his face even as he sees that it’s me. As I walk toward him, I use my power to throw up a ward around the room to keep any listeners from hearing our conversation. He tenses as he feels my magic.

“Relax, it’s just a silencing ward,” I say as I set both drinks on the small amethyst table between the two arm chairs. “There’s too many ears in the Hewn City.”

The shadows around his face curl through his hair before he nods. His eyes trail over me, that calculating look once again in his gaze. For tonight, I had chosen a black gown with jewels of all shades of purple decorating my skin. My hair is in a half up, half down style and gentle curls frame my face. I clear my throat softly which causes him to startle, seeming to have been lost in taking in my appearance. I come around and sit down in the other armchair and watch as he takes a seat once more.

“What is this place?” Azriel asks as he gestures around the room.

“This is my private hosting room,” the purple room, as I had told him to request when he needed to meet with me. “Many High Fae with big mouths like to have private concertos while they have meetings. It’s a good way to hear the latest who’s who.”

He doesn’t respond as he takes in the room, at the convenient location of the stage to the seating. He almost seems impressed at the room. I cross my legs, the slit in my dress exposing my thigh.

“What did you need me for, spymaster?”

“Rhysand wanted me to give you this,” Azriel pulls a folded piece of paper from a pocket in his leathers. “And ask why you haven’t made a move yet.”

I open the note and read it, a brow raising. “There are certain fae on that list that aren’t in the court right now. I’m debating whether to hit them first or those that are here while I find out more information. My father is having a meeting tomorrow with some of the targets and I’ll be able to glean who is the key players in this.”

Again, he’s quiet and when I shift my gaze from the letter to him, there’s an expression of confusion on his face. I follow where he’s looking and a shocked gasp comes from my lips. I quickly pull my dress over my thigh, over the huge purple and brown bruise that covers the backside of it. I want to smack myself for the stupidity of forgetting about it as he fixes those hazel eyes on me.

“Are you recovering from an injury? Is that why you’ve been taking so long?” Azriel doesn’t seem inclined to inquire any further than those two questions.

“No. I’m not injured and I’m not lying about my reasons for waiting,” my voice is completely flat, a muscle in my jaw tensing in annoyance. I sit Rhysand’s note down in my lap. “I don’t know if the High Lord realizes just how many targets he has given me. He wants this done before the next ball? That only gives me two weeks.”

Azriel’s gaze drops back down to my now covered thigh. “Rhysand wants this mess finished and cleaned up as quickly as possible. If you need aid, I can have one of my spys-.”

“No,” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “Any extra hands will just make things more complicated.” I press two fingers into my temple, rubbing the growing headache away. “Are you staying in the Hewn City tonight and tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’ll be here for the rest of this week before making my way elsewhere. I have…business to attend to. Why?”

Business. I know what that means. A trip to the dungeons would confirm just who this business is with.

“I’ll gather the information I can from my father’s meetings tomorrow and meet you back here at the same time,” he nods his head, agreeing to my words. “If what I think is going to happen is correct, I can give the High Lord a list of those fae who are helping my father the most. He can decide if he wants them all taken out or just those pillars.”

“Alright,” Azriel crosses his arms. “Taking out the pillars of this revolt would be a good move to start with. But if someone comes along to take their place?”

“Then I’ll deal with them,” I stand to my feet, brushing the skirt of my gown. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I turn to leave the purple room, I hear him also rise. He clears his throat as I get to the door and I pause, turning to look at him.

“You sing and play beautifully,” he nods his head toward the stage. “It caught me by surprise.”

A bashful smile crosses my lips at his compliment and the heat on my cheeks isn’t faked. “Thank you. Classically trained since I was a young girl. With knives and music…”

His own lips curve up into a smile, his head dipping down as farewell. It doesn’t surprise me when the shadows twist around him and he winnows away. I take my time returning back to the family estate, the cool air of the underground city chilling my bones. It’s late but there’s still many fae milling about. I keep to myself as I finally get home, the entire house oddly still. There aren’t even any servants in the foyer which I find strange but I don’t go seeking anyone out either.

I get to my room and begin to undress for a bath. I let my gown fall to the floor as I take the many pieces of jewelry off of my body. I know that come tomorrow night, I’ll have to put on that cold and deadly mask I was trained to wear from my childhood. A shiver runs down my spine and disgust swells in my stomach. I rub my face with my hand as I try to push those feelings aside.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

When I wake in the morning, the estate is still quiet. I glance toward the clock on the wall and see that it’s just after dawn. I reluctantly climb out of bed before I prepare for the day. I pick a simple sage colored dress and braid my hair into one long rope. It’s a bland look for me but simplicity is best with the work I’ll have to do today.

There’s a moment where I wonder if it’s worth it, if getting out of the Hewn City is really worth covering myself in the blood of others. But I remember that promise, that glimspe of the world outside that Rhysand had shown me. I close my eyes as I see those beautiful streets of colored buildings, the starry night above the sea. It’s not that I’ve never been outside of the Hewn City but the freedom from my family that he promises. I sigh heavily and make my way from my room to the dining room.

My family is already there, minus my older brother, so I take my seat after greeting my mother with a kiss to her cheek. My father is too absorbed in a report he’s reading to have even noticed my presence. I take it for a blessing from the Cauldron. I start to eat but keep the meal light so I’m not weighed down from food.

“Ravaen,” my father says from the head of the table, still reading his report. “With your brother out of the house, I expect you to sit in on the meetings I’ll be having today.” He looks up for just a moment, a sneer on his lips. “And I expect you to be on your best behavior. The fae coming today have sons that are of good standing. Sons you could marry down the line, since you failed at catching the High Lord’s eye.”

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. If only he knew just how well I did catch Rhysand’s attention. I offer him a small smile as I drink from my cup of tea. “Of course father, as you wish.” My mother cuts me a look at the sarcasm in my words but I ignore it. “What are these meetings about?”

“Does it matter?” my younger sister, Zoe, cuts in. She twirls a strand of her brown hair around her finger. “You get to meet the fathers of the males you might marry. That should be your focus sister.” She drags her green eyes up and down my body and frowns. “You should go change. That dress makes you look insipid.”

“This dress makes it easier for me to move in. In case someone decides to test father today,” I shoot her a wicked grin to which she rolls her eyes. “Dear sister, don’t let the idea of being bred off to some lord’s son is what everyone wants.”

“It’d be better than remaining a club whore who sells herself for information,” she snarls and anger flares in my chest.

“You-!”

“Silence,” father’s voice raises just enough to cover mine. His temper is written all over his features. I swallow against the knot in my throat as his rage focuses on me. “Ravaen. You’re still going to that damned music bar? I’ve told you before that you’re not to go there any longer.”

I glare at Zoe before looking back at him. “I hardly frequent anymore, only when it’s to investigate for work. And I don’t ‘sell myself’ by performing music.”

“Maybe not but you damage the family’s reputation by making yourself a item to be gawked at,” he growls. “Flirting around with all those males will ruin our chances of finding you a husband. Now that you’re of age, it’s time for you to settle down.”

“Father’s right sister,” Zoe sticks her nose right back into our business. “But no one is going to want a used female like you. Especially after you were messing around with that lesser fae at your coming of age party.”

I don’t know why her words piss me off in the way that they do but pure and utter fury explodes from my chest. Darkness fills the room, my eyes glowing bright green as my power snakes across the room and throws her against the wall. Shadows and blackness seem to pull the light from the air as I rise to my feet. Zoe is trembling where she’s pinned, her own green eyes wide with fear.

“You need to learn your place Zoe,” I growl as I stalk around the table. “That lesser fae is twice the fae you’ll ever be. Lest you forget, he’s the High Lord’s spymaster and having his ear is a valuable asset.” I grab her face in my hand, my sharp fingernails digging into her cheeks. I can smell the acrid stench of piss as she wets herself. “Don’t forget who I am and what I can do.”

“That’s enough!” Father has risen from his seat and his own burst of power wipes away mine, but only because I let it. He’s behind me in a flash and he grabs my hair, shoving me to the ground. Zoe scrambles away and into our mother’s arms. “If anyone in this home needs to learn their place it’s you.”

Before I can even do anything, he’s winnowed us out of the dining room and into the training room. He shoves me again and turns to walk toward a cabinet. I don’t let fear come into my body as I see him pull a whip out of it. Defiance swirls in my eyes as he comes back over and grabs my hair again. He drags me to a wooden beam and throws me over it.

“Expose your back.”

“For what?” I hiss at him, glaring over my shoulder. “She needs to be shut up. Am I wrong? Is having Azriel’s ear not a blessing in disguise?”

“Not when you disobey,” his voice is flat with cold rage. “Expose your back. I won’t ask again.”

I bite my tongue, not wanting to infuriate his wrath even more. I turn away and carefully untie the laces of my dress, pulling it down to my hips before leaning on the beam. I don’t get the chance to prepare myself as he swings the whip and a cry leaves my lips. I can feel the welt burning as the whip comes down again. I don’t make a noise this time, my teeth sinking into my lip as I hold my wails back. 15 painful lashes later and he steps away. I pull the front of my dress back up to cover my chest, my cheeks wet from the tears of pain.

“Leave. I will call you when it’s time for the meetings.”

I hear his footsteps as he leaves the room and I finally allow myself to sag into the floor. I can feel the warmth of blood trickling down from those welts, my skin split in some places. No one comes to help me. Not my sister or my mother. Not a single servant. Alone yet again. I slowly climb to my feet, gritting my teeth as agony ripples down my spine. I stumble from the training room, dragging myself back into my bedroom.

It takes a long time for me to get back to my room, every shift of my muscles torture. It takes even longer for me to clean and dress my own wounds. Even with my fae healing, I know just from how wrecked my back is that it’s going to take days for me to properly heal. The dress I was wearing is stained with my blood so I change into a similar one that will cover the bandages wrapping my body.

I fall into my bed and wait for my father to call for me, exhaustion pulling at me. I receive a message from a servant around noon and drag myself from the bed, walking stiffly to one of the drawing rooms. Four men are waiting inside, excluding my father, and I fight to keep the scowl off my face as I see who it is. Every step is met with crippling pain but I can’t let them see any hint of weakness.

“Well, well, well,” Vyllen sneers from where he sits in a plush chair. “I’m surprised to see you here. Tired of fucking lesser males?”

I give him a ferocious grin, narrowing my eyes to a threatening glare. “How could I?” I look him up and down as I stroll past. “They fuck so much better than High Fae. Bigger too.”

He growls, his nostrils flaring. The other three males in the room are clearly stifling their laughter. “What do you know? It’s not like you ever let me get a taste.”

I laugh brightly as I stop next to my father’s desk. “I’d never bend over for trash like you.”

“You-“

He doesn’t get to finish as the door opens again and my father steps into the room. The four males rise to their feet, bowing their heads as he stalks toward the huge chair that makes his would be throne. My father sits down in the chair, his eyes not even looking toward me.

“Lord Thaes,” Kaen, a black haired lord, greets him.

“My friends,” my father addresses them as they sit back down. “How goes our efforts?”

“Well,” Neir, Kaen’s twin brother, says from where he leans back into the cushions of the couch. “Our associates are in a good place. The course we have for the ball is well on its way.”

“Excellent. What about your people, Landras? Last we spoke, you were having issues finding the…additive we spoke of.”

Landras’s eyes dart toward me but I make a show of acting bored and uninterested as I pick at my nails. “We’ll have to use a…alternative method. Unfortunately it’s just the wrong time of the year and those who have it aren’t willing to part with it.”

Each word is a piece of the puzzle that I am to solve. I let each sentence from the lords bounce around in my head. Additive definitely means some sort of poison since it’s season specific. There are quite a few poisons that don’t grow during this time of year so I need to narrow it down to what Landras would have access to. They seem to have plans for the ball and they seem to know the High Lord is going to be there, even though he’s never officially announced it.

“Lord Thaes,” Vyllen sits up, nodding his head toward me. “Not to question your decisions, but why is the lovely Ravaen here and not Brys? I thought he was working with us.”

My blood runs cold at the mention of my older brother and it takes everything in me not to look horrified. Just what has he gotten himself into? Brys is the only person in my family who ever had any sort of compassion for fae. My eyes dart toward my father at the same time his meet mine. A challenge. A threat.

“Brys is currently dealing with our allies in the other courts. He won’t be back in time for the ball. However,” his slithering gaze moves toward Vyllen. “Ravaen has found herself in the good graces of the High Lord and his…friends.” I keep my face still as he hisses the word. “She will be the distraction we need.”

“My Lord,” Vyllen scoffs at his words, looking at me with disgust. “Can we trust your her? After all, just last night my brother spotted her at Penrith with the shadowsinger.”

Shit.

“I don’t think you should trust her with our business. No matter how skilled she may be.”

My father’s stare doesn’t falter, his face as solid as stone even though I feel that cold rage emanating from his body. He didn’t know that I met with Azriel last night and I was hoping to keep it that way. I know I need to cover my ass and do it now before my loyalty comes into question. I let out a tinkling laugh, batting my lashes at him as innocently as I can.

“Come now, Vyllen,” I purposely leave off his title just to get further under his skin. “You asked when I arrived if I was done fucking lesser fae and yet you act surprised when I’m caught doing just that.” He bristles, teeth gritting together. “Pathetic. If you’re going to try and sever my father’s faith in me, think of something more clever next time.”

“Don’t worry about Ravaen, Lord Vyllen,” father intertwines his fingers together, leaning casually back into his seat. “Should she fail us or tell the shadowsinger and the High Lord about our plans, there will be retribution. Someone very dear to her will be punished for it. With their life.”

He doesn’t need to say his name for me to know exactly who he’s talking about. My brother has always been the only one in this family to have any sort of compassion for others and I owe him much and more for the way he took care of me when no one else did. If he’s threatening Brys, that means he’s not working for him like I thought. He must have blackmailed him just like he is me. My blood boils with anger but my gut rolls with nausea. I have to keep myself cool even as bile rises in the back of my throat.

I close my eyes for just a moment, shifting on my feet even though it causes the welts on my back to burn. When I open them, I look directly at Vyllen with an over playful smile. “Don’t worry, Vyllen. Azriel tells me all sorts of sultry little secrets when we meet.” I see all four of the visiting lords visibly cringe as I use his name so fondly. “I’m sure some of them will come in handy.”

“I’m sure,” Vyllen’s words drip with venom as he crosses his arms over his chest.

I turn to my father who is watching our interaction very carefully. “If I may ask, what is this plan exactly? Clearly you’re using some type of poison to harm the High Lord and his two lackys. Is it to kill them or weaken them?”

“That information shall remain within the few who know it,” he nods toward Landras who returns the motion. “You are to distract and give the High Lord’s Inner Circle the laced wine we will have prepared.”

“Kier doesn’t want his daughter harmed. He thinks he can still use her even after she debased herself,” Nier sneers as he glances at me. He clearly thinks the same about me.

“Kier is a part of this?” My brow raises in question.

“No. The spineless prick refuses to help us overthrow Rhysand due to his position as steward and his leadership over the Darkbringers,” Kaen shakes his head. “And yet he still wants us to deliver his daughter safely.”

“Enough,” my father waves his hand and silences the room. “Ravaen, you are dismissed.”

My jaw clenches as he tells me to leave just when I was getting some good information. There is no fighting the order though so I bow stiffly and leave the room. I hear Vyllen make a snide remark as the door closes but the blood is rushing so loudly in my ears that I can’t make out his words.

Time is running out; the thought of the ball being less than two weeks away is weighing down on my soul.

I need to get word to Azriel and my brother. And I need to do it fast.

#a court of thorns and roses #azriel #acotar #original character #story #azriel x reader

10 notes · View notes