#awkward-star-lord

[stealingpotatoes]

hands you all this cal to announce i’ve FINALLY finished fallen order (by which i mean i finally picked it up again after those couple hours i played a few months ago and then finished the whole game in 2 days lol)

[thechaoticfanartist]

(banner by @arrthurpendragon )

Chapter 27: Cracked Hearts

 Obi-Wan turned to Grim. “We must speak with the Council immediately about what happened,” he told her.

 She bit the inside of her cheek nervously. “Shouldn’t we go to the healers first?” she asked him, aware of their shared injuries. 

 Obi-Wan considered that for a moment. “Yes, you especially,” he agreed. Knowing Grim got the worst of it.

 She crossed her arms and looked up at him, giving Obi-Wan a look the Jedi Master was all too familiar with at this point. “Master, you better be going with me. I know you’re injured too.”

 Obi-Wan sighed. The Force seemed to give him the most stubborn padawans it had to offer. “Alright Grim.”

 “Good, because we can tell the Council once our injuries are treated. I’m not just trying to get out of telling the Council about…” she trailed off.

 “I would hope not,” he replied, already knowing what she was going to say. “I wish you had told me.”

Read On A03

Beginning

Masterlist

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @roseofalderaan @keoxus  @tranakin-thighhighwalker @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @kohtoyah @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi @arrthurpendragon @bluejay-in-write

[monyacchiinno]

Yeah, turns out up until this very moment i hadn't posted this first attempt of drawing darth vader in my style. Suprisingly, it's pretty good considering the art clash here lmao--

[gay-dorito-dust]

Benji Blackwood fic idea: apparently he’s a shy, honourable nobleman but an absolute unhinged feral warrior in battle. I can just imagine him being super sweet with his spouse but unleashing hell to the people that hurt her?

I live for protective characters ahaha

Taglist: @pearldaisy

You didn’t know what to think of Benjicot Blackwood, you really didn’t. All you knew of the man was the stories told of how much of a rabid dog he was in the heat of battle, that the moment he gets going he’s an ruthless and unstoppable force who smiled in the face of death.

The definition of a monster on the battlefield.

So when you finally met him you were confused, for Benjicot was anything unlike the terrifying man in the stories you’ve been told, but an awkward and somewhat shy man who’s kind smile had you feeling a light floating sensation within your chest. Benjicot Blackwood had to be the sweetest, most kindest nobleman you have ever had the pleasure to meet in the Riverlands. It also didn’t help that he was a handsome man on top of that too, with his beautiful eyes and well structured face, which helped somewhat but wasn’t the most important thing to you in any regard and merely an added attribute.

‘I had a feeling your feet would have you wandered off here.’ He says with a smile that reached his eyes before making himself at home by taking up the space beside you.

‘And a good morrow to you my lord.’ You greet him as you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making your head comfortable against his shoulder, glad that it was him who had found you rather than some wandering stranger. Ben sighs as he feels himself relax beneath your sweet affection, resting his head atop of yours as his hand reaches to intertwined with yours, a reminder that this was real and that you were real because to Ben you felt more of a dream then anything on most days and he didn’t wish to wake from this dream if it meant being by your side. ‘How many times have I told you to just call me Ben.’ Ben asks you softly, pressing a kiss to your head, already knowing the answer but just wanted an excuse to hear your voice.

You shifted to look him in the eyes and smile. ‘Too many to count?’

‘Too many to count indeed.’ Ben echoed in a lighthearted tone. ‘I swear you do this just to provoke me my darling.’ He adds as he looks at you just as the light catches his eye from between the leaves of the tree you sought shade under, making him appear more beautiful than he already was as you felt his calloused hand gently caress the back of your hand. It was strange, knowing that the man of the many stories and had the rough hands that further proved those stories of his unkept rage in battle true, could ever hold something or someone as gently and as softly as he did you.

You kiss his cheek again, finding it increasingly difficult to not grasp his face and kiss him on those plush lips of his, your silently cursed Ben for making you feel like that as you found yourself pressed further into his side, looking at him as though he had hung the stars in the sky in your honour. ‘Why would you say such a thing my lord?’ You said innocently enough but the spark of desire within Ben’s eyes were evident as he moved to rest his head against yours while he whispers huskily.

‘For you are well aware enough of the effect it has over me when it’s coming from your lips specifically.’

Before you could say anything in response a group of Brackens had came out of seemingly nowhere, snickering, and the sweet Benjicot Blackwood you had come to fall for was pushed aside for the man you’ve heard tales of as he moved to stand up in response of seeing his house rival.

‘Mind fucking off back home Bracken.’ Ben practically spat the name as though it were poison in his mouth.

‘Why? So you and your little beloved can have a little moment of privacy?’ The man in Bracken house colours said humourlessly as he looked over Ben’s shoulder to look at you. ‘Why ain’t you a pretty thing, Blackwood here is lucky to have you warm his bed I’m sure of it.’ You fought back the urge to smack the vile looking grin off of his face that brought forth a rage you didn’t know you had.

Ben must’ve felt your anger from where he stood as he moved himself so that he was in the Bracken’s line of sight, staring him down with a glare that contrasted the softness that was seemingly only reserved for your eyes only, or anyone that wasn’t a Bracken that was. ‘Keep my lady’s name out your fucking mouth.’ He seethed, jaw tense as his clenched his fists, readying himself for the inevitable fight that was about to come.

The dirty blonde haired man looked at Ben as though asking with his eyes if he was being serious and almost burst out laughing when he saw the look of pure rage encompass his entire face. ‘Oh, oh you’re being serious? Is Blackwood getting mad that his lady might have wandering eyes?’ Ben took a sharp inhale at the thought of this cunt being anywhere near you, his most dearest. The man was trying to get under his skin and he was succeeding, he knew he was in the way Ben looked more and more like a man on the verge of snapping.

Testing his luck, the dirty blonde from house Bracken took a step closer towards Ben but before his foot could touch ground or his words leave his mouth, Ben already had him tackled to the ground within a heartbeat and punching the absolute shit out of him; all the while as his little friends ran away scared that they’d be next in line, uncaring that their leader was pleading for them to help him.

The fight was severely on sided from what you could see, Ben had already broken the man’s nose and his knuckles were bruised, but in the midst of the all the adrenaline he was feeling in that moment the pain was forgotten as he kept punching the dirty blonde Bracken with the foul mouth, only until he was satisfied with his work and that the Bracken was rendered unconscious.

You didn’t move or say anything as Ben stood over the beaten and bloodied man with a crazed look in his eye, unsure of how to feel, before he looking back at you with that softness and care you came to adore. ‘Are you okay?’ He asks. It wasn’t until now did you see that the Bracken did manage to clip Ben on the mouth with something sharp, causing it to spit the skin and made him bleed, but you couldn’t help but find the sight of Ben in the aftermath of a fight oddly attractive; his chest was heaving, his hair disheveled and his knuckles both bruised and bloodied.

Your silence didn’t sit right with Ben as his brows furrowed and a lump in his throat formed as he crossed over to you, holding your face in his hands, snapping you out of your daze as you found yourself distributing your face between his beautiful eyes and his busted lip. ‘I didn’t scare you did I?’ He asks, worried of what you’ll say but when you placed your hands over his own, keeping him there as a soft smile graced your lips.

‘Scared? No, oh my gods no Benjicot, you didn’t scare me.’ You reassured him, looking him over in pride and utter adoration, ‘my god you’re anything but scary, my darling you are simply Devine.’ You add sincerely and that was enough for Ben to press his lips to yours despite the cut, licking at your lower lip to deepen the kiss as you happily complied, melting into him as he held you protectively in his arms where nothing could bring you harm.

[corrodedbisexual]

Modern-ish Steddie AU where they meet in jail.

Steve shouldn't even be here; he got arrested for shoplifting, but it was all a misunderstanding. He was actually trying to prevent a shoplifting when he saw a couple of kids stuffing chocolate bars into their jacket pockets. They bolted, and he chased after them; unfortunately, he was still holding a bottle of (rather expensive) wine in hand as he did that, so he ended up the perceived cause of the blaring store alarm while the two shitheads escaped with zero consequences.

The store's got security cameras. So it will probably be fine, right? It will all be resolved soon enough. Steve just has to wait.

What makes him more nervous is the guy he's sharing the cell with.

Wild curly hair, tattoos all over his exposed arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt, the man wears orange like he was born in it. He seems to be about Steve's age, in his early 20s, but it's hard to tell. When Steve's brought in, he's lounging carelessly on his bed, trying to fold a piece of toilet paper into what looks like a crane.

The guy looks dangerous; who knows what could provoke him. Steve just settles quietly into the corner of his own bed at the opposite wall, drawing his knees up to his chin and trying to keep his head down. Literally.

Except every time he glances up, the man's rather intense stare is on him. Five minutes into this awkward silence, Steve can't handle it anymore, so he clears his throat and speaks up, still choosing to look at the floor.

"So, uh... what are you in for?"

He cringes immediately. It's probably the worst possible question to ask, and one most likely to get you a punch in the face. But when Steve looks up, he finds his cellmate fully grinning, now busying himself with tearing the toilet paper into little bits.

"Oh, just a bit of murder," he answers casually. "Our lord Satan requires sacrifice, you know."

Steve's almost convinced the guy's fucking with him (because surely, murder suspects are placed in separate cells from the minor offense folk, right?) but he's still a little terrified.

The guy (Eddie, Steve finally learns the name, although that might not be a real one) keeps talking, throwing balls of paper into the toilet by the wall. He keeps missing; there's little bits of white all over the floor already.

He says he's been to prison twice. Grand theft auto and arson. Escaped both times, apparently. He's planning an escape right now, too. Goes on, with a manic grin and wild gestures, about how one of the guards is actually a member of his cult, has got him covered.

It all has to be bullshit. It has to be. Steve doesn't dare comment on it, because at the small chance that it's actually true, he's fucked if he pisses this guy off.

A single paper ball finally lands inside the toilet, and Eddie whoops so loudly that Steve almost jumps.

"Aaaand the crowds cheer, boys'n'girls all going wild screaming his name!" Eddie yells, rapidly drumming his palms on his thighs. "It's the rising star of the new hot game of pottyball, it's Eddieee Munsooon!"

Yeah, so whatever the man was or wasn't lying about, Steve's not about to engage. Eddie's clearly all kinds of insane, he thinks, watching out of the corner of his eye as the guy, seemingly over his silly little game, starts wrapping the toilet paper around his head like a turban.

Except five minutes later, Eddie apparently decides that Steve's much better entertainment than toilet paper. He rolls off the bed and strolls across the tiny cell, stopping right in front of Steve, who in turn is doing his best to become one with the concrete wall behind him. With a shit-eating grin, Eddie strikes a pose, hip jutted out and one hand trying to keep the unsteady headgear in place.

"D'you think I look like a beautiful prince, Stevie?" He asks, batting his eyelashes. (Oh god, why did Steve tell him his real name, what was he thinking.) "Would you go on a magic carpet ride with me?"

Steve can't help it. He bursts out laughing. It almost sounds like Eddie's trying to flirt with him, except Steve stands by his insane conviction, because who the fuck flirts like that?!

The laughter doesn't seem to deter Eddie. He's grinning even wider now, and then he plants both hands on the bed on each side of Steve and leans in, tilting his head.

"Well aren't you pretty when you smile, princess."

Cold sweat runs down the back of Steve's neck as a sudden implication of what might be happening here hits him. He's only heard about it from like, movies and stuff, but does this actually happen? Oh shit. Is Steve gonna become this guy's prison bitch? Jail bitch, technically?

What's worse, a tiny voice in Steve's head suggests that maybe it's not so bad, actually. Eddie's a lunatic, but at least he's hot. (Really hot, if Steve's honest with himself.) And terrifying, so nobody would mess with Steve so long as he's Eddie's... whatever.

Thankfully, Steve's saved from further contemplating his hypothetical future prison life by a key rattling in the cell's lock; Eddie immediately leans back and jumps across the room, so by the time Chief Hopper steps through the door, he's already sitting cross-legged on his bed, hands folded in his lap, a picture of pure innocence.

Hopper turns to Steve first, something apologetic in his voice as he says, "We viewed the security camera footage, you're free to go, Harrington."

With a relieved huff, Steve scrambles to get up. Meanwhile, Hopper turns his attention to Eddie, regards the half-fallen-apart ridiculousness on his head, rolls his eyes and heaves a tired-sounding sigh.

"You too, Munson. Next time someone dares you to streak through a public space, just pick truth instead, would ya?"

Ten minutes later, they both walk outside in their street clothes. Well, Steve's in his street clothes; Eddie's only garment is a thin grey medical blanket Hopper's helpfully provided him with. Eddie's wrapped it around himself like a toga.

"So..." Steve turns to him and smirks. "How much exactly of what you said in there was total bullshit?"

Eddie cackles at the question. "I'd say about... ninety percent. I clearly am a rising star of pottyball, you know." He waits a beat for Steve to laugh, then adds, "And you do have a very pretty smile."

Steve bites his lip, feeling heat in his cheeks at the compliment. In the light of day, outside the cell, it's like he sees Eddie for the first time, in his silly blanket toga, squinting at the bright sunlight. And he feels ridiculous about ever thinking this man could be dangerous. Insane? Probably. Full of shit? Oh, definitely. Hot? Yes, very much. Dangerous though? Laughable.

And so, Steve finds himself asking, "Wanna get coffee and tell me something real about yourself?"

Eddie looks surprised by the offer, his smile turning a little bashful, and he hides behind a lock of hair before looking down at himself and chuckling.

"I'm probably gonna need some clothes first."

"Nah," Steve teases, briefly checking him out. "You're rocking this outfit."

"And you're absolutely right, I am, but unfortunately this thing is about five seconds from falling apart," Eddie pointedly fixes the half-loosened knot on his shoulder. "And something tells me Hopper won't be so lenient about repeated public indecency."

Steve giggles and finally takes pity on the guy. "Okay, my car's parked, like, two blocks from here. I have some clean gym clothes you can borrow."

"Lead the way, pretty boy," Eddie grins and follows him with a goofy little twirl.

Divider credit

[astralis-ortus]

ways to say 'i love you'

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— an awkward phrase for him, so he resorts to showing his affection instead.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. pure fluff because i miss him :( warnings → very minor cussing (is saying ass includes as cussing?), just very domestic chan thingy a.n → again, i'm in my 'missing chan' hours and writing this at 2 in the morning was hopefully enough to lessen some of that feeling (it was not)(also this is absolutely not proofread)(who has the right mind to proofread at 2am AND after a crying sesh?) ⋆ see masterlist

chan’s a busy man—but it was never a problem for him to make time for you.

be it on the days where his schedules were dictated down to the second, or even worse—when he’s constantly away, for weeks on end, performing in cities where your days were the exact opposites of his nights, he would always make it a point that you know the thought of you never once leaves his mind.

captioned ‘was going on a stroll and came across this park, heh’ as he sent you a picture of him going on a swing, or ‘look at this giant ass churro!! hahah you’d definitely love it here’ when he went to an amusent park with his members on his day off, thousands of miles away from you. your gallery easily surpasses the tens of thousands count, and it’s all from the way chan remembers you in his mundane, everyday life.

chan would also make a connection between you and the small things around him.

his chunky chrome hearts beanie? yeah, it’s the one you said turned him into the wolfchan plushy he gifted you. his earbuds? oh, you stuck a glittery star shaped sticker on the case so you wouldn’t take the wrong one. his laptop? it still made him giggle when he remembered how panicked you were when he told you the thing wouldn’t turn on, only for him to then realize he just forgot to charge it (and he had to appease you from leaving him on read by promising to call as soon as his rehearsal ends).

even when everything is technically his, chan couldn’t help but leave traces of you in his memories of those things—because for him, everything is better with a touch of you in it.

chan loves taking care of you, but he can’t decide if he loves it more when you’re the one taking care of him.

don’t get him wrong—he’d still try very hard to be the dependable one in your relationship. it’s in his blood, he can’t help it... but what power does he have when you adorably said that you’ve been learning on how to take care of his curls, and how you wanted to try the products that just came in the mail earlier in the day. he’d have no choice but to obediently sit between your legs, taking glances of your furrowed brows through the mirror across while your fingers were busy making sure his hair finally turned into the glorious curls you’ve always longed it to be.

if by letting you take care of him made your eyes turn into the brightest constellation of stars he’s ever seen in his life, then he will forever allow you to take care of him.

also, let’s not forget how chan loves his dose of physical touch.

constantly being away never made the trips any easier for him. if any, the periods of actually being with you made it harder for him to ever leave. imagine going from constantly having your gentle body heat around him, to not having them for an extended period of time? lord, chan would give anything just to be able to feel the way your fingers absentmindedly trace figures on his palm while you were reading your books away, like that one night when you stubbornly decided to accompany his all-nighter attempt at his studio.

chan direly needs your touch—he direly needs you.

and after everything you’ve done for him,

after everything you’ve went through,

chan finally realizes that there’s one sure way to let you know that he loves you.

so the next time you sleepily said you think you’re going to bed,

or when you text him a random meme along with an ‘i miss you’  text on a regular thursday evening,

he’d make sure he didn’t forget to tell you the line

“i love you.”

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[itgirldraco]

do you have any fic recs?

yes!! so many!! please check the tags for each!

all time favorites:

way down we go: an absolute classic. werewolf harry, chronically ill utterly miserable draco, post-war in small town america. enemies to lovers slowburn with protective harry and hopelessly gay draco.

in hopes that you may drown: SO much of my art is based on this author's harry and draco. such a lovely fic. post-war, draco raising delphi and absolutely perfecting the stressed yoga mom vibe. harry is instantly smitten.

in our blood: about haunted houses, parenthood and growing to care for each other. I love this one.

you'll still find stone: arranged marriage. draco expects the worst and harry is an absolute sweetheart. angst but so heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

ANYTHING by corvetteclaire! their blood link and in the mirror series are severely underrated and genuinely took my breath away. some of my favorite writing and plots.

inside grey eyes: so so beautiful. quite dark and yet exceptionally hopeful. all about draco's recovery from a nightmare situation and harry's unending support. (mind the tags!!)

anything by tessa crowley!! an absolute gem in the fandom with an impressive variety of works.

the mirror of ecidyrue series: perfection.

in your arms, rests my world: “You make me feel safe, Potter. You keep me safe.” yeah..yeah. (mind the tags!!)

anything by toxik_angel tbh..one of my favorites is infairitance even though it’s incomplete; fairy draco is a game changer

oxytocin: angst, angst, angst, and so much cuddling. slowburn in the best way possible.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm: i read this some time ago but i remember adoring it.

Diffraction Patterns (I Don't Know How to Forget You): another incredible old read .

everything by beloved @rockingrobin69 !! this is one my favorites ever i never stop thinking about it

fluff/humor:

manlet: PLEASE read this one! so so cute and adorable and hilarious ft sweet giant harry and tiny angry draco and wickedly funny narcissa. will definitely open your eyes to small draco.

screw you: extremely funny and extremely hot.

like a star across my sky: SUCH a good fic! feels like a romcom.

title of their sex tape: as funny as it sounds.

flirt: really sweet. disaster flirty draco and awkward yet charmed harry.

married to a brute (ongoing): genius and hilarious

smut:

it beats me black and blue: absolute perfection. no notes.

let me roll it: so delicious. clueless mess draco and grumpy harry who hates everyone except draco.

his little something: size difference excellence

scenes of surrender: a combination of smut, love, recovery and caretaking

a perfect fit: hung harry and size queen draco

come up for air: veela draco

fawning for you: harry is completely obsessed with draco's videos. very cute, muggle setting.

burning the ground: creature fic

ongoing/other faves:

one elephant at a time (ongoing): i recommend this fic to EVERYONE. genuinely incredible. think yellow wallpaper, jane eyre, crush by richard siken, and the author mentions being inspired by my dark vanessa as well. so essentially a modern romance with a dark gothic backstory. every single sentence in this fic stands out to me. every characterization, every conversation, is just so honest and genuine. also!! draco has a cat called lady di!! and he loves to wear earrings! (mind the tags!!)

within the hollow crown: more of pre-drarry tbh. such an interesting plot!! harry grudgingly cares for an increasingly spiraling draco who is except under close and constant watch by the dark lord-every second of his sixth year. currently has an ongoing sequel.

imperfection (ongoing): another fic by robin! and another of my all time favorites, so so lovingly written and so tragic and lovely and heartbreaking. really digs into draco's psych and his manic mindset and constant spiral BUT there is light at the end of the tunnel and so much love surrounding him even though it's hard for him to see it. (mind the tags!!)

saviour series (ongoing): wouldn't necessarily call this drarry? more of a stockholm syndrome gothic novel type of fic but i recommend it all the same. the writing is truly extraordinary and the pacing is incredible. will leave you breathless. part one is complete. (mind the tags!!)

perspective series (ongoing): the original books with alpha harry, omega draco in gryffindor, and an adorable friendship dynamic between the golden trio and draco. really sweet, and super interesting. no romance as of yet but there are little moments.

tales of the potters: very interesting take on the arranged marriage trope! i recommend all of this author's works; they have a gorgeous way with words and their work really brings harry and draco to life.

the veiled boy (ongoing): one of the most intriguing recent fics i've read. really delves into character dynamics in such a realistic and refreshing way and draco is so endearing in it. every chapter has gorgeous illustrations.

never in extremity: reread this one recently. equal parts heartbreaking and heartwarming. (mind the tags!!)

[sednas]

is this self indulgent? probably. am i ashamed? absolutely not.

NSFW, fem!reader, I tried to write it as a third person point of view to change a bit

thinking about men who love nerdy little girls. thinking about big and intimidating boyfriend and his shy girlfriend always hiding behind his broad shoulders. thinking about confident and cocky men who love girlies with glasses and sweet and awkward girls who never know what to do with their hands and hate eye contact.

he does all the talking while his gf is behind him, he makes phone calls for her and calls a waiter when someone made a mistake with her order. he always has his arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her closer whenever he feels like it or when he's jealous. he takes the side of the road when they're walking together and he always has his hand resting on her thigh when he's driving.

he loves to make her embarrassed in public, running his hand over her thigh, playing with the hem of her skirt or the loop of her jeans, a wicked smile on his lips when she tries to jerk his hand away, her face visibly flustered.

he loves to distract her when she's reading a book, coming up behind her, his hands slowly grazing her waist, then her chest, his fingers ghosting over her covered nipples while she buries her head in the book she's trying to read. of course, he lets her read quietly... sometimes... just to hear her rant passionately about it once she's done reading it.

he loves watching nerdy movies with her, star wars, lord of the rings, spider-man, dark knight... he smiles every time she explains something he didn't quite understand or when she gives him a fun fact about a scene that just happened. but sometimes these movies are so long tho, and watching her face contorts with pleasure while he's playing with her is so much more entertaining.

"you're almost there princess, just let it happen."

he always chooses the right words to make her lose it, his skilled fingers drawing circles around her bundle of nerves until her body starts quivering from overstimulation and she lets herself fall into his chest. he does the same when she's playing video games, slowly letting himself fall on the floor, forcing her to open her legs while she's looking at him, eyes full of anticipation.

he tells her to keep playing while his warm tongue is already tracing up and down her slit. he stops every time she lets go of the controller to grab his hair, and she ends up like a moaning mess with his head buried between her opened legs, trembling hands trying to keep playing the game as her character keeps dying over the same spot, her boyfriend giving her clit a hard suck every time she tries to focus and play properly.

thinking about big and intimidating bf who is an absolute sucker for your shyness, loving how you always try to look away from his adoring gaze and how pretty you look when you finally give him what he wants and look up at him when he's fucking your mouth.

he never lasts long when you look into his eyes through your lashes.

toji, gojo, sukuna, eren, hanma, ran, dabi, keigo, kuroo, bokuto, your fav <3

masterlists

[cookybananas]

Do I Know You? - Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader {Part. I}

a/n: an alternate universe/timeline!au fic! this is the first part, the second part is in the works!

summary: Where Darth Vader is sent on a mission and finds himself traveling through another timeline and meets another version of you where you aren't dead. part II: Do I Know You? II

"I am going to have a few words with you once I get back Sheev..." Vader thought to himself. His large frame was trapped in a tiny capsule that was rapidly moving downwards onto the surface of Tatooine.

His master had sent him to retrieve the Death Star plans on a rebel ship when all of sudden, the rebels managed to crowd him into this tiny capsule and drop him out of the ship. 

There was a faint beeping heard below him. He looked down at his hand and noticed a device strapped on the back of his hand. Those damn rebels. Vader toyed with the device, hoping to shut off the beeping, but the beeping increased and flashed the words on the device:

Coruscant, 20 BBY 

"Huh?" He thought to himself once again, what could this possibly mean? The light above him began flashing red. Out of the small window of the capsule, the dark space soon turned into a blue clouded sky. The Sith Lord let out a sign of frustration, how the hell did I get into this position?

The capsule came to an abrupt stop when it had landed on the ground, sending the Sith Lord face forward into the door. Vader groaned to himself. The door slid open, revealing a dark alleyway, similar to the alleyways in the Underworld in Coruscant.

Vader walked out of the capsule, turning around to admire the machine that the rebels had managed to squeeze him in. Interesting... The Sith Lord thought to himself before making his way towards the dimly lit streets of Coruscant.

The people off the streets eyed the tall, towering figure as Vader strolled along the sidewalks of the Underworld.

"Do you want to buy some deathsticks?" A Rodian man said as he approached the tall dark figure with death sticks in his hands. To which Vader took a step back and eyed the man.

"No..." He let out, debating on whether to take the deathsticks or not. This day was already terrible as is with how everything had gone.

"Are you sure? You'll have a great time-" Vader raise his hand, force choking the reptilian humanoid.

"I would rather not you pest. Now, you will go home and rethink your life."

"I-I will to go home and rethink my life." The man nodded up and down. Vader released his grasp, allowing the Rodian to scramble away from him.

There was whispering and murmurs from other onlookers, witnessing what the Sith Lord just did.

"Did he just use the force?"

"You saw that right?

"Do you think he's one of those Jedi?"

The Sith Lord looked around the people who backed away from him. Pathetic, he thought. He needed to find Palpatine and tell him that mission was a failure, the rebels had gotten away, and he was unable to get the plans. Meaning, that there will be a severe punishment waiting for him once he returns to his Master.

Vader walked into the nearest club and approached the Twi'lek bartender, hoping to find a speeder or station to get him out of here.

"Where is there nearest station? I need to get to the Emperor. 5127th level." Vader said to Twi'lek man who had just gotten done serving a drink to a customer.

"Emperor? Where on Hoth did you come from? Do you mean the Chancellor?" The man questioned, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

Vader sat in brief silence, thinking to himself, Chancellor? He could have sworn Sheev didn't go by that name anymore.

"Y-Yes, the Chancellor...Do you know where I can find him." Vader finally let out, after moments of awkward silence.

"Well, you won't have much of chance finding her. She's either too busy in her office or helping the people clear the debris that was left from the Clone Wars ever since the previous Chancellor was killed."

"She...? How strange." Vader said to himself. "And remind me, what is the name of the Chancellor is again?"

"Kriff dude, did your head get smack with a bunch of Ewoks throwin' rocks at it?" The man questioned, now cleaning cups with his towel.

Vader sat in silence again, staring down at the man. Debating on whether he should have killed his man sooner, or wait until he got a response. Luckily, he chose the latter.

"Chancellor Y/N L/N is her name. She was the former Senator of Naboo before she was elected right after Chancellor Palpatine's death. There's rumors that she had a fling with a Jedi Knight, by the name of Anakin Skywalker-"

"Tell me. Where is she." Vader said, his tone revealing his impatience.

"Woah woah, don't you want me to finish telling-"

"Where is the nearest station. I will find her myself." He stated.

"O-okay fine. The nearest station is quite a distance. But we do have this old speeder at the back of-"

Before the bartender could finish, Vader had already made his way out of the club and around to the back to the speeder. Chancellor Y/N? It couldn't be possible. You were dead, but he needed to see it for himself.

-

"Your Majesty, do you think-"

"Who cares, she has already told you how she felt-" 

"Oh I wasn't talking to you-"

The doors of my office slide open, revealing Obi-Wan with a tray that had two cups on it. I smiled at him, to which he returned. But that smile soon turned into concern as he looked over at my two handmaidens who were having a little dispute.

"Are they still fighting about it?" Obi-Wan said, approaching me and handing me a cup of warm tea.

"Yes, yes they are." I responded, sipping and savoring the earthy taste of the tea.

"Chancellor! Chancellor!" A voice from outside my office called. I looked up at Obi-Wan who looked down at me. The doors to my office slid open, revealing Cal?

"Cal? What's the matter?" I said, now standing up from my chair and making my way towards him.

"T-There's. there's someone looking for you. We don't know who o-or what their name is." He breathed out, trying to catch his breath. "I'm just gonna take a seat here." before plopping himself on the loveseat.

"Astra, could you grab Cal a glass of water please?" Both my handmaidens stopped their bickering and turned to look at me.

"Y-yes of course your Majesty." Astra bowed, both handmaidens leaving the three of us in my office. I turned back to Cal with concern.

"Cal, take a moment to catch your breath. Now, what is this you heard of someone needing me?" I asked him, taking a seat next to him on the loveseat, my hand resting on his shoulder.

"Of course Chancellor. There are talks in the Underworld, that there is this dark figure, who I think is a force-user, is looking for you... I don't know if he's from another planet or something, but there's something off about that thing." Cal spoke, still breathless from running to get to my office.

"Thing?" I furrowed my eyebrows at his words. I looked up at Obi-Wan who was standing next to Cal, caressing his beard in thought.

"Well, it could be a droid of some sort. The thing sounds mechanical." Cal continued, gnawing at his lips nervously.

"Interesting Cal, do we perhaps have another other information of the individual?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"N-No Master, but I felt this dark energy from him. Almost as if it was evil, pure evil." Cal responded. He pulled out his holoprojector, showing footage of a tall dark mysterious figure force choking an innocent bystander.

Obi-Wan and I looked at each other before looking back at the hologram.

"He doesn't look like he would be friendly. Perhaps we may need to take action and find what this individual wants to do with you." Obi-Wan said, still stroking his beard. I thought to myself. How strange, what could I have possibly done that I was involved with this individual?

"We may need to tighten up security among the people and the rest of the sovereign powers. I don't want to draw too much attention to this. I already have much going on. Perhaps I'll bring this up to the Jedi council tomorrow morning and see what they think." I said sighing to myself, as I walked over to the large window that overlooked beautiful skies of Coruscant.

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, Cal sat there looking between us.

-

The skies of Coruscant were pitch black, but littered with stars in the sky. The Sith Lord arrived at the small landing pad with his airspeeder, just outside of a familiar penthouse. The penthouses and apartments in Coruscant were always open air. Since they were high up in the skies, the only way to get in was with an airspeeder or the elevators to the buildings. So it was fairly easy for Vader to walk into your penthouse without needing to break a sweat.

The Sith Lord made his way into the penthouse. The lights of every room were turned off, except for one. Light faintly emitted from a set of closed doors, assuming that was your room, Vader made a beeline towards your bedroom doors.

Even with his ultraviolet and infrared vision, it was still limited to where Vader missed the Jedi that was hidden behind one of the large pillars of the penthouse.

"You're not welcomed here. You are trespassing a politician's home and I advise you to leave this instant." A familiar voice spoke up.

"I will not leave until I see her, the Chancellor." The Sith Lord turned around, but did not see anyone behind him. Vader turned back around only to be met with Obi-Wan with his hand on the hilt of lightsaber.

"M-Master..." Vader let out, only for Obi-Wan to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Do we know each other?" Obi-Wan responded, his hand still resting upon his saber.

"Master, it's me... Anakin Skywalker." Vader spoke out to his former Master.

"Foolish nonsense, Anakin Skywalker is dead." Obi-Wan stated.

Both the Sith Lord and Master Jedi eyed each other, waiting on who would make the first move. After moments of deafening silence, Vader took off his helmet. Revealing his burnt, scarred face, and yellow Sith eyes. Obi-Wan watch him in disbelief, taking a step back from the Sith. 

"Obi? Obi-Wan are you there? Who are you talking to in there?" Your voice was muffled on the other side of your door. Anakin's desperate eyes darted over to Obi-Wan and to your door, hoping he'll say something.

"Y-yes Y/N! No worries, it was just a false alarm! It was just a hawk-bat!" Obi-Wan shouted.

"If you say so Obi. I'm heading to bed now!" You shouted in response. The light emitting from your bedroom doors shut off, leaving the entirety of the penthouse dark and only for the Coruscant moonlight to shine through the large windows.

Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed to himself. "You have some nerve for showing up here. And to say that you are Anakin Skywalker? Ludicrous." He spat at Vader.

-

part II: Do I Know You? II

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[prythianpages]

Shine Bright, Shine Far | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Cassian meets you for the first time. The exact person he needed, not knowing that you are also the exact person he's been dreaming of.

warnings: none? this is fluff, I guess?

word count: 2,012

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone fic!

As the Night Court's general, Cassian had faced countless battles, proving himself a formidable Illyrian warrior. He held the titles of Carynthian and Lord of Bloodshed. Winning was in his nature, a skill he had mastered. Or so he thought.

Because in matters of the heart, defeat was all he had come to know.

He tried not to let it bother him. Winter Solstice, his favorite holiday, was fast approaching. He looked forward to decorating the River House with Feyre, even though Azriel would begrudgingly fix it. Rhysand never cared much for such trivial things. It had become a tradition since the first year Feyre joined them, much like the annual snowball fight, another event he eagerly anticipated—after drinking the night away, of course.

Winter Solstice had always been a time of joy and happiness. Cassian loved his family and friends. But things are different now. Not a bad different, just different. Rhysand had his little family with Feyre and Nyx. Azriel and Gwyn were slowly but surely becoming a thing. Mor had taken to spending more time with Emerie. Amren remained obsessed with her Summer Prince. Elain and Lucien now lived in the Day Court, but they had come to the Night Court to celebrate among family. And Nesta? Last he heard, she was in Autumn.

It was a bittersweet feeling. He was happy to be among his loved ones, yet there was no denying the shadow that had settled over his usually fiery spirit. A sense of loneliness crept in as he watched his closest friends and family find love.

He tried his best to mask his feelings, believing he had succeeded. But of course Feyre had seen through it. Cassian had been making his way into the kitchen of the River house for a night snack when he ran into Feyre, Mor and Emerie.

“Get dressed! We’re going to Rita’s!” Mor had exclaimed and Feyre was quick to encourage him. The look in their eyes made it clear that they wouldn't take no for an answer. It was either go willingly or be dragged there by force. Cassian chose the former.

That’s how Cassian found himself at Rita’s with Mor and Emerie surrounded by pulsating music and vibrant lights. Mor had ordered them drinks and after an hour of drinking, an attempt at an awkward conversation over Cassian's love life was made. However, Cassian was able to defer it, quickly changing the topic into something lighter.

The drinks kept coming and another hour later, Mor and Emerie were twirling away on the dance floor, leaving Cassian alone in the private booth. Just as he intended. He wondered whether he should order another drink.

As he glanced toward the bar, his eyes were drawn to a pretty female in shimmering pink. She immediately caught his attention as there was a certain glow about her, but he noticed her gaze was fixated on a silver-haired male across from her.

With a sigh, Cassian worked to chug the last of his drink and decided it was time to leave.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

You let out a deep sigh as the thoughts you had tried to dance away finally caught up with you. The silver stars dangling from above seemed to mock you, twinkling along to the blaring music. It had been a week since your magic had failed you during the ritual, and although the stars had shown you they had not forsaken you, each day since then had brought a new struggle.

Your magic was waning and it worried you.

It’s why you found yourself at Rita’s. You had easily made friends with a group of blue-skinned fae, but you couldn’t keep up with them on the dance floor in your platform pink heels. Your body ached for a break, so you went to the bar and decided to people-watch—a favorite pastime of yours.

You gaze wistfully at your drink, swirling the purple liquid with a straw in one hand while propping up your chin with the other. Maybe it's time to call it a night and go wallow in your self-pity in the comfort of your home…

Shine bright, shine far, don't be shy, be a star, your mother’s voice echoes through your mind.

It was from a song she had made up for you. She sang it to you often as a babe, and when you were older, she reserved the song for days when you were feeling a little down. A reminder that you were meant to shine, no matter how difficult the journey.

If she were alive, she’d definitely be singing the song to you at this moment. But now, it’s her memory that sings it for you, always resurfacing when you need it the most.

She'll sparkle and glitter, and shimmer to the end...

And like always, mother is right. You would overcome this mountain. Climb it and reach the top and shine bright like the three stars over Ramiel do.

As you sit there, you feel a familiar, subtle tug within. Your magic, though weakened, responds to the environment around you. It picks up on the emotions, feeding off the joy and excitement in the air. Following that faint pull, your curious eyes find a fae male with silver hair that gleams like moonlight. His cat-like eyes are fixed on another male, who sits far from him and surrounded by his friends.

There's a look in those feline eyes that you know well. He tears his gaze away from the dark-haired male, whose neck glimmers with green scales. When you notice the dark-haired male stealing glances back at the silver-haired fae, your magic stirs like a whisper in the wind, your heart fluttering in response.

 Shifting in your seat with a sudden eagerness, you lift your head and signal at one of the bartenders. She's a pretty fae with delicate wings aglow behind her, a familiar face you've often seen but never learned her name. As she approaches, you lean in and quietly share your plan. Her brow furrows skeptically at first, and when she briefly scans the room, you fear rejection. 

Yet, when her eyes meet yours again, they widen with understanding and gives a nod.

Your heart continues to flutter, pink stardust dancing at your fingertips in anticipation. You watch as she delivers a drink to each of the males, a replacement for their previous ones. You had instructed her to make them believe the other had sent it. As the two males exchange glances, your magic begins to hum through your veins, pulsing louder with each passing moment. The air around you crackles with an electric charge, ready to burst forth.

When the two fae finally bridge the distance between them, blushing and smiling, your magic surges through you like lightning, sending a delightful shiver down your spine. A small, satisfied smile curves your lips.

Even with your magic faltering, you still had your touch.

Retrieving your heart-shaped compact mirror from your purse, you check your makeup and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss, mesmerized as your heart-shaped pupils pulse back at you. Still buzzing with the energy of your magic, you feel another tug. This time, it pulls you toward the dance floor.

Following the tug once more, you make your way through the crowded pleasure hall, purple drink still in hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of two fae dancing. There’s an awkward distance between them, as if hesitant to take that one step closer, and you wonder if that had been the source of the tug. 

The pink stardust dancing around your fingertips flutters through the dance floor and toward them. You wince when it gives a harsh push, sending the smaller fae crashing into her partner’s chest. Relief soothes your worry when it heeds the same results you had been hoping for. The taller fae catches her in his arms and the two share a look before continuing in their dance. This time, much closer and with gazes full of answered hope. 

Oh, how you love, love...

The thrill of your magic begins to wane, the once vibrant energy now fading into an indistinct hum. You decide that’s enough fun for the night. Yes, you still had that touch but you worried exhausting it as your magic was harder to control now. Just as you neared the exit, karma came for you as someone crashed into you much like your magic had done to that fae on the dance floor and sent you sprawling into something hard.

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

No, not something. 

Someone.

The sudden force sent your drink splashing, the cup falling to the floor with a resonant thud. Stars above, you cursed, hands flying to your mouth as you realized your drink had splattered across a pristine white shirt. Flustered, you avoid eye contact and immediately began apologizing, offering to fix it.

“It’s okay…Are you okay?”

The voice–a male’s– was surprisingly calm and deep. Very deep.

Acting on instinct, you’re murmuring the words to a small cleaning spell before you could stop yourself.  Pink magic slips from your fingertips but instead of vanishing, the stain deepens, the purple remnants of your drink taking on a darker hue against the canvas of white. Your eyes widen at the aftermath of your faulty magic.

“No,” you squeak out, finally answering your victim’s question. 

“I’ll send you a new shirt. Two, if you wish...” Your voice trails off nervously as you finally look up at your victim, realizing how tall he is. So tall his form towers over you easily, large membranous wings casting shadows over you. Your throat tightens and one heel lifts, ready to take a small step back

“Or three! One can never have too many white shirts as you clearly have seen…”

As your gaze travels upwards, you freeze, completely star-struck by the sight of the most handsome male you’d ever seen. Your heel meets the ground, body rooted to your spot.

Tall, strong, and muscular, he stands bathed in the vibrant, colorful lights of Rita’s. An ethereal glow dances along his dark hair and the scar that runs through one of his brows. Despite his rugged features, there is something strangely soft about him that draws you in.

And he seems oddly familiar, like you’ve seen him before, though you can’t place why.

“But how will you find me?” He asks, more amused than upset.

You should be relieved but you’re not even sure you’re breathing when his eyes meet yours. In the dim light, you can discern the hazel color of his eyes, so warm and inviting, and it takes you a moment to register that he had spoken to you.

“What?” You blink at him, still wide-eyed.

His lips quirk upwards. “How will you send me the shirts?”

“Well, the same way I just found you now,” you reply, your voice now steady despite your racing heart. “Magic.”

“Magic,” he muses, a glint beaming in his eyes.

“Mmm, I’ll throw in a free love reading too! As an extra apology…” you say, reaching for your small purse and pulling out one of your business cards. You practically shove it into his hands, forcing a bright smile to your face though it wavers nervously as he looks at it. “Oh, and don’t worry! A love reading requires minimum magic, no mishaps there. So don’t be shy!”

˗ˏˋ ★ ★ ˏˋ˗ 

“But this is how to find you…how will you find me?” Cassian can’t help the question, picking up on a fault in your words.

 But as he looks up from your business card, you’re already walking away.

He lets out an amused exhale, a tentative smile playing on his lips, the stain on his shirt long forgotten. He watches as you slip out of Rita’s like a shooting star. Swift and dazzling before vanishing into the night, leaving a sense of wonder in its wake.

A very bright and very pink shooting star.

And as he glances back down at the card in his hands, he finally takes a good look, the white stars on the card blinking back up at him, as if alive with celestial energy.

Stardust Soulmates. Find your path among the stars. He turns the card around, finding your information on the other side, your name glowing softly at him. Y/n D’Amore. Love witch.

“Love witch,” Cassian murmurs to himself, thumb brushing across the shimmering letters.

And in that moment, he realizes you are more than just a chance encounter. You are exactly who he needed. A gentle spark ignites from deep within...

The stars had, in fact, listened to him that night...

And perhaps this was a sign that his dreams were on the brink of coming true.

a/n: The song Love Witch's mother sings to her is actually the song from the Life Size movie, Be A Star. which might come back in the future. I made a poll for this part and it was a close call as to how Cas and you would meet. This approach was more of a flustered/shy/completely embarrassed one but worry not, the next time Cassian sees you, it will be at your shop and you'll be more self-assured and witty. I'm debating on whether Cas should drag Az with him too or go alone. Might make a poll of that too lol.

The second option was you failing in your match making skills and Cassian, who was seated next to you at the bar, calling you out on it. Either way, you were left flustered and giving him your business card.

[series masterlist]

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisuke , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! S/O seeing them maskless for the first time

Slashers x gn!reader

Including Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair,

Requested: yes

Warnings: mentions of killing, beefy murder boyfriends, sprinkle of angst, that cute shit

Michael Myers

I think seeing him without a mask would take awhile, he’s not one to reveal much about himself

It would probably just be out of the blue as well

You’d be chilling on the couch, reading or going on your phone or something

Although you never really heard him approach you’d feel his… presence

Glancing up and caught off guard by the fact you’re looking at skin, not an emotionless face of blank white

Probably drop whatever you’re holding from the shock of it

Michael has a large scar across his eye, (and depending on which timeline this is in, maybe also burns)

I see him as someone who isn’t self conscious of looks, despite the mask wearing

The mask is a representation to how he feels in a way, blank, I mean we all know he’s not unattractive by any scale

He wouldn’t say anything either, just stand there staring at you waiting

If this OG Myers, your silence is irksome

If this is RZ Myers, your silence is indicating he’s made the wrong move

Either way both versions are somewhat comforted when you slide off the cushions to make your way over

Warm palms gently caress the sides of his face

Don’t think he’s gonna close his eyes and lean into your hand all cutesy though, no way

He’s just staring, expressionless, into your eyes

Maybe he serves a classic head tilt

Kinda like silently asking, “what do you think”

Of course you’d just smile and lean in for a kiss

It’s slightly one sided but that’s okay, you love your brick wall

Jason Voorhees

Honestly, it was probably an accident

Like he gets some kind of injury, or something similar in the facial region

So naturally when he’s finished with his… “work”, he goes to fix it up

And in order to do that, he removes his safeguard

Jason knows he was seen differently as a kid because of his deformity, the mask is his safety net, a way to look at his reflection without becoming sick

So when it’s perched on the bathroom counter top, and you come waltzing in, let’s just say he imagined this differently

Never wanted to see you without the hockey mask

Even to kiss, he would just place the plastic to your skin

But now it’s just…

It’s really awkward

I’m not even gonna lie

Y’all just standing there, eyes wide staring at one another, you could hear a pin drop

He lunges for the mask but is stopped by a hand clutching his own

You probably didn’t even mean to do it, your body just reacted naturally

Now Jason can’t meet your eyes, he’s staring at the ground in shame

Not wanting to push any boundaries and touch his face, you just tug on the hand in your grasp

Slowly but surely, he meets your eyes

He looks, very comfortable, like lord take me now level uncomfortable

He expects disgust in your eyes, and is caught off guard by the stars twinkling in them

His entire body relaxes

He shoulders drop, his hand clasps with yours finally

And the two of you continue to gaze at one another

Although this time, instead of it being awkward, it’s love

Thomas Hewitt

I’d imagine if Tommy trusts you, at some point he’d let you take it off

It would probably be after a long day, everyone is tired

Especially Thomas

He’d been working in the Texas heat for hours, and no matter how tough this man is, we all need a break eventually

You’re sat in your shared bedroom, on the bed, something keeping you occupied

In strolls the man himself

He’s clearly exhausted, even showered still smelling of the usual sweaty musk

Taking a seat on the mattress beside you, his hair is partially over his face as he angles it to you

The silence is peaceful, even with his usual heavy breathing

Your hands gently caress his leather covered cheeks, leaning in to press a kiss to the bare skin of his forehead

As you go to pull away, ready to turn in for sleep, a much larger hand lands on one of your own

Big, wide, and a dark blue eyes watch your expression shift as his hand guides yours to the straps at the back of his mask

Now, Tommy didn’t sleep with his mask on

That’s a safety hazard

But, he only ever took it off once it was dark in the room, and always put it on before you woke up

The current apprehension in his eyes was melting away as you gradually began to smile

And Tommy just loved seeing you smile

Unbuckling the tough straps, you were quick to lay the now unnecessary item somewhere beside the two of you

Hoyt must be one dumb son of a bitch if he’s calling the face before you ugly

He has no nose, more than a few scars you’ve heard about before scattered across his delicate skin

You can practically hear his heart beating out of his chest

In attempts to quell them, you grin, pressing a soft kiss to his chapped lips

Although this only makes it beat faster

Vincent Sinclair

Bo’s fault

Like 99.99%

Vincent isn’t shy, he’s just reserved, let’s be clear

But that doesn’t mean he feels completely confident in himself, especially when it comes to you

So imagine one day you’re just trying to find Vincent

And instead of silence you’re beginning to hear shouting, specifically Bo’s shouting, echoing down the hall

Then a sharp clank of something breaking

This only quickened your pace until you were standing in the kitchen as well

Vincent was kneeling over his once whole mask, now split down the middle

“Bo can you give us a minute”

You didn’t bother to pull your eyes from the man on the floor, placing a soft hand on his back as you heard footsteps leave the rom

Long, dark hair covered his features, body slouched in a way that couldn’t be comfortable

He never wanted you to see him like this

He knew he wasn’t blessed with visual beauty

He just didn’t want you to inevitability leave when you discovered what he always hid away

But your hand was firm on his back, careful yet making sure you he knew you were there

“Vincent, do you want me to leave?”

Honestly yes

He probably does want you to leave

Get this over with and let him realize he’s alone again

But for some reason he slowly shakes his head no

The palm on his back moves past his hair, cradling his disfigured jaw

You don’t jump from the odd texture of the scarring, nor the bumps and ridges

It anchors him enough to face you, prepared for anything

Although he wasn’t prepared for the little smile on your face

Or the way you shuffled closer so you could place a gentle, chaste kiss to his scarring

Requests are open!

[gay-dorito-dust]

Second part to this old fic I made since ppl wanted a part two.

It was difficult but with some persistence, determination and fear of losing your grip on Benjicot several times, you single-handedly managed to get the young Blackwood lord to his bed just as Alysanne followed by a maester entered the chambers.

Alysanne, somehow able to read the emotions on your face, placed a hand upon your shoulder reassuringly as the maester got to work looking over Benjicot. ‘He’ll be okay.’ She assured you, smiling softly, ‘he’s tougher than he looks.’ She adds upon seeing that you weren’t so convinced. After all most of your childhood with Benjicot was spent knowing him as a sweet boy who could do no harm to anything or anyone, it wasn’t until someone was testing their luck with this, did you finally see just how capable Benji could be in a fight.

However despite this you still held that imagine of that sweet, awkward boy in your heart dearly, only to feel it ache and throb in pain when you saw him being dragged into Raventree Hall bloodied, bruised and on the verge of collapse.

‘I know.’ You sighed, wincing when you saw the injuries Benjicot sustained once the dried blood and mud was removed, there was surly going to be a scar on his upper lip and his nose would now forever would heal slightly crooked, but none of that mattered to you but seeing his stormy eyes once again to assure you himself that he was going to be okay. ‘But until he awakes, I shall assume that the Bracken did more damage than presumed.’

Alysanne smiled softly at you, finding your worry and protectiveness over her nephew as sweet as his protectiveness over you. In her eyes you and Benjicot were the perfect match and she would often remind him that he was of age where he should be looking for a betrothal, and every time she brings this up, Benjicot would always act like he didn’t hear her or act skittish and accidentally look in your direction without meaning to.

Benjicot was so oblivious that Alysanne has to reframe from bluntly suggesting that he should just marry you since he was so smitten with you, for she knew if she did then Benjicot would withdraw from asking you your hand in his own time. This doesn’t stop her from getting tired and on the verge of madness of seeing you looking at her nephew as though he hung the stars in the sky as he talked you about the traditions of house Blackwood. You were just as smitten with her nephew that she was one lining look away from announcing your betrothal to Benjicot herself, you were perfect for each other, but were far too skittish and fearful to see such truths in front of you both.

‘Then shall I take this as you volunteering to keep my nephew company during his healing?’ Alysanne asked, raising a brow at you as she saw you stiffen and become slightly flustered of being in close quarters with Benjicot for prolonged periods throughout the day, and potentially night.

‘I didn’t I-‘

‘Good, then you shall make sure Benjicot doesn’t do anything reckless upon awaking and keep him within his chambers until the maesters deem him healthy enough to venture out.’ Alysanne cuts you off and pats your shoulder just as the maester finished looking Benjicot over one last time before addressing you and Alysanne both.

‘The young lord shall make a full recovery but will require someone to oversee his healing progress.’ The maester then looks over at you with a kind smile, ‘I assume Lady Alysanne has assigned you that position?’ He then asks you as you look between the Maester and Alysanne, realising that no one was going to get you out of this, and sighed. ‘Yes, I shall oversee Lord Blackwood healing progress and promise to keep him within his room until further notice.’ You tell the maester who shares a look with Alysanne as she mirrors the look back at the Maester.

‘We shall leave you be then.’ Alysanne then said as she motioned for the maester to follow her out of Benjicot’s chambers, though not before giving you a knowing wink. ‘I wish you the best of luck with my nephew, he’s partially fond of you and would listen to you if he knows what’s good for him.’ She tells you but before you could ask her what she meant by that, the door shut and you were left with an unconscious Benjicot.

‘Y/n…’ you swore you heard him mutter under his breath, raspy and slightly breathless.

Or maybe not?

[whereserpentswalk]

There's an orc attending your college. Your city is pretty diverse, there's a lot of human cultures represented there, and even harpies and dwarves are common. But an orc is still a really rare sight. And she's not assimilated at all, she wears the symbol of the dark lord around her neak, and the strange black cloths from the wastelands she came from, and she always seems to have a gun somewhere on her. It's strange just to see an orc in person, she's not like the green skinned monsters you see in movies, her eyes are pitch black, and her skin is so pale you can see veins, she's muscular and tell but also strangely skinny, and her teeth are sharp and spiked like a sharks, this one doesn't have tusks, just these rows of serrated teeth.

Everyone avoids her at first. There's something creepy about her. She doesn't move like a human. She emotes weirdly, being stoic during conversations, but sometimes smiling or laughing at odd times. In class it becomes clear that she lacks knowledge anyone growing up in your society has, but has extensive knowledge on things most humans will never know. She also very clearly supports the dark lord and the demons who serve him, and gets mad when his narrative of conquest and strict genetic hierarchy is challenged in class.

You end up paired with her for a class project. It's weirdly awkward. But you end up spending more time with her then most. It still takes awhile to get used to her mannerisms, and you have to convince her of evolution in a long debate (but eventually you do convince her). She seems strangely naive to a lot of things. Every time she does something that she considers a failure she goes into self loathing, and she gets really afraid she's going to be punished. You have to explain to her things are going to be ok sometimes.

You try to spend time with her. She supports the dark lord but out of a strange sense of fear more than the type of ideological support humans in nations not under his control have. When she does something that she thinks is heresy agaisnt him she becomes afraid. And while she's angry at people who follow gods other than him (which is basically everyone here) she's more afraid of them than everything. When a holy symbol you own touches her she's surprised it doesn't burn her, you have to tell her it's ok.

She has a lot more freedom here than she did back in the wastelands. You slowly help her realize she doesn't have to worry about being punished for sinning agasint the dark lord. She's able to go on the internet for the first time, you help her get everything set up. You also introduce her to your freinds, only some of whom feel safe around her, but those who do seem to like her.

It's weird just hanging out in her dorm. She can be weirdly laid back and introspective at times, at least when she's not nervous or paranoid. But when she's just relaxing she'll tell you about things, about the beauty of the desert sands, about what it was like to observe the rattlesnakes and condors and wyverns of her homeland. How she likes to observe the city, the way the diffrent people flow through it, she was scared of it at first but now she likes to explore it, and the way it lacks stars at night but the lights from the buildings replace it. She says she wishes she could stay here forever, that she wishes she could be an artist but that she was sent here to learn skills useful to the dark lord's empire.

There's something nice about showing her new things. You get to take her to a musical for the first time. Get to show her neighborhoods you like. Get to explain to her what public transport is (though she got scared feeling trapped in a subway car). You get to show her stuff she never got to experience because orcs are never really children, she loves getting to hold a plush for the first time, or watching cartoons for the first time, it's like she's finally getting to live an experience she never had. Even though she's a well armed adult she really likes plushies once she finds out about them, they weren't something she was allowed to have back home.

Over time she starts meeting people and learning things that go against her worldview. As she makes more friends, understands new things, slowly learns that she shouldn't be punished for mistakes, she slowly comes around to seeing how fucked up the world the was raised in is. She tells you she doesn't want to worship the dark lord anymore, she cries just from saying it. You hug her, and realize she's never been hugged before, she seems to really like that feeling. She bathes in the waters of a healing goddess, and she worships something out of love instead of fear for the first time.

Eventually the spawning warlock who spawned her and her siblings comes to visit her. You told her to be careful but she ended up spilling that she doesn't worship the dark lord, she ends up spilling all the things a warlock like that considers a sin. When he leaves she tells you she can't go home. Not ever. Never again will she see the shifting sands, or flying condor, or flowing serpents of her homelands. She's trapped where she is now.

You know it hurts her a lot. She says she feels like she's in a small pocket of safety. Back home she'd be hurt for being an apostate. In human lands outside of the city she'd be hurt for being an orc. But she's safe here. She stays in her apartment for awhile, while you try to make things work. She's finally changing her major to art, and despite everything she's finally free, free to watch the starless sky, free to not be punished when she makes a mistake...

[myromanempiree]

Enchanting; act two

(previously titled: Dreamers with no stars)

thank you for 222+ notes on act one!!

Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: Rhysand sucks, angst, brief description of Eris' legs.

Summary: Will you accept this proposal?

word count: 1.2k

listening to: silver springs by fleetwood mac

“People empty me,

 I have to get away to refill”

-Charles Bukowski 

Recap, or read act one here

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

...

A voice suddenly exclaimed, “Over my wrinkled, dead body!” 

She turned to find Mor, her face flushed and eyes ablaze with anger. Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked towards Eris, her lithe hands crumpled into fists. 

“Morrigan.” Rhysand said,his eyes speaking more words than what came from his mouth. Mor looked up at her High Lord, staring stubbornly at him, before gradually bowing her head and moving away.

Rhysand inhaled and exhaled, steadying himself, before turning to the Archeron sister, seaking her input. She stood there with her eyes averted to the ground, her hand finding the sleeve of her velvet dress. Her mouth opened ever so softly before she closed it, lifting her head to look from Eris to Rhysand, Mor to her sisters. Searching for someone– anyone– to speak on her behalf, to remove her from the room's gaze, to get her out. 

Thankfully, Eris clears his throat, saving her from saying something unacceptable or stupid. “If that is what the lady wants, anyhow,” he adds, with his ever charming smile adorning his features. “I will give you a week to decide.”

… 

The rest of the evening was infinitely more unbearable than the beginning. It was silent, awkwardly so. Not the comforting silence that wraps you in a warm blanket. No attempts at conversation being made, other than Mor encouraging her to stay far from Eris. 

Upon finally returning home, she excused herself quickly. No longer wanting to suffocate in the silence that drowns the family. 

She had quickly paced down the hall, one hand tracing along the lightly patterned cream walls, needing something familiar to keep her steady. Needing the feeling beneath her finger tips to distract from the hurricane of thoughts in her mind.

The other hand balls into a fist, tightening and loosening along with the drum of her heartbeat. She went up the stairs rather quickly, opening her door and going to her room, knocking over the pile of books she'd recently gotten from the library. 

She grabbed the nearest novel and threw it onto her bed, a sound of anguish escaping her throat as she raked a quivering hand through her hair, gripping the strands. She quickly moved to the bedside table, where a decanter was expected to be, yet found it empty. 

A breath slowly left her lips, her hand loosening its grip on the strands of hair, leaving a soothing ache behind. She sat on the bed, running a hand along the tasseled fabric, pulling at one. 

She braced herself for further awkwardness as she dragged herself down the stairs to get more water, slowly moving to peek into the kitchen as she heard shouting. 

“Are you psychotic? She wouldn't last a day in Autumn!” Cassian– presumably– yelled. 

Rhysand countered, “We need her to, Cassian. We can get her out after, but we need this advantage.” 

Amren stepped forward, arms crossed as he sighed. “She's not like any of her sisters, Rhysand. She wouldn't be able to do what we need her to, she's not that type of female..” 

“But with Beron potentially supporting Koschei, we need insider knowledge,” Azriel said slowly, before Mor said, “What the Hel, Azriel! You saw what they did to me!” 

“Trust me, I hate Eris as much as the next, but this could potentially save us,” he told Mor. 

“She couldn't even do it if we sent her.” Feyre said, standing next to Rhysand. 

Her eyes widened as she stood behind the alcove, Eris long forgotten as she heard the distasteful words spoken about her. She slowly stepped forward, then back, her feet dragging along like the lurch of her heart.

As much as she hated the idea of a political marriage, she hated the idea of being dead weight more than anything. Everyone had previously played a role in the safety of her sister's Court. It was high time for her turn. 

Her feet moved quickly past the alcove as she stepped into the kitchen, a set of eyes looking at her. 

“I'll do it.” 

…

Rhysand had quickly gotten in contact with Beron and informed him of her acceptance, before Mor could talk her out of it. Much to most of the Inner Circles displeasure.

She was told not to pack any articles of clothing, and that all would be provided, including the wedding gown. The mere thought had her face immediately scrunching in disgust. 

Feyre had tried to coax her to cancel the engagement as she was putting her things in boxes. Though that hadn't worked, seeing as she now found herself in a new room.

Crisp Autumn air coming in through the cracked window as she put her things away, some maids had offered to help, yet ahe refused. There was a certain way she had wanted it done, and ordering people around felt odd to her. 

So she found herself straightening a series of clay sea creatures Feyre had made her, smiling softly as she moved the sea lion into its place. Gently patting its head with her finger tip, before turning to hang up a map. 

“You are aware that this shall only be your room until the wedding, yes?” A smooth voice said, causing her to almost drop from the odd position of on the chair and on her writing desk that she was in– which, admittedly, wasn't a good idea regardless.

She stepped down to find Eris, an eyebrow raised as he leaned against the door frame. A confident and easy grin on his face, eyes darting to look up at her. “I… when is the wedding? I was never informed.” She said, tilting her head. 

“Three weeks, Beron and Rhysand both want this to be quick.” 

“So you can't back out”, are the words implied. She nods, fidgeting with her fingers, pulling on the appendages to hear a satisfying pop. She awkwardly looks at his feet, the calf-high riding boots that grip his muscled yet lean legs. 

She was never one for idle chatter, small talk was dumb to her. What was the point of it if it was something simple? However, she had no clue what to say to the statuesque man in front of her, so she asked; “Do you have a horse?” 

His eyes flickered with confusion, an eyebrow raised. “Pardon?” he questioned, tilting his head at her in a way that strangely reminded her of a dog. “Riding riding boots, I think those are what you're wearing. Do you have a horse?”

“Ah, yes. Maybe one-day I'll take you on a ride. After our marriage, of course.” Genesis nodded, thanking him and watching as he left. Burying her face into her hands after realizing the innuendo of his words, she now knew that ‘Thank you’ was not a proper way to address his words. 

This further reminds her of their future marital duties, and in three weeks time, she would be in bed with Eris Vanserra

Three weeks couldn't come slow enough.

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