#it shot up to one of my favourite books I read this past year

[cakeinthevoid]

TOMATO and CARROT for the ask game

From this neat ask game :))

Just like the last one, I'm choosing one OC to answer all the asks for. Feel free to submit the same fruit/veggie twice to hear answers for other OCs!

This is for Auretta/Zephyr from Vigilante (because both these asks fit her SO WELL—)

🍅 [TOMATO] How misunderstood is your OC? In-universe or IRL.

So... What you need to understand about present day Auretta is that she escaped a place where they kept Extra-Ordinaries (people who get superpowers after surviving a near death experience) away from the public under the guise of safety for them and others but really... it's to find out how they work—or to get them to work for the organisation. Unfortunately, most people don't know this. In the public eye, Zephyr is a villain who must be stopped from wreaking havoc on cities and forests. She is a walking windstorm.

After her... snap... Auretta just became more... unhinged, to put it lightly. She's very much at war with herself. She misunderstands herself tbh. Part of her wants to be alone—alone forever so her brother never sees what she has become. Another part desperately wants to see her brother again. She still feels like a little girl who could cuddle with her brother and watch a movie with hot cocoa. Another part wants bloody revenge on the people who dared to ruin her life. If the guy who was her catalyst event wasn't watching the news when she broke out and promptly went into hiding... he would be toast. Toast flying away in the wind.

TLDR: She maintains the I AM WICKED AND EVIL AND YOU CANT STOP ME persona well enough that no one cares to stick around long enough to hear her whisper I want my life back. I want my brother back....

🥕 [CARROT] How tough is your OC against certain situations? How weak are they against others?

Auretta post EON kicks ASS!!!! She doesn't hold back on her powers anymore. She will wreck everything to get what she needs. In a physical fight with her powers, she is one of the strongest. There were do-gooder types who initially wanted her on a team, thinking she needed some good purpose. She blew them all away lmao. Having survived essentially torture, she's jaded and cynical and lives by "me first".

However....she would still do anything for her brother, even if she thinks he hates her. That was used against her very effectively. She will always be weak when it comes to her brother. Unless Zephyr finally manages to convince herself that she (quite literally) pushes people away whether she wants to or not and that she doesn't need ANYONE (which will likely never happen because Zephyr is still part Auretta), she will always be weak against someone threatening her brother or Cass.

TLDR: Auretta is really good at pushing the limits of her powers and fights smart when she isn't being goaded. Problem: she is very easily baited. Especially when it comes to her brother.

[dalishious]

A BioWare Guide on How to Murder a Fanbase

I have been a Dragon Age super-fan for almost fourteen years, now. I have played every game, with every DLC. I have read every novel, lore book, and every comic — yes, even the terrible ones that are better off forgotten. I have seen the anime film, the animated series, and the web mini-series. I have enjoyed all of these pieces of the franchise over and over, more times than I can count. So, make no mistake: the negativity you’re about to hear comes from a place of love for this fantasy world, developed by many creative people over the years. I would love nothing more than to see the resurrection of passion in the Dragon Age fandom again. But the unfortunate truth is, that resurrection is only needed because BioWare took the fandom out back and shot it in the first place.

In December 2018, three years after the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition’s Trespasser epilogue DLC, BioWare first announced the then-untitled next Dragon Age game with a teaser trailer. At this point, most fans were anticipating this would mean within the next couple years, we would see the game. This assumption was based on the fact that Dragon Age: Inquisition was first announced in 2012, and released in 2014, with an extra year of development added last minute.

There have been dribbles of extra content since then, adding to the franchise. This was enough to keep some fans still breathing and interested. 2020’s Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights was a lovely anthology. 2020’s Dragon Age: Blue Wraith and 2021’s Dark Fortress were wonderful comics tying up the story started in Knight Errant. And 2022’s Dragon Age: Absolution was a well-animated series with an interesting cast of characters and story. But all these still left the fandom with a major question: What was going on with the next game? It was untypical of BioWare to be so secretive, in comparison to how they handled sharing information of the past games in the franchise. The only form of updates fans still have to go on is mostly just concept art and short stories, hinting that something must be in production. But why was the wait so long?

In 2015, the first version of the next Dragon Age began with a clear vision, clear scope of practice, and a reportedly happy developer team. Most gloriously in my book, there was no multi-player… but this did not align with the Electronic Arts typical money-mad schemes. EA’s push for “games as a service” meant they wanted to monetize all their games as much as possible, and therefore, they wanted them to be a live service — as Anthem demonstrated, that meant sacrificing things that are staples of good RPGs, like narrative and character choice. So in 2017, version one of the next Dragon Age was scrapped and replaced. This new version would have, in total or to at least some degree, an online portion of play.

There is one part of Schreier’s article, “The Past and Present of Dragon Age 4,” that really sticks out to me, regarding this:

“One person close to the game told me this week that Morrison’s critical path, or main story, would be designed for single-player and that goal of the multiplayer elements would be to keep people engaged so that they would actually stick with post-launch content.”

The idea of splitting up components of a game into single-player and multi-player is a terrible idea, because it means that there would be a large bulk of content only accessible through online gaming; something many fans, like myself, are repulsed by. Even if I did enjoy it, I spent most of my life growing up with either no internet or shoddy internet incapable of playing online games. I know many rural people who are still in that position, losing more and more of their favourite gaming pastimes because they are locked out of the ability to play them. It is a disservice to hide content behind a wall like this, especially in a world that is so lore-heavy like Dragon Age. The news of multi-player in Dragon Age understandably upset many, and this is when I first noticed a large drop off in excitement over the next game.

However, in 2021, the failure of Anthem (multi-player) and success of Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order (single-player) led the executives at EA to bend to the wishes of BioWare leadership and allow them to go back to the drawing board yet again on the next Dragon Age. This meant removing all multi-player content!

While I am very happy that there will reportedly be no multi-player in Dragon Age: Dreadwolf, I can’t help but feel bitter and a little disgusted over the ridiculous development time spent on something no one but EA wanted in the first place. If it weren’t for this foolishness, Dragon Age: Dreadwolf would be in our hands right now. Instead, it’s been in development hell for nearly nine years and counting. Nine years is a long time to expect fans to carry a torch for you through radio silence, but it’s no wonder BioWare has shared barely anything about the next game; it’s been in flux for so long, they likely haven’t had anything concrete to show.

BioWare hurt its reputation even more when the news broke that the studio very suddenly laid off 50 people who were working on Dragon Age: Dreadwolf. This is pretty damning on its own, but BioWare took it a step further. Former developer Jon Renish shared a statement revealing that the studio was only willing to offer laid-off employees two weeks of severance per year of service, and denied health benefits. The denial of health benefits in particular is a pretty wild move for a studio with a reputation for “stress casualties”. The latest news on this is that BioWare has still so far refused to negotiate better severance packages, leading to a lawsuit. The lawsuit originally had 15 former employees, but this dropped due to the fear of not being able to afford to pay their bills. So now, while EA sits on $400 million net income, the laid-off employees are struggling to buy holiday presents for their children. These horrid business practices are not to be ignored when accounting for a lack of faith in a studio. What kind of monsters reward workers who make your games special with vaguely reasoned lay-offs?

The latest news on the Dragon Age: Dreadwolf front from BioWare came early this month, December 2023, with a trailer… announcing a trailer that will come next summer… that will announce the release of the game. Supposedly. Maybe. We’ll see. But by this time, BioWare is something of a laughing stock of their own fandom. Reactions to the video released with a pretty map graphic and a few rendered locations were, from what I personally observed, mostly sardonic in nature. People have commented on the vapourware nature of the game, and like all vapourware, that leads to disintegrating trust.

Despite all this, people like Mary Kirby, (one of the veteran Dragon Age writers who was a victim of the layoffs,) said, “it’s bittersweet that Dreadwolf is my last DA game, but I still hope you all love it as much as I do,” encouraging fans to still support the game when it eventually is released. But after every misstep BioWare has taken, that’s a tough sell now. Fans are finicky, RPG fans more so than others, one could argue. We have our favourites, and many of us stick to those favourites for life over our appreciation for the artistry — but that relationship between studio and fan should go both ways. EA and BioWare has betrayed that relationship, and it will take a hell of a lot to build it back up again, now.

[This piece is also available on Medium!]

[lvnleah]

Double The Love || Leah Williamson x Lia Wälti

Based on this request! :)

Summary: Leah’s daughter, Sage, starts to call Lia Mummy one night after spending a lot of time with her over the past few months due to Lia moving in because of Leah’s ACL. Leah and Lia are secretly dating and Sage figures it out over time.

Notes: this is my first one-shot so please be kind! <33

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“Sage! Bed time, c’mon let’s get your pjs on!” Leah called out from the living room, slowly walking into the kitchen.

Leah’s heart swelled with love as she slowly walked into the kitchen. Her two-year-old daughter, Sage, was sitting on the kitchen side, giggling away, as her girlfriend, Lia, stood in front of her. Lia tickled the two-year-old repeatedly, getting more and more giggles out of her.

Lia had been a constant presence in their home ever since Leah tore her ACL during a game a few months ago. The injury had left Leah hobbling around on crutches, and Lia had stepped in to help. She moved in with Leah and Sage and took on a motherly role. From cooking meals to reading bedtime stories, and even teaching Sage how to speak a little bit of Swiss, Lia had become a major part in Leah and Sage’s life.

As time progressed and Lia and Leah spent more time together, the pair caught feelings for each other. They decided to keep things from Sage, not wanting the toddler to get hurt if things didn’t work out.

Sage didn't understand why her mumma, Leah, sometimes winced when she moved or why she needed those crutches. But Lia was always there for her Mumma, she could tell that Lia was helping her Mumma. Sage became curious about her Mumma’s injury and Lia helped answer any questions that Sage had.

Sage’s laugh became contagious and Leah couldn’t help but laugh along with Lia and her daughter.

“Right, bubba! It’s bedtime,” Leah announced as she joined Lia and Sage. “Say goodnight to Lia and Mumma will put you in your pjs!”

Sage lent forward and wrapped her arms around Lia, holding on so her Mumma couldn’t take her as she rested her head on Lia’s chest.

Lia smiled, “I don’t mind helping put her to bed.” She offered, “We’re besties aren’t we, sweet girl?”

Sage gave Leah her cute little pout that she knew her Mumma couldn’t say no to.

Leah walked into Sage’s bedroom, Lia closely following behind with the sleepy toddler attached to her hip. Despite being tired, Sage demanded to be placed down on the floor so she could pick out her pyjamas and a book for her Mumma to read. Leah watched from behind as Lia helped Sage pick out a bedtime story, her heart swelling even more with love.

“You sure you want this one, sweetie?” Lia asked as Sage handed her the book, the same book that’s been read every night for the past week.

Sage nodded, her blonde pigtails moving in unison, “Yep! Me love this book.” Sage smiled, climbing onto her toddler bed. “Mr Flopsy?” She frowned, looking around her bed for her favourite teddy.

“Mr Flopsy’s here, bubba.” Leah said, getting the stuffed rabbit from the shelf.

The three sandwiched themselves into Sage’s toddler bed, Lia sat closest to the wall whilst Lwah rested on the edge with Sage sandwiched between them. Lia and Leah took it in turns, each reading a page of the book to Sage.

As they finished the final page, Sage’s eyes began to close slowly. Lia slipped out of the bed before helping Leah up from it. Leah kissed Sage’s forehead, whispering sweet words to her daughter before letting Lia say goodnight.

“Goodnight sweet girl, sweet dreams.” She whispered, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on Sage’s forehead.

"Goodnight, Mummy," Sage sleepily whispered, her voice soft and gentle as she wandered off into a deep sleep.

Lia's heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Leah, who was standing behind her, her eyes crinkling with affection. Leah didn’t bother to correct Sage. Instead, she'd smile and let the moment linger, savouring the sweetness of the moment.

Sage’s innocent confusion tugged at Lia's heart. She knew that she and Sage shared a bond that went beyond biology. A bond forged through scraped knees, bedtime stories, and whispered dreams.

Leah took Lia’s hand into her own as the pair of them tiptoed out of Sage’s bedroom. The hallway was dimly lit, the smell of Sage’s lotion lingering in the air. They made their way into the living room, Leah pulling Lia down with her as the pair of them sat down on the couch. A comfortable silence fell over them before Leah broke it.

“I-I, umm, I’m sorry if Sage calling you Mommy made you feel uneasy.” Leah apologised, kissing the brunette's head.

Lia sat up and shook her head, “It didn’t, it felt…right.”

“Do you think it's time to tell Sage?” Leah carefully asked, making sure not to overstep.

“Do you?” Lia questioned.

Leah nodded, “I do, I really do. I don't think anything would change, if anything she’d probably love it. I think she’s already caught on that you’re more than just her Mumma’s friend. I’m just worried that Sage might get hurt if things go wrong.”

Lia laughed, she knew Sage was an intelligent two year old and Leah’s guesses were probably correct. “Leah, I’m never going anywhere. I promise you that I’m here forever, I’m not leaving.”

Leah smiled, placing a soft kiss on Lia’s lips, “Could we just see how things go? Maybe we could just start showing more affection in front of Sage and see how she reacts. If she asks questions then we can just be open with her.”

Lia nodded in agreement, “Of course we can, we’re doing things at your pace okay?”

As the days turned into weeks, Sage began to call Lia ‘Mummy’ more often. She'd say things like, "Mummy, can you read me a story?" or "Mommy, can you help me build a fort?" And Lia would nod, her eyes shining with love.

Leah returned to training, Sage attending training with her. The couple arrived to training together everyday, their teammates knew they were together but were still shocked when they heard Sage refer to Lia as ‘Mommy.’

One evening, after dinner, Sage crawled into bed, her eyelids drooping. Lia sat on the edge, brushing her fingers through Sage’s hair as Leah cuddled up beside them. "Mommy," Sage murmured, her voice barely audible.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Lia whispered back.

Sage eyes fluttered open. "You love Mumma?"

Lia's heart swelled. She leaned down and kissed Sage’s forehead. "I do, sweetheart. I love her a lot.”

“You dating Mumma, like Auntie Beffy is dating Vivi?” Sage questioned.

Sage knew what a relationship was and was aware that many of her Auntie’s were in one, the one she adored the most was her Auntie Beffy’s.

Lia looked down at Leah, letting her take the lead on the question. Leah tickled Sage’s stomach before speaking.

“Yes, we are. I love Lia and Lia loves Mumma a lot, we’re a little family, is that okay?” Leah asked. “It mean means you get double the love!”

Sage nodded, “I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart!” Lia smiled, kissing Sage’s forehead again.

And in that quiet room, with Leah cuddled beside them, they were a family. A family that came unexpectedly but something they all needed.

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leahwilliamsonn evenings well spent with loved ones ❤️

tagged: liawaelti

comments off

[yaoyaobae]

Hello everyone! Thank you so much for following me, its my first time sharing about my twst ocs so I’ll give it a shot ✊

Warning: Hallucinations 🙇‍♀️

Alison Wondre

School: Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Cookies

Pastime: Reading children’s books, Daydreaming

Family: Mother, Father, Older sister

Role: Head of Alice/Wonderland dorm

Alison is a second year student at RSA and dorm head. Unlike Riddle who upholds rules, Alison is the polar opposite of him in every way.

Alison adopts a carefree and playful attitude, he enjoys teasing uptight people until they blow (like Riddle).

He tends to mention strange things like how he saw some singing flowers the other day or his craving to take a bite out of a bread-and-butter-fly. From the way he dresses to his wild, childish imagination its no surprise that many students believe he’s gone mad. But it is agreeably fitting for someone who is head of the Alice/Wonderland dorm.

Backstory:

Alison has an older sister whom he adores greatly and spends most of his time with. When he was a young boy, he didn’t listen to his sister’s heeding to not stray off from the path and ended up falling into a deep hole in a forest. He slowly started hallucinating monsters and cried himself to sleep, wishing he had listened to his sister. Thankfully, the authorities found him a few days later and he was sent to a hospital.

However, it was clear that Alison became an entirely different person after the incident. He began telling his sister stories about funny creatures he had met during his “adventure” which was rather worrying to her. While Alison was in the hospital for a few months,he picked up several children’s picture books which he still brings around with him in school till this day. As he grew older his imagination became wilder as he forgets the fine line between reality and his “wonderland”. He takes afternoon naps to “meet his friends”. Its a given rule to never wake him up.

Of course despite his eccentric character, Alison is still a caring and reliable leader when he needs to be(just that he conveys it in his own ways). He will not hesitate to listen to a fellow dorm mate’s worries and give vague advice, hoping they can figure out the riddle. He encourages them to “stay curiouser and curiouser” as life becomes a little more colourful that way when you experience new things. When it comes to thinking out of the box, no one can beat Alison to it.

Relationships

Riddle

Alison finds joy in teasing serious individuals, namely Riddle, until they throw a tantrum. He doesn’t mind getting the magic collar so as long as he can poke fun at the red haired queen. In serious situation, Alison would cooperate with Riddle and provide creative solutions.

If both of them share a similarity, it would be the fear of being held back and stuck in a dark place alone. Like Riddle who grew up having to follow his mother’s rules and forbidden to see his friends, Alison can somewhat share the same pain as he is still afraid of not waking up and/or seeing his sister again because of his ignorance in the past.

Chenya

Alison is generally carefree around others, but when it comes to this cunning cheshire cat he will not waste a single second to curse him. Many students find it strange how two eccentrics from the same dorm can never get along. Alison finds Chenya a nuisance who disrupts his afternoon naps, often pestering him. In addition, Chenya always gives Alison close-to-useless advice even when the latter didn’t ask for any. Guess its like a taste of his own medicine 😂

While the two do not get along, they are always seen together in school bickering nonsense. Sometimes Chenya would purposely wake Alison up from his nap to share about the strawberry tart he stole from his two childhood friends, the sleepy blonde would just doze off back to dreamland while nodding his head.

End

Well, I think that is all I can share about Alison! I hope you will like him too, thank you to those who have loved him since the beginning!! Talking about my children is fun ☺️

Until next time!

[mountttmase]

You Know I’ll Always Be Here

Note - just a cute little fic cause I love my man 🥺 nothing United related just in case you need a break but thank you to the anon who requested it. I really hope you like it and I’d love some feedback 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 2.4K

Warnings - fluff

Your heart sunk as the final whistle blew, England had lost and were not advancing to the finals. This was supposed to be their year and now it was all over.

Your eyes were trained on Mason as he made his way around the pitch to hug everyone, putting a a brave face and making sure the rest of his team were okay before he fell to his knees, chest against the grass and he buried his head in his arms.

Your heart broke for him, having never seen him look so defeated before. Usually he was good at keeping his emotions in check until the pair of you were alone but he obviously couldn’t do it today and all you wanted to was run to him and comfort the boy you loved in anyway you could.

Mason also says felt like he’d never done enough after games like today, but right now you didn’t think he could of given anymore. After a goal and an assist in extra time it still wasn’t enough to send the three lions through and everything he’d worked for was now in tattered pieces around him.

‘Y/n, you coming?’ Lauren asked holding her hand out to you and you took it quickly, following behind her and baby Jude down the stairs towards the pitch.

‘Wait, where are we going?’ You asked as you followed her down to the sidelines but you could see what was happening before she spoke, watching the as the players family members filtered onto the pitch to pull their loved ones into a comforting embrace to try and soothe their pain.

Your eyes caught Debbie’s as you made it to the bottom of the stairs and you made your way over to her and Tony, pulling them both into a hug and you could sense their disappointment from their faces. Normally you would sit with them but Lauren had asked if you could sit with her today to help look after baby Jude and you couldn’t pass up the opportunity of spending time with your favourite little boy.

‘Shall we go over then?’ You asked them both and you felt Tony place his hand on your shoulder whilst giving you a knowing look.

‘You go, love. I don’t think he’ll want to be crowded and he probably just wants you right now. We can speak to him after’ he reassured you as Debbie squeezed your hand.

‘Give him a kiss from us’ she laughed and you gave them both a quick hug, thanking them for trusting you with their little boy’s happiness like they seemed to be doing. You knew it must of been hard for them but they also knew what was best for their son and what he probably wanted right now, your heart hammering at the thought of being Masons trusted person.

‘Are you sure?’ You breathed but they reassured you it was fine, and you trusted that they knew what Mason needed more than he did so with one last hug you made your way back to Lauren so you could find your boys together.

Just as you’d predicted, Mason and Dec were close to each other. Dec patting Mason on the back as he lay on the floor still and your heart broke as you saw him still down and so defeated. Sure games hadn’t gone his way in the past and you’d comforted him when he was upset but this seemed different and you had to pull yourself together before making your way over to be whatever he needed.

‘I’ll go get Dec’ you told Lauren, making your way over to the pair of them and Decs head shot up as he felt your presence. You could tell he was sad as he stood up, having known him for a while you could read him like a book just like Mason as they shared so many of the same mannerisms and you pulled him into a quick hug as you patted him on the back.

‘I’m so sorry, Dec. You played really well’ you told him and he looked down at you with an appreciative smile, eyes a little glossy and he finally started to let his walls down.

‘Thanks, y/n’ he laughed, ruffling your hair slightly before nodding over to your crestfallen boyfriend. ‘I’ve tried talking to him but he’s not moving’

‘It’s fine, I’ll sort him out. Thanks for looking out for him Dec’ you smiled as you looked down it him, Lauren coming over to join the pair of you as he wrapped his arm around her a stroked Jude’s head softly.

‘Come on Dec, your parents are waiting’ she told him softly and after a final group hug, you looked down to Mason who was still in the same place. You had no idea what to do, his head still buried in his arms as he laid completely still but the uneven rise and fall of his chest made your heart hurt even more than it was as you figured he must be crying a little bit. In the end you could only come to one conclusion and got down on the floor next to him, laying so your head was near his so you could eventually talk to him and run your fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for him to peak up at you and your heart broke at the sight of his red glassy eyes.

‘What are you doing?’ He asked and you sent him a small smile to let him know everything was okay.

‘I could ask you the same thing, Mase’

‘You’re gonna get wet’ he told you, moving his arm slightly so he could see you better and your heart thudded as you took him in. The bridge of his nose was red from running about and he looked absolutely shattered. All you wanted was to bundle him up and protect him but it was a bit difficult right now. But the sadness radiating from him hit you like a train and you were ready to be whatever he needed.

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind’ you smiled, hoping to let him know everything was okay and you watched as he let down what little walls he had left up. His bottom lip wobbling ever so slightly as the first few tears escaped his eyes but he made no attempts to wipe them.

‘I don’t think I can get up’ he croaked and you felt sick at how upset he was. You knew if this game came to a loss then it would hurt but you could of never of prepared yourself for this.

‘It’s fine. You don’t have to, I can wait with you’ you told him softly, scratching over his head in the way you knew he loved and he shut his eyes as his whole body relaxed at your touch.

‘I really thought we could do it’ you heard him say softly as his eyes landed on yours. ‘I really thought this was our year’

‘I know, baby. You did so well and I know you don’t wanna hear it but I really am so proud of you’

‘I know’ he sighed, offering you a gentle smile and your whole chest warmed at the sight of him perking up a bit because of you. ‘Thank you, love’

‘Anytime. You know I’ll always be here’ you told him as he shut his eyes so he could focus on the feeling of your fingers. You were both quiet for a little while, Mason focusing on the feel of you fingers in his hair whilst the noise of everything around you died down.

‘Are there’s still lots of people about?’ He asked suddenly and you had a quick look up to see the place emptying out.

‘Most of the crowd has gone’ you told him, ‘just a few of your team are hanging about and some of the press. Don’t rush yourself though. We can go in when you’re ready, yeah?’

‘I love you’ he whispered, shuffling closer to you so he could kiss you gently. His hand coming around your waist so he could squeeze it as you cupped his jaw, running your thumb over his cheek gently. ‘Thank you for not telling me off and laying here with me’

‘Why would I tell you off’ you laughed before he kissed you once again.

‘Cause I’m acting like a big baby’

‘No you’re not. You’re upset Mase, and if this is how you wanna cope with it then I’ll always be by your side. Whether that be standing, sitting or laying down on wet grass. I’m here for you’

‘I love you so much’ he laughed kissing you again gently as he pulled you even further to him.

‘I love you too’ you smiled and you watched him take a big breath before shuffling back.

‘I’m ready to get up now I think’

‘Yeah? You sure?’

‘I’m sure’ he smiled, and you untangled yourself from each other before he helped you up, kissing your cheek just before you kissed his temple. ‘You always kiss me there’ he laughed as he linked your fingers together, walking the width of the pitch and over to the sidelines.

‘I know’ you laughed ‘you have a little mole there and it’s my favourite so I like to kiss it’ you told him, a slight embarrassed tone to your voice as you felt your face heat up at the confession. You’d never mentioned it before but you thought you give him a little something to smile about and by the look on his face it was definitely working.

‘Oh yeah? Do you know I have a favourite one of yours?’ He asked and you shook your head as you peered up at him. ‘Well I do. It’s on your upper left thigh, like just under your bum’ he laughed as you pushed your shoulder into him out of embarrassment.

‘Why?’ You laughed, hiding your face as he brought his arm around your shoulder.

‘Cause only I can see it’ he whispered into you ear ‘maybe later I can kiss it for you, yeah?’ He laughed and you rolled you eyes at him just before you reached his parents who pulled the pair of you into a hug.

Mason was quiet for the rest of the evening until you got home and he kept his promise of kissing his favourite mole of yours amongst other things. You thought he might not of been in the mood for anything once you got back but it seemed as if he just wanted it be in the comfort of your arms and after weeks apart he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. You didn’t mind and were willing to do just about anything to take his mind off of everything that happened and make him feel better.

The next morning you woke up with your head in Masons lap, his fingers raking over your scalp as he sat up against the headboard. You hummed at the feeling as you nestled down further into his thighs and you felt him shake as he laughed.

‘Hey’ you yawned, rolling onto your back so you could could look at him. His hand now holding you at your jaw as he stroked your cheek, a loving smile dressed his face as he peered down at you. ‘What you looking at’ you asked him quietly, noticing how his eyes kept looking over to his phone in his free hand, a warm smile taking over his face as he looked down at you.

‘There’s quite a few articles about me this morning, I’m just having a read’ he told you and you sighed in disappointment at him.

‘Oh Mase, I told you not to look at any of that stuff’ you scolded him, sitting up next to him so you could steal his phone from him but he didn’t let you.

‘Well why don’t you take a look before you start having a go at me’ he smiled, shoving the phone in your face so you could see what he had and you felt your face burn at the sight of the headlines you were faced with.

Back of the net: Mount scoring on and off the pitch

Princess of the pitch: Mounts girl steals everyone’s hearts as she comforts the distraught midfielder.

Sometimes even love lies down: Even mount couldn’t hide his emotions today after a cracking performance.

‘What’s all this’ you laughed, clicking on one so you could skim read it.

‘Well I think the media have fallen in love with you a little bit. They’re all saying how much of a lucky boy I am to have you. Not that I needed to be told, I already knew that’

‘There’s so many’ you laughed, reading down the list and looking at pictures of the pair of you face down on the pitch as you comforted him.

‘I love you’ you felt him whisper into your hair and you turned to face him with a shy smile. ‘I really do. I felt like shit when that whistle went yesterday and no matter who came over to me I just didn’t want anything to do with it until you were there. I’d probably still be laying there if it wasn’t for you’ he laughed before kissing your nose softly.

‘And I’d be laying right next to you’ you laughed before pulling him in for a proper kiss. ‘I’d do anything for you’

‘Me too’ he smiled, grabbing your thigh and pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. ‘Tell me what you want right now’ he spoke, lips trailing your jaw as his hands roamed over your bum. You clearly knew what he wanted but you loved to tease him in moments like this so set out to make him suffer.

‘Avocado toast’ you whispered and you felt him laugh as he pulled you closer to hug him.

‘Fine, I’ll go make you toast. But I’m having what I want to eat after’ he told you in a low voice, nipping your neck as you rocked your hips over him once. ‘You coming with?’ He asked before standing the pair of you up.

‘Looks like I don’t have a choice’ you laughed, following along as he pulled you with him out of the room.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought as it really helps motivate me to want to write more 🩷

[andsoigotabutterfly]

Liberation

gf!tara x gf!fem!reader

a.n.: this is my first ever fic, so please make sure to share your thoughts about it...

warnings: blood, mentions of past trauma, slight schizophrenia, murder, mentions of hot scenes, harsh language

English isn't my first language, but I did my best!

word count: 5.1k

Some people say it’s a miracle you are alive. Some say you are cursed, and a threat to the community. Some say that some unworldly power helped you get through your life until now. You agreed with the last one. Nobody in the world knew how you survived your childhood. Except for you.

When you were three years old, you were involved in a car crash, in which both of you parents were inpaled on a tree and died. After that, at the age of five, your godfather, was shot down by the police, because they thought he is going to shoot them first. Of course, you were in the back seat when this happened, and you only survived, because you ducked away from behind your new guard. The orphanage you’ve been put in, burnt down around you, when you were eight.

The „Voice”, you called it. The second part of you, which nobody knew of. The part of you, that you hid from everything and everyone. It was the saviour of you. It was the one, who told you to put your back against you fathers’ seat, before the car crashed, so you would survive the tree that pierced through the front window. It was the one, who told you to duck, just before the gun was fired. It was the one, who told you to hug the ground and crawl to the back door of the building, so you wouldn’t suffocate from the smoke, and so you wouldn’t be trapped inside the building, once the support beam that held the ceiling crashed down. It forced you out of situations, without letting you warn others of the danger. It felt like there was a psychopath on you, who was ready for mayhem and destruction.

And it was the one, who tried to influence all your actions. It spoke to you; it tempted you and it bothered you. Only when in danger, did you listen to it. It was full of envy and hatred. It didn’t want you to make friends or go to activities. It tried to manipulate you and cut you away from those, who you loved and or cared about you. Whenever you tried to talk to it, it was like it didn’t hear you, or just didn’t bother to answer neither your questions nor your accusations.

Other then it being a pain in the ass when it came to the public, it was actually very tolerable when you were home at your aunt’s place. It stayed silent, mostly ever talking when you were trying to choose a movie or a book to read. You’ve had similar tastes and quickly found that the favourite movie series for you both, were the Stab movies. The only place where you could speak to it was in front of the mirror. You’ve rarely done it because it felt weird to speak to your reflection, that didn’t even mimic you. Anyone who would come in would see nothing, except for you talking to your own reflection. After you’ve made this discovery, it was there EVERYWHERE. Any time you would go to the toilet, there it was looking back at you from the mirror with a horrific grin on your mouth. Every time you looked onto the water’s surface it was there, mocking you. You were terrified of it and thus, yourself.

Then, at the end of primary school, when you went home, you’ve had enough. From it. It has teased you with murder before, but now it was meaning it.

“Kill the bitch! Run your knife through her and see what her insides look like! I guess that would be a sight worth seeing!”

You ignored its words. You knew it wouldn’t hear you until you were face to face with it. You barged in the bathroom and unleashed your fury at it on the dirty mirror.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“If she won’t be ours, she won’t be anybody’s!” it lashed out.

“You want to kill her because she said no to me?!” you asked in disbelief, shame running through you as you remembered back at what happened.

“Of course! Turn the canal’s water red with her blood!”

“I don’t want to hurt her! I won’t hurt anyone!”

“It would be so liberating!” your reflection was feral. The grin on your mouth was mixed with the terrifying sight of absolute madness in your eyes. You needed to convince yourself, that you weren’t seeing your own face. You were feeling the effect it had on you. You were losing control of yourself.

“Get out of my head!”

“I won’t go anywhere! I will help you slice that bitch up and then get on with everybody else, who has hurt you. Think of the kids that bullied you in the orphanage. Now picture their bodies…”

“SHUT UP!” you were yelling at this point. You didn’t care if the neighbours heard you. You wanted it out. It was getting to you. The images that it said, were flashing through your mind, and to say they weren’t nice would’ve been a lie. You gripped the corner of the sink so hard, your fingers hurt and turned white.

“It would fill the hole in your soul. Let go! It would make you whole!”

Your vision went black. You couldn’t see anything but it, with a huge grin on your own mouth. You couldn’t think straight. You wouldn’t give up either though. In a last, desperate attempt, you crashed the mirror with your bare hands as you screamed your lungs out. It hurt like hell. Blood was dripping down your hand. But at that moment, you felt victorious and at peace. When you looked at your reflection through the cracks, you saw yourself. A laugh escaped your lips, as you smiled at yourself. You touched your face, like it’s the first time you saw it. The blood you left on it was now running down your cheeks, but you didn’t mind. It was nowhere to be found. You finally got rid of it.

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High school was calm and peaceful. From the moment you set foot in there, you were famous. Almost everybody knew your name, knew what shit you've been through. Most of the people left you alone, or tried to keep distance for the first half semester, like you were rotten meat. Except for a small group of people, whom you quickly became friends with.

After the school got used to your presence, the bullies started to present themselves. Not afraid of you anymore, they started picking on you, for even the smallest detail. To say that they made your time there miserable would be an understatement. You still finished your first year on a good note. Your aunt and you have become close and you finally had some friends with whom you would meet with during the summer.

The next year started off, as the last closed. At the first day the others already left because they got less hours than you. This was when the bullies showed up. Your impulsiveness led you to a fight with them. Two of their group ended up in the infirmary with bruises and stiches, and you in the principal's office, with a warning. When your aunt picked you up, she was angry but the moment you were in the car, her face lightened up and asked you all about the fight. At first you were confused, but then started to talk about what happened with more and more enthusiasm. She listened to every last detail you told her, with pride on her face.

"Next time, maybe don't hold back." She said with a wide grin.

"There won't be a next time, for a long time if I assume right." You answered.

At night, you all gathered at Tara's place. When they saw your black eye, and the stich on your cheek, their jaws dropped. Then, you were hit with a wave of questions on your well being, the state of the "other guy" and whom the fight happened with. You told the story all over again, with a bit more detail than you actually remembered. As you were talking Chad encouragingly patted your shoulders, and commented on your technique, like he was some kind of professional. Tara's face lit up when you got to the part where you got your scars. You didn't take it as something important until after the party, in your bed thinking about her. Realization hit you, that you like her. The way she moved around, the way she made everyone laugh and that she always was nice. Oh, you liked her very much.

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That night, in your dream, it came back. You were standing in front of each other. It spoke to you, but you didn't listen. Even if you tried to take in what it was saying, you couldn't understand it. Then it took out Ghostfaces' mask from behind it's back, and placed it on its head. As it approached you, you froze down. Couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't talk. When it reached you, it tilted its head, and you woke up. You tried to calm down, as your thoughts were racing. It was back. Was it back? 'Please. Somebody save me' you thought.

The next weeks were normal. You haven't heard its voice, or felt its influence. As the days were passing, you shook it of like it was a nightmare, even though you were most certain, that it wasn't one.

Just as you thought, the bullies didn't come back for a long time. During the 'Time of Peace', as you called it you managed to get to know your friends more, especially Tara. It was like having a new family. You guys would always go to one's house to hold small get-togethers and parties. Everybody was nice and smooth, but your eyes were always set on her.

You two got together really well. You both liked horror movies, and would go on to watch them all together. Like yours, her favourite movie series was Stab too. One time around the end of the year, you managed to prank call her, and she quickly got into the game. You left your voice changer at home, so you tried your best at hiding your own voice, failing miserably. You sneaked in through the back door and got into her house. As she was heading into the kitchen, you jumped her. She did definitely not expect you to be in her house.

She gripped you tightly as she calmed down quickly. Her touch made you have goosebumps. You never saw her scared, and were proud of yourself. She looked cute.

"Fuck!" she breathed out finally. "Y/N!"

"At your service."

"What are you doing here?!"

"Well, the plan was to sneak in, scare your gorgeous ass. Then maybe, just maybe, watch something together" you admitted. "First half worked out pretty well if I dare say so myself."

"Okay than Mrs. jumpscare. Take your shoes off. I just finished cleaning. After that, we may discuss having movie night." She looked at you through her smile. After a second, she watched you curiously and raised an elbow. That’s when it hit you how close you were. She was still in your arms so you quickly let go and did as you were told. You were trying your best to hide your blush but the way she looked at you made it pretty clear, that it didn't work.

You settled down on her couch, patiently waiting for her to make the popcorn. When she got to the living room, you slowly pulled out an ancient dvd holder of your bag. You shot her a grin as you saw her mouth drop.

"No fuckin' way where did you get this?!" she shouted in excitement. She took the holder out of your hand and started analysing it. It was the original Stab movie's director's cut.

"Did a little digging in the attic." You shrugged.

"You're kidding me."

"Indeed I am. I needed to pay off the guy in the dvd renter so that he lets me to the backside of his place. I found this piece of art there."

She bit her lips in excitement as she looked at you, her beautiful eyes full of wonder. You nodded to her, so she would open it and place the dvd in the player. As it started playing, she sat beside you. Too close, for your body not to act up. You could only hope that the couch didn't vibrate from your heartbeat.

Even though you have already seen the scenes that were cut from the film on the internet, you eagerly waited for every one of them. When one would come up, you sat straighter. Yet, you couldn't pay attention to them because every time you sat up, Tara grabbed your hand, like she was afraid you would go away.

This made it impossible for you to look at the television. Your vision was filled with her, the way the lights reflected back from her beautiful eyes, the way her smile could melt any matter on the world and the way she looked up at you time to time. This was one of those moments. Your eyes met and you felt like you could gaze into hers for the rest of your life. Her eyes went to your lips, then back again. You did the same, whilst leaning just a tiny bit closer to her. She was the one to close the distance. You felt in heaven as your lips crashed together, the salty taste filling your every sense. Your eyes shut close as you pulled her into you. She was addicting, and would be the death of you. Somehow that idea just made her even more appealing. She separated herself from you, to take in a quick breath, then she was back onto you, her jaws biting your bottom lip ferociously.

She pulled away again, worry in her eyes from her own action. You already missed her presence on your lips. You chased after her kissing her the same way she did you. You sank onto her, grabbing her thighs as you pushed her down to the couch. You can't tell how much time you spent there, just making out. The only thing that stopped you was a sudden scream. You quickly looked up not really understanding where it came from. Her giggles made you realize, that it came from the movie. It was as if the outer world completely disappeared to you. The film was about to end, and the real stabbing began in it.

"Do you know how long you've kept me waiting for this?" you asked her, when your senses became clear again. You still couldn't believe what just happened.

"I actually do." she said with a smirk. "You aren't really good at hiding your feelings dear."

"Yes. I get that a lot."

She smiled at you, somehow being even more gorgeous than before, than snuggled up to your side, to finish the movie. You put a hand around her and played with her hair, as you finally calmed down. After the film, the two of you would have a long night ahead of you.

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From that point, you two were always found together. She didn't want to hide you, which made you even more confident. Days, weeks and months passed but nothing made you feel as complete as her. Well, almost complete. You still didn't feel quite right, but you couldn't put your finger around it.

As your third year began, you both found some new activities for yourselves. You signed up for drum classes, and she to a new art group. You knew she loved to draw, and this only made her already good style into something that you could only describe as "high art". One day, you went to her place only to find it empty. As you killed time, you found one of her old sketchbooks. Your eyes widened, when you realized more than half of them were you. Wait, were you really that beautiful in her eyes? When she got home, you couldn't stop teasing her with it, as you also complimented her work.

"Stop it!"

"Only if you draw me right now, so that I can see how well my gorgeous can draw!" you said with a wide grin.

She blushed at the comment. With a bit more of your nagging, she finally gave in. As she drew you, she started speaking about her peers at the art group. She kept mentioning a boy named Kent, whom she really got close with. A hint of jealousy hit your stomach as you listened to her.

"He helped me improve my line work." She was always rambling about something when she was focusing. It's one of the things you loved about her. Whenever she was cooking, which she was also a goddess at, she would always talk about her day, or something that was on her mind. "He is also the best student of his class."

"Well, he sounds like a nerd."

Tara's hand stopped and her mouth dropped open a little. "Is someone jealous?"

"No…" you huffed out immediately.

"Riiiiiight." she teased and returned to drawing.

In minutes, you already hated this Kent. Tara rented about him for a few more minutes, only because she loved your reaction. You hated every minute of it. Anger coiling in you, eating you up from the inside. A really familiar feeling, but you couldn't quite remember when you've felt like this. Then it hit you. Just a moment later, it, also hit you.

"You know what to do…"

You froze down in shock. Terror showed on your face, and Tara immediately stopped, watching you worriedly. 'No, no, no, no… It can't… Why…' you felt like your mind stopped working. Everything felt cold and hot at the same time, your clothes too tight, you couldn't breathe. Tara stepped to you, saying something, but you couldn't hear it. Then she gripped your shoulders and shook you up a bit.

"Look at me!" she spoke, her words finally hitting your ear. "Y/N!" you obliged. "What's the matter? It was just a joke. Nothing serious…" she hugged you softly.

"N- No it wasn't that…"

"Then what was it?"

You couldn't tell her. You wanted to run away, to curl up in a corner and hide the world from yourself. Her eyes wouldn't let you. So you did the second best thing that came to your mind. You lied.

"La- lately I have started having panic attacks. They are tied to what happened with me in my childhood." 'Idiot!' you thought.

"Mhm, how can I help?"

"This does…" you said eyeing her closeness. She held you even tighter now, calming you down.

You don't know how long you've been standing in her arms, but after a while you slowly pulled away to kiss her. "How's the drawing going?"

She smiled at you. "Ready for you to judge babe." she said, taking her sketchbook from the couch, showing you the newly drawn masterpiece. You were truly amazed by it.

"I can't decide why it looks so good. Because it is about me, or because you were the one to draw it." you teased.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next days were torture. It came back indefinitely. It overtook your image in your reflections once again. It spoke to you in the most inconvenient of times. It tried to influence you again. And it fuelled your hatred of Kent.

You always saw him around Tara, either you were, or weren't with her. He was like a little puppy, eagerly following her around. He definitely had a crush on her. This made you mad and insecure. It was like there was a knife, twisting in your stomach. The Voice only made it worse. Somehow it succeeded at making you not think of Kent as a human, but as a threat. As a predator, who was circling around something, that was yours. This made your nights restless and your days infuriating.

"We need to keep her safe." it spoke to you, as you were drying your hair.

"I need to keep her safe, yes. Stop using the royal we please."

"There is not one, without the other. I am a part of you and you can't even fuckin' deny it."

"I can, and I do. Can I dry my hair now?"

"I see your dreams as well as you do. I know you've been dreaming about it. Let us cut him up!"

You didn't answer him.

"Oh, it would be a site to see. The bloodied mess of his open stomach. I bet his screams would be just as beautiful as your dreams show. What sweet nightmare we can bring to life if we pay him a visit! Picture Tara! See as he touches her, as he holds her!" you couldn't cut the pictures out of your head. You were furious, full of hatred and jealousy. It took your thoughts over. No. You took your own thoughts over. "Now picture him dead."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night you put on the mask. You didn't need to go far for it, as it was tucked away in your closet. The robes and the knife too. Originally you only wanted to buy a fake knife, but to your aunt's advice, you bought a real one. What a great decision that was.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection didn't behave differently from you. You pulled the mask down, and smiled at yourself. It was you all along.

You started the engine of your aunts' car. She was away on a business trip, and left the car for your use at home. You couldn't be more thankful for her, that she thought you how to drive at summer. Kent was living at the other half of Woodsboro, and you didn't want unwilling eyes to see you.

You stopped two blocks away from his house. You put your mask on, and taped the voice changer to your neck. You got out of the car and quickly made your way to the backyard of his house. Light shined out of the building. Only one shutter wasn't pulled down, and it was on the second floor of the house. 'Fuckin' prick too. Oh this really will be fun!'

You pulled your phone out and rang the number of the houses' line phone. While still at home, you searched it out of the phone book, your aunt was still keeping at home. It rang for a while, before someone finally picked it up.

"Hello?" you heard his voice from the line, uncertain.

"Hello there Kent." you said, voice changer turned on.

"Who am I speaking to?"

You chuckled. "Soon, you'll discover. Tell me! Would you like to play a game?"

He didn't answer right away, as if he was talking to someone. Were his parents not out of town? "Well, I'm kind of in the middle of one, so I would say no…"

You looked in through a small gap at one of the shutters. "I think this game is more fun than Monopoly…" you said with a grin under your mask.

"How do you know what we're playing?"

"Don't you know not to ask this question?" oh, he was clueless. Sweet sweet ignorance.

Now, a familiar voice came to the phone. "Hello sweet prank caller! Could you please let my friend go now? He needs to step in my hotel!"

You recognized her. What was Tara doing here? Your mind went through the possible causes, then you remembered. She invited you too for game night, but you backed out of the offer. 'Fuck. Well, can't back off now can I?'

"No I cannot Tara Carpenter. I have some unfinished business with the gentleman."

You saw the shock that settled on her face through the gap. It didn't please you even in the least amount. Then she looked up at Kent and cut the line. Both of them are going to start searching for you know. The others already left. Mindy and Chad left with Liv, because she needed her private time with Chad, and Mindy didn't have a car of her own. Wes had a tight deadline to head home because of her mother. Amber called sick for the week. The only ones staying the longest were always you and Tara. You didn't know about Kents' friends, but you didn't see more people than two.

You climbed up at the eaves of the house to the window, where your only entrance lied. You opened it with your knife, and climbed in without a sound. You called again.

"So, I bet you are dying to hang on the line now!"

"You talked about a game… If I play, you leave us alone… Right?"

Obviously Tara wasn't near him. She would have given him such a smack, that his screams would've echoed up the stairs. Oh what wouldn't you give to hear that sound.

"Precisely! Now you are getting it. I ask, you answer. A wrong answer means five more stabs! Do I have your undivided attention?"

You heard his gulp through the phone. "Yes."

"What's your favourite scary movie?"

"There is no good answer to this!"

"Wrong… You are living in Woodsboro. There can only be one good answer. Stab. But since this would be an unfair game, I will give you some fair questions, so you have a chance." You played with your knife in hand, waiting for his response.

"Okay…"

"Tell me Kent. What were you and Tara talking about when you took her hand, and drag her to class?"

"How…"

"I think at this point you really should know better than to ask back boy."

Little pause. "We were talking about her girlfriend. I was saying she was too possessive of her and she started a fight with me.

"Very good! Two more questions to go." you said as you sneaked down the stairs. "I'm going to make this harder for you. Who is the man behind the mask in the original Stab?"

"Lemme think!"

"Tick tack Kent!" you said after ten seconds. "If you don't answer, Tara might be in trouble. And you wouldn't dare risk her pretty shirt getting all bloody would you now?

"If you dare touch her!"

"I would be more interested in your wellbeing at the moment, if I were you. Answer!"

"I- I don't know!"

"Wroooong again… You disappoint me young man. I know for a fact Tara has told you about this, since she tells everyone about them.  The right answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher." you were in the living room now, sanding not far and behind him. "Last question, and this better be right! Do you think, I could have made it into your house, through the window that was wide open on your second floor?"

His head shot back, fear in his eyes. It was more beautiful then you ever imagined. You theatrically hung up the phone, then waved at him with the knife.

"TARA RUN!" He yelled out, as he too, started to run towards the front door. You took your time chasing him. Before you called first, you barricaded the front door. Nobody could leave that way.

He was banging on the door terror in his eyes as you walked slowly closer. "What's your answer Kenty boy?"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm afraid that I can't take that as the right answer…" you said tsking, then you started running at him hand and knife raised. He tried to duck away, but you predicted it and ran your blade through his side. It felt so good! The warmth of his blood that soaked your hand, the scream of pain he let out. It was liberating. "One!" you shivered out, euphoria taking over your body.

You pulled the knife out of his stomach, then kicked him to the ground. He desperately tried to defend himself, failing miserably in it. As you climbed him, he hit your ribs, and tried to pull of your mask. Each attempt he made, you rewarded it with a stab. His blood spilled on your mask, bloodying it. You couldn't contain the laugh that escaped your mouth. You counted the stabs, making sure to reach the target. Blood spilled from his mouth as he writhed under you. Your own blood was pumping in your ear, making you numb. You almost didn't hear the scream that echoed through the house. Your head snapped back up, searching for its source. Even though you didn't want to believe it, you would have recognized that voice from anywhere. Tara was in trouble.

You stood up, kicking his now lifeless body in the process. Then marched your way to where you heard her. As you entered the kitchen, you froze down from confusion. Tara was on the ground, sticking a kitchen knife in someone's neck, whom you saw with Kent two times before. 'So there was a third wheel…' You watched as she took the life of the boy, only looking up at you after she was done, smile on her face. That bloodied smile made you melt. This was a completely new side of her, that you never saw before. The insanity in her eyes was burning, her perfect white teeth shown to you.

"What took you so long?" she asked still smiling, getting closer to you.

"What do you mean?" you asked back. Your voice changer didn't work anymore. Kent probably ruined it.

When she reached you, she took your mask of and kissed you immediately, all softness gone from her. She bit your tongue and pulled you into her smaller body. You were so turned on from her, and you knew she felt it.

"You mean, you wanted me to get to him?" you asked, as you pulled away for a moment.

"We both wanted you to get to him. Our first night together, remember? The Voice in you, overtook you, and made me feel better than ever." she said, as she started undressing you, pulling you upstairs. "Afterwards, we talked freely. You told me everything about your past, so I told you everything too. I told you, how I feel my anger build up until I can't control it. I told you about my first victim, and you devoured me for it! So in return, I decided to help free yourself." she took half a step back looking at you with wild, heart eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." you said instantly. As her lips crashed on yours, you could only think about you being finally complete. Complete with her, complete with yourself. You picked her up, and carried her upstairs. You dropped her onto the bed, and climbed after her. You were finally free. She liberated you, and you would dedicate your whole life to showing her how grateful you were for that.

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Overview and Masterlist

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

*cross-posted on AO3*

*Series In Progress*

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

About Lydia: A couple of years ago she'd have told you her life was over. Now, at 41, Lydia has realised the future is hers to make - even if that means never opening her heart up again.

She's an art historian and European - though this should not be taken to imply a specific appearance or ethnicity! Her family and other aspects of her background are established.

You'll notice that the physical descriptors for Lydia are deliberately loose, other than: her age, that she's fem/AFAB, her hair is starting to grey, and she's got stretch marks and a whole metric ton of issues with her own body. In other words: she can look whatever way you want her to look in your own imagination, bearing these aspects in mind, and be from wherever you want her to come from.

Rating: Explicit (18+) - individual chapters will have their own ratings (there's a lot of fluff and angst ahead) but smut will be very clearly signalled. Expect bad language throughout. If you read beyond the warnings on each chapter, you are agreeing you're 18 years or older.

Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; explicit smut (eventually); discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues; references to body issues; strong language; alcohol; I'll update if I need to as the fic continues

A/N: My love for Mr Ben is well-known but I couldn't stop thinking about him as a literature professor and, well, here we are. This is my first fic, and it's written as an AU with nary a sprinkling of canon about a character who existed for five minutes in a sketch. Make it make sense, Rose.

This is going to be a multi-chapter series (I have a plan and an outline document and everything). I plan to add some headcanons for Professor Benjamin at some point, and will pop some little drabbles in amongst the full chapters.

There will be smut - but this is a slow-burner. You have been warned.

Main Series:

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

Chapter 2 - Bright in the Sea

Chapter 3 - Ghosts

Chapter 4 - Save Me

Chapter 5 - This Must Be The Place

Chapter 6 - If You'd Accept Surrender

Chapter 7 - Forget Who We Are

Chapter 8 - Sister Winter

Chapter 9 - Open Your Eyes

Chapter 10 - Something About You

Chapter 11 - My Favourite Work of Art

Chapter 12 - If I Must Have A Future

Chapter 13 - Coming Soon!

One-Shots and Drabbles:

An Inspecteur Calls: A Pedrotober One-Shot

Books: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot

Christmas Tree: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Thanks: to the people who made me feel less bonkers for developing an entire world around Ben and Lydia - @cutesyscreenname, headcanon collaborator, moodboard creator, and Prof Benjamin E. Morales enabler supreme; the incredibly encouraging, kind, and heroic fic writers whose understanding of how to embrace the sensitive and emotional hidden side of 'canonical' characters is an inspiration - @lunapascal, @imaswellkid, @julesonrecord

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

[lulublack90]

About Me

Hi there, Lulu here.

I do have a real name but I prefer to go by Lulu on here and Ao3 so please use that.

I go by she/he/they. Call me what you want I don't mind. It changes day by day for me in the real world, but my friends and family don't know that.

I'm pansexual but again only a few people know that.

I'm in my 30's but have the maturity of a teenager unless I'm in parent mode when I have to pretend to be a grown-up (It does not last long!).

I am a huge huge huge Harry Potter fan (Fuck JK, she's a dick!) My house is full of so many HP-related items. In fact, I think every room has something in it, thank the gods my husband is also a massive nerd.

In case you can't tell I am Neurospicy. I am in the middle of getting diagnosed with ADHD and by that I mean I am procrastinating actually starting the process.

Now where was I?

Oh, yeah I like so much stuff I can't think what else to put here but yeah Harry Potter, mainly Marauders era but I love anything really.

My fav ships are Wolfstar (I've loved them since I was a young thing and didn't even know it was a thing." Jegulus (My new love.) Dramione (Lord have mercy) Drary (Lord I need more mercy) Pandalily (Meep!) Dorlene (Squeek!) I like Marylily as well but not as much, but I love them when I read them.

My asks are open and you can send me whatever you want, no hate please no one needs that in their life and Tumblr is my happy place don't spoil it.

Things that make me happy

You guys. Honesty it's Tumblr, I've only just really found this and all you amazing people who like my silly stories that I've only been writing regularly since December 23 when I found you all. My husband and son make me happy and so do my dogs and cats. I love watching storms and autumn. I read a lot, I crochet, I knit, I write. I am a huge fan of chocolate. If you give me chocolate I will be your friend.

Music

Bowie. Nuff said.

But yeah I like a lot of different stuff, it depends on my mood as to what I listen to. I drive my husband mad because I like songs by lots of people but I can't remember what they're called or who they're by.

Books

My all-time favourite book will always be Prisoner of Azkaban. It is my happy place.

My house is full and I mean full of books. I don't actually know how many I have but last time I estimated I had 300 in my bedroom alone. (There are piles of books in every room 😬)

ACOTAR!!!

Shows/movies

Harry Potter, The Martain, The Princess Bride, Labyrinth, Hunger games, Twilight (Don't judge me they got me through a dark time.), How to train your Dragon, Disney anything, plus others there are so many and I'm bored of listing.

Good Omens, Schitts Creek, Parks and Rec, Bake off, Handmaids tale, It's always sunny, community, Harbin hotel, archer, vampire diaries. Plus more but yeah typing.

Okay I think I'm done but who knows I might add more if I remember.

Love you all

Lulu

xxx

My Ao3 List

These are my fanfics on my ao3

Bitten M- Remus, Sirius and James head to the forest for a fun full moon. Everything is going great until one of them has an accident. (This was the very first fanfic I wrote. It's okay.) Wolfstar. Complete.

The Prisoner T- Sirius Black has been wrongly imprisoned for 12 years. He's bided his time but now its time to escape and right the wrongs of the past.

The Prisoner of Azkaban as told by Sirius Black, filling in the gaps starting with his escape from Azkaban. Wolfstar. Complete.

The Cupboard E- Hiding from Filch and awaiting rescue things get a bit close in the cupboard between Remus and Sirius. Wolfstar smut one shot. Complete.

Birthday E(I think, I'm not good at telling) Sirius finds Remus alone in their dorm room instead of enjoying the party downstairs. Wolfstar. Complete.

The One That Got Away E- James agrees to throw a party at his house. Sirius asks to bring his little brother, how could that possibly affect James at all? Based on the micro fic series I wrote in January. Jegulus. Backcould Wolfstar. Complete.

Jegulus Prompt Series All the prompts I've written on here in one place.

Wolfstar Prompt Series All the prompts I've written on here in one place.

The Way They Were T - While Harry is clearning out Grimmauld Place he discovers that Wolfstar were a thing.

Love Hate and the Ability to Change M - Sirius is taking Remus to the hosital wing on the full moon and Regulus catches them kisses. After some rather nasty words Regulus tells Sirius something about himself.

The Way They Are M - Part two of The Way They Were. Harry and Draco spend more time together and Draco finds another box for Harry, this time from Remus.

[rebelliousmuse]

Time Capsule - M.S.

Warning: mention of panic attacks.

---------------------------------------------------

Laughter echoed through the room, a mix of Nate's booming guffaws and Madi's high-pitched squeals as Chloe recounted a hilarious story. You were all sprawled on mismatched couches in your living room. As the four boys discussed their upcoming trip, a wave of pride washed over you. They meticulously planned the route and created a list of things they would need, while Chris peppered the conversation with outrageous (but secretly hilarious) ideas.

Nick slammed his hand on the table, interrupting Chris’ comments with a gasp so theatrical his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh my God, guys, remember the time capsule we did as teens?" A wide grin split his face. "We buried that thing in the backyard years ago, practically ancient history!"

Of course, you remembered the dented metal box, decorated with peeling stickers and hopeful teenage scribbles, filled with dreams and silly trinkets. "Oh yeah! I almost forgot about that!" you exclaimed. "We should definitely open it now."

The time capsule had been a clandestine operation, buried under the cover of darkness on the night before your fifteenth birthday. A pact had been made to unearth it when one of you turned 21, and with the triplets’ birthday just a month away, the timing felt perfect.

Chris plunged the shovel into the packed earth until a metallic clang was heard. The shovel had found its target. Kneeling, you brushed away the dirt, revealing a dented metal box, its once vibrant stickers faded and peeling.

Inside, random things lay nestled together: faded concert tickets, plastic army men with chipped paint, a well-worn copy of your favourite childhood book, and more. Tentatively, you picked up a folded piece of paper, the familiar scrawl of Matt's handwriting on it. "y/n," it read.

--

Across the room, Matt's eyes darted around the room, unable to meet yours, as he fidgeted with his fingers, nervous as his mind flashed back.

You crammed into Matt's messy room. As Matt tucked the note into the box, your gaze fell upon your name scrawled across the fold. "What's that, Matt?" you'd asked curiously. "You'll have to wait a few years to find out, sorry," he'd mumbled, his cheeks flushing a rosy red.

Oh no.

He had totally forgotten about it and now it was too late to get your hands off the paper. Memories flooded his mind – stolen glances in the school hallway, shy smiles exchanged over shared jokes. He'd poured his heart onto that paper, naively believing the act of writing it down would somehow exorcise his feelings. Nick had convinced him to put it in the time capsule. "Just bury it deep," Nick had said. "Out of sight, out of mind, right?" Matt had clung to that hope, a wish that somehow, all these years later, the feelings would just... vanish.

But the past refused to stay buried. As you unfolded the note, Matt's heart going wild. The truth was about to come out, and he had no idea how you'd react.

Matt couldn't tear his gaze from the note. As your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you read, fear gripped him. His breath hitched in his throat, and his hands instinctively curled into fists. He needed to get out. Now.

He didn't think, he just reacted. With a surge of adrenaline, he lurched backward. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and suffocating. He stumbled towards the door, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Reaching the bathroom door, his fingers, slick with sweat, fumbled with the lock. A choked gasp escaped his lips as he slammed the door shut. He leaned against the cool wood as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the tremors wracking his body. The taste of panic filled him. He had to get a grip. He had to figure out what to do next. But for now, the locked bathroom door was the only barrier between him and you.

--

The note fluttered in your hand, the words blurring as a wave of surprise washed over you. A mixture of emotions swirled in your chest – curiosity, amusement, nervousness. You glanced around the room, searching for Matt, but he was gone. "Matt?" you called out, looking around for him.

"Marylou?" you called, heading towards the kitchen. "Have you seen Matt?" Her answer, a shake of her head, did little to ease the knot forming in your stomach as you climbed the stairs. At the top you saw the bathroom door firmly shut. You heard muffled sounds, and ragged gasps for breath.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. "Matt? Is that you?"

--

Matt's vision blurred at the edges. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale did nothing to ease the pressure building in his chest. The room seemed to tilt, the walls threatening to cave in on him. He sank to the floor, his arms wrapped around his torso in an attempt to hold himself together. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Then, a voice pierced the fog of his panic. Your voice. "Matt? Is that you?" It was laced with concern.

"Are you okay?" The question hung in the air. He was paralyzed 'What do I do now?' The question echoed in his mind. His breaths hitched and his body wracked with silent sobs.

--

"Matt!" you called alarmed. "Matt, please answer me!". Just as despair threatened to consume you, a rasping voice broke through the silence.

"I can't… breathe," he choked out barely audible words. Relief washed over you. "Matt, let me in!" you pleaded. From inside, you heard a shuffling sound, then a weak groan as he fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open a sliver, revealing Matt's pale face. His eyes were shut, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hands, trembling violently, tore at the collar of his shirt in a desperate attempt to get more air. Without hesitation, you pushed the door open and rushed to his side.

You sank down onto the cool tile floor beside him, pulling him into a hug. His trembling body pressed against yours, his ragged breaths hot against your neck. Taking a deep breath yourself, you focused on the grounding technique you'd seen online. "Okay, Matt," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Let's focus on your senses. Okay?".

Matt didn't respond at first, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. Matt squeezed his eyes shut. "Okay," he whispered, opening his eyes. You smiled encouragingly. "Alright, Matt. What five things can you see right now?" He scanned the small bathroom, still shaking, his gaze landing on the chipped porcelain sink. "Sink…” he said with a trembling voice, “Shower… mirror, floor”, he took a deep breath “Curtains”.

You continued, guiding him through the exercise. With each question, Matt seemed to anchor himself a little more firmly in the present. He described the cool tile beneath his fingertips, the sharp scent of disinfectant, the way the flickering light cast dancing shadows on the walls. His breaths came slower, deeper, the ragged gasps replaced by a steady rhythm.

“Very good, Matt. Last one, name one thing you can hear.” You said as you continued hugging him. "I hear… your heartbeat," he mumbled. You held him close, stroking his hair in a slow, calming rhythm. His grip on you loosened slightly, replaced by a tremor that gradually subsided.

You slowly pulled away, your gaze lingering on Matt's face. He avoided your eyes. "Better?" you asked softly.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Thanks." He shuffled his feet, his entire posture radiating a desperate need for escape. Taking a deep breath, Matt spoke. "I forgot about it... the letter, and I just..." His voice trailed off.

"Why did that make you panic?" you asked "You were just a kid, it's not like you still feel that way," you finished your sentence with a hint of disappointment colouring your tone.

Matt's head snapped up, his teary gaze meeting yours. "And what if I still feel those things?" he said in a whisper as his eyes wandered away from yours again.

Surprise flickered across your face. Reaching out, you cupped his face making him look at you once more. "Do you?" you asked. Matt nodded hesitantly.

Leaning in, you met his gaze. "Kiss me," you whispered. Matt opened his mouth “What-”, but the words died on his lips as you crushed your lips against his.

Matt, caught off guard by your boldness, froze for a moment. Then, he melted into the kiss. His hand, which had been hovering awkwardly at his side, crept up to rest on the back of your head, his fingers grabbing your hair slightly. Your hand moved to cradle his cheek. The kiss deepened, in a slow, sensual exploration of each other’s mouth. His lips moving in synchronicity with yours.

You pulled away, both of you gasping for air. Your foreheads rested against each other for a moment. Matt's eyes held yours. He seemed to be searching for answers.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he finally asked, his voice thick with a mix of frustration and a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"Why didn't you?" you countered. “Cause I’m a coward” he said with a joking tone. You mirrored it, "Hey, don't insult my man." A genuine smile lit up Matt's face. He bit his lower lip. "Your man?" he repeated, pulling you close by the waist “I like how that sounds”, he finished saying, leaning in, connecting your lips once more.

[duskandcobalt]

Comfort Crowd

hi! this is my contribution to day one of #azrielappreciationweek2023 (cc: @azrielappreciationweek)

the prompt is "The Family You Make" so I wrote a little one-shot about Az and Nesta, my favourite little bestie pairing 💕

1.3k words - no warnings other than slight language :) just two friends notorious for not talking about their emotions, talking about emotions!

ENJOY XX

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel struggles to hold back his grin when Nesta waddles into the library at the House of Wind where he’s reclined on a sofa in front of the fireplace, flipping through yet another report in preparation for a meeting with Rhys in the morning. She’s wearing a simple oversized nightgown in the colour of cream, one of her hands rests on her swollen belly while the other is pressed against the small of her back.

Nesta is only a few weeks from giving birth to his very first niece and while she’d only become more beautiful over the past few months, the scowl on her face tells him that she is more than ready for this pregnancy to be over.

Azriel quickly swings his long legs off the sofa, shuffling around and sitting up to make room for her.

“Oh, yes. Please. Go ahead and laugh at me.” She glares at him as he chuckles, watching as she carefully lowers herself onto the seat he’d left free for her. He knows better than to offer help but a few of his shadows gather around her just in case. “If you had been a better chaperone, maybe I wouldn’t be in this fucking predicament.”

“Right.” Azriel snorts. “As if my presence has ever deterred you two from…” He trails off, making vague gestures with his hands to convey his thoughts instead of using the obscenities that came to mind. 

She only rolls her eyes in response and he knows that she knows that he’s right. 

Nesta and Cassian had never been particularly shy about making sure their needs were met and as ravenous as the two of them were, Azriel’s ears had unintentionally been made witness to their activities more times than he cared to admit. Even the enchanted ear plugs Elain gave him for Solstice one year hadn’t been enough to drown out the sound some nights.

Azriel pats his leather covered thigh and Nesta’s lips tilt upwards at the corners as she turns to the side and lifts her legs. He reaches down and meets her halfway, grasping her calves to help her lay on the sofa with her feet in his lap. Nesta sighs with relief at the feeling of his thumb pressing into the sole of her foot.

“Oh you’re so wonderful to me, Shadowsinger. So good with those hands of yours.” She smirks. There’s a suspicious lilt to her voice. “I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you with you-know-who.” 

Azriel’s hands pause as he fixes her with a stern look. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Nesta apologises, laughing in a way that tells Azriel she isn’t sorry at all. “Please keep going, I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

They spend most of their evenings together like this whenever Azriel is home from an assignment, whether Cassian is around or not. Most of the time, the three of them gather together in the library or the living room, chatting until the early hours of the morning. But sometimes it’s just him and Nesta, sitting in the comfort of each other’s presence, passing sweets back and forth while she reads a book and he reads his reports.

It was rare for Azriel to befriend new people but Nesta had seamlessly become a significant part of his life because they had understood each other so intrinsically from the very beginning.

Azriel had seen right through her abrasiveness. He knew that behind her snark and cutting remarks, there was a female that was so wounded that she’d rather push people away than let someone in close enough to hurt her. He understood that she was frightened to allow herself the things she wanted for fear that they would be taken from her.

Likewise, he had caught Nesta watching him with eyes that noticed too much on multiple occasions. He was aware that she saw the way he yearned for something or someone he couldn’t or wouldn’t allow himself to pursue. Azriel also had utter confidence that she would never say anything about it to anyone, or even to him, unless he brought it up first. 

Nesta would always keep his unspoken secrets just as he kept hers. 

It’s quiet in the library for a long while, only the quiet crackle of the fire and the sighs coming from Nesta as Azriel relieves the agonsing tension in her feet, when she breaks the silence. 

“Az?” Her voice is uncharacteristically soft in a way that makes her seem so small. When he glances over at her, Nesta’s eyelids are shut and there’s a tiny, sad frown on her face. 

“What is it, Nes?”

“I’m so scared.” Her words are shaky and barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not a good mother?”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrow together, his fingers stopping for half a second as he contemplates what to say.

“Why would you think that?” 

“I just…” She takes a deep breath. “I never had a good relationship with my own mother and I’m worried that I’ll end up being just like her.” 

Azriel opens his mouth to respond but stops when she continues.

“Cassian is so good. He has so much love and he gives it so freely.” Nesta swallows. “It’s harder for me. What if I screw her up?” 

“I think that being worried that you’ll be like your mother is proof enough that you won’t be anything like her. Bad parents don’t tend to worry about how they’ll treat their children.” Azriel says gently. “You love so deeply, Nesta. Just because you show it in a different way than Cass, it doesn’t mean that you’re any less capable of raising and caring for a child than he is.” 

Nesta exhales and Azriel can tell that her mind is still racing. 

“You practically raised, Elain.” He rotates her ankles. “I know how much you love your sisters and I know how much they love you. Besides, you’re already wonderful with Nyx. He adores you. He’s always babbling about his Aunt Nesta.”

Azriel smiles when he hears her laugh quietly. She knows that what he said is true. Because while Rhysand and Feyre’s son was often attached by the hip to Elain, Nesta was the only person he’d leave her to go running to the second he heard her voice or she entered his line of vision. 

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys had all burned with jealousy that the winged boy they had waited centuries for had seemingly taken an immediate liking to the females of the family but with any luck, they’d get their revenge once Cassian and Nesta’s daughter entered the picture.

“You’ll be an incredible mother.” Azriel pats her calf in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “You and Cass will be brilliant parents and that little girl will be so loved. You know I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’re a great friend, Az.” She reaches a hand out to him and he takes it in his. Warmth floods him as she squeezes his fingers gently. “Cass and I are lucky to have you. She’ll be so  lucky to have you, too.” Nesta rubs her other hand over her bump and Azriel watches in amazement as her movement is met with a small but powerful kick from the babe inside her womb. 

“She agrees.” One of Nesta’s eyebrows lifts in amusement and she gives him her first proper smile of the night. 

His heart swells as he returns her bright smile with a soft one of his own. It swells even more when he looks up to see Cassian leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, watching him and Nesta with a fond smile and eyes shimmering with tears.

Azriel couldn’t possibly think of anyone better suited to be his best friend’s Mate. Nesta was strong willed and stubborn but she loved so fiercely even if she couldn’t admit it to herself. She would lay her life on the line for Cassian over and over again, as she had done once before. It was the tough, relentless type of love that his kind hearted friend deserved and Azriel was proud that over time, she had slowly but surely become someone that he could not only call his friend, but his sister.

[whisperingwillowxox]

Bookworm

Hey guys! I had this idea for a fic and wanted to share it with you. It was only supposed to be a one-shot, but if anyone would like a part 2, just leave a comment and let me know.

Summary: Reader finds themself stuck at the library. Luckily our favourite Spree driver is there to save the day.

Warnings: afab!Reader/mentions of a past abusive relationship.

Word Count: 2076

It was raining. It had seemed like a nice day when you had set off in your little sundress that kissed your mid-thigh. It didn’t now though, as you watched through the library doors as the rain bounced off the sidewalk, the black clouds showing no sign of it stopping. Sighing, you clutch the book you’d just taken out closer to your chest. Today of all days you had decided against taking your backpack, and now you were having to consider how you were going to get home without getting drenched.

Resigning yourself to spending the rest of the afternoon waiting until the rain finally died off, you walk back towards the main desk where the head librarian, Eliza, was perched. “You ok, Hun?” She asked gently, looking at you over the top of her glasses. Eliza had been working at the Azusa Public Library for the last 40 years, and she had quickly become your favourite person since you moved to this town after breaking up with your ex, wanting a fresh start.

“I will be when this rain stops. I walked here today and didn’t bring any money for the bus.” You huffed.

“Let me get you a Spree.” Eliza smiled, pulling her phone out from under the desk.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.” You try to argue, but the older woman was already waving you off.

“That rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon, Dear.” Eliza tells you, already tapping away at the screen. “Besides, I’ve got to make sure my books stay in good condition. What’s your address?”

You rattled it off as you stood there, still clutching the book to your chest. Eliza’s kindness is something that took you a little while to get used to. You didn’t really have any friends growing up, and your parents were never home, and when they were they weren’t exactly the most affectionate. For a little while you thought you’d found what you were missing in your ex, but once you moved in with him, he changed, becoming controlling and mean. He’d play on your insecurities to knock down your confidence, until you only felt safe with him. It had taken you a hot second to realise what he’d done, but once you did you packed your stuff and got out of there. You may now live in a small town, in an even smaller apartment, but you were proud of yourself for getting back on your feet.

“Oh, that was fast!” Eliza said suddenly. “He’s just around the corner. A white Prius, the driver is a ‘Kurt Kunkle’.” She read.

“Thank you so much, Eliza.” You smile gratefully. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“None of that.” She said, once again waving you off. “Just get home safe, Dear.”

The car in question pulled up just as you got to the doors. You tried to hide the book under your arms and pulled it tighter to your chest, before flinging the door open and rushing to the car.

You practically dove into the backseat, shutting the door, and scooting over to sit behind the passenger seat.

“Oh, um, hello.”

You look up and are met with the prettiest brown eyes you’d ever seen. “Hi.” You said shyly, placing the book on the seat next to you to put your safety belt on.

The driver, ‘Kurt’ you reminded yourself, looked at his phone and then back at you, a frown creasing between his brows. “Um, a-are you sure you’re in the right car?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice.

Glancing at his phone you saw that the only thing Kurt had for reference on who he was picking up was a photo. A photo of a 60+ year old woman. “Oh! Yes, sorry. Eliza works at the library; she didn’t want me walking home in the rain.” You quickly tried to explain. Kurt seemed to deem this an acceptable answer, confirming your actual name and address address before pulling away.

Figuring you’d kill some time, you reached for your book, only then noticing the camera facing you. You glanced around the car, counting 6 cameras in total, and shrank back in your seat. “Um, Kurt?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah?” He glanced at you in the rear-view mirror, a friendly smile seemingly glued to his features.

“Why are there so many cameras in here?”

“Oh!” He grinned, and you immediately noticed the excitement radiating from him. “It’s for my channel. I’m a content creator.”

He seemed happy with his own answer, somewhat proud even, but you felt a sudden wave of anxiety creep up on you. “This…” You started, nervously fiddling with the hem of your dress. “This isn’t like…a sex thing, is it?”

You watch in the mirror as Kurt’s eyes nearly bug out of his head, and it would have been funny if you weren’t mentally preparing yourself to jump from a moving car at the first moment of danger.

“No! G-God no! I just s-stream my Spree rides.” He choked out. “I just talk to my Kurties, try and make the rides more exciting.”

“Kurties?” You ask, less nervous now and more curious.

“My fans.” He grinned again, stopping at a set of lights. He whipped round to look at you, making you jump slightly at the suddenness of his action. “You should follow me! I’m KurtsWorld96!”

Watching him smile and looking so excitable, you realised how pretty this boy was. Sure, his hair was a little greasy, but it didn’t distract you from his kind face, squared with a little bit of stubble coming through. “I’d love to, but I don’t have social media.” You said sheepishly.

Kurt’s face pinched into a frown again, as if he didn’t understand what you were saying. A car horn from behind alerted him that the lights were changed, and he turned back away from you, and you couldn’t help but kind of miss the eye contact.

“How do you not have a social media presence?” He asked, seemingly baffled. “What about your brand? Like what you’re putting out for the world to see.”

“A ‘brand’ would imply that I’m someone important.” You tell him quietly. “I’m not, I’m just me.”

His frown didn’t go away but he didn’t say anything else so you assume that the conversation must be over. You swallow down the disappointment, and instead open your book and try to focus on the words, rather than your embarrassing attempt at conversation with a cute boy.

You were happily pretending to concentrate on the pages in front of you when Kurt cleared his throat. “What’s that you’re- what are you reading?” He stumbled with his words, and you couldn’t help but find it slightly endearing.

“Good Omens.” You answer apprehensively. In your experience whenever someone asks what book you’re reading, it’s either to make a joke at your expense, or you overestimate their interest and watch as they don’t bother to hide their bored expression.

Kurt glances at you in his mirror again, “I’ve never heard of that. What’s it a-about?”

You watch him for a second. His interest seems genuine, but you’ve made this mistake before. Instead, you drop your gaze and fiddle with the edge of the page. “It’s about an angel and a demon who lose the Anti-Christ. They’ve got to find him before he ends the world.

You look back up and see Kurt’s brows risen in surprise. “S-sounds super dark. You don’t look like you’d b-be into that sort of- kind of thing.”

“Oh, it’s not actually dark. It sort of encapsulates the idea that people can defy expectations, and that everyone has free will. Just because the Anti-Christ was born to destroy the world, doesn’t mean he wants to. We can be who we want to be. Plus, it’s funny and there’s this romantic subtext between the angel and demon-” You cut yourself off, realising that you had probably began to ramble the poor boy to death.

When you look back at him, you expect his eyes to be glazed over, but he’s smiling at you. Not a little polite smile either, a big beaming smile like you’ve just given him some amazing news. “Y-you like books, huh?”

You feel your cheeks heat up as your mouth opens and closes a few times, not really knowing how to react to this curveball Kurt has sent your way. “Hey, t-there’s nothing wrong with that. B-books aren’t really my vib- my thing, but that doesn’t m-mean you can’t like them.” You watched as he turned to the camera set up right next to him “You s-should never stop doing the stuf- things you’re passionate about.” He finished. He spoke in a tone that gave off the impression of wisdom, but it was immediately extinguished when he finished his speech by throwing up a peace sign to the camera.

You couldn’t have stopped the giggle that bubbled out of you if you wanted to, and it was worth it when Kurt blushed so hard the top of his ears went pink. You caught his bashful smile in the mirror and smiled to yourself as you opened your book again.

You sat in silence for a little while longer, reading your book and trying to fight a grin whenever Kurt would make a comment on something to his “fans”. But eventually you felt the car pull up and looked up to see your apartment block staring back at you.

“I think this is you.” Kurt said quietly, and you hoped the disappointment you thought you heard in his tone wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks on you.

“Yeah.” You tried to keep your tone light, but the truth was Kurt was one of the only people you’d ever met that made you feel so comfortable in such a short space of time. You blame it on the fact that he’s so awkward and dorky that you can’t help but feel relaxed.

You unclipped your safety belt and once again pulled your book close to your chest, mentally calculating the sprint from the car to your door. You looked back at Kurt to find the boy, once again, already staring at you. “Thank you, Kurt.” You smiled shyly.

Any moment that may have been forming was quickly ruined as a robotic voice sounded from Kurt’s phone, startling you slightly. “OMG man just ask for her number. You stupid?”

Kurt blinked at you, his blush coming back in full force. “I, um, you don’t have to- u-unless you want to-”

“Yes.” You said quickly.

Kurt’s eyes widened in shock, and you could practically hear the gears in his head grinding to a halt. “Yes?”

You give him a small smile as you once again felt your own cheeks heat up. “Yes, you can have my number.” You tell him quietly.

The grin that takes over Kurt’s face is almost blinding as he giddily grabs his phone from the holder and opens his contacts. You pull your phone out from the little pocket in your dress and flip it open, finding your own number. When you look back up at him, he has the most confused expression you think you’ve ever seen on another human. He’s staring at the device in your hand, an old Nokia flip phone, as if he’s trying to figure out a difficult maths equation.

“Yeah…” You start awkwardly. “I told you I’m not really one for the whole social media thing. Seemed silly paying all that money for a phone when I’m just using it for texts and calls.”

“Yeah, t-that makes sense I guess.” Kurt smiles.

You rattle off your number and Kurt quickly types it into his phone. I’ll text you so you can save m-my number too.”

“That sounds good, Kurt.” You both smile at each other. His phone pinging makes the both of you jump and he looks down at it with a frown. “Oh crap, I have another Spree request.” He says disappointed.

“That’s ok.” You smile, putting your phone back into you pocket. “Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll talk to you later.” You tell him, throwing him one last shy smile before clutching your book and making a bolt for your apartment block.

Later, after you had showered and were curled up on your couch reading, your phone vibrated in your pocket against your leg. You smiled as you opened the message from an unsaved number.

“Hey! It’s Kurt!’

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 4)

NESTA ARCHERON X FEMALE!READER (future Neris x reader)

summary: The plan finally takes off, and you train with Azriel.

warnings: sexual jokes, feysand slander, that’s it I think

word count: 6.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: finally things are kicking off! This is my longest chapter yet, and where shit starts to get real! A bit of Azriel x reader tidbits because y’all are sluts for the shadowsinger - it’s not endgame and they’re just homies but I had to throw in some flirting ;) Please let me know what you think of ths chapter!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinons, im more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1

part 2

part 3

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

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You and Nesta were careful to avoid each other the next day. Whenever Cassian or Azriel were nearby, you were sure to cast cold looks at each other, the frost between you two so realistic and palpable you were almost proud.

When Cassian was in the kitchen eating breakfast with Nesta, you made sure to take your plate to your room. If you sat in the corner of the library reading, Nesta would take her book elsewhere. You missed that ease between you two that you had built up over the past few months, but knew you had to let it go to plan for the long term.

Nesta had begun training with Cassian, which you knew was hard for her. She was weak, in body and mind from both lack of nutrition and trauma from the past year. It can’t have been easy for her, or her pride, to agree to it. However, you knew deep down that she must not be making it easy for Cassian, the thought of the two of them snapping at each other the whole time made you chuckle.

As you suspected, it took a week for the shadowsinger to approach you. No doubt he had told Feyre and Rhysand of your spat with the High Lady’s sister and they saw the perfect opportunity to use you to their advantage while you were vulnerable. It was mid morning when you heard a polite but firm knock on your door.

“Come in.” You said, brushing the charcoal off your hands. You had found an art supply room in one of the cupboards, filled with your favourite materials – thick, black paper and white charcoal with smudge sticks. You loved art, specifically drawing in this medium, so you had set up an easel with the paper in your room.

The door creaked open, and Azriel stepped in. The first thing you noticed was that his shadows kept to themselves, still revealing themselves enough to remind you that they were there but not so as to intimidate you. His dark hair had a few loose strands that hung into his sharp, tanned face. Those hazel eyes almost glowed, as if they could see into your very soul. He was clad in his usual Illyrian leathers, and you momentarily wondered if that was all he owned. He had a strong presence, but was not as scary as you thought he’d be.

For that, you were somewhat relieved. The last thing you needed was the Night Court’s spymaster trying to intimidate you into doing what they wanted.

“Good morning.” Azriel said politely, leaving the door open to your relief. “I see you have found the art supply closet.”

You nodded, not giving him an answer. You tried to calm your racing heart – the thought of having to try and fool the Night Court’s spymaster made you want to die, but you had to give it a shot. Which meant not being suddenly agreeable.

“The High Lady enjoys painting,” He said when you did not answer. “Perhaps you would like to attend one of her classes.”

“Is she even good?” You snorted, smudging the corner of your charcoal onto the black paper.

Azriel was quiet for a split second, before answering, “Yes.”

You laughed sharply at his hesitation. “I thought you were supposed to be good at lying, spymaster. Besides, I don’t think prisoners are allowed to join art classes.”

“I could take you–” Azriel began to offer.

“You didn’t come here to talk about art with me.” You interrupted him. “What do you and your High Lord and Lady want with me?”

Azriel’s expression remained stoic, irking you. “I heard your fight with Nesta.” He said simply.

You forced yourself to flinch, pretending like the news was a shock to you. Those hazel eyes bore into yours, searching for something. So you avoided his gaze, feigning discomfort.

“It’s none of your business.” You mumbled, busying yourself with rearranging the white sticks of charcoal at the bottom of the easel.

“She seemed eager to stand up for you the other night,” Azriel’s gaze didn’t change one bit. “What changed?”

You took a shaky breath. Fooling him may be harder than you thought. “You were the one listening apparently, so why don’t you tell me?”

Azriel took a step closer to you, and for a second his eyes softened. “Are you okay?” He asked, his deep voice quieter than before.

You gulped. “I’m fine,” You answered. “I’ve moved on. Not like I knew her well.”

“You spent a lot of time together,” Azriel countered. “And she practically started a fight with Rhysand at dinner over you. She clearly cared for you more than I’ve seen her with anyone besides Elain, but then again I do not know her well either.”

“Key word being ‘cared’, shadowsinger.” You told him, meeting his gaze. “Nesta made herself clear the other day.”

Azriel said nothing, just stared at you. It took everything in you not to squirm beneath his gaze – it frustrated you being unable to read his expression, or figure out what he was up to. Realizing he wouldn’t be the one to break the new silence first, you spoke up again.

“You didn’t come here to discuss art, and I also doubt you came here to discuss my fight with Nesta,” You challenged him, straightening your back. “So I’ll ask you again, what do you and your highnesses want with me? I assume they sent you here after you told them about the fight.”

“They did. Feyre knows how mean Nesta can be, and wanted to be sure you were alright.”

“Bullshit.”

“Do not speak about my High Lady with such disregard, (Y/N).”

“Try and stop me. I’ll speak about her however I want, unless you’re going to use that pretty blade and take my tongue for it.”

You and Azriel glared at each other, neither backing down for a few minutes. Normally you’d have glared until he took the hint and left, but you had to swallow your pride and submit to that piercing hazel gaze.

“There’s something else though, isn’t there?” You said, averting your eyes and brushing dust off your skirt. “Or else they wouldn’t have sent you.”

For a second, you thought the shadowsinger would simply ignore your words, and just keep glaring at you. But he folded his flared wings and clasped his scarred hands behind his back.

“The High Lord and Lady have a proposal for you.” Azriel stated formally.

So it’s working. You observed with relief.

“And you are here to take me to them?” You asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

To your surprise, Azriel let out a short breath almost like a laugh. “No,” He said. “They figured that after the manner in which your last few meetings had gone, their presence would make you…antagonized.”

You rolled your eyes. “Less agreeable, you mean.”

“To put it honestly, yes. Would you have preferred to speak to them directly?”

“No.”

“Which is exactly why I am here. Shall we go fetch lunch? Nesta and Cassian are at training so they will not be joining us.”

You sighed, knowing refusing wasn’t an option. You had expected he would just barge in here and demand you comply, yet he wasn’t. You had heard stories of the legendary shadowsinger, tales of how dangerous and terrifying he was, and yet all you saw was a stoic Illyrian general.

Which is exactly what made him so dangerous.

Deciding it would be in your best interest to play along, you peeled off your smock and set it on the stool. “Lead the way.”

Azriel led you to the kitchen, remaining a few feet ahead of you. His shadows swirled around his shoulders as he moved, curling around his massive wings as if they were watching you. You did not doubt that they were.

When you arrived, he pulled out your chair for you before grabbing your plates from the counter and setting them down. He sat opposite of you, waiting for you to start eating.

He’s not getting what he wants that easily. You thought indignantly, deciding to make his job just that extra bit harder.

“I’m not eating until you tell me what they want.” You said, lifting your chin up.

Azriel sighed, exasperated and likely pissed off that he was the one stuck dealing with you. “Just eat.”

“I will. When you tell me what they want from me. Why the feared spymaster of the Night Court has nothing better to do than sit here trying to get me to eat my veggies.”

The steel balls you had to talk to him like that was almost laughable – if you had been told a year ago that you’d be snapping at the Night Court’s spymaster without a knife to your throat you’d have fainted.

Clearly, he thought so too, for his once stoic expression was now tight with annoyance. “Are you always this difficult?” He asked.

“Yes.” You replied.

A vein in Azriel’s neck twitched, as if he were contemplating just saying fuck this and leaving right then and there, or if he should give in in order to do what Rhysand and Feyre asked.

Evidently, it was the latter.

“As you know, Tamlin allowed Hybern into his borders and it destroyed his court–”

“Thanks to your High Lady.” You interrupted, unable to help yourself. It earned you a sharp glare.

“Which matters not.” He continued, annoyed. “The war is over now, but Tamlin is still a threat.”

“How?” You gawked. “The male has literally nothing left, no armies or spies, not even his own people. How does that pose any threat to the Night Court?”

“The fact he has nothing left is what makes him so dangerous. He has nothing left to lose if he wants to take revenge–”

“Again, thanks to your High Lady.”

“Could you let me fucking finish?” Azriel snapped. You almost giggled at the shadowsinger’s thinly stretched patience with you, but even you knew better than to push further so you sat back and hugged.

“As I was saying,” He continued. “Tamlin is dangerous. He hates Feyre and Rhysand, and spends his time roaming his court in beast form. He has an extreme amount of power, and if he decides to turn it towards us we need to know.”

“So send in your spies to keep an eye on him.” You snapped.

“It’s too dangerous, none of them would get past Tamlin.” Azriel said. “But you would.”

So I was right, You thought smugly. It wasn’t hard to figure out that the Night Court would want you to spy on your own High Lord for them as payment of your debt to them.

“And why would I spy on my own High Lord?” You asked. “Also, you’re forgetting one very important detail, shadowsinger. I’m not a spy.”

Azriel set his fork down, folding his arms and tilted his head. “You don’t have to be a spy. You just have to be yourself.”

You sighed, folding your arms in return. You knew where this was headed. “I just have to report to you, is that it?”

Azriel nodded. “Yes. Tamlin knows you, he will not question you, I doubt he even has noticed you were gone. You will convince him to let you stay at the manor, and report to me anything suspicious. And since you don’t know how to shut that mouth of yours and use it properly, I will train you.”

You nearly burst out into laughter at the innuendo. You couldn’t deny that Azriel was handsome, so the thought of letting him teach you how to use your mouth wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. That is, if you weren’t a prisoner in his court. And if you didn’t hate his superiors.

“So let me get this straight,” You said, shaking away your weird thoughts. “You want me to meander back into the Spring Court, ask my High Lord if I can live in his house, and then spy on him and report his movements to you? But I have to train with you first so that he doesn’t find out, since I’ll be risking my life doing this? Am I correct?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get out of it?”

“You get out of the House of Wind, for starters.”

“Not good enough. I want a salary.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, staring at you in surprise. You rolled your eyes at his shock, amazed that he thought you’d do this for free.

“What?” You asked. “I’m absolutely not doing free labour for you. The only people who don’t pay their prisoners are Hybern, you know.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“That’s literally so much worse.”

“We have fed and housed you at our expense for the past three months.” Azriel snapped.

“And I’m sure their pockets are hurting terribly for it,” You hissed back sarcastically. “Didn’t Mor mention they were building a fifth estate during dinner? Surely they can afford to pay me for my work. Also, it is common courtesy to help an injured member of another court if they end up in your territory. Surely after 500 years of politics you’d all know this?”

Azriel grunted, and you tried not to grin at your victory. You could tell he saw some truth to your words.

“I’ll speak to Rhysand about it.” He grumbled. “Any other conditions?”

“If I think of any I’ll let you know.” You said cheerily, finally picking up your fork and digging into the meal in front of you. You could tell Azriel wanted to snap back, but refrained himself when he saw you were holding up your end of the bargain.

“You have eighteen hours to decide,” Azriel said, standing up. “Because we start tomorrow.”

*********************

Our plan is working. Azriel is going to train me as some sort of spy. Your sister and her mate want me sent back to Spring Court to spy on Tamlin for them. I demanded pay, of course, which pissed them off. How’s Cassian coming along?

You left the note in the designated book, returning a few hours later to find one for you in the other book.

Good. Training is brutal, everything hurts. At least Cassian is being nice about it. Apparently he and Rhys met in the Spring Court with Eris the other day, not sure why. Maybe you’ll be able to find out.

Your brow furrowed as you read this new information. Part of you was suspicious – if Eris was popping up in the Spring Court, right where you were supposed to be sent, it was extremely convenient. Maybe too convenient. But could work very well in your favour.

Frankly, Nesta would probably have better luck getting the details out of why Rhys and Eris are meeting in secret from Cassian than you would from Azriel. It didn’t escape your notice how the General padded after Nesta like a lost puppy, wearing his heart on his sleeve whenever she lashed out. Part of you was jealous, and you hated yourself for it. You had no right to envy their time together – it was all part of your plan after all, and they did share a kiss during the war. Cassian seemed like a better male than Rhysand at least, maybe he’d let Nesta in on their plans. You prayed he did, otherwise it was up to you to pry information out of Azriel, and may the Mother help you if that was the case.

Speaking of Azriel, you noticed a note taped to your easel upon your return to your room after some more reading. You had spent the rest of the evening reading, only seeing Nesta once out of the corner of your eye. She was passing through on her way to the dining room, clad in tight fitting Illyrian leathers that almost made your jaw drop. The way the pants clung to her hips as she walked–

You had to physically shake your head as if it would clear the thoughts away. The two of you had to assume Azriel was somehow watching every corner of the House, so you couldn’t make a smartass comment about her leathers. Maybe you’d write it later in a letter….

No, You thought to yourself angrily. That’s inappropriate.

Frankly you didn’t even know if Nesta liked females in that way. You both liked males, that much was clear, but you had always enjoyed females as well. Frankly, if you and Nesta weren’t cooped up in the House of Wind together you doubted she’d even notice you. Perhaps you were reading too far into things, that the only reason you and her got close so quickly was because you were all each other had.

But you also couldn’t help but notice the little things about your interactions. How she had fallen asleep on your shoulder, when she was normally plagued by insomnia and nightmares. How she slept soundly through the night with you by her side, as if she felt safe in your presence. How she stood up for you so fiercely against Rhysand. The way she let you have the first plate of pancakes because she knew how much you loved them. Seeing her hard gaze soften ever so slightly at you when you ranted on about something you were excited about. Nesta appeared tense and cold around others, but there was a certain light she emitted when it was just you and her.

But what about Cassian? Whether you, or her, liked it or not, something had happened between them during the war. She had let him in, in some way, and clearly something else had gone down that caused her to shut him out. Yet you overheard them talking sometimes, and the sharp edge to her voice that she usually reserved for the Inner Circle was not entirely there.

None of this matters. You thought to yourself. It’s not the time or place. Nesta’s been through some shit and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or be too forward.

So your feelings for Nesta, whatever they were, you shoved aside for the time being. Taking a breath, you began to read the message from Azriel.

I spoke with the High Lord and Lady. They have agreed to pay you a salary for your services, provided you deliver. If you wish to accept the offer, meet me on the balcony at 7am tomorrow. Azriel.

You groaned at the thought of having to meet that early. Spying was something you did not know how to do, nor did you have a clue as to what its training entailed, but you supposed you were about to find out.

*********************

“You’re late.”

It took everything in you not to throw your mug at Azriel’s head. “It’s 7:01.” You snapped back, irritated from lack of sleep. Truthfully, you had spent most of last night worrying about what today would bring. Azriel unnerved you, his ability to get information from people was known to fae across all courts. You just prayed you didn’t slip up, although in your exhausted state you could promise nothing.

Azriel glared, visibly irritated. “And I told you to be here at 7.”

“I’m literally one minute late.”

“Time is important in this kind of work.”

“Oh get over yourself,” You hissed, sipping your hot tea to try and warm up. “I’m here aren’t I?”

The shadowsinger said nothing, just fixing you another hard glare. You finished the last of your tea, taking your sweet time as he watched you. Slowly, you placed the cup down on the table, satisfied you had already annoyed him.

“Alright,” You said finally, your voice laced with obvious fake cheer. “What am I learning how to do today, spymaster?”

“You’ll find out.” Was all he said before turning away from you. Without another word, the shadowsinger walked away towards the other end of the long balcony. Realizing you had no choice, you followed him.

The balcony wrapped around a corner of the House, turning into a stairwell that led down. The chilly morning air wasn’t the only thing giving you goosebumps – you had no idea where Azriel was taking you, as you had never been in this area of the House before.

“Where are we going?” You asked hesitantly. Azriel ignored you, leading you further down the stairs until you came to a large wooden door. He pressed the back of his hand onto the lock, blue siphon glowing at the contact. A soft click sounded, and the door swung open. The spymaster stepped aside, gesturing for you to go inside.

“Yeah no, you first.” You snorted, planting your feet firmly on the ground. Azriel rolled his eyes, but stepped into the dark room anyways.

As you and Azriel entered, torches from the walls began to light up and illuminate the space. Your jaw dropping to the floor was a genuine reaction to what you saw.

The room was absolutely massive, almost never ending. There were various obstacles across it – rope, nets, and wooden beams alike all carefully placed. There were mats in the center, and a vast array of gear and weapons strung up on the wall. It made your gut churn, surely you were not expected to take on all of this?

As if he could read your mind, Azriel spoke up. “Don’t worry, you won’t be using most of this stuff, it’s too advanced.”

“Then what am I doing here?” You gawked. If this was his weird personal training room, surely it wouldn’t be suitable for whatever he was teaching you.

“I cannot make you a trained spy in so little time,” Azriel said, walking over to the wall and grabbing something from a trunk. “But with a couple days of hard work, I can at least make sure your chances of getting caught are lessened. You need to be able to move unseen, and make a quick escape if need be. And how to defend yourself, or more if someone figures you out.”

Your throat dried up. “You mean how to kill someone and make it look like an accident?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper.

You didn’t even care to look at what Azriel had grabbed from the trunk, you felt numb as the realization of what you were doing kicked in. The fact the High Lord was willing to put you in this position–

“It’s a grave necessity,” Azriel’s voice cut off your thoughts. “Ideally, you will not have to kill anyone, nor defend yourself. But it’s a risk in this line of work, and it is my duty to prepare you for the worst case scenario. It is unpleasant, but necessary.”

“You want me to be prepared to kill someone from my own court.” Your chest felt hollow. Why did you agree to this?

Sensing your uneasiness, Azriel stepped closer. You felt a soft brush against your arm as one of his shadows reached out and brushed your skin as if to comfort you. “Believe me, that is not my wish,” He said. “I do not like it any more than you do. But if Tamlin finds out you are spying on him for us, it could lead to another war and more violence. He is unstable, and even if he doesn’t kill you immediately he will make sure to kill others for it. If one of his guards suspects something, you will have to take care of the problem. Preferably not with murder, but it is a last resort option if you need it.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Tamlin, as unstable as he might be, wouldn’t hurt you, especially after suffering the consequences of inflicting injury upon Feyre. You had known the High Lord since you were a child – one evening, your father had fallen ill during a meeting at the manor. He had brought you along with the intention of having you play in the stream with the children of other diplomats and sentries during the meeting to keep you occupied. He had gotten too sick to take you home, and it was too risky to send someone to take you both back to your village, lest they contract whatever illness your father had. While your father rested in his guest chamber, Tamlin had kept you entertained. He accompanied you as you wandered through the gardens, explaining what each flower was. He hoisted you up in the air so you could pick the ripest apple from the tree, laughing as you shook a branch that led to some other apples falling onto his head. He read you bedtime stories and tucked you in at night. The High Lord stayed by your side in the three days it took your father to be well enough to travel, and you had never forgotten that kindness. No matter what Feyre said about him, no matter what Tamlin did to her, you would always remember that side to him and hoped it was still there after Feyre had carved his heart out.

Azriel’s voice saying your name snapped you out of your memory.

“Sorry,” You mumbled. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

The spymaster straightened up, shadows returning to him. “Good. Now turn around.”

You blinked, noticing the piece of cloth in his scarred hands. “Tell me that isn’t a blindfold.” You snapped.

“It isn’t a blindfold.” He responded dryly.

“Yes it is. You lead me into a dark room and want to put a blindfold on me? Kinky.”

“Just do as you’re told.”

You rolled your eyes, but obliged. Again, if your younger self heard she was letting the Night Court’s spymaster blindfold her in a secret room, she’d shit bricks. Azriel stepped behind you, gently placing the black cloth over your eyes and securing it. “Is it too tight?”

“No.” You responded.

“Good. Now you’re going to walk towards the training mat. Step onto it and wait for my instructions.”

“I don’t know which direction it’s in, I can’t fucking see.”

You could practically feel Azriel rolling his eyes at you. “You saw it when you walked in,” He said shortly. “Remember what the room looked like and where you have moved since then. It’s part of the exercise.”

Gritting your teeth, you tried to picture the layout of the room. The training mat had been in the centre, and you had turned slightly to the left when Azriel went to the trunk. Slowly, you turned your body back in the way you were originally facing and began walking forward.

Each step was unsteady, unsure if you were going to trip over some weapon on the floor. You felt like a baby deer taking its first few steps.

“Trust your instincts,” Came Azriel’s voice. “We rely on our sight too much, so let your other senses do the work.”

Eventually, you found your way to the mat, slowly stepping up onto it. You were certain you had looked like an absolute fool doing so, but you made it.

Suddenly, a set of hands came out of nowhere and pushed you over hard. Your face collided with the mat ungracefully.

“What the fuck was that?” You snapped, cheeks red as you stumbled to get up.

“You should have heard me coming.” Azriel’s voice growled. “You were too focused on the mat you forgot your environment around you.”

Your face went red with anger. “Yeah because I got like, two seconds to glance at the room before you blindfolded me, asshole!”

Azriel snorted. “Two seconds is more than you’d sometimes get, but if you’re not serious about this then we can find something else for you to do.”

“No,” You protested. “I am serious about this. But I haven’t done anything like this before so could you maybe cut me some slack?”

You heard the shadowsinger scoff. A bit wobbly, you paced around in a circle, following Azriel’s footsteps as he walked around you. You began to feel dizzy, his shadows swirling in the air and disorienting you further.

You took a deep breath, anticipating his next move. You felt movement behind you, but before you could react something solid cracked against the back of your knees. With a yelp, you yet again found yourself on the ground, legs stinging.

“Not fast enough.” Came Azriel’s stern voice. “Up.”

You bit back a retort, tears beginning to swell. You hated how pathetic you felt, how humiliating it was to have the spymaster of the Night Court blindfold you and knock you to the ground twice as if you were a child. You wanted to give up, to scream at him that you didn’t want to do this, but you held back.

I’m doing this for Nesta, You realized. For myself, yes, but also for her. If I fail at my part of the plan, she’s stuck here too.

With newfound determination, you heaved yourself up off the ground, steadying your legs. Azriel made no comment, just continued to pace around you, letting his shadows confuse you. His footsteps echoed, making you unsure of where they truly were. So you took another deep breath and focused harder, letting your other fae senses take over and hone in one where the footsteps were strongest.

After a few minutes, you felt movement to your left. Quick as a rabbit, you stepped to the right, feeling whatever solid pole Azriel was using strike the air where your left arm had just been. It barely missed you, but did not find its mark.

“Better.” Azriel said. “Again.”

*********************

The next two weeks consisted of the same pattern. Wake up at the literal ass crack of dawn, train with Azriel until the early afternoon, and then spend the rest of your day reading. You had made surprisingly good progress, which Azriel begrudgingly admitted after you pressured him into it. You were able to avoid almost all of his strikes while blindfolded, navigate obstacle courses making minimal noise, and even managed to sneak in a smack to his pretty face during a sparring session.

He was going easy on you with the fighting, you weren’t stupid. He let you get that strike in, perhaps hoping it would boost your confidence and encourage you to do a good job in the Spring Court. You were thankful he hadn’t figured you out yet, but the thought of it still haunted you and twisted your gut with worry.

Nesta’s updates were continuing to come every few days. Apparently, Elain had come prying and it ended disastrously. You snorted at that, unsure of what good Elain thought would come out of visiting the sister whose belongings she shipped off. Cassian had taken Nesta to the river house to discuss Braillyn, the mortal queen. Nesta had written that she was after three Troves: a Mask, a Harp, and a Crown. That letter had been particularly long, detailing what they did and why she sought them, also explaining that Braillyn had made an alliance with Beron Vanserra. Oh, and Rhys essentially forced Nesta to try scrying by using the threat of poor delicate Elain having to do it.

That letter made your head spin. You sat in your room as you read it, contemplating all of what you just learned. Beron was in an alliance with the mortal queen, did that mean Eris was working against the Night Court? The thought delighted you, until you remembered what your village looked like as Hybern destroyed everyone in it. No matter how much you hated the Inner Circle, their citizens have done nothing to deserve such a fate. It would be up to you to figure out which side Eris was truly on if he was making visits to Spring.

You stuffed the letters under your bed sheet, fingers searching for the slit you had carved into your mattress. You knew it would be smarter to just burn them, but you couldn’t bring yourself too. It had been weeks since you had seen more than a fleeting glance of Nesta, and your heart ached. You couldn’t bring yourself to destroy something she had touched and created for you.

A few hours ago, Azriel had informed you that you were going to the Spring Court tomorrow. You had scrawled a note to Nesta rapidly, hands shaking slightly. It had been months since you had been in Spring – you had not yet figured out how to explain your absence to Tamlin, if he even noticed.

I’m being sent to the Spring Court tomorrow morning. I don’t know how we will stay in touch, but I’ll be thinking of you. We’ll find a way.

Later that night, another knock sounded at your door. Confused, you stood up – surely the details of tomorrow’s meeting with the Inner Circle before your departure hadn’t changed? You trudged over to the door, ready to snap at Azriel for disturbing you so late. Only it was not Azriel who stood at the door.

It was Nesta.

You barely had time to acknowledge her standing there before she practically ran into the room, closing the door behind her.

“Nesta, what the hell are you–” You hissed, ready to snap at her for being so reckless after weeks of trying to convince Azriel that you were on the Night Court’s side and still fighting with Nesta.

“I found a way,” She interrupted, breathless and eyes glowing with determination. “A way for us to stay in contact.”

You blinked, dumbstruck. You had assumed that you wouldn’t hear from her while in Spring, unable to think of how to get letters to her discreetly. “How?” You asked.

“There’s a spell,” She said, grabbing the book in her hands and flipping through the pages. “It’s like the bargain spells the fae make, but slightly different. It’s old as shit and technically was the wedding vow of some ancient goddess, but it should work. If I’m right, and if we say it correctly, we’ll be able to communicate like it, sort of like Feyre and Rhysand do with their daemati abilities.”

You took a look at the female in front of you. She had gained weight, looking more muscular than before – her collarbones no longer jutted out, and her hair had more shine to it. She truly looked beautiful, you thought.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to do the spell?” Nesta interrupted your thoughts, lips twitching upwards.

“I’m just so happy to see you.” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Nest said. “But I can’t stay long, it’s already risky enough taking the time to do this. It’s now or never.”

You nodded, and the Archeron sister grabbed your hands in hers. Her hands were cold, but firm as she brought up your joined hands and took a step closer. And another. You held your breath as she stood so close that her knuckles brushed your sternum, and yours against hers. And then she began to speak, in a voice so low and ethereal it could have belonged to the Mother herself,

I bind myself to you, In flesh and in mind, I am yours, and you are mine, until the stars take their last breath, and world collapses beneath our feet, our ghosts whispering in the wind, soon we shall meet.

A sensation as hot as fire and cold as ice spread from your joined hands onto your chest. You couldn’t pull away, like an invisible force kept you still as it felt like a hole was being burned into your sternum. The two of you gritted your teeth, sighing when it finally passed.

You peered down your shirt, half expecting to see a gaping hole. Instead, a glowing silver star had appeared between your breasts on your sternum. It was an eight pointed star, the four vertical and horizontal points larger than the smaller diagonal ones. Eight rays stemmed from the space between each point, and there was a small circle in the centre with lines connecting to each peak of the biggest points from within. It was beautiful, you had to admit.

“Will it always glow?” You breathed, still in awe at the magic you had just witnessed. You and Nesta were now binded with an ancient spell, and the seriousness of that finally hit you.

“No,” She replied, also panting. “Only when the other is in danger. If you say ‘evanescere’, it will fade until you command it to reappear.”

At the ancient word being mentioned, the glowing stars from your sternums faded, along with the tattoo.

“It is still there and so is its magic,” Nesta continued. “But we can hide it just in case.”

You nodded, still reeling. You and Nesta now had a way to communicate with each other – it would take some time to figure out how it fully worked, but knowing you wouldn’t be entirely alone made you happy. “Does this mean we’re technically married?” You joked. “Since we used some ancient wedding vow for the spell?”

Nesta laughed. “It holds no legitimacy as a vow,” She explained. “It was more of a declaration laced with magic to help her communicate with her wife without being daemati. If we can use it that way too, we won’t need to risk sending letters.”

“Nesta Archeron you’re a genius.”

The two of you stayed there for a few minutes, hands entwined just staring at each other. Even though you knew you would probably be safe in Spring, you could not help but gaze at her features and trying to memorize them in case you never saw her again.

Tensing, Nesta let go of you. She straightened herself up, blinking once. “Alright then. Good luck in Spring. Let me know how it goes.”

Your heart ached a little as she turned to leave. You wanted to beg her to stay, but knew it would ruin your plan. However, Nesta paused before her hand could touch the door handle.

“Nesta?” You asked hesitantly when she did not open the door.

“Fuck it.” The female mumbled, turning around and rapidly walking back over to you. Before you could ask what she was doing, Nesta grabbed your face in her hands and crashed her lips into yours.

You staggered back at the passion of it, melting into her mouth – she tasted like cinnamon and honey, and you almost moaned in happiness. You gently placed your hands on her waist, squeezing slightly as she continued to kiss you like it was the end of the world.

Nesta Archeron was kissing you. Holy fuck.

It felt like both ages and seconds at the same time when Nesta’s lips left yours. Her hands remained cupping your face, and worry crossed her features as if she was afraid she had done something wrong.

“Nesta,” You breathed quickly before she could shut down on you. “I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I’ll miss you too.” She muttered, but did not pull away out of regret like you feared. Rather, she stroked your cheek slightly with her left thumb. “Be safe.”

As quick as she came, Nesta Archeron was gone. And you didn’t know when you’d see her again.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful  @younxii​

please let me know your thoughts!

[imogenleewriter]

Hi! I'm reading your PA fic and it's amazing, I was wondering if you had some other famous/non famous AU that you love?

Hey, I'm so glad you like it!! I can definitely rec some - most are pretty well-known but hopefully, there is something you haven't read. I've recced some of these ones before when I did a favourites post. Ordered from longest to shortest. (All the below summaries are ones I have written, and I promise the fics are much better written than my summaries)

Empty Skies (WC: 134k)- by green_feelings (@greenfeelings) Famous Louis/Non-Famous Harry. Louis Tomlinson is 1/3 of the biggest boyband in the World, and all he had to do to get in there was go against everything he believed in. Harry Styles dreams of being a Musician, and after three years of putting it off while he deals with his own anguish, he is determined to give it a shot. Not only are their futures intertwined, so are their pasts.

got the sunshine on my shoulders (WC 124k)- by hattalove (@hattalove) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Exes-to-Lovers. Harry left his small hometown to become a recording artist. He is rich, famous, and when his boyfriend proposes, he knows he has everything he has ever wanted. Plus one thing he doesn't want - a husband who keeps returning unsigned divorce papers.

California Sold (WC:123k)- by isthatyoularry (@isthatyoularry). Famous Harry Styles/Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson. Friends to lovers. Fake Dating. Harry Styles is at risk of being outed. So, as we've come to expect, management is struck with an ingenious plan; Stunting! With! A! Female! Which makes sense because history shows it always works out so well. Anyway, shocker: it doesn't. Harry's best friend, Louis, has to intervene and get's papped with Harry. So, maybe it works out well, after all.

Our Lives, Non-Fiction (WC 113k)- by indiaalphawhiskey (@indiaalphawhiskey) Famous Louis/Less Famous* Harry Marcel Styles. Enemies to lovers. Marcel Styles' is a newly published fanfiction** writer (love that for him) who finds out Louis Tomlinson is joining him for his UK book The Louis Tomlinson. The one that Marcel had spent the same amount of time reading and re-reading his debut novel as he did staring at Louis' photo on the cover***. His fantasies about meeting and touring with his idol come crumbling down after their first encounter when Louis proves himself to be an arsehole. Marcel concedes that the entire tour is going to be a nightmare... until Louis proves that writing isn't the only thing he is a master at. *It's arguable that Harry is less-famous, just different kinds of fame. **Technically original online fiction - but he also wrote fanfiction, so it counts. *** I may have taken some creative liberties with that one.

Tired Tired Sea (WC:113k) - by MediaWhore (@mediawhorefics) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. Harry needs some solitude... so much solitude that he finds one of the most remote seaside villages he can find. He wanted to go somewhere where no one would know his name, and he got that wish. Turns out that maybe he should have been wishing for the owner of the BNB and his dog, Clifford, instead.

My English Love Affair (WC: 19k) - by isthatyoularry (@isthatyoularry). (This is the stupidest summary ever and only like 3 people will get it, and I'm not going to explain it any further. I apologise). Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Out Of All the Gin Joints In All The World Louis and Harry met at the same one. The Only Reason they Ended Up Here was because they Wasted The Night Danceing Dance, and Stayin' Out All Night. After A Little Less Sixteen Candles, (and) A Little More "Touch Me", Louis became Harry's My English Love Affair. Louis thinks that he I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy Famous, and All I He got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me Him. It was definitely not his Favourite Record because Harry has No Shame and his My Songs Knows What You He Did In The Dark. Even though Harry isn't American Made he acts like Mrs All America and has mastered the Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances. Louis expects their romance to be Short, Fast and Loud but His My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon. It's not his fault that Harry is Irresistible and She Looks So Perfect. It's Easier to say " Kiss Me, Kiss Me" and "I Don't Care" than Everything He I Didn't Say. After spending a Golden two weeks Alone Together, Louis thought they were So Good Right Now, not know it was the Calm Before The Storm. Harry decided to Fly Away on a Permanent Vacation leading to The Mighty Fall without even saying 'Thnks Fr Th Mmrs". Louis realised that Harry was The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes and became a Complete Mess. He wished he had Novacaine or Amnesia and questioned The Pros and Cons of Breathing. Harry had to accept that The Worlds Not Waiting and even though he was Miss Miss Missing You Harry, he chose to ignore Bad Omens. In the end there was Heartache On The Big Screen, and they both said "I Want You Back, so Take My Hand". XO

This is a Rainbow War (WC: 15k) - by Lululawrence (@lululawrence) Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. When Louis is hired as part of Harry Styles' road crew, Harry gives him what seems like a very simple project. Louis, never one to do things by half-measures, turns it into a war. He didn't realise he'd end up fighting for Harry's heart.

(okay, that one was cheesy, I apologise)

Feel Your Way (WC: 3k) - by kingsofeverything (@kingsofeverything). Famous Harry/Non-Famous Louis. Strangers to lovers. Louis doesn't care much for or about celebrities, and for the longest time, Harry Styles was just a name he heard from time to time. That was until he stumbled across a photo of Harry that caused him to moan Harry's name every night. One night, he doesn't need to rely on his hand and Harry's photo to help him come because Harry's there to do it for him, bearing Louis' favourite assets.

(So this one snuck its way here because it's so good... but the Famous/Non-Famous trope isn't the main focus of it. Hiddies are)

[iltuoangelodifiducia]

Mirti’s favourite Good Omens fics

Hello hello hello! I’ve been reading lots of fics recently, and I’ve decided to share here some of my favourite ones ♡

Canonverse

Through the years

✧ Mean It by Fyre [one-shot, 1991 words, rated G]

In 1650, a little tradition was born.

✧ Technicalities by curtaincall [one-shot, 1610 words, rated M]

Aziraphale is always very careful with his wording. Crowley's never really been in a position to question it.

Post Season 1

✧ When all of the stars in the sky align by gallantrejoinder [3 chapters, 9k words, completed, rated G]

It was approximately three years after the apoca-wasn’t that Crowley fell into a baptismal font.

It was extremely uncool of him to do so, and years afterwards, he would deny that it had happened like that. All right, maybe he still had trouble with the whole owning four limbs thing after all the years of snakehood - still, that didn’t make him clumsy.

But the point remained. Crowley fell into a literal vat of holy water.

And survived.

✧ Wrong Turn by anticyclone and D20Owlbear [10 chapters, 37k words, completed, rated T]

Lots and lots of somethings are wrong. First, Crowley's nearly hit by a car. Then he almost brains himself tripping over new and excessive piles of books at the bookshop. To add insult to near-injury, Aziraphale starts throwing knives at him. Safe to say his day could be going better.

The thing that's the most wrong of all is the universe, of course. In this one there was never an Arrangement. Aziraphale and Anthony (they can't both be 'Crowley') aren't friends and they certainly never agreed to prep for Armageddon. Unfortunately, the end of the world is two days away.

So that's something Crowley really has to fix before they can figure out how to get him home.

✧ Temporary Tattoo by cyankelpie [6 chapters, 9k words, completed, rated G]

Crowley’s snake tattoo goes on a little adventure and visits Aziraphale. Crowley doesn’t notice it’s missing until halfway to their next assignment, by which time their only option is to write to Aziraphale and ask him to keep the snake safe until Crowley returns.

They wish they’d thought to mention that they can still feel every touch to the snake, but how could they have known how affectionate Aziraphale would be with it?

✧ It's a new craze by attheborder [one shot, 5k words, rated T]

CROWLEY: I try not to make a habit of gratitude, but I must give our appreciation to everyone out there who’s been listening and subscribing to The Ineffable Plan.

AZIRAPHALE: Ooh, yes, we’ve become quite popular, haven’t we?

CROWLEY: Yeah, just hit number eight on the advice charts … No advertising at all.

AZIRAPHALE: Mm. How … miraculous.

CROWLEY: … Aziraphale. You did not.

Crowley and Aziraphale are very possibly the people least qualified, on the entire planet, to start up an advice podcast. But what else is there to do when the world isn’t ending anytime soon, you’re technically on indefinite sabbatical from your lifelong careers, and you need a plausible excuse to spend more time with your best friend who you’re definitely not, absolutely not, maybe just a little, actually maybe overwhelmingly in love with?

✧ I am just the (new invention) by littlesnowpea [one-shot, 7k words, rated T]

A list of hobbies Crowley has picked up over the past 6000 years: gardening, cooking, fashion, pining for Aziraphale, making YouTube videos

A list of hobbies Aziraphale has picked up over the past 6000 years: reading, book restoration, music, pining for Crowley, commenting on Crowley’s YouTube videos

When Aziraphale starts giving Crowley flowers, Crowley takes to his YouTube channel to discuss the meaning behind it, where Aziraphale comments encouragement to confess his feelings – under an alias, of course. There is absolutely no way any of this could ever go wrong.

✧ Heavenly Dues by IneffableDoll [one-shot, 2074 words, rated G]

Months after Armageddon, Heaven still receives receipts detailing Aziraphale’s daily miracle usage. Michael makes the mistake of checking them one idle day.

OR

Aziraphale reheats a lot of tea and admires his demon, scandalizing an archangel in the process.

Post Season 2

✧ Shinin' down like water by contritecactite [one-shot, 2163 words, rated T]

He's always been late, himself, so perhaps it's not surprising that he finds himself in this situation: politely avoiding eye contact with the Voice of the Almighty on an interminable ride in a flawless white lift. Well, not so flawless after all; there's a scuff mark in one corner that looks just a bit like a snake, if he squints. Yes, in fact—just like the kind Crowley used to leave behind in casual acts of vandalism in the places they visited. Stone walls, sidewalks, picnic tables, bar tops—there must be thousands around the world by now, little breadcrumbs, proof of Crowley's existence.

✧ You Can't Take It With You by curtaincall [one-shot, 1377 words, rated M]

Celestial Lift Maintenance Technician is an easy job. Or it was, until Aziraphale took over as Supreme Archangel. With everyone heading back and forth from Earth all the time, Alex’s gig has become a lot more demanding.

And, weirdly, also a lot…stickier?

Outsider POV

✧ Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian [one-shot, 3027 words, rated G]

What are you supposed to do when you've been fired from your sweet job in Hell for thwarting the schemes of Satan, you've got a swanky flat in Mayfair, and you're looking for an excuse to spend all your time in someone else's bookshop? Obviously, you turn to the dubious world of short-term vacation rentals.

The resulting Airbnb property has been variously described as "an instagram trap," "a vampire den but make it botanical," and "the weirdest bed and breakfast in the shared history of beds and breakfasting."

✧ I live next door to a haunted bookshop owned by an immortal cryptid bastard. AMA! by kyaticlikestea [one-shot, 6k words, rated T]

Before anyone reports this post, I got this AMA authorised by posting proof to a mod, so there.

Hi, Reddit! I’m no-one special, but about 6 months ago, I moved into a flat above a cafe next door to a bookshop, and my life has never been the same since, because the man who runs the bookshop is some sort of ageless (mostly) benevolent eldritch being. By all accounts, he hasn’t aged a day since at least 1944, sometimes he seems to have just too many eyes, and I once saw him turn water into wine (a nice rosé). His coworker / best friend / boyfriend / shadow entity is also definitely some kind of cryptid, but despite trying harder to be a bastard, he’s somehow less successful at it.

So, if you have any questions about what it’s like to live next door to an eternal bastard man, AMA!

Canon divergence

✧ Living Proof by theinkwell33 [one-shot, 6k words, rated G]

Due to a Huge Misunderstanding when they first meet, Crowley spends the next six thousand years thinking Aziraphale is a demon, and Aziraphale thinks Crowley is an angel. By the time they figure out the truth, they've only got eleven years left until the end of the world.

Alternately, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley are enemies, but neither of them ever got the memo.

AUs

✧ My Immortal Beloved by Fyre [one-shot, 3666 words, rated T]

A couple of centuries ago, Crowley had a Thing with an average normal human. Only for some reason, every letter he ever sent to that average normal human has just turned up in a museum exhibit. Including the ones about licking.

✧ With you, with me by NohaIjiachi [6 chapters, 41k words, completed, rated T, priest Aziraphale and demon Crowley ;) ]

“Oh, shit,” Crowley muttered, but it came out more like ‘ohkjfd—‘

The man— A bloody priest was still keeping his umbrella over Crowley. The fabric of his button-up had darkened on his shoulders, now throughly drenched.

He could see more details, now, and Crowley stared. The priest had round, gentle features, and a shock of hair so blond it looked white collected in messy, soft curls. There was some sense of deep-sedated sadness in his grey-blue eyes, as he looked down at Crowley.

“I’d imagine that you need to get back up on your feet, then, son,” the priest said, sounding somehow tired. “You can’t stay here.”

“…I have nowhere to go,” Crowley replied, feeling like his tongue was double in size in his mouth. It was a lie, and wasn’t one at the same time.

He could technically go anywhere he wanted, as long as the Bentley stopped pouting at him for getting high again, but he had nowhere to go.

[cutestkilla]

Fic Rec Wednesday

Hey hey! So while I actually am hard at work on CO content for the Picture Book Project (several illustrations of the gang in third year for @captain-aralias’ amazing take on Simon Snow and the Third Gate), I have nothing that’s really ready for main in terms of sharing. Thanks to everyone who continues to tag me over these past weeks (I tag you all back under the cut for today, or Sunday or to share your own fic recs)! I do love to see what you all are working on even when I have nothing shareable.

I thought I might do a little fic rec post today instead, dedicated to one-shots that were posted in the mad rush of December that I love and think are a little underappreciated. There’s such a flood of amazing content during COC that it’s hard to keep up, and then once we move on to January, there’s still new amazing content coming out. As a result there are some real gems that folks may have missed out on. And so, here is a short (no doubt incomplete because I myself am still catching up) list of my fave hidden gems from December 2022.

And We Still Do by @facewithoutheart (T, 8K)

This is the fic that inspired me to write this post, actually, because I was discussing it with @facewithoutheart earlier and saying I can’t believe more folks haven’t read it. Anyway, it’s so great! The story includes a bunch of AU meet-cutes/meet-uglys framed by post-SFC Simon and Baz being fluffy and cute, with a bonus ACTUAL first time they met via the crucible. Each AU is a great little one-shot in itself and to quote the comment I left on AO3, “I loved them all, I would read a full fic of literally ANY of these”. (That is not actually a direct quote because I appear to have misspelled the word “would” somehow, but I digress.) You get post-canon fluff, a Boy Band AU, a Royalty AU, a couple of really neat canon-divergence AUs, and a combo Coffee Shop/Sci Fi AU all rolled into one, with amazing results. I think it’s brilliant like everything that comes from Christina’s mind and everyone should check it out.

Baby It’s Cold by @larkral (T, 2.6K)

This is a post-canon story told through a series of vignettes with Simon helping Baz accept something (something cold, maybe?) about himself in a really cute and creative way. It’s just really sweet, the prose is lovely as one knows to expect from this author, it gave me the warm fuzzies in a major way and guess what else? IT COMES WITH 3D LEGO ART. It’s short and sweet so you have no excuse not to check this one out folks.

Nice Spread by @messofthejess (T, 1.2K)

Post-canon Brobelove! The age old mystery of whether tea actually can be served on Niamh’s thighs is solved! And just generally this is packed with excellent banter, excellent novelty mugs and excellent tea puns. Very fun!

Another Way We Match by @thewholelemon (M, 1.7K)

Gotta include some spice, amirite? This one is post-canon and packed with great dialogue and banter that pays homage to some of my favourite fanworks (This Will All Go Down in Flames by @facewithoutheart, Monsterfucker, Baby by @sillyunicorn and Property of Tyrannus by @starwarned and @seducing-a-vampire, to be specific) in the funnest way. Simon and Baz are doing sexy roleplay! Only all of Simon’s suggestions are causing Baz eye-rolling injuries. Really hilarious, sexy and also with the perfect amount of domestic fluff mixed in. I love me a sex scene full of funny dialogue and awkward moments, and this sure fits the bill.

I could go on and on with this list, only I’m supposed to be working instead of writing this post, so I’ll stop here for now. Hope you all check these out!

Tags: @alleycat0306 @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @basiltonbutliketheherb @blackberrysummerblog @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @forabeatofadrum @frjsti @hushed-chorus @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @johnwgrey @larkral  @martsonmars @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @shrekgogurt @stitchyqueer @takitalks @tea-brigade @technetiumai @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather @you-remind-me-of-the-babe                             

[writingfics-passingtime]

Song: Fahrenheit - Azee

With Marc Spector x fem reader

(I think this may fit well with the Outlaw fic 👀)

Lovely anon, thank you for this request! Definitely feels like Outlaw and that tough-guy reader, and I had fun writing that type of reader character again.

I completely failed at writing something drabble-length but my house, my rules to break. The urge to turn this into such a long fic was and is so fucking strong… sorry for how I left this one 😅 I hope you like it 💜

Compromise

This one-shot is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song prompt: Fahrenheit

Pairing: Marc Spector x female reader

Words: 2450

CWs: Some swearing, mentions of violence

There’s a light on in an upstairs window.

A shadow ebbing through the soft warm glow tells Marc that it wasn’t left on by mistake; there’s someone else inside. But another intruder wouldn’t have turned a light on, unless they were dead stupid, so whoever’s inside is allowed to be.

He’ll have to be careful.

It’s a little past two in the morning when Marc sticks a pick into the keyhole of a maintenance entrance and enters the great stone building. As to be expected in this old library, no alarm or security camera pings the signal detector on his watch. He relaxes, still keeping his steps quiet, and hopes that this strange directive from Khonshu would remain simply strange and not complicated.

“Why do you need me to steal an old book?”

“It’s not a book in the way your human mind is limited to understand,” Khonshu explained. Marc didn’t pretend to look interested or unbothered, but some secret place found relief in the lack the command to end another evil life.

“The Ennead Codex contains matters of great importance, and it is in danger of falling into the hands of those who wish to access the underworld.”

Whatever that means, Marc thought. He didn’t question it further. Really, he didn’t care all that much. It was just another task from his master.

Without many more words, Khonshu told Marc where the sacred manuscripts had been hidden for the past several decades. They’d been moved to this seemingly insignificant library in a small town.

Hidden in plain sight.

As Marc lifts a brass handle and slips through a dark walnut door into the main chambers of the library, he doesn’t bother donning the suit. He’d probably slip in and out undetected, harnessing his years of covert ops.

For a small town, the room is towering and impressive and beautiful. Filtered through a expanse of glass in the ceiling, moonlight casts its judgement across the carved stone pillars of the rotunda. Patches of dark blue carpet are dimly aglow with the help of the night sky, until Marc casts his own shadow across them.

He walks past the circular desk that sits in the dead centre of the room, now having clocked the sign for the Reference section where Khonshu said the Codex may be hidden.

The shelves are shrouded in darkness as he approaches and searches for the number “202.” He doesn’t get very far before the hairs on the back of his neck pique his fight or flight.

His right hand meets the gun at his side, pointer finger itching to meet the strength of the trigger, and a small clicking noise on the other side of the room sends him slipping behind a pillar.

He waits, listens, tries to discern where the sound came from. Footsteps. Coming towards the centre of the room.

Towards him.

Marc slows his breathing to keep it quiet. He wonders if the other presence in the library can sense him in the way he could sense them. Sure, years of tactical training hone the senses, but there’s also a distinct human instinct that tells someone when they’re not alone. He swallows hard when he remembers that it’s possible this other presence is not human.

“I know you’re in here,” a voice echoes through the aisles and up to the ceiling. Sounds human enough. She doesn’t sound afraid so she probably has a weapon. Marc tightens his grip on the gun, readying to draw.

“Come on out,” you command, sounding a little impatient.

You don’t declare a weapon. He doesn’t hear the safety of a pistol disengage, or the cocking of a shotgun, so he emerges from the shadows with a hand on his holstered gun.

You look sharp and powerful, standing in the centre of the room. Empty hands hang by your side - no visible weapon - you tilt your head, intrigued when you see the intruder. The light of the early morning moon chisels harshly against your features, projecting something familiar and severe towards the man who’d broken in.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is accusing. You take a step towards him, head lowering to show him an unwavering, disarming stare. There’s a flicker of hostility and a glint of gold in your eyes that numbs his tongue just long enough to be too long. “English?” You stop walking and set your jaw. You look like a normal person.

“Yeah, English,” Marc finds his words and quickly assesses you, your stance, the outline of your body. There’s no bulkiness to your clothing, there’s no tension that gives away a readiness to strike; you’re no threat to him. There’s time to grab the book and get out before the small-town cops arrived.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. No one needs to get hurt.” He says it as he turns away from you and you immediately call out after him.

“I won’t let you take it.”

He turns back and narrows his eyes in question.

“I know what you’re here for,” your fingers begin to curl into fists, your chest rises with a breath of preparation. “You need to leave. Now.”

Marc’s eyes flick to your growing battle posture, and he begins to summons the suit.

The exhales of the old pages lining the bookshelves glitter dust through the streams of moonlight. The same moonlight from which Khonshu’s vessel draws the power he begins to feel pulsing through his fingertips, through his chest and the back of his head. He lowers the hand from his gun and looks you dead in the eye. Marc sees another glimmer of gold. It was so fast, if he’d been blinking he’d have missed it. He juts his chin in challenge. “Who are you?”

“Leave,” is your only answer. “I won’t tell you again.”

The room fills with a gentle thundering the second your hands close into fists. Books, across every shelf, buzz with a strange power. The light fixtures are barely swinging, there’s no dust falling from the ceilings, but the shelves are alive with a ferocity you held. No more time to waste.

Lunar silver fills Marc’s vision as the sacred suit fixes tightly around him. He can’t leave here without that Codex. He’s fully prepared to fight you for it.

He positions himself into a stance ready to defend and to attack, watching with bated breath as you see his suit take place. The moment the ceremonial garb fits the last swath to Marc’s skin, you raise your fists.

The room falls quiet. The books fall still.

Marc waits, he listens, he watches as you determine he’s a bigger threat than you’d thought. It looks like you’re bleeding energy to hold your fists above your head, like you’re holding great power. Then, he notices the stream of moonlight begin to dilute. A warm, golden light begins emanating from the bookshelves. From the books themselves.

In a move too swift to predict, you draw your arms down towards your chest and fall to one knee.

A thread of light shoots from what looks to be every page in the room, blasting towards you before he has the chance to blink. Marc has to shield his eyes and again duck behind the pillar to protect himself from a glare so bright he was sure it rivalled the sun’s surface. It’s overpowering, debilitating, even through his tightly shut eyes, he throws his face against the crook of his elbow until he can sense the light begin to wane.

He emerges from the pillar fully prepared to attack, but stops in his tracks when he sees you rise to your feet.

You had transformed.

In a way that was all too familiar.

Golden cuffs circle your wrists, upper arms, your collar adorned with twists of gold and ivory. The breastplate of your armour is blanched leather bordered in the bones of an ancient being. A white cloth drapes around your waist, falling halfway down your legs. Your shins are wrapped in the same cloth, down to where your ankles are cuffed in gold above your bare feet.

Marc hold up his hands in surrender when he eyes the long golden staff in your white-knuckled grip. Not because he thought he couldn’t win, but because it looked like something he’d seen before. “I think we’re on the same side here.”

You smirk, scoff through your nose and point the staff at him. “Anyone attempting to steal the Ennead Codex is on no side of ours.”

“I’m not trying to steal it,” Marc drops the hood and lets the cloth peel back from his face. To show you his eyes in an appeal for trust. You didn’t waver. “I was sent to retrieve it.”

A raised eyebrow tells Marc that, to you, it’s the same fucking thing.

He holds his breath and asks, “Who do you serve?”

He watches you examine him. His suit. He watches as you realise you have a lot more in common than you’d care to admit; somehow, somewhere along the way, your lives ended up in the hands of beings too powerful to comprehend.

You don’t lower your staff as you say, with pride and strength in your voice, “I am the Scribe of Seshat. Tasked with protecting the Ennead Codex, and any knowledge those would seek out to use for destruction.” Marc takes a step forward and you don’t like that. With a single nod up, you counter, “Your turn.” Your grip on the hook-ended staff tightens. He doesn’t flinch.

“I am the Fist of Khonshu. Tasked with protecting travellers of the night.” He only stops when he’s a step away from the end of your staff. “Khonshu sent me to retrieve the Codex.”

You pull the sharp hook away, planting the lower end back on the floor beside your feet, and the books thunder for half a second. Again, Marc doesn’t flinch.

After several moments of tense, insular processing, you fix your eyes on a shelf behind your intruder and you begin to look nervous. “Seshat said this day would come.” You then meet his eye with an openness he hadn’t expected. “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”

“Seshat doesn’t sit on the Ennead Council,” Marc subtly probes, keenly watching the way you’d react.

“No,” you confirm. “Never wants to. The only reason she has an Avatar is to keep them at bay. Seshat wants nothing to do with the Council…” you begin to walk past him, pausing at his side to add, “Especially Khonshu.”

You keep walking so Marc turns his body towards you, and don’t tell him to stay or back off so he follows as you enter the darkened rows.

Your barefooted steps are automatic and confident, carrying you to near the end of a nondescript shelf of reference material. After a moment of pause, reverence, and reflection, you place your hand on the spine of a thick book and chant a few words under your breath. It glows gold for a moment before changing appearance and sliding out into your hand.

Marc watches you caress the edges of the pages and look at the Ennead Codex as if it were something you truly cared for. Truly believed in.

He holds out a hand and promises, “I won’t let anything happen to it.”

Your head snaps towards him and he sees a startling intensity in your eye, along with those flecks of gold. “I know you won’t,” you start, “because the Codex isn’t leaving my sight.” Marc opens his mouth to protest but your protective grip tightens and you set your jaw. “I am the keeper of this Codex. I go where it goes.”

Marc shakes his head once. “Not gonna happen.”

“It’s not up for debate.”

“Don’t make me take it from you.”

A new low rumbling begins all around. Your eyes don’t leave each other as a smirk peaks into the corner of your mouth. “A sliver of waning moonlight versus a roomful of knowledge… do you like your chances against me in my domain, Moon Knight?”

Marc’s stomach lurches, though he gives no outward indication. Moon Knight. He didn’t tell you that name.

Your eyes burn gold, brightening every moment you build the power you’re pulling from the sources around you. Marc bites his tongue and assesses the situation as the library fills with the show of the ancient being you carry the mark of.

Marc arrives at the conclusion that, if you are indeed a vessel for Seshat, fighting you here would be a losing battle. He has no advantage. So, like a good Marine, he knows when to call the retreat. He knows when to compromise, and he does so with a gentle lift of his hands in surrender.

Your eyes return to normal, the books stop readying themselves for battle, and you brush past him with the Codex in your hands. He turns, recovering quickly, and starts after you. “How d’you-”

“Know that name?” You suddenly stop and turn. Marc’s body almost crashes against yours but he stops on a dime and plants one foot behind him, giving you two at least a little bit of personal space. You look him up and down before levelling him with a single look. “How do I, Avatar of the great Goddess of Wisdom and Knowledge, the goddess who invented writing and record-keeping… how do I know who you are?”

Your rhetorical question hangs in the air like the smirk lingers on your lips. After a few moments, Marc nods and sticks his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “We’ll go together to Khonshu, then go our separate ways.”

After, in silence, you reminisce on what Seshat had told you about this day that would come, you nod. “Fine. But if you try to take this from me, I’m gone.”

He gestures around and tries to look unimpressed. “Do you need to do a little light show to change outfits or…?”

He drops the suit in a matter of seconds, before showing a forced and sarcastic smile. Without breaking eye contact, your own garb seamlessly transforms back into the simple clothes you’d been wearing when you first walked in. Your height lifts by an inch when the sneakers finally form around your feet, and you don’t waste a second to turn and begin walking back towards the door from which you and Marc both came. “Keep up, Moon Boy.”

Marc huffs a low grunt, takes a deep breath to ground himself, and sets his jaw before following after you.

This was supposed to be a simple in-and-out, not a full-on extraction. He was here for the Codex, and now that you’ll be leaving your power source he’ll have to look after you until gods know when.

U.S. Marine to glorified fuckin’ babysitter…

Khonshu owes him. Big time.