#what WAS in that magic bath water indeed

[sarcasticbeanie]

hm. is this anything.

[earlgreydream]

His. | Loki x reader smut

I finally the Loki tv show… this does NOT have any spoilers, it’s set on Asgard with a newly appointed king and his coronation gift…

cw: d/s

“Leave any traces of fear in this room.” The command was clear, spoken sharply by a royal attendant.

Your gaze didn’t leave the fragrant water of the bath you knelt in, the attendant taking care to wash every inch of your skin. Other women pulled fluttering silks from a wardrobe, lying it out for you and finding jewelry to match. So much led to this moment, and yet it didn’t seem real — anticipation and anxiety buzzing in your head. You’d been told once already to contain the obvious fear that lingered in your chest, but the daunting task of doing so seemed impossible when your fate was waiting on a silver platter, the moment you left the private chamber you were being bathed in.

“Come, out of the water before your skin wrinkles,” you were hauled to your feet, wrapped in towels and rubbed down by several girls with movements so quick, you were barely left time to react.

Hands massaged your tense limbs, covering them in oils that bloomed with exotic scents, leaving your skin gleaming. At the same time, your hair was fixed, emeralds — his favorite — twisted into the locks and fastening to bare your neck.

“It’s customary to dress her in white,” a handmaiden spoke of you as if you were not there.

“The prince prefers black.” The will of your all-powerful god silenced any protest, everyone moving to do his bidding.

The women fretted — you had to be perfect for him. They prepared you to be presented to the god, as a divine gift to honor the crown prince of Asgard. You were bathed, decorated, and dressed, all to please the god you were gifted to, an expectation that you’d been bred for. It was a great honor to be taken from the hills, to the castle of the gods, to walk amongst the divine, even if it meant your role was to do as your master saw fit, obeying every command. You had come to terms with it, knowing that upon prince Loki’s rise to the throne, you were the sacrifice — the gift — of the kingdom, a promise of good fortune and favor granted in return.

It all seemed like a far-away, distant dream in a future that would never come. Despite that, here you were, relinquishing your whole self to Asgard’s throne. You had never met the god, and never seen him up close. Of course you’d heard the stories, the wrath and prowess of the young prince, and even seen him from a distance — but being in his presence was something entirely new, before being expected to spend the rest of time at his mercy.

Asgardian silk draped over your skin, so light you wouldn’t know it was there. Your decency was concealed beneath expensive black fabric, hiding what was only meant for Loki to see in the moments after this. The handmaidens’ fussing finally ceased, ending the long evening of preparation.

“Come with me, and do as you’re told,” the woman in charge ushered you forward, opening the chamber doors, releasing you out of known captivity into unpredictability.

You swallowed the fear in your throat, steps silent as you followed her to the throne room, the festivities growing louder as you approached your fate. Before you were given a moment to hesitate, you were led into the cavernous room of gold and heavenly magic.

All at once, it fell silent as soldiers escorted you to the throne. There he was — the god himself, draped over his golden throne. Loki was the only one adorned finer than you, a golden helm atop his onyx waves, wild cerulean eyes that bore straight into your soul.

“Your majesty, a gift in exchange for your benevolence,” the ceremony’s representative from your kingdom presented you to Loki, a hand on your shoulder forcing you to kneel before the throne.

A dangerous smile curved the god’s lips, placing his scepter aside as he rose to his feet.

“A very generous gift indeed,” Loki’s lyrical voice wrapped around your throat, stealing the air from your lungs.

He was impossibly tall and lean as he approached you, toned muscles visible even through the heavy layers of leather and gold that adorned his figure. Loki was no mere prince, but a god of mischief, holding an entire world in the palm of his delicate hand. A dark mischief glittered in his eyes, the gorgeous royal leaning down to look closely at you.

He tilted your chin up, looking him directly in the eye, immediately disarmed and vulnerable as you did so. His expression changed almost imperceptibly, gone from his eyes in a flash as he looked away from you, addressing the court who had handed you over.

Your ears were ringing too loudly to hear what he said, your head spinning. A solider moved to guide you to sit at the base of the throne, at Loki’s feet, when you were suddenly snapped back into the present moment.

“You will not lay a hand on what is mine!” Loki’s shout thundered through the chamber, stopping the man before he could touch you.

The soldier quickly fell back, recognizing the lethal danger of disrespecting Loki. An entire room held its breath, the seconds agonizing, exhaling only when Loki motioned for festivities to resume.

Despite the advice to hide your fear, Loki could practical feel your startled fright. Everything else blurred into the background, the celebration entertaining itself, leaving you and Loki at the center of your own universe.

Loki leaned down with an outstretched hand, his expression softening as you met his gaze. He had not yet spoken directly to you, but you didn’t need instruction to place your hand in his, allowing his strength to move you forward. Loki guided you to kneel at his feet as he resumed his place on the throne, slotted between his long legs.

Delicate fingers gently tilted your chin to look up at him, the touch startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to what you’d been warned of.

“There is a long night of festivities ahead, you may rest on me if you grow weary,” Loki granted you permission to lie your head against his thigh, to sink back into the new shelter.

You gave a small nod of understanding, looking back down as his attention was demanded from another round of celebration.

Despite the dizzying commotion of Loki’s ceremony, your limbs became heavy and keeping your eyes open was a losing battle. Loki peered down at you as you slowly laid your head against his leg, letting your exhausted body rest for the first time.

A fierce desire to protect you swelled in Loki’s chest, suddenly cross with the noise and lights that combatted your sleep. As he continued to entertain offerings of exotic fruits and tributes from his kingdoms, Loki moved a leg in front of you, glaring at anyone who so much as looked too long in your direction.

He couldn’t imagine how drained you were, to sleep through the chaos. Your weight rested against his leg, though you didn’t let yourself fully drift into deep sleep, some part of you making sure that you were upright, not wanting to displease him.

Loki carefully supported you as he stood, lifting you off the floor with godly strength. The festivities continued without him — kings, gods, and valkyrie reenacting stories of battles and playing with magic in the great halls.

He’d had quite enough of the noise and empty affection, and desired nothing more than some quiet time alone with his offering.

“Careful,” he warned softly as you began to stir, strengthening his grip to keep you from falling.

“M’sorry,” you mumbled, your first words spoken in a haze of exhaustion.

“It’s alright, you’re free to rest,” Loki laid you down on his bed the moment you entered the privacy of his chambers.

Golden floors were etched in sweeping illustrations of history and mythology, telling the stories of your god beneath the bed draped in dark green silks. Huge doors opened to a veranda, a summer breeze ruffling the curtains, allowing glimpses of glittering astronomy overhead.

Your mind yearned to stay awake, to learn your surroundings and stay vigilant in the presence of Loki. Despite that, your body screamed for sleep, sinking into the soft bedding he had placed you on.

.

Loki watched you sleep.

Exhaustion kept your body rigidly still, not moving once the entire night. You stayed curled up in the very corner of the expansive bed, out of reach of Loki, who eventually took his place as the sun cracked the horizon.

The only indication you were real, was the gentle rise and fall of your back as you breathed. As you slept, the frightened expression vanished from your face, softening the your features. Loki couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your almost peaceful face.

Loki drifted in and out of sleep, not bothering to wake you after such a late and overwhelming night. You must have been weary, because you couldn’t have been comfortable, making yourself as small as possible at the very edge of the bed, not wanting to take up too much of Loki’s space.

You slowly opened your eyes, sunlight streaming in through the open veranda. The morning seemed impossibly peaceful, despite waking up into a new life of servitude. This didn’t feel like what you’d expected — waking up in a comfortable bed with the warm sun on your face, the scent of breakfast wafting from a huge spread on the chamber’s dining table.

“Good morning, darling,” Loki’s voice was much softer in the privacy of the chambers, without an audience.

You sat up, looking over as he stood from a couch, setting aside a novel. He was more relaxed, wearing loose black linen, his hair tied up loosely.

“Hi,” you whispered, at a loss for words — partially in awe of how gorgeous he was, and partially cautious, as if he were a cobra waiting to strike at any wrong move.

He watched as you observed your surroundings, inspecting your golden cage in the light of day. Loki’s chambers were beautiful, bright, and serene. It seemed so divorced from the perception you had of the god before being let in to the most private part of his existence. Loki moved smoothly throughout the room, delicate hands attached to a lean, muscular body. Loki’s face was sculpted out of marble, so stunningly beautiful it left you breathless. Green eyes pierced straight into your soul, laid bare when he looked at you.

“Eat something,” he gestured to the feast at the table, as if he were the devil, offering food to a goddess to keep captive in his lair forever.

It was your job to obey, your body moving before your mind even considered protest. The shimmering gown you were wearing the night before swept the floor as you walked, Loki admiring how beautiful you were, even slightly disheveled.

You hesitantly took a berry from the table, bringing it to your lips, licking the sweetness off your fingertips. The sight stirred something inside of Loki, his gaze focusing on the contours of your body that were visible through the just-sheer parts of the fabric draped over you.

“Master?” You could feel the weight of his gaze, invisibly drawing you to him.

Loki stepped toward you, pleased as you sank to your knees without any encouragement, easing into his submission. You wanted it, needed it, like your lungs needed air. A shimmer of green made your clothing disappear, baring you fully to Loki’s intoxicated gaze.

“Look at you, fit for a god,” he praised, slowly circling you as you kneeled, appreciating you from every angle.

“Only for you, master.”

“Loki,” he permitted you to call him by name, a request that pulled the corners of your lips up with small satisfaction.

The floor was cold beneath your knees, and your skin began to prick beneath a cool breeze from the veranda. Loki swelled over the recognition that you were his, and his alone. He was hard in the loose linen pants, eager to claim full ownership of you in such an intimate way. You willingly surrendered to him, practically desperate for him to take you, to consummate your submission to the god.

Your hands smoothed up the solid muscles of Loki’s thighs — limbs you wish to be bent over — before clutching the linen waistband and dragging down his trousers. The sight of him hung heavy made your mouth water and your cunt throb, desire swirling in your belly.

“Go ahead. Touch me as you please, I’m as much yours as you are mine,” Loki murmured, realizing you were waiting for permission, to do as you were told.

Long fingers wove into your hair, cradling the side of your head, pulling only slightly as you licked the tip of his cock, sending a shock up his spine.

He leaned back against the wall, smirking as your left palm flattened over his toned abs to brace yourself, pleased that you were trusting his words.

“Gods,” Loki swore when you took him in your mouth, letting him push you down until he was filling your throat.

Pretty tears welled at your lashes at his size, your throbbing need beginning to smear between your thighs. Your free hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your tongue dragging up his shaft. He was both long and thick, his skin like velvet on your tongue. It was a feat to take even half of him in your mouth, and you moaned and the thought of him fucking you, and how you’d beg to take it all.

“If worshipping my cock makes you wet enough to drip on my floor, I’ll let you do it every morning,” Loki purred with a grin, clearly taking notice of the effect he had on your body.

“Please,” you whimpered respectfully, dragging your fist up his length, giving your mouth a break.

“I’m close, darling, you’re doing beautifully,” he praised, watching your thighs squeeze together at his words.

“I want to come in that gorgeous mouth, feel myself in your throat.”

You tilted your head back just a bit, both to gaze up into his eyes and to let him in deeper. A low whine vibrated around his cock as his hand wrapped around your throat, gently squeezing.

“Fuck,” Loki hissed, spilling over into your mouth, filling your senses with his salty taste.

“Swallow it,” Loki commanded, and you were all too willing to obey, wanting to please him.

His thumb swiped over your lips, cleaning up the bit of mess he made, kneeling in front of you as you both caught your breath.

“Was that okay?” the question slipped out before you could stop yourself, puzzling Loki.

“Of course, it was perfect. Haven’t you done it before?”

“No, I’ve been kept pure for you,” you answered, earning a profane string of Norse as his dick twitched.

“You’ve made me insatiable,” Loki pressed a quick, messy kiss to your mouth that was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“No!” Loki shouted, standing up, displayed in his full glory to the guard who opened the door.

The furious god stood in front of you, blocking any eyes from catching even a glimpse of your body.

“Get out, now, or I shall have your eyes torn out!” Loki thundered, fiercely possessive over you.

“I’m so sorry, your highness. Odin has called on you—”

A sharp burst of Loki’s magic sent the man flying backward with a yell, the door slamming shut behind him.

“I’m sorry-” you began, as if you needed to apologize for being nude.

“I will never let anyone else touch you, see your body, or covet what is mine.”

A warmth spread through you at the words, taking his hand to stand up. He took a cloth, carefully cleaning you up, before guiding you into a closet that was full of the finest Asgardian fabrics.

“We’ll continue this later, darling, but for now, you’ll accompany me on whatever nonsense I’m being summoned for,” Loki explained, moving to dress himself as he left you to choose what maids had left for your arrival.

You chose green, pleasing the god as you adorned his colors, another sign of your growing devotion. Loki kissed your wrist, before a band of gold appeared in a shimmer, bringing a smile to your face.

He wordlessly led you out of his chambers, a hand at the small of your back. Being with him was intense — but the castle and all of its people was overwhelming. You found yourself leaning into Loki’s side, away from the noise of shouting and chaos of the everyday happenings.

He looked up from the throne to see what was bothering you before pulling you to sit between his legs where you could sink back into him and ignore the noise.

“We’ll leave as soon as I’m finished. Until then, you can entertain yourself by picturing what I’m going to do to your precious little pussy,” Loki whispered against the side of your face, gently nipping your ear.

You shuddered against his chest, feeling him chuckle beneath you as his arm tightened on your waist. Warmth flushed your cheeks and you turned your face into his arm, shy at the filthy words from Loki. He could feel your heart racing inside your ribs, anxious to tear the emerald gown from your body.

You were lost in your thoughts when Loki banished everyone from the expansive throne room, giant doors embedded with gemstones slamming shut, sealing you alone with him.

“Now, where were we?” Loki asked, mouthing hot kisses along your neck and shoulder.

“I believe you were about to fuck me, Loki,” you chirped.

“I love hearing those dirty words on your lips, all for me.”

“Only you,” you promised, closing the gap as he hovered above you.

The kiss was heady, his tongue warm and dominating as he pushed it past your lips. The sensation nearly distracted you from his hands, that were tearing the fabric around your torso, letting it flutter to the floor in shimmering pieces.

“I’m going to fuck you here, on this throne, like a proper king.”

You parted your legs, letting his hand drop between them. Loki smirked into your neck as he cupped your sex, feeling how wet you were, desperate for him as heat radiated from your center.

He didn’t bother to turn you over, perfectly happy to fuck you while you were on top of him, lying on his chest as he sat upon his throne. He glided his cock along your wet lips, only a moment until you were squirming with desperation.

He wanted to hear you beg, but even he couldn’t wait any longer, slowly sinking into you, every inch stretching you impossibly further. The sweet sting made you cry out, your head dropping back on his shoulder when he nestled himself fully inside you.

“You’re perfect for me,” Loki praised through gritted teeth, fighting not to slam into you like an animal. He could feel your walls throbbing around him, muscles burning as they were forced to take the stretch to fit him inside — and you loved it.

You doubted anything would ever feel so good, until his hips started to roll forward, the god fucking you deep and slow, holding your body against his chest. He buried his face in your shoulder, soaking up your squeals of pleasure as he lost himself in you.

Before he even thought to play with you, your cunt began to clench around him with an impending orgasm. Your startled whimper shot straight to Loki’s dick, and he fucked you harder, unable to help himself.

“Come around me, darling, let me know how good you feel,” Loki urged, nearly spilling into you as you trembled in his arms, coming with a scream that echoed off the walls.

“There you go,” he murmured, twitching before he filled you with his seed, painting your insides with him.

Your breaths were ragged and uneven, mind completely foggy in the aftermath. He breathed in your scent as he stayed inside you, preserving the moment for as long as possible.

“I’m yours, forever,” you whispered, as if reading his mind.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 6

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Eris and Y/N seem to have a knack for putting themselves in unsavory situations. Bonus: Eris has a flashback to the night they met.

Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Warnings: Alcohol, Language, Attempted SA

Oh gods. I rolled over slowly only to be met with a wave of nausea and a killer headache. I blinked several times, enough to bring the bedside table into view where a glass of water and a hangover tonic awaited me - at least I had the foresight to brace myself for the impending hell that awaited me after such an intoxicating night out.

It was an effort to pull my arm out from beneath the covers of my bed - which felt so much softer and warmer than usual. I drank a few sips of water and the tonic quickly cured the unease in my stomach but the remnants of the headache still remained. My impetuous little shadows tugged at me to get out of bed but it was just so comfortable - tuning them out I yanked my comforter over my head and drifted back asleep.

——————

Eris

Eris started awake as Y/N roused slightly from her sleep, just enough to find the tonic he’d left on his bedside table for her. Several hours ago, he’d settled in a lounge chair on the opposite side of the bed after she’d spent an hour with her head in the commode, alternating between heaving and berating him for being a “shady motherfucker” all while he held her silken hair back and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Once she’d completely emptied herself of both the contents of her stomach and insults, she insisted she needed to bathe herself - managing to stumble into the bath tub with her clothes still on and demand “something fried and something bubbly, good sir.”

She refused to undress so he could fill the tub, so he left her there to her own devices while he torched some breaded chicken tenderloins in the kitchen - his fire power really came in handy in times like this - where a five foot whatever heathen was demanding sustenance ASAP. “High Lord my ass.” He mumbled to himself as he carried a tray of seltzer water and her fried chicken into the bathroom… where she was sound asleep in the tub.

Good lord, what had he gotten himself into with this beautiful mess. The mother only knew.

So he’d carried her to the bed, feeling a bit sleazy for changing her out of her dress while asleep but it was either let her rest in a liquor and vomit splattered dress that did everything for her curves and absolutely nothing for comfort… or change her out of it and into one of his cotton tees. Perhaps his male ego beamed slightly at the thought of her sleeping in his shirt but he assured himself that her comfort was his top priority.

He warmed the sheets using his fire magic and tucked her in before setting out the tonic and settling in on the lounge.

————————-

Y/N

When I reawoke, it must have been hours later. Whoever came in and opened the curtains could go to hell as the sunlight filtering in assaulted my eyes.

“Mother’s tits.” I groaned out as I stretched, careful not to turn my head too quickly in an effort of staving any sudden returns of nausea or shooting pains from the headache.

As my eyes slowly began adjusting to the damned sunlight, three things stood out. One: my shadows were swirling in front of me and intertwining with my fingers excitedly. Two: Someone was….cooking? In my bedroom. And as my vision fully cleared, three: This wasn’t my room, it was a fucking studio apartment.

“Owww.” I whined as I turned my head toward the direction of whatever greasy delight was cooking only to see red hair pulled up into a bun, a glorious muscular bare back hindered only by the tie of an apron, and delicious toned legs exposed by cloth shorts hemmed at the mid-thigh.

Mother’s tits indeed. Just when I thought the bastard couldn’t get any hotter.

An opportunist, traitor of a shadow shot away from me, caressing his arm as it handled a pan on the stove.

“Morning sunshine.” Eris purred, not even turning to look at me.

I scrunched my nose, lowering my tone into that of disgust - a futile effort to appear unphased by the sight before me “Why are you here? And where the fuck are we?”

“Always a pleasure to see you too, little one. Breakfast first?”

I desperately wanted to object but the bacon he was cooking smelled delicious and fuck if he didn’t look delicious too.

“Whatever.” I muttered, rolling my eyes at either his ability to tolerate whatever I threw at him or myself for being so internally captivated by the half-naked high lord cooking breakfast for me.

He didn’t need to turn around for me to feel the smirk forming on his lips as he began plating our food.

Breakfast was….. silent. Eris sat in a chair watching me with mischief in his eyes and I did my best to focus on the borderline ecstasy inducing combination of grease and whatever smokey, apple seasoning he’d flavored the bacon with.

After a long ‘bout of silence I finally gave in to his game. “Alright Eris,” His name rolled off my tongue like more honey and less venom than intended. “I’ll bite. Where are we anyway? And how?”

“I told you last night, little love. We’re at my apartment.”

Hazy memories rolled back just a bit. A blur of red, a steadying arm, and-

“In Velaris?”

“Is it so shocking that I invest my funds into properties. How many palacial homes do Rhysand and Feyre have now? More than three, yes?”

I crossed my arms. A bit like a petulant child, yes, but it did the trick as it shelved my breasts perfectly enough that Eris was caught off guard. Good.

I leaned forward, the gap in the neck of my - his shirt allowing a glimpse of the unclothed breasts beneath.

“Quit deflecting.” biting my lip, I leaned in a bit closer tracing a finger along his jaw, over the stubble shadowing the sharp angles of it, my palm then meeting his cheek just lightly enough to make his eyelids flutter as he leaned into it.

A fresh wave of the hangover nausea churned through my stomach causing me to tense, slightly drawing back and breaking the trance I had him in.

Eris tsk’d “Uh uh, clever girl.” His eyes darkened as that stupid, perfect sly smirk of his crossed over his features. “You won’t seduce answers from me, though I do love to see you try.” Letting out a sigh that I could have sworn was a bit condescending he continued, “Had you not ghosted me following our delightful night after Starfall, you’d have known.”

“Perhaps Eris, had you not kept information from me and threatened MY High Lord with violence over whatever you’re keeping from me then I would not have resorted to such measures.”

Eris leaned back in his chair, one leg arrogantly crossed over the other as one elbow rested on an arm of the chair and the other hand’s thumb and pointer finger rubbed curiously at his jaw.

“And how- pray tell, do you know of such violent threats? Nothing came through my end of the bargain tattoo so I know that Rhysand did not inform you.”

“No. You should be smarter, High Lord, about what you say beyond established wards. You never know what little ears may be prying.”

Realization crossed Eris’s features as he pieced together who had heard him.

“I simply stated that there would be retaliation. Your High Lord would reciprocate similarly if there were facets of my end of the bargain being broken.”

I leaned closer, inches away from Eris’ face.

“You can tell me what information is so important that a bargain is required to withhold it from me - or I can leave now.”

I could have sworn pain crossed his face briefly before he cooly said, “I’d hate to see you go, my little shadow but I always enjoy watching you leave.”

“I’m sure you do.” I stood up, swaying my hips as I walked toward the door, powering through the lingering hangover symptoms.

“Taking my shirt with you?”

“Ah, you’re right. Best to leave the dirty laundry here.”

Facing Eris and making a show of so slowly pulling the shirt up over my head, giving a perfect view of the rise and the bounce of my breasts as I tossed his shirt back to him.

“Your dress is covered in vomit and liquor.” Hand gesturing lazily toward the dress hanging over the bathroom door knob.

“Guess you’ll have to stay a while longer.

And damn my stubbornness because this was not a battle I was about to let him win.

“I’m winnowing home, Eris. Fuck the dress.”

“Wards extend to the street, sweetheart.”

I faltered but only for a moment.

I’ve never been ashamed of my body but strutting naked into the streets of Velaris wasn’t ideal.

Eh - C’est la vie

I grinned. A sharp, wicked thing.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He growled.

Was - was that jealousy? Possessiveness?

And with that, I strutted out of his apartment in only a lace thong.

“Wait!” He called but I didn’t miss a beat.

As I walked into the street, onlookers gawked but I paid no mind. “Y/N! Stop. Come back!” He yelled, grabbing my wrist right as I winnowed to the back door of my home.

“What the fuck was that?” Eris growled, voice low with anger and something else.

I turned to face him as he slung a jacket he’d grabbed on his way out over my shoulders, barely hiding my ass and doing nothing to cover my tits but it’s the thought that counts I suppose.

Had I not still been a bit inebriated from the prior night perhaps I would have remembered I had shadows at my disposal to give at least the illusion of modesty but -

I sobered up quickly as my father stepped out of the door in his leathers - likely headed to meet Uncle Cass before heading to Windhaven - only to be greeted by his mostly naked daughter and half-naked High Lord of the Autumn Court.

Icy rage and total discomfort crossed his features, his shadows shooting out to cover me.

The war of emotions was palpable as he clenched his fists, siphons glowing, eyes shooting daggers straight through Eris.

Eris tensed before dropping his typical arrogant bastard mask into place. “Greetings Spymaster.” An arrogant smirk plastered onto his face.

Father’s jaw clenched and his fists fought a battle of wills as if he’d beat Eris to a pulp right then and there. Finally he managed to ground out, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

——————————-

Eris flashback

The prior night

Y/N let out a rather loud snore in her drunken slumber, stirring him from the sleep he’d just begun drifting off to. Her hair had fallen over her face and he couldn’t resist leaning forward and gently tucking it behind her ear.

“Mm, Eris” she whispered in her sleep followed by the slightest upward twitch of her lips.

Fuck - it was so hard sometimes. He wasn’t a perfect male but he did his best to do right by those he cared about.

Sometimes he had to distance himself from her to prevent himself from laying it all bare - tell her everything instead of letting her believe him to be the “sneaky motherfucker”. She was so young, sure in fae society five years, fifty years, five-hundred years age difference, nobody batted an eye but he’d lived so much life compared to her less than thirty.

Amusement and longing rang through him as he took care of her intoxicated ass tonight, reminding him of the night out that brought them together in the first place.

Lucien and Vassa were busy in the Day Court and Adish was going out with a couple of friends - visiting a new tavern in a recently modernized town in the northeastern territory of the Autumn Court. The town itself was safe but there were still the ocasional ruffians passing through. Lucien had requested that Eris send eyes out to ensure their protection. Something urged him to just go himself and damn, he’d never stop being grateful that he did.

The evening itself was boring. Mostly high fae but even lesser fae who had become adjusted to the “new era” ushered in with his reign came out to the tavern. There were harsh punishments for unjust violence within the Autumn Court now. Still, there was so much change needed but it would come in time. His people were rather set in their ways but a new justice system was starting to usher in change.

He nursed a beer in a corner booth, catching the eyes of plenty of fae nearby but managing to avoid the attention of Adish and his crew - which included Nyx Archeron and the little Shadowsinger who he’d heard was quickly rising in their ranks.

Nyx and Adish had both wandered off with a couple of gorgeous females with the classic red hair of his Court along with interestingly enough, Tamlin’s daughter. Layla - if he recalled correctly.

Interesting.

His attention caught as he noticed two brutes who were definitely not from here vying for the little Shadowsinger’s attention. He chuckled to himself as she waived them off, turning back to a group of females she’d stumbled out of the bathroom with. She danced without a care, holding one hand in the air as her shadows steadied her wrist in an effort to prevent spillage.

He’d give it to Rhysand’s Shadowsinger and the Archeron sister who nearly broke his brother’s heart, they passed down all of their best genetics to the stunning female on the dance floor.

The males continued irritating her, going so far as to cut her off from the group by dancing their way between them. She kept dancing but he could have sworn she was letting them cut her off, despite the obvious malicious intentions the males had for her. As they backed her to a quieter portion of the dance floor the larger male grabbed her wrist, tugging her towards the door. She shook her head no but he kept pulling as the other male corralled her from behind. Eventually she waived off the grip on her wrist and walked out with them.

Fuck. He really had no interest in lighting anybody’s asses up tonight but someone had to get the trash out of his court. And despite the fact that he and Azriel were never the best of friends, his daughter deserved more than to be ignored due to their indifferences.

So he sighed, exited out the front door and strode toward the alleyway the other entrance had led to. As he rounded the corner, he came to a halt, lurking in the shadows and taking in a sight that he hadn’t anticipated.

The Shadowsinger sat unbothered on top of a barrel with an elbow on the knee that crossed over her opposite leg. Her face filled with complete and utter boredom as she rolled her eyes at the males bound in shadow before her.

“You couldn’t have just let me be, huh boys? I was having fun with the girls in there too.

I suppose I should thank you though. After all, you won me my next three rounds of drinks. You see, the girls and I had a bet on how quickly you’d give in to your sleazy nature.

One of them bet two hours, another an hour, and me? I know a pig when I see one. Less than thirty minutes from the first time you hit on me and, well, here we are boys.”

The males couldn’t speak through the gags her shadows had placed on their mouths but the rage was apparent in their squeals.

“Anyway, since you were so desperate to find release tonight, I’ve decided to help… remedy the situation.”

With a snap of the wrist and the exception of their underwear, their clothes disappeared while the shadows binds remained in place.

She gave them each a once over and a disapproving laugh, withdrawing the shadows that were gagging them.

“Alright boys, I’ve so generously removed your gags as a thank you for helping me win my bet. You may kiss eachother now.”

The males gaped. The burlier of the two seemed to lack the understanding of the fact that he was at the disadvantage in this situation. “You little whor-“

“Uh uh.” She wagged her finger. Shadows aiming at him like daggers. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. Not that it seems anyone ever taught you manners. Pity.”

The males were visually appalled. Glancing back and forth between her and eachother as if saying “what now?”

Both males fought the restraints to no avail as the little Shadowsinger grinned with amusement at the predicament she’d put them in.

“Honestly, I should just have my shadows castrate you. Would that be more appealing? You two seemed perfectly inclined to share me, what’s a kiss between friends?”

“Please. Sorry - just let us go.” The smaller of the two pleaded.

“Once you kiss - perhaps I’ll consider. Best do it soon though, I’d hate for the little situations beneath your underwear to be revealed to the patrons of this lovely establishment when my friends come looking for me.”

The males glanced once more at eachother, leaning closely in, still hesitating but resigning themselves to their fate.

When their lips were mere centimeters apart, she held up a hand. “Ah- just a moment, boys. We have company.”

Eris started at the comment. Looking down he found a shadow winding around his ankle - was he imagining things or was it almost playful?

“High Lord.” She mused. “How do you dispose of the trash in your court?”

Mask in place, he casually stepped out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets and a devilish grin on his face.

Her gaze fixed on him. Her beauty even more striking up close, and her scent - utterly mouth watering. And when his eyes met hers

Snap.

He knew then and there that he was wholehearted and irrevocably hers for the rest of his days.

He’d wait another 500 for it to snap for her too if he had to.

She was his mate. His.

————————-

A/N: Sorry (kind of) for always leaving you all on chaotic little cliffhangers. I hope the flashback made up for the torture at least a little bit!! 😏

Tags: @b0xerdancer @myheartfollower @ang-taylorsversion @acotarobsessed @uniquecolorwizard @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thelov3lybookworm @starryhiraeth @5moremin

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

[diagonal-queen]

omg what if i requested...

okay okay imagine: [character] taking a bath with you and its all cute but GOD DAMN WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY RUBBER DUCKS? like yalls are taking a bath and you just pull out the rubber ducks and dump them in the bath djfbdjdj YES SFW I WE DONT TOLERATE NSFW HERE

characters: ranpo, dazai, chuuya, poe, atsushi, [your favorites] SEPARATE! if you dont wanna do em all you can just do poe and ranpo lol also you can insert blue lock characters if you want to 👍

i want isagi so bad frfr ALSO HONKAI STAR RAIL CAELUS WHY ISNT ANYONE TALKING ABOUT HIM LIKE HELLO??? TRASH CAN BOYFRIEND??? HES SO HOT TOO? I WANT HIM TOO FRFR

i hope youre having a good day i am indeed alive!!

- nia

A NIA REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT OMG YES

Rubber duckie, you're the one~

♡ pairing: Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai Osamu, Chuuya Nakahara, Edgar Allan Poe, Atsushi Nakajima, Mykola Hohol, Tecchou Suehiro x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: You bring rubber ducks into the bath.

♡ cw: Swearing, nudity I guess??? It's not NSFW lmao but gotta cover my bases

note: HELLO NIA. I want you to know that I AM gonna be doing a BLLK version of this some time after I've finished this one. Also I don't know much about Honkai Star Rail but isn't Caelus basically like that game's equivalent of Aether from Genshin? I'm uncultured T-T These are just crack hcs lol uh yeah apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Ranpo:

Bold of you to assume this mf didn't bring his own rubber ducks

The bathtub is overcome with your shared aquatic fowl. You two are having an absolute field day in there (and not like a regular field day, but like a Magic School Bus field day)

Maybe they have a war or something. Or maybe they establish a peace agreement and the two leaders of your different duck nations get married to form a union

You guys end up staying in the tub until the water is freezing

Honestly though, you probably benefitted from having a little while to both just indulge in childish behaviour without any judgement or consequences. And it was super fun so no regrets

After the first time you guys decide to start having shared baths every now and then when things get too stressful at work, so you could blow off steam in a harmless and fun way

But you two don't tell anybody. I mean Ranpo still brings rubber ducks to public bathhouses because he's just like that but nobody else ever finds out the true extent of your duck-related shenanigans

10/10 would recommend bubble bath rubber duck therapy w/ autistic manchild 👍

Dazai:

He didn't expect it, but he likes it!

Dazai probably never washes himself ever so he was already quite on board with the idea of having a bath with you (he gets to see you nakey and have clean hair for once? Like what a win)

Also I reckon he's the kinda guy who really enjoys bubble baths and plays with them and gets the bathroom all messy with the bubbles (me too Dazai)

So he was pretty hyped for this. But then you dump like fifty rubber ducks into the bath and NOW IT'S TIME TO GET FUNKY

Dazai has definitely never played with them before. He's amused with the way they float, with the fact that they make noise when you squeeze them, their big stupid eyes and everything about them

He initially wants to question why you have so many of them or where you got them from but then he just as quickly decides that he doesn't really wanna know the answer

Is he as invested in the ducks as you are? No, but he's very curious about them and finds it nice that you enjoy them so much

Probably wraps one in bandages and gives it to you so you're always thinking of him or smth 💀 (it's cute though)

Chuuya:

If Chuuya has run you a bath he probably intended for it to be romantic and relaxing

And then you bringed in the duckies

After a quick discussion you two do compromise on a romantic bath. With rubber ducks. And it honestly ends up being more perfect than either of you expected

He'd have been willing to just let you do your thing though because he just wants you to be happy but mans works too hard to pass up an opportunity to relax in the bath with you

So what ends up happening is you two just cuddle in the bath and talk about life and romance and stuff, and there's also ducks floating there, entirely out of place

Like Chuuya would have pulled out all the stops. Candles and wine and stuff, so like a pretty mature scene that does not accommodate for rubber ducks, and yet there they are

But he thinks it's really cute how into the ducks you are so he lets you keep them around

He would definitely buy you more rubber ducks in the future just to see you smile. Chuuya is down so bad for you 😌

Poe:

He's probably never even seen a rubber duck in his 1800s gothic anxietycore life

You might honestly have to explain what they are. He's like 'and they don't do anything? You just have them there for company?' and you're like 'yeah!' and he's just like

Poe would find one singular duck of yours and latch onto it. That one is his duck now and he would keep it nearby because it reminds him of you

Overall though he doesn't really get on board with it. Like after the first two minutes when the novelty fades he's like '...can we please remove them' lol

If you say yes then the bath then continues on exactly as expected. It's nice but Poe's a little insecure and shy (cuddle him pls)

If you say no then he's just gonna learn to deal with them. This man doesn't have the balls to set boundaries with you (ME TOO POE)

That being said, if Karl likes the ducks? ...oh boy he's straight up going to purchase an avalanche of them

It's really up to you whether or not the ducks catch on or not, Poe's just along for the ride whether or not he wants to be

Atsushi:

Help him

They didn't have rubber ducks in the orphanage, and Atsushi probably hasn't had a proper nice long bath in years. He did not want nor expect a horde of rubber ducks

But Atsushi loves you so much that he's willing to look past it. And the duckies actually grow on him by the time you guys get out the bath

He's always seen bathing as just that. A way to clean. But you're determined to introduce him to the wonders of bathtime and make up for the childhood he wasn't allowed to have

He mostly just goes along with you and doesn't really match your energy, but he absolutely loves seeing you so excited about the ducks

He would definitely like the idea of baths being a cute couply thing for you guys to do though so whether or not you got your ducks with you is honestly irrelevant

But you do. And so he accepts them as a part of being with you. In sickness and health or whatever idk nobody loves me lmao

Just make sure that you give Atsushi as much attention as you give to the ducks okay?

Mykola:

Mykola has literally never been happier in his entire life

This was the moment when he realised that you were the one for him. His soulmate, his one and only

He doesn't care how many ducks there are, he just cares that there's ducks. And that you're the one who bought them into the bathtub.

The pair of you wreak havoc on the bathroom. Like with Ranpo, y'all were just being a little playful. You and Mykola straight up destroy the whole room

You two spend hours in there coming up with names, extended backstories and lore of each rubber duck and it gets so complicated so fast

He would also give each one of them a different voice while you guys are messing around. Theatre kid moment

You've now given him the idea to just randomly present you with rubber ducks at any time, regardless of the scenario. Your collection grows tenfold due to this bastard and Fyodor is not pleased about it. Not when Mykola is interrupting DOA meetings with fucking ducks

The poor repair guys you hire to fix the bathroom...they're so confused T-T

Tecchou:

Straight up just does not react. This shit is a regular Tuesday for him

LET'S NOT PRETEND THAT HE DOESN'T OWN RUBBER DUCKS BECAUSE HE LITERALLY DOES I SAID SO

And he just lets them float there in the bath and pays no mind to them. Doesn't play with them, talk to them or whatever. It's just nice to have some silent, non-judgemental company sometimes

Tecchou doesn't strike me as someone who would suggest that you two take a bath together, so it was most likely your idea. He went along with it because relaxing in a steamy room with you sounded nice, but in reality you just wanted to show him the ducks

And though he might have seemed disinterested he was so happy to know that you and him had a similar interest

You two are so good for each other that way <3 (good = autistic I guess, because Tecchou is canon autism I decided)

So while you play with the ducks or whatever he just sits there content and watches you do so with a little smile. Probably calls you cute at some point entirely catching you offguard

You two make it a regular thing, but Jouno probably finds out somehow and it's just a whole other can of worms I won't go into rn

Taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fedyushka, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

[mightymizora]

Respite

A simple bath will likely do very little in the face of the arcane hunger that is starting to consume him from the inside out. Yet again, it won’t hurt.

Glim has a gift for Gale on their first night in the Underdark. (AKA I had a lot of feelings about Gale and chronic pain)

Read it on Ao3

“Oh, but you are clever.”

“I like it when you say that.”

She has uncovered an old tin tub under a sheet in Lenore’s quarters, with a stack of scrolls of create water carefully placed to one side. It’s full of lightly-steaming water, a scent of salt in the air. Gale breathes it in, the heaviness in his chest burning with each breath.

“I’ve been heating the metal for… well, a while now,” Glim tells him, smiling up at him with pride. “It should be a nice warmth and not a boilpot. Hopefully.”

“Have you tested it?”

“Well, I don’t know how hot you can take it.”

She walks over to the bath and looks back at him, peering over the edge. It’s almost as tall as she is, and the ripple of the candlelight hits the water and reflects a gentle glimmer across the scar on her face, lighting up her eyes as they sparkle with that kind, warm look of hers. He almost doesn’t take in what she just said.

“Me?”

“Don’t tell the others. I think Astarion would literally murder for it. But I thought it might help with everything.”

Everything, indeed. The orb cannot be sated, and there is little he can think of to do. Some magic can take the worst edge off the pain but he is exhausted, too slow to be useful in battle and a hindrance as they traverse this dangerous terrain. All of his energy is expended on magic to ensure he can even see in this damnable darkness, a problem that nobody else shares, leaving him drained to the point of feeling like his chest is caving in on itself. A simple bath will likely do very little in the face of the arcane hunger that is starting to consume him from the inside out.

Yet again, it won’t hurt.

“This is most generous. Most kind.”

“Let’s hope it does something. Clothes off then, while it’s still hot.”

He freezes. She cannot possibly think that he could do that around her? They were close, yes, but if anything that made it worse. Until he had told her the truth about his condition there had been a soft sweetness that they had shared, and he thought - well, perhaps presumed was a more apt word, given the evidence in front of him - that despite the icy shard that had driven into the warmth of their burgeoning affections for each other, that she still. Well. That perhaps, as he did, she-

“Ah,” she says with a grimace. “I forget you humans have such hang-ups around privacy. There’s not much place for it when you’re ten to a room.” She taps out a rhythm on the side of the bath as she thinks. “Well,” she says brightly after a moment, “how about I leave for a few minutes, get the last things I need, and when I return you can already be in the water? The salts have left the water quite cloudy, I’m sure it will hide whatever you feel you need to.”

“And what are your plans when you return?”

“I have an idea. To help. Indulge me?”

Her eyes are shining in that way she does when she’s been plotting. She is always so full of plans, of schemes and ideas and theories. It is what he has always adored the most in her.

“Always.”

He watches as she disappears behind the screen that divides this small corner of the room from the rest of this ruined floor. She has pulled up a small chair, he assumes for him to leave his belongings on, and has a row of neat bottles, potions and delicious smelling herbal soaps lined up on a nearby bookshelf within arms reach. There is some kind of robe, perhaps pulled from the ruined wardrobes in the other floors, and even the concession of a single candle to break through the darkness, set on the floor so as not to draw attention to the horrors lurking outside. Back in Waterdeep, before his confinement, he was a rather frequent visitor to the Temple of Beauty and took great joy in an afternoon of pleasures. Had he told her about those days? He can’t think that he has, and yet there are so many small details in how she has tried to set this up that takes him back to those easier times, despite the desolation they find themselves in.

He runs his hand through the water, testing how deeply he would need to be submerged to maintain some level of dignity. The water is a milky white, and his hand disappears into clouds before his elbow is even grazing it. Satisfied, he slips off his shoes and then his clothes, folding them on the chair before climbing in.

The water makes him gasp as he lowers himself to the bottom, and it is hotter still there. He almost has tears in his eyes as the water settles on his chest, lapping at the edges of the tub. It is a little small for him, but he is still largely covered, his knees bent to allow him to ease his shoulders down and rest the back of his head against the edge. It is lovely. It is.

The pain remains, however. It is both a pressure and a spark, at the same time a deep sore ache in his muscles and the weaving of electricity from his shoulder up his neck and into his eyes. It makes his fingers move slower, causing him to stumble over spellcasting that should be second-nature. It makes his feet sluggish as he walks and his words escape him as he talks. As he sinks into the water, he can feel the warmth trying to feed into him, release his tired muscles and unknot the tensions, and the orb is almost pushing back against it in defiance.

“Can I come through?”

She was so light on her feet, he could almost never track her by her footsteps. “Yes, by all means.”

She comes around the screen with a small pouch, her eyes set on it and not him, which is a slight relief. She is always so consumed by her ideas when she is excited by them.

“I noticed that when we were affected by the Sussar flowers, you were standing taller. I thought perhaps it might have had some additional benefits.” She holds up a sealed bottle with a suspension in it. “I don’t know if it holds its power this way, or how long, but I thought it might be more stable like this. It would mean we lose our magic for a short time, which I know is not comfortable… but if you’re willing?”

“You noticed such a little thing?”

“Well,” she says with a shy smile. “I make it my business to notice such things. Astarion’s hunger. Karlach’s fire. Your…”

“Condition.”

“Your pain, Gale. It’s okay to name it.”

He takes a deep breath, feeling the pressure of the orb pulling against the lateral muscles across his shoulders, making his breath hitch at the end. He tries to not think about it at all, yet alone speak about it. There is a faint sharp feeling of embarrassment about it, he realises. Perhaps he had been too forthcoming with her in the moment. She should not have to carry his burdens as well as her own.

“Well?” Glim asks. Her eyes are on him now. “What do you think? I believe after a few hours it won’t be potent anymore, so the effect should wear off in good time for when you next need to cast.”

“Go on then. You know I can never resist practical application of a sound theory.”

“Well, I’m not sure it’s sound. But it shouldn’t do any harm.”

She empties the whole bottle without ceremony, shaking it like a salt well to get every last drop in the water. There is a bloom of softly glowing blue as it works its way through the waters. Then, with a grin, she gently sprinkles a fistful of dried flowers across the surface, dropping the last with purpose by his chest.

“Do the petals do anything?”

“Oh, not at all. But they look pretty, don’t they?”

He watches her as she picks up two of the bottles of oil from the shelves and holds them up. “Sussar doesn’t have much of a scent to it, unfortunately. So. One, or two?”

She puts them in front of his nose one and then the other. The first is a bloom of lavender and some kind of sweetness he doesn’t recognise - perhaps something extracted from a deep mushroom? - and the second is a salty explosion of balsam. They lack complexity compared to his recollection of what was used in the temple, but they were surprisingly pleasant.

“The first, perhaps. It’s rather unusual. Did you blend it yourself?”

“From notes in the laboratory. Our departed wizard was a talented botanist. This seems to have been her signature.”

She holds it to her own nose and closes her eyes as she inhales deeply, letting out a hum of approval before she drops just a few drops into the water. Placing it down, she starts to roll up the sleeves of her shirt, and he finds his face flushing with heat at the sight of it. Her revealing just the slightest amount of flesh, her elbows bent as she carefully rolls her cuffs, suddenly makes him painfully aware that he is naked. And that may be nothing to her, but it is certainly something to him.

“Lay back,” she instructs him gently as she walks up to the top of the tub. “And close your eyes, please.”

She dips a small silver dish into the waters and raises it, tilting his head further back as she pours it gently over the front of his hairline. The warmth trickles over him as soft as a caress as she wets his hair, taking her time as she tilts his head to the side. She is so close to him like this, and he opens his eyes despite instruction and watches as her own eyes narrow in concentration, looking past his own eyes and to her ministrations. She is at her most beautiful like this. The thought passes over him like the sweep of water. There is a finery to her brow in concentration, her jaw flexes and it draws his eye to her strong cheekbones, to her soft, slightly open pink lips, the colour more vivid towards the pull of her mouth. The scar on her face, a sweeping web of purples and soft silver against the bluish-grey of her skin. The tiny mole on the side of her neck that he has often thought to lean over and kiss. It is but a turn of his head away from being able to do just that.

“You’re good at this, you know,” he murmurs, closing his eyes again for his own sake.

“I know. Though I wish it were for a glamorous reason.”

She runs her fingers across his temples to ensure the water has penetrated, and he cannot stop a soft moan escaping him. She laughs softly as she repeats the motion, hand over hand as she gently pulls the hair behind his ears.

“There is one thing I can do, which is a little more special. A trick from an old paramour.”

“Glim-”

“Trust me. She was excellent with her hands.”

He can smell the oil on her fingers as she places her fingers on his head, thumbs joined and fingers pressing gently into his temples. Slowly, with the strength of her practised bardic hands, she presses small circles into his skull. It is blissful… and it is familiar.

“A Sunite?”

“Indeed.” She shifts closer as she turns her hands in his hair, the movement sweeping back across his scalp in the formation of the swan, one of his very favourites. “Her name was Almeida. She was back in Neverwinter, in the temple. I taught her the lyre. She taught me some other things.”

Her fingers push down again and he doesn’t stifle his moan this time, he couldn’t if he tried. It is blissful. It is perfect.

It is very dangerous, to be this relaxed.

“What happened?” he asks her in an attempt to pull himself back. “Is she… do you still share-”

“Gods, no,” she laughs as her fingers find the back of his head and push into the top of his neck. “We had a lovely few summers. But Sune demands a certain beauty I do not possess. Or at least, that’s what I saw. It flickered out like the end of a candle. But it was something lovely, I think.”

“Well, she was a terrible fool, if that is so.”

Does she not know, he wonders, how beautiful she is? How she is different from and prettier than any other person he has seen? If things were different, if he were home and there were ways in which to show her…

“That silver tongue of yours. You can’t help but play the charmer.”

“I speak the truth. She was a fool, if she could not see your splendor.”

“You are very kind.”

They slip into silence for a little as she repeats her ministrations, the pressure in her fingers growing as she sweeps through again, and once more. He lets his eyes drift shut as he concentrates on breathing deeply, letting himself be caught up in the sensation of her work and not, for once, in his chest. She starts to hum absently; music thrums through her always, and he tries and fails to identify the song.

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“Hm?”

“The tune. I don’t know it.”

“Oh. Well, it’s new.”

“You’re composing?”

“All the time. There’s so much inspiration. So much I want to capture.”

She sweeps her fingers down one last time as her touch becomes more gentle and her hands drift away and he settles into his body again.

“Has it helped?” She asks him, coming to the side of the bath and leaning her elbow against it. “Has it helped at all?”

“Your fine company is always a balm.”

“Gale. Be serious.”

“Well.”

There is no point, he thinks, in trying to hide the truth from her. It would be a poor thing to do in the face of such generosity. “It has been lovely, and there has been some slight relief in the worst of it, to be sure. However…”

“It’s beyond the point where it can be helped at all, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid I think it might be.”

She taps on the edge of the bath, a sharp rhythm that puts him on edge. She’s trying to think, he has seen this before. She is trying, her brow furrowed, biting her lip as her eyes fall to the floor. Slowly, the rhythm fades to nothing, and in the silence, she slowly, carefully, lays her grey hand on his.

He does not dare move.

“If you truly think it is near the end,” she says, her hand on his, “If you think it is time we… we could stay here. In this tower. The others could go on ahead. There’s plenty to read, enough food to sustain us, there’s precious little nearby that would amount to civilisation. We could stay here, and see what takes us first.”

“Glim-”

“I said I would stay with you, didn’t I? I can take care of you. I’m good at it.”

She looks at him, and he knows she is serious. “I would never ask you to.”

“I know. But how could I live with myself, knowing I’d left you to die alone?”

Her words drop down upon them and he does not know what to say. It is strange to admit, but in his thoughts of what would come should the orb take over him, his thoughts had not been of what would be left behind. He imagines himself climbing through wilderness and finding a cove, and praying one final time to his Lady as he commits himself to her care. Then, bright light, and maybe the sight of her again. That was what he had dreamed of, wasn’t it? That perhaps if he could be brave enough, humble enough, that in death he would find her forgiveness again?

Now he thinks of his mother. He has behaved wretchedly to her, carving her out of his life under the pretense of keeping her safe, which he now realises was a coward’s way out of having to explain himself and see the look on her face when she realised her son was… well. That he was a fool, and would pay the price of it. He thinks of Tara, dear Tara, who has kept him alive all of this time and who is probably frantic with worry in the tower. He thinks of his new friends, because he feels he can call them that now, Karlach at the front of his mind. He can see her face so clearly, lit up with fury at the injustice of it all.

And he sees Glim. He sees her as he sees her now, tears pricking the corner of her blue eyes, wide as the lakes of Elysium.

She looks away from him and runs her other hand through her hair. “Listen, I should let you-”

He takes her hand before she can move it away from his, pressing her fingers to her lips. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it won’t help things, doesn’t change anything, but he does it anyway. He runs his thumbs over the callouses on her fingertips, inhales the scent of all of the herbs and flowers she has crushed to do this for him. She leans in, kisses him at the temple quickly before taking her hand away.

“The water must be getting colder without the magic. I didn’t think… I’ll leave you to enjoy it.” There is something at the corner of her voice he cannot quite place as she gathers some of the bottles and readies to leave. “There’s soaps just by you on that shelf, and be careful getting out with the oils. And don't stay too long. It’s hard to keep your sleep patterns without the sun, so you should get rest soon. When we wake…”

“When we wake, we shall carry on,” he says. “We find our way towards Moonrise, as planned.”

“Right. There’s hope, until there isn’t.”

He has heard her roll that saying around in her mouth so many times now. A Svirfneblin saying, so stark to the point of almost seeming glib. But it was true, though simple, and poetic in its honesty and clarity. He forgets sometimes about the great gulf of differences between them, of their lives and circumstances, when he sees so much of the familiar in her.

She smiles back at him one last time before departing, and he can just about hear her descending back to the basement.

He leans back and lets the water hold him for just a little while longer.

[nocasdatsgay]

The Price You Pay For Power Ch. 5

Pairing: Neris | Chapter Rating: T | Word Count: 4493

Story Summary: Eris revises his bargain with Rhysand: Nesta for Autumn Healers. He agrees and Nesta is sent to Autumn under the guise as Eris’s new bride in order to assist with removing Beron for good. Now she has to navigate a new court and also decide just how much she will trust her new husband.

CW: None

Chapter Summary: Wedding Day!

Read it here on AO3| Previous Chapter| Masterpost

A/N: if the vows are icky that’s on purpose. Also I had to replace Áine because it copied over wrong and I wanted to die by the time this is posted. I don’t think the photo below is going to appear smaller so. Oh well I am attempting dividers. I apologize in advance.

Nesta awoke early to the sounds of movement in her room. For a moment she panicked; unfamiliar scents and the sounds of more than one person made her heart race. Then she remembered. She sat up to find the two servants from yesterday in her room.  

“Lady Nesta,” one noticed her first and curtsied by the bed. “Your fitting is in an hour. The dress is being set up in the sitting room. The Lady of Autumn requested she be present.”

The girl did not look her in the eyes. She felt guilty for already forgetting their names. The quiet one scurried off to the bathing room. She could hear water being run. 

“Thank you,” Nesta whispered. 

As she gained her senses, she remembered their names: Opal and Lynn. As yesterday, she bathed- they insisted despite her protests. They also insisted she wash her hair. Nesta sarcastically asked how she was supposed to let that much hair dry before the ceremony only to be informed there was a way to dry it with magic. Begrudgingly, she did as requested. 

She was given a soft amber colored robe to cover herself with. They indeed used magic to dry her hair; Lynn used her hands, hovering them over her hair until they dried in perfect curls. They said it was Autumn fashion to wear it down. She didn’t argue with them. Opal was the one who wove in pearl pins, with a golden rose clipped on the right side of her hair. Nesta hated that she liked it despite preferring her hair up. Magic was used to keep it styled. 

She was finally allowed out of her room and she entered the sitting room to see it rearranged. In the corner was a privacy divider. A small riser was where the table originally stood. Her eyes widened as she took in the stand behind it. The wedding dress was beautiful. The color like ivory minerals from the mountains she’d only seen in pictures in books. The top was modest with long sheer sleeves, with a corset bust and A-line skirts that flowed out. Near the bottom there was orange and gold stitching in the shape of vines and leaves.

“Do you like it?” A soft voice startled her. 

She turned and saw The Lady stood behind her. Nesta had never been this close to her before. She was beautiful, auburn hair in soft waves cascading down over her shoulders. Her russet eyes were bright despite the shadows under them. Nesta wasn’t this close last night to see there was a hollowness in her cheeks. She wondered if her appearance was the future that awaited her if she stayed in this court too long. 

“It’s beautiful,” Nesta replied honestly. 

“I wish Lord Rhysand had allowed you to come try it on,” she looked past Nesta at the gown. “I’m sure your sisters would have loved to see you in it. After.” She paused. “My son deserved an engagement period. However, his father was of the opinion this might be another trick of the Night Court. We’ve already had a tarnished betrothal. Beron does not want to risk another.” 

Mor. She had forgotten about her past with Autumn and Eris. Now the push to wed her off to Eris and keep her made sense. Nesta went to ask what happened with that engagement, to hear the Lady’s version of events but a knock interrupted her. A stout female entered with a covered basket. 

“Lady Áine, good to see you,” the female curtsyed. “Lady Nesta.”

This female did not lower her gaze like Opal and Lynn. Her hair was red with a touch of grey though she didn’t look much older than Nesta herself. It was the fine lines around her small russet eyes that gave any indication of her age. Nesta also realized she called the Lady of Autumn by her name: Áine. 

“This is my seamstress,” Lady Áine said with a soft smile. “Meri will help you into the dress and see if any changes are needed.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Meri,” Nesta nodded. 

“Pleasure’s mine dear,” she smiled back. “Any female willing to marry that rake of a boy has my utmost respect.”

Nesta’s eyes widened at her candor but Áine laughed. A true laugh she didn’t think was possible given the circumstances. 

“Now Meri, you’ll scare my new daughter in law into changing her mind,” Áine joked with a soft giggle. 

“If she’s half the female I’ve heard about, then it’ll take more than my nonsense to scare her off.” 

“And what have you heard of me,” Nesta furrowed her brows. 

Meri looked her over, as if she was debating with herself. 

“I heard you’re quite the dancer.” Nesta blinked, not expecting that. “Let’s get you in that dress, shall we?” 

Meri ushered her behind the screen and helped her into the dress. It fit. Almost too well, in Nesta’s opinion. There was a mirror behind the divider for her to see it first. She looked the part of a princess her mother envisioned for her so many decades ago. When she walked around the screen the Lady was sitting on the couch, legs crossed with a book in hand. She looked up and gasped, a grin forming. 

“Oh Nesta,” Áine placed the book down and watched her as Meri helped her onto the riser. “Oh it’s perfect. You’re beautiful.” 

Nesta pushed down the well of emotions building in her chest. Áine was looking up at her proudly. Like a mother should when seeing her daughter in a wedding gown. But Áine was not her mother. This wasn’t a real wedding. But maybe she could pretend selfishly. Just this once. She gave her a polite smile in return while Meri went to work and circled around her once to look her over. 

“Hold up your arm.” 

She did as instructed. Meri started pinning fabric along her forearm to tighten the fit. She then did the same with the other. Áine filled the silence by making small conversation and commentating every now and then on something Meri missed. That left Nesta to stand in relative silence which she didn’t mind. A few minutes passed and Meri stood up.

“Not too bad; a few quick changes- nothing drastic. I’ll return with it in a few hours.” Meri smiled at her.

She helped Nesta off the riser. Behind the screen she eased the dress off of Nesta, mindful of the pins she placed. Once Nesta was back in her robe, Meri bid them both a good morning and promised to return when it was time. That left her alone with Áine again. The older female must have sensed her unease, as she patted the seat on the couch next to her. Nesta sat down beside her and Áine placed a hand over her own. 

“You’re brave, Nesta Archeron.” She whispered, eyes pleading with Nesta to read between her words. “The walls have ears, so I shall not say more.”

“Thank you.” What else was there to say? Nesta decided to change the subject. “I am not familiar with fae weddings. Would you mind going over the ceremony with me?” 

Áine nodded. “I think we should have some tea first.” 

Without much effort, she used magic to make a tray appear. A tea pot, two cups, a cream pitcher and sugar. There was also more fruit and what looked like small sandwiches. Áine served the tea. Nesta looked away when the sleeve of her dress rose up her arm. She was too afraid of what she might accidentally see. 

“Sugar?” She asked, bringing Nesta’s attention back to her. 

“No thank you,” she replied politely. 

Nesta was given a look that she could only describe as a stern mother’s knowing look. However she did not add sugar as requested. She handed Nesta the cup and saucer and poured her own. 

“My husband will have to escort you, since you have no family here to present you.” 

Nesta leaned into her tea cup to keep from spitting out the carpet. Gods she would have to endure Beron again. She continued. 

“There will be a priestess. She will recite the vows in the Autumn tongue and bind your hand to my son’s with a silk ribbon. You’ll make your own vows to each other. Then we will hold a reception.” 

“Will I need to prepare vows?” Her anxiety tumbled in the pit of her stomach. 

Áine shook her head. “There is a standard vow of the Vanserra family. The priestess will speak it and ask you to repeat it.”

That felt like a weight removed from her shoulders. Though her anxiety didn’t fizzle. She at least didn’t have to worry about fumbling to remember, she still needed to make sure she didn’t mess up. Áine seemed to sense the whirling in her mind. She sat down her cup and sauce and gave her a soft smile. 

“Tell me Nesta, do you like to read?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A knock came. Nesta looked up from the Sellyn Drake book she’d been reading for the last few hours. It felt too early to be getting ready but she‘d been reading for some time. She placed the book Lady Áine had given her, opened and facedown to save her spot onto the table. She tightened her robe just in case and opened the door. Before her was one of the brothers. Asher. Up close, she could see he looked more like his mother than Beron. And while she had called him stalky, she realized it was simply that he was more broader in the shoulders than the Eris. He did not greet her with a smile. 

“I brought you a visitor.” 

He stepped to the side and Nesta inhaled sharply. 

“Elain?”

Her sister came up and embraced her tightly. Nesta was in too much of a shock to do much other than hug her in return. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Asher grumbled.

He left and Elain let her go, so Nesta stepped aside to let her in and shut the door. She stared at her sister as she looked around the room, eerily calm while she took in her surroundings. Nesta noted she wore a warm yellow dress- like the color of the leaves that littered the ground when she arrived. 

”What are you doing here?” Nesta finally found her voice. 

Elain turned to her, her expression neutral. “Rhys is with the High Lord. He will be joining us shortly.”

Nesta blinked. “Rhysand is here?”

“It would have looked poorly for your family to not be present. I believe that is the excuse he’s giving Beron. Really, we didn’t want you to do this alone.”

Nesta felt her heart harden, her features returning to the stony demeanor she so casually used her whole life. She saw the flash of fear in her sister’s eyes as she braced herself for the worst Nesta could offer. And yet Nesta could not force herself to be angry, she couldn’t even force herself to remain steady with a cool indifference. 

“Will it just be you and Rhys?” She asked instead and Elain nodded. “Cassian didn’t wish to attend?”

”He would have slaughtered everyone in attendance.” Elain whispered. “He wanted to come. Rhys talked him out of it. He asked him to stay with Feyre.” That did nothing to ease the knot in her stomach. “Azriel has not returned yet. Feyre, well she’s with healers as we speak, not that she’s allowed to winnow.”

Right, the healers that Nesta was bargained for. She wondered how Eris snuck them out with the wedding. Maybe they would return in time to not even be missed. Elain sat down on the closest end of the couch. She looked up at her sister with her sad doe eyes. 

“Rhys has no idea the consequences of the decisions he is making.”

Nesta frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Elain didn’t answer her question. She stared at the empty dress holder. Instead, she asked another of her own. 

“Is your gown being tailored?” 

“It is.” 

Nesta went around and took her place back on the opposite end of the couch, curling up on it while ensuring the robe stayed in place. She thenpicked her book back up and opened it. It felt rude to ignore her sister but what else did she have to say? 

“Are these your permanent quarters?” Elain asked as if to spite her for trying to read. 

“I hope so. His are across the hall. I shutter to think about being forced to share a bed every night with him.” 

“He’s no worse than what you bedded in Valeris.” 

Nesta’s head jerked up and Elain bursted out with a laugh. Nesta kicked her which made Elain laugh harder. 

“I am not wrong,” she giggled. 

Surprisingly, Nesta laughed too. She couldn’t remember the last time her and Elain acted like true sisters. It was long before their mother passed. If Nesta was honest with herself, it was nice Elain wasn’t handling her with gloves. Or worse, for Nesta to be too defensive. 

“I suppose not,” she sighed, her laughter dying down.

They spent the next hour talking, Elain asking subtle questions about Nesta’s time at the house so far. She explained how dinner was interesting but didn’t go into detail beyond the brothers rude remarks. If the Lady was right and the walls had ears, she had to be careful. Even Eris had warned once already. 

“Your hair is beautiful. Do you do it yourself?” Elain’s gaze went to the rose clip. 

“Opal and Lynn did my hair. They’re a lot like Nuala and Cerridwen. They don’t really talk to me.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Opal talks the most. I think I only heard Lynn tell me her name.”

“They will open up to you, I’m sure.” Elain gave a polite smile. 

Another knock came. This time she didn’t have to wonder who it was. She put her book away, resigned to reading it later and answered the door. As expected Asher had once again came this time with Rhysand. 

“Rhys,” Nesta greeted him with no emotion, letting him into the room. 

“Nesta.” He nodded in return. 

They were silent, the three of them, once the door shut. So much it was almost deafening. Rhys sighed loudly and took a seat on the couch. Nesta wanted to roll her eyes. 

“Are you to walk me down the aisle?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms. “Or however the customs for weddings are in this realm?”

”Yes, Nesta.” He glanced up at her. He looked tired but not as tired as he did before she left. “I know that I haven’t been the kindest to you. But I am eternally grateful for what you’re doing.”

”I’m not doing it for you,” she hissed back. 

“I know. For that I am even more grateful.”

She bristled even if she didn’t understand why it bothered her so. She was certainly not sitting next to him. So she held her robe tight and grabbed the chair that had been pushed to the side and brought it forward. When she was seated, she looked over to him again. 

“Beron asked me to show him where Velaris was when I arrived. I told him I couldn’t read a map.”

Rhys and Elain both snorted a laugh. Nesta decided right then she may as well come clean and admit the other things she said. 

“I also told him I wasn’t allowed to leave the house as punishment, when he asked how the governing system worked for Velaris.” Their laughter stopped and she stared at the floor. “I- I said some things about Feyre I didn’t mean. I also said you were jumping at the chance to be rid of me.” 

“That’s why he was shocked to see us.” She could feel Rhys staring at her, probably glaring. His tone however was neutral when he said, “Thank you for protecting the city, Nesta.”

She looked up in shock. “You’re not angry with me?” 

“I’m too tired to be angry,” Rhy shrugged, picking at his suit. “Beron has already put forth his demands now that our courts are ‘better aligned’. I told him I was only here because my mate insisted someone be present. If he wanted to talk business, we would do it later.”  

Thankfully there was yet another knock. Nesta didn’t have to bother getting the door this time, even as she stood to answer it. Meri came in and abruptly halted as the door shut. 

“Oh,” Meri’s eyebrows rose on her forehead. She curtsyed deep in front of Rhys. “High Lord. I wasn’t expecting-“

“It’s alright,” Rhys waved a hand as Meri straightened herself back up. “I wanted to surprise my sister. No one knew we’re coming.” 

It didn’t seem to put her at ease. She glanced nervously at Nesta and Nesta nodded in return. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Made a few adjustments, but it should fit her just right.” Meri waved her hand and the dress appeared on the stand. 

Elain gasped, looking it over. “Oh Nesta, that’s beautiful.” 

“Wait until you see it on her,” Meri said proudly. 

Nesta wished Áine had returned with her, as she followed Meri behind the screen. She couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be in the same room as Rhys. Which made Nesta resent him just a little bit more. Meri helped her into the dress; the small changes made it so it fit her even better than before. She came around the screen while Meri held up the train and Elain gasped again. There were tears in her sister's eyes. Like this was the only wedding dress Nesta would ever be in. Even Rhys smiled. There was a scratch at her mental wall. She opened it and heard Feyre. 

Nesta, you’re beautiful. She could hear tears in her sister's voice. 

Thank you.

I love you Nesta. I love you so much. I need you to know that- 

Nesta shut the window in her mind. Any longer and hearing Feyre cry would leave her a sobbing mess as well. Besides, Nesta didn’t deserve that confession of love from Feyre. Not really. It would take more than marrying the enemy for Nesta to deserve an ounce of her love. So she held head high and pretended Rhys wasn’t frowning at her for shutting out Feyre.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Meri said and took one last walk around Nesta. Nesta forced a smile as she came back around. “The captain will escort you and your family to the temple, at the request of Lord Eris.”

“Captian?” Rhys asked, leaning his elbows onto his knees. As if it would make him less threatening. 

“Captain of the guard,” she replied curtly. “He’s outside the door.” If Rhys was offended by her response he didn’t show it. “Shall I let him in? The ceremony is soon.”

“Of course,” Rhys spoke for them.

It was a blessing she kept her eyes from rolling. Meri curtsyed before wishing Nesta the best of luck and left out the door. As promised a male entered. He had brown hair and deep brown eyes, though he was not as pale as the rest of those in Autumn. 

The male bowed. “I’m Captain Rowen Garlian, the general gave me the pleasure of escorting this beautiful female to the temple.” 

“General?” Nesta frowned, noting how her stomach flipped, immediately thinking of Cassian. 

“Lord Eris,” he replied. 

“Right, apologies,” she said. 

Eris was a general? The cauldron was surely making fun of her at this point. A scrap came against her mind walls. She wanted to ignore it but opened a window against her better judgment. 

You’re supposed to be happy, so maybe act like it. Rhys hissed into her mind. 

She slammed her walls shut. As if she had forgotten. If there were still gods they surely hated Nesta, for her to have to suffer these men- males, she corrected herself- like this. Elain stood, drawing her attention. She seemed worried but quickly schooled her features. 

“Shall we?” 

Politeness never sounded forced from her. 

Before they left Rhys threw some magic on her- to keep the dress clean or so he said. She opted to believe it when Elain nor the guard had any comments. It was a long and quiet walk. They saw no one in the halls as they passed, which Nesta found strange. They followed the captain out a different door than the main hall entrance. 

She was again struck by how beautiful the trees in autumn were. Just ahead across a wide path was the temple. It too, looked to be a large tree, the stones covered in moss and a grove in the back with the leaves casting a silhouette. There was a male at the door as they approached. It was Piran, she remembered. Unlike last night he was far more subdued, not looking any of them in the eyes. It made Nesta sick to her stomach. 

“High Lord,” he bowed. “If you will come wait in the foyer, I will escort Lady Elain to her seat.” 

Elain turned and came up to Nesta. She gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. She then followed Piran into the temple and behind them, her and Rhysand followed. The captain did not follow them in. It was a small closed off foyer, sconces all on the walls to illuminate where there were no windows. Piran held out his arm and together they slipped through the door. Nesta was standing too far to the left to see inside but heard the chatter. 

She wanted to vomit. 

“You can do this,” Rhys whispered. “I believe in you.” 

“I’m surprised,” Nesta whispered back. “Considering you think I fuck everything else up.” 

Rhys rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Piran came back out and wordlessly nodded to them. Rhys held out his arm and Nesta begrudgingly took it. They came to the door and the sanctuary was full, everyone silencing as she appeared in the doorway with Rhys. Only a soft piano played to fill the silence. Her stomach flipped again as all eyes went to her but she bit the inside of her cheek.

She held her head high and focused her gaze forward on the Priestess ahead. Her heart ached for Gwyn and Emerie, wishing they could be there for her. As she walked arm in arm with Rhysand, she dared to glance at Eris. She could admit he looked handsome. The outfit he adorned was different from his usual attire. A long, sleeveless burnt orange robe with what seemed to be red detailing. Under that was a long sleeved white shirt. The sleeves appeared puffy and were cuffed at the wrists. The sleeves also adorned the same threading details her dress had. In another life, this is the wedding she would have wanted. 

Maybe in another life, he would have been the groom she wanted too. 

She also admitted he was a good actor; in that moment he seemed stunned at her, like a real groom would. She watched his gaze run over her and when his soft amber eyes met hers, even at a distance he looked away. Like he wasn’t supposed to be staring at her. Like she had caught him even though his staring was technically warranted. She tried to not frown. When they reached the end, Eris gave Rhysand a nod and then held out his left hand to Nesta. 

For a split moment, she thought about not taking it. It felt too permanent. As if this was her choice to make and by doing so, would change everything. Elain’s voice rang in her mind from earlier about the consequences for the choices being made. But they were not hers to make. 

Without another thought she took his hand in her own. 

The time did not stop for her. The world did not flip in on itself. He helped her up onto the rise and she stood before him. The Priestess smiled at her, the stone on her forehead flashing from the lit sconces. Eris did not let her go as the Priestess started to speak in a language Nesta did not know. She tried to pull her hand away but Eris held a firm grip on it. 

The Priestess nodded and Eris lifted their hands up. She pulled a deep green ribbon from her pocket and began to wrap it around Nesta and Eris’s hands. She still was speaking what Nesta remembered Áine called the ancient Autumn language. She watched it as it was wound snug around their joined hands. She swore the ribbon glowed the more that was added. Finally a bow was tied and the Priestess let it go. 

She spoke normally. “I will ask you both to repeat the vow. This vow is not bound by magic but bound by duty and love you share with each other.” 

Nesta bit her tongue again. The priestess continued. 

“You, Eris Vanserra, promise to be a righteous and dutiful husband. You honor the Vanserra family and the Autumn Court through this marriage with Nesta Archeron. You ask the mother to bless this union between you, to guide you to be a pillar of support for herself and for the family you will create.”

Even Eris looked like he had been biting his tongue. He stared directly into Nesta’s eyes as he spoke, repeating what the priestess said. 

“You, Nesta Archeron, promise to be a righteous and dutiful wife. You honor your family, your former home in the Night Court, and your new home here in the Autumn Court through this marriage with Eris Vanserra. You ask the mother to bless this union, to guide you as you serve and support your new husband. You ask The Mother to bless your womb so you may honor her image through the children you will bear.”

Nesta tensed at the last part. Words felt heavy on her tongue though she did not show it as she repeated the words. She nearly stumbled on the ‘serve and support’ and her stomach churned again as she repeated the last bit. 

The ribbon glowed, glittering and in an instant lighting aflame. Nesta gasped; in the ribbon’s place were two solid rings. 

“It is my honor to be the vessel that pronounces you, by The Mother, husband and wife.” 

The Priestess smiled and the room erupted into applause. There was no romantic gesture on Eris’s part. He let go of her hand gently and offered his arm as he faced the aisle towards the door. In a daze, she took it. As they walked past her sister and Rhys she noticed Elain watched her while Rhys glowered at Eris. It was when they exited the door that the reality of the situation truly hit her. 

She entered that temple as an Archeron and walked out of it as a Vanserra. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Next Chapter

General Tag List: @mybestfriendmademe @hieragalbatorixdottir If you want to be added, let me know.

[astariondisapproves]

"You, my love, are a genius."

I breathe out a relaxed sigh as I lean back against the tub wall, sinking further into the pleasantly warm water.

Said genius of a man had come up to me while at camp, telling me to follow him for a surprise he had planned. And I was indeed surprised when I saw he was taking me to the most luxurious bath house I have ever seen.

Opening my eyes to look over at Astarion, as he relaxed beside me.

"The only thing missing is a nice bottle of wine."

-🌻

(Slight of hand check: Successful) As if by magic, a goblet filled with wine rests between your index and thumb, and a very pleased Astarion sits at the edge of the tub adorned in nothing but a silk robe that was barely tied around his waist, his fingers dipped into the warmth of the water, just barely grazing the soft of your thigh—a cheeky smile playing at his lips. His free hand had the matching goblet, and he swirls it slowly with a swish of his wrist.

"Careful, darling, you might spill that. I snatched it from Gale's stash, so you know it's good."

He says nonchalantly and raises the goblet to his lips, taking a sip and savoring the flavor on his tongue before swallowing, as if disregarding the fact he took Gale's prized wine.

"Mm—not bad. But I do know what would taste much better..."

Astarion's voice became hushed—sultry, and his crimson eyes narrowed hungrily, studying you. The fingers that dipped below the waters surface now brushed along your skin, testing your reaction, prickling you with goosebumps.

"That is if you'll allow me..."

He says, voice low, his crimson eyes now locked on yours. The goblet of wine that was in his hand was now resting on the table beside the tub as he brought that hand to his tied waistband. (Insight check: Successful) He's waiting for your move.

[siremasterlawrence]

Moonlight On The High Seas

Leon Wild is a pirate on the high seas of the Atlantic Ocean well known for his bloody ire, harsh attitude and corruption consuming the world in dramatic fashion of horrific odds scenes.

He stood proud on his pirate ship using his binocular telescope reaching for it in his coat pocket he yanks it out elongating it to full form and places it on his eyes as he stares ahead on him.

Staring in to the see he can see the moon in all its glory the moonlight dances across the dark blue sea delicately free flowing for all to see and he is mesmerized unable to look away.

He is immobile at this point frozen I place his eyes growing a bit dim getting narrow he is starting to peer down seeing something very strange in the sea a wave of hand from in the ocean.

He is lost at the sight of a started looking boi well odd to him flowing in extremely high and fast speeds under the ocean as he flips upward and leaps in to the air then landing in to the ocean.

He dips down descending just a bit with his fin in the air it swings back and forth right in front of his eyes Captain Wild is in a deep like state catching his eyes their is magical glow to it.

The Captain’s eyes are now glued to the sea creature he walks forward ignoring the call of his crew closer and closer to get edge of the boat the sea man smiles so brightly at him.

He calls him using his hand to urge him to the edge of the boat he walks forward ever so closer to him and he falls absolutely in a state of love and pleasure to fully consume him.

The water suddenly rises up from the ocean in to the sky it floats in an encircling pattern on and around him changing into a colorful multiracial of arrays of covers to wave him on.

“Captain! Captain NO!” The crew screams as they race to his side trying to hold him back.

“I have to walk to him, I must be with him.” He begins to murmur a bit to himself but it only grows louder.

The crew is frighten for his life arranging on all four sides of him as they try to push him propelling him back.

Captain launches them back continuing to move to the only person that matters to him his true leader.

“Captain resist”

“Please wait for me”

“WAIT”

“Yes! I am on my way “

“Here I go”

He strips off his clothes bathing in the white light of the moon taking a plunge into the ocean and the mermaid takes his hand as they swim away.

“Yes, enter in to the void be like your ex Captain.”

The end

Debauchery Of The Night

It is a cool crips winter night in the darkness

with the air swirling as people enter the Lord of the manors Prince Leon sitting on a table awaiting the change that is happening all over the world.

He has no idea I am the young man who is bringing the massive mammoth of a wave that has brought down all of the last of the royal families and their connections in our existence.

The great hall soon fills up to the brim of the wall covering the area radius wall to wall in a great fan fair of excitement to meet the Prince himself enters with a power radiating from him.

He hops onto the chair sliding onto the main table in the great hall he starts to do a slow sweet dance so sexy he feels himself grow more confident with himself he lifts his pale hands in the air.

He pumps his fist in the air signaling for the event to commence as the trumpets sound loudly blaring through the window the whole entirety of the country shouts uniting in his and their downfall.

A few miserable hours earlier people were at work trudging around doing their daily jobs and activities exhausted from the grind of simplicity and complexes of what we truly experiment.

Barrels of lights hit including the spotlight

from the sky roof shining down on him as he is now given an aura of golden glow making him look all saintly because he is indeed a devil.

He hops off the dinner table dancing across the room as the spotlight hits him yet again as he attracts people to swoon through the hall the music addictive quickly swooping them up.

A young man takes the stage of the great room in the state picking up a microphone he begins to speak informing the crowd to keep dancing and to listen without a care of the world.

“Hey Prince Andrew! Great Party! You forgot one thing.”

“I would love to give you a gift”

“Would you like it?”

“Bring it on! Bring it on”

“Everyone silence! In three…two…one”

“Drop that shit down”

“Hell yeah!”

“That is glorious”

“Magical! What a beautiful sensation”

“By the way this is for one night only”

“The moon is being roped to you “

“The cracks, the lines all a sight to behold”

“Worthy of a king”

“Indeed”

“Sure you concur”

“What are you thinking?”

“I….i….why can’t I…..hahaha”

“Because you miserable oaf! I you met the orb of doom”

“Enjoy your final thoughts”

“The fog is eclipsing it all”

“Infact all you can do it be him”

“The dumb party animal”

“Everyones favorite Prince”

“A joke”

“This my kingdom now”

The end

[phoenixfl3009]

Some random light-hearted Fizzarozzie comfort following the events of Mammon’s Mid-Season Musical. Not sure what I’m gonna do with it yet, but I really wanted them to have a talk about “what’s next” and I liked it too much not to share. Enjoy!

Ozzie hummed solemnly whilst drawing his index decadently along the rim of his own glass. With every passing swipe, Fizz could feel himself becoming more and more entranced, indeed to the point he very nearly forgot they were having a conversation. It was only when Ozzie decided to break his silence, his voice as soft and as fragile as glass, that Fizz’s senses returned to him.

“Are you…having second thoughts? About everything?”

About us. The words, while unspoken, hung heavy in the air, weighing on Fizz’s mind and body alike, to the point he felt as though he couldn’t breathe. His heart physically ached at the mere notion that Ozzie would ever wonder such a thing.

“No!” Fizz answered, instantaneously. His voice reverberated clearly throughout the confines of their personal bath and Fizz outwardly cringed, partially at the sound of his voice, but more-so in response to just how obscenely loud it was against his own ears. The change in temperament was so drastic, Fizz all but witnessed his tail create a vice around the chimera’s wrist, to the point he was all but certain it was obstructing Ozzie’s blood flow. Ozzie didn’t appear to notice, seemingly more taken aback by Fizz’s words than his actions. Closing the distance between them, Fizz brought a hand to cup the side of Ozzie’s face, relishing in the blessed warmth of the other’s body. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You saved my life. You gave me purpose again. I’ll never regret that.” He said, sternly, his eyes brimming with emotion. “I’ll never regret you.”

Ozzie blinked, brow furrowing. From his current vantage, Fizz couldn’t discern what exactly the Sin was feeling in that moment as his features betrayed nothing. His other heads, however, weren’t nearly as discreet and Fizz could see the concern shining through their eyes as they beheld the demon they adored more than life itself.

Water rippled as Ozzie brought his hand to overlap Fizz’s own and Fizz openly preened underneath the Sin’s proferred warmth. “So, what are you worried about then?”

Fizz worried his lower lip between his teeth and turned away, staring out into the vast cityscape, as if it would magically provide an answer. Then, he uttered a sigh before surrendering himself to the Sin; his face finding sanctuary within the space between Ozzie’s neck and shoulder.

“I just don’t know what to do now.” Fizz confessed softly into soft, navy plumage. “I’m a performer. It’s who I am, it’s what I’m good at. I used to think I would perform until the day I died, but after everything that happened at the pageant, I’m not so sure it’s what I really want anymore.” Fizz’s breathing hitched wetly as the lump in his throat expanded, cutting off his airflow briefly as he desperately clung to the Sin. “And that scares me because if I’m not ‘Fizzarolli, the jester,’ then who am I?”

A hand, firm but gentle, came to rest along the curve of Fizz’s back, serving as an anchor of sorts as the imp surrendered himself fully to his own emotions; his worries and anxieties; his fears. His body trembled, sending minor ripples throughout the bath as he fought to maintain his breathing. Through it all, Ozzie remained steadfast, whispering gentle reassurances while drawing soothing circles into a patch of unmarred flesh.

“You want to know who you are?” Ozzie asked, and that same softness from before returned tenfold. Except this time, Fizz was relieved to find none of the pained uncertainty; there was only love and tenderness in the other’s voice.

“You’re you,” The Sin supplied evenly. “You’re not Mammon’s brand baby, and you’re so much more than ‘just’ my boyfriend—you’re you, and you’ll always be you, no matter what.” Ozzie went on to say, speaking with such conviction that his words couldn’t be construed as being anything less than objective fact; he truly believed everything he was saying and would gladly lay waste to any who opposed him. To be regarded with such sincerity, and by the man he loved no less, was more than Fizz felt he deserved.

Instead of pulling away, however, Fizz leaned further into Ozzie’s touch and clung to the Sin tightly, relishing the silken glide of feathers splaying across his cheek with a dreamy sigh.

“You think so?” Fizz asked, a touch uncertain, to which Ozzie proceeded to flash the imp with a small, intimate smile and brought his head down to rest against the other’s temple.

“I know so.” Ozzie said, causing a tuft of flame to escape from between his lips. It briefly took the shape of a heart before dissolving into thin air—mere seconds before the two met each other for a tender kiss.

[multifandomfanfiction]

Under the Black Lake

TITLE: Under the Black Lake PAIRING: Draco/OC (if you squin) RATING: T CHAPTER: One-shot SUMMARY: Fayina is just like any other magical girl, only she's not.

[A/N - Inspired by a comment made by Ominous Gaunt in "Hogwarts Legacy".]

To say that Fayina Donohue didn’t belong in Slytherin would be an understatement. She was quiet, reserved, and hardly ever displayed the traits that were most commonly associated with Slytherin.

Most days, if she wasn’t in class, she could be found staring out of the glass windows.

It was common to tell first years that mermaids often swam past the windows, but of course that was just a lie that older students told them to keep them occupied. The Giant Squid could be seen swimming in the distance some days, but they never saw mermaids.

“She’s just as loony as that Lovegood girl,” she heard Pansy Parkinson say.

Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini were with her.

“She’s a wicked Potions partner though,” Blaise said.

“I say that if she wants to stare out the window all day, let her,” Draco told them.

The trio left the common room, probably on their way to the library or the Great Hall.

Once the common room was clear, Fayina started singing softly under her breath.

A webbed hand came up from below and touched the glass.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fayina was walking near the Black Lake when she heard a scream. She ran towards the lake and found a small first or second year splashing in the water.

The more the boy thrashed, the further he was swept out.

Fayina threw her stuff down and pulled off her cloak. Before she could get in the water, a hand grabbed her arm.

“Don’t.”

She looked up and saw Draco Malfoy.

“Let a teacher handle it.”

She shrugged his hand off and dove into the water. The moment she touched the water, her clothes faded away and her legs fused into a tail. She swam towards the boy.

“Shhh,” Fayina cooed. She started singing a song her mother had taught her as a child.

Draco watched as the boy stopped thrashing around. He also could swear he heard singing.

Fayina took the boy in her arms and she was able to lead him closer to shore.

A few people came running and helped the boy out of the water.

Fayina needed the shore to clear so she could dry off, but she kept an eye on the boy.

Draco glanced at the water. He saw a head of dark hair disappear under the water and a flash of a shimmering tail.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When the shore was empty, Fayina pulled herself onto land. She pulled her wand out of her bag and whispered a spell under her breath. Her clothes returned and she was bone dry.

The spell had been passed down through the generations of Donohue women.

Fayina grabbed her bag and made her way back to the castle.

Draco approached Fayina in the common room. “I know what I saw,” he told her.

She looked at him.

“How did you do it?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to an alcove near the windows. She cast a spell over them so they wouldn’t be overheard.

“Long ago, a mermaid wished to be human…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “A fairytale? Really?”

Fayina glared at him. “It’s not a fairytale. It’s my life.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“This mermaid made a bargain with a sea witch. In order for this mermaid to remain human, she would need to marry someone with magic within the year. If she did not, she would return to the sea as foam. The mermaid did indeed marry someone with magical blood and gave birth to a daughter. But what she didn’t know was that the sea witch had cursed her. Her bloodline would only give birth to daughters, no sons. And if those daughters did not marry someone with magical blood by their 21st birthday, they would return to the sea as foam.”

“So…you’re a mermaid?”

“Well, half.”

“So any contact with water causes this?”

“Only when submerged. I can still shower and everything, but if I were to take a bath…tail.”

Fayina glanced around the common room and found it mostly empty. She turned to the glass and softly sang under her breath.

Draco watched in amazement as a mermaid floated into view.

The mermaids in the Black Lake looked nothing like the mermaids in the fairytales. Not like Fayina.

“How come you don’t look like that?” Draco asked, “Your tail is beautiful by the way.”

Fayina blushed. “The Black Lake mermaids look like that because of their environment. Evolution and everything. My family is from a country filled with coral and brightly colored fish. Helps us blend better.”

“Are all mermaids related?”

Fayina shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. We’re more like distant cousins really. Especially with all the magical blood. We’re barely mermaids by most standards.”

Draco stepped towards her, backing her up against the glass. “Is that why you were sorted into Slytherin? Your fishy little secret?”

Fayina tried to keep a straight face, but burst out laughing. “Fishy little secret? Really?”

Draco’s cheeks and ears burned. “Alright. Stop laughing at me before a douse you in water.”

Fayina’s mouth dropped open and she narrowed her eyes. “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

Draco smirked. “Ah. That’s why.”

“Draco!” Blaise shouted from across the common room, “Quidditch practice!”

“Go,” Fayina told him.

“This isn’t over Donohue.”

“I look forward to continuing our conversation, Malfoy.”

[girl-among-mts]

3. Snow

The couple’s suite was indeed worth the extra credits.

Rose swooned at the entrance to the room's refresher: all warm tones and rustic and complete with a metal, free-standing soaking tub.

“It’s been *so long* since I’ve had a real bath.”

“You *are* aware this isn’t some holiday, yes?” Hux said tersely, frowning at the simple yet cozy surroundings. “We have /objectives/.”

“Yeah, but you said we weren’t heading out until tomorrow anyway,” Rose countered with a shrug, dropping her pack at the foot of the large bed. “We have no idea what we’ll be stumbling into up there. We should relax while we have the chance.”

“That is not—”

The growled argument died in Hux’s throat. Instead, he made a dismissive motion with a gloved hand, turning from her. “Do what you want.”

Like she’d do anything else.

Besides, the hot mineral water that flowed from the wall tap into the tub was near-magical. Better than anything she’d felt in maybe forever.

The tension from their travels melted away, and Rose didn’t leave until the water had gone tepid.

It was still raining outside when she finally emerged, the sound of the storm louder with the balcony door open.

Across the room, Hux was leaning in the open space there, cigarra smoke curling into the damp night.

“Sheesh,” she muttered, drying her hair with a towel. “Does it ever do anything but rain here? Maybe a bit of sunshine? Snow, even?”

Hux dropped the stub of his cigarra, grinding it into the balcony’s wet, duracrete floor with the toe of his boot before closing the door.

“There is snow. At higher elevations…” His voice was almost wistful then, but once he turned to see her, everything went cold. “Must you always traipse around in varying degrees of indecency?”

“Oh whatever,” Rose rebuffed, trying not to roll her eyes. He was such a prude. Judging her for walking around in her skivvies like he hadn’t been in the kriffing military his whole life.

Rose extracted their datapad from her bag, ignoring his glaring as she sat down on the plush bed.

“I’m going to check our messages and then I’m hitting the hay,” she said as a way to end the conversation.

With an unintelligible mutter he stalked past her, clanging the fresher door closed behind him. It was then Rose did roll her eyes.

Such melodrama.

[lostywrites]

Summary:

The Hidden Ones encounter a mysterious traveller from Azeroth. Recognising an opportunity to expand their influence and forge new alliances, they appoint Basim Ibn Ishaq, a devoted disciple, as their representative.

In a realm where ancient lore and magic are as tangible as the air he breathes, Basim must rely on his wits, skills, and newfound connections to fulfill his mission and unlock secrets that could change the fate of both worlds.

A Warcraft/Assassin's Creed Mirage crossover fic. Set before the events of Dragonflight and Valhalla.

Pairing: Basim/OC

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - The White Pawn

"Pardon my curiosity, but what has led a king to forsake his throne and shroud himself in secrecy?" Basim asked as they navigated through the thick underbrush.

The king paused, taking a moment of introspection before replying, "My return from the Shadowlands have left me...in need of solitude. I needed time to reflect, to understand the person I've become, accept what I've done...it's only here, away from everyone else I could truly find the strength to face my own inner demons..." he confessed, his voice tinged with melancholy.

"The Shadowlands?" Basim echoed. The king's eyes however held a story untold, a narrative heavy with trauma.

Choosing to keep his personal story private, especially from someone he'd just met, Anduin simply said, "It's a cautionary tale for another time, one I'm not yet prepared to share." His gaze then drifted to the concealed cave entrance ahead, camouflaged by the wild embrace of vines and moss. With a silent gesture, he invited Basim to follow him further into the depths of his secluded haven.

The cave maintained a moderate temperature, bathed in the serene glow of crystals embedded into its rough-hewn walls, creating a calming ambience within the rugged environment.

Basim's eyes scanned over the king’s humble hideout dotted with an array of books, maps, and rolled up parchments, hinting at ongoing plans and studies. Finding a place at a sturdy wooden table, he settled quietly and watched as Anduin moved about the space.

Moments later, Anduin approached the table, carrying two cups and a jug brimming with something oddly luminescent yet a refreshing sight.

“Shukran,” Basim said with a grateful nod, taking the cup handed to him. The beverage was pure and seemingly blessed with restorative qualities, as though he was drinking from the well of Zamzam, brought an immediate sense of rejuvenation. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, dispelling the lingering fogginess and the oppressive humidity that clung on to him from the island's dense atmosphere. “Aah, it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted water this good.”

Anduin smiled, pleased with Basim's reaction. "The Kal'dorei have a way with nature's gifts," he explained. "It's said to have healing properties, and from what I've seen, I'm inclined to believe it. But each time I take a sip of their sacred water, I can't help but remember the tragedy at Teldrassil, the loss of so many innocent lives..." The king's voice tapered off, the deep-seated sorrows of wars past casting a shadow over his thoughts.

"I have heard about the Burning of Teldrassil," Basim said. "During my time in the Cathedral of Light, I had the honour of meeting the night elven children. Despite everything they've been through, their resilience is extraordinary, unlike anything I've witnessed before."

"Indeed they are," the king replied, his smile returning. And his curiosity was directed towards Basim now. "You know, in my time as an Alliance king, I've had the privilege of meeting people from all walks of life. I pride myself on being able to distinguish an outsider from a native. And you, my mysterious friend, don't strike me as a simple merchant from the 'Far East'.”

Basim’s voice deepened, the mask of Gilgamesh fading, revealing his true self, "You have a sharp eye. It is true that I have disguised myself as a merchant to cover the true purpose of my journey here. A purpose that's greater than myself.”

More on Ao3

[dailycharacteroption]

Planar Tour Guide: The Plane of Shadow part 2

(art by Remi Portmann on Artstation)

Geography

True to it’s name, the Plane of Shadow, or Netherworld, if you prefer, is a place of darkness, varying by a vague twilight and complete pitch blackness. When there is light, the source isn’t discernable, and the shadows of objects regularly shift and twist like black fingers reaching out from their source. Indeed, that alone makes the plane a forboding and unsettling place for daylighters, but that is just the beginning.

The terrain of the plane is, as we mentioned yesterday, a twisted, (albeit truncated) reflection of the material plane. You might recognized the edge of a shoreline or the presence of a familiar city, but the plane of shadow has a way of warping everything familiar. Cities appear as the most sinister version of themselves, their monuments inverted in strange ways or made all the more forboding and oppressive. Places of terrible happenstance become pocket nightmares inhabited by strange shadowy beings that might reflect those terrible deeds, or just as likely were moved into the way that Material Planes monsters move into abandoned dungeons and cave networks.

But even the wide areas between such landmarks can be twisted. A sea might be filled with dry sand instead of water, a forest might be a sinister place of twisted boughs, and so on.

Of course, there are also structures built by denizens and deities alike, such as the Abbey of Nevers created by the velstrac demagogue Aroggus, as well as various shadow giant holdings carved from the warped mountain ranges, and the elegant spires of the cities of the shae.

Zon-Kuthon also has his own realm here. Xovaikain was originally his prison that he agreed to be confined within “until the sun did not shine on Golarion’s surface”, a confinement that ended all too early when Earthfall cloaked the planet in dust clouds. The realm is even more twisted than other parts of the netherworld, being a place of nightmares, oppressive terrain, magical storms, and waking hallucinations meant to sap away the will of all who enter, to say nothing of the poor victims in the prison-palace itself. Aside from the residents, visitors must also worry about the many shadowy predators that come to the region seeking an easy meal of those whose sanity and bodies have been wracked by what they experience.

Speaking of hazards, the fact that this plane has deep connections to the Negative Energy Plane means that sometimes a bit of that even deeper darkness wells up in the Netherworld (or more accurately, part of the shadow is swallowed up, leaving the consuming void in it’s place). These voidboils build up and sometimes explode outward, bathing the surroundings in consuming negative energy.

Despite how inhospitable it can be at times, there are those beings that make it home and thrive there, which we will see tomorrow! Tune in then for more!

[countrymusiclover]

37 - A Harvest Ritual

Part 38

Gemini Runaway

Tag list ask to be added @dragonixfrye @secretdreamlandmentality

I wouldn’t get tired of feeling Nik’s soft fingers running through my hair in the morning. I wouldn’t get tired of waking up in his arms. I wouldn’t get tired of his morning voice or basically anything he did from this point forward. “You better not wake me up any other way.”

“Oh really because I would have thought you’d enjoy this much more.” He whispered, leaning his head down beginning to trail kisses from underneath my ear and down to my neck until he reached my shoulder.

I shifted underneath his arms when he hovered above me smirking into my neck still kissing me. Trailing my hands up his bare chest I leaned up into the kiss. He moved one of his hands down my hip resting it there with his other hand holding his body up. “Oh I do enjoy this. So so much.” The bedroom filled with giggles and moaning from Klaus and I as we kept kissing under the bedsheets.

Rolling onto my back I sighed grinning even though neither of us needed to catch our breath. Klaus holds himself up by his elbow that rests on the pillow. "In all my years I think that being with you is the best thing I've ever done." I smiled tracing my fingers over the tattoos on his bare chest, feeling his fingers playing with my messy hair.

"I thought being a vampire was horrible at first...but it definitely has its perks " I smirked rolling over on top of him.

Pressing my lips to his he runs his hands up and down my sides, having the kiss increase. My fingers thread themselves into his blonde hair twisting it around into a mess. "Indeed it does love. And we have an eternity to do whatever the hell we want." Staring into his eyes he looked at me like I was a Queen and at times I didn't believe it to which he told me everything he loves about me.

"Nik, I have to tell you something." He rests a hand to my cheek asking with a loving smile.

“What is it, Rae?”

He shifted so he was holding himself up on his elbow watching my face as I was still very tired from the babies and everything else with it. “I just want to stay in this room for today. The three babies are being a pain. And I think they are siphoning me more than the dark magic inside my body. What do you say to that?”

“You never have to ask, Rae. We will do whatever you wish. Let’s start this way hmm. We can either lay in this bed or a bath. Then I can get you whatever you are craving, no matter how crazy it may sound. You are a queen to me and a king should take care of his queen.” He declared sitting upright on the bed grasping my hand in his bringing it to his lips kissing it softly.

Smiling at him I lay my head against the soft pillows and I stared up at his blue eyes. “How did I ever deserve you, Niklaus Mikaelson?”

“Because you bring out the light in me, Raelyn Lane.” He leans down picking me up bridal style vamping us into the bathroom. He set me down on my feet where I shrugged one of his shirts over my head along with my shorts and the rest of my clothing.

He did the same quickly removing his clothes and helping me in the water first before climbing in behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist resting his chin on my head when I laid my head on his bare chest. "This is helping, thank you." I mumbled feeling one of his hands resting on my larger stomach.

"Of course, love. I said I would never deny you anything." He smiled moving his head down kissing my shoulder closest to him. His freehand that was on my back was now running through my hair.

Lifting my head up after a few moments of silence I made a face at him. "You never gave any real answer to what you want to name the babies?"

"I already told you, darling. It's your choice. I never thought I would get the chance to have children. So it's all about you." He responded running his other hand on my stomach down to my hip, beginning to tickle my sides.

I pressed my body further against his making some of the water get thrown on the floor. "Klaus!" My hands went to rest on his shoulders where I turned my head seeing that our noses were pressing up against one another.

He paused his actions and instead moved his hand up cupping my face gently. "Rae, There’s is only one other thing that I wish we do in this life. Now that we are both immortal and all. I want you to marry me. Will you marry me, will you be my queen?"

"You have to ask that here. I mean of course. But really right here?" I asked him to rest my forehead against his messing with the dog tag necklace around his neck.

He chuckled with a smirk cupping my face with his other hand drawing our lips to meet with a kiss. My fingers found themselves in his hair tugging on the soft dirty blonde locks. "Raelyn….I'll ask you properly later." He moaned into the kiss gently pushing me onto my back on the other side of the tub with him hovering above me again.

"Nik…bite me." I gasped trying to get over the fact of what we were about to do. We hadn’t slept together really since the night he took my virginity.

He raised a brow at me, slightly surprised. "Rae sweetheart, has anyone ever said that what you are asking is a very intimate thing between vampires. I don’t want you to think that it’s something I forced upon you.”

“I’m looking at it this way. You were my first time and now we are going to be parents in a few short months. I think we’re past the point of me worrying about what is intimate and what isn’t.” Shrugging my shoulders I leaned forward kissing him softly. He tugged me to sit on his lap, never breaking the kiss until I drew back. “Plus I know your werewolf bite can kill me. But you can just feed me your blood beforehand.”

He smiles at me biting into his wrist holding it out to me. “Ladies first.” Drinking from his wrist I dropped my fingers shifting my head into the crook of his neck about to sink my fangs in until someone yelled through the mansion.

“Klaus. Raelyn, I have the witch named Sophie here. She needs to talk with us now!”

He growled vamping us downstairs dressed quietly before I saw the witch sitting in one of the chairs. Nik vamped in front of her showing his hybrid face to her. “You better have a good reason for coming here, witch!”

“Yeah I don’t understand how I am alive because I felt like I was dying a few months ago. Which can only mean that Raelyn died…but she’s clearly alive. I’d like an explanation.” The witch said in a panic, throwing her hands out in front of her.

Leaning up in my armchair I pushed Nik out of her face letting my fangs come out for her to see. “Oh I did die, Sophie. The thing you need to know is that I came back as a witch and a vampire now too.”

“Oh my god. Then that’s why the witches have been on edge and believing those stupid visions recently.” She ran her hands through her hair. “And if you were born without your own magic then you still have a small connection back to the land of the living…and the miracle babies are what are keeping me alive. Your womb is still physically alive so that is why I didn’t die. My life is now linked to your children.”

Rebekah asked, sitting in the chair beside me. “Then who were they?”

Sophie explains. “They are a faction of extremists. Sabine stupidly told them about some vision she had about the babies.”

Klaus leaned forward with his hands together. “What kind of vision?”

Sophie made a face at him. “She has them all the time. They are totally open to interpretation. I'm guessing she's wrong on this one.”

Nik reached over grabbing my hand in his when I moved to sit down again near him. “Well, how, may I ask, was this particular vision interpreted?”

Sophie declared to us. “Pretty much that your baby would bring death to all witches.”

Klaus smirked before I hit him upside the head making him glare at me. “Ah, well. I grow fonder of this child by the second.”

“In case you’re forgetting I am part witch. So don’t make our children to hate all witches since they could very well inherit it from me!” I snarled at him turning my hands into fists at my side.

Rebekah entered the conversation again. “Sophie, look, I promised Elijah that I would protect the Mikaelson miracle baby whilst he tries to win your witch Davina's loyalty. Why don't you tell me just how extreme this faction is?”

Sophie asked her. “Elijah's talking to Davina?”

Rebekah said.

Yeah. As we speak, I imagine.

Sophie responded.

I'm guessing she'll have plenty to say about that crowd…..I... wasn't always an advocate for the witches. Specifically the ritual that they call the Harvest.”

“Wait a minute. Who exactly is this girl named Davina?” I raised my hand interrupting the current conversation needing to be caught up on everything else.

Rebekah shifted to face me. “She’s about sixteen and she threw me out of a window with her bloody mind. She has too much power, more than I have ever seen. Probably almost as powerful as you, Raelyn.” She glanced over her shoulder to the other witch. “What the bloody hell is a Harvest?”

Sophie placed her hands in her lap telling the three of us simply. “It's a ritual our coven does every three centuries, so that the bond to our ancestral magic is restored. We appease our ancestors, they keep our ancestral power flowing.”

Klaus questioned her holding my hand in his. “And why haven't I heard of this?”

“Because a Harvest always seemed like a myth. A story, passed on through generations like Noah's ark, or the Buddha walking on water. The kind some people take literally, and some people don't. They had the girls of our community preparing for months. Four would be choosen for the Harvest. They said that it was an honor, that they were special. I thought it was a myth.” The witch scoffed with a rolling of her eyes.

Rebekah raised a brow at her. “Was it?”

She shook her head, slumping her shoulders. “No. It’s nothing like that. The ritual was a lie; it actually is a slaughter of the four girls chosen. They murdered the girls to gain their powers. Except the ritual didn’t happen leaving all that power to go into one person.”

“And that person was Davina.” Clicking my tongue the pieces came together. “I think it’s time that I go see this Harvest witch for myself.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[the-whumpening]

The Freed Tiger | (Ash's Recovery Arc, Part 1)

Masterpost | Next

Ash has finally been rescued by his friends and is returning home. But how free is he really, with Ozmund's conditioning still permeating his every thought?

CW: aftermath of whump/conditioning, panic attack

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It takes until returning home before everyone is able to truly take note of Ash’s condition. Though his stoic exterior briefly broke when he realized he was indeed being rescued, he has barely made a sound since. In fact, he’s barely moved at all since being loaded in the cart and wrapped in a warm blanket. But as the sun rises overhead during the journey, the damage is obvious.

Scars and bruises paint Ash’s skin. Once hidden behind shadows and dim light, the burns encircling his neck, wrists, and ankles are visible now in the bright daylight. Ash squints away from the light, shielding his eyes with a calloused, shaky hand as they finally arrive back home. Evius guides him down out of the cart and hurries him inside; Ash stumbles along beside him, sleep-deprived and confused from all the sudden changes.

“Come on, Ash.” Evius gently presses his back to urge him along. “How about a nice warm bath, hm? I can get you some of your own clothes, too.”

Ash doesn’t nod. He doesn’t react at all, really. The words enter his ears, but he doesn’t process them. His feet drag him along the path Evius sets; his consciousness has yet to catch up.

In the bathroom, Evius fills the tub and waves his hand through the water. Indigo sparkles envelop his fingers and trail behind them, heating the water in one quick swirl. A pinching, peppermint-like smell pierces Ash’s nose, jolting his brain awake. Magic. Not exactly like His magic, but similar enough to send a wave of adrenaline through Ash’s system. He shivers, a cold sweat erupting from his pores and his stomach lurching in a nauseating twist.

“Okay, all warmed up,” Evius says, his back still turned to Ash. “Do you want me to stay, or—” He turns, finding Ash pale and sweaty, clawing at the neck of his shirt. Immediately, he leaps to his feet and tries to reach for Ash, who steps back in response. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is okay. Sit down; you look like you’re going to be sick.” As if on command, Ash’s knees buckle and he slumps to the ground. Evius fans Ash’s face; the breeze helps to calm his thudding pulse.

Ash had been certain his rescue was real. But once that familiar smell hit his senses, doubt rocketed back to infect his mind. His thoughts race incoherently, lapping over one another like acidic waves, burning as they push and pull.

What’s in that water?

He must be coming soon.

Don’t think. Don’t think. Stay still, say nothing, DON’T THINK.

This isn’t real, is it? Where am I?

KILL ME ALREADY.

“Ash.”

You’re not real, either.

“Ash!”

Not real, not real, not real . . .

A gurgling sound slips through the gaps in his screaming thoughts. A drain? He cracks his eyes open just a hair, enough to see Evius emptying the bathtub. Why–?

“We can try again later when you’re feeling a little better, okay?” Evius says. He offers a hand to Ash, lifting him off the floor and supporting him under his arm.

What is he doing? What is this? As Ash tries to catch his breath, he realizes the piercing smell is gone. Did I imagine it? Or did he hide it? Neither thought is comforting, but he at least can feel his body once more and quiet the avalanche of thoughts.

Evius leads him out of the room, continuing, “Are you hungry? Or would you rather sleep?”

Choices. He hasn’t had that privilege in so long, it feels almost foreign to him. Eat when he wants? Sleep when he wants? How would he even know when he needs to? Hunger and sleep deprivation had haunted him so frequently in the last year; what does it even mean to be full or rested? How can he tell the difference between the hunger of a long day and the hunger of a week fed nothing but broth?

His mouth pops open and closed a few times, trying and failing to make a decision. No matter what he says, will Ozmund use it against him when the illusion ends? Is this a test of what he values more—what he can do without the longest?

“How about food first, then?” Evius gives him a gentle squeeze. “I know you love Krumgus’ cooking.”

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A/N: I've got a few good parts of this recovery arc done, but I've still got plenty to do and no immediate end goal. Feel free to send asks/prompts if you have thoughts or suggestions!