#Did I write this instead of chapter 2 of Lucien’s fic
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Fanfic: Barging In
Pair: Eris/Reader
Rating: T (Fluff)
Word Count: 771
Summary: Eris becomes High Lord and goes to get his mate in the middle of the night.
Notes/Warnings: Spring Court Reader. Tamlin is there but he’s not any trouble. Reader POV
Read here on ao3 or below the cut
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You’d been sleeping peacefully. It took a while to adjust back to being in your home court of Spring with Tamlin almost back to normal. You were finally able to sleep through the night most nights now. You’d been dreaming about a forest when you stilled in your dream, the smell of bonfire coming through and you looked around for the source.
You didn’t find it- you were jolted awake when you felt hands on your body. You screamed, thrashing about to get away from whatever grabbed you. Your feet hit something solid and you screamed again, trying to crawl up the bed.
“Stop kicking me! Love, it’s me!”
You stilled, panting and looking at the figure next to you. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dark and your mind to catch up with what you heard and saw. It was Eris, his red hair and skin practically glowing and illuminating the room. You didn’t remember that from the last time you saw him.
“What, Eris- why- how are you here?”
“I’m High Lord now,” he said, his voice soft and stirring that bond in your chest. “I’ve come to take you home.”
You were still stunned and confused. “In the middle of the night?” You hissed.
He grinned at you. “I can’t wait another day. Trust me. I’ll send for your things, don’t worry.”
Then Eris scooped you up out of bed and tossed you over his shoulder, still in your nightgown. You yelled again and hit his back. “Have you lost your mind?”
He only laughed at you as he carried you out into the hall. You heard the rattle of armor and guards shouting. You flushed red with embarrassment.
“Eris put me down!”
“Eris, what the hell are you doing?” You wanted to die as that voice belonged to Lord Tamlin.
“Taking my mate home,” Eris replied as if he didn’t just break several laws by barging into another High Lord’s manor.
He stopped and Tamlin called out your name. “Do you even want to go with him?” He asked. He was more calm about this than you anticipated. “Eris put her down.”
You lifted your body up, slightly dizzy and looked to see Tamlin shirtless, half laced trousers thrown on in a hurry. He was giving you an out. “I-“
Eris cut you off. “I’ll sign those trade agreements that had sat on my fathers desk for months and lower the import tariffs if you let us walk out of here right now, unscathed.”
“Eris,” you glared even if he couldn’t see your face.
Tamlin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you want to go with him, yes or no?” His question was directed at you.
You sighed. “Yes. But don’t tell anyone he hauled me out of here like a mindless brute.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tamlin sounded beyond exasperated. “Break my wards again, Eris and I will kill you.”
“Understood,” he said with a serious tone. “I’ll send you the documents in the morning. And I’ll request for her things- the right way.” He then patted your rear, making you jolt and flush again. “I’ll be taking my mate home now.”
You glared into the darkness as he proceeded to start walking again. Tamlin made eye contact with you as you both passed and you glared at him. He did nothing to hide his amusement. You couldn’t be too angry. Tamlin knew you were Eris’s mate. He knew the feelings were mutual and had known for decades.
You were certain that was the only reason he let you both walk out without another word. Eris finally pulled you off his shoulder and down into his arms when you both reached the manor doors. You hit him on his shoulder while he opened the doors and carried you into the courtyard.
“You did this on purpose,” you pouted. The sentries at the door ignored you both but you knew they were snickering to themselves.
Eris turned and whispered as he carried you past the wards. “I will make it up to you, love. Once I sign those agreements in the morning, I have nothing planned outside of keeping you in bed for the rest of the day.”
Your scent betrayed you as you thought about being with your mate for the first time in nearly a century. He grinned at you, want in his eyes and his own scent changed ever so slightly.
“Take me home,” you whispered back.
“See, I told you to trust me.” You rolled your eyes as he grinned and winnowed you both to Forest House.
#Did I write this instead of chapter 2 of Lucien’s fic#Maybe I did#eris acotar#eris vanserra#eris x reader#Eris/Reader#Female Reader#No Y/N Use#Fluff and humor#Tamlin is over it too#Spring Court#Spring Court Reader#acotar
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Back with chapter 3 of this fic! I have decided to make the rewrite of A Court of Mist and Fury stretch over four chapters instead of three for formatting reasons. Anyway, if you have no idea what this is here is chapter 1 and here is chapter 2
Summary-
Finally free of the Mountain and Amarantha's grip on the people. The Spring Court is scrambling to get back to normal. With their wedding not far away, Tamlin is struggling to keep his Court from falling into disarray. When he starts to get sick things begin to take a turn for the worse and worser.
When Feyre is taken by the Lord of Night, it doesn't look like anything it can get any worse. With his life experience Tamlin should know that things can always get worse.
Request- Do you think you could write about dahlia in this context: https://www.tumblr.com/praetorqueenreyna/737196004108058624?source=share, hopefully featuring deadbeat at first mom feyre, horrified stepdad rhysand, tired of it all tamlin and a supportive lucien/eris.
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A Field Of Dahlias
When Feyre came back Tamlin was certain this time something was very different.
She stopped looking in his eyes at all. And no longer opened her arms for him. Her face was dull and she rarely spoke to anyone at all.
Like all wildness had been stripped of her, the chaotic human girl he had loved gone.
He wasn't the only one that noticed.
Tamlin was slumped on the floor against the wall of his bedroom, and just outside on the other side of the open door was Ianthe, was slumped against the wall as well. Unable to stay in the same room as each other, they resorted to sitting with an open door between them.
"She hasn't spoken to anyone." Ianthe said, "I'm worried."
"I'm worried too."
"What did he do to her?"
Tamlin's thoughts flashed back to the wedding, where she had run away, all on her own.
"Hey Anth?" Tamlin asked, using the old shortened nickname.
"Yeah?"
"Did Feyre say anything the day Rhysand whisked her away the first time?"
He heard Ianthe's long dress rustle as she adjusted herself, "Yeah, we had a conversation before she ran off again, then he found her."
Tamlin furrowed his brow, "So you found her before he took her away?"
There was a heartbeat of silence, then Ianthe said, "if I had known he would have found her I would have dragged her back myself. But I didn't want to resort to that."
"Okay, what did she say?"
Ianthe looked at Tamlin through the open door, "She said... she didn't want to go back."
Tamlin went still, but Ianthe said, "I'm sure it was just wedding jitters."
"Yeah, jitters."
***
She was gone.
Gone.
Tamlin stared at the sentries as they recounted the events that had taken place.
The Night Court's third had broken in and whisked her away.
He had tried.
Fucking tried. and it still wasn't enough.
There was no safe place, there was no control of the situation. She had been taken and there was nothing he could do.
He stood in front of the broken doors. Long curls whipping in the wind. Unable to say anything, see anything, feel anything. All went numb and all went blank.
It was all wood splinters across broken tiles. Hinges creaking endlessly in the wind. The sword at his hip felt useless and the bow and arrows he was armed with could do nothing.
There was a low whistle from behind him, "Couldn't have just opened a window, no, we had to do all of this."
Another voice, a female's "Could you be of any use, Eris?"
"Like you Ianthe? What do you wish for me to do? Magically remake the doors?"
"That might be a start," Lucien said as he walked up to stand beside Tamlin.
There was silence, then Ianthe asked, "How far exactly do we need to run to not be within the perimeter of your soon to come explosion?"
"I'm not going to explode." Tamlin said quietly.
He could practically feel the lift of Eris' eyebrow as he asked, "Are you sure about that?"
Tamlin shrugged, "There's nothing."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucien asked.
"I mean I feel nothing, they took her, again. After I went to the extreme to protect her from them. And there is no longer anything I can do."
Silence. The feeling of numb weighed in worse than rage or sadness. He felt hollowed out. Useless. Worthless. He couldn't protect his fiancé from the male who had assaulted her.
How would he protect a defenceless child?
"We can't just leave her." Ianthe insisted.
"We won't." Lucien said, he took hold of Tamlin's hand, "But we need a game plan."
Tamlin looked over at him, eyes determined and strong. Hand warm and firm.
The High lord nodded once.
Inhale once, exhale. One heartbeat, then the next.
"Someone, find someone to fix these doors." Tamlin ordered.
***
A week passed and panic began to rise in the Spring Court. It's citizens banding together and conspiring for a way to free their Lady from the clutches of the Night Court.
Ianthe thankfully did most of the groundwork with the people. Calming their worries and assuring them the Lady would return. It did mean she was out of the Manor most of the time.
Which suited the others fine since the three of them plotted for what to do next.
"She is in the grasps of a mind controller, we have no real way of knowing if she is safe." Eris said as he sat back into the green lounge.
"There has to be something we can do." Tamlin bit down on his bottom lip. Sitting at his desk. One hand playing with his sleeve. The world was too sunny today, to nice and perfect. It should have been storming as the Lady of Spring was gone from it.
As Lucien looked between his brother and Tamlin, he went to stand, as if to walk to Tamlin. Then a letter popped into existence, it floated down and Lucien snatched it from the air. Quickly ripping it open and scanning the contents.
"Alright we may have a bigger problem." His eyes relentlessly scanned the contents over and over. Eye whirring continuously.
"Oh God." Tamlin cursed as he leaned further in the back of his chair. Eyes tilting to the sky, screwing them shut as if he could block all of it out.
"What now?" Eris asked, a low, almost growling noise in his voice. He too was done with everything.
"Hybern." Lucien, a slight breathlessness in his voice.
"What about them?" Tamlin asked as he braced for the worst. Hands gripping the rests of his chair.
"It seems we have the beginnings of a War."
***
He couldn't even enjoy this.
Tamlin remembered some days in his early childhood when he sat on his mother's knee, and she told him and his brothers stories of the days they were born. Of the terror and the love. Of the fear of the unknown and the joy of finally meeting them.
He wanted to be excited. He wanted to be excited about meeting his baby. He wanted to feel happy about this. He wanted to want it.
But as Tamlin laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't breathe. One of his hands rested on his belly. He wondered how long it would take before everyone would know.
He could only think of the fact that if he never got her back, his child would grow up without a mother. He might never see her again. His baby's mother may only end up being the story of the Cursebreaker.
He couldn't sleep, not like this.
Something pulled him to get up, and Tamlin, too tired to do anything else. Listened to the calling and slipped away from his bed.
He walked down through the hallways, white nightgown swishing in the moonlight. Following where the knot in his chest begged him to go.
Eventually he found himself standing outside of Lucien's rooms. Something in him begged to knock.
But it was late. He was probably asleep. He wouldn't want to be woken up.
The door opened and Lucien stared at him from the other side. The red head blinked, pants loose around his hips, and chest completely bare. Dark skin completely on display. It took Tamlin too long to realise he was staring.
Lucien cleared his throat, and Tamlin said, "You're awake."
The Fox nodded, “You’re awake too.”
Tamlin nodded as well.
Silence encompassed them, and Tamlin wondered if he shouldn’t have come here.
“Do you want to come in?” Lucien asked softly.
“I can’t sleep.” Tamlin blurted out, immediately wishing to take back the statement. He was already weak enough.
But nothing shone on Lucien’s face other than love. He stepped aside, holding the door open, “Come in, Tam.”
“Gods,” Tamlin mumbled, walking inside.
Lucien closed the door, then he took hold of Tamlin’s hand. His hands were always warmer than most, never too hot but never, ever cold. The High lord wondered if he just never left Lucien’s embrace if he too would never be cold again.
Slowly and gently, Lucien pulled Tamlin onto the bed. Tamlin went with the motions willingly, too tired for anything else. Concern, worry, was gleaming in Lucien’s big eyes, but Tamlin ignored it.
In the end, Tamlin laid on his side and Lucien behind him, pulling him to lay flush against his body. Lucien’s lips pressed against the skin of his neck. The blankets were almost unnecessary, Lucien being enough to keep them both away from the chill of the night.
Then Lucien’s hand slid further down, going beneath the swell of his breasts to lay on his belly. Then he stilled, fingers tensing ever so slightly. Then, Tamlin felt Lucien smile against his skin.
The Fox kissed him, gently, in a sleepy haze. His mouth travelled up and he whispered, “You’re starting to show.”
Tamlin blinked his eyes down, then his own hand slunk down and rested on top of Lucien’s.
It was small, would be unnoticeable if he wore a slightly baggier shirt. But Lucien was right. His belly now had the smallest bump to it. Tamlin’s heart fluttered as Lucien’s smile widened and he leaned up to kiss his temple, half mumbling, “You’re going to be a great dad.”
The High lord swallowed hard.
He didn’t know what to feel.
But with the male behind him. He felt a little less alone in it.
“I don’t know.” Tamlin whispered.
Lucien hummed, “Don’t know what?”
“How to be a parent.” He confided.
Lucien rubbed his thumb across Tamlin’s abdomen in slow, gentle circles, “No one does at first. I’ll be here for you, so will Eris.”
The Fox of Prythian then kissed his shoulder, “And soon enough, so will Feyre.”
‘Hopefully Feyre.’ Tamlin wanted to say. But to ruin the moment with his dark thoughts didn’t sit well with him, so he remained quiet.
“What do you think it will be?” Tamlin asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Lucien was silent for a moment. Hands still moving gently. Tamlin nearly melted into his touch, never wanting to leave the warmth and comfort wrapped around him. Slowly, Lucien moved his lips down to his fluttering pulse point, kissing the soft, tender skin.
“A girl.” Lucien said, “I think you would be a good girl dad.”
Tamlin’s breath stuttered, he had avoided all thoughts of the baby. Now laying here, hidden in the darkness, only the silver moonlight watching them. In the arms of the male who had held him these three horrible months. He didn’t mind thinking about it. He almost felt like he wanted to think about it.
“My family has never had a girl.” It was true, the Fairburn family line had only ever had sons. That wasn’t a rare occurrence, most High lord lines had only sons. On the rare occasion a family had an only daughter, the High lord power had jumped to a male cousin. If he did have a daughter, he wasn’t sure she would inherit the power.
He prayed no son or daughter of his would have the power. It only wreaked havoc, it was near uncontrollable, with a mind of its own. He didn’t wish to inflict that on any child of his.
Lucien hummed against his skin, “Maybe you’ll break the record.”
Tamlin laughed. Then he asked, whispering into the night, “What do you think she’ll look like then?”
Lucien hummed again, finger tracing circles on his belly, “Like you, blonde hair, green eyes, pale skin. But she might have Feyre’s figure. Or maybe the other way around.”
Tamlin twisted his neck to look at Lucien, the male pulled back slightly to see his eyes properly, “Or a combination, brown hair and green eyes?”
Lucien smiled, “Or blonde hair and blue eyes.”
“What if it’s a boy?” Tamlin asked, intertwining his fingers with the hand of Lucien still resting on his stomach.
“If it’s a boy… I think he’ll look like Feyre. Brown hair, blue eyes.”
“So if it’s a girl she’ll look like me, and if it’s a boy he’ll look like Feyre.” Tamlin said.
“I think so, but that’s just a guess.” Lucien ducked his head to kiss Tamlin’s shoulder, “But we still have a while before then.
“Still have things to do.” A lot of things to do, most including what to do with Hybern. And how to get the mother of his child back.
God’s Feyre still didn’t even know.
“We will get her back, Tam.” Lucien whispered, pressing another soft kiss to his skin, “And we’ll get through whatever Hybern throws at us.”
“What if we can’t?” He dared to ask.
Lucien pulled him closer, leaning over and kissing his cheek, “We will.”
The next morning Lucien woke Tamlin up as he slowly moved away. Tamlin purposely pretended to keep sleeping as the Fox sat up. Then his hand moved to pull back strands of blond curls from his face. Running his fingers through the golden hair, firm fingertips pressing gently into his scalp.
Lucien then leaned down, his breath ghosting the shell of Tamlin’s ear, before trailing down to his cheek, kissing the skin, then moving to his temple. A kiss there, before shifting downwards and pressing a kiss to his neck and shoulder.
Tamlin shifted slightly, then blinked his bleary eyes open. Lucien looked up with a got caught face. Then he smiled sheepishly, “Good morning, did I wake you?”
“Yes,” Tamlin smiled, “But this was a wonderful way to wake up.”
Lucien’s mouth parted slightly, before he returned the soft smile, “I’ll do it more often then.”
Tamlin’s skin heated until he was flushing from head to toe. Lucien laughed under his breath at his red face, then pushed up to press a kiss to his forehead, “Good morning, love.”
“Good morning, Fox.” Tamlin laughed, as he threaded his fingers through waves of scarlet.
In a minute they would have to get up and face the world again.
But for now their entire world was each other’s arms.
***
Eris was supposed to be of at least some help. Of course he seemed to be acting little more than an annoying fly buzzing around his head at all times.
Tamlin turned the corner of the hallway, long silk dress flicking around his ankles. Trying to ignore the voice behind him.
“If you would listen to me for a single moment, High lord, without running off-” Eris chastised him, following the High lord like a very determined dog. Though Tamlin would never make that comparison aloud, for fear of Eris burning him alive.
"It is too early for you, Eris." Tamlin said, as he walked towards his office.
Eris hissed under his breath, then darted forward quickly. Grabbing his hips to pull him back.
"You need to listen to me for once in your life-"
"Hands off him, Eris." A voice seethed from behind them.
Tamlin smirked over his shoulder, and Eris rolled his eyes, but did release him.
"You needn't go feral protective male on me, Lucien, I don't want to claim his child." Eris had a shit-eating grin smeared across his face as he stepped away from Tamlin.
Lucien stammered, face going red. Tamlin felt his body flush all over, heart racing as his eyes cut between the two brothers.
"I am not feral protective, you just have reason to touch him." Lucien reasoned.
Eris lifted an eyebrow, "Fine then.”
Tamlin looked between them once again, then rolled his own eyes. It was eight in the morning and he had a headache. They could go spar with the sentries, he however was not going to stand in the middle of their sibling spat.
So Tamlin turned and walked into his waiting office. Eris seemed to remember why he was chasing Tamlin in the first place and quickly followed, causing Lucien to bolt after them as well.
“As I was saying, Hybern is our biggest problem right now, but not just ours, all of Prythians.”
“Obviously.” Tamlin replied, skimming through some papers left forgotten on his desk.
Eris huffed, “So, what that means is that it will also be the Night Court’s problem.”
Tamlin’s eyes snapped, “What are you playing at, Eris?”
He crossed his arms, “I am betting on Rhysand trying to figure this out as well as us. Feyre may play into that.”
“You think Rhysand would use her?” Lucien murmured.
“I don’t doubt it.” Eris said.
Tamlin fell back into his chair, crossing one leg over the other. The skirt of his dress draped over his thigh. One hand subconsciously fell to the small bump in his belly.
It would certainly be a Rhysand choice to use Feyre in fighting against Hybern, after all, they knew her as the one who defeated Amarantha.
Amarantha…
Rhysand had served her for his own gain for half a century. In that time, who knew what he learned. What he saw.
Tamlin’s own father had played with Hybern. The Spring Court had plenty of connections, and was Hyberns best bet on smuggling into Prythian.
“Lucien draft up a letter for the King of Hybern.” Tamlin said.
“What?” Lucien’s blazing eyes snapped from his brother to Tamlin, “Why?”
Tamlin balled one hand into a fist. For his stolen love, and unborn child, he could do this.
“Because we are going to take a page from Rhysand’s book and play double agent.”
***
“You can’t be serious.” Ianthe said, her face completely devoid of emotion.
“It is the only way.” Tamlin told her, the High lord’s command seeping into his voice, causing her to flinch back slightly. The Priestess fisted her hands and looked briefly at Alis, who stood in the room so Ianthe could as well.
“Do you know what Hybern nearly did to us? What will try to do-”
“Yes I do Ianthe, more than you do considering you and your family ran at the first sign of danger.” Tamlin hissed. They stood in his office, Tamlin faced the window, letting sun shine down on his face.
Ianthe twitched as anger twisted on her face, “My father sent me away, I did not know what was happening until it happened.”
“You did not think it suspicious? Or thought that you are a grown woman who can make her own decisions-”
“Are you blaming me for escaping? Like hundreds of others did?”
“I am not blaming you, I am saying you don’t get an opinion on what went down.” Tamlin’s hand once again went to his bump. The sun was setting and the moon was rising, soon night would be upon them. Briefly he thought about returning to Lucien’s quarters instead of his own. And basking in his warmth all night long.
“Don’t get an opinion?!” Ianthe’s face twisted as her eyes turned fiery, “I may not have been here for the fifty years, but I know a hell of a lot about Hybern, and what they will do.”
Tamlin lifted an eyebrow, “Hell?”
“Oh don’t call me on my language when you swear every other sentence.” Ianthe snapped.
“Well what do you know Ianthe, that I don’t?” Tamlin challenged, one hand tracing the windowsill.
She sucked in a breath, eyes furious, then her jaw tensed and she gritted her teeth. Eyes flicking around his face, “I know their ways, and I know how slimy and disgusting they are. What they will resort to.”
“And how do you know this?”
She went very still, not even her Priestess robes swayed. Like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, prepared to snap.
“Don’t do this, Tamlin. You will regret it.”
“I already have so many regrets, Anthe.” Tamlin smiled coldly, “What’s one more?”
Her gaze was locked on his. Her mouth pressed into a firm line.
For a second, something like grief was flaring in her eyes.
***
“You don’t have to try this.” Tamlin said.
“And yet I will, if we can prevent Rhysand from ever using Feyre, we will.” Lucien said as he strapped daggers to his belt and sheathed his sword, before picking up his pack.
“We will get Feyre back, Tam, no matter what it takes.”
Tamlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Brom and Hart waited at the entrance of the Manor. They were currently in Lucien’s room. Tamlin’s eyes for a second, looked to the bed, where the sheets and pillows were still a mess from when they had been tied up together. Lucien’s arms around him, lips on his skin and whispering all things in his ear.
Tamlin didn’t want him to go for two reasons. One, the biggest, was that Rhysand could destroy his mind if he set foot in his lands. Or anyone else could either. He could lose Lucien and never know where to find him.
The second, selfish, one was that Tamlin didn’t want to sleep alone. Be alone at all.
So the High lord stepped forward and into Lucien’s arms, who quickly swept him up into a tight embrace. Tamlin whispered into his neck, “Please come back alive.”
Lucien pressed a kiss to his pulse point, then to his jaw and finally his forehead, before whispering into his hair, “Of course I will.”
Tamlin huffed a laugh, then looked up at him with a smile and teary eyes, “You have to be around to meet the baby.”
Lucien’s arms tightened slightly around him, then he murmured in a low voice that sent a shudder down Tamlin’s spine, “I will come back, and I’ll bring her with me.”
The High lord didn’t respond, just pressed his nose into the crook of Lucien’s shoulder. Staying locked in his arms, never wishing to part. He wanted to simply meld with Lucien and never be forced to leave him.
But all good things must come to an end, Lucien had to pull away. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and pressed one last kiss to the crown of Tamlin’s head, then he turned and they both walked out to the grounds of the Manor.
Bron and Hart stood looking determined as ever, neither waving, neither backing down. Lucien had asked for them both specifically to accompany him, and both had said yes without a question.
Andras’ second and third. They both had always been close with Lucien and Tamlin. Tamlin knew losing Andras had hit them both as hard as the High lord and emissary. But still they would tread into enemy territory for Feyre.
“Ready?” Lucien asked, they both said yes in unison.
It wasn’t with much fanfare that they winnowed away, except for Eris and Alis appearing to wish them well. And a slightly concerning threat from Eris in regards to what exactly he would do to Rhysand’s wings if he laid a hand on Lucien.
Then Tamlin was saying goodbye and they were gone. Only his spicy scent left sticking to his dress to remind him of the male who was now out of his territory and out of his protection.
Eris put a hand on Tamlin’s shoulder, “Feyre will return.”
He wanted to say it wasn’t Feyre he was worried about. At least not in that moment.
***
Tamlin had thought the weeks without Feyre had been terrifying, they were nothing compared to the agony of Lucien being gone.
Now not just one person he loved and cherished was gone, but two. He felt sick all the time and he could say for certain it wasn’t just nausea from the baby. Everytime he passed the library he looked, expecting to see red hair by the fire. Instead the embers were cold and Lucien was nowhere to be seen.
His room was loneliest of them all. He had grown so used to sleeping beside someone, now being without anyone, it was a sudden change and one he did not like or appreciate.
“You can’t mope about forever.” A sneering voice told him. Tamlin didn’t look away from the window behind his desk. Staring out at the fields of wildflowers, roaming trees and the ever present deer. If you looked further out the forests would change, melding together until you didn’t know where the floor started and the roots ended. Twisting and turning, cutting out all light.
As light as Spring could be, it had its dark sides.
“I am the High lord, I can do whatever I want.” Tamlin told him. In truth he knew he had to do more. They possibly had another war on their hands, and if he wasn’t careful, they could lose.
If it weren’t for his current… situation, he may have marched right into Hybern. Or hell into Autumn, and demanded for someone to do something. Instead of the constant song and dance that the other rulers liked to partake in.
As it were, he couldn’t risk it.
Eris walked further into the office, his footsteps marked by his heels clicking against the wood floors. Eventually he stood right before Tamlin’s desk, glaring down at him. Tamlin lazily tipped his eyes towards him, chin in his hand, and one leg crossed over the other.
Alis had handed him this morning, one of his mother’s old dresses. Tamlin couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy wearing them, he felt… closer to her somehow. Even if it had been well over two hundred years since her death. It was a dark scarlet with a high neckline and long sleeves.
His mother had simpler taste, but she had never wanted for glorious gowns. As the woman had spent most of her time in the gardens or forests.
“You keep thinking that, Tamlin.” Eris sneered, “But being on a throne can be one of the most restricting jobs in the world.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Expectation.” Eris stated, bluntly, “Though you never cared for those did you, Fairburn?
Dark emerald cut to glowing amber. Tamlin glared, “No I didn’t, because life isn’t a game. I don’t bother with rules that aren’t real.”
“If you think they are not rules to this, you truly are naive, Tamlin.” Eris’ eyes were laughing, mocking. Tamlin snapped.
“No, they’re aren’t rules to this. There shouldn’t be rules for living. We shouldn’t be stuck in a constant cycle of cheating and hiding, and pretending behind masks in the name of this game of life.” Tamlin’s hand gripped the edge of his desk, claws beginning to prick his skin.
Eris laughed, “Do you think we can just stop playing, Tam?”
Tamlin’s mouth pulled back into a snarl, “I think when people like you keep playing, and encourage others to as well. To learn this made up game. You only entrench it deeper into society and force on your children.”
Eris, cold and calculating Eris, began to lose it. Tamlin could see it in the way his hand twitched and his eyes scanned Tamlin’s face a beat too quickly, “Watch your tone, High lord.”
“Or you’ll do what, Eris? Burn me to death?”
“You infuriate me,” Eris shook his head, a grin dawning on his face, “You do make me think from time to time though.”
Tamlin rolled his green eyes, playing with the velvet fabric of his mother’s dress. Eyes turning back to the window behind him, watching the wind play with the petals of flowers.
“Have you received any word back from Hybern?” Eris asked.
Tamlin now glared. Before Lucien had gone they, being Eris, Lucien and Tamlin, drafted a letter, it had been sent just a day ago. Asking for help, to get Feyre back from the Night Realm.
The three had argued for two hours on whether or not to reveal the pregnancy to Hybern, as a reason for their desperation for Feyre’s swift return.
They decided it would be best to play the face of a male gone near insane with lust for his lost fiance, and when the time to meet was given… well all would be revealed on its own if Tamlin met with Hybern.
“Nothing yet.” Tamlin said, “but we will wait for Lucien to return even if they do send word, before we do anything.”
Eris hummed, then took the seat across from Tamlin’s desk, “Truly a pity this whole situation.”
“Careful who you pity, Vansnake.” Tamlin murmured.
Eris barked a laugh at the nickname that had floated around when they were younger. Hoping between bars, and laughing with not a care in the world. Hisses and curses spat on the Vanserra name were common. They were deserved, afterall, the Vanserra blood had produced a line of killers, spiteful assholes, and abusive bastards.
Tamlin had jumped in with his own creative nickname. Arm slung around Eris’ shoulder, bottle of open liquor in one hand, and a cigar stolen from his second-eldest brother in the other hand. The then Prince had slurred out about a snake he saw. Then watched as Eris’ dazed, amber eyes glowed in the light of the club.
“Vansssssnake.” Tamlin had slurred.
Eris had thrown his head back as he howled with laughter.
And it stuck.
“What are you going to name it?” Eris asked.
Tamlin hummed in question.
Eris traced the armchair with a longer, slender finger, “The child, what will you name it?”
The High lord blinked, he hadn’t even thought about that.
Him and Lucien speculating what the baby would look like came back to mind. He smiled slightly. Then he faced the outside world again.
A butterfly floated gently on the breeze, it flew through the air. Tamlin’s eyes followed it’s bright orange wings, and watched as it descended upon a red dahlia hidden amongst a myriad of other colours and species.
“I have no idea.” Tamlin whispered.
“Well then.” The tone in Eris’ voice made Tamlin look back over at him. The male snapped his fingers and a large, heavy book with a deep purple cover fell into his lap, “Come here and we’ll fix that.”
Tamlin furrowed his brow, but stood regardless and walked over, sitting smoothly into the velvet couch. Watching as Eris flicked to the first page, “This is a book of names.”
Tamlin lifted an eyebrow, “Really?”
Eris looked up with his own eyebrow raised, fingers lightly grazing the pages, “Really.”
Tamlin’s mouth curled into a smile and he leaned over to have a look, “Okay then.”
The Autumn Lord gave a small smile and read off the first name.
They found no names. Tamlin pointed out all the ones he knew from people he had met. They even came across a ‘Cassian’ both shuddering at the name before howling with laughter.
Alis eventually came in with mint tea and honey cakes. Eris moved from the leather chair to the lounge. Letting Tamlin sit close beside him as they read off all manner of names from the old book.
They found two possible options, Ried if it was a boy, and Kaitlin if it were a girl.
Tamlin couldn’t say either jumped out at him, but both were sweet names.
And by the time he fell asleep on Eris’ shoulder he was more relaxed than he ever had been during these days with Lucien gone.
***
When Lucien returned he was livid. The anger seeping from him was palatable by any passing by, even though he held it in a tight leash.
Tamlin had been signing off on some papers, passing the time with working. Even though Eris and Alis had told him to lay off over working, and stressing himself out.
Then he felt him.
Fire, and something sweeter, something delicate and venomous, like rays of sun that burned. It rippled through the world, like a silent pond disturbed by a child pricking the surface.
Tamlin was on his feet in seconds. Picking up the skirts pooling around his feet. Green today, another of his mother’s old dresses.
Running, barefoot, the tiles cold under his feet, he bolted for the entrance. Nearly knocking into a servant he rounded the corners. Until finally he was near jumping down the grand staircase.
Near halfway down he halted.
Lucien stalked into the manor, head held high, and eyes heavy. His mouth twisted into a frown. He had black-blue bruises, dirty with his hair half falling out. Red spilling across leather hunting gear. He let the quiver on his back drop to the floor. Bron and Hart were close behind him.
Tamlin stared in shock.
Alis was quicker than him and ran up to the three, quickly attending to Lucien first.
But the red-headed male laid eyes on Tamlin, and pain twisted in his eyes.
He gently pushed past Alis who furrowed her eyes at him.
Then without a word Lucien stalked up the stairs to where Tamlin was standing. The Lord could only remain stone still as the emissary marched the stairs until he stood directly before Tamlin.
“Lucien.” Tamlin breathed.
Lucien shook his head, “She won’t come back, Tam.”
Silence.
His words seemed to shake the world with the weight they held.
Tamlin’s hand fell to his stomach as his whole word crashed a little more. His knees gave out underneath him.
Swiftly, Lucien wrapped an arm around his back. Tamlin’s hands went to his chest, gripping tightly as he gasped in a breath.
“Why?” Tamlin rasped.
“Tamlin…” Lucien trailed.
They both knew why.
But
Fuck.
He had lost her.
No.
No.
Please no-
“No.” Tamlin pressed his head into Lucien’s chest, “No, no, no.”
“Where is she?!” A furious voice yelled.
Tamlin and Lucien looked up the stairs to see Eris descending, eyes burning pools of amber.
“She won’t come back, Eris.” Lucien whispered.
The room heated as Eris’ temper flared, he gestured to Tamlin, “But she has a child on the way-”
“And she doesn’t know that.” Tamlin murmured.
His hand fell to his side, before Eris looked up to the sky and mouthed curses. Fingers rubbing his temples, “What do we do then?”
Lucien turned down to Tamlin, “Why do we do then?”
Tamlin fisted Lucien’s shirt, and he murmured, “I don’t know.”
***
“Dear God.” Tamlin hissed as he turned on his side for the hundredth time. Nothing was comfortable, everything was too hot or too cold. The light of the moon shining across his face was awful, and would not stop, but if Lucien closed the blinds it was too warm without the breeze of the night.
Lucien groaned as Tamlin woke him again shifting in his arms, “Tam-”
“What?” Tamlin mumbled, half asleep, but unable to be fully asleep.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s so hot in here.” Tamlin grumbled into his pillow, before turning again and pressing into Lucien’s arms.
“Then I’ll take off the blankets.” Lucien said, but before he could move Tamlin said, “No, then it’ll be too cold.
“Mother above.” Lucien cursed, before removing his arms from around Tamlin, “Then don’t cuddle into me.” Then he rolled onto his other side.
Tamlin stared at his back, blinking at his form. Then festering rage pooled in his veins.
“Oh I see, you hate me.” Tamlin said.
“Tamlin!” Lucien rolled back onto his back.
“No, I get it.” Tamlin said, no emotion in his voice, “I’m not good enough for you.”
Lucien once again mumbled something to the Mother, “Tamlin I love you.”
“But you don’t want to touch me.” He countered.
“Because you said you’re too hot! You- you know, fine! Come back here, I’ll touch you.” Lucien tried to reach over to pull him close again, but Tamlin huffed and pulled away, crossing his arms.
There was a beat of silence before Lucien asked, “Really?”
Tamlin shrugged, “Maybe.”
The silence of night was lighter than day, there wasn’t anything around to witness them arguing in the dark. Nor Lucien breaking into giggles as he ran a hand across the mattress to wrap around Tamlin’s waist.
“Hey!” Tamlin tried to shove him back, even as a smile spread across his face.
“Come here.” Lucien said with that devastating grin on his face, pulling him into his chest and pressing his lips to Tamlin’s neck, sloppily kissing the skin before working his way to his jaw.
“Stop!” Tamlin laughed, “Gods, stop Lucien!”
Lucien laughed in between each kiss. Tamlin squirmed and tried to wriggle away but Lucien manoeuvred him to lay underneath him. Trapping him by resting his forearms on either side of Tamlin’s head, caging him in. Then Lucien attacked his face, a kiss to his cheek, then the other, then his nose, forehead and temples. Tamlin laughed until his sides hurt.
“Lucien Vanserra,” Tamlin wrapped his arms around his neck.
“Yes, my High lord?” Lucien raised a perfect eyebrow, that damning smirk still plastered on his damning face.
Tamlin leaned up and pressed a kiss to the tip of Lucien’s nose.
The Fox went a very, very bright shade of pink. Tamlin fell back into the pillows as he laughed.
Soon, Lucien’s shoulder shook as he fell into a fit of giggles as well.
He laid down half on top of Tamlin. Legs on top of his, tangled with each other, his upper body beside the High lord. His arm around the outline of his belly, slightly more swollen since Lucien had left.
“Four and a half months now.” Lucien murmured.
“Yeah.” Tamlin whispered, eyes facing the spotless ceiling. The endless white like an alternate version of the night sky. When he closed his eyes he saw the endless black.
White, black, white, black.
He wished his issues were as plain and simple as black and white. Easy to pick between and easy to figure out.
“What if war breaks out again?” Tamlin whispered to the ceiling, unable to stifle the question.
Lucien pressed his face into Tamlin’s side, thumb rubbing gentle circles into his belly, “We will deal with it then, for now we have tonight.”
Tamlin let his eyes close, let the black take him, as his hand found Lucien’s hair, “Yeah, you're right.”
Silence passed, only broken by his and Lucien’s soft breathing.
Then there was a feeling of movement that made him gasp as his eyes shot open. Lucien was up in a second, sitting over Tamlin, eyes wide, fear of what could be happening.
“What happened?”
It was like butterflies in his stomach, a sudden tickle that was so strange, so odd. Out of place, movement that wasn’t his own.
“I think-” It happened again and Tamlin covered his mouth with his palms.
“Tamlin what’s happening?” Lucien asked, eyes darting over him so quickly, one hand going to his thigh and the other planted next to Tamlin’s head.
“I think that was… I think that was kicking.” Tamlin whispered.
Slowly, the fear left Lucien’s eyes as wonderment filled them.
***
Golden hair spilled out on red silk sheets. Eyes of dark emerald glinting up at him with tears pooling in them. Skin gleaming in the moonlight. Dress of white cotton, falling around the flesh of his breasts and exposing his collarbone. Lucien’s eyes went down to his stomach, his hand, almost out of his own control, flicked up to touch. But his eyes quickly went back up to Tamlin’s, permission.
Tamlin nodded quickly, his hands grabbing onto Lucien’s and placing them on the centre of his belly.
“Do you feel it?” Tamlin whispered.
Lucien’s brow furrowed every so slightly, tongue caught between his teeth. He moved his strong hand over the fabric.
Tamlin laughed softly, “I think it’s gone.”
“Still.” Lucien murmured. He had never felt this way. Like he was caught in amazement and wonder. Something so brand new, that he understood nothing about. But there was a deep curling need in his core, slow moving and constant. Always sitting low in him, like embers stoking. A want and a need. He needed to be closer to the male underneath him, in a body that was not of a male. A female with a babe in her womb, a male he cared so deeply about, whom he couldn’t live without.
Feyre’s face came back to his mind. As she had drawn her arrow and looked at him with such hatred. Rhysand’s laughing eyes behind her. As they had threatened him. As she had refused to return to the Spring Court.
He supposed she had every right to leave. After Tamlin had locked her in. It was out of desperation. But she cried and screamed.
Still. Seeing the same male underneath him, bathing in moonlight, so at peace and gentle.
His.
This was theirs for tonight.
All theirs.
All his.
He kissed the words into Tamlin’s skin as his mouth grazed the soft spots of his neck. Causing the High lord to grip his hair.
“We have tonight.” Lucien whispered.
“We have tonight.” Tamlin whispered back.
***
“Well, Hybern has returned our letters.” Eris drawled as he lounged in the green couch. Tamlin was sitting at his desk, and Lucien stood near him. As of late the male was always beside him in some way. Rarely leaving his side.
“What do they say?” Tamlin asked.
Eris grinned as he plucked the letter from the space between realms. It was a matte black envelope with a blackened seal. Tamlin’s hands curled into his fists in his lap. Fisting his dark blue dress.
With a swift, single move, and a short tear. Eris opened the letter and pulled out the contents.
“High Lord of Spring,” Eris began, “We have taken time to ponder your request and our council men have elected to stage a meeting. A ship will be sent to your Western docks on the third moon of this week.
This being the first of our meetings since your father’s unfortunate passing, we are more than delighted to finally meet with you face to face.
With sincerities, the King of Hybern.”
Silence encompassed the room. Tamlin’s breath stuttered ever so slightly, and Lucien was at his side in a second, moving faster than any could see. His hand fell to Tamlin’s shoulder, squeezing ever so lightly.
“The nerve of that male to have already made up the date.” Lucien murmured, “The third moon is tomorrow which means-”
“Which means we leave today,” Eris finished, “I suppose you two best pack up and prepare.”
Tamlin’s hands were shaking, but he nodded all the same. He could do this, he had to do this. For his Court. For his people. For his child.
For Feyre.
He could do this.
There was a light rapping at the door. Tamlin and Lucien looked up quickly, but both just blinked. Still caught in molasses, at what to do, what to say, how to move forward.
So it was Eris who called, “Come in!”
“Is it just you in there? Because I’ll have to get Alis then!” Ianthe called back.
“It’s Lucien, Tamlin and I!” Eris told her.
“Mother- no.” Ianthe stomped down on her own cursing. Tamlin nearly laughed, as his memory of the female before she became a Priestess was a woman who swore in nearly every sentence.
“I’ll get Alis then! Hold on!”
“Holding.” Eris said. Tamlin could nearly hear the eye roll through the door.
A few seconds passed and the door opened to reveal a very tired looking Alis walking through. She sat down on the lounge next to Eris and sighed in relief as she was finally off her feet.
Ianthe then came through. Out of her robes today, with a deep blue scarf over her head and a loose blue dress with a high-neck and long sleeves that nearly covered her hands.
“Tamlin, there is a problem.” Ianthe said, her normally level voice had the slightest touch of worry in it. Setting Tamlin on edge.
“We have many problems, at the moment.” Tamlin mumbled, “What's this one?”
She breathed in through her nose, holding her breath for three beats before releasing it, “The lands are dying, the magic is being depleted somehow.”
“Depleted?” Eris asked, eyebrows furrowing, “Wouldn’t with the current situation the magic would be thriving?”
Ianthe cut blue eyes between Eris and Tamlin, “That would be expected yes. Unless..”
The Priestess looked back over at Tamlin, wells of ice now looking more concerned than ever before. Tamlin scrutinised her for a moment, trying to pry at what she was hinting at.
Then it hit him.
Tamlin went white.
“What?” Lucien put his hands on Tamlin’s shoulders, the warm solid presence behind him being the only thing keeping Tamlin anchored.
“Unless there was something wrong with the child.” Ianthe breathed out, voice quivering ever so slightly.
The flames in the fireplace burst. Alis cried out as she jumped over to the back of the lounge, avoiding the lick of the flames, pulling Ianthe down to the ground with her.
Eris reacted quicker than anyone, throwing up a ward and forcing the fire back into it’s place. Directing it to heed his command. Tamlin watched as his eyes glowed with terrifying power and orange licked around the ends of his red hair. Like it was caressing its beloved son.
There was no doubt in Tamlin’s mind Eris was the chosen Heir of the Autumn Court. And would be a powerful Lord at that.
He was glad Eris was on his side. If he weren’t…
Tamlin didn’t say a word, everything sucked from his mind. He looked up at Ianthe’s hardened eyes. She turned her gaze away as they met. Like she couldn’t bare to look at him.
It hit him with a wave of sickness and fire. Blood boiling over like it might spurt from every pore. Like his skin had been turned inside out as his organs constricted around each other, intestines becoming a noose for his lungs as the breath was stolen from him. He gasped.
Lucien was moving his chair to the side and kneeling for him in a second, grabbing both his hands and stroking them. Eyes trying to find Tamlins, but Tamlin kept looking away.
If something was wrong with his child. With the one thing he was supposed to create as a High lord. As a High lord of Spring. The Court of fertility. Of life. If he wasn’t able to care for it.
Failure. Failure in everything.
Feyre was gone. Rhysand doing whatever he wanted with her. Leaving him only with his Court, and on the verge of war.
And one child. The one thing he had to protect.
If he failed in this.
He could hear the whispers now, the accusations, the failing of his people.
The ground would shrivel, the magic would leave.
Would the magic leave him?
Could it leave him for failing it in such a way?
His breath was gone, he couldn’t breathe, there was no air, he was trapped in a pocket with now escape.
Gasping for breath, Tamlin clutched Lucien. The red-headed male, stood and pulled Tamlin up into his arms. Holding him gently, warmth spreading all around him as Tamlin buried his head into the heart before him. Thumping quickly underneath his tunic, but steady and constant. Always there. Always would be there.
“To go to Hybern now…” Eris broached the subject they were all thinking of.
“Hybern?” Ianthe shot to her feet, pulling away from Alis as they both got their bearings.
Eris turned flaming eyes to the Priestess, “Hybern reached out to us this morning, they are sending us a ship, we are to leave tomorrow.”
Blue eyes widened, something akin to actual fear flashed over Ianthe’s face, her hands clasped into a prayer and she mumbled something before facing Tamlin and Lucien.
Lucien rubbed up and down Tamlin’s back as tears threatened to break from the corners of his eyes. But he took in a tight breath and pulled away just enough to face Ianthe, “Yes, we are going.”
“Tamlin no, you cannot-” She reached a hand out like she could anchor him to Spring and prevent him from leaving.
“I am the High lord and I will do as I please,” Tamlin’s voice echoed through the chambers and the four around him shuddered as the full weight of the High lord’s power settled over their skin. Ianthe’s hand fell to her side, but her chest expanded quickly as she attempted to level her breathing.
“As your friend and High Priestess, I am warning you this will not be a good idea-” She attempted to continue, but Tamlin held up a hand. She closed her mouth, looking down.
“We are going.” Tamlin whispered.
We have to.
I have no other moves left.
“Fine.” She gritted out, turning on her heel. Dress flaring around her, she strode for the door. Back ramrod straight and head never turning back. She slammed the door closed with such a force a picture on the wall beside it smashed to the ground.
Alis winced at the noise and the mess it left behind.
Tamlin sighed.
One.
Two.
Three heartbeats.
He fell to his knees, Lucien went down with him. Saying something to him, in his ear, rubbing his hot hands all over his skin, but nothing reached Tamlin as the world faded in and out of black.
There was a flutter in his belly, and that feeling was everything he held onto.
***
“The baby seems fine for now. Steady heartbeat, not too much movement, but as they grow I’m sure that will pick up.” Heilda said, hand poking and prodding over his flesh.
She finally pulled up and Tamlin pulled his shirt back down over. He wore a white shirt with billowing sleeves, heavy green woollen skirts and an emerald jacket which had been slung over a nearby chair in his room. He was laying on his bed, now sitting up. Lucien was sitting beside him, hand in his, squeezing at rapid intervals, breathing a sigh of relief at Heilda’s words.
Eris sat by Tamlin’s desk. Picking at his nails, but even he flicked his eyes up. Loosening his breath, and releasing the tension in his shoulders.
“We’re safe to go to Hybern then?” Tamlin asked her.
Heilda barked a laugh, “You wouldn’t be if there was no concern for your baby being unhealthy. But you have to go regardless, right?”
Lucien squeezed his hand again, and Eris’ face twisted into annoyance as flaming eyes landed on Heilda. The lesser Faery didn’t shy away, instead she grinned at the Vanserra’s.
Tamlin sighed. She was right. There was nothing they could do. He had to go. Hybern left no room for argument.
“Well, if everything looks alright then…” Tamlin sung his legs off the bed, releasing Lucien’s hand. The fox grasped out for him, like he didn’t want to let go, but eventually pulled away and stood up as Tamlin did.
Tamlin snatched up his jacket from the chair in the corner of the room by the door. Eris smoothly stood. Brushing off his jacket and adjusting himself.
“Well if that is all, I’ll be making my return to Autumn.” Eris didn’t meet either Lucien or Tamlin’s eyes as he spoke, simply choosing to look out the window.
A beat of silence passed, Tamlin saw the twitch in his hand and the hitch in his breathing.
He smiled. Softer in this form, everything was different like this. He was more tired, more sick, but he couldn’t say he hated everything.
If this was any other situation he may have been able to enjoy it.
Tamlin walked up to Eris and brushed the back of his palm. Eris quickly jerked his eyes down to him.
“Thanks for being here, Eris.” Tamlin whispered.
Eris’ flaming eyes dimmed just slightly. Face paling in comparison. He looked down at Tamlin’s fingers brushing his, “Be safe, Springling.”
“I never am.” Tamlin smiled.
Eris laughed, it was quiet and nearly choked out, but he swallowed hard and nodded, “When you return I’ll be back.”
“I know you will.”
With that Tamlin turned away, and Eris nodded to his brother. Who nodded back. A silent exchange.
The Heir of Autumn winnowed and Tamlin faced the door.
Lucien held out his arm, and Tamlin linked theirs.
“To Hybern, my Lady.”
Tamlin threw his head back as he laughed, “To Hybern, you prick.”
***
Alis had hugged him tightly as they left. Tamlin had nearly wept in her arms, but held himself together, if only because they had dozens of people watching them as the carriage was packed.
“Be safe,” She had whispered, “For all of us.”
“Of course I will.” He whispered back, before releasing her.
Alis curtsied low, before taking his hands and kissing them gently, “If only your mother could see you know.”
“Would she be proud, you think?” Tamlin asked, voicing the small insecurity.
Alis just smiled so softly, “She would be so proud to call you her son.”
As Tamlin had climbed into the carriage, Lucien right behind him, he had glanced over his shoulder.
On the steps of the manor was a certain blonde haired female with pale blue robes. Her steely eyes gazing over at him. Tamlin nodded to her, either she didn’t see, or didn’t care. As Ianthe turned and headed back inside the Spring manor.
They were off not just a few minutes later.
As the voices of the people shouting after them faded into the distance, Lucien reached out through the empty space between them. Taking hold of his hand. Squeezing gently.
“In just a few hours we’ll be at the port.” Lucien said.
This carriage followed the winding paths of the old Fae routes. Ones that were too dangerous to set foot on. For they twisted and turned into different paths that led ones into dark forests and pits to fall. The carriages of the Spring manor were all spelled and warded for the path to lead them through to their desired location. Turning a trip of days, even weeks into nothing more than mere hours.
“I know.” Tamlin whispered.
“Are you ready?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Tamlin barked a laugh at the honest answer, looking down to his brown leather shoes. Breathing out a sigh, he thumbed Lucien’s hand, rubbing soft circles into his skin.
“When we get there Lucien, I want you to do something for me.” Tamlin murmured.
Lucien blinked, “Yes, anything.”
Tamlin laughed, then he released a breath before saying, “I will be a female to you and everyone there. Do not address me as a male.”
Lucien furrowed his brow, “Whatever you say, of course, but may I ask why?”
Tamlin swallowed, “In places like this it’s better to allow people to think what they see instead of trying to explain.”
Lucien looked as though he wished to say something but bit his tongue. Slowly, he wrapped an arm around Tamlin’s shoulders, “Whatever you say, Tam.”
Tamlin rested his head on Lucien’s shoulder, eyes closing. He was so tired. Everything was exhausting and he just wanted to sleep for a thousand years.
Lucien pressed a soft kiss to Tamlin’s head, and Tamlin let sleep encompass him.
***
Over the open sea, his, no, her skirts flared out. A flash of green in the breeze. Her golden curls fell down her back and overhear shoulders, picking up gently. The swell of her belly mostly concealed by the large emerald coat covering her.
In the face of Hybern today, Tamlin was exactly that. A female, nearly five months along and ruling a Court that was half in chaos.
Lucien watched from the back of the deck. His red hair in a loose braid behind him, only strands falling over his face, dressed in impeccable green. With quiet steps he trod past the workers on the Hybern ship to where Tamlin stood at the edge, watching the writhing sea below them.
Their morning had been nothing to stew over. After they ate breakfast, Tamlin ate not nearly enough to soothe Lucien’s worry over her. But they couldn’t delay, packing up a carriage with the bare necessities, they headed for the western port.
The carriage ride was mostly silent. Lucien still felt the same jitters of anxiety fluttering in him, but remembering how Tamlin had let her head rest on his shoulder, completely placing all her trust in Lucien, that if worse came to worst, the Autumn lord would protect her. It made his body light up with pride, easing the knots in his stomach, making it easier.
Not easy, but easier.
Finally he was standing beside Tamlin, looking over the endless horizon. The buttery sun over large blue skies, reflecting silver in the lapping waves.
“How are you doing?” Lucien asked.
“Like I am going to be sick at any second.” Tamlin whispered.
“Oh shit-” Lucien’s hands went to her long hair on instinct but Tamlin laughed as she pushed him away with little force.
“I meant it’s… anxiety inducing. But I can’t say I like the sea motions either.” Tamlin told him.
Lucien hummed, “I see.”
Reaching out his arms like it was the easiest thing, he wrapped them around Tamlin, his front pressing against her back. Tamlin grinned as she tipped his head back to see Lucien’s eyes.
“Well then, my Lady, allow me to distract you.” Lucien murmured into his hair.
“You’re such a sap.” Tamlin chided, before looking over the sea again.
“Am I now? I don’t think so.” Lucien whispered, mouth moving down, breath tickling the shell of her ear. Tamlin shivered but arched ever so slightly into the action.
Lucien moved a hand down, over the bump. Hands holding, touching, in any way he could. He couldn’t get enough of this, of any of it.
Cutting through the salty tang of the air was the gentle smell of a rose bloom, slowly unfurling. The change in scent that distinctly made out the new growing life. Lucien couldn’t help as he pressed his face into Tamlin’s hair and breathing in that new smell, excitement curled in his core as he thought of everything he could do with the little faeling once they arrived.
Lucien’s mind turned to what they would look like, with tiny hands and claws, blond hair and green eyes. Or perhaps more like Feyre..
He felt himself sour at the idea of it looking anything like its mother, as Lucien thought back on when he had tried to get Feyre to return. The words she had spat at him.
Forcing himself away from that, he focused on the person in his arms. Putting all his attention on the High lord.
“We’ll soon be on Hybern’s shores.” Tamlin whispered.
Humming, Lucien moved one hand to take Tamlin’s, “We will.”
“What if this goes wrong?” Tamlin whispered.
“Then we will deal with that then. For now we focus on the present.”
Feeling the worry starting to overtake Tamlin. Lucien pressed a kiss to her skin. To her neck and up to her jaw. Tamlin laughed and quickly tried to push him away, “People are going to see you.”
“Let them.” Lucien murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.
“We can’t be too risky, Luce.” Tamlin whispered.
“I know.”
Then why did he want to get riskier?
***
Hybern’s dock was like any other. Markets, and ships. Cargo being unloaded and reloaded. People yelling orders and moving things about.
But there was a distinct downcast over the people. Most wearing hoods low over their heads, not a smile in sight, nor laughter in the air. Unlike in Spring, where joy was abundant in the people, especially the lower class and the lesser Faeries.
As they exited the ship. Lucien took hold of Tamlin’s hand. Stepping out in front of her. He wouldn’t let her be exposed in this place. Whilst he felt bad for the general mood of the people, he knew violence was abundant in streets like this.
It reminded him so much of the bigger cities in Autumn.
Tamlin seemed to feel the same, as she squeezed Lucien’s hand.
A carriage of black was already parked at the docks. As they stepped onto the wooden pier, several guards emerged from shadows, in between crates and large containers. They had been waiting.
Dressed in all black armour. Looking like shadows themselves, they flanked Lucien and Tamlin’s every side. Guiding them off the pier and onto the rocky cobblestone road. The sky was turning grey as clouds emerged and the winds picked up.
Parked and ready was the carriage, the footman, as silent as everyone else, opened the door and allowed them in. Lucien lifted Tamlin’s hand and nodded for her to enter first, before quickly sliding in behind her and letting the door shut.
Sitting down on the plush black seats. Tamlin watched the windows, looking out after the scatter of people. Glancing curiously at the carriage, but not daring to stare for a second too long.
“This place is… grim.” Lucien said tightly.
“Nothing’s changed.” Tamlin murmured.
Lucien blinked, “Pardon?”
“Nothing has changed since the last time I was here.” Her voice was smaller now. Tighter somehow.
From the last time…
Lucien’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second as he remembered that Tamlin’s father used to drag her here.
Reaching out a hand, Lucien took Tamlin’s hand in his own, squeezing. Reminding her he was there. Never-leaving. Tamlin looked back over to him. Eyes dulled, the green somehow lessened. Like life was being sucked from her.
Lucien stroked the back of her hand, “I’m right here, Tam. And I always will be.”
“Will you?” Tamlin challenged, “Will you always be there Lucien?”
Lucien stared at her for a moment. Mapping her face. Green eyes, pale skin, high cheekbones, a strong, straight nose. Her neck, long and unmarred, sharp collarbone. Her breasts outlined by her white shirt, then the bulge of her belly, a reason they were so desperate for Feyre to be returned.
The Fox of Fire reached out and cupped her face, “Yes, yes I will be there, I will always try everything in my power to remain beside you.”
If Feyre couldn’t, or perhaps wouldn’t, promise that to her, Lucien would.
Tamlin’s hand loosely grabbed Lucien’s wrist. Eyes snagging on his chest before looking up into his warm eyes.
“Okay. Okay.”
***
“Holy fuck.” Lucien whispered in awe as they finally arrived at the large bone gates of Hybern’s castle. Tamlin made no noise, hand just falling to her stomach. Eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing.
For Feyre.
They were doing this for Feyre, and Prythian, and the soon to be child.
Memories swam back up from black, of Tamlin’s father dragging him out of these carriages kicking and screaming. Into the palace, back to her.
He wanted to be sick. Remembering what this place had been for him.
The day he lost his purity. In that bedroom of red and black silks, red hair above and around him, her scent drowning out everything else. Even her moans had smothered his cries and screams.
Tamlin shook his head. Letting his curls caress his face, and feeling back into his body, his skin, his hands, his muscles. All of it, here. In the present. He wasn’t there. And he would never be there again.
Never again.
And so Tamlin fell back into what he was playing today, putting on a mask that wasn’t his own face as the door opened and he took the hand of the foot man. As he stepped onto the same grounds he had been tormented on, he took a breath, closing his eyes.
She opened her eyes, and Tamlin faced the castle before her.
Keep the mask on, the one she swore she wouldn’t wear since she inherited the throne.
“Shall we, my Lady?” Lucien asked beside her. Hand brushing out, to touch the back of her hand. Tamlin gave her a grin, however small it was.
“We shall.”
They linked arms and walked up the bone white steps of Hybern’s castle. Guards of black like shadows watching their every move.
As the blackened doors swung open. The familiar creak of the hinges setting off Tamlin’s nervous system, making her want to run for her life.
But it was the grim faces of the Lords and Ladies that watched as they stepped into the dark, eerie castle, made Tamlin want to run more than now.
They all stood, lined up like dolls, dressed in long silk gowns of white and black. Not unlike chess pieces, only moving once ordered too. Tamlin didn’t meet any of their eyes and instead faced the one in the centre of the group.
With robes of sparkling black covering her entire body, a lady with a smile that slashed the air, and blue eyes filled with cunning malice stepped forward. Her head covered by a low hood. Though Tamlin could see blonde hair curling around her face.
She looked as young as a rose bloomed in Spring. With soft, supple skin, and a glowing expression. However the weight that settled over them as she came forward revealed that she was more than likely older than the castle itself.
She looked strangely familiar. Tamlin couldn’t place where she had seen her before.
She bowed low, causing more blonde hair to fall around her face, “Lord and Lady of Spring, welcome to Hybern.”
Tamlin felt Lucien stiffen beside her.
This was not going to be fun.
***
They were led to a meeting room. Through winding, dark tunnels, carved with illustrations of killing, maiming and bloodshed. Tamlin kept her eyes on the people in front of her, and Lucien’s warm presence, so as to not slip back into the memories of coming to this dark place. Being tormented and taken against her will.
Shaking her head lightly, her curls bounced as they walked.
Lucien snaked a hand around her waist, rubbing soft circles into her skin. Tamlin was thankful for the distraction. A blush spread up her skin, she felt like she was on fire.
Finally they made it through those dark hallways, and into a large room with windows that overlooked the kingdom down in the darkness below. All stone and cold. A large, black table sat in the centre, covered with papers and maps. Torches lit up the space, and everyone took their place at the table. Tamlin and Lucien were led to one side of the table, and sat down.
Silence overtook them and no one dared breath too loudly. Lucien kept looking at Tamlin, at the Lord and Ladies, trying to find their game, to figure them out. Always slinking around, playing games and wanting to engage with others.
Lucien was good at games. But Tamlin was the best at this one.
She looked right ahead, to the head of the table. Spine straight from her lower back to her neck. Head raised, and eyes relaxed. Mouth set in a firm line. No movement, not even a quiver.
The doors slammed open and all Lords and ladies stood. Lucien included, one hand falling to Tamlin’s shoulder. Tamlin did not stand, she didn’t even look over her shoulder.
Hybern walked through the room, footsteps ringing, echoing. A constant beat that fell into sync with his heartbeat. Always cunning, always measured.
Tamlin didn’t look at him as he walked past the Spring Lord. She only met his eyes when Hybern found his seat at the head and relaxed back into the dark leather.
His dark, ashy eyes were the same as when they first met. Hybern’s mouth twisted into a grin when he met the blank green Tamlin held in her own stare.
“Be seated.” Hybern ordered.
Everyone followed in unison, Lucien’s hand fell away from Tamlin, but his eyes cut to her every now and again. Tamlin wanted to snap for him to keep his eyes on the King, but also knew that would be worse than just allowing Lucien to play his own games.
“Spring Lord.” Hybern drawled, “Or should I say Lady?”
Quivering of eyes, and low whispers as all eyes went back to Tamlin, and the form he was in.
“Lady shall be fine until further notice, Dae.” Tamlin’s mouth curled into a smile.
Hybern’s grin fell into a frown with disdain painted on his face, “Remember your place here, Spring Lady.”
“Oh I do, Hybern.” She said with a lift of her blonde eyebrows, “A better question would be, do you? Afterall, my place is no longer beneath your General.”
“No it isn't, is it?” The grin began to return, “Your place is atop her now, as she resides in the grave.”
“My place,” She replied smoothly, “Is on the throne of Spring, amongst the seven High lords of Prythian. Amongst the rulers of the Faery Lands.”
We stand on equal footing, did not need to be said for Dae to get the idea.
Dae, a name Tamlin had overheard in her earlier years. It had been laughed from the tip of her father’s tongue, no doubt a shortened version of his real name. Of which had been the best kept secret in all of the Faeryworld for several centuries.
There was something powerful in using that name on him. Having something over him that others would be beheaded for having.
Tamlin grinned, and Dae returned it.
The door opened again, and this time, Hybern glanced behind Tamlin and his eyes filled with smugness.
“Welcome back, Jurian.”
Tamlin’s blood turned cold.
“Good to be back, Hybern.”
***
Jurian’s presence didn’t hurt the mission as much as Tamlin thought it might. The former human General watched from his place beside the King, eyes smoothly moving between Tamlin and Lucien.
Lucien locked in on the General, taking in every twist and turn of him. Tamlin ran her thumb over the back of his hand, Lucien had found his next challenge, and it appeared Jurian thought the same, if the way he kept glancing back at the Fox was any indication.
Tamlin however kept her eyes deadlocked on the King of Hybern.
The Cauldron.
When Hybern had spoken of how he had taken back all the pieces, reassembled it, gaining power beyond anything any Fae had owned before the Black Queen. Tamlin had felt her heart beating in his chest like a rabbit caught in a trap.
But outside, he grinned like a fiend. Green eyes sliding to Jurian as she drawled, “So you tossed his eye into the Cauldron and he came out fine.”
Hybern lifted an eyebrow, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. Jurian’s eyes went dark. Face going pale as he scowled.
Tamlin felt a little sorry for picking at such a sensitive spot, but she didn’t let it show on her face.
“Something along those lines.” Hybern replied, his eyes turned to the woman in robes on his right. She grinned from under her hood.
“Yes,” She murmured, “Along those lines.”
Tamlin narrowed her eyes. Strange.
Jurian appeared unnerved by the robed woman. He kept glancing at her like she was something to fear. Something to hate and pull away from.
Tamlin clocked the glances, making a mental note to stay away from that woman.
And the meeting truly began.
Hybern briefly outlined their plans. His words twisting and turning in a way that revealed no weak spots, or ways to pry.
But he confirmed they wanted to take Prythian, and the humans.
Tamlin wanted to vomit as she listened to the savouring in his voice, salivating at the idea of having slaves once more. Of having so much control.
Tamlin replied with slow, laughing responses. As if she too enjoyed the idea of so much power being in the hands of the Fae once more. As if she agreed with it all. Hybern listened, watched, and examined every detail.
Tamlin put on the performance of a lifetime. Spinning and weaving lies like silk, summoning every drop of horror and hatred he had learned and remembered from his childhood. Milking memories of his father and brothers, turning his face into one of theirs. Eyes glowing with the idea of violence and wanting for bloodshed.
Grins and looks of being made insane with wanting for control. Jurian met his eyes, making quips every now and again.
Eventually conversation turned sour.
“Now, another topic, Feyre Archeron.” Hybern said.
Tamlin stiffened and the movement was noted.
“Yes.”
“You want her back?” Hybern asked.
“Yes.” Tamlin replied. His voice shook with poor restraint, and it was all part of the act. He nearly grinned as Hybern’s eyes flashed with an almost look of sympathy.
He hated masks, and pretending and fake faces.
Being hatred of it, didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.
Hatred didn’t equate to a skill issue. Even if he wished he didn’t know how to do this.
“If there is any way to get her back, I want to try it.” Tamlin said.
Hybern’s face twisted into a grin, “Then we will try.”
***
“On a scale of one to ten, how fucked do you think we are?” Tamlin asked as the door to their bedroom swung closed.
They had been placed in interconnecting bedrooms in the West Wing of the castle. All draped in luxurious silks. Decorated with black and red. Tamlin felt sick seeing the crimson blankets and pillows.
As Lucien locked the door, Tamlin began to pick up everything red and shoved it in a nearby closet.
Lucien was silent for a moment, and Tamlin looked over her shoulder as she bashed a pillow that had done nothing to her other than exist, to get it to fit into the now too full closet.
“What?” Tamlin snapped as she forced the door closed.
“Nothing.” Lucien replied, “I think a good seven.”
“Great.” Tamlin replied sarcastically.
Lucien moved away from the door. He snuck up behind Tamlin and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face into the crook of her neck.
Tamlin sighed, “What’s wrong now?”
“Everything.”
“How pessimistic Lucien, that’s my job.” She smiled a little.
Lucien breathed a laugh across her skin. Tamlin fought against arching into the warmth behind her.
“We’ll be fine, we just need to play Dae’s game.” She murmured.
“How do you know his name?” Lucien asked.
“I just know the shortened version. From my father.” Was all she responded with.
“I see.”
There was a heartbeat of silence. It hung in the air like the silver moon in the sky. A breath away from the darkness surrounding them. For a moment only they existed in the room, and no one was outside, no predators that would overpower them the second they smelled blood.
Then Lucien moved like an asp. One arm sweeping around the backs of her thighs. And around her shoulders. Swooping her off the ground so quickly Tamlin shouted in surprise, then tossed her head back as she laughed.
Lucien grinned as he moved for the bed of black in a separate room. The door opened, faelight sparking to light as they walked through.
Lucien gently placed Tamlin amongst the linen. She grinned as she crawled further up, until she was lying on the pillows, sitting up on her elbows.
Lucien settled further down on her legs. Lying on his front and smiling up at her.
Reaching out a hand, Tamlin pushed strands of red hair away from Lucien’s face. Thumb stroking over the scarred skin, her smile lessened over so slightly. Lucien caught her wrist, pressing her hand to cup his face.
Tamlin’s smile came back in full as she held him, as his eyes closed and he pressed back against her palm.
“What are we to do?” Tamlin whispered.
Lucien hummed, “Enjoy every moment we can.”
#acotar#pro tamlin#tamlin#feyre archeron#lucien vanserra#pro lucien vanserra#tamcien#feylin#feysand#rhysand#ianthe#religious lesbian icon ianthe#elain archeron#nesta archeron#eris vanserra#pro eris vanserra#alis acotar#the band of exiles#the court of dreamers#acotar headcanons#acotar au#acomaf#acowar
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2023 AO3 Year-End Fic Review
thank you for tagging me @praetorqueenreyna 💚🤗
What is your AO3 account?
foxcort @ ao3, but im also gonna link my account on squideworld (which has nothing rn but im going to start posting there instead and its got about the same vibe as ao3)
2. How many words did you write total in 2023?
i wrote 10773 words and it was all for acotar!
3. How many fics did you publish in 2023? How many multichapters vs oneshots?
i wrote 6 fics for the entire year (which is surprisingly more than i originally thought!), 5 of which were oneshots and 1 of which was a collection of drabbles. im hoping to start writing at least 1 multichapter in 2024
4. What was your longest fic? Your shortest fic?
my longest was a heart of scales and storms at 2785 words, which was a feylin mermay oneshot and my shortest was spring memories at 714 words, which was the first fic i contributed to this fandom (and one that has a very special place in my heart)
5. What was your most popular fic? Your least popular fic?
comforter was my most popular fic at 447 hits and my least popular was a court of ice and fire at 43 hits, which is completely understandable considering its an oddly specific au and the only chapter i have posted is tamlin-centric, but i still love the idea and hope my muse can come around to contributing more to it this year!
6. What fic didn't perform as well as you thought it would?
hmm maybe a heart of scales and storms? the statistics show that it only got 53 hits, but i still remember the comments i got for that fic and @haniaaaaaaaaaaa drew ✨this✨ beautiful art piece inspired by it! so from the reception the fic garnered it feels like it should have more than 53 hits but honestly i had so much fun writing it and i remember smiling so wide my face hurt for days after bc of the comments/artwork that it didn’t feel like it didn’t perform well (as far as hits go)!
7. What fic performed way better than you thought it would?
oh wildfire at 192 hits (this is a lot for me lol), which was an erisweek entry and the first time i ever attempted writing from his pov. honestly i don’t expect any of my character-centric stuff to take off, so i was pleasantly surprised at how it performed!
8. What was your favorite fic you wrote in 2023?
most probably comforter, more specifically the neslin chapter. i’ve had this super angsty, acosf divergence multichaptered neslin idea in my head for a while now, but i suck at long term fic planning and like most people i want to jump right into writing the interesting parts of it, so the neslin chapter was a scene from that idea and i felt so happy writing it and getting into the mindsets of nesta and tamlin in that au.
9. What was your favorite fic that somebody else wrote in 2023?
definitely rosemary by @bittermuire (thank god for this survey because in my effort to link the fic i realized ITS BEEN UPDATED!!! and as i read through it, i became even more convinced this was 100% my most favorite fic of 2023 💚) honestly, anything muire writes has me immediately hooked, but its the characterizations of the archeron sisters in particular that are so special to me. especially in rosemary. it also happens to be an october/fall fic, which are bonuses and pluses as far as im concerned. if you love the archeron sisters, give rosemary a read. if you need more convincing, allow me to provide one of my favorite quotes from the fic—
Lucien Vanserra watched her leave, his heart threatening to give out, and cursed himself a thousand times. Then another thousand times. Then, drowning in table salt, dreaming of her hair, thinking of getting himself a few sessions of therapy, he decided he would not, could not possibly, let her go. / rosemary (ch.1) by iriy @ ao3
honorable mention to plus 4 by firenaition @ ao3, because this is a fic i read at least once every month, a fic that i've shown and begged my rl siblings to read and quite possibly my favorite azulaang/atla fic of all time
10. Tag your friends to have them do this year-end fic review as well!!
if you haven’t done it already and you want to, do it! and tag me too, i love reading these!
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🧙♂️🪄✨✨✨ You’ve been visited by the Wip Wizard! If you feel comfortable, gush a little about the three wips you’re most excited to work on! Then send this to another inbox to keep the magic going!
Hey Anon! Thanks for the ask!
WIP 1) Untitled Collab
I wont say a ton about this one because 1, it's a collab fic, and 2, we don't have a ton planned yet.
@thelovelymadone and I are working on a Feysand/Elucien AU where Papa Archeron makes two bargains with Lucien and Rhys that end up tying Feyre and Elain to them as humans. Again, I won't speak much on this one because it's a collab. Chapter one is hers so if she wants to spoil anything else she can reblog with details.
WIP 2) The Commander and the High Lord (Seraphim!Feyre)
My first chapter will be posted in a couple of weeks and chapter 2 will be posted for Feysand week. Basically, Rhys sends Az to Cretea and Drakon opens the shield instead of them just seeing the ruins as they did in canon. Feyre is a commander among the Seraphim and trusted as an envoy between Cretea and the High Lords, answering directly to Rhys. The mating bond snaps on both sides simultaneously and Feyre is still stubborn, trying to maintain some professionalism. Rhys is dead set on having her as his High Lady.
WIP 3) All Strings Attached
A prequel to The Great Escape, one of the Gwynriel collabs for the summer circle. I wrote part three and received permission from @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship to reuse the universe she created to write Feysand's story. Basically, Feyre gets wrapped up in the espionage business Rhys and Mor own bc she's dating Tamlin still and Rhys needs a way to take him down (revenge for his mother and sister's murders). They aren't supposed to fall in love but they do.
Again, thanks for the ask! I always love gushing about fics.
💕💕💕
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TF&TS
I'm gonna jot this down now and then probably edit and pin it later, but here's an explanation of what I've been working on.
TF&TS is a Critical Role fanfic I'm writing and plan to post to AO3. It's going to explore campaign 2 with the following caveats:
Molly survives the ambush on the Iron Shepherds.
Lucien pursues Molly as a spirit, similar to Azazel from Fallen (1998), as Matt described in the campaign wrap up.
There's a lot more detail to flesh that out, but to give a sense of why this grew into something big, this is how the fanfic came into being:
January 2022: I started watching Critical Role in order, beginning in campaign 1, including Talks Machina.
July 2022: I finished C2 and the campaign wrap up. Matt said that the initial plan had been for Lucien to be a lesser recurring villain as a spirit (like Azazel) that was trying to possess Molly's body and get rid of him. Lucien wasn't going to be a big villain until the Somnovem got revealed at some point.
I love that film. I love Azazel. I enjoyed Lucien as a villain. I got really excited at that idea and searched for fanfics that explored that. THERE WEREN'T ANY. Some fanfics explored Lucien as a more traditional ghost, or haunting dreams, and now there's a smidgen of short (usually 1 chapter) fics that address something similar to body-snatching. But not a full-on Azazel-style spirit pursuing Molly and trying to murder him to death throughout Campaign 2.
August 2022: Watched EXU Calamity. Damn, that was cool. Epic shit. Got me excited. Again searched for fanfics. Nope. It's only been a month, I don't know what I expected.
What would Lucien's spirit abilities even be? Ghosts are pretty lame in D&D. He can't just be one of Matt's old Lingering Souls because that class can be killed permanently, and it would be really easy for the M9 to do that. It wouldn't work for a recurring villain. He'd get Lorenzo'd. So Lucien would have to be something that was more challenging for a group, and he'd have to be something that could come back. Then I built a monster block for Lucien with Azazel style mechanics. I was like, cool, that was fun.
How would the combat play out? I got all the character sheets off CritRoleStats and played a combat scenario out. Lucien got curb stomped, so I modified his stat block and did it again, then again until I finished a stat block that was actually challenging. Cool, that was fun.
Wait, when would that even happen in the story? I looked up the timeline on the wiki to sort out when there would be an opportunity for (1) Lucien to come back as a spirit in the first place, and (2) when he would be able to reach the M9.
Well, shit, how does Lucien come back? If he's not a Lingering Soul, and he had to be repaired by the Somnovem, then he's somewhere in the Astral Sea. The Somnovem probably can't just fling a soul across the planes, so someone needs to summon him from the Astral Sea. Who would do it? The Tombtakers! But how? Only Cree and Otis have spells, so one of them. Otis can't use summoning spells like that, and there's no way for Otis to contact the Somnovem. But Cree can Commune! Cree has Legend Lore! But when would she use that? And so on and so on until I worked out a plausible way and time for him to come back. Cool, that was fun.
But then the question is: why did the Somnovem send Lucien as a spirit instead of just telling Cree to murder Molly? Matt might or might not have had an explanation for that plan, but regardless, it never came out in the campaign. And I never really came up with a reason for Molly to survive the Iron Shepherds. Would there be a reason for both? Shit, more brainstorming.
And then I had an idea.
I was like, no, I'm not gonna write that. That's too big. I've never written a fanfic. I've never done any creative writing outside of high school. But it's in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone. So I thought, I'll just get it out by making an outline, then once I get sick of it and don't write anymore, I won't be disappointed. I spent all of August writing an outline while I watched campaign 3. It wound up at 168 pages on Google Docs. Cool, that was fun.
I wasn't bored of it yet. So I brainstormed what I thought each individual Somnovem would be like. Oh, and some other themes for each of them. And tied them to specific sensory perceptions and schools of magic. I wrote a few key scenes with the Somnovem and Lucien because dreams are weird and the crazy wizard aberrations are cool. Then I wrote some scenes with Lucien and the Tombtakers. Then I wrote some scenes with Molly and the M9. Cool. Cool.
What if Molly learned about how to use his bloodhunter abilities through dreams about Lucien's past? Oh, that'd be great. So I wrote some scenes from Molly's POV where Lucien learned how to do bloodhunter stuff like that, then mapped out when they would have to take place based on when he hits certain levels. It was only going to be 5-6 dreams, and I thought that might be a lot. It's okay, I'll space them out.
Cool.
Fuck, I need to write it. I want to write it.
So I decided, sure, I'll write it after TNEOL comes out. That way I know Lucien's backstory and I can work that into the themes and plot lines.
I did not enjoy TNEOL. Almost any of it. Part of that is my fault, I had high expectations. But man, it missed every mark I had set.
I looked at the outline. Shit. Now I needed to add a backstory for any of this to make sense because it definitely does not work with TNEOL, and the readers will assume it applies. I NEED A HEADCANON. And I need to insert that backstory somehow. What if Molly had dreams of Lucien's past throughout the campaign? Sure! But why would Molly have dreams of Lucien's past so often after he survived the Iron Shepherds and none before?
Another idea.
All that brainstorming replaced the plan of having Molly learn abilities through dreams. So now I've written about 30 dreams. Yep. THIRTY. There's more that are in progress and not yet first drafts.
What if I made Lucien Irish as fuck? It's hard to hear accents while reading anyway, so adding a language would be fun. And dialects. And code-switching. Now I've woven in Irish. But wait, maybe that should be a D&D language.
What about Cree's holy symbol? The M9 never saw that necklace until Eiselcross, and it is kind of weird that Matt made such a big deal about seeing it then. How did she cast spells before then? What was her previous holy symbol? She had to have one to cast the resurrection spell that brought Lucien back. And what about how Lucien would have been able to read the book when it's written in Undercommon? Reminds me, how would an uneducated orphan learn how to speak so eloquently (and without copy/pasting anyone else's backstory like TNEOL did)? How can I represent the Pattern in writing? And then I methodically went through every single plot hole or gap in explanation that I could find in the campaign related to Molly, Lucien, the Tombtakers, Vess DeRogna, and the Somnovem.
Oh my god, all the fucking ideas.
I HAVE A HEADCANON.
And it just went on from there.
I bought Scrivener because Google Docs crashed whenever I opened it on mobile. Now TF&TS has about 235k words. Not a single chapter is complete.
Currently, the plan is to write as much buffer as possible before Molly's comic comes out in May, then work in whatever it has into the story (unless it's TNEOL-compliant, because no). Depending on how comfortable I am with the pacing, I'll either start posting one chapter weekly or bi-weekly in May, or perhaps on the anniversary of the last episode of C2.
That's what all my posts about fanfics and writing are about. This single fanfic. Just one. I've literally never written any fiction since high school. Zero.
But in about two years, I'll have finished one.
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Queen’s Choice: Part 4
This is the fourth chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys.
Catch up:
part 1 part 2 part 3
I don’t feel nervous until I’m in the elevator, on my way up to see him.
You’d think I’d be used to seeing Victor by now, and even more used to him giving me grief about my presentations but I’m never prepared enough when it comes to him.
I realize it’s because I owe him in more ways than I feel comfortable admitting.
I owe him for helping my company and for saving me.
Again and again and again.
I know that they all care about me, but Victor has this uncanny ability to appear and whisk me out of harm’s way. I shudder when I think about what might have come to pass had it not been for him.
Goldman is the one who breaks me away from my thoughts and I make small talk with him as he leads me to Victor’s office. I’m dressed slightly different, with a tight pencil skirt that’s flirting with being a bit too skimpy for me and a conservative blouse so it looks like a mistake.
I’m not wearing underwear and I can feel my heart racing as I interact with a man outside of my target, worried that he can tell and I’ve accidentally exposed myself.
That doesn’t seem to be the case though, thanks to my blazer that covers my chest and I take a deep breath as I enter Victor’s office, the door shutting behind me.
He looks even more handsome than I remember and I remind myself that my intention for today is to tease, not necessarily seduce - though I’m open to the latter. His eyes are glued to his computer screen, and he doesn’t so much as glance up in my direction as I take off my blazer and sit in front of him.
The fabric of my blouse rubbing against me combined with the chill of the offices has made my nipples erect, and I resist the urge to cover up, instead arching my back to give the illusion of a fuller bosom despite barely filling out an A cup.
When he does finally look at me I see a flash of irritation in his face before he says, “Your presentation was filled with errors.”
“What!? Really?”
I’m genuinely shocked because I spent so much time checking and rechecking my work and without thinking I run beside him, behind the desk and bend over to see the computer screen. As a result I can feel my skirt riding up and I wonder if I’m as exposed as I think I am.
Victor doesn’t seem to notice this though, exasperated he walks me through what I need to do better and I end up forgetting about teasing him and take notes diligently. It’s because of this that when he finally asks, “Are you trying something funny with me?” I don’t understand what he’s talking about at first.
“What?”
“You really are a dummy, you know that?”
With that he pulls at the back of my pencil skirt, his fingers accidentally brushing against the top of my thighs. I blush uncontrollably and nervously scuttle back to my chair.
“I didn’t want panty lines,” I whisper so softly it’s barely audible but he hears me and sighs again.
“I’m driving you home and you’re changing so no one else sees you like this.”
“Is it that bad? You don’t...like it?”
It’s then that he pauses and with an eyebrow raised asks, “Is this for me?”
“Maybe.”
He grins now and I’m worried about what will come next.
“Have you dumped those other 3 and come here to confess?”
“What other -“
“Let’s not act like I don’t know and you don’t know. Call me when you’re done with them and then I’ll fuck you silly right on my desk if you want.”
He goes back to work and I’m stunned by his the straightforwardness of his response.
“I...”
“Was there something else?”
He’s smirking when he looks at me and I can’t help but feel like he’s enjoying playing with me like this.
“I want to negotiate.”
I can tell that this intrigues him. He puts down his pen and sits back in his chair, crossing his legs and waiting for more information.
“I agree to stop seeing one of them and we see what we are like together.”
He laughs and my face instantly feels hot.
“Why is that funny? Aren’t you curious too?” I say a little too loud and with an indignant expression I can’t help but have.
“Dummy.”
He leans forward in his chair, putting his weight on his elbows as his closes the distance despite his grand mahogany desk between us.
“I’m not curious because I already know.”
My face burns but I don’t back down.
“Well I don’t. Offer stands.”
He considers this and with a smirk says,
“Three.”
“That’s basically confessing! I’m not ready!”
“I thought we were negotiating? I have the upper hand you know....”
“Two! And that’s my final offer.”
“I’ll consider it. But for now, let me take you home.”
—
I feel rejected as I sit in the passenger seat and far more disappointed than I expected to feel.
None of them have denied me, and I can’t stop fantasizing about what it would have felt like to have him capitalize while I was next to him, bending over. I think about how his fingers could have entered me and how exhilarating it would have been to fuck on that grandiose desk of his.
But it looks like I won’t find out.
The car pulls up in front of my building and he says, “I’ll be in touch. Cover up in the meantime if this was really for me...”
“Huh?”
He sighs but he doesn’t look exasperated. He looks gentle and tender and loving and he says, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you as you are.”
He drives off before I can reply.
—
My head is filled with fantasies of Victor beyond the ones in his office after he denies me. I check my phone to see if he has agreed to my terms but I don’t see anything from him.
I feel frustrated but I also don’t know who I would pick.
I really don’t want to choose.
In the days that follow the intensity of the fantasies increase and I find myself alone in bed touching myself to the thoughts of being with him. I get messages from the others but I’ve got tunnel vision.
I’m a woman obsessed and whose curiosity needs to be satiated.
I eventually buckle and write him, asking if my terms have been agreed to, all the while not knowing who I’d pick.
I get no answer.
—
I’m thinking about what my next move is a week after our encounter in his office. I’m home, wearing a comfy pj set, hair still wet and fresh out of the shower when there’s a knock at my door. I’m honestly wondering if Lucien has returned next door but it’s Victor who I see through the peep hole.
He’s holding something and looks impatient and I eagerly open the door, forgetting that I’m not exactly in sexy attire.
“I’ve brought a contract,” he says, breezing by me and heading to kitchen to fix himself a drink before walking over to my couch. He’s clearly come from work, but he’s loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves, indicating that he’s done for the day.
I sit beside him and confused mumble, “a contract?”
There’s a snort and he says, “Our negotiation? Or have you already forgotten?”
“No!” I exclaim, but my heart sinks knowing what’s most likely in here.
When I look over the papers, I’m surprised to discover that there’s no mention of parting ways with anyone. Instead the demands are...far more accommodating to my desires.
The contract outlines in details how we shall entire an exploratory phase with each other, and will not finish until both parties are satisfied. This period has no deadline other that it will last until both parties are satisfied.
There is one catch.
With each week that goes by, I have to say goodbye to one suitor. Two weeks, two men total. Three weeks...well, the decision will be made by then even should we not have a label on our relationship.
Victor smiles as I realize the contract is outlined in a way should I have unlimited men, one would be sacrificed per week.
He hands me an expensive looking fountain pen and asks, “Do we have a deal?”
I nod, taking the pen from him and signing my name next to where he’s already signed.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” he says and extends his hand for me to shake it. When I take it, he grabs me and pulls me into him, his other hand wrapping around the back of my head as he kisses me.
It’s brief because of how we are situated on my couch, and he pulls me onto him so I’m straddling him as he unbuttons my top, before sucking on my breast. His tongue flicks at me while his hand gently pinches the other and I moan helplessly.
“Is this what you wanted when you appeared in my office in that sheer blouse?” He teases, but I can’t formulate a reply.
“Well?” He pushes again, not accepting my half moan half whimper as a response.
“Yes but more.”
“What more? Describe it.”
It’s embarrassing to tell him everything I fantasized but I do and as I do I can feel him getting harder and harder underneath me. I can tell he loves hearing about the nights spent with nothing but myself and thoughts of him and he carries me to my bed, stripping me of my bottoms, and demands I show him what I did those nights.
I’ve never touched myself in front of anyone before and it’s both nerve-racking and exhilarating. As I start to do it, he strips down in front of me and does the same.
It’s the first time I’m seeing him like this, not just naked, but animalistic in the way he watches me. I can tell by the way he’s stroking himself that things are escalating for both of us. I don’t want to come because he still hasn’t really touched me, but he demands that I show him exactly what I did and I feel compelled to obey.
I cry out as a wave of pleasure rushes over me and moments later he’s kneeling between my legs on the bed, hovering over me as he finishes on my stomach.
We’re both panting as I hand him a tissue to wipe himself and I’m about to get dressed when he grabs my arm and stops me.
“We’re not done,” he says with a smile.
For a moment I’m surprised, but then excited at the thought that our first night together is only beginning.
Part 5
I hope you liked the fourth chapter of my steamy fic. As I’ve said before this is very out of my comfort zone but I tried to kick this up a notch! If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)
As always, if you’ve enjoyed the story, please show your support by sharing it with a friend, liking it, or buying me a coffee!
Just lmk if you don’t want to be tagged and I’ll take you off.
tagging @ho-lee-snow-balls
@redheadkitty11
@superllamaathleteshoe
@mamafishfound
@animeemmy14
@clilee
@uniunikilla
@x-klamstrakur
@itsannaslife13
@exosexosekai
@galaxystarrr
#mr love kiro#mr love lucien#mr love victor#mr love gavin#mr love queen's choice#mr love queen's choice fan#mr love queens choice fanfic#mlqc fanfic#mlqc#mlqc fic#mlqc lucien#mlqc gavin#mlqc victor#mlqc kiro#mlqc smut
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I posted 453 times in 2021
100 posts created (22%)
353 posts reblogged (78%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 3.5 posts.
I added 331 tags in 2021
#fanfiction - 85 posts
#dragon age - 80 posts
#mass effect - 33 posts
#dragon age inquisition - 27 posts
#solas - 25 posts
#dragon age 2 - 22 posts
#skyrim - 18 posts
#wip wednesday - 15 posts
#cicero - 13 posts
#thane krios - 13 posts
Longest Tag: 137 characters
#god imagine though waking up in 50k years and you’re on a ship full of talking dogs and one of them can’t stop asking you about democracy
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
The lovely @kittynomsdeplume tagged me because she lives in THE FUTURE and turns out that time is relative and who cares that it's Saturday in the states. YOU'RE NOT MY DAD.
Ahem.
So I'm still working on this blasted chapter of Listen Closely, my CiceroxListener fic. It's getting close to being done but ME:LE might delay it's completion 😅 (oops sorrynotsorry)
Anyway, here's some mad jester:
She cocked an eyebrow. "You can keep a secret, though, can't you, Keeper?"
A shiver tickled down Cicero's spine, like her velvet voice had slipped into the back of his collar. "To the grave," he cooed, voice low, leaning towards her.
She smirked and mirrored his posture. "You can share them with me. I'm a very good, Listener."
Cicero's back stiffened, his grin freezing in place.
The tempo of the music has changed. New steps in the dance. Best find your footing fast, Fool.
That's more than six sentences but I think I already mentioned that YOU'RE NOT MY DAD.
Tagging: @hezjena2023 @piecesofsolaswriting @the-cryptographer @beaubartley @yourstrulycommandershepard
18 notes • Posted 2021-05-16 01:14:47 GMT
#4
19 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 01:05:08 GMT
#3
@kittynomsdeplume and @hezjena2023 tagged me. Love them.
I'm terrible at cutting out six sentences so here is something near it.
Since IDA chapter three needs some major work and is not ready for any form of public consumption, instead have a bit of Listen Closely chapter seven, featuring a very special guest:
Truthfully, it had not all been for show. The Night Mother trusted Cicero absolutely, her esteem for the acolyte second only to that for Sithis himself. Diem herself did not hold such an honor. She was a chess move, a risk, and the Night Mother patiently waited and watched to see if she would prove to be a profitable gamble. Her position could only be improved by gaining the confidence of The Keeper.
"You are preoccupied, my Listener." The phantom behind her spoke, it's voice like gravel.
She spared it a look. Diem had read enough of their history to know and respect who it had once been. Lucien and his wisdom had been wasted on Astrid, the blithering fool.
"I was thinking about Cicero," she told him honestly. Who would he tell? Sithis?
"Ah yes," Lucien mused. "The erratic Keeper. Though not as erratic as he postures."
Tagging: @piecesofsolaswriting @the-cryptographer @enby-hawke @yourstrulycommandershepard
21 notes • Posted 2021-06-13 17:15:20 GMT
#2
Tagged by @crown-laurel
Rules: Share your lock screen, last song you listened to, and the last pic you have saved on your phone.
Tagging: @fiannans @the-cryptographer @piecesofsolaswriting @beaubartley @hezjena2023
25 notes • Posted 2021-06-27 21:11:14 GMT
#1
Hidey-ho everybody!
So things have been kind of quiet around here lately writing wise and it's because I was busy writing sneaky sneaky porn for the @dasmutquisition! Now that names have been revealed I can finally share with you all the things I have created! I had a lot of fun with that writing three different pairings I had never messed around with before!
Note: All works below are rated E and tagged. Please note the tags before reading (and let me know if I missed any important tags! Turns out I'm terrible at this game!)
Care to Dance? for @adoxyinherear
Paring: Varric/Casssndra
A smug chuckle announced Varric's presence on the balcony. Cassandra rolled her eyes and straightened up, turning to look at him over one shoulder. "What?"
"Just you," he answered with a shrug. "You can take down dragons without breaking a sweat, but a room full of silk draped Orlesians and you're hiding in the wings."
"I am not hiding," she snapped, a touch too defensive.
He chuckled again and came to stand beside her. "Sure you're not, Seeker. You only came out here so the garden could get a sample of your radiance. Understandable, there is enough of it to go around."
Cassandra scoffed. "That line would sound better on paper."
"You're right. I should write it down. Maybe I can work it into the next Swords and Shields chapter."
After the events of Halamshiral, Cassandra is worn out and in need of some TLC, which Varric is happy to provide, after he gives her a little grief.
Clandestine Operation for @barbex
Pairing: Solas/Merrill
No one raised an eye as she entered the inn and returned to her room which was wreathed in the darkness of night. As she stepped into the gloom, the door suddenly slammed shut behind her, and she felt the cold steel of a blade pressed to the soft skin of her neck. Merrill went completely still, barely daring to breathe, lest her throat press too hard against the razor edge.
" Nuvenas mana helanin, dirth’bellasa na ." The whisper came from just behind her ear, more breath than voice, too low to be identified.
" Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris ." She supplied the passphrase immediately, breathlessly, still too anxious to take breath.
" Amae Vhenan. " The relief in his voice was palpable, and the blade at her neck disappeared.
Post-Trespasser. The Inquisition, in an effort to learn more of Fen'Harel's plans and movements, placed one of their own in the wolf's jaws, not knowing she was already in his heart.
Blackhawke Down for @KittyNomsDePlume (@kndp)
Pairing: Blackwall/f!Hawke
"Don't believe we've been introduced, Miss…?
Marian smirked. "Marian Hawke. Champion of Kirkwall."
Blackwall choked on his ale and hastily dragged a sleeve across his beard. "Begging your pardon, Champion."
She waved off his reaction. "Call me Marian, or Hawke if you prefer, everyone else seems to."
"Alright… Hawke," he assented diffidently. "It's truly an honor to meet you."
"Oh, I assure you the pleasure is mine ." Marian smirked, looking him up and down.
He chuckled. "Said like a woman who's never had the pleasure." He took a drink and Marian found her eyes drawn to the small droplets of ale that clung to his beard. She had a sudden flash of desire to lap them up like nectar before his sleeve wiped them away and he cleared his throat. "So, what brings you to Skyhold?"
"Visiting an old friend. Though I've found I've developed a keen interest in making new ones," she offered suggestively, curling her lips into a haughty smirk.
Blackwall nodded obliviously. "There's plenty of good folks about the Inquisition. Certainly a lot who would make for fine fellows."
Marian ran her tongue over her bottom lip, swallowing her exasperation. "I was more interested in bed fellows, and I already have a candidate in mind." She raised a single eyebrow, all attempts at subtlety abandoned.
Marian has arrived at Skyhold and finds herself longing fo some companionship.
Bearded companionship.
29 notes • Posted 2021-03-15 18:20:25 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
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Hi! What do you do when you start to lose your momentum while writing a multi-chapter fic?
Hi friend!!! Thank you for stopping by, this is a great question.
The first thing to ask in this situation is why am I losing momentum? Am I not interested in the story? Is it hard right now? Why is it hard? I usually lose steam for one of two reasons: 1) I'm no longer interested in the story, usually because it's almost over or because I don't like the direction it's taken or 2) I'm in a transition phase and I have to write "time passing" chapters where nothing really happens and I'm boreddddd
So the reason for the slow down will impact how I approach it. If I've lost interest bc we're near the end (I hate endings) I will force myself to wrap it up. Like "ok, do we need three chapters to tie up these loose ends or will one epilogue do?" I will try to draw it to a close quickly so I don't get bogged down in shit I don't care about. It makes fic writing more like writing a term paper but if I promise myself we'll move on to more interesting things I can usually barrel through.
What if I don't like the turn the story has taken? Chasing you is a good recent example of this. I wasn't in love with it. I was way more interested in LWD. I didn't really want to write Nick and Jen talking. And I asked myself why not? What about this isn't clicking for me? And the answer was that I had another idea for how the story could have gone that I found much more compelling. So I decided once chasing you was done I'd write the other version. I promised myself something more interesting, and barreled through the last two chapters. And that's the great thing about fic; I can rewrite my own story, if I want! We aren't bound by rules and letting go of the idea that I have to get it right the first time is liberating for me.
But what if we're stuck in a part of the story that's boring and I don't wanna? Looking at LWD, for example, I had just done "I don't do that any more, doctor Blake" and I was so close to "what if I don't want to save you?" but *something* had to happen in between. Those two things couldn't happen back to back, time had to pass, they had to draw closer. But how? They'd already talked about their kids, and personally I don't love writing just straight dialogue. So I had to bargain with myself again. What did I want to write? What would be interesting, what would make a good visual? I didn't want to write "and Lucien kept coming to the pub and they kept talking and it was nice." I was never gonna write that chapter if that's all it was. So I picked a scene I wanted to see - Lucien and Jean helping Sarah give birth - and I wrote that instead. It could have been anything, so I picked something I liked.
But what if I don't know what comes next? That doesn't happen to me often, I usually know where we're going and how we get there happens organically (sometimes). When I'm for real stuck, I text @andallthatmishigas and we talk it through. No single piece of media you consume was created by one person. Every song, every book, every tv show, every movie, is a collaboration in some way. You don't have to do fic by yourself, either! Phone a friend is a viable option! And it helps me so much.
And sometimes I find I just don't want to write the story any more. This doesn't happen to me as often these days, but sometimes it does. Sometimes, I'm just over it. And friend, if a story is not bringing me joy, if I don't even want to think about it any more, I can walk away. That's another beautiful thing about fic; it's a labor of love, and we don't have to labor for something we don't love any more. We can learn from the experience, and move on.
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the most dangerous game (for the world’s biggest virgins) | Chapter One
the first fic posted on this blog! i posted a few mysme fics on my main blog since they were for zines, but since this one is sort of its own thing, i’d figure i’d make use of this silly little sideblog.
the idea of there being a chapter 2 is a little questionable, but we’ll see how it goes.
AO3 | writing commissions | main blog.
0
They meet over coffee. Jumin sits quietly in his chair, reading a book, and Zen sits across from him, impatiently drumming his fingers on the table.
“Stop that,” says Jumin, not lifting his eyes from his book. “I find it annoying.”
Near immediately, Zen counters with, “I find you annoying.”
“The feeling is quite mutual.”
They sit in silence for a few more moments, and Zen begins to get a little irritated. “Why am I here?” he asks.
“I wanted to have a chat with you,” says Jumin, and he pauses, “I never thought I would say that sentence in earnest. It’s an interesting change.”
Zen would probably make a snappy comeback, if he weren’t already so done with Jumin. “Then why have we just been sitting here, not talking for—” he looks up at the clock by the front counter, and MC waves happily at him. He waves back, then turns back to Jumin, “five minutes.”
“I wasn’t in a rush,” says Jumin, “and I figured now was as good a time as any to conduct a little experiment and see how long it took for the silence to get to you. That’s the thing about children, you know?” He lifts his head to meet Zen’s eyes. “They can’t stand boredom.”
He looks back down at his book, and Zen briefly ponders if his career could survive the inevitable controversy he would face for murdering the man in front of him. And Jumin is quiet for a few moments longer, giving Zen plenty of time to think, until he opens his mouth once again.
“So,” Jumin says, “What are we?”
There are a few blissful moments where Zen is only attempting to process those stupid, terrible words coming from Jumin’s stupid, terrible mouth. Not that Zen thinks about Jumin’s mouth at all, ever—shut up.
When he does manage to process said terrible words, it’s as if Jumin has poured water directly onto Zen’s motherboard in an attempt to kill him dead. If it were possible to short-circuit in real life, Zen would surely be doing so.
“What are we?” he manages.
Jumin turns a page in his book. “I believe that’s what I said, yes.”
Zen shakes his head, “We aren’t anything. We don’t have anything to do with each other.”
“I see,” says Jumin, “I assumed that was the case. I just wanted to clarify.”
More silence. Zen continues drumming his fingers on the table, now in the midst of developing a distinct rhythm. To be in this situation, he thinks, is surely the universe’s retribution for all his sins. Which ones? That is yet to be figured out. He begins to replay the interaction in his head, and something bothers him.
Jumin assumed that was the case? What does that mean?
Of course, there’s the obvious interpretation—which is that Jumin took the events of last weekend and deduced that they were the product of a lot of drinking between both parties. Then there’s the explanation Zen falls on, which is that Jumin thinks he’s some kind of commitment-phobic playboy. An astrological leap, to be sure.
And who is Jumin to make this assumption of Zen, who is totally dedicated to anything he puts his mind to— including relationships, thank you very much. Jumin, on the other hand, has probably walked through all of his relationships with indifference, letting them pass as quickly as they arrived. Last weekend probably didn’t even mean anything to him. In fact, that’s probably Jumin’s every weekend, and Zen is one of many—
In the midst of Zen’s spiral, Jumin speaks again, “You can dismiss yourself. I’m waiting on a cup of coffee.”
“—I’m not some kind of playboy, for your information!” exclaims Zen. Jumin looks up at him.
“I see,” he says, “Now, I’m not sure what logical leap you’ve been privately making over there, but rest assured, whatever you think I think of you is absolutely true.”
He’s messing with Zen, now.
“I mean, what do you want us to be?” says Zen, and Jumin seems to think about it for a few seconds.
“I’m impartial,” he says, “I think we have very little compatibility as ‘friends,’” he lifts his hands from his book to put ‘friends’ in air quotes, “so a relationship seems a bit hasty, but I didn’t know if you were the sort of person to care about that sort of thing, so I asked.”
“And what does that mean?” says Zen, tone accusatory, though this whole interaction has been pretty accusatory in general. They’re an accusatory pair.
“Well, I had reason to consider either possibility,” says Jumin, “You seemed to be trying very hard to forget the whole ordeal, but at the same time you did agree to meet me here, which I doubt would happen if you were completely uninterested.”
“It’s not hard to be uninterested in you,” says Zen.
“And yet you’re still sitting here,” retorts Jumin.
“You’re a dick,” says Zen, “and you’re really not funny at all. Or interesting. Or nice.”
“I see,” says Jumin.
“It just makes me so, ugh, to think that I—that you—that we—” says Zen, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Jumin is sitting across for him, observing him curiously.
“So you’ve been thinking about it?” says Jumin, and if Zen didn’t know any better, he’d say that there was a smile forming on his stupid, terrible face. Just awful. The worst. “If it makes you feel better, it was ‘only a kiss.’ Of course, I suppose that comfort depends on how much you value a kiss.”
“If it was with you, not at all,” tries Zen. Jumin nods.
“Same here,” says Jumin, “It was, as Lucien or Yoosung would say, ‘wack.’”
Zen’s brain is short-circuiting again. “Did you just say ‘wack?’”
“Yes, I’ve been meaning to expand my vocabulary to something more current, in order to appear less stiff,” says Jumin, a man who is sitting in a coffee shop in a full suit. Had it been any other day, Zen is certain that said suit would be covered in pale cat hair. “Why are you still sitting here?”
“Why are you?”
“I believe I mentioned that I was waiting on a coffee?”
“Maybe I’m also waiting on a coffee.”
“I think that you’d have to order one in order to wait for it.”
“Die,” says Zen, “I just—nevermind your assumptions of me, what is this whole situation supposed to say about you, Jumin Han?” He tries to say Jumin’s name as if that were an insult in itself. Jumin merely raises an eyebrow.
“That I don’t feel we’re compatible?” he says.
“No! It’s that you’re a playboy!”
“A playboy?”
“A playboy!”
Jumin seems to consider this for a moment. “I suppose, from a certain perspective, it could look that way,” he says. “That said, I consider myself quite conservative with my sensuality.”
Hearing Jumin refer to his sensuality in conversation is quite possibly the worst thing Zen has ever heard. Instead of abruptly vomiting, however, he stands his ground. His very thin, shaky ground. “Well you aren’t! And it’s weird that you’re pretending to be all professional about this situation and trying to say that I don’t value a kiss or whatever. You—you’re weird!”
“Perhaps,” Jumin places his book down on the table, “we would benefit from a reevaluation of the incident. As I recall, it was you who leaned in for the kiss, Zen.”
“Oh, fuck you! That’s not what this is about and you know it—” Zen begins, fully prepared to go into a tirade about how he was drunk and how Jumin was being weirdly cool and how the moment was a particularly bizarre exception, as far as romance goes, but Jumin is just… looking at him. “What?” he says, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“I’m thinking,” Jumin says, and there is the briefest moment of blissful silence before he says, “I don’t find you unattractive,” and Zen once again feels as though he has just been shot.
“I’m sorry, what\—”
“As insufferable as your personality is, you are fairly handsome, and I was fairly drunk at the time,” says Jumin, “and so when you leaned in for the kiss, I was receptive.”
“God. Why are you doing this? Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m merely analyzing the events of last weekend in order to paint a clearer picture of my character, since you insist I fit some kind of ‘playboy’ stereotype,” says Jumin. “Now, I will admit that my decision to introduce tongue to the kiss was very questionable, however—”
“Stop! Stop! I get it! You can stop now!”
“Zen, you are making a scene,” Jumin appears serious at first, before a slight curve appears at the corner of his lips, and he blows some air out of his nose. “Though, I suppose that’s natural for an actor.”
“You’re not funny,” Zen says. God. Thinking about that night is—
(kind of hot)
—awful. What was he thinking? He has to live with the fact that Jumin’s tongue has been in his mouth forever now. This is a travesty.
“Zen,” says Jumin. “Was it such an unpleasant experience for you? Because if so, I—” he stops for a second, as if truly hesitant to say anything further, “I… am sorry.”
He’s apologizing. Holy shit. Zen just got an apology. Out of Jumin.
“What was that?”
“I’m not going to say it again, especially since I was not initially responsible for the incident.” Holy shit. Jumin seems flustered. This is hilarious. And kind of adorable. Or, not adorable—Zen definitely did not refer to Jumin as adorable, but it’s like… well, it’s something, and Zen is all about it.
“No, no, say it! You can’t backpedal.”
“I am,” Jumin sighs, “sorry for making you uncomfortable, if that was the case.”
“Oh, that’s good. I could get used to that.”
“That is an inherently weird statement to make, Zen. I believe you were arguing the point that I was ‘weird,’ earlier, and that only serves as incriminating evidence to your own ‘weirdness.” Jumin is turning a bit pink. “Where’s my coffee? Could you leave? I’d like to drink my coffee in peace.”
“It looks like it’s gonna take a while,” says Zen, “in the meantime, let’s review another point: you find me attractive?”
“Do not get me started, because I seem to remember that your hands certainly found themselves in some interesting places that evening, and—”
“Okay, okay! Point made!” Zen interjects. A few seconds pass, and he lets out a confession. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just thought your apology was really funny.”
“I am going to kill you. I have the money to do so cleanly and without any trace to myself.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” says Zen, dismissive. “So, we’re agreed? We’re forgetting about the whole thing?”
Jumin nods. “It would be a service to the both of us. I mean, just imagine it. If we dated.”
Zen says, “Not possible.”
Jumin adds, “Completely incomprehensible.”
“Disgusting.”
“Terrible.”
“The worst.”
More silence. Extremely, wildly uncomfortable silence. The kind of silence that only occurs between parties with an it’s complicated status on social media.
Zen tries not to think about the kiss, but, well, it’s not like he’s kissed that many people in his life—and Jumin happened to be much more skilled than expected, and it’s hard not to think about that. Zen has barely ever kissed another person with tongue in his life, but Jumin was a total natural. A real team player.
And, well, he isn’t hideous. Kind of the opposite. There’s a reason this guy also models, Zen supposes. A cursory glance to Jumin only serves to confirm this. Sure, he’s pretentious and repulsive, but he does really pull that suit off. His hair looks soft (it is soft. Zen remembers, because one of his hands ran through it when they kissed. The other hand was kind of preoccupied with things below the waist, but whatever. Not relevant, right now) and his skin is immaculate.
“It would be kind of funny,” says Zen, talking before thinking. “If we dated, that is.”
“Oh, it would be hilarious.”
“Maybe we’d do it for, like, a trial run. You know, if I can tolerate you for a month, then you have to pay me some ridiculous amount of money.”
“That wouldn’t be much of a challenge at all. I’m very tolerable. And what would I get if you lost?”
“I have no idea. Maybe I’d have to do something stupid, like babysit Elizabeth or something—”
“Deal.”
Oh.
Oh.
Oh?
“For real?” Zen says, incredulous. “You’d make this stupid bet on the off chance that I would have to watch your stupid cat?”
“Yes, absolutely. It would be hilarious.”
“Well,” says Zen, thinking about his impending sum of money and definitely not thinking about Jumin’s tongue in his mouth, “Then we have a deal.”
“Certainly. We’ll need to work out the details a bit later, perhaps in a written contract—”
“I am not doing a fifty shades style contract with you.”
Jumin shakes his head. “Nothing like that. This would merely cover the terms of the wager, in order to ensure equal chances of winning for both parties. My affinities are none of your business”
“Um, I think they’re totally my business. I’m your trial-run boyfriend.”
This banter would probably go on forever, if not for the sudden presence of Jaehee, who clears her throat. Zen instantly jumps in his seat.
“How long have you been here?” he asks, instantaneously. Jaehee looks at him with some unholy combination of grief and amusement.
“Long enough,” she says, before turning to Jumin. “You ordered coffee?”
This, Zen thinks, is going to bite him in the ass.
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An AU Mafia/Police Feysand fic
A Fic that I started a few years ago and forgot about!
Not sure if I will ever write more, but seemed a shame to never upload it anywhere.
Chapter 2
Feyre pushed open the door to the station, sighing in satisfaction at escaping the heat of the sun. For the past seven days, the sun had shone hard and hot in the sky, and showed no signs of letting up any time soon.
Feyre didn’t mind too much, however, as she was stuck here today, and the weekend too. The station was pleasantly air-conditioned and always seemed to have a constant supply of coffee to get her through the day.
She bid good morning to a few of the other officers as she walked towards the locker room, pulling the sunglasses from her face. Reaching her locker, she found Lucien already at his.
“Good morning, partner,” Feyre said as she opened her locker, placing her sunglasses and bag in and removing her jacket.
“Good morning yourself,” Lucien grinned, holding out a polystyrene cup filled with the steaming liquid.
“By the Cauldron, you are a lifesaver Lucien!”
“Hey, don’t thank me just yet. Big Boss has called a meeting. Maybe want to drink that up asap.”
Feyre huffed, took the cup from her partner’s hand and slammed the locker door shut.
“Best not keep the Chief waiting then.”
***
Ten minutes later, Police Chief Tamlin stepped into the briefing room and silence fell over the officers gathered. Tamlin eyed the room, his eyes resting for a fraction longer on Feyre than anyone else, ensuring all attention was firmly on him.
“Our insider has reported that Hybern and The Night Court are looking to finalise a truce, with the intent of the two factions combining their numbers to launch a takeover of the city’s underground network once and for all.” Tamlin stepped back, motioning to the map of the city currently split into three large sections, and several smaller sections, colour coded to represent the different gang factions that currently “owned” that part of the city.
“We believe they will start by taking over the smaller factions that dominate the Eastern side of the city, and once their number have increased, they will take out the Spring Court in the South. It is unclear what will happen after this point, but even if the initial negotiations are for a fifty/fifty split of the city, we here know that The Night Court and Hybern will likely end up fighting for control of the whole of Prythian city.”
Expression serious, Tamlin gripped the table in front of him tightly.
“We need to stop the merging of these gangs at all costs. The number of civilians that could get caught in the crossfire of these gang wars will be huge, and once the city takeover is complete, Hybern and The Night Court will be practically untouchable! And we think it is difficult to incriminate them now.”
Tamlin’s speech had gotten the officers in the room riled up, and Tamlin was forced to pause while they calmed down again.
“The meeting is set for tomorrow and will be located at a rather well-known pleasure house in the centre of the city. Orders are, we will raid the pleasure house, and arrest as many as possible. If things get violent, we have the authorisation to shoot any that resist. Further details will be sent out throughout the day, so I suggest you all use today to rest up in preparation. Dismissed.”
“Finally, some action!” Feyre grinned at Lucien, standing up and gathering her papers and now empty cup.
“Feyre, a word please.” Tamlin stood at the door to the briefing room. Feyre shot Lucien a look, before following her Captain out of the room, and into his office. She closed the door softly behind her, and then found herself pinned to the wood.
Tamlin pressed himself to Feyre, his lips meeting hers hungrily. Feyre moved into him, her blood heating at his touch. A bark of laughter from outside the room had her pulling away. Tamlin took the opportunity to move his lips to her neck.
“Tam, stop. Tam …” She moaned softly. “We’re in work. It’s not right.” When he didn’t stop, she put her hands onto his shoulders, pushing him away. Tamlin groaned softly, frustrated. “Later, okay? Now, if all you wanted was a good morning kiss, I have some paperwork to fill in so …”
“No, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. Please, have a seat.”
Feyre frowned, moving to sit down in front of Tamlin’s desk. Tamlin stood.
“Tomorrow, when the raid is taking place. You’re staying here.”
“What?!” Feyre stood quickly from the chair. “You’re benching me?!”
“We can’t leave the station undefended Feyre! You will remain here to guard the station, with Lucien.”
“Tamlin. Lucien and I are the best on the force! You are going to need us there and …”
“I have given you my order Feyre. You are not going, and that is final! The last time we moved against Hybern, you were injured. I will not put you in that position again.”
“With all due respect, Sir, that is my job! And there is no one more committed to these Gang wars than Lucien and me!”
“Feyre,” Tamlin’s expression softened and he walked towards her, lifting his hand to caress her cheek. “You will remain behind. As your commanding officer, you will obey me. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate if I knew you were there and in danger. So, you will remain here.”
“Tamlin. Please. I’ve worked so hard on the case against Hybern! Don’t do this to me! Don’t lock me up in here! I will not forgive you if you do …”
“I have made my decision and that is the end Feyre. I will hear no more about this. You are dismissed.”
Feyre opened her mouth, closed it again, opened it again. Tamlin turned from her and moved to sit behind his desk, ignoring Feyre still stood there. Finally, Feyre clenched her fists tightly.
“That’s how you want to play it, then fine Tamlin. But don’t bother coming over tonight.” Feyre turned on her heel, wrenched the door open and slammed it shut behind her.
Without stopping, she stormed past her desk, where Lucien was sat waiting and out through the front door onto the street.
“Feyre …”
“You knew he was going to do this, didn’t you Lucien?! He’s your friend, can’t you talk to him. Make him see sense? We have worked too damn hard to be benched at the last minute …”
“He’s only doing what he thinks is best.”
“Don’t. I can’t be around you if you’re going to defend him!” Feyre started walking away from the station and towards the main road.
“Feyre? Where are you going? Feyre!” Feyre ignored the shouts of her partner, and Lucien did not follow.
***
An hour later found Feyre in a coffee house a few blocks from the station. It was one of her favourite places to come when she wanted to think, and not even Tamlin or Lucien knew about it. The coffee house was set back from the nearby main road, down a small side street, the perfect place to hide. It provided a quiet, peaceful atmosphere and, most importantly, the best coffee in all of Prythian City.
Feyre was sat in her favourite spot, in the back corner of the building, stirring her coffee and doodling on her napkin in a black pen she had found in her jacket. The steam had long since vanished, but still, she didn’t lift the cup to her lips.
No, Feyre was far away, lost in her thoughts, lost in her anger. So much so that she did not notice the approaching figure until they dropped into the seat opposite her.
“Well well well, isn’t this interesting? Hello Feyre darling.”
Feyre’s eyes snapped up, and her blue-grey eyes met the deep, violet eyes of the leader of The Night Court, Rhysand.
Immediately, Feyre straightened up, dropping the pen and releasing the teaspoon.
“Rhysand. What are you doing here? Following me again?”
Rhysand barked out a single laugh, his eyes never leaving Feyre’s.
“Believe me, if I was following you, you would know about it. No, it seems a happy coincidence that our paths have crossed today. I’ve been meaning to have a little chat.”
“Yeah? Well whatever you have to say, I am not interested in hearing Rhysand. So, if that’s everything, leave.” Feyre pulled her face into a grin that looked more like a grimace.
Rhysand tutted. “Feyre darling, your face is too pretty for an expression like that. You don’t want to hear what I have to say? Fine.” He pushed the chair back and stood in one seamless, fluid motion. “But don’t say I didn’t try to warn you when you find out the truth surrounding the PCPD.”
Feyre frowned and watched as Rhysand turned away from her. Feyre could not help but admire his form. In the deepest part of her mind, Feyre knew Rhysand was the most handsome person she had ever seen. The rest of her mind would not let this thought any further than that. But when he turned and smirked at her over his shoulder, her traitorous heart skipped a beat.
“And, Feyre darling. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” With a wink, he was gone.
***
The hours passed, and Feyre eventually returned to the station, ignoring Tamlin’s soft smiles and Lucien’s nervous glances. Instead, she buried herself in her paperwork from the previous day, while Rhysand’s words echoed around her head.
#acotar#acomaf#acowar#feysand#feysand au#feysand fic#mafia/police au#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#Kirstie writes#long buried fics i never posted#acofas
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Friday Night Lights {ACOTAR}
Chapter 2
Summary: Inspired by the series Friday Night Lights. In a town that is obsessed with football, a group of teenagers are glorified for what they bring to the field. But what the people of Velaris don’t realize is that there is a lot more to life than football, and it’s not always pretty.
Revolves around Cassian, Nesta, Elain, Lucien, Azriel, Morrigan, Amren, Feyre, and Rhysand.
*Warning: This fic deals with sensitive material.
*Note: A chapter will be posted every Wednesday.
Click here for previous chapters.
Author’s Note: Hey, guys. I have surgery planned for Wednesday, so I’m going to post this wonderful (debatable) chapter today. Also, I’ve had a few of you ask about being tagged, and I’m sorry to say that I will no longer be doing tags in my fics. With Castaway, they hardly ever worked and I had a few readers get mad because of it. Instead, I have (and will be) tagging every chapter with “TACMC FNL” for your convenience! Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And, as always, i would love to know what you think. :)
Shout out to @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty for helping me with details! <3
Cassian hoped Rhys picked up Alana without a problem.
He had called Velaris Elementary and told them Rhysand Lunasa would be picking her up, although the Lunasas were already on her emergency release form.
And yet, his leg was shaking uncontrollably as he sat in his homeroom classroom to serve his first detention.
In typical Helion fashion, he was late. Even those who ran detention didn’t want to be in detention.
On top of that, their first game was Friday night and Velaris High School’s starting fullback was missing most of practice.
Coach B said he would have to put in extra hours during his afternoon free period to make up for lost time.
Mondays.
He didn’t regret it, though. In fact, every time he thought back to punching Eris in the face, his soul became a little lighter. The dick got what he deserved. Cassian had hoped the news traveled to Mor, he hadn’t seen her since homeroom. She wouldn’t be mad. He wasn’t even sure why she stayed with Eris, after all the shitty things he had done to her. But she was capable of making her own decisions, so Cassian stayed out of it.
Well, mostly. At least on her end.
A small smile tugged on the corner of his lips as the door swung open, and to Cassian’s surprise, it wasn’t Mr. Spellcleaver who walked in.
She was tall, at least she carried herself that way. She wore a heather grey pencil skirt with a white button down and a crimson red scarf, her long golden-brown waves hanging limply down her sides.
But her eyes were what caught Cassian’s attention.
They were like the calm before the storm, lingering over the ocean. Grey-blue, and staring negatively into Cassian’s.
Surely, she couldn’t be in detention. She looked to stuck-up. Too snooty. Too good for that shit.
“Name?” she asked, as she walked to Helion’s desk and sat down.
Cassian looked around the classroom, although they were the only two in there. “Uh, Cassian Nazari? Who the hell are you?”
She looked up from her apparent list, eyes narrowed. “Ms. Archeron. I’ll be overseeing detention, and that sort of language will not be tolerated.”
Cassian blinked. “Archeron? Are you Elain’s sister?”
The girl’s pencil froze from whatever she was writing on her sheet. “Yes.”
“Are you new, too? I didn’t see you today. Are you -“
“I’m not a student here.”
“Ah,” Cassian sighed, leaning back in his chair, as realization hit him. “You’re one of the new aids from the University.”
The aids from Velaris University came every year, although they typically looked older than the girl sitting in front of him. He quirked an eyebrow, which only seemed to annoy her more.
When she didn’t answer, Cassian grinned. “Well, since you’re not a teacher, and apparently we’re going to be spending some time together, don’t you think we should be on a first name basis?”
She put down her pencil and folded her hands on top of the desk. “Do you think that’s something to be proud of? Detention?”
“Are you going to council me, Ms. Archeron?”
The tone in which he spoke her name had her scowling. “No. We can stay quiet, if you wish.”
“Oh, no, I would love to talk to you. How did Elain like her first day?”
She didn’t answer.
“You coming to the game on Friday night?” he tried, again.
“I don’t waste my time at football games.”
“You should,” Cassian said. “If you’re going to be a part of Velaris High –“
“We shouldn’t be speaking,” she interrupted. “This is meant to be punishment, a time for you to do homework.”
Cassian grinned, catching sight of her nametag. Nesta.
“Well, Nesta,” he began, and she scowled at the sound of her name from his lips. “It’s the first day of school. I don’t have homework. And I shouldn’t be punished. My so-called crime is perfectly justified.”
“If you’re trying to get under my skin, it’s not working. Now be quiet.”
“How old are you, anyway?” Cassian asked, not bothering to take a hint. Taking hints when people were annoyed with him was not his style. “You look younger than me. Are you one of those freakishly smart kids that graduated high school at, like, fourteen?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, Nesta’s cheeks began to burn as she turned her attention back to her clipboard.
Cassian chuckled as he pulled the phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. He used to get embarrassed of his phone, because it was all he could afford. It wasn’t the latest iPhone, or whatever other smartphone every else had. His model was made ten years ago and only cost twenty dollars a month to keep activated.
Alana okay? He sent to Rhys.
He replied less than a minute later. Yup. She’s sitting by Coach B on the bleachers while we get ready. She had a good day. : ) She’s excited to tell you about it.
Cassian let out a breath. Good. She had a good day. That was a good sign.
He glanced at the clock.
Five minutes.
He had only been in detention for five minutes.
“What’s your name?”
Elain blinked down at the little girl beside her. She hadn’t even realized she was there.
Her tanned skin was kissed by the sun, as if she had spent all Summer playing outdoors, and her long, curly brown hair was just as lovely as her hazel eyes.
“Elain,” she laughed, quietly. “What’s yours?”
“Alana,” she grinned, her two front teeth missing. “I’m five. My brother plays football. Does yours?”
“No,” Elain sighed. “No, I have no brothers. I do have sisters, though. One of them wants to be a teacher, and the other likes to paint.”
“Do you like to paint?” she asked, curiously. “I do.”
“Do you? I’m sure you’re a beautiful painter.”
The young girl smiled again as a tall, blonde girl approached them.
Elain recognized her immediately from a few of her classes.
“Mor!” Alana beamed, jumping to her feet and running into the arms of the blonde.
Mor smiled and brushed back her hair. “Hey, pretty girl. How was school?”
“Great! Are you gonna do cheerleading?”
“Yes,” Mor said, finding Elain. “I see you already met our new cheerleader. Elain?”
“Yep,” she said, rising to her feet and brushing down her gym shorts – a nervous habit. “I, um, have never done this before. Our last school was too small to form a squad, but I’ve always wanted to try it. I’m sorry if I’m awful, but I’ll do my best not to be. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m babbling –“
Mor just laughed, keeping Alana close to her side. “It’s okay. I’m captain, and what I say goes. And I say that you are more than welcome on the squad, and if you’re struggling, I’ll be more than happy to help you in any way I can. There’s no need to be nervous.”
Elain froze. It’s not that she expected Mor to be mean, but…..well, no that was it. And she felt awful for judging.
“Where’s Cass, Mor?” Alana asked, breaking the silence. “He said he was going to get me from school, but he didn’t.”
Mor crouched down to Alana’s height, and brushed a curly black lock behind her ear. “He’ll be here soon. He was naughty today.”
Alana rolled her eyes. “Again?”
Mor chuckled. “Yeah, what can you do? Boys.”
Alana giggled then held out her hand to Elain, which she amusingly shook. “It was nice to meet you, Elain. You will make a fine cheerleader.”
Then, she walked onto the football field and sat down on the bench, by a man that Elain assumed was the coach.
“She sure has a way with words for someone so young,” Elain said.
Mor smiled, wistfully. “Yeah, she does. That girl is special.” Then, as if she noticed Elain’s curious glance, Mor cleared her throat. “Well, come with me. Let me introduce you to the girls. I think you’re going to have fun.”
As they were walking to the sidelines, a tall boy with red hair came up behind them and smacked Mor on the ass. Mor didn’t even look back, she simply rolled her eyes. “Don’t mind him. That’s Eris. He’s a dick, but I don’t feel like making a scene right now. Not in front of Alana.”
Elain glanced nervously at the boy, with his broad shoulders and throbbing veins. “Does he…..do that kind of stuff to everyone?”
Mor quirked a brow before realizing what she was actually asking. “Oh, no, don’t worry about him. He won’t touch you. He’s my…..my boyfriend.”
Elain caught herself from asking why she stuttered, but she simply nodded her head and continued with the rest of their walk in silence.
“Good afternoon, ladies!” Mor called out once they reached the group that was gathering, placing her hands on her hips. “This is Elain, she is the newest member of our squad. It’s her first time cheering, so I expect you all to be helpful and encouraging.”
To Elain’s surprise, she was greeted with clapping and cheers. They all gave her a smile, except for the one on the end. Noticing where she was looking, Mor chuckled. “That’s Amren. Don’t let her fool you, she’s cheery inside.”
Elain quickly looked away from the small, black-haired female before their eyes could connect. “She doesn’t seem like the….”
“Cheerleader type?” Mor laughed, finishing her question. “No, she doesn’t. But her form is great, and she’s our flyer. She’s into gymnastics, but since Velaris doesn’t offer gymnastics, she joined the squad in hopes to stay in the same line of work. As close as she could get, anyway. Don’t judge too fast, though. She’ll surprise you.”
Elain, panicked, began to tell Mor that she wasn’t trying to judge, but got cut off.
“Mor?”
The two girls spun around, and Elain stopped.
So did the boy who was walking toward them, dressed in football pads and carrying his helmet by the facemask.
Mor’s grin turned wicked as she glanced between Azriel and Elain, as the two stared at one another in timid silence.
Azriel showed no emotion – none except for the crimson patches on his tanned cheeks.
He was in all of Elain’s classes but one, which was yearbook, which she excitedly decided to take thanks to Lucien’s recommendation.
Azriel always sat on the opposite end of the room as she did, but she caught him watching her a few times throughout the day.
And couldn’t stop the tingly sensation that sat in the pit of her stomach when she did.
“Sorry,” Azriel cleared his throat, at last, and looked to Mor as he raked a scarred hand through his dark hair. Elain couldn’t help but stare at the scars, at the way they completely ruined and mutilated his flesh. And yet, she didn’t stare because it was horrifying. She just simply couldn’t look away. “Um, Rhys wants to take us all out for pizza after practice. Wanna come?”
She looked to Azriel, then Elain saw her look further down the field – at Eris. “Yeah, sure, that would be great.”
Azriel looked to Elain, and cleared his throat, again. “Uh, would you like to come?”
“Oh,” Elain stopped, and she knew she was blushing. “No, that’s okay. I – my sisters will be expecting me. We just moved, and we’re still settling in. I don’t want to – no, that’s – I don’t want to impose.”
Azriel’s lips flattened as he pursed them, and nodded. He didn’t say anything else as he tugged on his helmet and jogged to the middle of the field.
Mor turned to Elain and raised her brows. “He was flirting with you.”
“He was?” Elain asked, incredulously. “He kinda looked like he wanted to set me on fire.”
“Trust me, I’ve known Az a long time,” Mor grinned. “He was flirting with you.”
And with that, she turned to the group, and practice began.
Elain tried to focus on what she had to learn, but she couldn’t get his face out of her mind.
And the shadows that seemed to linger over his shoulders.
Feyre sat high up on the bleachers, doodling in her notebook as practices were in full bloom on the field below.
She hated football. Football players were always stuck up and conceited, and she thought it was better to just stay away.
But Elain wanted to cheer, and Feyre supported whatever she did, so it looked like Feyre would be spending quite a bit of time by that damned field.
Nesta plopped down next to Feyre and sighed, forcing her to stop her pencil from moving and look at her sister. “Bad day?”
“No,” Nesta sighed. “No, it was okay. Mr. Collins is making me watch over detentions, though, and it’s just…..strange. I’m supposed to be in charge, but I’m only a year older than the seniors. It feels.....I don’t know. I feel like a child. Like a fake.”
Nesta had graduated early, thanks to her mass knowledge in pretty much every subject. She was halfway through University at nineteen, and Feyre had always admired her for such things.
“Someone already got detention?” Feyre chuckled. “It’s the first day of school.”
Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, one of the football players. Cassian Nazari. And his mouth is filthy. And I swear he was trying to flirt with me, which is extremely inappropriate.”
“You’re only a year older,” Feyre reminded her.
“But I work here,” Nesta rolled her eyes.
Feyre couldn’t help but laugh at Nesta’s fit. “Well, I’m sure he can’t stay in detention forever. Then you can move on.”
Nesta didn’t answer, she simply looked out onto the field where a boy was just now coming out of the locker room. “There he is. The little prick.”
Feyre smirked, but there was nothing little about him. He was huge. Fit. Beautiful, if Feyre had to admit. Even though the fact of his attraction was completely obvious.
She saw him run to number 16, which she recognized as Rhysand, the douche from gym, and slap him on the back before taking his place on the field.
“Wait – why are you scowling?” Nesta asked, genuinely curious.
“Speaking of pricks,” Feyre muttered before shaking her head. “I had a hell of a day.”
“Bad?” Nesta asked, her shoulders becoming tense.
Nesta had a tendency to come off like she didn’t care, although she had come a long way since their mother died. But it was little things like that, like the tensing up of her upper body, that made Feyre remember just how much their elder sister cared.
Nesta did take her and Elain out of their father’s home. If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have moved them ninety miles away – to Velaris.
“Not bad,” Feyre sighed. “Just…..I don’t know. New, I guess.”
Nesta nodded, as if she understood but wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m sure it will get better though,” Feyre continued. “Looks like Elain is enjoying herself, at least.”
Elain was in the middle of a line of cheerleaders, her blue and black pom-poms up in a high V.
“She deserves it,” Nesta said, eyeing Elain on the field below. “She’s too kind to have lived the life we have so far.”
Feyre agreed. If anyone of them deserved a better life, it was Elain.
Elain had been the one to try and take the spot of “mother” after theirs had passed away, even though she was only a year older than Feyre, and a year younger than Nesta. It was in her blood, the love and care that only people like Elain could show.
Yet, she suffered the same as the rest of them. But she looked happy, with her arms in the air, chanting whatever foolishness she was chanting. And she was smiling.
And that was enough for Feyre, at least for now.
If Elain could find happiness in this starlit hell, perhaps she could, too.
#tacmc fnl#short chapter#i didn't want to make too many scenes tho#sorry#acotar#friday night lights#fanfic#fanfiction
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if you want (a tdbm, lucien/jean fic)--chapter 2/2
part 1 here
i had a very stressful day today at work and therefore a lot of wine. should i probably have waited until i was sober to write this? probably! but, here we are! and now part 2!
angst, 1466 words
Jean stood in the kitchen, alone. How had the night gone so wrong so fast? Lucien’s words rang in her ears: If you want, we can end our engagement here. We can go back to how it used to be....
With a broken sob, Jean collapsed into the kitchen chair, eyes stinging with tears. She covered her mouth with her hand, taking deep breaths. Her mind raced as she frantically replayed every action and tried to see it through his eyes.
Not wearing the engagement ring. Pulling away at any overly amorous advances. Not holding his hand or taking his arm in public. Insisting on the clandestine nature of their relationship.
She closed her eyes, heart heavy, and wiped at the last few tears rolling down her cheeks. She could see it now: every action slowly chipping away at him, sowing doubt within his heart.
And tonight, at the moment she was meant to reassure him how silly he was, how much she loved him, she had been struck mute.
She needed to fix this. Now.
Jean wiped at her cheeks and took deep, steading breaths before standing and clearing away the now-cold tea, forming a plan. She would march right into his study and knock sense into him. Tell him how much she loved him, that she could never be ashamed of him, that she would never choose her reputation over him.
She dried her hands on the tea towel and felt her bare ring finger, rubbing at the place where his ring should sit.
With a determined turn of her heel, Jean headed for his study, turning the handle, intending to barge in. She wouldn’t let him hide behind this damn door.
But the door didn’t move.
He had locked it.
Locked it against her.
No matter where they had stood, he had never, never, locked this door against her. She felt her heart pick up its beat. How could she tell him how wrong he was when he wouldn’t let her in?
Leaning her forehead against the door, Jean knocked gently. “Lucien, please, let me explain.” No answer. She wrapped her knuckles on the door again, more insistently. “Please, Lucien.”
She heard the clink of glass and movement beyond the door, but the door remained locked.
“I’ll stay out here all night, if I need to. You need to let me explain, please.”
Perhaps it was the urgency in her voice, perhaps it was the kick at the door she added for good measure, but finally the lock clicked and the door swung open.
Lucien stood in the doorway, eyes rimmed red, and a glass of scotch in his hand. He smiled at her and gave her a little bow, “Mrs. Beazley.”
She felt the sting of that name as if he had slapped her. She had long stopped being ‘Mrs. Beazley’ to him many months ago. In fact, she herself had stopped thinking of herself as Mrs. Beazley; instead preferring to imagine the day she would be addressed as Mrs. Blake.
Jean shook her head at him and said softly, “Don’t do that.”
Lucien laughed, but the sound was hollow and forced. “But that’s what you want, isn’t it? You are Mrs. Beazley, the housekeeper, and nothing ever happened between us. Nothing.”
He turned away from her, draining the last remnants of his glass, before stumbling to the bar and refilling. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Are you drunk?”
Taking his full glass over to his desk, he collapsed in his chair, spilling a bit of scotch onto his trousers. “Indeed, I am!”
“You’ve only been in here for thirty minutes!”
Lucien shrugged, taking another sip. “Drinking is just about the only thing I’m good at Jean.” Another sip. “Not a good son. Not a good father. Definitely not a good husband.” He relaxed back into the chair, arms spread wide. “I can see why you don’t want to be married to me, Jean. I’m a failure of a man and you,” he looked at her, eyes shining. “You deserve much better. I’ve always known it.”
He shrugged and took another sip, wincing at the burn. “I guess I was always waiting for you to realize it. And you have so,” he finished with a shrug. “That’s that.”
Jean stood before him, heart racing and heart breaking. How could he think this of himself?
She walked over to him and took the glass from him, hushing his protest, then perched herself on the edge of his desk and took his hands in hers. Be brave, Jean, she thought.
“Lucien, I don’t want to be separated from you. That’s the last thing I want.” She saw him open his mouth to argue but she leaned over and put her fingers over his lips. “You’ve said your bit, now let me say mine.”
He nodded wordlessly against her fingers, eyes downcast.
“I love you, Lucien Blake. I know we don’t say it enough and I know I don’t always show you, but I do. So much.” She swallowed, thinking over her words carefully. “Your suggestion that we end our engagement surprised me. That’s why I didn’t say anything. And I didn’t know I was hurting you all this time. It just all came out at once and I was still processing.”
Absentmindedly, she began rubbing small circles on the back of his hand and continued, “You’re right. My reputation in town matters to me. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does. And being engaged to you causes talk. When I don’t wear my engagement ring, I don’t do it to hurt you and I don’t do it because I’m ashamed of you. I do it to protect us--to protect me. But I promise, you are more important than what any doddering old biddy has to say about us.”
She slid from the edge of the desk into his lap, pleased when he wrapped his arms around her waist instead of pushing her away. She stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple.
“Jean...”
She hushed him. “I’m not done telling you off, yet.” Another kiss to his temple and she took the tightening of his arms around her as a sign to continue.
“I promise, I will wear your ring with pride every day. I promise to take your hand each time you reach for me. I promise to kiss you more often and to trust in you. I promise to--”
But she was cut off by his kiss and she started, surprised, before pressing her lips back against his. He pulled away, smiling happily. “Just checking you’re still keeping your promise.”
She rolled her eyes at him and smoothed her hand over his hair and watched as he closed his eyes and nuzzled into her touch. My sweet, broken man.
She had spent so much time hung up on her own insecurities she hadn’t stopped to think of his own. His words from earlier came back to her: A failure of a son. A failure of a father. A failure of a husband.
Jean took his head in her hands and forced him to look at her. This was too important for him to miss. “You are not a failure, Lucien.” He dropped his eyes from hers but she ducked down, determined to maintain eye contact. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of the man you are. You did the best you possibly could with Li. And what of the way you acted as father for Danny? For Mattie? Even Charlie?”
She watched as his cheeks flushed with her praise and she made a promise to herself to tell him more often how amazing she thought him.
Jean stroked her thumb over his cheek and continued, “And I am going to be so, so proud to call you husband.”
That seemed to be too much for Lucien. He surged against her, pulling her against him and slotting his mouth over hers, greedily kissing her. His hands clutched at her and she sighed against him.
He broke the kiss and leaned against her, pulling her more firmly against him as he leaned back in the chair. They sat in his study’s chair, cuddling closely, and exchanging gentle touches for a few minutes more.
“Lucien?”
He hummed against her in answer, eyes still closed and savoring the feel of her against him.
“Don’t ever lock this door to me again.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, vowing to himself no more secrets, no more walls between them, no more miscommunications.
“Never again, love.”
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“I can’t stay away.” [Part 1] [Nesta x Cassian]
a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE i hope you all like it!!! this is my first nessian fic, and it’s mainly from Cassian’s POV. let me know if you can’t wait for the next parts! and i’d LOVE to hear your thoughts, seriously they give me life and inspiration! also THANK YOU SO MUCH to Bianca aka @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks for reading the early draft of this for me and offering awesome advice and constructive criticism, this piece would not be what it is right now without her!!!
NOTE: MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! I also recommend reading Wings and Embers if you enjoy Nessian fics, the Target-exclusive chapter in ACOMAF!
FST: Moth’s Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit
Word Count: 2280
Parts: [ teaser ] [ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3 ] [ part 4 ] [ part 5 ]
Read it on: [ fanfiction.net ] [ archive of our own ]
"Dear friend as you know,
Your flowers are withering,
Your mother's gone missing,
Your leaves have drifted away.
But the clouds are clearing up
And I've come reveling
Burning incandescently
Like a bastard on the burning sea"
- Moth's Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit
Cassian
It had been a week and a half since Hybern's War ended, and Cassian wondered if perhaps he should write Nesta a letter.
What would he even say? Dear Nesta… I'm sorry about your father, but maybe training with me will help? Oh, and by the way, thanks for throwing your body over mine when the gods-damned King of Hybern tried to kill us both…?
Yeah, right. Cassian shook his head in irritation, his dark hair falling across his face. He frowned into the heavy, crystal tumbler he held, half-full of whiskey. What was it about words that made them so hard to grasp when he needed them the most?
During the first few days after the war ended, Cassian had gone to visit the Illyrian families of fallen warriors to mourn and pay his respects.
But afterwards, he returned to Velaris where he watched Nesta dutifully attend meals and push food around on her plate, barely speaking to anyone save for Feyre and Elain. Nesta just sat there with a cool, blank expression on her face, sitting and watching everyone.
Breakfast this morning was no different. Even though Elain had arranged freshly cut lilies and chrysanthemums in a slim, patterned vase, Cassian felt like he was watching the flowers wither in front of him.
Since the war ended, Nesta had holed herself up in her room nearly every day. Occasionally, she would have Feyre or Azriel fly her up to the House of Wind so she could sit in her favorite armchair at the library to read, preferring to be alone and undisturbed.
Cassian had been relying on Rhysand and Azriel as well, as his wings were out of commission after the war. But after a few days of rest and applying healing salve, his wings had healed enough for him to fly up to the House of Wind.
He hesitantly circled above, unsure of whether to go in and talk to Nesta or not. Imagined conversations started and trailed off in his mind as he warred internally.
During the few times he had mustered the courage to confront her, his usual verbal prods and cheeky remarks barely provoked a reaction from her, nothing like the barbed responses she usually volleyed back.
So he stayed away for a few more days, trying to give her space even though it deeply concerned him that she seemed to be slowly wasting away before his eyes.
Even her sisters looked worried, often swapping anxious glances. He once overheard them murmuring about whether Nesta might snap, whether the death of their father was just too much for her after all she had been through.
Elain was also mourning their father's death, but the Spring Court fox, Lucien Vanserra, had stuck around to comfort her. He had met Mr. Archeron while on his mission to find the firebird queen, and however brief their time together was, hearing Lucien speak about her father seemed to bring Elain some comfort.
And Azriel often visited Elain while she was tending her gardens, which improved her mood significantly. Lucien seemed resigned to their budding friendship.
Feyre had the Morrigan and her mate Rhysand for support, but even so… The three sisters were now orphaned, since their mother passed away long ago…
Standing on the balcony at the House of Wind, Cassian stared at the glowing lights of the city and ruminated on how much the situation had changed in just a few weeks. How before the culmination of the war, Elain had been the one who was in shock, who needed her soul soothed. How Azriel had been the one to hear and see what she needed, and Azriel had even given her Truth-teller, which saved both his and Nesta's damn necks…
Thinking about the Shadowsinger, Cassian had no choice but to begrudgingly acknowledge his brother Azriel seemed to have a knack with the Archeron women. Probably had to do with the fact that the dark-haired Illyrian was not only tall and handsome, but also mysterious with his shadows and all.
Cassian snorted and flexed his left fingers. I'm going to pummel him into the dirt next time we spar.
He wondered whether Azriel might have better luck talking to Nesta, but the thought sent both a jolt of jealousy and annoyance through his mind.
No. She's mine, he growled to himself, instinctively, the mating bond ringing in his head. Mine to take care of…
But then he shook his head violently, as if trying to fling the thoughts from his mind. No, not yet… Not yet. Maybe not ever, with how things are going. She doesn't even want to see me, let alone talk to me…
He wished that Nesta responded to his customary humor, how he dealt with serious situations. Idly, Cassian wondered how mad she'd be if he just left her a note that said, "Dear Nes, Can I touch your butt? Love, Cass," but he shook his head and tried to wipe the smirk off his face before someone asked him what he was laughing about. Perhaps one day, she would be more open and less… guarded around him.
"Why do you have that smarmy smirk on your face?" Mor breezed onto the balcony wearing one of her typical Night Court dresses, a long, pale yellow dress with geometric cutouts that put her golden-brown skin on display.
Cassian hid his irritation; Mor had a penchant for catching him off-guard. Instead, he replaced the remnants of his smirk with a lazy grin as he beheld her swishing towards him.
So different from the classic gowns Nesta usually wears, Cassian mused… Glancing down at his glass of whiskey, he took another swig for still thinking of Nesta.
Mor surveyed him as she awaited his answer, taking in his dark leathers and the swords strapped to his back. Typical Illyrian attire.
"Nothing," he replied smoothly, "Just glad to be alive, that's all."
Mor arched her perfect eyebrows, her red lips pursed reproachfully. "Me too. You were really cutting it close this time, you know, Cassian?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, although he could see in her eyes that she was relieved he was safe. And whole.
He nodded and turned to face the shining city, placing his scarred hands on the white balustrade. Mor's heels clicked as she stepped next to him, her wine glass clinking against the plaster as she stared up into the night sky.
They stood outside the House of Winds, enjoying the cool breeze and the smattering of stars glimmering overhead in the cloudless sky.
The silence was companionable at first, but gradually, Cassian felt a tension creep up, a slight unease emanating from Mor. She was staring down into the depths of her wine glass, as if she could simply divine the answers she sought if she squinted at the dregs of red wine hard enough.
Finally, she spoke, hesitantly. "Cassian… go to her," she said softly, "She needs you. And… you need her."
He didn't have to ask to know she was talking about Nesta.
Cassian gripped the crystal tumbler tighter, swirling the last few mouthfuls of whiskey that skimmed the bottom of the glass. "She… needs space. And time." He didn't know how many times he had repeated the words to himself. He downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass.
Mor snorted delicately, but the tone in her voice was… honest, resigned. "Listen to yourself. Just look at me, look how much time I've had. Years. Centuries. And it's never gotten me anywhere." She spoke candidly, and her demeanor was casual… but still, Cassian had known her long enough to see through the pretense, to see that she was anticipating his response.
He stilled and really looked at Mor then, his hazel eyes meeting her brown ones. An emotion he couldn't quite place stirred beneath the cool mask on her face.
Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly. Just as he suspected, something was different about her… Not bad, just different.
She broke the gaze first, turning to face the city and the skyline again. Blowing stray blonde strands from her face, the swirling emotion finally revealed itself; she looked chagrined. "Feyre and I… we exchanged… words during the battle… I was furious that she went off to chase the Suriel on her own, that she nudged me towards the battlefield, and as High Lady, she didn't trust me enough to tell me her plans…" She took a deep breath and let it out noisily.
Mor turned to face him, her face illuminated by the moonlight, her brown eyes bright and defiant. Swirling with strength and… conviction. And some fear, beneath it all.
"Cassian… I prefer women." She blew out a breath, her golden cheeks slightly flushing with color. "I haven't… admitted it or embraced it, even though I know how I feel won't change. But… my family, Hewn City…"
Mor's eyes squeezed shut as her face twisted and her body tensed. "What Rhys did… He let them into Velaris. Our home. My home…" She paused. "My sanctuary."
Her eyes finally opened and found his, and they were full of a deep, ancient sadness. Cassian didn't know what to say, so he just watched her, her chest heaving…
"We'll find a way through it. Together. We won't let them touch you." Cassian turned to face her.
Mor's eyes were full of agony, but then they shuttered. "They don't deserve this place," she said softly, miserably.
Cassian moved to put a head on her shoulder. "I know," he said. "They don't. But remember what Amren said before… she may have given up the essence of her past being, but she's still High Fae, and I have no doubt she'll still be able to keep the order and peace in this city." Mor nodded, although tears still threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes.
They both looked out at the city again. Cassian blew out a breath. "And who knows, maybe this place will change them."
Mor shot him an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"
Cassian answered with a feral grin. "Well, the alternative is death. If they can't behave, we'll just spike their heads to the front gate and make an example of them."
Mor cracked a small smile at that, although her bottom lip wobbled.
"So... you prefer women, then? Is that why you spent all that time at Rita's?" Cassian probed.
"Yeah, Rita's… and after all that's happened, that's why… all this time, with Az…" Her eyes shuttered as if she were in pain, as if she couldn't bring herself to think about how she had hurt Azriel throughout the years, the centuries.
Cassian just stared at her, unblinking for a moment, before cocking his head, weighing his response.
She was right; it didn't matter to him which gender Mor preferred. All he wanted was for… for Mor to be happy. And Az too, although he'd always been slightly jealous of his friend's fixation with the Morrigan.
And… Cassian had suspected that something was different with Mor, although he had always shoved the thoughts from his mind, thinking that the right to do was to let the Morrigan sort out her own truths. Like the rest of the Inner Circle had, for centuries.
But after so many years of coming between her and Azriel, he knew something wasn't quite right, that they weren't meant to be tied together because the mating bond should have snapped into place within five centuries…
"Cassian," Mor's voice was low and commanding, snapping Cassian from his thoughts, "Go to her. Don't talk to her like you talk to me. Don't treat her like you treat me, because she's not like us. She's not one of us."
Cassian just stared and stared at her then, while thoughts and images of Nesta flooded through his mind, unspoken conversations starting and ending as he agonized over what to say.
But he finally nodded, and unfurled his wings. His eyes met hers, and Mor looked… sorrowful, but contemplative. More… at peace with herself than Cassian had seen before.
"You know it doesn't matter to me, who you love, who you prefer… As long as you're happy. Have you told Rhys?" he asked softly. Mor's brown eyes trailed the edges of his repaired wings.
She nodded, looking somewhat guiltily. "Yeah, I told him before you… But that's because he and Feyre are mated." She made a long-suffering face and Cassian laughed. "She said she wouldn't tell him, but that stupid bat would've somehow found out anyway, and I wanted him to hear it from me."
"We'll protect you from your family, no matter what. But, you need to tell Az," he told her firmly. "Yourself."
Mor lifted her chin but looked unhappy. "I know. Will it… change things? Between us all?"
Cassian scanned her eyes and shrugged. One side of his mouth quirked up. "I mean, it won't change what's happened already… but maybe it will bring you both peace. Truth sets us free, and all that, remember?"
Smiling crookedly, he flicked her nose with his finger and then launched himself into the clear, night sky before Mor could do anything more than cry out in retaliation. He smirked to himself, catching an updraft with his widespread wings, steering himself towards Rhys and Feyre's townhouse.
Towards Nesta.
Ever since the War, the bond had felt more real to him, more tangible, and he unconsciously brushed it…
Nesta, Nesta, Nesta… even the winds and skies knew her; they carried her name and whispered it in his ear as he soared in her direction, following the tug from his heart.
#i can't stay away fic#nessian#nesta x cassian#nessian fic#acowar#acowar spoilers#acomaf#acotar#nesta archeron#feyre x rhysand#morrigan#azriel#post-acowar#katnip writes
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Queen’s Choice: Part 3
This is the third chapter to a multi-part smutty fic with the MLQC boys. If you haven’t read it, here’s part 1 and part 2.
I sit in a coffee shop trying to read while I wait for him, but can’t manage to concentrate. I’m nervous and excited to finally see him, but also angry and frustrated with how he always manages to keep me at arm’s length.
When we’re together he jokes about being my boyfriend, has supposedly made his phone’s home screen a picture of us, and pretends to be jealous whenever one of the guys texts and we’re together.
What started as a lie, I think, turned into something real and at this point it’s fair to say that I’ve now seen all sides of him - the good and the not so good.
I’ve told him that I don’t believe he’s “bad” because even when he is, there’s still a gentleness in the way he interacts with me and a tenderness in his touch. I’ve asked him not to pull away from me, time and time again, but how often do I write only to have emptiness stretch out in response?
He returns on his time and it both aggravates and excited me.
Perhaps it was kismet that he wrote when he did, and lord knows I jumped on the opportunity to line this up.
With him, I might only get one chance before he disappears.
Maybe only one before Ares becomes more important than Lucien.
I’ve wondered if we’re star crossed lovers, trapped on opposite sides of an incoming war, or perhaps he’s just not that into me.
Maybe this is all a game to him.
These are the thoughts that plague me as I sit with my book, pretending to read so he won’t think I’m thinking about him incessantly, waiting for his arrival.
Even though I am.
—
He arrives a few minutes late but mostly on time, approaching me from behind and giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze before taking a seat across from me. That’s when I *really* register that he’s actually here in front of me.
“How long has it been?” he asks, full well knowing.
“Two months and fifteen days,” I say. “Not that I’ve been counting...”
“Of course not. I didn’t miss you at all.”
“Me neither.”
I can’t tell what the tension is exactly but it’s there and it’s palpable. The waitress interrupts us to take his order and I take a breath, steadying myself to find out what this is instead of continuing to dance around it.
I love the way he moves, how his slender fingers gently handle every thing he touches from a stupid drink menu to me. I feel pulled to him but I also know that the attraction is impossible.
We could never really be together...
...right?
He turns to me when he’s finished ordering his americano and his eyes twinkle with what I interpret as affection.
“So what has my silly girl been up to while she’s been away from me?” He asks and I feel the nervousness bubble up.
I’m about to change everything and I’m scared I’ll miss him too much if I do this. I’m scared the pain will be unbearable if he leaves my life for good, all the while knowing that I can’t not escalate things.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“But I thought you didn’t miss me?”
I pause for a moment and then ask what I’ve been wanting to ask but have been too afraid to get an answer to.
“Why didn’t you write? Why did you pull away?”
He shrugs and sighs.
“Because...it was for the best.”
“So what changed?”
He meets my gaze again with that gentleness in his eyes and says, “Because I’m more selfish than I ever thought.”
“Selfish? But -“
The waitress interrupts us with his drink and my mind races trying to understand how he sees his selfishness. I see it every time he disappears without asking and makes decisions about whatever we are by himself.
“I’m sorry,” he says unprompted and I balk. “I know you can’t trust me but I want you to care for me at least.”
“I already do. You’re selfish for not wanting me to trust you, you know.”
“I can’t...”
“Yeah I know.”
I sigh. I’m just as much a fool. We shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.
But the pull is just too strong.
And it’s now or never.
“I get to be selfish today then,” I say firmly and my tone isn’t lost on him. He raises an eyebrow, unable to reply mid sip to my retort.
“And what does that mean?”
—
20 minutes later we are back at my place. All the subtext and flirtation and indirectness is gone and replaced with a desire to lose ourselves for the day. That’s the deal we made. There’s no talking about how this could work or what the future is like, there’s just today.
The door begins to shut and he uses my body to close it - pinning my arms above my head as he kisses me, really kisses me, for what feels like the first time. There’s no light grazing of lips or pecks on the cheek and warmth that lingers. Instead his mouth is pressed into mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth, and my soft moans the only sounds in the room. It’s not rough, but it is firm and purposeful and I feel incredibly wanted in a way I’ve always questioned if he wanted me.
We don’t speak.
Eventually my hands are released because he wants to touch me and I want to touch him. We don’t separate, we stumble over each other, still kissing and make our down my short hallway, past my couch, and onto my bed. I’m running my hands through his hair and over his arms and finally down to undo his belt.
He’s done the same with me, taking his hands away from cupping the back of my head to unbuttoning my blouse and pulling down my bra to reveal my breasts. He breaks away from my mouth to suck on my neck and then my chest as his hands run under my skirt and up between my legs.
I moan because it feels so good and because I’ve wanted this for so long.
“Lucien please,” I beg at his teasing and he smiles at me.
“I don’t want to rush anything.”
“I get to be selfish, remember?”
He stares at me the way he did these past few years, despite being half naked and begging him to take me. Those slender fingers I find so elegant slide my underwear off before sliding into me.
It feels so good but it’s not what I want and he knows it. With his other hand he’s touching what I want, underneath his underwear and I feel impatient and desperate for him.
“You’re not playing fair!” I complain but he smiles at me.
“You seem to quite like what I’m doing...”
I can’t deny that I do. But it’s not enough.
“Please Lucien.”
I hear myself begging but I can’t stop myself.
“Please.”
--
He’s gentle when he climbs on top and enters me. I’m surprised if I’m being honest. I thought he’d want to tie me up or do all sorts of adventurous things to me. But instead he takes me gently and I find myself wrapping my arms around him.
My blouse is still on and my skirt pushed up and there’s something about the fact that we aren’t fully naked that turns me on.
It’s as if this was all so rushed that we couldn’t be bothered to shed our clothes and I feel a mix of his skin and fabric brushing against me. His movements and breath accelerate before he slows everything down, bringing me close to the edge and then teasing a full stop.
I didn’t expect to continue begging him once I’d gotten what I thought I wanted, but I am.
“Lucien, please!” I say again and I can feel him smiling even though I can’t see his face which is nestled in the crook of my neck.
He pushes himself up so he can look down at me.
“If you tell me you love me.”
He’s moving exactly how I want him to and he knows it. He supports his weight on one of his hands and the other creeps up my front and plays with my breast as he whispers, “Just for today...Say you love me just for today...”
“I love you just for today.”
“Silly girl.”
I can tell he’s disappointed by my answer, but he doesn’t hold back from there. My “Please Lucien” is replaced by cries of “Yes” until we both collapse, sweaty and tired but satisfied. I miss his warmth the moment he pulls out but am surprised by how he fixes my bra and shirt before pulling me into his arms.
We’re there for a moment and just as I’m about to ask about the “love” request he kisses my cheek and says, “I’ll make us some decaf.”
--
He doesn’t bother fixing himself as he normally would, and brings the coffee to me in bed with his shirt in a state of disarray and his pants unbuttoned but on.
“Thanks,” I say taking it from him, wondering if he’s going to disappear after today or if this meant something to him.
I’m realizing it meant something to me.
There’s a silence that stretches out as we sip our coffee, and I try to remember when was the last time he made it for me. He’d showed me how when he still lived next door but somehow I can never quite make it like he does.
His voice interrupts my thoughts and he says, “I get jealous, you know.”
He says it in a way that I realize he’s been thinking about this for some time and that the statement is sincere. When I cock my head in confusion he pulls something up to show me.
I think I understand what he’s saying and feel myself blush.
“You don’t play fair, you know? How do I see that and approach you?”
“That wasn’t about you! Anna had...”
He cuts me off, shaking his head.
“I want you to love just me, and I understand that you don’t. That you can’t. That I don’t let you.”
“Oh.”
The room falls silent for a moment and he breaks it by saying quietly, “That’s why I want you to love me. To say it. Even if it was just for today.”
“I...”
“But you love them too?”
I freeze for a moment, but I think about how much I hate the fact that one day I will have to pick just one. It feels like a knife through my heart thinking that they won’t be in my life and yet there’s no other way.
“It’s confusing,” I finally get out and to my surprise he gently pats my head.
“For me too. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
It’s evening now and the sky has grown dark and cloudy. There’s a clap of thunder in the distance and I hear the pitter patter of rain on my window.
“I don’t want you to go,” I finally say.
“I can’t stay.”
“What if you could?”
We both want him to, I know it. He knows it.
He shakes his head anyway.
“It was just for today.”
--
When he leaves I watch him exit from my apartment and I can’t help but feel sad. The other encounters left me feeling empowered and satisfied, and yet this one has me feeling heartbroken.
I wonder if he feels the same and if I’ll see him again.
I wonder if he’d even let me pick him as the one.
The thought of losing him ignites something within me and before I know it I’m running after him. I catch up to him and throw my whole self onto him, stopping him before he can get to the sidewalk.
He lets out a shocked gasp, and turns to look back at me.
“I love you,” I say, meaning it. “I love you and not just for today.”
“I love you too,” he says and pulls me into his arms. “More than you know.”
We stand there for an awkward length of time in each other’s arms before he finally says, “But I know that you love them too.”
“How can I know if I love you most if you keep leaving?”
The question surprises him. I see his expression turn serious and he nods.
“But you still won’t be able to trust me.”
“I...”
I start to say something but my phone rings. Victor is calling me. I look down at the screen and when I look back up, Lucien is gone.
Vanished.
Disappeared.
It’s just as well. I don’t have the answers yet. I won’t until I finish what I started.
And so, I answer the call and head back inside.
Part 4
I hope you liked the third chapter of my steamy fic. As I’ve said before this is very out of my comfort zone! If you liked this, please comment, share, and like! I love seeing that :)
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Book Review #2: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas
This post is a long time coming. Let me give you a little run down of what's happening in this book review. I want to start by saying why I started reading this series, and what happened to me when I did. It wasn't pretty. And then I want to talk about my general overview of the series as a whole, and I want to end by doing a review of each individual book. There's a lot going on here.
As a senior in AP Literature, come the beginning of May, you don't want to look at a text written in Victorian English for at least thirty years. I think my teacher figured this out pretty quickly, because for our final project, she assigned us a simple task: "Pick any book that's not 'Hop on Pop' and come up with why you chose to read it, and something that stuck with you, whether it be a theme, character, symbol etc." Now, personally as someone who loves fun reading, this project was a dream. I had books on books on books that I had been wanting to read, that had just been waiting for me to tear through their covers and delve into all of their glory. But unfortunately, there are only twenty four hours a day, eight of which devoted to school, six devoted to work, three to homework, at least two for sustaining life and whatever is leftover for sleeping, there was no time for fun reading in my life. UNTIL NOW. So I sat on the edge of my bed, stared at my shelves and waited for something to call to me.
And then I looked at it. Nestled in my second to last shelf right next to Game of Thrones just waiting, perfect and pristine. Now I had purchased this book because I had suggested that my local Young Adult Literary Guild read it during the month of February, but if you see above you'll understand why I never read it. So I decided. The rest of my class could read profound works of literary merit. I would torture myself no more. This was the beginning of my liberation as a reader.
Let me first just say, that I loved this series. I started reading, and I thought to myself "Alas, this is another one of those series that you fall in love with so hard that it hurts to keep reading because you know has to end." As I read, I became...obsessed...unhealthily obsessed. Sarah J. Maas did something to me. I took this book with me everywhere, and when I finished the first one I was WORSE with the second. I brought the book to my sister's college graduation for Christ's sake. I was a starved, ravenous reader who could not be satiated no matter who many chapters she read each day. I stayed up until 3 am for days in a row reading by phone flashlight because I simply could not go to sleep
without knowing what was going to happen. Long story short, some kind of spirit took over me and left me obsessed with this series.
All in all, I think this series was spectacular. A smash hit in every right. Maas had such a unique and interesting concept, and really brought it to life. Written with such incredible detail, and intricate world building, this series took my breath away. My general rule of thumb is that any book with a map in the front, has to be good. My rule still stands. And for once in my life, I actually USED the map spread across those two pages at the beginning of each book. I looked and saw how far Feyre traveled between Courts. Not only did the first two books take classics stories and twist them slightly, but they were also in the world of Fae, with still another over-arching conflict spread throughout the series to create a truly epic tale.
A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES: *Warning: this review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk*Let's set the mood with a little summary shall we...So one cold winters night, Feyre Archeron is hunting to save her starving, destitute family, and kills a wolf in the process. One problem: this wolf is actually a really good friend of Fae Lord, Tamlin who comes a-stormin' into her house saying that since she took his soldier's life, he's come to take hers, but instead of killing her, offers to let her live at his estate in Fae land, known as Prythian. Overtime, Feyre makes friends with the Fae she lives with, and falls in love with Tamlin, the handsome High Lord of the Spring Court. Though she falls in love with him, Tamlin's land is plagued by a spreading darkness due to him being cursed by an evil fae, Amarantha. But Feyre decides she is not going to sit by and let her loved ones be abused and oppressed and decides that she will challenge Amarantha herself, a mere mortal, even sacrificing her soul to save her beloved and his people.
What originally drew me to this series was I was told that it was a twisted telling of Beauty and the Beast, and it was. But I've read a lot of twisted tellings of fairytales, and I have never loved one as much as this series. The A Court of Thorns and Roses Trilogy was so unique in its telling. The allusions to Beauty and the Beast were so subtle, but they stood out because they were different. The beauty wasn't a bookworm this time, hell she couldn't even read. Instead painting was her passion (and as someone who has zero artistic talent, Maas descriptions of Feyre's ideas for paintings were exquisite). Yes, Tamlin could physically shift into a beast, but also his personality was beastly, and instead of being hidden away in a crumbling tower, this beast was forced to live out his life behind a cursed mask. Maas's use of Beauty and the Beast as the basis for the story made it a hit with BATB fans, but her unique and original spin on the tale are what makes this book truly spectacular.
I hated Nesta (in this book). She was an actual demon. To treat Feyre so terribly, to hate her so intensely, when Feyre is literally keeping her and the rest of their family alive is mind boggling, but then it may have been another of Maas's sneaky traps. By hating Nesta in the beginning (like Feyre intensely disliked her sister, but still fought to keep her alive) I would grow to truly appreciate her in later books.
I said it before, but I really want to emphasize how much care Maas took in building this world. She created a new universe with a history, laws, politics, a new language, an entire culture. I really and truly felt like I stepped through the pages into an entirely different world. The holidays that they celebrated were some of my favorite parts of this book. Though, when I was told what Calanmai was, I was little thrown but I recovered. That holiday stuck with me, despite its odd origins, because it was the first time she met Rhys. But really Summer Solstice was my favorite. At that time, she and I still loved Tamlin and Feyre drunk on faerie wine and smoldering Tamlin was highly enjoyable right down to them watching the sunrise on a hill in the valley together. And don't even get me started on that lake of starlight.
Another thing about this series, but also this book in particular, is that Maas throws all of the stereotypical Fae tropes to the wind and writes her own unique tale set in the world of Fae. For instance Tam and Lucien outright tease Feyre when she says that they can't lie to her, because that myth simply isn't true. Or the classic, the idea iron burns faeries isn't true, its really ash wood that is deadly. Maas finds way to be original in faerie fiction, and creates her own myths and legends from the start.
And though I loved Tamlin for much of the book, there were still parts of him that I didn't like. For example, he was pretty cowardly. When he realized that he was pretty much screwed and that Amarantha was coming for him, instead of rallying forces (like another High Lord we know) he sends her away and lets his estate get ransacked and himself kidnapped. Even as Feyre is getting tortured by Amarantha, Tamlin doesn't really do anything to help her but just kind of watches as it happens. At times Tamlin really could not control his anger, which really bud you can't whip out your claws every time something doesn't go your way. I really hated that when Tamlin and Feyre had a minute alone Under the Mountain, that Tam's only concern is having sex with Feyre not, I don't know, helping her escape? Even though Rhys was the "enemy" at this point he still had his redeeming moments Under the Mountain.
Why is sex slavery such a big thing? Honestly, as far as YA book go, sex slavery is pretty rare. But Maas proves she doesn't write a typical YA fic, because she tries to take not one but two sex slaves in a single book. First we have good old, Rhysand who actually agrees, and then we have Tam who refuses and opts to be cursed for fifty years instead. Amarantha, get it together.
But one thing that really killed me was Feyre's guilt at Tamlin being taken away because she didn't break the curse in time. I could understand feeling bad, but Feyre really beats herself up for not freeing him and his people because she didn't say "I love you" fast enough. First of all, that phrase should never be said just to be said. If Feyre wasn't ready to say it, then she shouldn't have said it. Secondly NO ONE told her about the curse. How was she supposed to know that they were all waiting on her to free them. Feyre darling, it's not your fault I promise.
I fell for it. I fell hopelessly into every trap Maas set up for me. Well played Maas, well played. Throughout this book I shipped Tamlin and Feyre with a vengeance, and hated Rhys with a...fury (get it?). Which is EXACTLY what she wanted to happen. As you progress through the series, you'll understand why and you'll feel just as silly as I did. But I think that in falling for every trap she laid out for me, I went through the story with Feyre, thinking along the same vein as her. She didn't see that Tamlin may not have been such a good guy, and neither did I, but we eventually learned together.
All in all, this book was an impressive introduction to an amazing series! This was the first Sarah J. Maas book I had ever ready and honestly I can't wait to dive into the Throne of Glass series! Overall this book was wonderfully written and a really good, mature YA read.
Overall, I rate this book 📚📚📚📚 out of 5! What did you think of A Court of Thorns and Roses? Let me know in the comments!
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-
Kayla
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