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autumnshighlady · 2 months

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All I Gave You Is Gone (ACOTAR x The Silmarillion AU) - Chapter 1

RHYSAND'S SISTER X MAEDHROS

summary: The story begins with High Lord Rhysand’s sister, Ravenna, moments before her death. Before the sword is swung across her neck, she pleads to the Mother to rescue her, to intervene and get her out. Ravenna’s prayers are answered, and she wakes up in a strange land across the stars, far away from her home – Arda.

warnings: graphic violence

word count: 3.6k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this AU is so niche that most people probably don't know what the Silmarillion is - fear not! I will be writing it in a way that you won't need to know anything about lotr or the silm to understand it, as everything will be explained. I'm super excited for this series and I hope you guys grow to enjoy it. Any support is appreciated! Huge shoutout to the Anon that inspired this!

Screams rang through the shrieking wind, rattling Ravenna’s eardrums as a coppery tang filled her mouth. It was almost impossible to see anything amidst the smoke and rain, not that she wanted to be cursed with witnessing the horrifying scene. No, part of Ravenna was glad for the masking of the carnage.

The scent of blood choked her senses, closing up her throat and making her eyes burn. Her head throbbed from the impact of its collision on the nearby rock, stomach stinging in pain from the arrow laced with faebane that was lodged in her flesh. Through blurry vision, Ravenna lifted her head, groaning as every ounce of her body protested. Up above, the few fully trained Illyrian soldiers that were stationed at the war camp were falling from the sky, their lifeless bodies brutalised upon meeting the rocky ground. Hybern soldiers swarmed them like ants, their laughter echoing above the sounds of slaughter.

Tears pricked at Ravenna’s eyes as she inhaled deeply, immobilised by her wounds and the faebane arrow in her stomach that stifled her magic. She hadn’t even wanted to come here today to the Illyrian war camp with her mother, Nienna. They had fought over it – Ravenna had even offered to go to the Hewn City with her brother, Rhysand, then accompany her mother to Illyria. She hated it there. Everything from the leering males and the icy chill, to the sight of downtrodden females with their heads low and their wings clipped. Despite being half-Illyrian, Ravenna never felt any desire to spend time there.

Her black hair stuck to her face, clinging to her skin as the rain poured down. She lifted her wings, trying to flap them enough to get her body off the ground, but it was no use. They were dead weight on her back, too exhausted from the effects of the faebane to help her. Panic began to settle in as Ravenna realised she could not make her wings disappear with the poison in her veins. Her wings were a target now, a weak spot. Unable to defend herself, she was now a sitting duck.

As she laid there half-conscious, the screams eventually stopped, her blood turning to ice at the eerie silence from Illyrians in the war camp. Ravenna let out a sob. As Hybern soldier’s footsteps echoed on the hard ground, growing closer to where she was laying beside the rocks, she knew she was going to die.

“Hey! There’s one over here!” A gruff male voice called, followed by the sound of cheering.

No. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real.

Pathetically, Ravenna tried to drag herself away, fingernails breaking and scraping against the hard rock, efforts in vain. Panic rose in her chest as the sound of the soldier’s leering grew closer, closing in on her like a pack of wolves.

Thanks to the arrow, she had no magic to defend herself. Her asshole father, Ronan, the High Lord of the Night Court, had never even let her train to defend herself. She knew a couple moves from her sparring with Cassian and Azriel, but they were useless in this situation. Ravenna could hear Azriel’s voice in her head, pleading for her to get up and take a stand. But she couldn’t. Every muscle in her body was lifeless, her head spinning and aching with pain.

“Pretty little princess, all on her own...” One of the soldiers sneered, twirling his sword in his hands as he came to stand above her. She could practically smell his rotten breath amidst the blood covering his body that was not his own.

Ravenna tried to lift her head, but a dirty boot quickly connected with it with such force her neck snapped backwards, body jolting painfully. Fresh blood began to pour from the gaping wound on her forehead, and she cursed under her breath. Snide laughter sounded from above her, echoing in all directions as the world spun. “Nobody can help you now, princess.” One of the other soldiers said. “Not your half-breed brother, not your spy boyfriend. Certainly not your mommy.”

Ignoring the screaming pain, Ravenna opened her violet eyes and looked upwards at the soldier. Her gaze met his blood-stained face, then travelled down to his hands, eyes settling on what was grasped within them.

In his left hand was a familiar set of wings, tarnished with mud and dirt. Blood pooled onto the ground beneath them like a river. Bile rose in Ravenna’s throat as her gaze landed on his right hand.

And she screamed, raw and painfully.

In the soldier’s right hand was a severed head with long, dark locks identical to her own. Purple eyes were wide, face twisted in a frozen picture of agony, a female mid-scream. Bruises and scrapes were littered across the face, but it was unmistakable nonetheless.

It was Nienna. Her mother. The beautiful seamstress who had held Ravenna in her arms for countless nights, who taught her everything she knew. The female who kept her chin high, even as males sneered at her for her lowborn status. Dead. Dead before Ravenna’s very eyes.

Screams continued to rip through Ravenna, cursing the Hybern soldiers with promises of slow and agonising death. She didn’t care that she, too, was about to meet the same fate as her mother. As soldiers grabbed her arms and hauled her upright to her knees, she thrashed and fought like a wildcat. More hands grabbed her, steadying her slightly as she spat at them, tears streaming down her face.

“Hold her steady!” One of the soldiers snapped before bending down to sneer in her face. “It’s your turn, half-breed bitch. But first we gotta take care of those wings. Can’t have you flying away now, can we?”

“If you cut off my wings, I will flay you.” She spat in his face, screeching as one of the soldiers reached down and ripped the arrow out of her stomach, shredding the flesh as blood began pouring out of her faster.

The soldier snickered, his dark eyes brimming with hate as his twisted face stood mere inches from her own. “We won’t do that quite yet, that takes away half the fun. Your bitch mother bled to death when we ripped her wings from her body, so we didn’t get to enjoy her. We won’t make that same mistake with you.”

Ravenna howled furiously, sinking her canines into the nearby arm of a soldier as hard as she could. A whip cracked across her back in response, cleaving flesh from bone in one stroke as it shredded the material of her black dress. She bit down harder on the arm as pain blinded her, the blood of the soldier making her gag and eventually release him. At least her scream had been muffled.

Before she could curse them out again, she felt it. The presence of a cold, small blade against her wing. Right in the very spot she had seen scars on every female in the Illyrian camps.

No. No no no no.

She hadn’t even realised she was screaming the words out loud, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks as she begged and pleaded pathetically. Flying was her favourite thing to do. She would spend hours soaring through the skies, feeling the wind on her wings as she shot through the air like a shooting star. Sometimes she had flown hand in hand with Azriel above Velaris before their relationship had soured in the last few months, admiring the dazzling view of the city below. Flying was her peace.

Ravenna had accepted that she would die at the hands of the soldiers. But to die with her wings clipped would break something inside of her.

“Rhys!” She began screaming out her brother’s name mindlessly, despite the fact he was miles away and likely clueless as to what was going on in the war camp. “Rhys! Rhys!” She screamed over and over, praying that somehow he would show up out of nowhere and save her.

Her pleading only spurred the soldiers on more, and then that blade made an incision in the wing’s tendon near her back, the one that her wings relied on to carry her body. She barely even felt the physical pain from the slice as she screamed furiously, not just for herself, but for every female who had gone through this.

For decades, she had argued with her father over the practice of wing clipping. Gone head to head with the High Lord over it. Rhys would often have to step in, talking his father down from clipping his daughter’s own wings as punishment for slaughtering every male she could find who kept the practice going. Ravenna never cared how angry Ronan got with her over it, for she had no shame in taking it upon herself to try and end wing clipping. No matter how much he threatened her, yelled at her, she didn’t care. For she knew that she was untouchable – the people of Velaris loved her too much for the High Lord to get away with locking up or punishing his own daughter.

And now here she was, bleeding from that one tendon in her wings, rendered unable to fly for the rest of her life.

The soldiers whopped and cheered, spurred on by her tears as Ravenna cried angrily. Her body felt numb – a blessing as the Hybern soldiers began to brutalise her body with their fists, whips, and blades. Her skin was sliced and bruised and spat on, but she barely felt it. All she could feel was the hole inside her chest at the sight of her mother’s wings and head, now discarded on the cold, wet ground like trash.

Rain mixed with blood, blood mixed with tears, mud and grime becoming her second skin as Ravenna was pummelled into the ground. A barbed whip lashed at her skin, the soldiers having ripped open parts of her dress to expose her soft flesh like meat about to be butchered. The whirling black Illyrian tattoos that marked her body were now hidden behind red blood. They had begun at her left thigh and coming up across her hips and ribs, swirling up to the right side of her body across her back and collarbones then travelling down her arm. Now, they were marred, a ruined art piece at the hands of Hybern.

Please. Ravenna begged the Mother silently, teary gaze lifting up to the darkening sky where a few stars peeked out behind the rain clouds. Please help me. Get me away from here. Please, I will do anything. Just get me out of here.

She could have sword one of the stars brightened in response. Throughout lash after lash, she kept praying silently. Grimy hands groped at her flesh, digging into the fresh wounds and twisting her like a ragdoll. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold blade of a sword line up against the back of her neck, ready to swing down on it and cleave her head from her shoulders.

And then everything went bright, instead of the darkness that Ravenna had expected. White hot fire overtook her body, and then it all faded away.

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

The first thing Ravenna felt was the wind on her skin. It was gentler than the harsh wind of Illyria, but still strong. It soothed her body, which felt lifeless. The rocks she was laying on felt different than before, and she realised it was dirt beneath her, not stone. Her throat was dry, mouth caked with blood as she inhaled a deep breath. The air was fresh, not stifled with the scent of the war camp’s death. It filled her lungs blissfully, and it took all her strength to crack open her eyes.

She was met by sunlight, blinding her momentarily before her eyes finally adjusted. From her position on the ground, she could make out soft, windswept grass on either side of a dirt road. She was in a valley, a mountain pass judging by the steep hills nearby and the narrow windingness of the path ahead.

Ravenna’s mind was still swirling as she fought to figure out where she was. The landscape was unlike anything she had seen before in the Night Court. There was something different here, something that unsettled her bones. It did not feel like Prythian, somehow.

Before she could go through what she knew of the landscape of the various other courts, voices sounded in the distance, along with hoofsteps. Ravenna stiffened, pushing herself up into a sitting position as the sound grew closer. But it did not sound like the rough, sneering voices of Hyberm. No, these voices were different. They were strong, but songlike, lilting up and down in tones unfamiliar to Ravenna. From the winding path emerged a small group of males on horseback. They donned silver armour, long hair flowing in the wind and revealing pointed ears. Ravenna’s brow furrowed. She had not seen fae like this before, but something in her gut told her they were different. Sure, they donned the same ethereal grace to them matched with pointed ears, but there was an unsettling difference between them and the fae males Ravenna had previously encountered. They did not have a predatory feel to them like most fae males, but seemed colder. Calculating.

And nonetheless, terrifying.

A male with long blonde hair shouted something and charged his horse forward, icy blue eyes fixated on Ravenna as his group followed. She could barely move her aching body, merely slumping in defeat as the horses surrounded her in a perfect circle, a various assortment of blades and arrows pointed at her. On instinct, Ravenna lifted her wings to shoot herself up into the sky away from the males, but with the incision made she could barely lift them off the ground.

Once again, she was defenceless.

A male with black hair and cold, grey eyes barked something at her in that unfamiliar language. Squinting against the bright sun, Ravenna looked up to meet his stare. He and the blonde male were the only ones without helms and armour – the leaders, she presumed. An eight-pointed star marked the centre of their embroidered white tunics, and red capes flowed behind them in the wind.

When she didn’t answer, the black-haired male repeated his question, angrier this time.

“I’m sorry…” She muttered, barely getting the words out due to her dry throat. “I don’t understand…”

This time, it was the blonde male who spoke up. “You speak the common tongue?” He asked, his voice less harsh but still with a lethal edge to it. She nodded.

“Who are you and why are you in the pass of Aglon?” He continued, pressing his blade against her throat. She swallowed – never before had she seen such a beautiful blade, marked with swirling inscriptions and metalwork that would impress the most prestigious blacksmith in the Night Court.

Evenly, she met his blue eyes, which scanned her up and down. Distaste and surprise came across his beautiful features as he seemingly focused on the blood covering her body rather than her wings. Finally, Ravenna realised her dress had all but been torn to shreds, revealing her wounded skin in places she would have preferred to cover up. She curled herself into a ball, hands desperately trying to cover the parts of herself that had been revealed by the rips in her dress.

But the males did not leer like she had anticipated. Even the dark-haired one who had snapped at her in that foreign language did not seem affected by her skin on display. He was more focused on her wings, which were covered in Illyria’s mud and dirt. Ravenna still trembled with fear in their presence, but at least they seemed better than Hybern thus far.

“The pass of… what?” She asked, even more confused. She had never heard of such a place before. Certainly not in Prythian. Where the hell was she and what happened?

“She’s a spy of the Dark Lord, brother.” The dark-haired male said, a hateful look in his eyes as he drew his bow. “Let us kill her and be done with it.”

“Put that away, Curufin.” The blonde one scolded with authority. “We are in Maitimo’s lands. He will decide what to do with her. Spy or not, she comes with us. He will have our heads if we kill her without his permission.”

Curufin rolled his grey eyes and retracted his bow. “As you wish, Tyelkormo.”

Ravenna’s mind reeled and the sound of the names being given, especially the last one. They were unlike anything she had heard before, leaving her even more confused. Was she dead? Was this some sort of strange afterlife? She shivered – by the way the wind bit at her cold skin, she knew she was very much alive.

The blond one whose name Ravenna’s brain hadn’t wrapped around took note of her shiver, huffing loudly before muttering something in another tongue to one of his guards. He swung a leg off of his grey horse and slid down onto the ground, walking over to where Ravenna sat in the dirt. Part of her instincts told her to run, to back away from this ethereal, too-perfect looking male. But another part of her was lured in by his beauty, as if some strange spell surrounded him.

She baulked as he came to stand over her, blue eyes mercilessly staring her down as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt. The male was enormous, almost a foot taller than Cassian was. Long, silver-blonde hair flowed over his shoulders, two small braids behind each ear trailing down beside his neck. Jewellery adorned his pointed ears, which were similar in shape to her own. Based on his elaborate-looking attire this male was of a decent status wherever they were.

The blonde male unclasped his cloak, tossing the fabric towards Ravenna. She caught it, the material soft as clouds in her hands as she wrapped it around herself, grateful for the warmth.

But there was no warmth in the male’s eyes as he barked at her, “Get up.”

Keeping the cloak wrapped around her blood-soaked body, Ravenna pushed herself up. But her legs buckled, sending her tumbling painfully back to the ground. She hissed in pain, pressing her hand into her stomach where the wound from the arrow was. Her fae healing had kicked in enough that it began to slowly heal, but not nearly fast enough.

“Are you incapable of following orders and standing up?” He hissed angrily.

Despite her pain and exhaustion, fire lit in Ravenna’s veins at his attitude. “I’m not exactly in a position to do so without struggle.” She snapped, unfolding the cloak just enough to reveal the large, unmistakable arrow wound in her stomach.

His blue eyes followed, assessing the wound with impatience. “You’ll live.”

“Unfortunate for you.” She shot back, temper heightened by the ache in her wings.

The male scoffed. “Do you even know who I am?”

“No.”

“I am Lord Celegorm, Prince of the Noldor and third son of Fëanor.” He stuck his chin arrogantly in the air.

Ravenna took a deep breath to steady herself, slouching and rolling her eyes. “I must have hit my head pretty hard. I have no fucking clue what any of that means.”

Surprise crossed Celegorm’s face, and he exchanged an uneasy look with his brother. Curufin shrugged, muttering something in that strange tongue before turning his grey eyes back towards Ravenna. “And who exactly are you, may I ask?” He said dryly.

“Ravenna,” She said. “Princess of the Night Court. Daughter of Ronan, the High Lord.” She introduced herself in a similar manner to Celegorm, snorting at the confusion that continued to grow on his face.

“What are you talking about?” He snapped. “There is no such a court here, or a Lord Ronan.”

Ravenna shrugged. “Now you know how I feel, I guess. Believe me, I don’t know where the hell I am or how I got here. I am just as confused as you. I mean you no harm, I swear by the Mother.”

“That will be for Maitimo to judge.” Was all Celegorm said before reaching down for Ravenna’s trembling, weak body. She did not have time to protest or process what was happening as he reached underneath her wings and legs, lifting her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. The world swayed as she was picked up. Thankfully, he did so in such a manner she remained covered with the cloak.

Still, she did not like being manhandled. “Put me down!” Ravenna hissed furiously, writhing as best she could in his grip. But it was no use – between her weakness, lack of powers, and Celegorm’s sheer size and strength, it was pointless.

Celegorm lifted her onto his horse and set her on the front end of the saddle before climbing up behind her. She winced in pain as his large frame brushed against the incision on her wings. “Watch the wings.” She snapped.

“We are taking you to our eldest brother.” Celegorm said, ignoring her protest but leaning back ever so slightly and relieving the contact on her wings. “He can decide what to do with you. It is half a day’s journey from here, so I suggest you rest while you still can.”

All Ravenna could do was sigh and hold onto the horse’s mane as the prince sent the group forward up the winding mountain pass. She had come no closer to figuring out where she was, or who these strange fae-looking people were.

And she had half a day to do her best to figure it out.

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snelbz · 1 year

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The Holiday {2}

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @theladyofdeath.

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers

Summary: Nesta has just been dumped. Aelin hates her job. Both women need an escape from reality and with Christmas quickly approaching, it's the perfect time for a getaway. After discovering a trend where people can swap houses for a non-traditional vacation experience, these two women decide to spend the holidays in each other's homes. With their houses comes a series of unique experiences and a couple of handsome suitors. It's time to see just how much a change of scenery and two weeks of Christmas solitude and romance can change a person.

A/N: It's December, which means the holiday season has officially begun! This one has been a blast to write, we never write such fluffy stuff. We hope y'all are enjoying it, too!

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

The hour-long Uber ride was not what Aelin was expecting when she got off the plane at nearly ten o’clock at night, but it was sure as hell what she got. Her driver, a blessedly quiet man named Ilias, asked her what kind of music she liked, found a Pandora station dedicated to it, and they were off. After traveling all day, she knew there was no reason to be as exhausted as she was, but keeping her eyes open was proving to be a challenge as he left Orynth proper and drove up into the mountains.

Thankfully, just as she thought she would really doze off, the car came to a stop. A blast of cold hit her as he got out and popped open the back hatch.

It was frigid in Orynth, a different kind of cold than she was used to in Velaris.

After unloading her suitcase and ensuring she had both her purse and backpack, Ilias bade her farewell, backed out of the drive and headed down the long, single-lane road that curved along the mountain. They’d passed another cabin coming up and she knew more were likely farther up, but all she could focus on was the one before her.

Pulling her phone out of her back pocket, she checked the screenshot of the information Nesta had sent her. She’d warned there could be spotty cell service the farther into the mountains you went and she hadn’t been wrong. Thanks to the wifi password she’d already memorized, she knew she wouldn’t be without TikTok or Facebook for long.

After locating the key under a bucket in the front porch, Aelin unlocked the door and walked in.

Only to immediately shiver.

“By the Wyrd, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” Aelin murmured, snagging her bags from the porch and pulling them in. She closed the door, walking deeper into the cottage.

“Cozy mountain cottage, my ass,” she muttered, walking around the living room, looking for the small pad on the wall to control the central heating.

After searching for nearly two minutes, she still hadn’t found it.

The cottage wasn’t big by any means. It was certainly cute and meant to be homey, if only there was warmth of some kind. She had no idea how this woman hadn’t turned into a popsicle or died of hypothermia.

There was a main room, which held a tv, a little sitting bench by a massive window, and walls lined with bookshelves. Reading — it was an apparent hobby that Aelin shared with Nesta. She made a mental note to check out the shelves of books as soon as she wasn’t freezing her ass off.

Luckily, all the lamps she tried worked beautifully, lighting up the small space. There was a short hallway off of the kitchen where the bedroom and bathroom were. After tossing her bags on the neatly made bed full of blankets and pillows, Aelin made her way back into the living room. The space was far too cold for the heat to only have been turned off when Nesta left, which meant that there was no heat in this place at all.

Who the hell survived in the mountains with no central heat?

Aelin felt very strongly that such a fact should have been on the vacation listing.

With a frustrated, exhausted sigh, Aelin turned to face the fireplace. There were no logs in the fireplace which meant that she’d have to make her way outside in the snowy darkness to try and find some. Being almost midnight, it was the last thing she wanted to do.

She wanted to sleep.

Maybe have a snack.

She wanted warmth.

Gods, she was freezing.

After turning on the flashlight on her phone, Aelin threw open the front door.

And screamed.

A giant figure stood at the threshold, his fist raised to knock. He didn’t look startled in the slightest as Aelin cursed, her heart racing. Instead, he simply raised a brow, his green eyes scanning Aelin’s face. He was covered in layers, all of them black or dark green. Snow dusted the coat on his shoulders and his knit beanie, which stopped just above his thick brows.

“What the hell?” Aelin yelled, one hand bracing the door to keep herself steady. “It’s the middle of the night! Who the hell are you?”

Once again, he was not phased by Aelin’s outburst. Instead he tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “I brought wood.”

Aelin blinked as she scoffed. “You brought wood? At midnight? You brought wood at midnight? Is that when this woman usually gets her wood? At midnight?”

The euphemism wasn’t lost on Aelin but she didn’t say anything about it. Thankfully, neither did he.

The fist he would have used to knock with slowly fell back to his side. He shoved those hands into his pockets. “No, usually I’m here promptly at ten every couple of days, which is when I would have been here tomorrow…which is also when I thought you’d be getting here, not today. I was on my way home when I saw the lights on and knew I’d gotten the day wrong. Thought you might be cold.”

She was. Gods, she was. “I’m fine.”

She swore she saw his lips quirk as he looked over her shoulder at the dull, empty fireplace. “I’m guessing Nesta didn’t mention that you’d have to heat the place yourself.”

“Look,” Aelin began, taking a deep breath as her fingers tightened on the door. “I’m tired. I’m grumpy. A little hangry, even. All I want to do is climb into bed, close my eyes, and hopefully wake up in the morning to not regret this decision I’ve made. So, if you would, get the hell off my property so I can make that happen.”

“It’s not your property, but I admire your conviction,” he said, and Aelin hated how he wasn’t even the slightest bit phased by her. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed, unpack your shit, and I’ll start a fire for you?”

Aelin nearly gaped. “You want me to let you, a man that could be a murderer for all I know, in here? Who shows up at midnight—”

“I’m trying to be helpful,” he interrupted, clearly getting frustrated. “If you prefer to chop your own wood and light your own flame, that’s fine. I have places to be.” He turned his back to her and slowly descended the stairs, back to the snow covered path to his truck. “Nesta said she left a note letting you know how to reach me when you need wood. Call, I guess, if you don’t want to freeze to death. I’d hurry. It’s only getting colder tonight.”

By the time Aelin remembered how to speak, he was climbing into the cab of his truck, which was still running, and gunning the engine. Up the mountain he went and Aelin grumbled something about unpacking her shit and went to retrieve the bundle of wood he’d set down at the top of the staircase.

Closing the door, and locking it for emphasis, Aelin found the instructions Nesta had left for her, including a phone number for Rowan, who she could only assume was her new friend. She hastily lit the fireplace and wood burning stove in the back bedroom, and before she knew it, the cottage was nearly as cozy as it’d been in the listing.

She connected to the wifi and sent a text to Lysandra, letting her know she’d safely made it and settled in.

And then she checked her email.

There were nearly thirty emails and Aelin was almost positive twenty-five of them would be from Arrobyn. She had ignored his texts throughout the day, going so far as to send him to voicemail as she was boarding her flight to Orynth, something she’d never done. None of them were letting her know she’d been fired, so whatever Nox had done had appeased their boss, though he was already making demands for her to be at the office bright and early the day she was back in town.

With a groan, she turned her phone off and reminded herself she was here for a break. From Arrobyn, from life in Velaris, from everything.

There was a bottle of wine on the counter, near her note with Rowan’s phone number, with another note tied around the neck. It had another number on it, in the same feminine scrawl.

Give me a call if you need anything at all! Hope we both get the escapes we need.

Nesta

Although Rowan had pissed her off, Nesta seemed welcoming…even if Aelin had a slightly warmer idea of what welcoming meant. Nonetheless, Aelin hoped they both got their escapes, too. In the morning, she would make sure that she got her relaxing vacation. She wouldn’t accept any other fate.

Just after one, Aelin poured herself a small glass of wine and snuggled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. She had only drunk half of it before she fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

<.>.<.>.<.>

Since arriving the night before, Nesta was scared to touch anything.

Aelin’s townhouse was immaculate. Everything was sleek and modern, and fell into the white, gray, calming blue color scheme. From the second she had opened the door, she felt like she had walked into a magazine. Only one thing looked out of place, and that was the Christmas tree. Sitting in the living room, it was tall and green and covered in ornaments. It was a nice, cheery sight. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d help put up a Christmas tree. It hadn’t been since her childhood, certainly.

Although their tastes were different, Aelin did have a good collection of books in her bedroom. Nesta spotted some romances and thought she’d spend a couple days diving into the pages.

Not today, though.

Today she would explore the city.

She’d arrived in Velaris around eight the night before. The drive to the townhouse was less than twenty minutes and Nesta instantly made herself comfortable. The fridge had been recently stocked and the liquor cabinet was full. Judging from that and the look of her townhouse, Nesta had no idea what Aelin did for work but she decided that the woman did fairly well. There was no way Nesta would be able to afford anything close to this on her author’s salary. Although her books had begun to do well in the last few years, money went fast.

Having been asleep by ten, Nesta was wide awake before eight, surprising herself by how well she was adjusting to the time change. Maybe the jet lag would hit her later. She needed to take advantage of her time before that happened.

It was snowing outside but wasn’t too cold. The second the flakes hit the sidewalk, they’d melt. It was a nice change from trudging through feet of snow like she did back home. Considering the heart of the city wasn’t far, Nesta decided she would walk. After putting on her boots and coat, she grabbed her purse off the bar in the kitchen and slung it across her body before locking Aelin’s door behind her and strutting toward the city.

Velaris was beautiful.

Not only the starlight, which Nesta had admired the night before in awe, but the city itself was stunning. The skyscrapers were massive, the people were cheery, and the shops were busy. Everything was decorated - every building, every bus stop, every park bench. The light poles had ribbons wrapped around them like presents and the statues were surrounded by string lights and holly. Nesta had never seen anything like it. With the city so big and so much to do, she was afraid even two weeks wouldn’t be time to see it all.

She didn’t want to waste a single second and before she knew it, it was lunch time and she’d stopped at a restaurant whose windows were open to the hustle and bustle of the streets outside, despite the temperature. Thanks to a roaring fire in the hearth, Nesta was cozy as could be as she sipped her tea and ate the most amazing BLT she’d ever had.

“Everything good over here?” Her server, Emerie, stopped by, a stack of plates in her hand.

“It’s all lovely,” Nesta replied, giving the dark haired woman a polite smile. It was more than she usually offered those around her, but this trip she’d decided to try and be nicer to people. Unless they deserved it, at least. Starting with her sweet waitress was easy. “Thank you so much.”

Emerie’s brows bunched together before she said, “I’m sorry, I’ve got to ask. Where are you from? I’ve been trying to figure out your accent, but I can’t.”

Nesta’s own eyebrows raised, not realizing she even had an accent, but she was a long way from home. “I’m from a small town just south of Spring, but I’ve lived in Orynth for years.”

“Orynth? In Terrasen?” Emerie’s eyes were wide. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard it’s beautiful. And cold.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh. “That it is.”

“What brings you to Velaris?” Emerie asked, a bus boy coming and taking the dirty dishes off her hands. “Are you visiting for the holidays or did you just move to town?”

Shaking her head, despite the fact that she’d been asked two questions, Nesta said, “Just needed a vacation from life. Thought the City of Starlight was the place to do just that.”

“Well, if you’re looking for suggestions to start this vacation of yours, I can give you a few places to check out,” she suggested, and the offer was too kind to decline. Five minutes later, Nesta had a long list on her phone of places to enjoy, starting with the Rainbow.

It was a strip of local artists in shops and vendor carts. Sculptures lined the streets and murals covered the brick walls. As soon as she started exploring the Rainbow of Velaris that afternoon, Nesta decided that Feyre would be in heaven there. In fact, she picked up a few pieces to bring home to her sister for Christmas. There was a painting, a landscape piece of something called Starfall that Nesta was mesmerized by, and a tiny clay sculpture of an ancient being with dark, incandescent wings that caught her attention. Feyre would love both.

She spent hours there, admiring the art, exploring the street. By the time the sun began to set, Nesta was exhausted, but feeling fulfilled. She also found a set of glass roses for Elain. Although Nesta would be missing Christmas with her sisters, she would come home with unforgettable presents.

Realizing she was starving and not wanting to test Aelin’s kitchen out just yet, Nesta checked the list that Emerie helped her create. There was a little bar and grill not far from Aelin’s that Emerie gave a glowing review. Apparently it had live music, which was always a plus. By the time she made it back to the townhouse, however, Nesta’s feet were killing her and she almost cursed herself for not wearing more practical shoes. The boots looked cute, but they’d been worth it. After dropping off her sister’s gifts, she decided they were cute enough to be worth it again.

A drink would help her forget about her aching feet, surely.

It only took her a few minutes to reach the Illyrian from the townhouse and when she arrived, she was pleasantly surprised to find it busy. It gave her a chance to watch people, to imagine the stories and lives the people around her led. There was a lone table open, thanks to the gloriously chaos of open seating and Nesta found herself sitting before a small stage.

The bartender came, a handsome man about her again, with eyes a color of violet she’d never encountered before, and promised to return with a Jack and Coke and the best thing the kitchen had to offer.

As she waited, she began to relax. She spotted a couple at the bar, happy in love, then another couple a few spots down that couldn’t seem to stop fighting. There were a few loners there, too, surely hoping to find love or at least love for a night. Nesta wondered what people thought about her, sitting at a table alone, but quickly realized that she did not care.

Especially not as her drink came.

She sipped her Jack and Coke, continuing to watch those around her. Fifteen minutes passed before her waiter returned with the biggest bacon cheeseburger she’d ever seen, with homemade chips, and she ordered another drink to go along with it.

As she took the first bite — the first glorious bite — a man came out on the stage with a guitar. In a matter of seconds, a hush fell over the people in the restaurant and a group of women ran back to their table, giving him their full attention.

Nesta rolled her eyes.

He was one of those.

He cleared his throat as he sat down in the stool, leaning forward to speak into the microphone. “What’s up? Y’all know the drill. You want a song, I’ll play it if I know it. And if I don’t, I’ll pretend I do.” The gaggle of girls laughed far more enthusiastically than they should have. “Relax, have a drink, and tip your bartenders, unless it’s that asshole.”

He pointed at the violet-eyed man who was, in fact, the one serving her and was rolling his eyes, and started strumming.

Nesta was surprised at just how mesmerizing his voice was. It was husky and sensual and matched his rugged good looks. He wore a dark gray henley, jeans, and boots, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. There was a day or two’s worth of stubble along his jawline and his hazel eyes were bright in the stage lights trained on him. Most of the songs he played were covers, though he’d tossed a few original songs in now and then. Original songs that weren’t too bad.

He had just finished a request from one of the fan girls sitting at the table next to her own when she realized he was…looking at her.

She wasn’t sure how to take it, wasn’t sure how to handle his piercing stare. He must’ve seen the hesitancy in her body, because he chuckled as he started singing once more.

Started singing directly to her.

She liked it and hated it at the same time. There was a thrill that shot through her along with the dread and panic that had settled in the pit of her stomach. A couple of the fan girls shot disgusted looks her way and Nesta couldn’t blame them. There she was, sloppily eating a burger by herself while getting serenaded by a guy they were obviously obsessed with.

He was handsome.

He also liked the attention and Nesta could tell. He was the type of man that thrives on a woman’s attention, the kind that used it to his advantage and ran with it.

She wondered which of these groupies he’d be taking home tonight. Nesta looked pointedly at him as she took the last bite of her burger and that stupid grin appeared again as the beautiful words streamed from his mouth.

She suddenly realized he was singing Your Body is a Wonderland and scoffed, pulling enough money out of her wallet to cover her tab and tip her server.

With a final look at the stage, finding his eyes still on her and a smirk still on his handsome face, Nesta turned and left.

She couldn’t shake the feeling his gaze was on her the whole way home.

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smolvenger · 1 year

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The Wildest Crossover Fic I ever thought of

Why do I suddenly like lightning get the most unhinged ideas for fics- like...

In the middle of writing the one-shot about just healing up post-battle Prince Hal, this morning I suddenly got an idea (thanks @holdmytesseract)

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas with Loki as Rhysand (who else who read that pictured him as Rhys? :)) ) , for those of y'all who like the A Court of Mist and Fury Series.

Yes, that's natural, and in most cases, I would make Reader Feyre-

BUT

Stella Ransome from The Essex Serpent as Feyre and Will Ransome as Tamlin.

Hear me out. Like...

Our girlie Stella is sick with TB and dying. She's at this point not yet married to Will. Loki appears by her sickbed and she's like "!!!!! What is this Norse God doing here???"

But he offers to heal her if she gives him a week to stay with him every month to stay with him in Asgard. And she accepts!

Now she's healed! Then she's about to marry Will. She's suppressing her heartbreak about Will cheating on her with Cora because she thinks she loves him and can overcome that and that his happiness matters more than her own. That she loves him that much. But she is unhappy.

She's walking down the aisle. When she pauses and silently says "Help me". She stops, unable to move to the altar.

Then suddenly, a voice "Hello, Stella, darling," and WHOOSH, there's Loki in the church!

Everyone is in shock wtf is a Norse god who looks like the groom doing in a Christian church?.

He takes Stella away to Asgard. She's astounded and gets to know the motley crew- Thor, Frigga, Valkyrie, Sif, etc. This Victorian-era Lady gets to learn about this other world and magic and is astounded! Loki helps her with her trauma about being cheated on and teaches her not to sacrifice her happiness for Will's. Stella shows Loki the love and care that is sometimes denied to him. She eventually falls for Loki and dumps Will in between their time there and becomes like a Princess(High Lady) of Asgard. They're fated mates or whatever???

I guess make Thanos the King of Hybern bad guy but maybe that's too much. I'm that unhinged

My mind below thinking of that:

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mystical-blaise · 1 year

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Me today

Can't stop, won't stop

All I wanna do in this fandom is theorize and create fun things, dammit!

#sjmaas #maasverse #hofas #hosab #hoeab #acosf #quinlar #acotar #all i wanna do is have some fun #besides researching for my next fic i'm deep into the crossover research

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chunkypossum · 4 months

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Come Hel or High Lord

Chapter 2 || Read on AO3

A little WIP Wednesday. Currently 15 chapters on Ao3 and counting…

“Before you say no-” “I’ve already said no.” Nesta stomped her foot and growled at him, her fists clenched at her sides. A flicker of silver fire lit her eyes and it took everything in him not to shudder. “Rhysand just talk to her. You haven’t spoken a word to her since you sent her up here and she is going mad with grief. She just tried to stab me with her gods damned sword!” Nesta threw her harm back and pointed toward the commotion making him flinch. His shoulders slumped slightly and he exhaled slowly. She was right, he hadn’t. A fact that filled him with guilt. He had let everyone else shoulder this burden while he hid away, dealing with his own demons. A growl followed by a frustrated scream and what sounded like a string of curses in another language came from inside the room and Rhys and Nesta both winced. “It doesn’t sound like she wants to do much talking.” “Rhysand .” Nesta hissed at him and he gave her a wink and sidestepped her open hand as it came whirling for his shoulder. He ducked down the hall before stopping at the door. Rhysand chanced a glance back at Nesta, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Cassian had his hands clasped at her shoulders and Azriel stood next to them wreathed in shadows, a careful blank stare on both their faces. He took a deep breath and picked a piece of lint off his shirt before tucking his hands in his pockets and sauntering over the threshold.

Azris Tag List: @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee

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lees-chaotic-brain-reblogs · 3 months

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Azriel Fic Recs

Note: I do sometimes link my reblogs bc there is literally nothing I hate more than clicking on a link only to arrive at the ghost blog page.

Blogs to just read through

@azsazz @azrielhours @daycourtofficial @assassinsblade @illyrian-dreamer

@utterlyazriel @imaginesmai @solbaby7 @fieldofdaisiies @writingcroissant

@pellucid-constellations @flickering-chandelier @shadowdaddies @solbaby7

@marvelsmylife

The Orange Peel Theory (fluff) Hug (fluff)

@bubbles-for-all-of-us

Buried Underneath (angst) Golden Hour (hurt/comfort, fluff)

@mrs-azriel

Unrequited (angst) A Pair of Spies (hurt/comfort)

@leoniestarlee

Illyrian Assassin (fluff, hurt/comfort) (series)

@florencemtrash

The Shadowsinger and the Inkbird (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort) (series) In a Years Time (angst, fluff) The Artificer (angst, fluff, hurt/comfort) (series)

@azrielsdove

Love and Loss (angst, hurt/comfort)

@readychilledwine

Haven (fluff) Losing Forever (angst, hurt/comfort) The Breakfast Club (fluff)

@serpentandlily

No Going Back (angst)

@violet-shadows

Low on Hope (hurt/comfort, angst) (series) Speaking of Forgiveness (angst, hurt/comfort) (series)

@writingsbychlo

When You Hold Me (fluff)

@lalacliffthorne

The Basic Rules of Friendship (fluff)

@bluetimeombre

And I Wouldn't Marry Me Either (angst)

@prythianpages

I've Been Waiting for You (fluff, hurt/comfort) Dandelions (fluff) (series) When I Kissed the Teacher (fluff)

@imaginesmai

The Orange Peel Theory (fluff)

@azrielbrainrot

I Laugh Like Me Again...She Laughs Like You (angst)

@itsjunear

Hidden Feelings (angst)

@stxrvel

The Cliff (angst) (series)

@stormhearty

Pushed to the Edge (angst, hurt/no comfort) (series)

@heartless-tate

Notice Me! (fluff)

@leafsandstarlight

Annual Visit (fluff) (series)

@shadowandlightt

Of Nightmares and Memories (series) (angst)

@azriels-shadowsinger

I Can't Sleep with You Still Mad at Me (hurt/comfort) Everything Reminds Me of You (angst, hurt/comfort) I Broke the Lock You Were Screaming (hurt/comfort)

@thisblogisaboutabook

Rainy Season (angst) Baby, Mine (angst/fluff)

@thehighladywrites

Banned From Intimacy (fluff, 18+)

@ervotica

My Hands are Searching (angst, hurt/comfort)

@grandlinedreams

Archeron Sister AU (angst, hurt/comfort) (series) Untitled (fluff)

@azrielwingspan

A 'Tea' Party (fluff)

@angelshadowsinger

Scarlet-Tipped Secrets; Peonies, for You (angst)

@parkerslatte

Centuries Coming (angst, hurt/comfort)

@moonlightazriel

Worlds Apart (tog x acotar crossover, hurt/comfort) (series) Nap (fluff)

@motherabove

All the Time in the World (angst)

@surielstea

Bright Smiles (fluff)

@itsswritten

Finally (fluff, pregnancy)

@lady-of-tearshed

Clingy Bat (fluff)

@utterlyotterlyx

Another Love (angst, fluff)

@sillymercury

Emergency...(fluff)

@mxtantrights

Jealousy (fluff)

dividers by @cafekitsune

#lee's brain food #azriel x reader #fic recs

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autumnshighlady · 2 months

Text

All I Gave You Is Gone (ACOTAR x The Silmarillion AU) - Chapter 2

RHYSAND'S SISTER X MAEDHROS

summary: we're back in Prythian with an Azriel pov as the aftermath of the attack is revealed

warnings: violence, angst

word count: 4k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: this is a short chapter, i was going to add a Ravenna pov but given the recent shitstorms in my life I'm just posting what I've had in my drafts. It's not my best but i hope you enjoy nonetheless

Azriel’s shadows were incessant, swirling up his arms and whispering in his ears. Ravenna, they echoed urgently, only for his scarred hand to shoo them away. Annoyance prickled through the shadowsinger as he tried to focus on what Cassian and Rhys were saying. The three of them were lounging in the spacious living room by the fireplace in Rhysand’s family residence in the Hewn City, exhausted after a day of dealing with learning the art of politics. They were on their third bottle of wine, but it did nothing to ease Azriel. For his shadows continued to whisper Ravenna’s name, no matter what he did. They said nothing else, no indicator of what they wanted him to do. Only her name, frantic and insistent.

He cursed under his breath as another shadow flicked his ear, urging him to listen. The shadows had always favoured Ravenna, insisting he go to her after every fight – something which had increased lately. Frustrated, the shadow slithered back down his arm, ducking back behind his hands.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, noticing Azriel’s distraction. “What do they want?” He asked lightly, taking another sip of rich red wine from his goblet.

Azriel sighed, rubbing his face with his scarred hands. “For me to go to Ravenna, I believe.”

“Did you two have another fight?” Cassian asked, kicking his feet up on the opposite end of the sofa he was laying on.

Azriel kept his tone as neutral as possible. “You could say that, yes.” He found it difficult to talk about his relationship with Ravenna when Rhysand was around. The last thing he wanted to do was put him in an awkward position where he’d have to choose between his sister and his friend. Keeping his life private was something Azriel prided himself on until recently. These last few weeks, it was getting harder and harder.

“What happened?” Rhys asked, concern lacing his voice.

For a moment, Azriel contemplated changing the subject. But his shadows incessantly whispered Ravenna’s name with increased volume. Maybe talking about her would shut them up a bit. “We fought about work for the fifth time this month,” He said, wings slumping slightly in his chair. “She thinks I’m not focused enough on her, and what I am focused on with work is on the wrong things. We argued about Illyria and the Hewn City again.”

“Cauldron above,” Cassian grumbled. “How many times have you had this exact argument?”

“Too many.” Azriel said bitterly, annoyance rising as the memories of yesterday’s argument came rushing back. “Every time I try to explain to her that the High fae are slow to change, the Illyrians even more so, she gets mad and just says we aren’t trying hard enough. That if she were in charge, shit would get done. Doesn’t matter how many times I explain that the Illyrians won’t accept change, she’s too stubborn.”

“Well, talking down to her certainly won’t help.” Rhys said evenly, sighing. “I told you that only makes her more angry.”

Azriel threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know what to do, Rhys. Nothing I say helps. The more your father makes her go to Illyria and the Hewn City, the angrier she gets that things are still the way they are.”

Rhys nodded in understanding, his violet eyes sympathetic. “She doesn’t understand that they have to remain that way in order for Velaris to be protected.”

More shadows curled wildly around Azriel, chanting Ravenna over and over again. He swore more loudly this time, shrugging them off angrily. Concern crossed Rhys’s face as he observed their franticness. “I’ve never seen them like this.” He said slowly.

“Neither have I.” Azriel responded, trying to squash the strange uneasiness he felt. His shadows, while having a mind of their own, typically never pushed him like this. And when they were insistent on something, they typically revealed more information than this. But all the shadows did was urgently whisper Ravenna’s name.

“Are you sure everything is ok with her?” Rhys asked.

The shadowsinger shrugged. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. She’s probably just angrier than usual because your father made her go to Illyria today with your mother. Pretty bad timing.”

“So are you two even together?” Cassian asked bluntly, heaving himself into an upright position to interrogate his friend. “The last few fights you’ve had, you said things were over. Then you fuck, make up, and get back together the next day. It’s like you’re caught in a fucking time loop. Are you really convinced she’s your mate if this is how things are?”

Azriel shot Cassian a death glare. “Watch it. The bond will snap, I know it. We just… we just need time to get over this rough patch first.”

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance, which made Azriel’s skin prickle with anger. Ravenna was his mate, he was sure of it. He loved her, and she loved him. All he could do was wait for the bond to snap into place, and all of this would be forgotten. Luckily, Cassain struck up a conversation about plans to visit the Summer Court in a few weeks, and the subject was changed much to Azriel’s relief.

When Ravenna got back from Illyria, he’d fix things. And all would return to normal.

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

By the time the sun set, Azriel felt his sanity slipping. The shadows were relentless, their repetition of Ravenna’s name only increasing as the day went by. What little patience he had left was thinning with every snap at the shadows to leave him be. No matter how many times he sent them away, they came back. He lay in his large bed, wings spread out but tense with that unexplained anxiety.

Every creak from the hallway went detected by Azriel, expecting to hear Ravenna’s soft footsteps heading towards his room, ready to talk things over. But they never came, the hollowness in his chest only growing.

The angry things Ravenna said in their fight haunted him, and his own hurtful words he threw back at her plagued his mind, too. It was their ugliest fight by far, and the fact she hadn’t come to him yet made him wonder if things were truly over.

“Care to explain to me why every time I ask you or my brother to talk to my father about wing-clipping, you run away like a frightened dog?” Ravenna had asked him, sitting on the end of his bed with her arms crossed.

Azriel had rolled his eyes, pulling his sweaty shirt over his head. “I’m not doing this right now.” He had grumbled. His temper was short, having tried to set the mood for a pleasure-filled evening with Ravenna, only for her to stop him and demand he first answer why he had changed the subject earlier when she began discussing her plans to try and get her father to ban wing-clipping in Illyria and help the females in the Hewn City.

Ravenna had only gotten angrier. “Ok, tomorrow then? Or are you going to find some excuse then, too?”

“Heavens above, Ravenna!” Azriel had snapped, running a hand through his hair. It had been a long day, his patience waned thin. “It’s not like anyone’s forcing you to get your wings clipped or marry you off to some scumbag. So why does it matter so much?”

“If I have to explain it to you, then you’re just as dumb as those brutes in Illyria.” Ravenna had snapped. “I want to change things, and you will not stand by my side in it. Why? Do you really care that much about the opinions of people who will hate you regardless?”

Her words had hit their mark, and he flinched. “I know they hate me, I don’t need you reminding me. You know I love you, why do you need my support if you’ve just decided you’re going to do things your own way no matter what I say?”

Ravenna had fixed him with another angry glare, violet eyes stormy. “Because we are supposed to be partners, and you are supposed to back me up on this. Instead, you hide and run away every time I try to stand up for what I believe in because you’re too scared of my father and the people of the court’s opinions.”

“I am not scared!” Azriel had growled, slamming his drawer so hard that the glass atop the wood came crashing down onto the floor.

“Yes, you are.” Ravenna had pushed back. “You’re being a coward, Azriel. If my father suddenly ordered I had my wings clipped, you would fight him on it. Why can’t you do the same for the hundreds of females who don’t have a male to advocate for them?”

“Because they’re not you! I care about you, and the rest of Illyria can go to hell. I want to end wing-clipping, I really do. But it’s not possible, not without losing the entire army.”

Ravenna had scoffed. “That’s selfish, Az. I am no better than those other females. The only difference is you’re not fucking them, so they’re not worthy of being advocated for I guess. You can’t just pick and choose which females you want to fight for.”

Azriel had whirled around in shock, fists clenched as Ravenna met his angry gaze. “Is that really what you think? Do you really think that low of me, that I would only support the ban on clipping because I’m sleeping with an Illyrian female?” He demanded before letting out a harsh laugh. “I suppose that’s on track for a spoiled princess like you to look down upon a lowborn bastard like me.”

Ravenna had flinched, and Azriel knew his words had stung. Good. He had wanted them to. “Do NOT turn this into a pity party for your sad, pathetic childhood.” She growled. “Your daddy and brothers hurt you? Boo hoo. Get over it. Females in Illyria and the Hewn City go through exactly what you did, only you’re free of it now and seem to not give a damn about them.”

Azriel had rolled his eyes, a pounding headache coming on. “For the last time, I do care!” He had insisted. “I just don't think it’s possible to create a perfect world where we can properly ban that shit. Why can’t we just move on and let this subject rest?”

“Because we are partners and one’s attitude about such matters shows a lot about who they are.” Ravenna had stood up, glaring at the shadowsinger.

Azriel’s brows had furrowed. “What are you saying?”

The fiery female had lifted her chin to meet his gaze, violet eyes hard as she spoke with a coldness that sent his shadows running. “That I don’t want to waste my time with a coward who will not stand by my side during difficult battles simply because it’s more convenient for him to ignore all of those problems since they don’t directly affect him.”

For the first time in that argument, Azriel had been speechless. His mind had screamed at him, urging him to say something to avoid losing her. But he didn’t. All he could do was stare emptily as Ravenna scoffed, turning on her heel and storming out.

All of those last night talks, the sneaking around the last few years, the relief of finally telling Rhys about their secret… Perhaps it was all for nothing, and the sensation of Ravenna’s soft body curled into his own would grow to become a distant memory.

Azriel shook his head, refusing to believe it. No, this may have been their worst fight yet. But time would pass and it would be forgotten, surely. He would accept no other answer. Ravenna was his reason for existing, no matter what anyone said or thought.

But that niggling worry remained. Ravenna had been colder lately, more distant. Granted, Azriel was not much better. Their productive conversations had been few and far between, most of their arguments ending in angry sex without any further discussion. It had worked so far, he had thought. Ravenna’s fiery temper thawed the icy wall he built around his rage, letting his usually well kept temper rise and bubble over. She knew just how to push his buttons, where to strike the hardest.

Just as he did with her.

Guilt plagued him as he remembered the things he said. How the light in her violet eyes went out like someone had splashed water over a raging bonfire. The way her voice turned ice cold as she said she was done with Azriel before she turned away. Fuck, he’d have a lot of apologizing to do.

A faint knock sounded at the door, much to Azriel’s surprise. The shadows hadn’t reported any movement outside, and it was the middle of the night. He practically lept from the bed, flinging open the door to his chamber and expecting to see Ravenna.

Only it was not his lover in the hallway, but rather a sombre looking guard. His expression was grave beneath the metal helm, voice serious as he spoke. “The High Lord requests your presence in his study.” Was all he said before turning away and retreating back down the long corridor.

Confused, Azriel pulled his shirt on and followed, noting how his shadows had gone eerily silent. His meetings with Rhysand’s father were never this late, leaving him to wonder what Ronan was up to. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.

The shadowsinger couldn’t sink the cold feeling that washed over him as he entered the High Lord’s study, where Rhys and Ronan already were. The High Lord was still in his regal night robes, his black hair aged with grey strands hanging loosely around his chiselled face, as if he hadn’t even run a hand through it yet. An animalistic rage simmered beneath his black eyes, and his knuckles were clenched as he gripped the back of the chair he stood behind.

Azriel bowed as he entered the room, but Ronan took no notice. He only stared at the desk in front of him, motionless. Shocked, Azriel looked at Rhys, who sat in one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Rhys only shrugged, confirming he, too, knew nothing about this late night meeting. Quietly, Azriel took the empty seat.

It felt like an eternity of cold silence before the High Lord finally raised his head, fixing each of them with a hard stare. “What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, do you understand me?” He said, his voice cutting through the tense air like a curved blade.

“Yes, my Lord.” Azriel said while Rhys nodded in agreement next to him.

Ronan’s black eyes were wild as he fought to calm himself. Azriel tried not to flinch as those hateful eyes landed on him specifically. “Not even your brutish friend finds out until I order it to be so, am I clear, boy?” He seethed. “The only reason you are even here is because this matter concerns my daughter, who you are currently courting.”

Azriel stiffened, his blood running cold. Panic began to rise in his chest, shadows gently stroking the scarred palm of his hand as if to soothe him. But he kept his expression neutral, merely nodding.

“There was an attack at the war-camp in the Eastern steppes,” The High Lord said through a hoarse voice, as if he had been screaming for hours. He turned to Rhysand. “The one I sent your mother and sister to.”

Beside him, Rhys went pale. It took every ounce of self control not to have Azriel’s expression falter as his heart raced. Blood rang in his ears, and the High Lord’s voice sounded as if he were speaking underwater. “There were no survivors,” He continued gravely. “All I found… all I found was Nienna’s head..”

Time seemed to slow around Azriel, his stomach dropping as if he had fallen a thousand feet. He could feel his blood coursing through his veins. No, he begged the Mother. No, please, don’t say it…

“...And Ravenna’s blood everywhere.”

Azriel barely heard the choked scream that Rhysand emitted from beside him. All he could feel was the world crumbling around him as he strayed out of thought and time. It was as if a roaring sea echoed in his ears, muffling the sound of his High Lord’s voice and his best friend’s sobs. He wanted to go to Rhys, to offer some form of comfort, but he was completely frozen. And he knew if he moved an inch, he would collapse to his knees.

“Did you look for a body?” Azriel’s voice was soft as death, afraid if he spoke any louder it would break entirely.

Enraged, a dark tendril of Ronan’s power lashed out and wrapped around his throat, suffocating him. But he barely felt it, his body numb. “Do you not think that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few hours, you stupid boy?” Ronan hissed furiously, eyes wild and spit flying from his mouth like a rabid dog. “You think I would not search high and low for the body of my mate? And my daughter?”

Azriel welcomed the suffocation for making him feel something other than what he was feeling. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not after the fight that they had the other morning.

Eventually after a few moments, the dark power retreated. Ronan sank down into his chair, eyes empty with grief. Azriel had never seen the High Lord exhibit any kind of emotion that wasn’t hatred or contempt until now. It was a jarring sight to behold, a chip in the heavy armour that had become a second skin for Ronan.

Azriel’s chest felt tight, as if a bomb were about to go off inside it and shatter his heart into a thousand pieces. All day, his shadows had whispered Ravenna’s name to him and he had brushed them off with annoyance. Guilt made his stomach churn as he thought of Ravenna, suffering and fighting for her last breaths as he ignored the warnings from his shadows. Somehow, they knew something was wrong. Perhaps if he had listened to them, he’d have been able to stop this somehow. A single tear slid down his cheek, burning hot against his cold skin as the grief began to settle in, the shock fading away.

“How did they find the camp?” Azriel forced himself to ask, though his throat was drier than a desert. Illyria was difficult to navigate for anyone not born there – for a foreign power to attack so precisely was worrying to say the least.

“I have my spies looking into it,” Ronan answered, anger returning to fill the emptiness in his dark eyes. “But they must have been tipped off. There are over a dozen war camps across Illyria, for Hybern to happen across the one with my mate and daughter is no coincidence.”

A shadow gently poked Azriel’s arm, whispering his friend’s name. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rhysand go pale. He had stopped crying, his eyes wide with horror. Realisation dawned over Azriel, and he forced his face to remain neutral. Rhys had befriended Tamlin of the Spring Court, son of the Spring High Lord – Ronan’s enemy. The two families hated each other, constantly looking for an excuse to break out into war. Azriel had not approved of the strange friendship between the High Lords’ sons, but had never said anything.

But based on Rhys’s expression, he had certainly said something to Tamlin. Something that may have caused this.

Upon seeing his son’s face, Ronan sharply turned his head towards him. Dark eyes narrowed as he spoke with a growl, “If you have something to say, boy, spit it out before I pry it from you myself.”

More tears spilled down Rhys’s face. “I’m sorry…” He sputtered. “I’m so sorry…”

Azriel could barely breathe. His heart stopped as he felt the High Lord’s dark power fill the room as Ronan rose from his chair. His shadows hid themselves as the tension thickened. Ever so slightly, he situated himself ready to leap and help his friend. That is, if he didn’t throw up everywhere first.

“What did you do?” Ronan growled. When Rhys didn’t answer, the High Lord slammed his fist down onto the table so hard the wood splintered, making both Azriel and Rhys flinch. “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?” He roared furiously.

Rhys’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I mentioned to Tamlin that my mother and sister would be going to the camp in the Eastern Steppes for a few days. But I swear–”

“You told that Spring Court boy?” There was no mistaking the pure rage that bled from Ronan’s voice as he stormed around the desk, grabbing Rhys by his collar and shaking them. Azriel could not bring himself to move – he had suspected that Rhys may have revealed their location to the enemy, but hearing him admit it out loud was like a tidal wave crashing over him. “You told my enemies where my mate and daughter were going to be? Tamlin must have run straight to his father, who gladly tipped off Hybern.”

“He wouldn’t have told him willingly!” Rhys protested, violet eyes desperate. “Tamlin isn’t like that–”

“Silence! I told you that you were to end your ridiculous friendship with that boy. That he would stab you in the back one day if you did not do so first. He has betrayed you and if you hadn’t told him where Nienna and Ravenna were, they would still be here!”

Anger rose within Azriel. On the one hand, part of him wanted to defend Rhys. To his knowledge, Tamlin had always protested against the brewing feud between the families only to be shut down by his cruel father. But he couldn’t help but feel like strangling Rhys for being so careless.

Rhys only stared at his father, body limp with no resistance to the rough treatment. “I’m so sorry…” Was all he could say, over and over again.

Eventually, Ronan released his son, and Rhys slumped against the back of his chair. The High Lord stared at him with hatred. “The only reason I am not ending your pathetic life right here is because you are my only heir.” He hissed. “When we get back, you will be paying for this mistake, believe me.”

“Where are we going?” Rhys asked as Ronan snapped his fingers, their night robes quickly transforming into battle gear.

“To the Spring Court. We are going to teach that family a lesson, and you are going to help me. I want every member of that family dead by morning.”

Azriel’s heart dropped. Rhys blanched even further, looking at Azriel for support. But he could not meet his eyes. A thousand different emotions ran through him – guilt for not listening to his shadows earlier, anger at Rhys for giving away such sensitive information to someone from the enemy’s side, and regret at the way he spoke to Ravenna during their last conversation. It was all too much, threatening to boil over if he saw even one second of the apologetic glance from his friend. Stiffening his shoulders, Azriel took a breath. He had to keep it together in the presence of the High Lord.

Ronan stormed past him, a mighty sword in hand. Rhys followed him, and the door slammed behind him on the way out. Finally, Azriel was left alone. He winnowed to the cliffs upon the tops of the mountains surrounding Velaris, letting his shadows swallow him whole and remove him from the room where he received the most devastating news of his life.

The biting, icy chill of the wind was welcome as the shadowsinger emerged on top of the distant cliffs, where he sank to his knees on the cold rock and fell apart, letting out a hoarse scream towards the glowing stars above.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @decadentpostnacho @lizurich @throneofsapphics @

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theladyofdeath · 1 year

Text

The Holiday {7}

WARNING: NSFW. 18+ only.

Ships: Nesta x Cassian / Aelin x Rowan

Written alongside @snelbz

Trope(s): Christmas, fluff, love at first sight, enemies to lovers, New Year's

A/N: This chapter is for 18+ readers only. We hope you all had a great Christmas! Enjoy these last few chapters! x

Rating: M for mature - language, smut, substance use, etc. 18+.

Inspired by The Holiday (2006).

Aelin was completely unashamed to admit that she was looking out the front window of the cottage every five minutes to see if Rowan was coming early. He said he’d be there at six with a bag full of groceries to make her dinner, and it was already a quarter to.

After last night, there were no nerves, only excitement.

She had ultimately decided on something far more comfortable than the night before. Instead of a sleek dress that showed off her figure beautifully, she wore leggings, a baggy sweater, and her favorite boot socks. She had no doubt that Rowan was not the kind of man to mind comfort on a date.

Especially a home date.

Despite her cozy attire, she made sure her makeup was pristine and her messy bun was just messy enough. She was in the bathroom, adjusting her hair, when she finally heard a knock from the front door.

Launching herself into the hallway, she hurried to the door before skidding to a stop in front of it. Aelin took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and opened it.

The blast of cold air made her grateful for that deep breath and she closed the door as soon as Rowan was over the threshold. She turned to him and smiled as he tugged his black beanie off. His hair was messier than hers, but not nearly as intentional.

Chuckling, she reached up and smoothed out his hair. “Hi.”

He let her with no hesitation. “Hi.”

Noting the bags in his hands, she took them away from him and carried them to the kitchen once she deemed his hair smooth enough.

“I’m not saying I’m a chef by any means,” Rowan began, kicking off his boots and taking off his coat, “but I’m about to make you a kickass meal.”

With a grin, Aelin tried peeking in one of the bags but Rowan was instantly beside her, swatting her hand away.

“Surprise meal,” he clarified. He did, however, pull out a bottle of wine and a pint of whiskey. “To keep us satisfied until then.”

“Charming,” she murmured, getting two glasses out of one of the cupboards. “Keeping me occupied with alcohol.”

Rowan chuckled as he searched around Nesta’s kitchen for everything he needed. “Don’t worry, you won’t be drinking alone.”

Aelin poured him a glass of whiskey before blessing herself with a massive glass of wine that she had absolutely no shame in.

Sitting on a barstool, Aelin drank her wine, listening with rapt attention as Rowan recounted Sutton’s tales from ice skating earlier in the day. Even though she was staying the night with her grandmother again, he’d picked her up that morning, ran a few errands and ended up at the rink in the middle of the small town square.

“She swears it was an accident and she bumped into me, but what seven year-old girl bumps with enough force to knock a grown man on his ass?” Rowan asked, chuckling, shaking his head as he chopped veggies and transferred them onto a large baking dish. Aelin had laughed, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. His smile was easy as he began seasoning two large steaks, eyes dancing between her and the food he was preparing. “I’m okay though, in case you were worried.”

“Why would you think I was worried?” Aelin crooned quietly before taking another sip from her glass.

She could see Rowan grin even though he was watching the knife at work in his hand. “I had a feeling.”

Aelin snorted but didn’t bother correcting him.

Forty minutes later, Aelin sat across from Rowan at the little kitchen table and breathed in the display before her. Rowan had made steak, cooked in homemade garlic butter, and a medley of fresh vegetables. He also brought cheese bread, which he made from scratch, and Aelin found that stupidly charming.

“So not only are you a lumberjack,” Aelin began, cutting up her steak, “but a hell of a cook, too?”

Rowan shrugged. “I just watched enough YouTube videos to know how to make my way through a kitchen.”

Aelin laughed at the thought of Rowan studying YouTube videos. It was adorable, to say the least. “Well, YouTube is a great teacher, because this is fantastic.”

She had to keep herself from moaning when she popped a bite of steak into her mouth.

Rowan watched her intently. His eyes trailed her movements, watching as her mouth opened and closed, watched as her eyelids fluttered shut from the pure bliss of deliciousness. When her eyes opened once more, she caught his gaze and smiled.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” she asked. “I’m not the neatest eater, I know.”

Rowan swallowed, shaking his head. “No, nothing on your face.”

Aelin’s cheeks warmed as she continued to cut up her steak. “Well, then by all means, continue to stare.”

Rowan chuckled, straightening as he focused on his own plate. “I’m glad we’re doing this, Aelin. Even though you’re leaving in a few days…I like spending time with you. I feel like our time together has gone by too quickly.”

Aelin felt that way too. The thought of leaving next week made her chest ache, but there was nothing she could do about it. Once she left, she would always remember the handsome lumberjack that made her chest ache and her knees go weak.

Rather than linger on it, on the disappointment the thought of leaving him dredged up, she steered the subject elsewhere. “Now what about dessert?”

There was a beat of silence. “Dessert?”

She nodded. “The delicious course eaten after dinner? Usually there’s cake or cookies or something sweet like that.”

Aelin leaned back in her chair, immensely enjoying watching Rowan start to panic. They’d discussed her love of all things dessert, most specifically chocolate cake, the night before and she wanted to see if he’d remembered.

From the look on his face, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I, uh, didn’t bring dessert.”

Smirking, Aelin tipped her wine glass back, emptying it, before she stood. “It’s a good thing I did then.”

Rowan’s eyes narrowed as he watched her cross the kitchen to the fridge, where she pulled out a box from the local bakery. “It’s not nice to try and make people sweat.”

“Nice isn’t necessarily how people often describe me,” Aelin said, chuckling as she set the box down on the counter. Her eyes lit up once she opened the box and saw the magnificent chocolate cake staring up at her. “Besides, anyone who forgets about dessert is begging to be teased.”

Aelin cut a slice for herself then one for Rowan, and his eyes remained on her as she brought both plates back to the table.

He blinked at the slice in front of him. “This is massive.”

Aelin snorted, digging in. “Please, I can eat this entire thing by myself. Just be happy I’m being generous.”

Rowan huffed a laugh before taking a bite himself. It was delicious, one of the best cakes Aelin could remember eating. Halfway through, Rowan asked, “What did you mean by people not thinking you’re nice? I know we just met, but I wouldn’t describe you as otherwise.”

Aelin took a minute to think about her answer. “I’m a young woman in a big, corporate law office… I guess I’ve had to create a tough exterior for myself.”

He took another bite, chewing slowly, before setting the fork down. “You don’t seem real thrilled about that.”

Shrugging, Aelin used her fork to mash up a few bites of her cake. She’d done her best not to think about Arrobyn or work or really home at all while she’d been in Orynth, save for a few texts back and forth with Lys or Elide, but now her impending return brought it to the forefront. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy what I do. Yeah, the hours are a bit long and my boss can be a real asshole, but I make great money. Can’t really complain about having to be more assertive than I’d prefer.”

Rowan studied her for a moment and she felt scrutinized by the intensity of his stare, but he nodded at last and took another bite of his cake. Most likely getting the hint that this is not something she wants to talk about, Rowan changed the subject. “Seriously, I don’t know how you eat this junk. It’s too sweet.”

Aelin pushed her anxious thoughts of work away and gaped at the man across from her. “I don’t trust a man that doesn’t like chocolate cake.”

Rowan took a piece of cake between his fingers and tossed it at Aelin, where it hit her square in the face. She picked it up and ate it, saying how no one should ever waste such goodness, and continued to eat both pieces of cake before taking everything to the counter to wash the dishes. Rowan volunteered to help, and even though Aelin protested because he cooked, she eventually gave in and let him be the one to dry after she washed.

After putting the last of the dishes back into the cabinet, Aelin leaned back against the counter. “I’ve got something for you.”

The dish towel he’d used to dry the dishes was in his hands and he paused where he’d been draping it over the edge of the sink. “You do?”

She nodded, words suddenly foreign to her.

“I— I don’t have anything for you,” he admitted, looking embarrassed.

Scoffing, Aelin left the kitchen and headed for the tree. “You just made me the most delicious steak I’ve ever eaten. That’s a gift in itself.” She picked up a package wrapped in paper decorated with little, green trees. Sitting down on the couch, she placed the present on the coffee table. “I thought the wrapping paper was fitting.”

Rowan chuckled as he sat next to her, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s not much,” Aelin continued, “so don’t think too much on it…but I saw it this morning when, you know, I was buying the world's best cake and thought of you.”

Rowan’s eyes lit up and she thought he may like her thinking about him. She sure as hell liked thinking about him.

Rowan picked up the gift and fiddled with the paper for a moment before Aelin said, “Gods, lumberjack, just rip into it.”

With a grin, Rowan did just that. A small white box was beneath the paper, which he opened politely and took out what was inside.

Aelin bit her lip as Rowan pulled out the mug and read what was on it.

An image of a burly lumberjack was on the front standing next to a tree with a face. The speech bubble above the lumberjack read, May I AXE you a question? And the speech bubble above the tree read, AXE away.

Rowan stared at for a second, suppressing a grin, before looking up at Aelin. “This is, by far, the nerdiest gift anyone has ever gotten me.”

Aelin finally let out her laughter as her face fell into her hands. She groaned. “I thought it was cute!”

Rowan fell back into the couch as his laughter matched hers. “It is. I love it. Thank you, Aelin.”

When Aelin pulled her face out of her hands and looked at Rowan, he was already watching her. His smile was soft and the look in his eyes stripped her bare.

“You’re welcome,” she said, her voice suddenly quieter.

The silence fell between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, listening to the wood pop and crack inside the hearth. Rowan was the one to break it. “Any Christmas Eve traditions you’re skipping this year?”

Shaking her head, Aelin tucked her legs beneath her on the couch. “I’ve always spent it with my cousin and his fiancée, but they just had their first baby. They’re making their own traditions now. You?”

“Sutton and I watch the Polar Express every year,” he replied, a wistful tone in his voice. “This is the first year in a long time I haven’t watched it.”

“Is she watching it at her grandma’s?” Aelin asked. He nodded and she bit her lip. “Would you… would you like to watch it with me?”

Rowan arched a brow. “Seriously?”

Aelin nodded. “I’m sure I could find it on some streaming service. I haven’t watched it in years. Why not?”

Rowan’s surprised expression softened and he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Aelin searched all of her streaming services before renting it from Amazon Prime. She pulled it up on her laptop and they got comfortable on the couch together as the movie started.

Rowan’s arm was around her and she leaned into him with no hesitation. Her head rested on his shoulder as his fingertips drew soft, slow circles on her arm. Aelin’s hand rested on his knee.

They weren’t even halfway through the movie when Aelin couldn’t ignore the urge any longer and kissed him.

He laid her down on the couch, their kiss going from something soft to something demanding very quickly. It was nothing like their kiss the night before, although just as sweet. Aelin wrapped her arms around his neck as his tongue danced alongside hers. She didn’t know how long she spent kissing Rowan, but she knew that she had kissed him long until her lips were bruised and exhaustion overpowered her.

She fell asleep on the couch, wrapped in Rowan’s arms, perfectly happy and utterly satisfied.

<.>.<.>.<.>

Nesta had never been so bored. Typically, she was okay being an introvert, but there was something strange about being alone on Christmas Eve. It didn’t feel right.

She’d FaceTimed with her sisters during dinner and had sent her editors updated drafts, which went unanswered. It figured that as soon as she was ready, they were MIA.

Granted, it was a holiday, so she couldn’t exactly blame them.

At quarter to eight, she’d found a bottle of vodka under Aelin’s kitchen cabinet and with a gallon of orange juice, she settled onto the couch to keep watching true crime documentaries. As she was returning to her seat with a refill, she saw movement outside on the sidewalk and glanced out the window by the door.

Sure enough, Cassian was opening his own gate and hurrying towards his front door. He didn’t have his guitar with him but after watching him come home from the Illyrian night after night, she knew he often left it at the bar.

He was alone.

She wondered if he wanted to be alone.

Every time he saw her, he invited her over, told her his door was always open, and for the first time…she wanted to act on that offer.

After taking a sip from her tall glass, Nesta slipped on her boots and hurried across the street. She knocked on the door and waited.

Cassian yelled something from the other side of the door that she couldn’t decipher but appeared a minute later in sweatpants.

He was in the middle of pulling a t-shirt on and Nesta caught a long glimpse of perfectly toned, tan abs.

Gods, he was fit.

As soon as he realized who stood in front of him, shock contoured his features. That shock quickly turned into satisfaction and a grin crept across his mouth. “Nesta.”

Suddenly, Nesta felt ridiculous so she spewed out the first excuse that came into her head. “I need sugar.”

Cassian lifted a brow, that grin spreading. “Sugar?”

“I’m baking,” she lied.

Cassian's arms crossed across his chest. “Do I look like the type of guy that has sugar lying around?”

“Some people take it in their coffee,” she stated. “Even if they don’t bake, they have it around.”

Cassian shook his head. “Sorry. I take mine black. No sugar here. But, if you’d like to tell me why you really came across the street, maybe I could help you there.”

“I—” She hesitated for a second, wondering why she had come over here. She’d come to Velaris to get away from everyone, yet she couldn’t get the man in front of her out of her mind. He’d been at the forefront, no matter how hard she tried to ignore him. It had been his eyes or his husky voice or the maddening way he teased her at every opportunity. With a sigh, she added, “It felt pathetic to spend Christmas Eve on my own.”

Cassian hummed and looked over his shoulder. “I completely agree. You may as well come in.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, ready to attack him for his sarcastic remark when she was being serious, but then she stopped herself. She imagined that this was Cassian being nice, that he rarely was serious, so she sighed. “Alright.” Cassian stepped out of the way to let her pass but Nesta hesitated. “Alcohol.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, cocking his head to the side. “Alcohol?”

“I just filled a drink,” she explained, “and I left my show paused. Why don’t you…come join me?”

Cassian swore, eyes bright. “An offer from Nesta. I should consider myself lucky.”

She rolled her eyes and began walking down his steps. “Don’t ruin it.”

Cassian slipped on his boots and grabbed a sweatshirt before shutting his door behind him, following Nesta across the street. She only looked over her shoulder once and swore she caught him staring at her ass.

He had no shame in it.

They were quiet as they entered the house but Cassian slipped off his shoes and made himself perfectly at home, as if he’d been there a thousand times before.

She supposed he had.

Plopping down on Aelin’s couch, Cassian propped up his giant, socked feet on the coffee table and snatched the remote off the cushion beside him. “True crime documentaries? On Christmas Eve? Mother’s tits, woman.”

“Pretty crude mouth you’ve got there,” Nesta muttered, pouring Cassian a drink before grabbing her own and walking into the living room.

“I have a feeling yours is just as filthy,” Cassian crooned as he thanked her for the drink. “You forget your sex toy arrived on my front porch.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and hated the fact that her cheeks heated as she sat opposite of Cassian on the couch.

“That I did not get for myself,” Nesta reminded him.

Cassian shrugged and took a sip from his glass. He barely got it down before he scrunched his nose. “The hell is this?”

Nesta snorted. “A screwdriver?”

Cassian shook his head, even as he took another gulp. “This is awful.”

“Then why are you drinking it?”

“Who the hell turns down free alcohol?”

“Touché.” After another large gulp, Nesta reached across the empty couch cushion and snatched the remote from Cassian. “Back to true crime. Can’t handle it?”

“I just don’t think it should be watched on Christmas.”

“You’re a hallmark man, aren’t you? You love a good romance.”

Cassian barked a laugh and took another drink with a distorted look on his face. This banter was so easy with him. “Everyone loves a good hallmark movie at Christmas time.”

Nesta shook her head. “Every Christmas movie is the same.”

“They are not,” he scoffed, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. “Which version do you prefer? Big city writer guy who just got out of a relationship falls for a single mom on the verge of losing her bakery? Or a successful business woman who’s too busy for love falls for a handsome country boy who teaches her the true meaning of Christmas?”

They stared at each other in silence for a second until Cassian’s lips quirked to the side. “Big city writer guy and country girl.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes and took a drink. “You would.”

“Got me all figured out, do you?” Cassian asked, giving another distasteful frown as he took a drink.

“You’re not that much of a mystery,” she muttered, tossing back her drink far faster than she should.

Cassian, even though he complained about the fruity drink, was working his way through his own fairly quickly. “I can’t say the same for you. You’re one hell of a mystery.”

“Am I?” Nesta asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. She had been told that one too many times throughout her life, mostly from men. “Maybe you’re just too dimwitted to figure me out.”

“Calling me dumb?”

“Absent-minded.”

Cassian only grinned and she hated how much she found him attractive when he grinned.

Handsome bastard.

“What if I want to unravel you?”

The question caught her off guard. Surely he wasn’t being that blunt, was he? Yes, he’d already mentioned the sex toy her sisters had ordered for her, but he had no idea that it sat unused in her suitcase. For someone who wrote romance novels, her sex life had been nonexistent, even on her own, since she’d left Tomas. She hadn’t been interested, had been more focused on finishing her latest book, but now, looking at Cassian lounging across the couch? She was suddenly very interested.

“I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know who you are or what you do for a living.”

But then she realized he didn’t mean he wanted to physically unravel anything. He wanted to get to know her.

And she felt foolish for thinking he meant anything else.

“I’m a writer,” she blurted, feeling the unsettling warmth of her face turning a horrid shade of red. “So.”

Cassian just stared at her with that dumbass smirk on his mouth. “Did I make you blush?”

Nesta finished her drink and stood without giving him an answer before going to refill her drink.

“If you’re playing bartender, I could use a refill too,” he said, holding up his drink.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” she said, her heart still beating quickly as she mixed her own drink.

“It grew on me,” he confessed, lazily. “The more I drank, the less I tasted.”

Nesta wanted to snap at him, tell him to get his own damn drink, but she supposed she had offered to host him for the night.

Slowly, she walked back to the couch and took his cup from his hand. When their fingertips brushed, her jaw locked.

Cassian’s grin grew.

She could feel his heavy gaze on her as she went to mix him a drink. Nesta never knew how much to weigh the alcohol when mixing drinks. Hopefully the guy knew how to hold his liquor as well as she did.

“A writer,” Cassian began as she came back to the couch. “What is it that you write?”

“Contemporary romance,” Nesta replied, handing him his drink before taking her seat again on the other side of the couch. She could have sworn he was sitting just a little closer than he had been before.

“Romance,” he mused, raising his drink to his lips. “So you love true love, huh?”

Nesta let out a particularly unladylike little snort. “Not particularly. Not sure I believe in it.”

Cassian’s brow furrowed. “You write love stories but you don’t believe in true love?”

“Never seen it myself,” Nesta said, matter-of-factly, taking a large sip from her straw. “Besides, people don’t really read my romance novels for love.”

“Then what do they read them for?” He asked, his tone genuinely curious.

Nesta realized what she said and froze.

For a moment, Cassian was silent but she knew he was piecing it all together as his eyes widened. “Oh. You write romance.”

“I—”

“You write smut,” he went on, giddily. “Nesta, the porn writer.”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“This explains the vibrating dildo that landed on my doorstep much better,” he said, and his satisfied grin was infuriating. “Doing research for your next masterpiece?”

Nesta grabbed a throw pillow and hurled it at him, but he caught it with one hand and held it against his chest. “Hey, no judgment. I’m fact, I’d love to read—”

“No.” The word was clipped before she drank from her cup that was already becoming quite light, yet again.

“Come on,” he said, a husky laugh lacing each word. “Let me read some of what you wrote.”

“If you want to read it, you’ll have to go to the bookstore and pay up just like everyone else,” Nesta said, and the gods damn her, she was almost smiling as she did.

“That’s not fair,” Cassian protested, swirling around what’s left in his cup. “After all we’ve been through these last few days, surely I get some sort of special holiday-acquaintance privilege.”

“Oh, please,” she laughed quietly, leaning forward to set her empty glass on the coffee table. “I’ll be gone in a few days and you’ll never think of me again. Your groupies at the bar will be thankful.”

His fingers skimmed her shoulder as she sat back. When she glanced over at him, she wasn’t expecting his gaze to be so intense. “You think that’s true?”

One of her shoulders rose and fell. “Why wouldn't it be? We bonded over sex toys, acoustic covers, and burgers, but I’ll go back to my life and you’ll keep on with yours.”

“Just because you aren’t staying doesn’t mean you're forgettable.”

It was a piece of dialogue she would write for one of her male love interests, a series of words so desirable to be heard that no man in the real world would ever say it out loud.

Until now.

Her head fell to the side as she studied him. At some point during their conversation, they’d drifted much closer to one another and now shared the same space.

“I think you’re full of shit.” There was no bite to her voice. In fact, the words fell out of her breathlessly as his eyes darted to her lips and back up again. “And maybe a little drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he said, quieter than before, as he shook his head. Fingertips came up and brushed away a stray strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. His touch burned her skin in its wake. “Not any drunker than you.”

Nesta wasn’t drunk. Maybe a little tipsy, but still fully in control of herself and her emotions. At least that’s what she told herself as she slid a hand over his sweatpants, up his hard thigh.

Cassian shifted, an arm going behind her on the back of the couch.

It was escalating, quickly, but she couldn’t help the natural draw to him.

That, and the fact that she was horny as hell. It had been a while. The alcohol didn’t help.

Cassian's jaw ticked and Nesta glanced down at her hand, seeing it was mere inches away from the long, thick outline forming beneath the gray fabric.

In the silence, Cassian’s chest rose and fell with his deep breaths.

“Still not going to let me read any of your work?” Cassian asked, voice low and taunting.

Nesta shook her head as Cassian shifted on the couch yet again, moving closer to her. Silent acceptance in this game they had started playing that Nesta had quickly taken control of. “I’m not in the mood for reading.”

“What is it you’re in the mood for?” He asked, that hand that was behind her coming up to cradle her face.

She kissed him.

It was hard, and sloppy, but Cassian didn’t seem to give a damn as he took her by the hips and dragged her on top of him.

His hands slipped beneath her sweater and she gasped against his lips as they skimmed over the bare skin of her back. They were colder than the rest of him but she didn’t let it stop them, didn’t deter her from what she wanted.

And what she wanted lay beneath them, pressed between their bodies and Nesta groaned as she ground down along his hardened cock.

Cassian’s groan was deeper, not nearly as needy as hers, but the sound filled Nesta’s core with liquid heat. She broke the kiss, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side.

He studied her, eyes so dark they matched the night outside, and Nesta had never felt as sexy as she as he looked her over. She didn’t even care that she wore a boring, t-shirt bra, not sexy lingerie.

Cassian didn’t seem to care either.

His mouth trailed down the side of her neck and Nesta’s head fell to the side as he wandered. With his hands still on her waist, he sucked on the swell of her breast, just above her bra line. With parted lips, Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut.

It had been so long since she had been worshiped by a man.

Calloused fingertips trailed up her back and undid the clasp, letting her plain Jane bra fall to the carpet. A deep groan left Cassian’s throat as he took her peaked nipple between his lips and sucked.

As he savored every taste, Nesta’s fingers dove into his messy, loose hair and she rocked her hips against his erection, slowly, as Cassian moved from one breast to the other.

Nesta knew that she was blessed when it came to her breasts, always thought they were one of her greatest assets, and it seemed that Cassian thought so, too.

He only leaned back for a split second for Nesta to take off his sweatshirt and the t-shirt beneath it before his lips found her breasts yet again.

Nesta’s hands began to wander over his broad shoulders, across the ink that sprawled across his tanned skin. Every inch of him was hard. His muscles flexed as he rocked his hips with hers, as he grabbed her ass and squeezed.

“Bedroom,” she murmured in between fervent kisses. “Now.”

Cassian took little convincing. He stood, her legs immediately circling his waist and his hands squeezed her ass tighter. All of the hot, tan skin before her was too much to bear and Nesta’s lips were on his neck as he carried her towards the stairs and the bedroom beyond.

“Gods, your mouth,” he groaned, voice deeper than she’d heard it before.

She was so focused on the feeling of his skin beneath her lips that she hadn’t realized where they were until she was dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. Before she could right herself, could gather her bearings, Cassian’s mouth was at her breast again, teeth tugging lightly on her nipple. With her head thrown back, Nesta moaned, the slight pain amplifying the pleasure coursing through her.

His mouth was gone a second later. She wanted to protest, to grab the luscious head of hair and guide him back where she wanted him.

But then his fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings and she shut right up.

He yanked them off, her underwear going with them, and his eyes darkened as he admired the display before him. Nesta did not balk from his stare. Confidence radiated off of her — something that she did owe to the alcohol.

Cassian took his time drinking her in, let his eyes wander and memorize every inch of her bare body. Nesta could hear his heavy breaths in the silence, mixed with her own, and then he approached the bed and crawled over her.

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers but keeping his distance. Horrible, bastardly tease.

“So needy,” he breathed, nipping at her mouth. “How long has it been since you’ve been pleasured, sweetheart?”

Gods, she didn’t even know.

Too long.

Months.

Too many months.

Even before Tomas and her broke up, it had been a while since they were intimate. Even so, he never had her heart about to burst through her chest like it was about to now.

“Shut up,” Nesta whispered through shuddering breaths, “and fuck me.”

The grin he gave her was wicked and unyielding as he pushed himself up onto his knees and slid down his sweatpants until they were tossed behind him, long forgotten.

Nesta’s eyes immediately fell to his hard cock. She’d felt it as they’d kissed, knew that he was well equipped, but seeing and feeling were two different things. She couldn’t recall a time she’d ever thought a cock was pretty, but Cassian’s was perfect. She whimpered as he began to stroke himself, her eyes meeting his.

“Condom?” He asked, glancing at the nightstand.

Nesta shook her head, thankful she didn’t have to rummage through her host’s drawers for protection. “IUD.”

That was good enough for Cassian, who crawled over her body, pressing kisses all over her chest, neck and face. He claimed her mouth in a kiss that made her world spin. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and when she opened for him, it greedily danced with her own. Nesta kissed him like he was the air she needed to breathe. Her hands were in his hair, on his skin, dragging over muscles and ink and anything she could touch. The feeling of him was intoxicating.

The hand that had been twisted into her hair begun a lazy path down her body, pausing to knead her breast and circle her nipple, before slipping between her parted thighs.

Nesta gasped as she felt his fingers slide between her folds, teasing at her entrance.

“So wet,” he murmured against her lips. “Is that for me, Nesta?”

Gods, her name on his lips was erotic.

“Answer me,” he said, pulling away just a hair.

Nesta’s eyes locked with his as her hand ran down between them and wrapped around his length. A low groan came out of Cassian as his lips quirked into a humored grin. “If I say yes, will you finally stop with all these questions?”

“Only if it’s the truth,” he quipped.

Nesta’s free hand ran through Cassian's hair and tugged gently on the strands. He slowly thrust himself into her grasp with a roll of his hips.

“I’ve been this wet for you for days,” she breathed, and then his mouth was on hers again. She clung to him, their bodies moving together wildly on top of the blankets.

“Cassian,” she panted, when his mouth slid to her jaw where he nipped and sucked. “Please.”

His hand slid to her thigh and he moved her leg up higher across his backside before positioning himself just right. He pulled back just in time to see her reaction as he slid inside of her.

Eyes going wide, Nesta gasped as he sank into her heat. He was so thick that Nesta felt like her entire body was adjusting to the size of him.

“Tell me when I can move,” he said, leaning down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

Nesta was powerless to stop the quiet moans once Cassian began kissing her. Every small movement, every shift and bump and grind made her nerve endings come alive. She wanted him to move. Not only to move, she wanted him to touch her.

Shifting her hips, Nesta took Cassian’s bottom lip between her teeth and tugged.

The growl that left him was her only warning.

Cassian leaned back, sitting up on his knees and gripped both of Nesta’s hips before snapping his own into hers. Nesta cried out, the feeling so much more intense than just the slow roll he’d given as he pushed into her.

Cassian's thumb found her clit and he rolled it effortlessly as he thrust into her again and again, recklessly and wildly with perfect expertise. Nesta’s body felt it all, every inch of her on fire and tingling. She had no control of the sounds tumbling from her mouth, had no control of her hands as they wandered his thighs, as her nails dug into his skin. She fell into a state of pure euphoria as her back arched and her body began to tremble. Cassian did not hold back, did not falter in the slightest as her knees shook around him and she cried out. As she came around him, Cassian cursed and watched where their bodies were joined, watched where he fell into her with no remorse or hesitation.

When Nesta regained her composure, she took control. She pushed back on Cassian’s chest and he had hardly slowed when she rolled him over and sank down on top of him. He fell into the pillows with a groan as she rode him and he watched as her full breasts bounced, just as he had before.

Cassian’s eyes were something to behold. Beautiful, of course, but fierce, intense as they grazed her body. He paid attention to every damn detail, took in every inch of her and liked what he saw, without a doubt.

Beneath her, his hips moved with hers, thrusting up as she came down, and as Nesta’s knees began to shake once more, Cassian’s own movements grew unsteady. He pulled her down to crush his mouth with hers as he came, groaning between her lips, and as Nesta helped him ride out his orgasm, she completely unraveled.

Every ounce of herself that she had kept in check was gone, totally lost, to him.

As she fell into his chest with heavy breaths and reality began to sink back in, Nesta only knew one thing: she was in a whole lot of trouble.

#nessian #rowaelin #holiday fic #shacmc collab #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #tog #acotar #crossover

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copypastus · 2 months

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One final treat for the closing day of Poly+ ACOTAR Week @polyacotarweek - all the acoships I personally would enjoy more if they were throuples

Had a blast drawing for this event! Hope you find your favourite ship on the pile!

@taymartiart included your favourite crossover ship just for you with bruntriel

and ofc @ashintheairlikesnow’s acolar tamarhysand is for me coz this fic owns my soul

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kindasleepywriter · 7 months

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MASTERLIST

I accept requests, but I can't promise I'll write each one, I'm sometimes busy with my doctorate!

A few things to clarify first:

I try my best to be race-inclusive in xReader fics. If something slips by, don't hesitate to comment on it!

I write fem!reader only

No use of Y/N

If your blog looks like a bot (no pfp, nothing in bio, etc) you run the risk of getting blocked! Just put anything to show you're human pls i beg

AZRIEL (ACOTAR)

Bird of Prey (Angst, Fluff) - Ongoing

Summary: Azriel meets what he thinks to be a sweet but naïve Peregryn in the autumn court only to see her again centuries later, about to coldly slice a man’s throat on Night court territory. Azriel struggles to reconcile his memory of the girl and what he witnesses, and is determined to find out who she is. Act I : Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 Act II : TBA.

BoP oneshot - Public Displays of Attention (Fluff)

Summary: Cassian comments on Reader and Az's affectionate gestures during Winter Solstice.

RHYSAND (ACOTAR)

Before you leave me (Angst, no happy ending)

Summary: After centuries spent by your side, Rhysand withdraws from you. (Songfic)

NESTA (ACOTAR)

Loving Comfort (Fluff, smut)

Summary: A fae's cycle is a rare event, but it comes with a long list of discomforts. Luckily for you, your mate is by your side to make things better.

CAL KESTIS (STAR WARS JEDI SERIES)

An Unexpected Visit (Pre-relationship)

Summary: You find a little metal friend in your lonely workshop on Koboh and you have no idea where he came from. The answer to that question brings you more hope than you thought it would.

(Request) The Way to a Droid's Heart (Pre-relationship)

Summary: Cal demonstrates what happens to those who mess with you.

WORKS IN PROGRESS-

Currently writing:

Azriel x Reader - Bird of Prey (ongoing) Elain x reader (Oneshot)

Currently planning:

Cyberpunk / DBH crossover (possible series) Amren x reader (oneshot) Morrigan x reader (oneshot)

#masterlist #azriel #cal kestis

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anothermarkedone · 6 months

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Empyrean masterlist

I don't see many Garrick, Bodhi, Ridoc, Sawyer, Rhiannon and Imogen fics, so I've decided to make my own!

IMPORTANT NOTE! Don't expect many fast posts, I'm currently focusing on my mental health and I'm also busy writing for the Avatar movies (with the blue people, not the elements lol) If you're into Avatar, follow my Avatar acc @avatarrecom!

Requests are open!

Who I write for:

Garrick Tavis.

Bodhi Durran.

Rhiannon Matthias.

Imogen Cardulo.

Ridoc Gamlyn.

Sawyer.

Brennan Sorrengail.

You can request poly fics with them or with another character (as long as one of the characters above are involved)

Key: Smut: 🔥 Suggestive: ❤️‍🔥 Fluff: 💗 Angst: ☔️ Humor: 💩

- Other

I'm too old to get adopted, right? (Fourth Wing & ACOTAR crossover)💩

- Poly fics

Nothing yet!

- Garrick

Nothing yet!

- Bodhi

Nothing yet!

- Rhiannon

Nothing yet!

- Imogen

Nothing yet!

- Ridoc

Fourth Wing Pranksters ❤️‍🔥 💩

- Sawyer

Nothing yet!

- Brennan

Nothing yet!

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marvelsmylife · 21 days

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Y’all I’m so excited to announce the next fics I’m writing.

One is an avengers x acotar crossover but it’s centered around eris. The title and plot for the story will be down below. Please let me know if you wish to be tagged. The others are Liam Mairi x reader stories (I’ll also write the plot below as well.)

Finally found you

Pairing: Eris x stark!reader

Plot: after being apart for a year you decide to visit an old friend (Rhysand). Who would have thought that visit would end with you meeting your mate.

Mr. Pouty face

Pairing: Liam Mairi x reader

Plot: Liam gets pouty when you don’t say I love you back to him.

I’ve got you

Pairing: Liam Mairi x reader

Plot: you and your dragon save Liam and deigh from getting killed

#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x reader #liam mairi imagine #liam mairi x you #liam mairi x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader

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grandpuppyalpaca · 1 month

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I Want To Actually Write Some Fics

So, I'm finally moving to a dorm away from "home" in a few months, and I want to take the opportunity to finally start writing some of the fanfics that have been calibrating in the back of my mind.

Warnings in advance:

I will only be writing fanfic, not original works.

I have never shared or published fics before (Unless you count reading the occasional snippet in Creating Writing Club).

As of right now, I have no beta(s).

Don't know my college schedule/workload yet, so no ideas about how often I could post/update at the moment.

I likely won't be able to post anything until I have access to a computer at the college (presumably in August, sorry about that), because the closest thing I have to an unmonitored/unrestricted device at "home" is my outdated Kindle Fire tablet (where the secondary browser I downloaded to hide reading fics sometimes likes to crash every few minutes).

If you've read past all of that and are still interested in my possible future writings, here are the possible options for what I could actually post:

Azure Fingerprints: Title of a possible series based off of this idea (batman and megamind crossover). > (Time travelers have realized that Bruce Wayne will always, without exception, base his crimefighting persona on the first thing... – @grandpuppyalpaca on Tumblr)

Featuring (so far): a delayed start to "Batman's" career, SuperBat friendship, Bruce's poor social skills, the not-yet-"Batcave" getting turned into a babyproofed nursery, and lots of fluff and crack and FEELINGS. Not sure if other parts of the series would be other longfics in that world, or just little snippets of stuff.

2. Anna Elizabeth Wayne (Actual Title TBD): My take on an Annabeth is Bruce Wayne's daughter fic.

Featuring (so far): Show!Annabeth (Leah Jeffries is phenomenal), Reverse Batkids AU (with a twist or so), an Athena characterization based on Circe by Madeline Miller, GoodDad!Bruce, multiverse stuff (only a little at the moment), Siblings Bonding Over Weird Childhoods, and So Much ANGST. This one is reallllly complicated, so it might be a series just so I can include one of those "explanation of the writer's AU" pages. Not as much of a plot as it is ANGST, small ideas for individual scenes, and general vibes right now.

3. The Adventures Of Lulu And Hatchling: probably the title of first fic (probably backstory stuff) in what would likely be a series. Crossover between ACOTAR universe and PJO/HOO (I am NOT ACTUALLY merging the two worlds). Basic background is that Annabeth's mortal family are the descendants of an illegitimate child from a kept mistress of Tamlin's father, and Annabeth is the first person to have powers from their bloodline. Baby Annabeth gets sent to grow up with Tamlin (Watsonian reasons would be explained in-story), but Lucien unofficially becomes her main caretaker. She spends seven years in the Spring court (pre-Amarantha even coming to Prythian), then is returned home in time for all PJO relevant events to occur. This would NOT be a Complete Re-Write Of PJO Canon.

Featuring (so far): Multiverse stuff, Annabeth w/fae powers, Book!Annabeth description so she can look like Tamlin (Leah Jeffries is still phenomenal, fight me), Lucien's gradually increasing blood pressure, Found Family Fluff, Lucien being a good father/uncle/older brother figure, Tamlin not being a complete alphahole in the beginning, Eventual Tamlin Bashing anyway, Ianthe Bashing (once she joins the story).

Definite intentions for later parts of the story: Powerful!Annabeth High Lady!Annabeth, Consort!Percy (he refuses to become High Lord, especially when he can just vibe and technically hold the official title of Least Politically Important Person At This Meeting), Tamlin's manor getting abandoned and Annabeth employing people to help build a new one that she designs, Inter-Court Meetings between all the courts becoming a Regular Thing (bc I want to put all the little dudes in a jar, shake them up, and study the results under a microscope), Inter-Court politics, gradually undermining the patriarchy, Inter-Court friendships, Beron taking psychic damage from the sheer audacity of---, Everyone Bonding Over Hating Beron, Positive Social Change, and Me Adding My Own Additional Lore To The World Of Prythian.

Optional fun fact! The base story could take multiple paths after TTC, so it would be the most likely fic to eventually make me write one or more AUs of itself, so here's later random details of the story that may or may not be added depending on which timeline I write: Tamlin dies, Tamlin gets locked up in his own house and told that Annabeth is willing to talk to him once he's "being more rational". Beron has a brain aneurysm in the middle of an Inter-Court Meeting and dies, Percy and Annabeth somehow creating a plan to get away with sending Beron off for the Hunters and Amazons to hunt him for sport, Amarantha kills Tamlin and is shortly killed by Annabeth before ACOTAR would have happened, Rhysand and Annabeth become Very Fast Friends and make fun of people together, and Doreen Green (Squirrel Girl) becomes Annabeth's spymaster bc that would just have so much comedic potential, fight me (she's honest about that being her job [if not explaining the details of how she does it] and she's just so open and friendly and polite that it has to be a hoax, right? there's no way she's actually in charge of collecting real intelligence. she has a network of squirrels who pass info to her across the entire continent? oh right, because of the tail, very funny. some of us are actually taking this seriously, Tarquin).

4. Lightning Rod, Grounding Wire: Approximate title for a crossover AU where Agatha Heterodyne (Girl Genius) and Hunter (The Owl House) end up swapping places right before Barry would have gotten Agatha (exact explanations undecided, maybe Belos let the Collector get too bored?) and about the same time Hunter was created (with Hunter being a couple years older than her biologically). Longfic? Series? Who knows, not me(yet).

In the Boiling Isles: Agatha is initially raised by Belos in something a bit similar to the get in loser we're assassinating the emperor - elliptical - The Owl House (Cartoon) [Archive of Our Own] AU, but it's Agatha (Spark, Heterodyne, etc.) so she gets on the wrong side of the empire way quicker. I'm thinking that she wouldn't make it more than a couple years after her breakthrough (w/o Uncle Barry to build her locket) before she starts spouting Extremely Logical Treason in meetings. Mostly, Canon occurs but minus Hunter (I'm going off the theory that Belos had to reuse the same galderstone for each grimwalker, so in this he's permanently down one(1) clone child soldier) and with way more explosions.

Meanwhile, over in Europa: Barry quickly deduces that this Very Small Child isn't Bill and Lucrezia's, is definitely some kind of construct, and is likely part of some kind of plot by Lucrezia (the man's stressed, and 2ish out of 3 ain't bad). Barry's not the kind of spark who'll try to vivisect or euthanize the kid just to stop Lucrezia, so his best bet is hiding him away from the world. Hunter grows up considering himself a construct, in time gets left with the "Clays", and lives a somewhat less stressful life than Agatha would have pre-canon. Everything goes passably well for him until the first events of "The Beetleburg Clank".

Featuring (so far): The rapidly increasing blood pressure of Every Adult in this situation, young Agatha being a feral gremlin, Hunter actually having a childhood, if Eda had a a nickel for every time a semi-feral teenage girl built an interdimensional portal in her back yard she'd have two nickels, SO MANY mistaken identity shenanigans after Agatha and Hunter actually meet, eventual Huntlow and Agatha/Gil/Tarvek OT3, and Eda menacing All The Sparks.

Now that I'm thinking about it, the only one of these that wouldn't need an explanation page is number one.

I do have more ideas on all four of these (as well as other vague ideas still calibrating), but this post is pretty long so I'd need a request from someone before I give more info.

Please comment/reblog/@ me with your thoughts!

For future reference, my Ao3 account is:

Update: Okay guys, I tried to edit one of the words in the title of the poll and it wouldn't let me do that so I just remade the poll but forgot to set the length to one week. If you're still interested in voting, there's another poll pinned on my blog, or you can just comment what you're interested. Even after the polls end, I will be officially taking thoughts/questions/feedback up until August.

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