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#i'm turning over stones like 'surely the excited fandom is hiding here' and then it's 3 bugs with an anti-izzy pamphlet
ladyluscinia · 5 months
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I know my last experience with a season ending on a note everyone hated and unanimously tore to fucking shreds for destroying the story on every level was... atypical. Lockdown. 6 month mass hysteria at minimum. Conspiracy theories that were, like, real things we had on camera. There was a Twitter wedding. Creative fervor that broke 100k fics on AO3.
Like. I know this is not a rational point of comparison and I'm not going to expect anything in my lifetime to match it 🤣
But.
If that was the highest high of post-season fandom engagement built on a cocktail of tasting everything you ever wanted AND the absolutely lethal levels of spite and swearing to eat showrunners' hearts in the marketplace, then whatever the fuck is going on after OFMD S2 is the opposite of that.
OFMD S1 was a huge fandom explosion. One silly little streaming show that had a gay kiss and then it skyrocketed. Fic numbers were soaring, high activity fic and meta engagement lasted for at least four months, it was constantly trending and flooding the dash... Like, fucking hell, over a year and a half after the immediate finale fervor it beat Stucky in the top ships bracket?!? To the point I was willing to give it what felt like due credit toward its potential as a future juggernaut ship. Not guaranteed, of course, but the potential was there.
In that context, new content should be a blow out party. Which it kinda was pulling off as it was airing, but looking back now? Not even quite a month later?
The effect of S2 on the fandom is like... a blip. Possibly over already.
New fic numbers started dropping off the moment the finale aired and have returned to deep hiatus levels. It's dropped off trending and streaming leaderboards... I'm very curious to see the first tumblr Week in Review since the finale, though we're still waiting due to the holiday.
Like, I've even popped on to scroll a few Izzy hater blogs that I know loved the finale out of morbid curiosity what they were up to, and I'm telling you... if I hadn't just watched the new season I'd think they were still over a year into hiatus. Saw some standard bitching about the izcourse / Edward takes (aka the one thing that kept them going all hiatus), they're currently passing around posts mocking one specific long OFMD version of TJLC I'm just hearing of, the same BTS gifsets everyone else is thrilled by... But barely any new meta or discussions. There's like 2 people posting actual analysis of S2 that's getting reblogged and they aren't even names I recognize from the hiatus. Nor is it particularly interesting to read. 🤷‍♀️
In July of 2022 I could pop onto a random OFMD blog and scroll through a dozen enthusiastic Stede or BlackBonnet metas about jacket colors or that moth from 1x07 or lighthouse symbolism or whatever. Now the new stuff has the same energy as posts from June 2023. It's borderline dead. And this is what it's like when there's an active campaign to engage fandom and Renew as a Crew?
(I will say fanartists are bringing some energy and there's some lovely pieces being passed around, which I do think the Renew as a Crew campaign is helping to boost?)
Even the hundreds of people saying it was a beautiful season and they loved it so much don't seem to be finding it a very engaging or inspiring season.
It's such a turn, like, what the fuck.
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c-e-d-dreamer · 9 months
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But I'm Only Looking At You: Part One
A/N: It's officially here! Happy @cassianappreciationweek lovelies! I'm super excited to see all the amazing content that everyone will be sharing this week, and I'm extra excited to share this fic with you all. We may be stretching the prompts with this, but doesn't that make it more fun! I mean, Rhys visits Cassian in this first chapter, so doesn't that fit the Brother theme? Maybe? A very big shout-out to @separatist-apologist who so graciously gave me this prompt. This fic is dedicated especially to you, fandom-sanctioned bestie! :)
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Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Next Part
Don’t say yes, run away now. I’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door
Three Years Ago
Cassian’s eyes flit across the grass that stretches out across the meadow. The tall, green stalks sway gently in the early summer breeze, twisting and twining together like dancers moving to the melody of the wind. Purple and white wildflowers bloom in small batches, a burst of color against the blue sky overhead. A willow tree stands tall and proud beside the small creek that burbles and weaves its way around the dirt and stones, and sitting beneath it, half hidden by the drooping branches, is Nesta.
Just where he expects to find her.
He takes a moment to admire her, the sight already stealing the breath straight from his lungs, already pulling a soft smile across his face. She has her knees curled up toward her chest, a book balanced perfectly on her knees, her head bowed over the pages as she devours the words. The rays of sunlight that break through the leaves and branches of the willow cut across her in golden streaks. It leaves the braid of her hair looking like a true crown of burnished gold, and Cassian knows once he gets closer, he’ll be able to count every faint freckle that’s sunkissed across her skin too.
It’s on quiet feet that Cassian makes his way over to her, using the sounds of the water to his advantage as he follows along the creek until he reaches the willow. He curls around the trunk of the tree until he can peer down over Nesta’s shoulder, until he can watch her deft fingers turn yet another page in her book.
“Hello, Nes.”
Cassian is slightly disappointed when Nesta doesn’t jump at his voice, but when she lets out a long sigh, his smile grows wide again. He steps around and settles in the spot beside her, daring to sit close enough that his shoulder brushes against hers. Nesta doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even bother looking up from her book, but Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips are slightly pinched.
In the years that he’s known Nesta Archeron, he’s learnt every one of her expressions, every look, every tell. He’s categorized them all and tucked them close to his heart. The long withering sigh to hide a soft, amused laugh. The pinched lips to keep away the fond smile. The way those blue gray eyes of hers will blaze and narrow at him until his heart is skipping over itself in excitement.
“Enjoying the warm weather?” Cassian asks innocently, reaching forward and tugging one of the wildflowers free from the ground.
“I was enjoying the peace and quiet,” Nesta shoots back, and though Cassian can’t quite see her face from his spot beside her, he’s sure she’s rolling her eyes at him.
“Well, then, don’t let me disturb that,” Cassian tells her, neatly tucking the flower into the braid of her hair.
“Oh, believe me. I don’t intend to.”
Cassian has to bite back a smirk at the remark. Nesta always has to have the last word. He stretches his hands back behind his head, leaning against the trunk of the willow and letting his eyes flutter shut. He counts the second in his mind, already feeling Nesta’s annoyance growing with each passing second of silence. His blood practically sings in anticipation, leaping at the chance for another round of their game.
Nesta snaps her book closed loudly. “What do you want, Cassian?”
“Can’t I just enjoy your company?”
“Last time I checked, the only thing you enjoy is the sound of your own voice.”
Cassian chuckles, but he sits up properly again. “I had my final lessons today. My boarding school days are officially behind me.”
Nesta finally turns to look at him properly, and she leaves Cassian feeling as breathless as she did the first time he met her. She’s so damned beautiful, and Cassian is so enraptured that he almost misses what she says next.
“And have you decided on Cambridge or Oxford?”
Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, dropping his gaze to his hands before he explains, “neither. My father has fallen ill, and now that I’ve finished my schooling, I’ll be returning home to learn the trade and prepare to take over for him.”
“I see.”
Cassian looks up at her again, his eyes tracking the flower that still sits in her braid. The softness to her blue eyes that he swears only he gets to see. Those constellations of pale freckles that he knows must be echoed across her skin elsewhere. A strand of hair has fallen free from her updo, tumbling down along her temple, and Cassian’s fingers twitch with the urge to brush it aside.
One day. One day, he’ll be able to, he’s sure of it. He swears it. One day, he’ll have fully taken over the family business, will have made a name for himself, and he’ll speak to her father and finally ask the question that burns on the tip of his tongue.
“You’ll write to me, won’t you?” Cassian asks instead.
Nesta lets out another long sigh. “And what if I don’t wish to write to you?”
“I’ll just have to write to you then. I’m sure you’ll miss our witty repartee.”
“I assure you that is not what I will miss.”
Cassian smirks, daring to ask, “my handsome face, then?”
“You are quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” Nesta snaps, clambering up to her feet.
Cassian jumps to his feet as well. He catches Nesta’s hand before she can walk too far, stopping her steps. Her eyes snap down to the contact, fingers flexing for just a moment, a pretty dusting of pink spilling across her cheeks.
“Promise you’ll write, Nes,” Cassian requests, his voice quiet.
He’s not above begging, would drop to his knees right there in the meadow for anything she’s willing to give him. His fingers slide along her wrist where her hand is still clasped in his, and he swears he can feel her heart fluttering away beneath that touch. He wonders if she knows the way she holds his.
“I promise.”
~ * * * ~
Today
Cassian rushes down the main staircase of his home just as Mrs Reynolds closes the front door with a soft snick. His heart pounds away between his ribs, pressing a lump up into his throat, but he uses all his willpower not to let his nerves show. He clenches his hands tightly into fists and plasters on his best, easy smile as Mrs Reynolds turns back around, not a lick of surprise on her face when she sees Cassian waiting eagerly.
“Any letter today?” Cassian asks, praying the desperation licking through his veins doesn’t bleed into his tone.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mrs Reynolds apologizes, sympathy lining her brown eyes. “Nothing today again.”
Cassian nods, not even bothering to try and push words out. He beelines for the kitchen, quickly grabbing some food before locking himself away in his office. He falls heavily into his chair, letting out a long breath. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers getting caught in the tangled strands which only adds to the dark storm cloud brewing in his chest. He feels stupid, but there’s no stopping the way his heart twists and squeezes, betraying the emotions he’s trying desperately to shove back down.
Even worse, he can’t seem to shut up that voice that claws its way through the back of his mind. It digs in and won’t let up, dark whispers feeding into Cassian’s every insecurity. He still remembers every word, every name, he heard back when he was in boarding school, from the boys, from their mothers. It didn’t matter that his family had money, didn’t matter that his father had made a name for them, didn’t matter the factories they had and everything they produced. He would always be looked down upon by all that old money of London.
With another sigh, Cassian finally shakes himself and pulls his papers close to him, determined to get some work done and take his mind off those swirling thoughts and swirling emotions. He scratches out a reply to one of his suppliers, but as soon as Cassian has signed his name, his hand pauses, grip tightening on his pen.
His gaze dances down to the bottom drawer of his desk. Taunting him. Beckoning him.
He shakes his head and goes back to writing out another response, but he barely makes it halfway through before once again his eyes are drawn to that damned drawer. Cassian lets out a groan and tosses his pen aside. He yanks open the drawer and pulls out the letters stacked neatly inside.
Just as he’s done for the past few weeks, he pulls out the most recent one, dated a month ago. He traces over the lines and loops of the ink on the page, smiling as he once again reads Nesta’s story about her sisters. He tries to find some hint, some clue, to understand Nesta’s sudden silence, the lack of a letter since his last reply, and yet he can’t find one. The letter reads just the same as all the ones she’s been sending since he left London.
A knock at his office door finally pulls Cassian away from Nesta’s letters. He looks up, ready to call out to Mrs Reynolds that he doesn’t need anything, but before he can, the door is opening. Cassian blinks a few times in surprise, his brow furrowing.
“Rhys? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Really?” Rhys teases, stepping fully into the office and settling easily into one of the chairs opposite Cassian with all the casual grace of a Duke. “That’s how you greet me?”
“It’s not that I’m not happy to see you,” Cassian chuckles slightly. “It’s just unlike you to travel all this way. What could have possibly pulled you away from London? And without a letter informing me either.”
“I can’t simply want to come visit one of my closest friends?”
“Rhys.”
Rhys lets out a soft sigh, shifting in his seat. The serious look that takes over his face has Cassian’s stomach dropping. There’s been only a very few instances that Cassian has seen that expression on his friend’s face, and none of those times ended well.
“It didn’t feel right putting this in a letter,” Rhys begins, leaning forward and meeting Cassian’s gaze head on. “I’ve known you since we were kids in school together, and you know I see you and Az like brothers.”
“You’re starting to worry me, Rhys.”
“I care about you, Cass. And I know you. I know how you feel about Nesta Archeron, how you’ve felt about her for years, so I want you to hear it from me… she’s engaged now.”
For a moment, Cassian swears the world stops tilting beneath his feet. Everything comes lurching to a hard and painful stop, throwing him off balance and sending him spiraling down and down. There’s a ringing that takes up home in Cassian’s ears, a lump pressing into his windpipe until he feels like he can’t breathe.
“What?” Cassian chokes out, his voice barely above a whisper.
Everything he had ever built up in his mind shatters right there, right before his very eyes. The way he imagined finally going back to London this summer, courting Nesta properly and the way she deserves outside his letters. The way he planned to speak with her father to officially ask for her hand. The way he could perfectly picture Nesta here, in this house, with him.
“I’m sorry,” Rhys continues, offering a sympathetic grimace. “It was only just announced, and I had no idea she was being courted, or I would have told you sooner.”
“I guess that explains why her letters stopped,” Cassian grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. “So, who’s the lucky gentleman?”
“Tomas Mandray.”
The humorless laugh tears free from Cassian before he can stop it. “That prick we went to school with? And Nesta agreed to his proposal?”
“Her father did. Tomas is a Viscount following his own father’s passing.”
“I’m sure no one misses him. We all knew what type of man he was.”
“Rumor has it Tomas is the same.”
That comment has Cassian’s fists clenching, anger beginning to simmer just beneath his skin. Everything within him rebels at that idea, at Nesta being subjected to someone like the fucking Mandrays. His own soul seems to snarl and growl in agreement, instincts screaming at him to do something, to stop this, to protect her.
Cassian stands up and starts gathering all of the papers and things he’ll need to spend time away in London. “Have they already started reading the Banns?”
“Tomas has apparently put in for a Bishop’s License instead,” Rhys explains, eyeing Cassian with narrowed eyes as he moves around the office. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”
“How do you feel about a party?”
~ * * * ~
The music of the string quartet stationed in the corner wafts through the ballroom, the light, lilting melody swirling amongst the sea of bodies in the room, around the crystal chandelier hanging high above their heads. It seems all of London’s best has come out to Velaris estate, all dripping in the latest fashion and practically clamoring for some gossip as much as excitement.
The newest ladies to be out in society and their mothers circle around the ballroom like sharks on the hunt, some even daring to eye up Cassian where he stands, but he only has attention for one woman tonight. His gaze sweeps across the room until he spies her, standing with her youngest sister, Feyre.
She still takes his breath away just as much as the last time he saw her, as the first day he met her. Her hair is styled in her usual braided crown, not a strand or pin out of place, but the golden brown color still glints beneath the chandelier’s lights. Her dress is a deep green color, a shade that contrasts well with her eyes, and there’s the faintest hint of rouge on her cheeks, drawing attention to the cut of her cheekbones.
Cassian has to swallow hard as he watches her across the room. His heart thunders away in his chest, and he can feel the way it wants to lurch right into her waiting hands, can feel the tug right between his ribs drawing him into her. He quickly glances around, but there’s no sign of Tomas Mandray, so with a deep breath to try and calm his fraying nerves, Cassian strides across the ballroom to the only woman he’ll ever want.
“Hello, Nes.”
Nesta’s attention snaps to him at his greeting, her eyes widening for a moment before she schools her expression back into cool indifference. Imperceptibly, her spine straightens, her chin raising that small bit higher, almost in defiance, but Cassian catches it all. Another of her many looks that he’s cataloged, a refusal to back down.
“Cassian,” Nesta offers coolly, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “What are you doing here?”
“Rhysand and I are good friends, if you’ll recall. Are you that surprised he extended me an invitation?”
“You traveled all the way to London for a House Party?”
Cassian chuckles, not bothering to bite back his smirk. “What can I say, sweetheart? I love a good party.”
Cassian doesn’t miss the way her lips pinch slightly together, the flare that sparks through her blue eyes. A tell tale sign that she’s fondly annoyed with him. It has his grin growing, but just as soon as that expression graces her face, it shutters away. He can practically watch as she stacks every icy brick back into place, as the mask slides firmly back on.
“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening,” Nesta tells him, grabbing Feyre’s elbow and turning them both away.
He’s losing her. She’s going to walk away, vanish amongst the others in attendance, and Cassian knows he won’t see her again. This is his one chance before she slips through his fingers like smoke. His mind scrambles for something to say, something to keep her here, to keep her talking to him, to keep her eyes on him. His eyes land on her wrist.
“Your dance card,” Cassian blurts out before he clears his throat and finds his voice again. “I see your dance card is not yet full for the night.”
Nesta blinks a few times in surprise, glancing down to her own wrist. She tries to pull her arm out of reach, but Cassian is faster, fingers curling around the small booklet. He unfolds it carefully, scrawling his name along the first empty line he sees.
“I’m sure you don’t mind,” Cassian continues, releasing the booklet and daring to let his fingers brush against Nesta’s in the process. “It will give us a chance to catch up.”
“Nesta. Feyre. Where have you two been?”
The cool, clipped tone has Cassian finally tearing his gaze away from Nesta and meeting instead the strict and pinched expression of Eleanor Archeron. Cassian can’t say he’s ever been a big fan of the Archeron matriarch, especially with the way just her presence has Nesta’s spine straightening that inch more, has her fingers curling imperceptibly into the skirts of her dress.
The feeling is clearly mutual. Eleanor’s eyes sweep over Cassian’s frame with clear distaste, not even bothering to hide the way her lip curls. To her, he’s nothing more than a brute, but he refuses to let her ire get to him.
“Lady Archeron,” Cassian greets politely, dipping his chin in a bow.
She doesn’t show him the same courtesy, doesn’t even acknowledge that he said anything at all. Instead, the fingers of her hands curl around Nesta’s and Feyre’s elbows, and Eleanor leads her daughters away without so much as a backwards glance. Cassian can’t help but let out a quiet huff, shaking his head. At least, the night is still young.
At least, he still has his dance with Nesta to look forward to.
Though, it’s agonizing for Cassian to wait for his turn. Especially, since Nesta spends most of the dances partnered with fucking Tomas. It boils his blood watching the way Tomas’s fingers curl possessively into the fabric of Nesta’s dress, the way his hand sits dangerously low along her back, just toeing the line with what’s proper. Even worse is the Viscount’s expression, the knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk tugging up his lips. It’s all savage, male pride, and Cassian’s fists clench hard enough that his nails bite into the palm as Tomas twirls Nesta around the ballroom.
Nesta has always been the best damned thing that ever happened to Cassian. Those stormy, blue eyes had haunted his dreams from the moment they snapped to his gaze, burning with a fire that almost brought him to his knees right then and there. She never backed down from anything he threw at her, going toe to toe with him in a way that only served to further thrill and excite him, that always left him itching to go another round of their back and forth. He lived for every scoff, every eye roll, every haughty jab.
But even more so, he lived for every smile, every laugh he was able to draw out of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first time he ever made Nesta laugh, the way the air was stolen straight from his lungs at that light, melodic sound. He craved it like a starved man after that.
Craved her.
It was Nesta that drove Cassian to study as hard as he did at school, to devour every book and every lesson. Her that drove him to work as hard he did after his father passed, to build up the factories and his family name. To build up himself into the type of man, the type of gentleman, that deserved her.
Unlike Tomas Mandray.
Nesta is the best damned thing to happen to him too, and the bastard clearly doesn’t even realize it, doesn’t appreciate it. He certainly isn’t the type of man to deserve her.
The music of the string quartet comes to an end, and finally, Nesta and Tomas pull apart from one another, Nesta dipping into a polite curtsey. When she straightens again, her eyes scan around the room, landing right on Cassian. Just as it always does, his heart gives a longing pang deep in his chest, and he just hopes it’s not too noticeable on his face.
Rhys and Az have always teased him for the way he tends to wear his heart so plainly on his sleeve. And his chosen brothers have certainly teased him for the way he tends to become a fumbling idiot wherever and whenever Nesta Archeron is concerned. But he’s determined not to fuck it up this time. Determined not to fuck things with her up. This is his chance, and he prays it won’t be his last.
With slow, careful steps, Cassian makes his way across the dance floor of the ballroom, not taking his eyes off Nesta’s face for a moment. When he’s standing before her, he holds his hand out between them, palm up and waiting. Nesta slides her hands into his, and that one simple touch has sparks skating up Cassian’s arm. He gently curls his fingers around hers, relishing in the warmth and weight, in the rightness, of having her hand in his. His other hand slides along her waist to the small of her back, fingers flexing almost subconsciously. He swears he can hear Nesta’s breath hitching in her throat when he tugs her closer, but any sound is drowned out by the string quartet beginning the next song.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Cassian says as he begins to lead them through the steps of the dance with ease. “On your engagement.”
Nesta’s hand tightens minisculely in his, but she gives no other sign that his words have struck a chord, that mask of hers still firmly in place. “Yes. Thank you.”
“How curious that you never mentioned Tomas in any of your letters.” Cassian keeps his tone light, his comment almost idle, but knows he’s hit his mark from the way her mask starts to slip, the way a flame sparks within her eyes, her mouth pinching down in a frown. “So, tell me, what is it you love about him?”
“Excuse me?” Nesta asks, her steps stuttering for just a moment.
Cassian doesn’t let it deter him, continuing through the steps of the dance as he continues speaking. “The Nesta I remember used to swear that she’d only marry for love, just like the women in her books.”
“That was a fairytale.”
“So, you don’t love him then?”
“How dare you,” Nesta hisses, stopping her steps abruptly and stepping out of Cassian’s hold. “How dare you come back to London after all these years and think you know anything.”
Cassian steps closer again, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing anymore attention to them. “I know more than you think, sweetheart.”
“You know nothing.”
That fire is blazing in her gaze now, but before Cassian can say anything more, she turns on her heel, stalking away. Cassian is quick to follow her, not giving up that easily. He follows her out the large, french doors of the ballroom and onto the terrace. The moon shines bright and full in the sky above, wispy streaks of silver blanketing some of the stars. The floral scent of the gardens floats to them on the evening breeze, the strands of Nesta’s hair blowing gently around her face.
“I know nothing?” Cassian laughs humorlessly. “Fine. Correct me, then. Tell me how much you want this marriage with Tomas Mandray.”
“You should go home, Cassian. Go back to Glasgow.”
“Not until you look me in the eye and tell me this is what you want. Not your father. Not your mother. You.”
The request hangs in the air between them, each second of silence that ticks by stifling. The music from inside pours out through the opened french doors and onto the terrace, but all Cassian can hear is his own heart thundering away, the blood pounding in his ears. He tries to will Nesta to understand, to realize that all she needs to do is say the word, that he’d do anything for her. He’d burn the world and place the ashes at her feet if she asked him to. For a brief moment, an emotion that looks dangerously like grief passes across her face, but just as soon as it appears, it vanishes, that mask sealing back firmly in place.
“Go home, Cassian.”
Nesta brushes past Cassian and back into the party, leaving him standing there alone on the terrace. He turns to watch her go, to watch her melt into the moving bodies of those dancing and mingling about. As she vanishes out of sight, he wonders if she knows she’s taking his heart with her, bloodied and bruised and straight from his chest.
He turns back toward the gardens and leans his hands against the railing that borders the terrace, fingers curling against the stone as he tightens his grip. He closes his eyes as he lets out a stuttering breath, tipping his head up toward the sky as if the stars may provide the answers he’s looking for.
She never answered his question, never fulfilled his request to declare that Tomas was what she wanted, and Cassian doesn’t think he’ll ever get that moment, that brief flash of anguish marring her face, out of his mind. He’s sure he’ll see it every time he closes his eyes. And it’s with startling clarity that Cassian knows. He knows that there will never be anyone else for him. He knows that he’d go to the ends of the earth for Nesta.
He knows that he’s about to do something very, very stupid.
Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld​ @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @girl-of-many-floods
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myfearless-love · 3 years
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The Wildest Place You Run (1/?) - Better Safe Than Sorry
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It's finally here! My contribution to this year's CSSNS! This is my first time participating in this event and I couldn't be more excited to share my story with you! Recently I watched a lot of supernatural/fantasy TV shows on Netflix and so the concept of this fic was born. It has all kinds of creatures, mixed with adventure, drama, mystery, suspense, and of course, most importantly CAPTAIN SWAN.
Huge thank you to my beta and artist, @thejollyroger-writer for clearing up my mistakes and help me get this story to you. Check out what gorgeous art she made for the fic!! ☝️
I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Summary: Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Elves. For centuries, they kept their existence a secret, but the constant rebellions against the strict laws of the Guild had led to a terrible tragedy. In an open clash, it became apparent to humans just what kind of monsters lived among them. Emma Swan loses the love of her life in the first battle of the war. A few months later, while still trying to process what happened, a mysterious and terrifying figure worms his way into her life. But the man is hiding far more terrible secrets than he reveals to her, pulling them both into a horrible situation...
Chapters: 1/? - Better Safe Than Sorry
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Rating: M
Relationships: Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Read on: FF.net or AO3
Words: ~1.7k
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The cobbled streets of the city were dripping with rainwater, and the light from the tall lamps hung like balloons in the cool, misty night air. The harsh wind tore at the branches of the balding trees, a vast amount of withered yellow and brown leaves stirred up a path on the uninhabited sidewalk.
The weather had cooled down more than she’d expected. She pulled up the zipper of her red leather jacket and quickened her steps. She knew it would have been wise to get home on time, she was sure David was already working up an ulcer, marching up and down in the living room.
Somewhere nearby, the clock tower struck ten and she shuddered, accelerating her pace as the curfew had just taken effect. Her hand instinctively slid onto her bag where her Glock 19 lay safely.
She dug into the satchel, and the startled hammering of her heart subsided somewhat as her fingers touched the barrel of the gun. She very much hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. In this world, bandits and robbers were the least dangerous kind, as it was enough to just simply shoot them…
When she finally emerged from the cover of the trees in the park, she opened the heavy wrought-iron gate and hastily crossed the narrow street to continue on the main road. Her footsteps echoed emptily on the deserted avenue, not a soul in sight.
Her destination wasn’t far off, and she fought the urge to run the last few yards. She turned around the corner and into a narrow alley, rushing toward the last, albeit slightly shabby, apartment building.
At the front door, her nearly frozen fingers rummaged awkwardly for her keys in her pocket. But before she could slide the key in, she heard the click of the lock, the massive iron door slamming open with a bang.
As she had suspected, she found herself face to face with a seething David, who, for the moment, was still silent. She risked an angelic and rueful smile and quickly slipped into the house beside him.
All her hopes were dashed when the door crashed back into its frame behind her and David turned to her vigorously. He put both his hands on his hips, a move she found rather comical despite the situation - it reminded her of an agitated lunch lady before scolding a kid in the cafeteria. Still, she couldn’t laugh at it. At the sight of his flashing eyes, she squared her shoulders and waited.
Come what might.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
Her only brother never cursed unless he was furious.
“I was just taking a walk in the park,” she replied quietly, and by that time, all her humor was gone. David was right. What she had done was really stupid. “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept better track of time.”
“Didn’t you even notice it got dark in the meantime?” David grew angrier by the minute, and her face began to burn with shame.
She hated arguing with him, so when the opportunity arose, she tried to heed his advice. Today’s case was an exception. “I’m really sorry,” she muttered, lowering her gaze to the pave-stone.
After long seconds of no response from him, she looked up cautiously, only to see him disappear behind the door that led to their apartment.
“David!”
She took off her boots and rushed after him, but as soon as she caught up with him, she grimaced. In the living room, on a mahogany-carved coffee table, David’s nearly complete arsenal of weapons lay spread out. Pistols, knives, rifles, magazines…
“What happened?” She dropped her bag on the couch and walked over to her brother, who was lounging in front of the window.
“A pack of werewolves in the middle of town in broad daylight! That’s what happened!” he hissed between clenched teeth, he was still trembling with fury.
“In the city center?” she repeated, stunned. That was a new one. Plus, it was happening during the day? It was getting weirder and weirder.
David took a deep breath, but it didn’t help much. He was still too upset.
“What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Although, it wasn’t up to me. If Killian hadn’t intervened, I would've certainly kicked the bucket," he shrugged as if it was incidental.
"Jesus…" She reached for David's shoulder, but he pulled away.
"At least fifteen people died. We weren't fast enough."
"Stop it," she admonished him. She grabbed im vigorously by the shoulder, turned him to face her, and urged him to look her in the eye. "And tell me, how many people did you save? A hundred? Two hundred?"
He expelled an angry breath. His tousled, sandy blond hair almost resembled a crow's nest, and his five o'clock shadow made his handsome face look unkempt. His light blue eyes stared at her with mixed despair. Meanwhile, he involuntarily stroked the small scar on his jaw.
"David, for God's sake, you’re a Hunter. I understand it's a shitty feeling, but you can't mourn every single person you can't save."
"I know," he whispered hoarsely, finally raising his head, then he shook it slightly, staring up at the ceiling dotted with tiny cracks. Emma could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was just afraid something had happened to you. I was about to call Killian and the others to search for you."
"I understand and I'm really sorry. I’ll be in my room if we’re done here."
"Alright. I'm going to pack up my things then," he signaled with his head towards the pile of weapons adorning the table.
Emma nodded and picked up her bag, marching across the living room, and heading straight for her room. But before she could peel off her coat, someone outside their apartment started frantically knocking on the door.
"I'm coming!" David's voice was calm, but Emma could still see him securing his favorite rifle as he strode toward the entrance.
"David, open up! It's us!"
When she recognized Robin’s voice, her lips twisted into a relieved smile and she hurried to the front door as well.
"Hey, mate. Are you happy to see us?" Robin laughed at the troubled expression on David's face and the gun in his hands.
"Very funny." David pursed his lips, then stepped aside to let their friends in.
After Robin, Mary Margaret entered, followed by Ruby and Killian.
"We heard Emma had wandered away, so we thought we should sniff around town and look who we found!" Laughing, Ruby flicked playfully at Mary Margaret's back who grimaced as she walked away from the long-haired brunette.
Ruby wasn't exactly your average type of girl. She wore her waist-long chocolate brown hair in wild curls mixed with pink streaks. She invariably wore her favorite black leather garments: military boots, pants, and her signature black studded leather jacket. She looked like a rock star of the nineties.
"I need to make a call,” Mary Margaret said, nodding toward the kitchen, fishing her phone out of her pocket.
"Of course,” David nodded, kissed her on the cheek, and quietly closed the door once everyone was inside.
Robin, Ruby, Killian, and David took a seat in the living room while Emma joined Mary Margaret in the kitchen. Her friend walked over to the counter, unlocked her phone, but her fingers were trembling so badly that she was unable to dial.
“What’s wrong?” Emma anxiously stepped next to the brunette, who just shook her head violently, but her chalk-white face suggested the opposite.
“Didn’t David tell you?” she lifted her troubled hazel eyes to Emma. Her rain-soaked pixie-cut dark hair clung to her forehead, a stark contrast against her alabaster skin.
“What was he supposed to tell me?” she asked carefully.
“Leo was in that run-in with the wolves this afternoon, too. I just found out from Robin that he had to be taken to the hospital right after,” her voice trailed off and Emma could see her shaking.
“He’s probably fine,” she said firmly, trying to give her friend the hope she so often received from her.
“Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded profusely, then feeling ready, she grabbed the phone and made the call.
While Mary Margaret talked to the hospital receptionist, Emma walked over to the refrigerator and returned to the counter with an unopened orange juice in her hand. She snagged two glasses from the kitchen cabinet and filled them both almost to the brim while tactfully not eavesdropping on Mary Margaret’s conversation because judging by the few words she could pick up, she was already talking to her cousin.
And it was rude to listen in.
“So, how’s our little lion?” Robin entered the kitchen with a grin and plopped casually down on the chair at the dining table.
“Fine,” Mary Margaret replied, not even reacting to Robin’s mocking tone.
It remained an eternal mystery to Emma why they disliked each other so much, but as long as they behaved in a relatively civil manner when they were in the same room together, she didn’t particularly care.
“Anyway, we need to get going soon. Someone saw some of Vampires near the nightclub. So far, they haven’t done anything that would violate the Guild’s rules, but better safe than sorry. They ordered us to look around.”
“And what about the curfew?” Emma raised an eyebrow.
“Humans are stupid. They don’t take Mages seriously. A lot of people aren’t willing to accept the existence of Werewolves and Vampires, even after what happened…”
Robin fell silent at Emma’s expression. He coughed sheepishly, then ran his fingers through his rich brown hair. “I didn’t mean to… I apologize,” he muttered and walked out of the kitchen with his head down.
“Emma…” she felt Mary Margaret’s hand on her shoulder. “Neal wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to let him go…”
“I know… But… he shouldn’t have been the one to die…”
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rreader · 6 years
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Hi! I think i just read EVERYTHING you've written. And it is AMAZING, so, its ok if i submit a request? Maybe Soulmate!AU (with words) with Loki (bc i love my son) there is something strange with his words (i dunno what, omg) and he thinks that he don't have a soulmate and then, one day, after some bad things he is in a BAD mood, and he meets reader and shouts at them, but instead of being upset reader is just GRINNING SO WIDE, and then... fluff. Yeah. I'm bad with ideas x) Thank you!
Pairing: Loki x ReaderFandom: MCUWarnings: can’t lie to your soulmate!au ; a biiiiit smutty. tiny bit.
A/N: oh my god, I’m soooo glad you’re enjoying my stories my dear and I certainly hope that you like this one as well. I don’t know if I’d necessarily call it ‘fluff’, but I just thought a bit more steam would fit it a little better. don’t worry, it’s no actual smut, but I’m certainly hinting at it. (also, I wrote this before I saw Ragnarok, so this happens before the movie)
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                                                         *****
Midgard.
Hehad always despised this planet, still did and probably alwayswould.
Sowhy was he here? Why was he doing this to himself and not plottinghow to take over Asgard again?
Becausedespite of what he told himself, he didn’t want his brother to diejust yet and he certainly didn’t want anyone else to kill him if thatsomeone wasn’t himself, so here he was, on Midgard, getting ready forthe fight against Thanos.
“Loki!”speak of the devil. Thor approached him, already in his armor, “Getready for battle, brother. We’ve got a lead on one of the infinitystones.”
“Idon’t see why that concerns me? Ask one of your ‘friends’,” hesneered and continued reading, his legs propped up onto the coffeetable in front of him.
ButThor pushed them off with his own feet and snatched the book out of his hand.
“ButI want you by my side.”
Lokirolled his eyes and got up, his casual clothing turning into hisarmor.
“Fine.Congratulations, you’ve just robbed me of my relaxation day,” hewalked towards the door, a laughing Thor running after him.
                                      Contraxia,a few hours later
Thorand Loki were wandering through the cold, approaching one of TaneleerTivan’s hideouts, in hopes of finding the Reality Stone in there.
“Ah!Isn’t this lovely, brother? You, me and an Ice Planet. Just like oldtimes,” Thor laughed, walking a few steps ahead of him.
Lokionly grunted. He thought he hated Midgard, but Midgard was a paradisecompared to this shit hole.
Whydid Heimdall have to drop them off so far from the cave? Wasit too hard to just leave them at the entrance?
“Oh,by the way, Jane said yes!”
“Howmarvelous,” he had no clue what she said yes to, but right now, hedid not care.
“Itried to hide it from her. But you know how it is with your soulmate.Can’t lie to them,” Thor chuckled.
Loki,however, did not. He didn’t respond..
Hedid not know how any of it felt like. Everyone else seemed to havefound their soulmate. Unlike him. He kept telling himself that itdidn’t matter to him, but truth be told? It did. It seemed like theuniverse hated him. And in return, he decided to hate the universe.
“Don’tfret, brother,” Thor gave him a hard clap onto his back, “I’msure you’ll find your soulmate rather sooner than later.”
Hereally doubted that.
Nevertheless,they finally arrived at the hideout, carefully making their wayinside.
Oddlyenough, there were no guards at the entrance of the cave, neitheralong the path inside.
It’slike they all vanished all of a sudden.. left in a hurry.
“Theytold me this place would be filled with guards.”
“I’vealways told you that your human friends are imbeciles,” Loki’s moodonly got worse by the second. It seemed like Thor had dragged him outhere on this freezing planet for no reason at all. This place lookedlike someone had already been here and taken everything that lookedlike it was worth something.
Andwhen they finally arrived in the heart of the hideout, his suspicionwas confirmed.
“Let’slook around..,” Thor said, but couldn’t even take one step, beforethe cave was filled with shouts and the brothers were surrounded by, what looked like, scavengers. Or maybe bandits. Or both.. “Or not,”he added.
“Fools.Do you not know who we are?” Loki asked, readying his staff.
“Oh,on the contrary. We do,” you made your way through your people, allof them stepping aside to let you get in front of them, a smilegracing your lips, “Because we were the ones who tipped you off onthis place. Truth be told, I was hoping they’d send the wizard or the machine guy, but youtwo are even better,” you laughed and clapped once in excitement.
Thorglanced at Loki, who nodded.
Butyou weren’t as stupid as they thought you were. Before they couldstart attacking, an electrically charged net fell from the ceiling,leaving them stunned for now. 
“Getthem on the ship. I want to talk to them,” you ordered and walkedup ahead, letting your people do the hard work.
                                                 twohours later
“Well,well, good morning sleeping beauties,” you grinned and pulled up achair towards the brothers. They were sitting on chairs themselves,chains all around them. “Now, before either of you has any gloriousideas, let me inform you that these chains are electrically charged too. If you want to fall back asleep, go right ahead and try to freeyourselves. If you behave, I’ll let you live. I only have some questions.”
“Questions? That’s what this is about?”
“Yes, muscle man. Questions,” you turned your head towards Thor, “So answer them, or I’ll have to hurt you, understood?”
“Youthink you can threaten us? You’re just a beautiful woman withgorgeous eyes and seem to be incredibly talented, so I will not eventry to escape, because I want to stay a little longer with you,” hescreamed angrily. 
BothThor and you stared at him, Loki’s chest heaving up and down and thensuddenly, he held his breath when he realized what he just said.
Youstarted grinning and leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms infront of your chest.
“Now THAT’S what I call a plot twist.” you laughed.
“What?!”Loki’s eyes wandered from you to Thor, back to you. “What’shappening to me?!”
Youbit your lip, got up and crouched in front of him.
“Tellme how much you want to kill me.”
“Iwant to pin you against the wall and make you beg for mercy, when I’m inside you because of how good I make you feel. Then Iwant to hold you in my arms and fall asleep with you. Brother. Stopme,” he turned his head to Thor, his eyes pleading for help.
“You’re soulmates! This has to count for something, right?!” Thorimmediately used that to their advantage.
Butyou didn’t even really listen to him, you still stared into Loki’seyes and smiled at him.
Outof all the possible soulmates you could have had, it had to be anAsgardian god.
Well,at least it was interesting.
“Fine,”you bit your tongue and grinned again, nodding, “Forget the whole questioning shit. I’ll let you go,” you pressed thebutton that controlled the chains.
“I’mso glad my soulmate is as insane as I am,” Loki got up, hisshackles falling to the floor and a wicked grin on his face.
“Believeme, so am I.”
Asecond later, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed himhard, his own hands grabbing your waist and holding you tight.
“Uhm..forgive me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but.. could you release me aswell?”
Youboth turned your head towards Thor, who was still sitting in thatchair, completely bound to it. You sighed and were about to pick upthe remote for the chain controls, when Loki stopped you.
“Wait..”
“Loki!No!” Thor warned.
“Lethim sit here for a bit longer. He’ll still be here when we get back.”
“Loki!”Thor was now trying to get out of the chains himself, but they werestill charged, so every little move he made, sent shocks through hisbody.
Asthe God of Thunder, it shouldn’t bother him that much, but too muchenergy and it wasn’t pleasant anymore. He could barely control hispowers as it was, if he was to be charged with too much energy.. whoknew what would happen.
Youconsidered it for a moment and then nodded, matching your soulmate’swicked grin.
“Ilike the way you think, dear soulmate. Let’s get to know each othersome more, yes?” you grabbed his hands and pulled him towards yourbedroom on your ship.
“LOKI!GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!”
ButLoki was far too occupied to even care about his brother right now.
Hehad finally found his soulmate and damn, that you were.
Hecouldn’t have asked for a better one.
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