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vintagemulti · 4 months

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shards and splinters

parings: marc spector x reader , steven grant x reader

desc: apparently what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. now you’ve died and returned alive, perhaps it’s time to test that theory; or risk losing your life once and for all.

warnings: blood, angst, swearing, fighting, guns and gun violence, death descriptions, long as fuck, sex mentions i guess(? if you squint), hurt/comfort, gory i guess (jake🤷🏻‍♀️) writers note: idk how accurate these are bc i’ve been writing this on and off for years but cover all bases i guess xx

a/n: psa to pls reblog anyway she’s BAAAAAACKKK did you miss me ?? i missed youse … if there’s even a moonknight fandom anymore 🫣 i’m so sorry for the 2 years gone from the face of tumblr, i’ve quite honestly had two years from hell and insane writers block so. can anyone even remember this series?? idk maybe you should all reread the first parts 👀👀 anyways. there’ll be one more part to this (will it come this year? next? 2026? who knows…) bc i HATED my original ending and just had to change it. also sorry if this feels rushed or like it jumps around a lot, it’s been written over YEARS, but i’ve tried my best for continuity. also, i know there’s a lot missing in like fight scenes but they are BORING and i hate writing em so i’m not doing it. tried, got half way thru then didn’t touch this for 7 months so.. it’s no fight scene or no part at all. but my last part is pretty much done so hopefully it’ll be posted soon! ill let youse savour this for a while tho lol. on a real note thank you all SO much for all the love, even two years later. it means the world. all my love, all the time x

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the air felt different now. it was funny; you and marc had been apart hundreds, if not thousands of times, but he had never felt your absence. not like this. no, never like this. it was different now because he knew he could look for you everywhere and you would still be in that room, not breathing, not living.

he could see it all so clearly now. all of what? all of it. everything; life, your life, his life, where everything went wrong, what he should have done, should have said, how he could have saved you.

there was nothing you could have done, marc.

“that’s easy for you to say.” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “you’re not the one who was halfway through a fucking argument when harrow took her. and if you can remember, harrow took her because of me.”

steven sighed, and went quiet.

“i should’ve died on that fucking alter.”

marc said it over and over, like a prayer, to go back in time and pull the trigger. he was fuck knows where, it looked like the middle of the desert but marc didn’t care enough to question it.

he had walked out of that pyramid and kept on walking - for hours. the hot egyptian sun had began to set, casting a rosy hue on everything. the humidity make marc’s head ache.

steven had gone silent - a small hum of anger in the back of marc’s head. it usually would have surprised marc, for steven to be the angry one. but he wasn’t sure he would never feel surprised again.

are you going to wallow here forever?

marc looked up, low sun glinting in his eyes, making him squint. but he could tell exactly who it was - crescent staff in his peripheral.

“fuck off.”

khonshu laughed. that’s one way to talk to a god.

“fuck off.” he repeated.

and why should i, mortal? why should i listen to you?

“you did this.” it was stiff, cold, a definite statement. “you did this to us.”

khonshu groaned, moving to block the sun from marc’s eyes so he could see him properly. aren’t you going to question how i am here?

“no.”

perhaps you should.

marc could never cope with khonshu’s riddles. they had always infuriated him - never getting a straight answer. but this one, he could tolerate.

“fuck does that mean?” he was looking directly into khonshu’s eyes now - something he had readily avoided for years. “and don’t give me any of your goddamn riddles.”

if you must be so blunt, it would seem like osiris has taken a liking to your poor lady wife. hathor isn’t half fond of her, either. maybe you ought to go back to the pyramid, something tells me your needed.

and he was gone. disappeared with a gust of wind, leaving marc alone in the saharan sunset, shaking and still covered in his wife’s blood.

she’s alive?

“i-” marc looked around. “i don’t-”

his eyes slipped into the back of his head.

steven took a deep breath, swallowing hard. he set off in a run - towards the pyramid.

“this feels so fucking weird.”

you were pressed flat against the wall, peeking around every few seconds to make sure one of harrow’s followers wasn’t coming your way.

i must admit, it’s been a while since i’ve had an avatar.

you let out a breathy laugh. was that your first ever laugh since being revived? you supposed it must be. oh, you wished it was one of steven’s jokes you were laughing at instead.

you didn’t think you’d ever find one of his jokes unfunny again.

“where is he?”

it’s hard to tell. i can’t check, unless i’d like ammit to spot me.

humming, you looked around the corner once again, breath hitching when you saw a shadow come closer.

what made your breath stop completely, however, was the slow, melodic tapping of a cane, following every footstep the person took.

harrow was less than two feet away from you.

swallowing hard, you pushed yourself against the wall even harder, back cold against the concrete. you hoped - prayed with your newfound faith in osiris and his mercy - that harrow would turn back the other way, not hearing your thumping heart.

but your luck had ran out for this lifetime.

the tapping of the cane became louder, until you could see the tip of it in your peripheral, crunching glass finally becoming audible. he was about to come around the corner, and see you. you would be impossible to miss, even the bright red of your new outfit making you stand out.

it seemed like it was impossible to escape harrow, and the tapping of his cane. he had killed you once, what would stop him from doing it again?

apparently, a guardian angel. someone spoke, making harrow turn to look behind him.

this was your chance - to slip away and turn the opposite corner, escape harrow in your new life as you couldn’t in your last.

his voice made you flinch. cool, charming, low. like a snake - exactly like a snake, now you thought about it. the way he slid through life, from the bar all those years ago, to now, awakening a centuries old god, aiming to destroy the world.

you could slither away too, though.

still holding your breath, you sidestepped along the wall, making sure to watch your step over any lose stones, until the wall fell away behind you and led you into another corridor.

as soon as the light from the hall had faded, you let out your breath, hands coming to your forehead and rubbing your eyes.

we have to keep moving. ammit is almost ready to begin.

nodding - although it felt like your brain was rattling around your skull - you looked back up and saw hathor, still looking as beautiful as ever.

this hallway was much dimmer than the last. colder, too. it was like all the light had been blocked, the only thing keeping your vision was the small, fading candles lining the walls every meter or so.

perhaps it was your natural instinct, or a new given sense as an avatar, but you could tell - something wasn’t right. something in the air had shifted, on top of the hot, sticky, egyptian heat, there was something sinister.

your years as a mercenary had taught you to recognise something - blood in the air. and there was certainly blood in the air around you.

“what is harrow’s plan?”

he wants to judge people. through ammit, he believes he can rid the world of everyone bad, even if they aren’t already bad.

“so he’s playing god?” the corridor seemed to go on forever.

he would never admit it, but yes. and ammit is the perfect enabler for him, she’ll know exactly what he’s up to, but because he can give her her power back, she’ll play along.

you scoffed lightly. “harrow isn’t stupid either. he’ll know what she thinks.”

hathor shrugged, a few paces in front of you. only time will tell, my dear.

for a few minutes, the walk along the corridor was silent. the tap of your shoes echoed down the hall, breeze from your passing flickering the candles on the wall.

why did you marry him?

it stopped you in your tracks, hathor stopping too.

“what?”

marc. why did you marry him?

you stuttered for a moment, looking around as if someone would come and help you.

i don’t mean it in a rude way. i’m the goddess of love, it’s natural for me to want to know.

“well,” you paused for a moment and began walking again, slower this time. “we were young when we met, i was coming up for 18 and he was 19.”

and?

“and i knew what i had done to him.” you swallowed. “i felt fucking awful, i thought, maybe if i get to know the guy, and he’s not as much of an ass as everyone makes him out to be, it’ll make it easier for me to forgive myself.”

the corridor kept on, as if it were never ending.

“as you can tell, it didn’t work.”

he wasn’t as much of an asshole as everyone thought?

“no, he was,” you gave a dry smile. “it just so happened that assholes are my type, and i think he worked it out pretty quickly. so after only about two months of knowing each other, he asked me on a date. a real date. it was my first ever date too, god knows anton never took me out. but god, he was such a gentleman.

he picked me up, gave me flowers, wore a fucking tie. and he payed for everything, too. dinner at a four star restaurant, a movie, then out to a bar for drinks.

i knew i had fucked up when he kissed me that night.”

you regret it?

“not for a day. and that’s my mistake- i mean, i was supposed to hate him. i told myself i would hate him. so i wouldn’t feel bad about telling someone to kill him. i didn’t even know how he got out alive- he didn’t tell me about the khonshu shit until after we got married.

oh, our wedding,” you smiled again, a real one. “it was perfect. i was twenty one, marc was twenty three. we were so young. it was a small wedding, just some friends, neither of us invited our family. it was the best night of my life.

it was the night i met steven, too. i think the stress of the day must have triggered it. and that was it- there was marc, and there was steven.”

didn’t it take a while to get used to?

the corridor began to open up, getting slightly wider by the meter. still - there was no end to it in sight.

“it did and it didn’t. i knew for a while there was something happening to him, he would disappear, look confused all the time. i knew it was a matter of time until something changed. and then came steven, perfect steven.

he changed so much- it was like dating all over again. he was even more perfect than marc, stupid english accent included. but, naturally, abuthing that’s perfect must come to an end.”

hathor sighed. and it gave you the impression, just for a moment, that she already knew the whole story. that she was humouring you by letting you tell it. her sigh, sad and resigned, almost confirmed that she knew what was coming.

“the-” you stopped. your voice had broken, and your feet no longer moved. hathor continued for a few paces before looking back at you.

i understand, but if there’s any time you need to tell this, it’s now.

“you know?” you voiced your suspicions.

take into account which god i am, my dear. there is no one else i could chose, but you.

you swallowed. “what’s the point of talking about it if you already know?”

you have been born again. revived. would you like to carry this, this horrible vendetta against someone who has done nothing but love you, for the rest of your new life?

“no.”

then voice it. i can take this pain from you, if you only ask me too. i can help you.

you bit your tongue, looking down at your feet and kicking around a few of the loose rocks. hathor waited.

“the baby was supposed to be born just after my twenty-third birthday.”

a beat. hathor didn’t reply.

“but he didn’t live past twelve weeks.”

you looked back up at hathor, anxious for a reply. she didn’t give you one, only nodding.

“i don’t- i don’t know what i did. i was waiting until i could get a scan, tell marc, have it done properly, you know? but when i went to my appointment, i knew. she didn’t say anything, she just looked. then she left, got the doctor to come in.

he said that the baby had died, that they weren’t sure of the cause, but it was a boy. that my baby boy had died.”

tears threatened your eyes. never - never - had you spoken about this before. not even with marc.

“i went home, with a hatred in my heart. the next few days were the worst. i was grieving a child no one knew i even had. the blood was horrible, it hurt so badly. i told marc i was on my period. fuck, for all he knew i was.

and then my baby was gone. and i hated marc.”

why did you hate him?

you shrugged. “i have no idea. i needed someone to blame and marc was the easiest. that’s when it all went downhill, you know? i wanted him to be there for me, for something he didn’t even know happened. and when he wasn’t, i blew up at him. and he blew up at me.

and that was it, for three years. this horrible hatred towards each other, me hating marc for something he knew nothing about, and marc hating me for every other reason.

he hated me the most for making him stay a mercenary. he wanted out, he wanted a normal life in the suburbs with a dog and a big house and maybe, one day, a child.

but i can’t have that. i don’t want that kind of normal - not when i was so close to it and lost it. so i pushed him into this world. i made him take jobs and work himself to death, even when i found out about khonshu. i made him do it.

and that’s why we’re here. because i told him to follow khonshu here. and now look what i’ve done.”

hathor took two, wide steps towards you, and cradled your face in her hands.

you have done nothing that makes you inhumane. none of this mess is you fault. khonshu would have gotten marc here one way or another. anyone in your shoes would be the same.

her hands were warm. you felt a tear fall, running underneath her fingers. “but i’ve been so horrible. i’m a monster - if not for this, for everything else.”

hathor shook her head. you are a human being.

there was silence as you cried and hathor wiped your tears. at least two minutes passed - but it didn’t matter to you. harrow could come running around the corner and you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

hathor took a deep breath, looking to her left along the corridor. she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, another figure appeared.

is now a bad time, human?

you flinched at the rough edge in khonshu’s voice. “what do you want?”

what do i want? there’s a long list.

even through your tears, your patience thinned. “seriously?”

hathor took her hands from your face, turning to look at khonshu. enough of your riddles. just tell her.

the unmistakable sound of footsteps, running, drew your attention. they were getting closer.

i don’t think i have to say a word, actually.

just as khonshu had finished, a figure appeared, coming around the twists and turns of the corridor.

your heart stopped.

marc looked around in a daze, eyes falling first on khonshu, then on hathor, then…

“y/n!”

just as he had stopped running, he started again, coming towards you like a lion out of his cage, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off of your feet.

“oh baby,” he mumbled into your neck.

you had just reached - wrapping your arms around him in equal tightness, hands flying into his hair. oh, god. his hair - his curls, his skin - you’d never take it for granted again.

he pulled back, hands on your cheeks in a mirror image to hathor. his eyes locked into yours, brown irises melting into his pupils, filling with tears.

marc stuttered, trying to get several sentences out at once, before you hushed him.

“please, marc, we don’t have much time. harrow is gonna-”

“i know,” he nodded, eyes still not breaking from yours. “i know- baby, i know. please- please, just give me a minute. i never- i thought i’d never- oh, baby.”

he leaned in, moving his hands out of the way to rest his forehead against yours. he was hot - sticky with sweat and dirt and, although you didnt want to think about it, your blood.

“i know,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “marc, i know.”

barely having finished your sentence, he leaned in and kissed you.

it was like the first kiss all over again, and you supposed it was. hot, needy, passionate, desperate. you could live in this moment.

but the unmistakable sound of khonshu clearing his throat broke your kiss.

if you wouldn’t mind, harrow is about to release ammit. i’m sure your couples catch-up can wait another hour.

“yeah,” you nodded, breaking away, but marc was far more hesitant to let go.

“i can’t-” he looked around, paranoid. “i can’t do this, y/n. i just lost you, i can’t run the risk of losing you again, i’ve never- y/n, i can’t let you go, you’re everything to me, and if harrow- oh god, what did harrow do to you? i swear to god, the minute i see him, i’m gonna-”

he blinked. a beat.

“paranoid git never did know when to be quiet, did he?”

“oh, steven,” you threw your arms around him again. “fucking hell.”

steven, unlike marc, seemed far more willing to let you go. “love, i know, but if we don’t go now, we’re all gonna end up dead. please, we can do this all after, yeah?”

he took your hands in his, stilling your shaking fingers. he was so warm - always so warm.

“okay,” you nodded, looking between him and the gods beside you. “okay.”

you had severely underestimated how far harrow was willing to go. it had been what felt like hours, an unrelenting fight. you weren’t even sure when layla showed up, hoping to help you in any way she could.

but her attempts were futile; ammit was huge. really - huge, bigger than the pyramid behind her. khonshu had, as usual, gotten involved too, so that meant he was the same size, almost trampling you with every step he took.

you had tried. really, you had. you’d tried to use your new found avatar abilities to at least land something on harrow, but truth be told, you were failing. he’d hit you far more times that you’d even aimed for him, you were covered in cuts and rapidly forming bruises, you were sure your shoulder was dislocated.

but worst of all? your head wasn’t right. you weren’t sure what was wrong with it - it seemed fine every time you focused on identifying the issue, but every time you weren’t paying attention, it was there again. dizzy, a ringing in your eyes, everything a second or two behind; your vision lagging and cloudy. but just as you’d notice it, it was gone.

it was getting worse, too. you could see marc out of the corner of your eye; he was one to one with harrow. it would have made you anxious if you could properly focus on what was going on. but you couldn’t - your thought were scattered, a ringing back tenfold in your ears, the world had gone distant and hazy.

the doctors told you it was a concussion the next morning. layla had actually came in very handy, able to translate the man’s arabic into english for you.

he had told you that you’d sustained a massive head injury - you figured it would have been investigated, if you hadn’t been one of the people there last night.

‘there’ was all people could talk about. first the sky had gone backwards (you’d missed that part, thanks to being dead), then, out of nowhere, two ancient egyptian gods had appeared, destroying all the buildings in their wake, pyramids too.

it wasn’t that you couldn’t remember it. you could - it was clear in every aspect. it just didn’t feel like you’d been there at all. even the build up to it, every moment from when you’d stepped out of that pyramid, hand in hand with steven, hot air hitting your face;

it wasn’t you.

well, obviously it was you. but it wasn’t the same you. everything felt different, you didn’t have the same emotions you did before. the same key ones, yes, like how you felt about marc, and steven, and who you are as a person, but basic thing, like fear, and compassion? it was gone.

you’d have voiced this to a doctor if you could put ‘i died and got brought back to like by an ancient god, but not the same one who destroyed half of your city last night, sorry about that, by the way’ into layman’s terms.

trauma induced dissociation was enough of a label for you. it fit - everything just felt a little hazy, was all. not that you’d asked your doctor, a google search (excluding the resurrection part) had taken you to pages and pages about dissociation and how it’s normal to feel it after a traumatic event. you were pretty sure dying was a traumatic event.

and yes, you could bring it up to your doctor, he was payed to help you, after all. but there was a strange gnawing in the back of your head: that if you voiced this feeling, it would only get worse, and the happy ending you and your husband currently had would be shred in two because you couldn’t feel properly.

so instead, you listened to his professional diagnosis; a severe concussion, fractured rib, dislocated shoulder, several cosmetic wounds, and mental trauma that would be discovered at a later point, if you ever got around to voicing it to a doctor.

what a lovely shopping list, you thought.

it was three days before they let you out, and marc wasn’t getting out for another two after that. you’d had to beg him to even go to the hospital in the first place, but now he was getting the medical attention he’d needed for years, he seemed content in his hospital bed. not that he’d ever admit it.

with two days to yourself (not nights, you’d go back to the hospital and stay with marc), you decided to have the egyptian holiday you had come for.

the first stop was obvious; buy clothes. all of the ones you had were either covered in blood or halfway shredded. once you’d achieved this, in a new white linen sundress (cut below the knees to hide the still raw scars), you felt just slightly lost.

of course, you weren’t lost, you were always quick to get your bearings in new places - mercenary years had left you with a few skills, after all - and you kept yourself in a fairly small area, close to the hospital in case you got an emergency call.

no - the feeling of being lost came from deep down. ever since you’d come back to life it was the same, a strange longing for something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. something you felt you just had to have, maybe not right now, but in the near future. the hazy feeling had already begun to pass, you were sure google had served you well. but it left behind this in its wake, a new, even stranger feeling.

a breeze blew your hair lightly as you looked down the street in front of you. it was picturesque, all kinds of small shops and cafes as far as you could see. you could hear kids playing somewhere, a baby crying in the distance.

the lost-longing feeling piqued at this.

“oh.” you breathed. “oh.”

beside you, hathor, dressed in a golden, floor length dress and looking beautiful as ever, laughed.

oh, indeed. did you forget which god i am?

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year

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Twisted fate

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (eventually)

Summary: After the death of her sister, the twin of Daenerys meddles with magic, trying to change the past and ends up in the era of the Dance as Rhaenyra's daughter...

Warnings: this is like a note for the idea of a series (so basically a teaser) 🤷🏻‍♀️, canon-typical stuff, Reader is on a mission, fix it fic?, it's probably a mess as I am... writing at 1-2am with no idea where I wanna go with this

You were born after the storm... for the first time. While your twin was called Stormborn, you were given the not-so-catchy name of the Flame of Dawn after the red skies that could be seen at the time you had drawn your first breath.

Life was difficult for your sister, it seemed she had to bear all the burdens but you were always eager to learn. Dragons and Valyria being your favourite subjects but as soon as you were free to do so, you started to learn other things too. Your knowledge came useful when the dragons were born but flying them was seemingly not meant for you. You found solace in fighting and learning to use the magic in your blood.

After the war you asked Bran to teach you to see. First, it was just curiosity, as you wanted.. no, needed to see history with your own eyes. However, you soon found out that you can connect and perhaps shape the past through your visions. Bran warned you against it but you didn't listen.

You became obsessed with fixing the events that lead to the demise of your house and family. You have spent a lot of time observing, especially the Dance of the Dragons. Those events were the true end for the House of the Dragon, however, you wanted even more than they had and ventured back to Aegon then tried to see what you were most curious about. Valyria.

As you went further back, you found that some members of your family had stronger magic and could sense your presence. Although none like the dragonlord you came across in your first glimpse of your ancient home.

He lectured you and punished you by trapping you in the past.

You were born during the storm... for the second time.

Your memories of your old life surfaced as you re-learned things. It was a struggle until your adult years, keeping them. The memories and your old self came and went like waves of the ocean your not-blood-related father loved so much.

It didn't take long to realise you were not your father's daughter and that your mother's uncle, who mostly stayed at Driftmark but spent a lot of time with you whenever he could, was the one who fathered you.

When you could surface from the waters of oblivion, you were even prouder than otherwise. As a child, in both lifetimes, you idolized Daemon.

You were still a small child when your memories surfaced for a while, and you started to make plans to somehow avoid the Dance and make your new parents king and queen. In the gardens, you discovered a poisonous flower and decided to eliminate one major key for the war to come. Killing off all your villains was tempting, however, there were several problems with that idea.

You knew that would be too suspicious, even f no one would suspect a child. But for one cleverly timed murder, the innocent look of your current form would be a perfect disguise.

It was also the time your realised Rhaenyra having your Strong brothers was putting everything at risk and you had no good solution for that mess either.

The plan was to destroy the Greens but as you grow the memories of your past life become more like dreams than your reality and slowly, and ironically when they finally seem to settle for good, they don't feel like yours anymore. Of course, it's useful to know all that but you have a different life and you've become a different person too, loving people in this life and fearing losing them.

And that's the problem with the plan. You can't lose them. You can't lose him. Aemond, the only person in your childhood who understood you, besides your father of course. And even after the loss of his eye, and becoming distant, your uncle remained your best friend, who you couldn't give up on, hurt or even betray.

His sister was certainly not to blame for anything and you were fond of her too. After getting to know the Green Queen, you couldn't even blame her at times.

So, you put yourself in an even more difficult position, abandoning the plan and trying to make peace between these idiots of yours.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen #my stuff #my fics

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athelyna-silverspell · 1 month

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Opinions No One Asked For™️: Palia NPC Edition

Auni: I love this kid. I want him to think of me as a cool older sister or cool aunt. I bring him bugs every chance I get

Ashura: I want him to be my dad. Genuinely love him. Serious contender to be my Shepp

Badruu: He really turned the puns up to 11. I love him. Also want him to be my dad. And possibly my Shepp

Caleri: I wasn't too sure about her, but after getting to know her, I feel like we have quite a few similarities. Definitely want to be her friend. Could she be my Shepp? 👀

Chayne: I find him so calming. He also feels dad-like to me. 100% want him as a support figure/father figure regardless of who I choose as my Shepp

Delaila: Love talking to her. Really want to get to know her better at this point (but 100% want her to win all the prizes at farmers markets/festivals)

Einar: Absolutely adorable and I love him. Only platonically tho. I will give him as many Gils and shiny rocks as he wants

Elouisa: I wasn't sure at first, but I LOVE her unhinged theories. I want to be her best friend. I will investigate all the paranormal things with her. Contender for my Shepp. Girl let's go ghost hunting

Eshe: So snobby. So bougie. So bitchy. I wish she could be my Shepp 😫 (if only because it would be entertaining)

Hassian: First impressions? What an asshole. After some time, I am...intrigued. I want to figure him out. I want to know why he is the way he is. Also fucking love Tau, the gooodest boi

Hekla: Honestly... she freaked me out a little for a long time. I'm slowly coming around though

Hodari: Listen, I get it. I see where you all are coming from. But man's just not my type 🤷🏻‍♀️

Jel: Oh Jel, my beloved. I'm not exactly subtle about it. This man is my husband. Sad, skinny, pathetic, dramatic, goth guys are My Type™️. Would marry him like, yesterday 🥀😫🪡🖤😍

Jina: At first I wasn't sure, but the more I talk to her, I'm like, "Jina, my bestie." I'm a PhD student. I feel you. Also, WOMEN IN STEM, HELL YEAH!!!! I have a feeling we're gonna be great friends

Kenji: Not a fan of your extremely privileged life ("Have you tried inheriting property?" 😐😐😐) or the invasive chapaa situation... but I also don't dislike him as much as I thought. I feel like he's playing a role he doesn't really want to, but still enjoying/expecting the high life for little to no effort

Kenyatta: She should be my best friend. I was put off at first, but she is the coolest. I see quite a few aspects of myself in her

Nai'O: I feel like he's the sweetest boi ever. I'm both like, "He deserves better than Kenyatta" and "Kenyatta is good for him." Perhaps the most wholesome NPC

Najuma: I also want to be the cool older sister and/or cool aunt that she never had. This kid is a badass and smart as hell. I wish my friendship with her was better already

Reth: This man. I love him. I'm not sure if it's platonic or romantic yet. All I know is he's one of my favourite NPCs to talk to. He's funny, he's flirty, he's got a Tragic Backstory™️. I'm here for this soup boi whether he wants it or not

Sifuu: Two words: Bad. Ass. It's a crime that we can't romance her. I really want to ask her to be my Shepp, but I'm not sure it's a good fit

Tamala: I'm sorry, Tamala besties, but I just don't like her 😭 I really wanted to like her so bad, but her aggressive flirting paired with her unwillingness to consider me a friend/equal just rubs me the wrong way

Tish: Absolutely beautiful person. I want to be her bffl. That is all

Zeki: Crime Cat, my beloved. He is the most entertaining Shepp option (imo). He's got an eye patch, a gold tooth, and shady practices. I find him amusing. I want him to like me. Share his (dubiously acquired) riches with me. Please accept me into the black market. I won't tell, but I can't promise I'll participate (I probably will 👀)

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bright-side20 · 6 months

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Azriel's shadows dynamic :surrounding him/Vanishing

(art by jessdraws)

*First, in the book, when Az is angry, upset, or sad, the shadows always seem to gather around him and darken his face to hide his emotions. Here are some examples:

_"If Amarantha showed up at that door right now," Rhys snarled, pointing toward the foyer entry, "and said she could buy us a chance at defeating Hybern, at keeping all of you alive, I would thank the fucking Cauldron."

Azriel’s shadows gathered close, half veiling him from view.

_Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.”Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

_“The Illyrians are pieces of shit,” he said too quietly. I opened my mouth and shut it. Shadows gathered around his wings, trailing off him and onto the thick red rug. (we all know how much he hates Illyrians).

_Amren: "I did not even remember what they felt like. I did not remember sunlight.".... It was to Azriel that her attention drifted—the shadowsinger’s darkness pulling away to reveal eyes full of understanding.

=When he wanted to show he's emotions, shadows pulled away.

_Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened. Cassian blew out a breath. “I take that as a no regarding the meeting topic, then.”'.... 'Shadows gathered around Az.“You all right?” His brother nodded. “Fine.” But shadows still swarmed him. Cassian knew it was a lie, but didn’t push it. Az would speak when he was ready.

=This literally shows that when he has negative feelings, shadows hide him, and Cassian knew something was wrong just by the shadows.

*Second, in the books, his shadows lightened or vanished only with Mor, Feyre after she became a High Lady, and Elain.

With Mor:

_"Mor breezed onto the balcony... It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened."

_"Yes, Azriel, who kept a step away, whose shadows trailed him and seemed to fade in her presence. I opened my mouth to ask about her history with him, but the clock chimed ten."

_“He did not,” Mor said, and the shadows that Azriel had indeed been subtly weaving around himself vanished.

With Feyre:

I only offered my hand to Azriel. “Come sit beside me.”

Azriel’s eyes slid to Eris, the High Lord’s son panting beneath him. And the shadowsinger leaned down to whisper something in his ear that made Eris blanch further.

But the shield dropped. The shadows lightened into sunshine.

=The shadows shielded him, and he only dropped them when Feyre asked him to come.

With Elain:

_Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

_"What now?” Elain mused, finally answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room.

_"They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around."

*Third, shadows skittering because of breath was mentioned with two people:

Elain:

"Elain sucked in a soft breath that whispered over his skin. His shadows skittered back at the sound."

And Azriel 😃:

_"The shadows gathered around his shoulders, like they were indeed whispering to him, shielding him, perhaps. His broad chest expanded with a deep breath that sent them skittering, and then he set into an easy, graceful stroll after them."

_Azriel chuckled, shadows skittering. “Did you listen at all last night?”

Which means the argument that shadows skittered because they hate Elain is entirely biased.🤷🏻‍♀️

Lastly, I want to mention Feyre's description of Az in sunlight: In the blinding sun off the turquoise water, his shadows were gone, and his face was stark and clear. More human than I had ever seen him.

To conclude, Az's shadows are a part of him, and he earned them during the period when he was imprisoned in darkness. They serve as a defense tool, shielding him and hiding his emotions. When they lighten or vanish, it indicates that he's comfortable enough to expose himself, his feelings, and his vulnerability. Therefore, it is not a bad thing at all, despite how some people may try to portray it.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #elain archeron #elriel #pro elriel #pro elain #acotar thoughts #elriel supremacy #sjm #sarahjmaas #elain x azriel #art #elainarcheron #elain acotar

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abybweisse · 5 months

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Ch206, Spoilers part 1

This is gonna be a rough chapter....

The cover art looks like Doll would prefer that Snake remain blind to the truth about the circus and "Father" Kelvin.

Then we probably have a rehash of the ending to ch205, when Doll first describes the deaths of their circus friends.

Now, finally, Finny comes clean about their deaths and the part he played in it.

Idk whether we are just seeing the visual reminders of what happened or if Finny is actually giving details about what happened at Kelvin's manor. He wasn't there, so unless either our earl or Sebastian tells him about it, he really shouldn't know. Perhaps they gave him some basic information about it, like "the kidnapped children underwent medical procedures against their will, were tortured, and then died gruesomely".

Perhaps Snake asks Doll if she knew about that and if she was directly involved? 🤷🏻‍♀️

I think Snake then isn't particularly sure who to trust; both of them have kept terrible secrets from him.

Doll and Finny seem to be fighting over Snake, like who is the better friend to him or more loyal or... something along those lines.

More in part 2.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #ch206 #spoilers #kuro spoilers #kuroshitsuji spoilers #black butler spoilers #finny #finnian #snake #doll #baron kelvin #circus troupe #circus members #thoughts #nov 16 2023 #part one #part 1

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lovemyromance · 2 months

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Just the fact that there is a discrepancy between what # Acotar book is coming out next tells me all I need to know 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

Let’s count together, for the people who missed their episode of Sesame Street this morning 🤡:

ACOTAR #1: A court of thorns and roses

ACOTAR #2: A court of mist and fury

ACOTAR #3: A court of wings and ruin

ACOTAR #4: A Court of Frost and Starlight

ACOTAR #5: A court of silver flames

The next book coming out will be <drumroll pls>….

ACOTAR 6

That was so easy, wasn’t it? So why do I keep seeing people saying “oh when ACOTAR5 comes out…” ? Could it be, possibly, that people skipped a book? Let me guess, they completely skipped ACOTAR#4.

I wonder why. Perhaps because there were so many Elriel moments in that book. Perhaps in that book you see 200 pages where the seeds for Nessian and Elriel are sewn, while SJM continues to write how Elain and Lucien avoid each other. Perhaps because the you/know/who’s claim nothing of importance happens in that book and they refuse to acknowledge it 🤷🏻‍♀️

So please forgive me if I’m not listening to the opinion of anyone who can’t even COUNT properly smh.

#elriel #pro elain #azriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 year

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Coming Home - Bonus Chapter 2 - Lucien’s Cottage

Lucien x Reader

Okay, I got a tad carried away with with this 🤣 but who cares, it’s Lucien content 🤷🏻‍♀️

The story of how Y/N and Lucien met while she was travelling. Enjoy!

If you missed the other bonus chapter, you can read it here!

Warnings: SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. 🌶️

⧪

It felt like you’d been walking for days upon days upon days.

You didn’t know how mortals did it – how they could stand such slow, dragging journeys on foot.

The Wall surely had to be close by now, if you’d calculated correctly. And stupidly, you’d winnowed so much that your magic reserves were depleted, useless until you stopped to rest. So you had nothing but your feet to carry you to the Spring Court border and beyond.

After the first hour of walking, you were sick of your own thoughts. Tired from days of travel and not much sleep. The weapons you carried on you felt heavier than they normally did.

The only indication that you’d crossed over into Spring was the lush green of the forest you found yourself in – so rich, vibrant, with sweet-smelling flowers and petals and leaves of every shade you could think of. You’d never visited the Spring Court before – never had a particular desire to, after what its High Lord and his sons had done to you – but it was a well known fact that its gardens and landscapes were second to none.

Still, you didn’t plan to stick around in a place where such poison had lived and breathed – the main reason you’d not stopped to rest. Just get to The Wall. Get to The Wall, and cross over into the mortal lands, and then you can find an inn and sleep for as long as you damn well please.

For all the woods, and the sprawling estates they bordered, were beautiful, the sky wasn’t the spring blue that you’d hoped for to make your journey that bit easier. Dark, angry clouds had begun to crowd the sky, painting it with darkness. It made the towering trees feel slightly ominous.

You relented, eventually, and stopped – embarrassingly worn out for a High Fae who should have been able to walk to the ends of the world. But your body was begging for rest – just a small sit-down, you promised yourself – and that was how you found yourself kneeling on a riverbank, dipping your hands into the crystal clear water.

You drank greedily – hadn’t even noticed quite how badly you’d needed it, until the cool water ran down your throat in such a satisfying, glorious way. You used it to scrub dirt and sweat from your face, and savoured the feeling of clarity that washed over you, basked in it–

Perhaps that was why you hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps until they were right behind you.

No, not footsteps. The rhythmic clopping of a horse’s hooves. You turned just slightly, threw a glance over your shoulder.

The male astride the horse was nothing short of a magnificent vision.

Bright red hair that could have given any of these spring flowers a run for their money. Golden skin that seemed to glint and glow, and deep, russet eyes–

No – only one russet eye. The left side of his face was brutally marred, a pink, jagged scar cutting through where his left eye should have been, but had been replaced by a gold, metal one that seemed to move of its own accord as he studied you. The scar seemed fairly recent – even with the brilliant magic of fae healing. With your knowledge of healing, you suspected he’d only received the injury anywhere from a matter of months to a year or so ago.

Stunning. He was stunning.

He took in the sight of you on that riverbank, his thick, defined brows furrowing.

“Can I be of some assistance, lady?” He asked.

“Nope.” You stood up, dusting dirt and leaves from your breeches. “Unless you can tell me how close I am to The Wall.”

He cocked an eyebrow, as if such a question surprised him. “I’d say about a day away – on foot. On a good day.” He glanced up at the sky. “But there’s a storm approaching.”

You swore under your breath, reaching for the small bag you carried with you. You’d thought you’d made more progress than that. Walking was so fucking mind-numbing.

“Dare I ask why a beautiful lady such as yourself is travelling alone in the woods – towards The Wall?” The male asked, rubbing the neck of his white horse as it moved restlessly.

“I’m going to the mortal lands.” You shrugged. “But thank you – for the compliment. I’m honoured that a stranger deems me too beautiful to travel alone.”

He stared at you – and snorted at the sarcasm dripping from your tone. It was as you approached him that you got a better look at him, although the light was rapidly fading with the gathering storm.

But you’d know those famous features anywhere – silky red hair, russet eyes…you didn’t know why you hadn’t clocked it straight away.

“You’re a Vanserra, aren’t you?” You said.

“I am…” He eyed you with a lick of suspicion. “Do we know each other?”

“No. But I am curious to know what a Vanserra is doing across the Spring border.”

“What are you doing across the Spring border?”

“As I said.” You breezed past him, patting his horse as you passed. “I’m travelling to The Wall.”

That perfectly arched eyebrow cocked again. “Not any time soon, you’re not. With the torrential rain that’s coming, you’ll barely be able to see your own hand in front of your face.”

You wanted to throw your head back and let out an infantile groan – but no way would you do so in front of a Vanserra. The males of the Autumn Court were notoriously smooth, dripping with charisma. And though they didn’t exactly have a good history with your own court, you didn’t plan to embarrass yourself in front of the glorious male before you.

“It doesn’t storm here very often.” He said, eyeing you. “But when it does, it’s relentless. There’s no way you’ll be able to travel through it.”

“Fantastic.” You sighed. “I guess I’m finding a tree to shelter under for the night.”

“That’s absurd – you won’t be any better off.”

“Yes, well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t have a pretty horse to gallop me away like you do, so…”

Your words trailed off as he rolled his eyes – and jumped down from the horse. The sculpt of his muscles pressed through the material of his tunic and breeches as he moved towards you, holding out a hand.

“What are you doing?” You stepped back.

“Helping you up.” He said. “There’s an old cottage not too far from here that I was going to shelter in until the storm passed. You’ll be far more comfortable there.”

You studied him, narrowing your eyes. Clearly, he couldn’t possibly know who you were – the High Lord of the Night Court’s sister – or he no doubt would have left you to get soaked and battered by the storm. But you’d learned to be cautious of everyone you’d met on the road, learned to question their intentions–

And with the reputation of the Vanserras…

“And why would you help me?” You asked, folding your arms. “We’re strangers.”

“Perhaps I have a soft spot for pretty ladies with mud and leaves in their hair.”

Your cheeks burned. But before you could reach up and tug your fingers through the knotted strands, he was lifting you into his arms with barely a blink, and you yelped as he set you atop the horse.

“Hold on.” He murmured as he settled behind you, the heat of his body pressing through your tunic. He grabbed your hands, closing them around the reins, and with a gentle command to his horse, you were moving.

“My name is Lucien, by the way.”

⧪

What Lucien Vanserra had failed to mention was that the old cottage was, in fact, an ancient, decrepit, crumbling cottage that couldn’t be much more secure than any tree you would have found to shelter you.

There was hardly anything in there, aside from a few scattered bits of wooden furniture and a soot-sodden hearth. You watched as Lucien trudged in with a pile of wood in his arms, and knelt down before the hearth. With a flick of his hand, a fire had roared to life.

Autumn Court magic. It was rather breathtaking up-close.

“Are you sure this place is secure?” You folded your arms around yourself, studying the cramped area from where you hovered in the doorway. “It doesn’t look like it could weather a storm.”

“Sturdier than it looks.” Lucien glanced at you over his shoulder, his red, silken hair rippling with his movement. “And you’d be more comfortable than you look, if you sat down. You don’t need to worry, lady – I’ve sheltered here before.”

You hesitated – not that you were actually considering running back out into the torrential downpour that had started just as you’d arrived, but because you couldn’t help being suspicious of his goodwill. He had the smooth lexis of a Vanserra, undoubtedly – you could understand why so many males and females alike seemed to worship the Autumn males. But from experience – from what you knew about Eris Vanserra’s behaviour towards your own cousin – you didn’t imagine Lucien was offering you shelter without expecting something in return.

Slowly, you inched over to a small wooden table and perched yourself atop of it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Lucien rose from the hearth, his back muscles rippling through his white tunic. He rolled the sleeves up as he turned to you. “Which question would that be?”

“I asked what an Autumn Court male was doing across the Spring border.”

“Ah – that.” He strode across the room, rifling through a leather satchel that he’d unstrapped from his horse.

You couldn’t help watching him – admiring him. The growing flames in the hearth seemed to offset the gold of his skin and make it glow, make the corded muscles of his arms visible underneath those rolled-up sleeves.

Something about them – watching them flex and shift with his movements – made you squeeze your legs together.

You’d definitely been on the road too long.

“A Vanserra I may be,” He eventually said, turning back round to face you. “But I’m no longer a part of the Autumn Court. I’m emissary to the Spring Court now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You switched sides? Very scandalous.”

“I have a…strained relationship with my family. Namely my father.”

“Snap. My father was a prick.”

“Oh? Which court do you belong to?”

Many, many times, you’d been asked that question since you’d left Velaris. People were naturally suspicious of an outsider journeying through their lands, and you’d had a run-in with so many guards, Rhys would go spare if he knew.

But you’d managed to avoid answering – to keep your anonymity, lest anyone tip your family off to where you were. Or use you to get to them. When you were nameless, boring, the other courts saw no reason to bother with you; no reason to view you as anything other than a restless young female living a nomadic lifestyle.

You weren’t about to falter now – particularly not in the Spring Court, of all places. Just in case High Lord Tamlin learned of your presence in his lands and came to finish off what his father had started.

So you simply smiled at Lucien. Told him, “I belong to no one.”

He raised an eyebrow, dragging a chair closer and perching backwards on it. “You must hail from somewhere.”

“Must I?”

He stared at you over the back of his chair, folding his forearms against it. The breeches cut close to his legs as they hung either-side. Muscled. Thick. You wondered what they looked like beneath the material.

His gaze was…a combination of different things. Narrowed, like he was trying to puzzle you out and finding it annoying, but also amused, and – and wild. Calculating. Like he was sizing up a challenge. One side of his mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Who are you?” He seemed desperate for the answer.

You shrugged. Casual. Nonchalant. “My name is Y/N.”

“And your family name?”

“Is irrelevant.” You jumped from the table, moving closer to the fire.

His eyes followed every one of your movements. “Is that all I get?”

“Yep.”

A deep, silky laugh rumbled from his chest, the sound of it reaching out to you, caressing your skin that felt like it was already freezing. It was a pleasant sound; warm and sensual. Intriguing.

“Okay.” He murmured, standing from the chair. “In that case, would you like a drink? It’ll help you to forget that you’re cold, if nothing else.”

You rounded on him, shot him that same, close-lipped smile. “A drink sounds wonderful.”

⧪

He’d been right – the rain was coming down, vicious and hard.

Hard enough that it sounded like rocks slamming against the roof. But with the whiskey that was warming your belly, it became nothing but background noise. And the combination of intoxication, and the roaring fire, meant that you barely noticed the cold, either.

Lucien was interesting. Perhaps one of the most interesting people you’d met while travelling – or ever, really. He’d done some travelling himself, having never had any interest in being High Lord of the Autumn Court. He’d coasted from place to place and made friends with people who were supposed to be enemies.

The two of you had taken to sitting on the floor beside the hearth, and you drank – and drank, and drank, and drank, – as he regaled you with tales of his adventures and troubles he’d gotten himself into – and out of. After an hour, it felt like you were talking to an old friend.

You were still laughing at his latest story as he handed you the bottle of whiskey you’d been passing back and forth. Your hands briefly brushed as you accepted it, and he sat back, leaning on his palms as he watched you take a swig.

“You said you’re going to the mortal lands?” He tilted his head. He’d loosely tied his hair back with a leather thong, but strands had already begun to fall around his face again. “Whatever for?”

You shrugged, savouring the muted burn of the alcohol as you swallowed. “I said I wanted to see the world, and I meant it. I want to see all of it. And I have no issue with mortals. The idea of living amongst them, seeing their ways, interests me.”

“They’ll have an issue with you. They hate our kind. They won’t want you there.”

“Well.” You smiled. Took another swig. “I’m well-versed in being unwanted.”

That smouldering, russet stare zeroed in on you, the metal eye moving down your body and back up. The expression on his face – the one of intrigue, of challenge – had only strengthened with each topic of conversation you’d got through. You could practically feel the frustration dripping from him. The need to break through your guard.

“Tell me about you.” He said – not for the first time. He prised the bottle from your hands, taking a swig.

“I told you already.” You smiled. “I’ve lived a sheltered life and I’m ready to see more. Which is why I’m travelling.”

“But there’s more to tell.”

“Of course.” You laughed softly. “Isn’t there always? But why should I tell a stranger such things?”

He smirked. “I’d quite like to know who I’ve offered to shelter with for the night. For all I know, you’ll stab me through the heart as soon as I’m asleep.”

“Well.” You scooted closer. Closer. Until your knees touched. You took the bottle from him, lifting it to your lips. “There’s a solution for that.”

His eyes fell to your mouth. “What’s the solution?”

“Neither of us sleep. And I won’t stab you, and you won’t stab me.”

He snorted. “And how do you suggest, lady, that we wile away the hours whilst the storm rages outside?”

It was you staring at his mouth, then. The way one side of his lips lifted into a lopsided grin, or a sensual smirk, was something that had been slowly driving you mad and heating you all over since you’d sat down together.

You knew precisely how you wished to wile away the gods-damn hours. How you wished to keep warm.

You pushed up onto your knees, so much closer to him like this. Close enough that you could smell the whiskey on him. “You tell me, Vanserra.”

His head tilted. “Well…you could tell me more about who you are. Where you’ve been. What makes you…”

His words trailed off as your fingers brushed his leg. His gaze fell, watching as you danced your hand over his knee, and slowly, slowly up, over his thigh.

“Hmm?” You hummed, coaxing his eyes back to yours. So near – your fingers were so, so near to his crotch. “What makes me what?”

He cleared his throat. Swallowed. “...What makes you…uh…tick. Or…or what interests you.”

“I could.” You nodded, stilling your hand. “I could take my hand off you right now and tell you all the boring ins and outs of my life – if that’s what you want.”

“No.”

The word was almost a snarl. You laughed breathily, your fingers climbing up his leg once more.

“So just to clarify,” You mused. “You don’t want me to stop touching–”

There was no chance to finish the sentence as Lucien surged forward and claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss. His large, warm hand cupped the back of your head, fingers slipping through the strands of your hair. He pulled you closer, nipping your bottom lip.

The pleasant pinch of pain had you gasping – and opening up to him. He slid his tongue into your mouth, invading you with his smoky taste of whiskey and fire. While your hand continued to stroke up his leg, you moved the other to his shirt, fisting the fabric.

“So,” You pulled away just slightly, breathing against his lips, “You want me to touch you?”

That russet eye flared. “I think I may die if you don’t.”

You laughed softly – and pulled away as he tried to slide his lips over yours again. You were faster than him, instead place a kiss to his jaw, and then his neck, and then against the small strip of his skin that poked out from beneath his crumpled white shirt.

“I want this off.” You murmured, unfastening the buttons. You practically yanked the shirt down his arms, baring his firm, muscled chest and stomach.

He shivered as you touched a hand to his chest – and yet his skin was so gloriously warm. You wondered if fire truly lived inside of him, if Autumn Court magic was an inferno in the veins of the Vanserras.

If he was shuddering, in fact, from your touch, rather than the cold.

You dipped your head, licking a stripe across his pectoral muscles, and you felt him jerk just slightly beneath you, hissing between his teeth.

“A tad sensitive, aren’t you?” You chuckled, dragging your tongue lower. Over his stomach, all the dips and lines there.

Lucien bit down on his lip, watching you intently. “It’s kind of hard not to be with a pretty lady licking me.”

“The pretty lady can stop if it’s too much for you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

As if to push his point, he bucked his hips – and you smirked. You locked your eyes with his as you undid the buttons fastening his breeches. Your movements were slow, unhurried, as you tugged them down.

The length of him sprung free. Hard. Taught. Thick and long.

“Lucien Vanserra,” Your voice was a teasing lilt as you dipped your head, blowing a breath against the head of his cock. “Is there a part of you that isn’t beautiful?”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he seemed to be incapable of an answer as you poked out your tongue and slowly, slowly, allowed it to touch the very tip of his cock.

“Gods.” He gritted his teeth, his hips jerking. In an attempt to steady himself, he slammed a hand down on the floor – and sent the bottle of whiskey flying.

Neither of you paid it any mind as the liquid sloshed onto the ground.

“Very sensitive, indeed.” You hummed. And took him into your mouth.

The groan that ripped through his throat was animalistic. His other hand landed on the back of your head, twisting within your hair as you took him in further, further, until the head of his cock touched the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck.” He hissed. “I am not going to last.”

Your answering chuckle was a delicious vibration as you slowly moved up again, tracing your tongue over the bold, sensitive vein that seemed to already be pulsing and throbbing. You wrapped your hand around the base of him and returned your attention to the head, where you swirled your tongue, and put the slightest of pressures on the little indentation just beneath. Lucien’s head fell back, a moan and a string of curses falling from his lips.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He gasped.

“Right there?” You smirked, pressing your tongue against the indentation again.

“You have no idea—gods.” His hips bucked once, twice, and then he was spilling into your mouth, his groans and growls utterly feral, guttural.

You swallowed every drop of him, allowing him to take the reins as he gripped onto your hair and fucked into your mouth, the waves of his release barreling through him with such force, he trembled. His cock was still twitching, his breaths heaving, as he pulled out of your mouth and stared at you.

“Who are you?” He breathed, repeating his earlier words. “The fucking Mother must have sent you to me.”

You snorted. “Well that was fun.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “If you think I’m done with you yet, you’re very much mistaken. I can smell how wet you are from here.”

Oh. You didn’t doubt he could. You were dripping in your underwear, clenching your thighs together for any little, pathetic bit of friction. Lucien smirked wickedly at you.

“Your turn, lady.”

You let yourself fall back, and you were tingling all over as he moved to hover over you. Each bit of clothing he removed was replaced with the brushing off his lips – over your breasts, your nipples, your stomach, as he pulled your shirt off and threw it aside. The cold air immediately made your nibbles pebble, and you felt him smirk against you, his teeth grazing the sensitive nubs.

He was hardening against you already. You reached down, wanting to feel him again, to hear those delicious noises–

“Uh-uh, not yet.” He chuckled deeply, his lips brushing over your navel. “I want to have some fun with you first.”

Any response you could come up with completely eddied from your mind as he yanked your breeches and underwear down in one go – fabric ripping and buttons flying everywhere.

“Oops.” He murmured, chucking them behind him. “Sorry.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as the cold air hit your now-exposed centre. “You don’t sound very—oh gods.”

He didn’t hesitate – not for a second. His breath was warm against you, wayward strands of his hair tickling your skin as he dipped his head.

And licked a strip right up your centre.

You immediately fisted those strands of hair within your hands, tugging just slightly. Your hips bucked as his tongue slowly licked up, up towards your clit.

“Who’s the sensitive one now?” Lucien chuckled deeply, and the sound was pure, molten lava that spread through you and licked its way over your body.

His tongue swirled your clit, the tip of it flicking right over that hyper-sensitive spot. You were gasping, writhing, your head falling back and your back arching.

“Oh fuck.” If this was what a Vanserra could do with his mouth, you wanted all of them, at once, immediately. You bucked your hips towards him, a moan ripping through you as he sucked on your clit – and inserted a finger into you. “Gods–Lucien.”

You were gonna cum—and fall off the world, and not stop falling. There wasn’t a part of you that didn’t feel perfect, and ecstatic, and like lightning all over–

But then he just stopped. Pulled his finger out of you. Slid his mouth off you.

You yanked your head up from the floor, a whine of pure desperation escaping you as you met his eyes.

Lucien was smirking down at you. Fisting at his cock. He pumped it once, twice, and lined it up with your centre.

“As much as I want to taste you cumming on my tongue,” He said wickedly. “I think I want you to cum on my cock more.”

A rasp escaped you as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. “Why can’t it be both?”

He chuckled. “We have all night.”

And then he pushed into you.

In, and in, and in. It was never-ending, that feeling. The feeling of being stretched, and filled, and torn apart and put back together again.

Lucien’s mouth fell open, a breath falling from his lips as he glanced down, his brow furrowed in full concentration – and desire – as he watched himself push into you.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He hissed. He stilled, just for a moment – just to give you a chance to adjust. Because you were tight; tight all over. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your breast, and he squeezed.

And then he pulled back out of you. And slammed back in, right to the hilt.

The noise was like no other you’d ever made in your life. Your head fell back, and your mouth opened with a string of moans. Never had you sounded so consumed, so sultry and raspy and sexy.

And it seemed to be driving Lucien Vanserra wild.

His thrusts were hard and fast, relentless and frenzied, as he slammed into you. You could have sworn you felt it – him – in every part of your body. Could have sworn you just about died as he kissed you, and moaned into your mouth.

You moved one hand to his perfectly sculpted ass, encouraging his thrusts. His lips latched onto your neck as his pace picked up – more and more and more, until you could feel yourself beginning to crumble.

“Fuck,” Lucien choked, slamming his hand against the floor – giving himself more purchase to thrust harder, faster. “Cum, Y/N—I can feel you clenching around my cock.”

And gods, you were. Clenching and writhing and completely falling apart. It was too much, too good–

You broke completely when he reached down and pressed a thumb to your clit. That was all it took.

Release barreled through you, so ferocious that you couldn’t form any words – only moan after moan after moan, and you were shaking, gripping and scratching at Lucien’s skin.

You dug your nails in – hard. And Lucien thrust in once more. He went rigid against you as an animalistic growl rumbled out of him.

“Gods…Holy fucking Gods.” He gasped, spilling and spilling and spilling into you. He was twitching inside you, and shaking against you, his hands hard and bruising on your thighs, your hips.

You could only stare up at him. Try to catch your breath. But you were spent. Truly and utterly fucked out. If your eyes were as glazed and cheeks as flushed as his were, you wouldn’t be at all surprised.

“Gods.” He said again, and pulled out of you with a shudder. “That was…gods.”

“Yes.” You whispered breathlessly. “Gods.”

The cottage was suddenly silent – aside from that hammering rain, and the heavy breathing coming from both of you. Lucien sat back, his golden cheeks a rosy pink. He seemed stunned by the force of his own release.

You turned your head to look at him from where you still lay on the floor, and you smirked.

“This was a much better idea than sheltering under a tree.”

⧪

You awoke to sunlight streaming through the dirty windows.

The sky outside was a cerulean blue — the storm well and truly passed.

You were achy from a night sleeping – and fucking – on a hard floor…but the ache was satisfying. Pleasant.

You rolled over to find Lucien still asleep beside you, beautiful and unguarded. His red hair had completely broken from the knot he tied it into, and it splayed around him like flames. A sudden urge rose in you to reach out and touch it. To trace your fingers over his brow and across the jagged line of his scar.

But you simply watched for a while. Last night was the first time in a long, long time you’d felt so good. So…wanted.

And because of a fucking Vanserra, of all the males in Prythian. The thought made you snort. If Rhys knew about this—or Cassian or Azriel—

No. You couldn’t think about them. Couldn’t let yourself get off course, just because of one night of incredible, earth-shattering pleasure. You needed to get back on track and complete your journey to The Wall. You could be in the mortal lands by night time.

You rose from your spot, moving carefully and silently as you stepped around Lucien’s sleeping figure and retrieved your clothes. A tad dirty and ripped, but you could make do until you got to the other side of The Wall.

You dressed quickly, and then grabbed your bag that sat beside Lucien’s leather satchel. You threw one glance back at him before you headed to the door.

You’d barely set a foot out of it before you heard a rustle behind you.

“You’re leaving?” Lucien croaked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I want to get to The Wall before it gets too dark.” You told him. “But thank you—for helping me. For offering me shelter. And for…”

“The ground-breaking orgasms?” He propped himself up on his elbow. Gazed at you. “Stay. Tell me more about you. I know your name, but I want to know who you are.”

That guarded, close-lipped smile returned to your face. “Can’t. It’s a secret.”

“But–”

“Perhaps we’ll cross paths again someday.” You smirked, stepping out onto the wet soil. “Goodbye, Lucien Vanserra.”

You didn’t wait for his reply as you shut the door behind you and headed off into the forest.

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

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 1 year

Text

Being Nekoma’s Emo Manager

Nekoma x Fem! Manager (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: probably swearing 🤷🏻‍♀️ idk if that’s even a warning

AN: this is an anon request! I realized I had it labeled from Spooky Anon but it wasn’t signed from Spooky anon 😅 so idk who it’s from.

*aggressively hits G note on piano and stares into your soul*

If you unaware of the song that made an entire generation, please google it

Also I will not argue this point because I have both age and vintage Emo on my side 😌

Now for a mini history lesson, the Emo I’m going to be referring to today was popular from the late 90s to late 2000s and into the 2010s

This means heavy black eyeliner, hair that defied gravity, neckties being used as anything but neckties

Black with hints of accent colors such as, but not limited too, pinks, orange, white, etc.

The days when TRL and MTV were the way to “stream” new music and hot topic was the source of all band t-shirts

Now that I’ve covered a small history lesson, let’s strap in shall we!

So get your check board belts and fingerless gloves ready kids!

Because it’s time to get EMOtional 😂

N E Ways- let’s just say, you classified yourself as an “Emo kid”

It wasn’t super unheard of to be different fashionably in school but you, well you were definitely a sight

Your hair was teased to the rafters, bows of every color along with skulls littered your hair

Your eye liner was the blackest black, and you skin looked like you hadn’t seen sun in decades 😅

You wore fishnet tights with vans or perhaps another skateboarding shoe

You looked pretty intimidating to most people who didn’t know you

I mean, your style doesn’t exactly scream approachable

However, the people who did know you, knew that your style of “dark and brooding” didn’t measure up AT ALL to your personality

You were a complete sunshine ☀️

A literal sweetheart and absolute Angel!

Unfortunately a lot of kids didn’t get to know you ☹️

But luckily, there was one guy who didn’t care about looks

He really didn’t care about much actually 👀

And that happened to be our favorite setter Kenma!

Because Kenma honestly does not care about looks or superficial things like that

Actually, when you first got teamed up with Kenma to work on a project, a lot of kids thought it was a strange combo

But somehow, you two managed to make it work and in fact, you got the best grade in the class

After that, you and Kenma became partners for every project

There was just something he enjoyed about you

Probably your weird similarity to Hinata honestly 😏

Soon you and Kenma started hanging out after school

You both loved video games as well as had similar styles in music

Look at me and tell me Kenma wouldn’t be into Emo rock 👁️👄👁️

Fall out boy, Paramore, Taking Back Sunday, THE USED!!!!

Anyways, soon Kuroo joins and he’s confused about your friendship with Kenma

Like you and Kenma are complete opposites but you get along super well

Eventually Kuroo starts taking a liking to you as well

Kuroo has natural Emo hair so it’s fate 💅

Kuroo soon figures out why Kenma enjoys your company as you are a literal dark ball of sunshine

Eventually you start accompanying out kitty cats to practice in order to hang out with Kuroo and Kenma

Upon entering the gym, everyone stares at you

You low key kinda scare the first years, Inuoka and Shibayama

Yaku and Kai are super interested as in why you are there

Yamamoto is just dead because there’s a girl in the gym 🙄

And Lev, well Lev can’t keep his mouth shut

“Hey you’re that weird chick that wears black and has crazy hair. I’ve heard a lot about you!” Lev screams

Yaku please 😌

“LEV SHUT UP!” Kuroo yells as Yaku kicks him

You just giggle, a sound nobody was expecting, as you say, “I’m Yn! I guess I kind of do get a little bit of a reputation but I promise, I’m not evil or something!”

“She’s actually kind of cute in a different way,” Kai says as Fukunaga and Yaku nodd in agreement.

Soon, you are coming to every practice and helping where you can

Setting up chairs, filling water balls, handing out towels

The boys quickly adore you and soon you just naturally become apart of the team

Kuroo officially asks you the teams manager which you gladly accept

It’s hard finding a club with your specific tastes and since you could still express your style and personality, volleyball club seemed perfect!

You enjoyed playing music, listening to music and writing which were all supported by Nekoma

Our progressive Kings 👑

Honestly they were so supportive of their Emo scene queen!

They loved when you added little touches of red to your outfits and even made a hair bow that specifically said “Nekoma” on it 🥹

Of course, they were still boys so they all found you super cute and adorable

Yamamoto was your personal body guard for everything

It didn’t matter what, he always walked you to every class and if anyone made any comments about you, he would challenge them to a “rumble”

Language you later learned, was picked up from Karasuno 🙄

You had heard about Karasuno and you were honestly so excited to meet them!

Kenma had told you about Karasuno’s tiny middle blocker

On the way to training camp, our sweet boys let you play the music

Honestly Coach Nekomata was way into it 😂

He was such a hip coach and he knew you kids were into some weird stuff

Please he was too 🤚🏻

Anyways, he’s just happy you bring so much joy to the team

And honestly you match Nekoma’s cat-like mysterious vibes

So when you showed up, the other teams just kind of stared at you

Obviously you kinda stood out like a sore thumb Yn, sorry to say

But don’t worry, Yamamoto is on the case 🫡

“WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? HAVENT UOU EVEN SEEN A GORGEOUS GIRL BEFORE?!?” He screams

You rn 👉🏻😐

Yaku 👉🏻 YAMAMOTO STOP BEING AN IDIOT

You just roll your eyes and smile, bowing to the teams and greeting them

Almost instantly, they melted 🥰

Because like how are you both adorable and scary???

Literally Emo culture mkay

“Come on Yn, let’s go,” Kenma says as you wave and walk away

Eventually you get introduced to all the teams, including Karasuno

You end up making eye contact with Hinata several times as he observes you

Finally, he makes his move

“Hi there! I really like your style! I see your friends with Kenma and the pretty girl manager for Nekoma! I’m Shoyo Hinata and I’m a middle blocker!” He shouts

You smile back and greet him, “Kenma had told me so much about you! It’s so great time finally meet you!”

Kuroo and Daichi watch you both and shake their heads

“Boy short stuff really can make friends with anyone can’t he?”

“You new manager looks super sweet and outgoing, albeit a little interesting,” Daichi says as Kuroo nods

Soon you and Hinata, and by consequence Bokuto, become besties

Honestly you really enjoy hanging out with Akaashi but we won’t tell Bokuto that 😶

You share your knowledge as well as your unique style of cheering with the boys

You wrote cute little cheers and even inspirational poetry to share with the boys

Bokuto and Hinata loved your fancy words : D

And even when Bokuto went into his own Emo modes, the teams knew exactly who to call!

“YN HALPPPP!” Akaashi would silently communicate to you with his eyes

You 👉🏻 NEVER FEAR OUR SCENE QUEEN IS HERE 🦸🏻‍♀️

“Bokuto would you like to listen to some music or maybe we can talk about your feelings?” You say as you rub his back

“I could use a hug,” Bokuto 🥺

You 👉🏻😌🥰 of course-

Akaashi doesn’t get it, Nekoma doesn’t get it but they appreciate it!!

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