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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Maybe I Like Your Jealousy

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-13/T (maybe pushing M? but there’s still nothing super explicit. this is just a lot dirtier than I usually write holy cannoli. Heavy kissing, a little bit of suggestive dialogue and narration, minor swearing?)

Original Idea: This

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is only 1,688 words but... I’m putting the most heated bits under a Read More (usually if a one-shot is under 1,800 I don’t bother because I’m l a z y) because of how spicy it gets. Nothing super explicit, of course, but it’s highly suggestive. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Jason knocked on the door to the bathroom. “Babydoll, come on,” he pleaded quietly. “Please just open the door.” He knocked again, slightly more insistently. “You know I…” Knock… knock. “… let my anger get the best of me sometimes.”

I didn’t say anything, just sniffed and wiped a tear off my cheek.

He sighed. “Ugh. Please, babydoll. Just… come out here and we can… we can talk about this.”

“Like adults?” I asked, voice thick and shaking.

“I’m… sorry, okay? Is that what you want me to say? Babydoll, I’m sorry.” His voice had dropped to a quiet, soft murmur. Genuinely apologetic. “We can talk like adults, I promise.”

I slid off the bathroom counter and unlocked the bathroom door, emerging, but refusing to meet his eyes.

“Thank God, there you are,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug with a small grunt. “Look, darling, I just… I know I got a little angry—”

“Just a little? You overreacted to the moon and back.” I backed up a step, rolling my eyes.

“Stop saying that. I know you hate it when we fight—but I can’t… look, I can’t just pretend that it doesn’t bother me. I saw you flirting with that guy.”

“I told you already: I was not flirting with him.”

“I know what I saw. The way you looked at him made my blood boil. And the things I said earlier… were not phrased well. I admit that.” He sighed. “But, you know that I love you, don’t you? So much. The thought of losing you scared me tonight. It still does. I wish you could know exactly how it feels to be in my head—to love you so fiercely and to be so terrified that I might screw it up. You know who I am, what I do. You know that it’s dangerous for us to even be together. That scares me too. But not as much as losing you to some other guy does. If you got hurt because of the rogues, that would be one thing, if you got hurt because of me and left? That would destroy me. I would destroy myself for being so stupid that I lost you.

“I know it’s bad and unhealthy—but I can’t stop this need to be… protective.”

“Possessive,” I corrected.

He cleared his throat. “Alright. Possessive,” he agreed, somewhat begrudgingly, like he was trying to cool his temper so we didn’t explode again. “I’ll be honest: I don’t want to share you. You are the one good thing that’s happened to my life in… in so long I stopped keeping track of the years. I try not to get too… possessive, but sometimes I can’t keep it down. And I know you’re independent and strong but… I can’t help the part of my soul that wants to keep you solely for myself. Which, I am aware, is not healthy for either of us. But knowing that doesn’t help much in the heat of the moment.

“Babydoll, darling… do you know… what it felt like to watch the only good future I’ve seen in years—my dream girl—so easily slipping away from me toward someone else? I felt myself break down to my core.”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” I said sharply.

Jason took a deep breath and sighed slowly. I saw his fingers twitch as he exhaled, one at a time. Counting to ten. Calming down. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, love,” he said, “and you’re right. That is a ‘me’ problem. I’m insecure, and I know it. Insecure, jealous—” He closed his eyes and added softly, “Weak. However you want to put it.” He reached out for me. “Come here, please?” I let him hug me. “I’m sorry. I wanted to have a nice time. And as you two were talking, I had to keep reminding myself everything we’ve been through and said together. That you’re mine, and I’m yours. That we stick together through it all. All that stuff.

“I didn’t lose control of my temper until you touched him. If he’d touched you and you’d looked uncomfortable, I’d have had leave to deck him in the face. But you touched him. So I just had to sit there and not do anything. In that moment it looked… it looked like you wanted him more… more than me.” Jason cleared his throat. “And I know that I can never be what that guy is—normal. Less messed up than I am. I know you deserve someone like that.”

“I don’t want a guy like that. I still love you, you big idiot.”

He screwed up his face. “I know—that sounded stupid; and it probably was. But… this isn’t the first time I felt that way. We both know you deserve better than me.”

I stared at the hallway carpet, still not meeting his eyes—as I hadn’t the whole time he’d been talking. “Maybe. But deserve and want are two different things,” I muttered.

“Come on, babydoll, look at me,” he said softly, cupping my face in his hand, but not pushing it toward him. I didn’t move, not sure I wanted to yet. “Please, baby? Won’t you look me in the eye? You’re stronger than me, and you know it. We both do. I’m an emotional and mental mess—but I’m trying to be better for you.”

Finally, I looked up at him. He was crying too.

His shoulders sagged. “There’s my babydoll. There’s those beautiful eyes I adore. I’m so sorry, darling. I can’t stand you being angry with me. Do you think you can forgive me?”

“Maybe,” I said.

“I’m sorry I smudged your makeup. I’m supposed to mess up your lipstick, not your mascara and eyeliner.” He reached up with the hem of his shirt caught on his thumb. “Let me wipe your tears.”

I turned to go get a tissue in the bathroom behind us, but Jason didn’t want to let me go.

“Just use my shirt, baby. The tissue shouldn’t have to suffer for my jealousy.” He chuckled just slightly, obviously trying to cheer me up.

“This was all so stupid,” I said as he mopped up the smeared eyeliner and mascara from the tear tracks down my face.

“I know. I know,” he said comfortingly. “I wasn’t thinking. The silence on the car ride home was childish and I shouldn’t have snapped at you when we parked. I’m really sorry. I don’t know if I can say it enough.” He kissed my forehead.

I looked up at him and reached around his embrace to tap my lips. He gave me a small smile and leaned down, kissing me there.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, kissing me again, deeper this time. “Ow! Why’d you bite my lip?”

I bit my own lower lip in a smirk. “I didn’t bite that hard, you big baby. And I did it because I love you.”

“I love you too—but you didn’t have to bite me.”

I shrugged. “Mm. Maybe I kinda like it when you get jealous,” I replied.

He raised a brow at me. All melancholy set aside as playful smugness took over his expression. “Oh is that right? You like it, do you?” There was impish delight in the smirk that tugged on his face. “That, my dear, is dangerous territory. Fortunately for you—” He leaned down so his lips brushed the curve of my ear. “—it’s pretty hot too.”

My blood flared to life. Heat travelled over my entire body, originating from my chest.

“We are so dysfunctional, sometimes,” I said.

Jason laughed. It was soft, but with great feeling. “Yeah… I guess we’re both kinda messed up, aren’t we?”

I scrunched my nose. “Just a little bit.”

He brushed his fingers down my cheek. “Try not to make a habit of getting me riled up and jealous, okay? Please? It happens way more often than you realize—” I scoffed. “—Yes, it does. Trust me. But you don’t… sweetheart, you don’t have to act out if you want me to show you just how much you really mean to me. Next time, we can just… fast forward… right to here.”

“The hallway?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“Then, where’s ‘here’?” We both knew I was just playing around to get his reaction.

“Well, my love, here is where I back you up against this wall—just like this—and remind you who you belong to,” he said, low, deep, and growly. His voice dropped. “And who belongs to you. So completely and thoroughly that it absolutely wrecks me.”

Before I could protest—not that I wanted to—my shoulder blades bumped against the wall and Jason’s mouth was on mine. His arms released me long enough to shuck off his shirt and mine before they were around me again, hands feeling their way around my bare skin as mine did the same to him. I managed to find the buckle of his belt and undo it. He’d always struggled with my bra hooks so I let him suffer a little bit with trying to unhook them. Minor retribution for starting the argument.

“This is abrupt,” I whispered as his kisses trailed down my neck so he could peer over my shoulder, presumably.

“Is it?” He didn’t sound surprised by the statement whatsoever. “Maybe I’m just happy to get back to ‘us’ again.” His fingers slipped down my spine. I arched my back, pressing against him. He smirked. “And finally seeing that my babydoll has a bit of a rebel inside… well. I’m not gonna deny that it’s a bit of a turn-on.”

I giggled. “I’ll let it show more often, if this is what I get for it,” I teased.

“Mm. Gimme a second to figure out how to get the rest of your clothes off and you’ll get more.”

“I think it’ll do us both some good,” I said. “Get out some energy. Some tension.”

“Sounds fine to me.” He kissed my shoulder.

“Mmmmmm… me too,” I agreed.

#Maybe I Like Your Jealousy #Jason Todd #Jason Todd Imagine #Jason Todd FanFiction #red hood imagine #Red Hood #red hood fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction #DC #dc imagine #dc fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

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Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 2]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Original Idea: This (V1 follows this idea a lot more than this one, which I spun off of about halfway through and did my own thing)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I didn’t think this would be as long as Version 1. I was wrong. This one is ~200 words longer, at 3,491. Version 1 here. They start the exact same but change about halfway through. I wrote both of these two over the course of 1 day by the way, and refuse to pick a favorite. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

“Yeah. I had to go to two different stores to find your popcorn because they were out at the first one,” Jason replied, letting himself in and dropping his motorcycle helmet on my couch. “Let me go change into my sweats.” He pulled his grey sweatpants out of his backpack, two microwave popcorn bags falling out.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

“Get out of those jeans. You know they aren’t allowed,” I retorted before going over to the microwave. My bathroom door shut loudly. I boosted myself onto the counter and watched the popcorn spin in the microwave.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

He beamed at me. “Well, my friend, we are watching the very first ever made Frankenstein. From nineteen-thirty-one.” He fixed me with a stare as my shoulders slouched. “Don’t you start moaning in complaint. You put me through watching that awful musical last week—”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

“Maybe so, but after going through that ordeal, you promised we could watch one of my favorites. I managed not to fall asleep last week, so it’s my turn.” He stuck his tongue out at me, then shook his head. “I really need to refine your taste in theatre. Remind me to convince Bruce to give me his season tickets to the real opera. He never uses them anyway. Doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Given Bruce’s parents were shot after leaving the opera, I imagined there was some childhood trauma there. I didn’t bring it up with Jason. We didn’t talk about family besides passing comments on movie nights.

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Ever since we’d graduated college—two years ago—we’d had movie night in my bed, rather than on the couch, like we’d done in my dorm. The bed was comfier and gave us more room to spread out. I can’t even remember who suggested it, but it was probably me one week when I was sick or something and we’d just stayed that way ever since.

I’d always hosted too. In college it was because my roommate was never there, and now Jason just liked the escape from his family. They didn’t know where I lived, so the one time he hosted and they interrupted by coming over, he and I agreed we’d just have it at my place. I liked his brothers and sister well enough, but they’d ruined that movie night. I doubted Wayne Manor movie nights ever involved any movies no one had seen before—because everyone talked and yelled at each other too much to actually pay attention to the movie.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Well, all that means is that we get to rewatch it—from the beginning—next week!” Jason declared. I frowned. “Don’t you pout at me. Those have been the official movie night rules since our freshman year of college.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dug deep into the Google Docs on my phone for Movie Night Rules from our freshman year of college. Six years was a long way to scroll through, but eventually I found it. I opened the doc and scanned the rules. “Oh, buzz off,” I muttered, poking Jason in the side.

“No poking!” He lurched away. Jason was selectively ticklish. Sometimes I would poke him in the side and he’d jump, other times he wouldn’t even notice I touched him. And he swapped between the two randomly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “I thought about it. But you looked so cute—” He pinched my cheek and I was reminded of the fact that he had the personality traits of an eighty-year-old grandmother. “—with your hair all messy and your cheeks all squished that I just couldn’t.” He laughed as I batted his hand away from my face. I poked him again. “No poking!”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

I expected him to smack my hand away and shove the shirt back down over his torso, but to my surprise, he helped me take it off. I’d seen him shirtless too many times to bother staring at his remarkably muscular torso. I just climbed out of my bed and went to the small closet out in the hall that held my tiny washer and dryer. I threw his shirt in the washer, dumped a bit of detergent in, and got it started before going back to my room.

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

Jason struggled to get one of my—much smaller—T-shirts from college off. I scoffed and helped him yank it over his head before throwing one my pajama shirts at him. I wore my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was even big on Jason. “You could have just asked for a replacement and I’d have handed you this.”

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

Jason leaned over to set his popcorn bowl on the bedside table closest to him. “Maybe next week we should try this on the couch. I always feel bad about getting popcorn on your sheets—and then you won’t be so comfortable that you fall asleep.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

He laughed. “Well, if you’re going to play dirty, I will too.” He reached out as my pillow hit him again and he wrangled it from me. “A-ha! Look at that! Got your ammo. How does it feel, to be attacked by your own pillow?”

Jason started smacking me with it. I squealed and blocked him as best I could with my arms. We were both laughing as I tried to reach around him to the pillow he’d been using to brace his back against my headboard. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and hit me with the pillow using the other. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going easy on you just because you’re adorable.”

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Getting inside his much longer reach was the hard part. Once I managed to duck around his arms and wrench my wrist free, I started tickling him. Tonight was a ticklish night. He squirmed away from me.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

“No. No!” His protests didn’t work on me. “Oh you’re as bad as my brothers. Stop it—stop it.” His voice went firm, all traces of laughter gone. With one quick movement, the pillow we’d attacked each other with was discarded on the floor. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was lying flat in the center of the bed.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. His eyes widened, as if he seemed to just barely realize how close we were. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.”

He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them.

He swung his leg to get off me and used it to step off the bed. “I should go,” he said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll grab my T-shirt next week.” He strode to the door of my bedroom while I sat on the bed, dumbfounded, jaw hanging open.

As he opened the door, I bounded off the bed.

I caught him before he could reach for his stuff on my couch, grabbing his wrist. “What was that about?” I demanded. He refused to turn and look at me.

“Just… let it go,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to pull his wrist out of my hand, but I grabbed it with my other one to hold him in both.

“No! What the hell is going on with you?”

“Leave it alone,” he growled out.

“I can’t! What happened in there that made you shut down? What did I do wrong?”

He whirled. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me!”

“Then tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Jason grabbed me by the shoulders, wrenching out of my grip so hard my fingers ached. He spun me around and pinned me by the shoulders against my front door. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched it before fixing me with a crystal blue stare. “It’s just… seeing you beneath me—all flushed pink and panting, your eyes hooded and staring up at me… seeing you like that… I just felt myself fall in love with you!”

If he hadn’t pinned me against the door I probably would have fallen over from shock. My mouth definitely fell open. “Jay… I…” I breathed.

Still holding my shoulders, he spun me around so I was away from the front door and moved to shove his jeans into his backpack.

Before he could, I threw reservation to the wind.

I grabbed his shoulders, forced him to turn and face me, moved my hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss me.

Our mouths crashed together hard enough to make my front teeth ache, but I didn’t care. My heart leapt into my throat and I almost melted as his arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, so our torsos were pressed against each other. My eyelids closed as I sighed. We were both breathing hard, air from our noses warm against each other’s skin. Holding my waist in both arms, he turned and pinned my back against the door again.

“Oh, God…” Jason breathed against my lips. He kissed me again and I moaned. He reached one hand up and tangled it in my hair. He could palm the back of my skull as though it were a basketball. His fingers were warm against my scalp.

When he pulled his lips away from me, I groaned quietly in complaint.

“We—we should not be doing this,” he whispered, shaking his head. The white streak at the front of his hairline flopped back and forth with the movement. I wanted to reach my fingers up and twist that streak between them. But I didn’t.

“Why not?” I replied, just as breathless.

“We’re friends. This isn’t us.”

“You just said that you just barely fell in love with me.”

“I did. But I’m not willing to ruin the good thing we’ve had going on here for six years.” He panted, shoulders heaving up and down, as he reached up and took my hands away from his face, gently dragging them by the wrists. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve been able to keep longer than a year or two. I can’t… I can’t just… this isn’t about what I want.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” I pointed out. “What does that say about what I want?”

“It’s not just about wants,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Us being together is dangerous? To whom?”

“To you.”

“Why would it be dangerous for me?” I pushed.

He let me go and spun away from me. He looked like he wanted to shout and rage—maybe throw something—but he just clenched his fists and panted.

When he finally turned back to face me, he’d calmed down a little. “It’s dangerous… because… I… oh, Bruce is gonna kill me…” he whispered, shaking his head again. “Because I… am… the Red Hood.”

Two big confessions in one night. I felt a little dizzy and remembered to breathe.

“Red Hood. As in… the vigilante. And… the crime boss.”

“Vigilante, yes. Crime boss days are behind me. I was newly-back-from-the-dead and not in a stable mindset when I became a crime boss.” I decided not to ask about that. He huffed and sat on my coffee table, instead of the sofa, rubbing his temples. “And I wasn’t going to tell you about it, by the way. You’re the only normal friend I have right now. But it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If any of the rogues in this city knew I had someone I cared about as much as I care about—as much as I love you… you would not survive to the end of the year.”

I crossed from the front door to the sofa and sat on the sofa cushion closest to him, setting my hand on his knee. “Jay, I… I’m willing to risk it. To be with you. We just need to be careful—”

“I’m not willing to lose you. I would have been terrified before tonight if someone worse than me caught you. Knew you were just a friend. Now, though? Now, I don’t know what I’d do if you were captured, and that scares me even more. I saw you under me in that bedroom and I saw a future that was good—for the first time in the nine years since I was resurrected—but I can’t let that be my future. For your sake.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting. But I did tighten my grip on his knee hard and snap, “Get over yourself, Todd. You’re not the only one who gets to make this decision.”

“No, but apparently I’m the only one who can see things objectively enough to make the wise decision.”

It was my turn to want to throw something. “Jason. Peter. Todd. I don’t care about the danger. And I know you do. But do you know what it’d do to me, knowing that you love me and I feel the same, but you won’t let me be yours? Do you know what it would do to you? I know what it would do to me. It would eat me up inside day in and day out. I would sit here dying for you, waiting for you to come to your senses and carry me back into that bedroom to stay in there all night. But you never would. And I would just wait. I’d never date anyone else. If I tried, all I’d be doing was wishing they were you.

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. Some people are just born to sacrifice. To give up what they want—what they need—for the sake of other people. It’s the only choice we’re ever given, so it’s the choice we make over and over and over again. Sometimes people will split others into Givers and Takers. Those of us born to sacrifice are a step beyond even Givers. We’re the ones who give up everything for others. I’ve done it with my family my entire life. Everyone else always wanted so strongly that my only option was to give up my own. You’re the same, I see it every time I see you with your brothers.

“Jason, it’s time for us to Take. It’s time to let life give us something. This is the moment to be selfish. To put aside Batman and his zealous crusade for one damn moment and let yourself be happy.” I dug my fingernails into his knee through his sweats. “Be selfish for once, Jason.”

He finally looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t,” he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and sighed loudly through them. “Yes, you can. If you’re waiting for my consent, you’ve more than got it. I’m telling you now to give yourself consent to want. To take. Get over this hold out that a double life has on you and—mmph!”

He cut me off by slamming his lips against mine, surging off the coffee table and straddling me on the sofa. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me to one side, sitting on the sofa and guiding me to straddle himself. His hands were splayed over my shoulder blades. I twisted his white streak through my fingers. Our breath shuddered in and out of our lungs. I parted my lips slightly and ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips.

They opened immediately and let me in. I sighed out my nose. “Please ruin our friendship,” I breathed into his lips. “This is so much better.”

He snickered out his nose, smiling. “Does your consent to let me want you include me carrying you back into that bedroom and neither of us leaving until dawn?” He nodded toward my room.

My body shivered. Not from cold. Excitement. Electricity.

“Definitely,” I said breathlessly.

His hands slid from my shoulder blades and down to my legs. He held them and stood up. I hooked my ankles around his back, locking my arms’ grip around his neck.

He carried me to my room, kicked the door shut, and laid me gently on the messed-up bedsheets and disarrayed pillows. On all fours above me, my legs around his waist, he kissed me. Gently, at first, but he quickly grew hungry. His hands worked their way under my shirt, callused palms scraping slightly against my skin.

“Still okay with this?” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, unable to even speak loud enough to be heard from inches away.

He smiled. Wicked delight flickering on his face. “Well, get ready for me to call you mine. Because I am all yours.”

I smiled. “I’m yours, Jason.”

#Movie Night Pillow Fight #Version 2 #Movie Night Pillow Fight Version 2 #Jason Todd #Jason Todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #dc imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 1]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Original Idea: This

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 3,257 words, which is a lot. Um... yeah. This is definitely a little more... “risque” than my general brand of Fluff Without Plot. Read at your own risk? Apparently I’ve been in a mood. Version 2 will be up tomorrow, probably (will be linked here once it’s posted, too). They start the exact same but change about halfway through. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-Attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.” He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them. “I’m so sorry for—”

“Oh, stop talking!” I cut him off, tickling him again.

“What? I let you go without even vengeance and you insist on the tickling?”

“Ha-ha! I am triumphant!” I exclaimed.

“No—no, stop!” He pleaded, laughing so hard his eyes were screwed shut. “This is not proper behavior! If I don’t take vengeance you can’t—”

“Yes I can! Your fault you didn’t get your payback,” I retorted.

“Stopitstopitstopit!”

“Never!” I cackled.

Lashing out, Jason grabbed my wrists. It took less than a second for him to be on top of me again, trapping my legs and pinning my hands over my head. “Your naughty little hands are going up here where they belong, brat,” he said.

We were both breathing hard, again. I was grinning. Jason’s smirk was smug that he’d overpowered me. As if I’d ever actually stood a chance against his strength. “Let me go,” I said.

“No. I don’t trust you enough.”

“Wow. Six years of being my best friend and you don’t trust me? After everything we’ve been through together?”

“Not with your naughty hands being in a tickling mood tonight,” he replied.

I rolled my eyes. “Not my fault I’m taking advantage of one of the few times you’ve been ticklish,” I said.

He sighed. “What should I do to you, hmm? What… should I do… to you?” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. Husky and rough. He bent his elbows as he spoke, bending over me closer. My heart was pounding in my chest.

I giggled.

“Why are you giggling? Do you enjoy being pinned down like this?”

“Oh I definitely plead the fifth,” I said.

“Weirdo,” he accused. I didn’t bother contradicting him or denying. He took a deep breath. “Although… having you here like this, panting, blushing, eyes hooded as you stare up at me… it’s, uh… you…” He chuckled slightly, as though in disbelief. “You look stunning, right now. In fact, I… I don’t ever want to forget what you look like, right here. Right now. In this one, short moment.” His eyes swept my face, down my neck, flicking to my tangled necklace.

“Do you mean that?” I asked breathlessly. My blood was on fire and I felt like my heart was trying to escape with how hard it slammed itself against my ribs.

“What? Of course I mean it,” Jason replied. “How could I not? I would never lie to you about something like this.” He took another deep breath. “This is going to sound crazy, and please don’t get mad at me, but… I think… having you right here, under me, looking up at me like that… it feels so right.”

I could barely hear him over the pulse beating in my ears, but his words made it beat louder. “So, what about your revenge?”

“Um… I don’t… I don’t know what I want right now.”

I stared deep into his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, you do,” I said. A statement.

“Huh?” He scrunched his eyebrows as I lowered my raised one. “Well… I can’t think of anything. Except for…” His voice dropped back to that husky whisper. “For…” His elbows bent further and our torsos pushed together completely. “I… I… oh, screw it.”

His lips pressed against mine. Lightning crackled through my veins as my eyelids fluttered shut. Everything was alive. Like my body had been waiting for this very moment to truly come to life after slumbering for almost two-and-a-half decades. We were both still breathing a little hard, sucking in air through our noses, but neither wanting to let go. He moaned a little into the kiss, and I kissed him harder.

“Oh, God…” he breathed between kisses. I caught surprise and what might have been relief in the tone. “Your lips are so soft… so… addictive.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. I opened my eyes to see him, chest heaving, staring at me. His pupils were dilated so far I could barely see the blue.

He crashed into me again, and I let him, arching my back in an attempt to get a better angle. I moaned as he caught my lower lip between both of his and tugged on it. I inhaled sharply. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised me.

I squirmed a little, trying to release my hands—I wanted to plunge them into his hair and hold onto his shoulders tight. But he didn’t release me. He just moaned and pulled away a little. “No. You don’t get your hands back yet,” he said. “This is my payback for your tickling.” He transferred both of my wrists into one of his hands and used the other that he freed to cup the back of my neck and head, bringing it up to meet him again. Another coo of contentment, from him, then me.

His tongue teased at my lips and I parted them, letting him in. It explored the inside of my mouth greedily as his grip on the back of my head and wrists tightened. I arched my back again, pressing as much of my body as firmly against him as I could.

Then he was pulling away, loosing his hold. “Okay. I’m letting your hands go now,” he said. As he spoke, he released me. He climbed off of me. “I… need to… catch my breath.” He turned away from me and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

I waited for him to get up—to leave the room and ignore my pleas to stay—but he didn’t. Just sat there, not looking at me. We both were still panting. I swallowed hard, trying to put my heart back in my chest where it belonged, rather than let it keep beating in my throat. He pushed his hands through his hair.

“Look,” he began. “I… I shouldn’t have done that. That was… wrong of me. I shouldn’t have kissed you and I’m sor—ow!” He cringed away as I pinched him on the arm. “What was that for?”

“So you regret kissing me?” I snapped. The roaring in ears changed its tune to anger.

“No! I didn’t say that,” he retorted. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” He finally turned to face me. “This wasn’t some heat-of-the-moment thing. Sure, it was impulsive, but it really meant something to me. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since college.”

The roaring in my ears stopped completely and my heart finally calmed down a little. It was still racing, but it wasn’t dying to beat out of my chest. “Then… why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. I let my voice be quiet. Hoarse. I kept the shout I wanted to use clamped down.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gestured to the room around us with a spread of his hands. “I—I didn’t want to risk it. I didn’t want to risk… this. Us. You know wh—mmph!

I cut him off by rushing forward and kissing him again. “You should have,” I breathed against his lips. “Oh, God, you should have.”

He moaned and deepened the kiss, running his fingers through my hair as I held his head with one arm and his neck with the other.

When he pulled away, his cheeks were flushed. “Does… does this mean… we’re together now?” He brushed the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “Like, not just friends who kiss—or even screw—for fun. I don’t want that. I want… I want—I need something more from this. From us. Is that what you want too?”

“Absolutely,” I said breathlessly, refusing to let him go.

“You mean it? Really?”

“Yeah.” I nodded.

He relaxed in my arms, wrapping his around my waist. “Thank God,” he murmured into my chest. “I… I’ve never felt this happy before. I think my heart’s gonna beat right out of my chest.”

“Me too,” I said with a smile.

“I’ve waited years for this. Come here.” He reached up and kissed me again. Hard. Before catching my wrists and pushing my back flat onto the bed again.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What’s it look like? Payback for that pinch,” he replied. “These hands are going right here…” He pressed them into the mattress above my head, both wrists in one hand. “And they’re going to stay there until I’m done. This time, my revenge will be even sweeter…” His free hand dashed under my shirt, wrapping around my waist and pulling him close to me. “They say revenge is best served cold, but right now it’s been heated hotter than Hell with passion. What do you say? Will you have me?”

“Right here, right now,” I said.

He smiled. A wicked one. “Glad to hear it,” he whispered.

His lips found mine again. Lightning crackled in my veins. I moaned and pressed against him. I could stay right here, with him, for the rest of forever.

#Movie Night Pillow Fight #Version 1 #Movie Night Pillow Fight Version 1 #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Want You Back

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (little violence, little blood)

Original Idea: Exes-to-Lovers is kinda an underrated trope, when it’s done right.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is... 2,833 words. I wish I could say I’m sorry for it being long but I’m not. Have fun! @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“Oh shoot—hide me!” I hissed, ducking behind Daisy. She looked at me in confusion before glancing around the party.

She rolled her eyes. “Girl, you haven’t dated Jason in like a year. Can’t you at least try to be civil?”

“Oh trust me, I’d love nothing more than to be civil. Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to get back together with him. I thought we made each other happy. But he kept so many secrets and I can’t be in a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with me. We broke up so… explosively that I’m not sure we can speak nicely to each other,” I replied. “Just… block his view of me while I sneak into Jessie’s room, okay?”

Daisy heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. But hiding from him won’t do you any good.”

“It’ll do us both a world of good if it means I don’t have to talk to him.”

Daisy did as I asked and blocked Jason’s view of me until we got to the stairs. I bolted up them two at a time and ducked into Jessie’s room. The door had been closed but unlocked. Once I shut myself inside, I leaned against it and sighed.

The bookcase in Jessie’s room was more meant for displaying knick-knacks than holding books, so a quick glance at her collection revealed nothing worth reading. I sat on the floor next to her bed, on her fuzzy pink rug, and stared at the screensaver on her computer monitor—a bunch of bubbles floating around and bumping into each other, changing colors.

Why was Jason here? Jessie knew he and I fell out over a year ago. Did she invite him? Did her brother? That seemed more likely. Jessie probably didn’t even realize he was here.

No need to get angry at her.

I pulled out my phone. I had a few books on it. Kept them just for this reason. Hide from a party and make people think I was just on my phone. I didn’t trust reading fanfiction in public, so I only kept traditionally-published work in my phone’s files.

I’m not sure how long I read. A half-hour, probably.

I was startled by the door opening and closing. “Whew. Dodged a bullet there,” a familiar voice said with a sigh of relief.

I looked up in alarm.

Jason was leaning against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard.

I held still. Maybe if he didn’t hear me, he’d slip back out to the party after a moment and leave me alone—and we wouldn’t have to exchange words. I watched my phone screen dim, then shut off completely, while Jason just stood there.

He opened his eyes. His gaze landed on me. “O—oh,” he said. “I… I didn’t know you were in here.”

I nodded, slowly and once. “I figured,” I said flatly. Awkward. “Did… Jessie’s brother invite you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But… one of his ex-girlfriends from high school wouldn’t stop flirting with me. So I pretty much ran away. I thought this was a bathroom.” He gestured to the room around us. “Clearly, I was wrong.” He glanced at the door over his shoulder. “I would leave, but I don’t want that girl to come after me again. Think we can get along long enough to share?”

I pushed myself to my feet, tucking my phone in my pocket. “No need. Since I came in here to avoid you, I’ll just go back to the party—and you can stay here for the rest of the night, for all I care. I will say, though, the bathroom is the next door down.”

I moved to brush him out of the way to leave Jessie’s room, but he caught my wrist. “Babydoll, wait,” he said, voice soft.

I pulled out of his grip. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

“I miss you.” His big blue eyes were giving me puppy eyes.

“I miss you too. But you know perfectly well why I broke things off. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about why he disappears all the time—and clearly can’t keep his story straight. I thought we were happy together, Jason. But when you vanish for hours at a time with no word and come back with lame excuses, how was I supposed to trust you? I doubt you were cheating on me but how would I know? And what else was I supposed to think?” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push him away from the door—the man was 6’ and 225 pounds of muscle—but when I shoved he gave way.

I yanked open the door and shut it hard behind me. I stomped downstairs and back to the party.

“You see Jason?” Daisy asked. “He went upstairs a couple minutes ago.”

“We spoke,” I said shortly.

Daisy cringed. “Went that well, huh?”

“Part of me still loves him, but I’m definitely still ticked at him.”

She made a face. “Sorry,” she offered.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Anyway. Have you even seen Jessie or her brother?”

Daisy looked around. “I said hi to her when we first got here… but no, I haven’t seen her since,” she said. I followed her gaze. A sea of people in a small suburban house outside Gotham was pretty crowded for a party, and it was hard to see if Jessie and her brother Robert were even here anymore.

“Me neither,” I muttered.

“Wonder where they went,” Daisy mused.

“I mean, with the amount of people here, I’m not surprised I can’t see them.”

“Yeah…”

Somewhere nearby, I heard glass shattering. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good,” Daisy remarked. “If Jessie’s parents find out someone broke something—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a window crashed in right next to us. I shrieked and grabbed Daisy, dragging her away from the flying shards. Several of them splattered over my jacket and cascaded to the floor, but I was lucky not to get impaled by any of them. A dark figure in body armor landed on the carpet, holding a large assault rifle.

I put Daisy behind me and backed up a few steps as the music stopped. She was taller than me, but hunched over she could almost disappear behind me. At least, whoever the intruder was wouldn’t have a clear shot at her past me.

“I’m looking for Jessica and Robert Williams,” the intruder said, levelling his gun at the crowd. Someone screamed from near the stairs.

While the intruder’s attention was elsewhere, I snuck my phone out of my pocket and found Jason’s number. I sent a text as fast as I could. Get out of here. Shooter just broke in.

That was all I had the time for before slipping my phone back into my pocket like I never had it out. The intruder prowled around the crowd. “Jessica… Robert…” he singsonged. I held Daisy’s wrist behind me. “If you two don’t show yourselves in the next sixty seconds, I’m tearing up your friends.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the text on my watch. Jason Todd: I’m not leaving you.

I slid my phone out. You have to. At least call the cops.

The window on the other side of the living room shattered inward. Another dark figure swooped through and landed on the floor. My first thought was Batman—but as the figure straightened from his landing, I saw a red helmet glinting off the disco lights.

“Red Hood,” I breathed, in awe. I’d seen him a couple times. Imposing, tall, muscular. I’d only ever seen him from a distance. Seeing him up close was almost more terrifying.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,” Red Hood said to the intruder, voice being run through some sort of ring modulator to disguise it, “that it’s rude to gate crash a party?”

The intruder growled, “Red Hood,” like an animal. My blood ran a little colder.

Red Hood stepped forward, completely unfazed. “Get out now, and this doesn’t have to get any uglier than it already is.”

“What do you care, crime boss, that I get up to a little trouble?”

“I care because everyone knows my rules. No innocents get harmed. Look around you. This place is full of innocent people.” Red Hood gestured to the party crowd. For a moment I could have sworn the eyes of his helmet lingered on me. But he was probably looking at the window. “Get out before I haul you out in a body bag.” He whipped one of his massive handguns into his hand, cocking it with the other in one practiced, fluid motion.

The intruder levelled the assault rifle at Red Hood’s chest. “Make me,” he spat.

Red Hood shrugged. “Okay.”

Bang! His handgun went off. I jumped. The intruder dropped to the floor, his rifle spraying bullets briefly toward the ceiling before stopping when he hit the carpet in a splatter of blood.

Red Hood looked around. “Everyone okay?”

A few scattered nods.

“Good. Get out on the front lawn. Wait for the cops to show up. They should be here any second,” he ordered.

The crowd rushed out the front door, bottlenecking and slowing down. Daisy included. I stayed where I was, staring at Red Hood. He noticed me not moving and came over.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

I looked down, peeling my hand away from my right side to reveal the blood soaking my shirt. “His spray. It got me,” I said, voice hoarse. My head was light and fuzzy. Not from blood loss—not yet. More likely from the shock of getting hit.

His helmet tilted down and he looked at the wound. The ring modulator distorted his whispered swearing but I still figured out what he said. “We need to get you to the hospital. Like, ASAP. And I can’t take you on my bike. Did you drive here?”

I nodded. “My car—it’s the dark green Explorer half-a-block that way.” I pointed down the street to the left with my non-bloodstained hand.

Red Hood nodded. “Keys?”

I pulled them from my other pocket and passed them over.

He swung me up into his arms and left. The crowd had cleared the front door in the time it took us to talk, so he marched across the front lawn and headed for my car. I heard Daisy call my name, but didn’t have the mental strength to call back.

As he walked down the block, each step jolting my wound, he said, “Batman, I’ve got a GSW. Taking her to the hospital. There was a hostile at a party in the suburbs. I took him down and the GCPD is on its way, but I’m moving the wounded girl.” He paused for a moment, but I couldn’t hear anything. “Yes, it’s a girl. She’s got her car here. I’m taking her in that.” Another pause. “Copy that. I’ll check in later.”

Red Hood set me gently in the passenger seat and laid it as flat as it could go. “Just hold on, babydoll. Hold on,” he said softly.

I scrunched my eyebrows as he shut the door and circled the hood to get in the driver’s seat. Once he gunned the engine, I put my clean hand on the arm of his brown leather jacket. “Why’d you call me… babydoll?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know your name, miss, and I thought it’d be more comforting.” The car pulled away from the curb.

“You just heard my friend shout my name.”

He swore again and sighed. “Fine. Just don’t freak out. You’ll lose more blood.” He pulled his helmet off with one hand. “Couldn’t see as well to drive with that thing on anyway.”

Jason’s tousled black hair, white streak at the front, puffed up a bit as the helmet freed itself from his head. I tried to sit up, but fire burned in my side and I flopped back down before I’d even moved an inch. “What?” I squeaked. “Jay?”

His eyes flicked to me briefly. Deep blue and… there was something melancholy in them. “Yeah, babydoll,” he said. “It’s me.” There was his sad smile. One I’d seen many times. “You haven’t called me Jay since…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but I remembered when I’d stopped calling him Jay and “my Jay baby.” It was about a month before I finally had enough of his excuses and lies and broke up with him.

“Is this… is this why you always disappeared for hours and came back with excuses?”

“And could never seem to keep my story straight? Yeah. I wanted…” He sighed. “I wanted to tell you so many times but Batman said it would only be safe for me to tell you if we ever got married. And even then you’d still be in danger. You made me so happy and it killed me to lie to you. Killed me even more to lose you. When you broke things off… I am not proud to admit that every criminal I fought on patrol that night went to the hospital with more broken bones than I usually leave. I love you. Still. So much so that this past year has been… empty. Without you.”

I cleared my throat of the tears clogging it. “I said to Daisy earlier tonight, when I first saw you at the party, that I’d love nothing more than to get back together with you. But I couldn’t if you were going to keep things from me again.”

“Don’t get my hopes up like that while you’re in shock, please babydoll. Because I don’t know if you mean it or if you’re babbling from the shock and have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I told you I miss you,” I pointed out.

“That doesn’t have to mean you still love me or want me back.”

“But I do. To both. Love you and want you back. You can be honest with me now. But, we can talk about it when I don’t feel like passing out from pain.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Don’t you dare pass out on me. If you do, you might not wake up again. Stay awake, babydoll. Stay awake. Please.” His grip tightened on my fingers. I tried to nod, but I wasn’t feeling well. My vision was a little blurry and I was tired.

“I’ll try,” I said.

We kept driving. Jason had fallen into pensive silence.

“Alright. We’re here,” he said. He parked my car and put his helmet back on. Then he ducked out, circled the hood, and picked me up to carry me into the ER, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just stay awake. I’ll come visit—as me—later, okay?”

I nodded. “I’d like that,” I said.

Automatic glass doors slid open. Someone yelped. “GSW,” Jason said, voice modulated again. “Right side. No exit wound.”

“Get her on a gurney!” a nurse called over his shoulder.

I hugged Jason tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “Of course, babydoll.” His voice was soft. Comforting.

He set me on a gurney, and I watched him stride out of the hospital as they rolled me away.

—

When I woke up after surgery, Jason was there. Alone. Blue jeans, red T-shirt, hair a mess, and dozing in the armchair. “You look like crap,” I croaked.

He jolted and sat up. “Speak for yourself, babydoll,” he retorted. But he spoke gently. “Your family’s down in the cafeteria, getting some breakfast. I told them I’d keep you company. Your mom looked like she might murder me just for suggesting it, but I told her we made up enough to be friends at the party. So she—begrudgingly, mind you—allowed me to stay.”

“Just friends?” I asked.

He smiled and sat forward to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “For now. You said we’d talk about it more when you were feeling better.” He leaned back in the armchair. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Still not great, but the shock has worn off, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“I meant it, by the way,” I said. “That you can be honest with me now, so if you’re willing, we can try again.”

Jason met my eyes. There was hope in his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I smiled. “Absolutely. I told you before: I miss you.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to my lips. The EKG monitor beeped a little faster as my heartrate spiked. I grabbed his shoulders as he moved away, and pulled him back to me. He smiled into my lips as I kissed him again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He tilted his head for a better angle, and I pushed one of my hands into his hair.

The door to the hospital room opened. “What’s going on in here?” Mom demanded.

#Want You Back #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #DC #DC Imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

My Favorite Smile

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one has a couple ✨swear words✨ in it lol. I don’t usually write them out, but sometimes you just gotta say what you mean)

Original Idea: X (Obsessed with this channel right now)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,182 words... it’s a longer one again. I casually wrote this in, like, two hours. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

Holding his coffee and croissant, Jason looked around the crowded café for a place to sit. Every table was occupied by at least one person, and the rules of personal space in public said the couches were full, with one person sitting on either end.

His eyes fell on a table with a single occupant.

His heart stuttered to a stop. Wait… is that her? Damn, she looks good this time. He scoffed at himself. Who am I kidding? She looks good every time. Should I talk to her? Should I tell her? She didn’t believe me last time… and I don’t know if I can stand another lifetime without her… but last life we didn’t meet till I was almost fifty. I really wasn’t expecting to find her this early.

He straightened up and strode over to her table. “Excuse me, is it alright if I sit here? The café’s pretty crowded and the other tables are full.”

She looked up and Jason’s brain stopped working as she met his eyes. She was just as incredible as she always was. Thousands upon thousands of years, and he still never got over how beautiful she was. “Sure, go ahead,” she said with a smile before going back to her phone.

—

“I’m Jason, by the way,” the man said, sitting down.

I glanced back up and gave him my name in return.

He smiled. He had a handsome smile. Just looking at him… something tugged in the back of my mind. “That’s a pretty name,” he said.

My ears warmed and I looked away. “Thanks,” I muttered. I looked back at him. “Sorry if this sounds… weird—but have we met before?” I cringed but smiled. If we had…oh it’d be so embarrassing if I’d forgotten him. And a man as handsome as him—how could I have forgotten?

But a look of delight crossed his face, before being replaced by one of neutrality. “Not in this lifetime,” he replied.

“Kind of an odd way to word it,” I remarked before I could overthink whether that sounded really rude or not.

Jason’s ears turned red. “Well… yeah I guess so. Sorry.” He looked down at his coffee cup and croissant and chose to take a sip of his drink. After swallowing, he looked back up at me. “This is probably gonna sound really creepy, but please just hear me out for a few minutes. Do you believe in soulmates?”

I reached up and scratched an itch just behind my ear. “I mean… kind of? I think maybe they exist for some people, and other people could be matched equally well with multiple potential partners,” I said.

His shoulders slouched with a sigh of what might have been relief. “Thank goodness,” he said. He met my eyes. “Because… we’re soulmates. You and I. Sometimes—very rarely—two people are so destined to be together, that they’re reborn over and over to stay together throughout thousands of years’ worth of lifetimes. Sometimes we both remember, sometimes only one of us does. I don’t think there’s ever been a lifetime where neither of us remember. Besides the first, I guess. Back when we didn’t know we’d be reborn. We never look the same twice—different bodies, different backgrounds. But we always have the same soul.”

A reasonable person would have thought he was making up a really long, bad pickup line. But I stared at him with rapt attention. Like some missing puzzle piece I’d been looking for my entire life fell into place. It just sounded… right.

“How do we find each other, if we look different every time?”

He took a deep breath. “Well… when one or both of us remember, we can… kind of sense it? Kind of see it? Like, right now, I see you, but I also see every face of yours that I’ve seen across every lifetime.” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes we don’t. Find each other, I mean. The distance between where we’re born or the timing of our rebirths keep us apart. But there’s only been… three of those, if I remember right.” He laughed. “So glad you believed me this time. It would have sucked if you got a restraining order—because those are a thing now—and I had to spend this life without you.”

I leaned forward, shoving my phone in my pocket. “Tell me more,” I said.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Um… I don’t know. The beginning? Our first life?”

He nodded. “Ancient Greece,” he said. “Like, really early in Ancient Greece’s history. The gods blessed us. Bound our souls for eternity. Your hair is actually the same color now as it was back then. Kind of a… nostalgic favorite of mine. You’re absolutely stunning every time I see you, but I have some favorites. You do too.”

I snickered. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Well… I always think you’re adorable with dimples or freckles. Green eyes are a favorite of mine too. And your current hair color is my favorite. There were also a few times where you were a little taller than me. Those were nice. You’re most comfortable to hug that way. But, without fail, every single lifetime I see your smile and I think, ‘That one. That one’s my new favorite.’” He chuckled. “As for you, you’ve told me that you like me best with brown eyes—even though you don’t like brown eyes normally. Um… you also like it when my hair is curly.” He gestured to his black hair, slightly curled, with two white curls arcing down the center of his forehead. “You told me… seven lifetimes ago? That you like me best with piercings and tattoos, but when I brought it up last lifetime you said even when I have them I still look like, and I quote, a ‘giant nerd.’”

We both laughed. Jason sighed and shook his head.

“Then again, you said that was your favorite during our pirate lifetime. And I can also say hot damn you looked good with tattoos and a big hat.”

I gasped out a laugh. “We were pirates?”

He laughed too. “Yeah. Well, you were. To start with, anyway. You and your crew were visiting my town and you, absolutely drunk, stumbled into my house. I was a carpenter that time. Thank the gods we both remembered that lifetime or I probably would have shot you. You spent half the night drunkenly blathering about how much you hated my hair when it was long the way it was and that you’d cut it off if I didn’t. The next morning, when you’d sobered up, you apologized. And I’d said it was fine. And… you asked me to come with you. I’ve spent dozens of lifetimes endlessly in love with you. So, like the lovesick fool I am and was, I said yes.

“It… was not a long lifetime. Pirates rarely made it to old age. We were both killed when a Royal Navy ship attacked us. I went down first. You told me in our next lifetime that you single-handedly killed half of that crew’s sailors in revenge even though you knew you’d see me again—because you’d been having so much fun that life and they ruined it. Eventually their captain killed you himself.” He took a bite of his croissant.

It was certainly a lot to take in. But everything he said was so vivid… I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination coming up with the images or… memories that had merely been locked away somewhere deep inside. The sea. The deck of a ship. An octopus tattoo on my left forearm, tentacles reaching to the back of my hand, a similar one on his tanned, scarred neck. Curly auburn hair, a scruffy beard. Brown leather coat and blood under his nails. Pierced ear and eyebrow. A tattoo of a mermaid with a face and wild hair that I knew must have been mine on his right thigh as we found alone time together in my cabin—a pile of leather clothes in a heap on the floor, topped by a big hat with a big feather.

I met his eyes again. “Tell me about another one.”

He smiled. “Well… there was another time I was a soldier. You remembered. I didn’t. I passed through your town on my way to report for duty, and the weather got bad. Your family owned a tavern that doubled as an inn. So, that was where I stayed. You didn’t tell me. I fell in love with you anyway. You would tell me stories and sing for me and make me food in private. When the weather improved, I went off to war and, miraculously, I survived. Even though I spent most of my time that fight thinking about you. I came back to your inn and asked you to marry me. You said yes. We were married soon after. I had to leave a lot. Fighting battles I didn’t care about. Eventually, I came home injured and dying. You held my hand and promised you’d see me soon. I thought you meant heaven or just said it to comfort me. You never told me we were endlessly-reborn soulmates.

“When I was about fifteen my next lifetime, all my memories came back. We both remembered that time, actually. When we ran into each other again we got into such a big argument about you not telling me. Literally picked up right where we left off. Two twenty-year-olds bickering like the old married couple we were. The life after I don’t remember is always a bit of a wild ride as all my memories come back. I imagine it’s similar for you. It’ll be similar for you.”

He reached across the table and took my hand. I squeezed his fingers. Our hands fit together perfectly. I wondered why I’d told him I liked him best with brown eyes when his blue eyes were absolutely gorgeous. “So… what now?” I asked.

He made a face. “Beginnings are always hard when one of us doesn’t remember. Because I have thousands of years of love for you, and you don’t even know me.” His fingers tightened around mine. “I’d like to take you out on a date, if you’ll let me.”

“Does it count as a first date?”

He smiled. It was a sad smile. “It can. It does for this life.”

“Have we… ever had children? Together?”

Jason regarded me thoughtfully. “We have,” he said. “But our bloodlines never last long. Usually we’re lucky to get great-grandchildren. We’re blessed to be together forever, but our families die off quickly. You speculated once that it’s the blessing’s attempt to make sure we’re not reborn into our own bloodline.”

“So we have no living descendants.”

“No. It’d be a little weird if we did. Like ‘Hey, kiddo, you’re our great-great-great-grandson! I know we’re younger than you but trust us!’” Jason laughed.

I could get drunk on that laugh. “I’d… I’d like to go on that date.”

He looked elated—and relieved. “Me too. I’d like to get to know you again.” He glanced around the crowded café. “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere quiet and I can tell you more stories about our lives? You’ve always been the far superior storyteller, but I learned from the best.”

I smiled. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here. I want to hear everything.”

He helped me to my feet. I gathered my jacket, cup, and phone. “Great. I can’t wait to tell you about the time I was a magician.”

I giggled. “My place or yours?”

“Mine. I have a memento from our most recent past life that I tracked down. I’d like you to have it.”

“What is it?”

Jason didn’t answer immediately. Just held my hand as we left the café. Gotham’s overcast autumn sky was chilly. “I… I want it to be a surprise but I’m also too excited to tell you.” He bit his lower lip, staring at me. “Gah. Fine. It’s your wedding ring. I found it at an antique shop not far from where our oldest niece lived. We didn’t have any kids, last life. We didn’t meet till I was forty-nine and you were forty-three. We both decided it was too late for kids. But I had a few nieces and nephews. Our oldest niece was in charge of our estate. We died in the eighties. But I found your ring. You can use it again, eventually, if you want. Or we can get you a new one.” His face reddened. “I don’t mean to presume. But I don’t know if I can live without you this lifetime after having you for such a short time last life.”

I squeezed his hand. “Let’s try that first date first. I feel this pull toward you I can’t explain, but we’ll build up to the soulmate thing. Okay?” I smiled at him.

—

Jason couldn’t help but stare at her. Those eyes, that stunning face. This one, he thought. This smile is my favorite.

#My Favorite Smile #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Under the Moon

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers - Peter Parker/Spider-Man

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I’ve been in a mood recently.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I actually put forth a decent effort this time to make it as gender-neutral as possible. It’s probably not perfect but I tried.

^^^^^

A twinge in the muscles of my back jarred me from my sleep.

$#!+ did I forget again? I thought. Another spasm arched me off my mat. I fumbled through my bag for my phone. No service. Of course not. With shaking fingers, somehow I managed to unlock it. Moon Tracker was waiting for me on my home page. It launched and actually loaded, despite the lack of service.

Tonight’s Moon: Full read the screen.

I swore aloud. MJ didn’t wake.

Scrambling out of the tent, I stumbled through the dark to the tent next to ours. “Peter!” I hissed, knocking a knuckle against the tent pole. “Pete!”

I heard a groan. “What?” Peter complained.

“I need your help. I need you to come with me. Now.”

The tent he shared with Ned zipped open. Ned was curled up in a corner and clearly Peter had been sprawled out. Peter slipped out, barely managing to get into his sneakers, and zipped the tent shut behind him. “What’s goin’ on?” He yawned.

I recoiled as pain wracked through me. “We need to get away from camp—and I need you to web me to a tree,” I replied.

“What?”

“Now!”

My tone scared him into movement. He grabbed my hand and we ran from the campsite. I stumbled more than anything. My control over my own body was slipping. I moaned in pain. Peter looked back at me.

“What’s happening to your eyes?”

“No time to explain. Keep moving,” I panted.

We blindly wove through the woods until we were over a mile away. I found a sturdy tree and backed against it.

“Web me here,” I said. “Just cover me.”

“Why?”

I looked up. The moon was starting to peek above the hills, casting its light through the woods. “Just do it!” I cried out—stifling the sound as much as I could—and slammed into the tree. “Now!”

Peter’s webshooters activated and he spewed webs at me. I gave him a small smile.

Then I thrashed in pain—

And everything went black.

—

Peter stared as his friend’s body began to change. Claws broke through fingers. Fangs replaced teeth. A snout elongated from the face. Thick, brown-and-black hair sprouted. Pajamas started to disappear under the hair.

Until, instead of a human, Peter was staring at a wolf.

An enormous wolf. Easily twice the size of a regular wolf—and he’d found out that wolves were twice as big as he’d thought not too long ago—and covered in grey fur. The beast’s paws were wide and ended in long dark claws sharp enough to tear flesh like cotton candy. Thankfully they were positioned too awkwardly to reach the webs holding it.

“Gah! What the he—” He cut himself off as the wolf snarled at him, writhing against the webs. He applied another layer just to be safe. “Since—since—since when could you do—” The moonlight shone brighter, catching his attention. He peered up.

The moon was a massive disc—full and shining silver-white down against the tree trunk.

The wolf in front of him seemed transfixed by it, staring up with a melancholy whine softly escaping its throat. It tried again to escape the webs, but only half-heartedly.

Peter whooshed out a breath as realization struck him like a blow from the Hulk. “You’re a werewolf,” he whispered.

The wolf whimpered and then growled. Peter stepped back.

“I’m not sleeping tonight, am I?” He asked.

The wolf didn’t reply.

Which was probably a good thing, because if it did he probably would have screamed loud enough to wake up their friends over a mile away—and every big nasty in the forest. And he doubted his werewolf friend would protect him.

The wolf’s amber eyes were watching him suspiciously. But Peter just sat down and yawned again. “You and I have known each other for like ten years now. You’re in on my secret. Why didn’t you ever tell me yours?” He stared at the wolf, who was still seething at being trapped, but not fighting against the webs. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Again, the wolf made no reply. Just turned those amber eyes up to the moon. Peter looked up at it too. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. Especially on nights like tonight. When there aren’t any clouds.”

The wolf whined like a puppy—and Peter had to remind himself to not tear off the webs to cuddle into that thick, soft-looking fur. That werewolves probably didn’t have any human memories when they were in their wolf form. He leaned back on his hands. “You’re probably not gonna remember this, so I may as well tell you: I’ve actually had a crush on you since like seventh grade. I know we’ve been friends for longer than that but…” He shrugged. The wolf kept staring at the moon. “I don’t know. Something changed that year. I saw you in the gym with the ballroom dance club, teaching some poor dude how to waltz when I stayed late for robotics, and it was like this… like a lightbulb went off in my head. You know? Suddenly it was like I was really seeing you for the first time. Like I caught a glimpse of the best pieces of your soul.

“And I’ve never been the same since. Never looked at you the same way. I notice the grace you use when you move. Even if you’re clumsy sometimes. But I see your compassion too. Your care. Like once I started looking, I couldn’t stop.”

The wolf didn’t even react to him at all.

Peter sighed. “I’ll keep an eye on you tonight. I promise. You won’t be able to get out or hurt anything. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

—

I came to under the pale orange light of dawn. The last dregs of dissolving web fluid clung to my pajamas. I felt drained. Like I always did the morning after a full moon.

“Hey, you’re up!” Peter said happily. I turned. He was sitting on the forest floor a few feet away, using a Bunsen burner camping “stove” to heat a small pot of water. Two paper cups were sitting near him, plastic spoons poking out of the top. I slumped against the tree trunk. “I’m making some cocoa. Want some?”

I watched him pour the water in the cups, adding packets of cocoa mix and stirring carefully. I didn’t have the energy to actually reply.

He handed me one of the cups. “This should warm you up. It’s a little chilly.”

“Did you get any sleep?” I croaked.

“I did, actually. See, the thing is, my webs dissolve in two hours. On average, it takes fourteen minutes for a person to fall asleep, and a single sleep cycle is ninety minutes—hour and a half. So I used my webshooters to set timers. An almost-two-hour one to know when to replace the webs around you, and another to wake me up roughly an hour and forty-four minutes after I set it. So I slept between replacing your webs and I actually feel alright. Probably better than you anyway.”

I grunted agreement at that. I felt like I’d been trampled by a herd of elephants.

I tried a sip of the cocoa. Not too hot, but enough to warm my core. I sighed, content with the taste and warmth.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Peter asked quietly. I met his eyes. He had the expression of a sad puppy on his face.

I huffed a little, stirring my cocoa. “My secret isn’t like yours, Peter,” I said. “You keep your secret to keep the people you care about safe. I do too, but mine—mine is different. You’re keeping the people you love safe from villains who want to hurt you by hurting them. I’m keeping the people I care about safe from me. Because I’m… we’re classified as monsters, Peter. Werewolves, vampires—we’re referred to as monsters the same way humans are mammals. I never told you because what I can do… it’s worse than what you can do. You’re a superhero. I’m a lycanthrope. Yours is a mutation of your DNA. Mine is literally a curse. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you looking at me like I’m…”

“A monster?” Peter finished gently.

I almost growled at the word. “Yeah,” I admitted begrudgingly, taking a sip of my cocoa. “You have no idea how hard it is for someone like me to make or keep friends. I’ve spent most of my life super lonely. Then I met you and Ned and MJ and I felt like… like finally I could have some friends. I was turned into a werewolf when I was four-years-old, Peter. Thirteen years, I’ve suffered with this alone. My parents know but they don’t talk about it. They pretend like my curse doesn’t exist. Then I make friends for the first time in my life and still know, deep down, that I’ll never belong with them. Not really. Even when you told me about you, I knew I still wasn’t like you. I never would be. So I hoped I could just be friends as long as I could with you guys and… find a way to live with it when you all eventually left me.”

I downed the rest of my cup and stood. My joints ached.

“We should go back to camp before Ned and MJ wonder where we’ve gone,” I said.

Not waiting for Peter, I headed back the way we’d come, following my own scent through the trees, several hours old now, but doubly punctuated by Peter’s as he’d gone back to get the burner and the cocoa.

He caught up to me, jogging a little. “For the record, even though you scared the pants off of me last night when I saw you turn, I don’t think you’re a monster,” he said.

I managed a small smile. “Thanks,” I replied.

“And, also, I’m not going to leave you. You’re still my friend and I’m not scared. I can lift… like, a hundred times more than my body weight. I think I can handle you as a wolf. You’re not gonna hurt me and I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s… that’s a relief to hear,” I admitted. We kept hiking back. “Do I remember you saying you’ve had a crush on me since we were in seventh grade? Or did I dream that up?”

Peter swore under his breath. A normal person wouldn’t have heard it, but I did. Wolf’s hearing. “Uh… I think you dreamt that up,” he said.

Liar. But if he wasn’t ready to tell me human-face-to-human-face, I’d give him time. He’d taken my secret better than I could have asked for or anticipated. I could let him admit his feelings whenever he was ready. I owed him that much.

When we got back to camp, MJ was sitting on a tree stump, munching on some dry cereal. “Where have you two been all night?” she asked.

#Under the Moon #Spider-Man #spider-man imagine #spider-man fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #Spider Man #Spider Man Imagine #spider man fanfiction #Peter Parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Don’t Tell Your Brother

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (this one’s got a bad word in it lol XD)

Original Idea: These kinds of stories are always fun. Either best friend’s big brother or big brother’s best friend... yeah, I’m weak for it. XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is short but sweet. At about 1,200 words, this is about the length a lot of my older one-shots were before everything started getting carried away. I’ve had it in my head for several days and finally got it written down. @jason-redhood @welovegroot

^^^^^

Knock-knock-knock!

Jason looked up from his book. $#!+, did Bruce find this place? he thought. He got up and crept to the door and looked through the peephole.

Worse. It’s Roy’s kid sister, he thought. I know you’ve liked her forever but she’s still your best friend’s little sister. And said best friend will murder your face off if he catches you flirting with her. Be cool but friendly and don’t flirt. Say something like, “Hey Harper, how you been?”

He opened the door. “Sup, brat?”

Aaand you blew it. Great job, Todd.

—

I smirked. “Not much, how about you—dick?”

“Dick’s my brother’s name. I’m Jason,” he teased.

“Oh I know. If I wanted to insult you by calling you one of your brothers’ names I’d call you Tim.”

He paused. Offense crept over his expression. “That world work,” he admitted.

Both of us laughed. He leaned against the doorframe. “So I’m guessing you’re looking for Roy?”

“Guessed right. Seen him?”

“He’s passed out in the spare room, sleeping off a hangover.”

My face dropped. “Has he been drinking again?”

Jason hunched his shoulders and cringed guiltily. “Well… it was my birthday like a month ago and Roy couldn’t come to Gotham to celebrate with me so since he was dropping by we decided to…” He cleared his throat. “Well. We went to karaoke.”

I snorted so hard I hurt my throat. “Karaoke. You took my tone-deaf brother to karaoke?”

“In my defense it was one of those private room places. So no one had to hear it. And the tablet that lets you pick the songs also lets you order drinks from the front. We thought we’d just get a margarita and call it good; but Roy ordered me another one for my birthday and after that we lost track. I tend to hold my liquor better than he does, so… yeah he’s sleeping off a hangover and I’m not as bad.” He shrugged. “Come on in. Let me get you something to drink. Water? Tea? Soda? Coffee?”

“Water’s fine,” I said. Jason let me into his apartment and I stood awkwardly on the welcome mat.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable!” He waved toward the sofa as he walked to the kitchen.

I stared at his back. His blue T-shirt stretched taut between his shoulder blades. The way his jeans hugged his thighs tight enough to show off his muscles but loose enough to be comfortable.

I stumbled to the couch and sat down. Get a hold of yourself, Harper, I thought harshly. He’s your brother’s best friend! It doesn’t matter how hot you think he is—Roy will kill you if he catches you flirting with him!

Jason came and sat on the other end of the sofa, handing me a water bottle. “Alright. I gotta ask. Batman doesn’t even know I have this place. How did you?” He draped his arm over the back of the sofa so his hand was inches from my shoulder.

“Roy told me. Said if he went MIA and didn’t check in I should look for him in a couple different places. I knew he was in Gotham so I figured I’d check here. I haven’t heard from him in almost a day so I came running. Wanted to make sure he wasn’t, you know, dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Nah. Not on my watch.” Jason fixed me with a stare. “You’re a good sister to him, brat.”

I snorted. “Do you ever change?” I asked. “Always mean to me!”

“I’m not mean to you—I’m teasing you. I’m a big brother too, I know the difference.”

“You absolutely do not. I’ve watched the way your family works. All of you were an only child before being thrown together as siblings and none of you inherently knew how to handle it. I was adopted too—but since it was when I was a baby and Roy was little he learned how to be a brother fast and I never knew anything but being a little sister. Believe me when I say, you’re not teasing. You’re being mean.”

Jason lounged with a characteristic devil-may-care posture. “Well. Maybe I’d like to be nice to you but I’m scared that if your brother saw me being nice he’d misconstrue it as flirting and murder my face off. Did that ever occur to you?”

“Why would it?” I retorted. “You’ve never been nice to me. Mildly friendly when Roy’s not around maybe, but never nice. Doesn’t matter how hot you are if your personality is that of a—” I cut myself off and swore under my breath as an impish smirk started pulling on Jason’s face. “That didn’t come out right. What I meant was—”

“Little Harper thinks I’m hot,” Jason interrupted, tone full of relish.

I rolled my eyes. “This was a mistake. Tell Roy I’m staying at Daisy’s.” I got up and stalked to the door.

Jason somehow beat me to it, blocking my path. The guy had to be over two-hundred pounds. No way I could shove him out of the way. I was strong for my size—but not that strong. Not when his feet were planted like that. “Come on, Harper. I’m just messing with you.” He was still smirking, arms crossed over his chest in the way boys did to make their arm muscles look bigger. I wondered, vaguely, if his shirt sleeves hurt him where they were digging into his muscles at the seams.

“Let me out,” I said flatly. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Jason sighed, dropping his arms and pushing his hands into his pockets. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I run my mouth a lot. I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.” He huffed. “Can I tell you something?”

“I have no choice. I can’t leave. You’re in the way.”

Jason glanced at the ceiling with a tiny smile. “True.” His expression turned grave. “Truth of the matter is, I find you… really attractive. Have ever since we first met.” If it weren’t Jason Todd, I would have thought his face was turning red. “I guess you could say I have a crush on you. I just never said anything because I know Roy wouldn’t approve.”

“You’d think he would,” I remarked. “You’d think he’d know both of us well enough to know whether or not we’d actually work well with one another.”

“You’d think,” Jason said.

Well, he admitted it first. Nothing to lose now, I thought. “For what it’s worth,” I said, “I have a crush on you, too.”

His face lit up. “Really?” I nodded. He gathered me into a hug. “That’s all I could have ever hoped for.” He glanced over the top of my head toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, then looked back at me. “Can… can I kiss you?” He bit his lower lip, looking awkward.

I smiled. “You can,” I said with a smile.

Beaming, he leaned down. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell your brother.”

Then he was kissing me. His body was warm where he was pressed against me and his lips were soft. I took a deep breath through my nose as I wrapped my arms around him, eyelids fluttering closed. He smelled musky and a bit citrus-y and I could taste his chapstick. Vanilla, if I wasn’t mistaken.

Our arms tightened around one another. Jason tilted his head for a better angle and cooed softly. I sighed. Content.

He pulled away after several long moments. “I think we have some things to talk about, Harper.”

“We absolutely do, Todd,” I replied.

#Don't Tell Your Brother #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood imagine #red hood fanfiction #DC #DC imagine #DC FanFiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Diplomatic Daemati Part 2

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: @itscheybaby recommended doing more parts for this series and I had more ideas so we’re going for it. Part 1 Here

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) At 2,310 words this isn’t quite as long as the first one, but given I wrote 1,200 words per one shot for years, I’m apparently doing better lol

^^^^^

The week between the High Lords’ meeting and my first visit to the Night Court passed quickly. My soldier training was temporarily halted in lieu of diplomatic training. As well as Thesan giving me the rundown of what was known about the reclusive Night Court.

The day arrived for my departure, and I realized I didn’t know how I was supposed to get there. I could fly—but that would involve crossing the Day Court territory and would take more than all day. Hours longer than I could afford without angering Rhysand. Rhys, I guess. I didn’t have enough power to winnow, either, but I doubted Thesan would know where to drop me off; if he could even take me at all.

I mused over breakfast how I was supposed to get there when a crack of thunder almost made me drop my toast.

High Lord Rhysand stood in the mess hall otherwise empty of any legion soldiers besides officers, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets, tendrils of night wafting off of him. “Good morning, emissary,” he greeted casually. My fellow officers stared. “Ready to go?”

“Allow me to grab my bag,” I said, rising from my bench. He waved me off. Dismissive, casually aloof. I went to my officer’s quarters, grabbed my bag, and went back to the mess hall. Rhys held a hand out for me. “I’ve never winnowed before.” My trepidation made him smirk as I reached out and took his hand.

His grin was feline. “I’ll be gentle then.”

I doubted that, but didn’t dare say so out loud.

Winnowing was darkness and wind buffeting me from all sides. Pulling me apart and slamming me back together simultaneously. I clenched Rhys’ hand so tight my knuckles blanched.

Then it stopped. “Welcome to the Night Court,” Rhys remarked.

We were standing in a beautiful palace of moonstone. It reminded me of the sunstone of Thesan’s palace, but different—grand in a simple but elegant way. I found I liked the aesthetics of it better.

Rhys let go of my hand.

“Being daemati,” he began without preamble as I stared at the palace perched atop a mountain peak, “is about more than just reading the current thoughts of those around you. It’s not just speaking mind-to-mind or taking control of someone entirely.” He strode down the open-air hall to a glass table and sat. I took the seat opposite him at his indication and set down my bag.

“Being daemati,” he continued, “is having everything they are laid bare before you. Every memory, every secret, every muscle, under your control. You can alter their memories, stop their blood from flowing, shatter their minds to turn them into a living ghost. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly.” He lounged on his chair without a care in the world, but his eyes burned as he stared at me. “You understand?”

I nodded. “I understand.”

The High Lord seemed satisfied by my response. “Good. Then let’s get you settled in and then we can properly begin your training. Daemati lessons in the morning, diplomacy in the afternoon. You’ll be here for a week, and then you will return home for the time being. High Lord Thesan will be in touch discussing when you will return. When you’re alone in the Dawn Court, I suggest you practice what we work on here.”

I nodded again.

Rhys stood, I followed. He strode back the way we came down the hall.

“You’re allowed to fly, too, by the way, while you’re here. But please do not go farther than this peak and the ones adjacent. All the mountains in this range look the same and I do not have time to find you or send out a search party if you get lost.”

Reasonable. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Shall we get started?”

We made it to the back of the hall, where a large wall of marble with doors inset in it was waiting. I followed Rhys through one, down a flight of stairs, and into a beautiful guest bedroom. I stared around at the room, jaw gaping. “This… is not what I expected. No offense,” I said.

An amused smile appeared on his face. “No screaming, no torture chambers, no blatant debauchery?” he asked.

My ears and neck burned in shame. “Well… the Night Court has a… harsh reputation,” I admitted.

“It’s not an unwarranted one. But the wicked members of my court reside elsewhere. Deep beneath this mountain, actually. They’re not allowed up here. And you will not be interacting with them. Your business with me has nothing to do with them. So, you won’t be subjected to the worst the Night Court has to offer.”

“Thank the Mother,” I breathed. My wings drooped a bit with relief. Rhys smirked, crossing his arms across his ribs and leaning against the doorframe.

“Go ahead and unpack, if you wish. Then meet me upstairs in the hall.”

“Okay,” I said. Rhys slipped out of the guest room. I set my small leather rucksack next to the armoire. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing. A few semi-formal outfits, my ceremonial uniform, some sleep clothes, and that was pretty much it. There wasn’t much to unpack, so I didn’t bother. Just stared around the incredible room—including the pool-sized bathtub that allowed water to flow into thin air off the side of the mountain.

When I’d stared my fill, I went back upstairs to the open-air hall. Rhys was lounging in that chair at the table again. He must have known I was there, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge me.

I hadn’t made it halfway when claws slammed into my shields. Dark ones. Powerful ones. My shield held strong, but I felt it strain. I grunted.

“Huh,” Rhys mused. “For a self-taught daemati, you’ve got a pretty good shield.”

“Thank you,” I said, walking forward to retake my seat across from him.

His power slammed into my shields again, before I could reach him. Much stronger this time. My shield shattered before I could reinforce it.

Those claws dug into my mind. I wondered if they hurt non-daemati. They made me stagger, landing on one knee and definitely bruising my kneecap. Push me out, Rhys’ voice said in my head, so loud and so overwhelming that I put my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Shove me out!

“How?” I demanded. Tears welled up in my eyes. The claws twisted—and the tears drained. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Everything was under Rhysand’s control.

He stood from the table and strode over to me. I couldn’t move my eyes to track his progress. His boots appeared in my line of sight and he crouched in front of me. A claw twisted and my eyes looked up to meet his. Out of my control.

“Shove me out of your head,” he said. Calm. Collected. Controlled.

How?! I pleaded internally. Everything was so dark—overshadowed by such immense power… it must have dwarfed even the other High Lords’ reserves…

Shove. Me. Out.

Darkness. His power was darkness.

I was a Peregryn soldier of the Dawn Court.

In my head, I clamped down my surging panic and released my own power. The streaks of dawn broke over his shroud. I sent each shaft of light to his claws. Pushing them out of my head, building my shield behind them. More rays of the rising sun pierced the clouds of night. With a final push, I hurled those claws away from me, slamming my shield back into place and reinforcing it. Once. Twice.

Control of my own body flooded back to me. I slumped, face-first, to the moonstone floor. Panting. Sweaty.

I heard a soft thud. Rhysand sat on the ground. “Not bad,” he remarked. “The light. Not a choice I would have thought of from you. I’m impressed—and, bear in mind, that’s not a compliment I give easily.”

Chest heaving, I pushed up to meet his eyes. He was sitting with his ankles crossed, long legs stretched out before him, arms braced on the floor behind him in an easy-going posture. “You don’t believe in starting slow, do you?” The demand came out as more of an exhausted plea—which I hated. I wasn’t weak. I was a soldier—an officer—not some downy fledgling. I was just new to this level of skill.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t taught slowly. Besides, I had no intention of doing you any harm. There was no real danger. But teaching you the most important skills right off the bat will give you greater advantages if you ever come across another daemati.”

My breathing finally slowed. I wiped my sweat off on my sleeve. My wings were still trembling. I flapped them half-heartedly to ease out the tension. Rhys’ eyes followed them.

“What… what did you see?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said—” I cleared my throat. “You said every memory is laid bare before you, when you’re in someone else’s mind. What did you see?”

“I didn’t. This is a training exercise. Despite what the other courts are led to believe, I’m not heartless. I understand that as an officer in Thesan’s aerial legion, you probably know a few secrets of the court.”

I scoffed. “Bold of you to assume High Lord Thesan trusts me that much. Did you see me at the meeting last week? At the far end of his left-hand side? The lowest rank?”

“He trusts you enough to defend his life in a room full of the most powerful men in Prythian,” Rhysand pointed out.

My expression dropped. I’d never thought about it like that.

Rhysand laughed. “Did that just occur to you?”

I didn’t reply. Just pushed myself to my feet. I fluffed my feathers with a shake of my shoulders and shook my hands through my hair in an attempt to fix it up a little. Rhys stood in one smooth motion.

“Can we sit for the next part? That trip hurt my knee.” I gestured to the bruise forming on the bottom of my kneecap, exposed under the hem of my trousers.

“Sure.”

I preceded him to the table and sat down. The chair—I hadn’t paid it any mind before, due to being used to it in a Peregryn legion—but the chair was built to accommodate wings. I looked back at it, and then faced the front again. Rhysand sat opposite me. I pointed to the chair. “This is made for wings,” I said.

He nodded. “I have Illyrians in my lands, remember? Two of them are my closest counsel,” he said.

“I remember. I guess I just never considered… that you’d have chairs made for them here. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making assumptions. About this place. About your court in general. It’s rude.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Assumptions and expectations are how we survive and prepare for the worst to do so.” He shrugged.

“You really didn’t look at any of my memories?”

“No. I will respect the terms of our business.”

“Thank you.”

“I will ask, too, that you do the same. When we get to that point in your training.”

“Of course,” I said. I definitely didn’t want to see what was inside his head. The wickedness of the Night Court’s reputation… any atrocities he’d caused or committed… I didn’t want details.

He inclined his head to me. “Thank you.” He looked out to the mountains surrounding us. “We may not get to that this week, though. We’ll see.”

I nodded.

“The next bit of your training we can discuss before demonstrating. They’re the two biggest rules of being daemati. The first is: if you delve into someone’s mind, keep your exit open so a fellow daemati doesn’t leave their shields down and slam them shut behind you, trapping you in their mind. You become their slave. No control over anything. Unable to get out.”

My wings shuddered as a chill went down my spine. Rhysand smirked slightly.

“Second rule: be prepared to see things you might not like and definitely don’t want to see. Unpleasant memories. Evidence of your father having an affair. Lives are messy and complicated. It’s part of being daemati.”

I nodded. “I know that part already,” I said.

The smile turned from amused to an understanding purse of the lips. “I know you do. Based on what you said at the meeting.”

His claws lashed at my shields again. They glinted harmlessly off. My reinforcements held. Rhysand nodded in approval. “Not bad.”

“The third rule, I’m guessing, is always be prepared for your mind to be attacked at any moment.”

“That’s optional, but yes.”

“So, if I may ask, my lord, what was with the droning at the meeting?”

“I sensed another daemati in the room. Magic brushing my shield, passing through the room against everyone else’s. I just couldn’t pinpoint who. So I sent out a wave to test who it was. You resisted for a long time, actually. Longer than I would have imagined. Then you screamed. Which startled me, actually. I didn’t know it was you, at first. But during the mingling afterward, I saw you alone. Everyone else was talking, but you were shaking. Your wings were trembling. I took a guess. Figured I’d wipe the encounter from your mind if I turned out to be wrong.” He smirked. “But I wasn’t.” There was the arrogance I recognized. I rolled my eyes. He chuckled. “Sorry. That was probably unpleasant.”

“Understatement,” I muttered.

Another laugh. Then he went quiet. “Shall we move on to the next demonstration? About leaving the way out open?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Yes. Let’s move on.”

#Diplomatic Daemati #Part 2 #Diplomatic Daemati Part 2 #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Winter Court Wedding

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: This has been in my head for a few days and I had to get it out of my head so I could write other stuff XD

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) 2,356 words... yup it ran away from me again. This one pretends Tamlin isn’t a terrible person so we get Rhys instead 😉 @itscheybaby

^^^^^

“Rhysand?” I called through the town house.

“Yes?” His voice was coming from the kitchen.

I went downstairs, holding the box I’d found in our room. “What’s this for?” I asked, indicating the heavy fur-lined black cloak with silver embroidery of the moon and stars up the sides.

“Can’t I give you a gift just because I want to?” His smirk was almost too casual for me to believe him.

“You know I prefer coats in Velaris,” I replied. “So there’s something going on.”

He sighed, wings drooping. “Alright. You caught me,” he muttered. “We’re going to the Winter Court.”

“What for?”

“Kallias and Vivane’s wedding.”

“Didn’t they get married like an hour after he got back from Under the Mountain?”

Rhysand folded his arms, tucking his wings against his back a little tighter. “Yes,” he said carefully, “but they’re hosting a formal reception for their court, as well as for the other High Lords. I’m sure Kallias doesn’t actually want to invite us, or any of the other High Lords for that matter, but Mor and Vivane are really good friends and I don’t think he wants to harm that relationship.”

“So Mor’s coming with us, then?”

“Unfortunately, no. She has to put out a fire in the Court of Nightmares.”

“Literal or figurative?”

“Figurative. Keir is pitching fits again.”

“Ah. Same old, same old, then.”

“Pretty much.”

I decided to change the subject.

“So, the cloak is to keep me warm in the Winter Court climate, I’m assuming.”

“Yes. Hopefully without damaging your dress. Sometimes your coats rumple the skirts. While we’re in Velaris—and anywhere in the Night Court that’s not the Court of Nightmares, really—I don’t mind. But you know what we look like to the other courts. The image we present.”

Wealthy, dangerous, ruthless, powerful Night Court High Fae. Immaculate and pristine. Never even a hair out of place. Always in control of every situation. The High Lord who always got what he wanted, his thunderstorm of a High Lady by his side. Nary a trace of the Illyrian half-breed with self-worth issues and the Autumn Court runaway who’d never belonged anywhere.

“I know,” I said.

Rhys approached me and pulled the cloak out of its small box. “Besides,” he said, slinging it around me, “it does look rather fetching on you.” He bent his head and pressed a kiss to my neck.

“Charmer,” I teased.

He laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I missed you, while you were… gone.”

Even though he insisted he was fine, I still did my best not to mention Under the Mountain. The secrets he’d been forced to keep, the things he’d been forced to do to keep me and the rest of the Night Court safe. We talked about it when he needed to, and I would always be there for him, but I didn’t need to force the past forty-nine years on him.

Rhys put his arms around my waist under the cloak and buried his nose in my hair. “I missed you too.”

“So when do we leave for the Winter Court?”

He knew I was changing the subject away from what I didn’t want to bring up, but he let me. “Tomorrow. We may stay overnight, we may not.”

“Shame Mor’s not coming with.”

“Agreed. She’d love to see Viviane again.”

“We’ll find some way to reunite them. How about that?”

“I think it sounds delightful. We’ll put them in a sound-proof room so we don’t have to hear them squealing into the late hours of the night.” His sarcasm was not lost on me. I chuckled. We swayed in place for a bit. “Let’s go get prepared for tomorrow, darling,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

—

I already miss the Northern mountains, I thought at Rhys, wrapping the beautiful new cloak tighter around me to suppress a shiver. Even they aren’t as cold as this.

He hid his amused smile with a lazy smirk, boredly surveying the Winter Court ice waste around us as the reindeer-pulled sleigh whisked over the snow. I agree, he thought back, but it’s not for very long.

The small tiara I’d chosen to accompany my gown was like I’d wrapped an icicle around my scalp. The metal of it practically frozen to my skin.

The sleigh turned a corner.

“By the Cauldron,” I breathed.

The palace was made of ice. It towered into the sky with sharp jags and icicle towers, hexagonal walls filtering sunlight from behind. White-furred bears patrolled the battlements alongside the soldiers. All of whom sported white hair and pale blue uniforms. Snow was falling, but there was only a scattering of clouds. The High Lord’s magic, then, probably.

It might be a good idea to close your jaw, Rhys advised, no sarcasm present. We have an image to maintain while we’re here.

Right, I thought.

The sleigh driver pulled us up to a half-circle drive of packed snow. At the apex of the half-circle were two massive doors to the palace, wide open to the deep blue gloom of indoors. After slowing to a stop, we gave the driver a curt but polite thank-you and swept out of the sleigh. I caught Rhys flicking a finger before offering me his arm. What magic did you just do? I thought at him.

Tipping the driver. It’s polite but I definitely don’t want to be seen doing it. Would ruin the monster reputation I’ve spent centuries building. An image accompanied his reply—of a cheeky wink. I sent him back nothing but laughter.

An attendant—a young “lesser” faerie female with skin the color, texture, and reflectiveness of powdered snow—guided us inside. It was a lot warmer within the ice-crafted walls than I would have expected. I almost wanted to remove my cloak. The attendant looked absolutely terrified of us. Rhys and I barely acknowledged she was there, both keeping impassive expressions on our faces. I wished I could reassure her that everything was alright—that we were friendly—but I knew why I couldn’t.

She led us up what technically counted as a spiral staircase—despite it being hexagonal and not perfectly circular—to a suite of rooms. “His Lordship hopes you will be comfortable here,” the attendant said.

“Thank you.” A curt dismissal from Rhys. She scampered away.

Once she was gone and the doors closed, both of us relaxed. “I hate acting like that,” I muttered.

“Me too. But every High Lord puts on a face,” Rhys said. “You remember Helion. He seems terribly prickly and temperamental in public but is quite amusing and kind in private.” Rhys sat on a white sofa embroidered with sky blue winter flora and a few snowflakes.

“I do remember Helion. I also remember wishing you’d given me a warning about it. I was ready to punch him for being so rude to you.”

Rhys winked at me. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as fun,” he replied. I rolled my eyes. “Well, love, there’s nothing to do but wait until the reception. We did arrive a little early.”

“Four hours is ‘a little’?” I joked.

All I got was a shrug. “I like making statements,” he replied casually. “I arrive when I wish and I don’t care about their scheduling. Usually I would prefer to show up late to make it seem like I really don’t care about whatever it is they’ve had the courage to invite me to, but sometimes it’s more fun to arrive much earlier than planned and make that everyone else’s problem.”

I laughed. “You do a good job of making your act seamless.”

“Centuries of practice, darling.” He lounged on the sofa but patted the seat next to him. I sat beside him. It was almost warm enough inside to remove my cloak, but not quite. Rhys’ body heat was helping make up the difference. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thanks. You’re quite stunning yourself.” Black jacket, immaculately embroidered in silver and gold, deep midnight blue shirt underneath buttoned all the way up to hide his tattoos, black slacks with a single ring of silver thread around the ankles. It had taken me an hour to convince him to wear a blue shirt instead of black. But it really brought out his eyes. Dimmed the blazing, powerful violet just enough to reveal that his irises were actually blue.

“I’m always stunning,” he replied.

I smacked him in the chest with the back of my hand. “Arrogant,” I accused.

He kissed me. “You like it though.”

I rolled my eyes.

—

The ballroom was enormous. Pillars of glimmering ice reflected faelight bobbing around the ceiling. It was lightly snowing inside. Winter Court High Fae and faeries milled around, talking, eating, drinking. A line extended away from the bride and groom. Well-wishers offering their congratulations.

Rhysand wasn’t going to bother waiting in the line. I knew that. We’d approach from behind or from the other side, offer our regards, and then leave.

But not immediately.

The ballroom was warm enough that I passed my cloak to a waiting attendant. My gown was so dark violet it was almost black. A bell-shaped skirt dotted with beads in the shape of stars swished over the ice floor, lightly dusted with snow. The gown’s sleeves barely capped my shoulders, but the long black satin gloves that ended two inches from the bottom of the sleeves helped keep my arms warm. The bandeau tiara had three dark amethysts glinting among the white diamonds.

The finery wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I knew the effect it had on others.

Rhys and I wandered the ballroom, mingling only occasionally—and only if the other party dared approach us first.

Including High Lord Tamlin of the Spring Court and his charming bride-to-be, Feyre Cursebreaker. Both of them looking happy and healthy and more in love than ever.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Rhys,” Tamlin said begrudgingly. His eyes flicked over to me. I didn’t have to be daemati like Rhys to know what he was thinking. The whispers of the other faeries milling about followed me the moment we entered the room, and Tamlin was likely in agreement.

Freak. Unnatural. Witch. Lightning was not meant to be harnessed by magic like that. She doesn’t belong in any court.

I thought about snapping something at Tamlin, but Rhys cut in smoothly, “We could hardly miss an important function such as this, Tamlin.” He inclined his head at the female on Tamlin’s arm. “A pleasure to see you again, Feyre.”

“Wish I could say the same about you,” she replied dryly.

Rhys tsked, but didn’t say anything to her. “Enjoy the party,” he said to both of them instead before pulling me away. I waved at Feyre, letting an apology touch my expression. Her glare softened a moment and she lifted her fingers as though to wave back, but thought better of it.

I turned away. She’d saved Tamlin and freed the other High Lords and their courts from Amarantha. She gave Rhys back to me—and I couldn’t even give her the thanks she deserved. Electricity crackled in my veins. Rhys jolted slightly as I shocked him. No one else would have noticed.

Easy, he thought at me. What’s wrong?

I let him into an antechamber in my shields, to see what I thought and felt without having to explain. Thoughtful silence followed. We’ll find a way to let you thank her. For us both to thank her. She gave me back to you, too.

Thank you, I thought at him.

Of course. I felt a loving caress against my shields. I sent one in return.

Rhys took me through the crowd, occasionally offering greetings to the High Fae and faeries who didn’t cower as we passed. Rhys’s damper on his power had been loosened. Not released completely, but relaxed—allowing tendrils of darkness to drift from him like shafts of steam. It was an intimidation tactic. He did it a lot.

“Kallias. Viviane,” Rhys said as we approached the bride and groom. Both looked resplendent. Viviane in her simple but no doubt expensive gown that glittered like powdered snow under the moonlight. They turned to us. “Morrigan sends her regards and regrets that she couldn’t make it.” Those words were directed at Viviane. She smiled at the both of us. More warmly at me than at Rhys.

“Congratulations to you both,” I said with a genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy with one another.”

Kallias gave me a cold stare. Wondering where my calculating, ruthless High Lady mask was, no doubt. But I did want them to know that I was happy for them. That I was happy they’d found one another after Amarantha.

“Thank you,” Viviane said before Kallias could reply. She reached out and took my hand in both of hers. “And thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rhys said smoothly, smirking slightly.

“We left our gift on the table with the others,” I said softly to Viviane.

She gave me a warm grin. “Thank you. Thank you, both.”

I returned the grin and Rhys bade a curt goodbye to Kallias before we retreated back into the crowd.

“Care to dance?” I asked.

“With you? Always.” He smiled at me. For a moment I forgot we were in another court. All I could think of was him. All I could see was those blazing eyes—that lazy smile. His warmth against me.

I didn’t realize I must have been showing that on my face because he leaned down and kissed me. “The rest of tonight is going to be so much fun,” he whispered suggestively, giving me that playful smirk he always had when he knew we were both going to get what we wanted from each other before the night was over.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the Winter Court chill travelled down my spine. Excitement. “Oh, I think it will be,” I replied.

#Winter Court Wedding #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Diplomatic Daemati

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: A writing prompt on Pinterest about screaming in your mind to catch mind readers

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Clocking in at 3,712 words... this one really ran away from me. I kinda wanted to make this a full blown thing. Maybe I will but I haven’t decided yet. This is supposed to take place like way before Amarantha.

^^^^^

I stood in the High Lord’s meeting, a member of Thesan’s entourage, and stared at each and every High Fae and faerie. Most of them didn’t notice. Not Rhysand of the Night Court, who was coldly making stiff conversation with Helion of the Day Court, who didn’t notice me either.

But I could feel it. The presence. Someone else in this room was daemati. Like me. The wards keeping everyone from fighting made it hard to pinpoint the direction that presence was coming from. No matter which way I faced, I only ever felt the other daemati with my right ear, like a fly buzzing around my head at the same speed I turned it. Thesan hadn’t noticed I was jittery. Probably because, as a Peregryn and a warrior trained to always be on alert, I was always flighty.

Also because he didn’t know I was daemati. A secret I’d never been sure why I kept.

My own mental shields were up, but they were designed to be subtle. Another daemati might look at my mind and not sense they were up. Depending on how good they were.

I reached out with my mind, letting nothing more than a breeze caress the shields of everyone who had one. Every High Lord had one; as did many members of their entourages. Not all.

No one stiffened as my breeze touched their shields. I wasn’t sure if a non-daemati would even be able to feel the wisp of magic, but I doubted it.

I poked a little harder at Tamlin and Nostrus’ shields where they were discussing their shared border with the bored tones of those looking for things in common. Not a breeze, but a brush of a flower stem as one walked. Neither acknowledged anything. I tried Beron’s. Nothing. Helion’s. Nothing. Rhysand. Nothing.

Except—did his eye twitch? Or was I shaking so much that I imagined it? Was it wishful thinking that his blue-violet eyes might have flicked away from Helion and looked around for the source of the magic against his shield?

I wasn’t sure if I dared poke harder. Though I was distracted from the thought by movement.

The High Lord of the Winter Court—whose name escaped me—stood. “I’d like to call this meeting to order,” he said. His voice was brittle like ice cracking as growing spring weather thawed it out.

The High Lords and their retinues all found their way to their seats. Myself included, at the far end of Thesan’s left side. The least important, lowest ranked soldier among the Dawn Court group. I was still highly ranked back home, but among every important, powerful commander High Lord Thesan had brought, I was the lowest. I considered myself honored I’d even been selected to come.

Maybe Thesan did know I was daemati after all. Or, at least, guessed as much.

Though, if he’d guessed, wouldn’t he have confronted me about it? Asked me to break into whoever’s minds I could? Just to fact check their honesty?

I tuned out the meeting completely. A low-pitched hum was filling the mental space between everyone’s minds. Reverberating off shields. No one seemed to notice. I certainly wasn’t doing it—but no one’s face betrayed any hint of effort. Not a trace of split focus.

The pitch of the hum got higher. A bead of sweat ran down my spine between my wings. I felt like I was going to vibrate out of my feathers at the effort of keeping still. I pushed against that hum, built another layer around my shields, deciding to forget the subtlety I’d planned in the event of another daemati peeking at me. I didn’t dare form words beyond that shield. Didn’t dare let the other daemati have the chance to recognize my voice. Not that I’d said anything during the opening mingle that would give someone the chance to learn my voice. But I didn’t dare risk it.

Every ounce of concentration went toward sitting still and appearing relaxed, and building up more layers of my mental shield, trying desperately to block out the humming.

I doubted anyone else—besides the originator—could even notice or feel it. I doubted they had any presence in the mindscape beyond the maintaining of their own shields. They were all tucked safely in their own minds, not noticing the hum as it got louder and higher. Loud and high enough that I was almost surprised it hadn’t become real sound, echoing around the chamber of the sacred mountain—the neutral zone where High Lords met.

That hum turned into the drone of an oboe. Holding steady and perfectly in tune.

Another drop of sweat slid down my spine, brushing where feather met skin.

Everyone’s faces were perfect masks of calm indifference.

“—furthermore, when taken into consideration—” the High Lord of the Winter Court dragged on. The only words that had broken through my own internal war with my own body and whoever was making the droning.

The pitch built again. I felt like it was going to shear my feathers off.

I glanced at the Illyrian warriors Rhysand had brought with him. It would be a literal one-of-a-kind chance for the shadowsinger to also be daemati.

But it would be just like Rhysand—with his games and his plans and his power plays—to have allied himself with the two most powerful Illyrians in history that also were a shadowsinger and a daemati.

The bigger of the two—taller than even Rhysand by several inches—with his glowing scarlet Siphons and powerful build didn’t seem to fit, though. I quickly lashed a tendril of my presence at his shield. I felt it wobble. Just a bit. It was there and it was strong, but it didn’t have the intricacies of someone who knew from the experience of attacking a shield how to defend against daemati.

Not him then.

A quick test at the shadowsinger revealed the same. Though I kept my eyes on the High Lord of the Winter Court, I could have sworn the shadowsinger’s eyes flicked around.

Shadowsingers can hear and feel things no one else can, I reminded myself. He’s still probably not daemati on top of it.

The drone was now a high-pitched ringing. It was all I could do to hold still.

No one looked strained by the effort of holding this noise for the several minutes it had been building.

I tested everyone’s shields around the room in a quick wave. They didn’t seem to notice. Not me, and not the ringing.

My mind felt like it was going to shatter from the noise before my shield did.

Almost unwittingly, I cracked open a small slit in my shield—

And screamed.

Not physically. Just mentally. A high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. The kind I’d released when I’d had to have a wing relocated after a particularly nasty training day and my captain’s scrimmage resulted in dislocating the joint where my wing met my back.

Rhysand flinched.

No one else noticed it. No one else would have. They weren’t looking for it. They were all still focused on the Winter Court High Lord. The flinch was small and barely more than a twitch of his right hand.

But I saw.

Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court. The wicked, dangerous, calculating, cold, manipulative, admittedly handsome, extremely powerful High Lord of the Night Court.

Who now knew there was another daemati in the room.

And was most likely smart and strong enough to pinpoint that it was me.

I slammed the sliver in my shield closed and reinforced the whole thing a few times over. If he had games to play with my mind, I could at least keep him busy for a while. I tested my shield for weak points and built them up.

The high-pitched ringing stopped. I forced my wings not to shiver at the relief.

No probes. Not a single scuff of another’s presence against my shield. No claws. Not even a breeze. It was almost more unnerving than if he did attack.

I was curious about the intricacies of his shield. Curious if I could learn something from someone older and more experienced by trying to tunnel through.

But I didn’t dare. He was far too strong for me to go up against and win.

And I wasn’t willing to get into his mind and risk him trapping me there. To be an unwitting and unwilling slave and spy in the Dawn Court.

So I kept myself to myself for the rest of the meeting. Not daring to reach out to anyone’s minds.

—

The end of the meeting brought a bit more mingling. Less from the High Lords and more from the retinues. The Night Court kept to themselves, but that didn’t surprise me. Every party had brought wine and were taking the chance to drink and talk.

I hung near a wall and said nothing to no one. I allowed my body—my wings—to shudder every time I took a sip of my drink. Acting as though the elderberry wine was the cause of the shudder, not the pent-up energy of holding still through that droning. My hearing still felt fuzzy hours after it had stopped.

“You know,” a lazy voice drawled behind me, “breaking into other people’s minds is rude.”

I whirled. Rhysand stood there. Unnervingly close. His eyes were blue, but so dark and so deep they appeared violet.

My grip tightened on the stem of my glass.

“So I’d imagine,” I said, tone tightly controlled and managing not to tremble.

He leaned down—I was shorter than him—and whispered, “I won’t tell anyone you’re daemati.”

“I assume you’ll want something in exchange.” My words weren’t quite as flat and fearless as I wanted them to be, but I hoped it was enough to fool him. Doubtful. He was centuries older than me.

He gave me a roguish smirk. “Information.”

“I would rather be outed as daemati than give up court secrets to you.”

Rhysand waved a hand dismissively, swirling his wine. I reinforced my shields, but he didn’t touch them. “Not about your court. We’re on decent terms with each other, Night and Dawn. Comparatively, anyway. No, no. I want information about you. It’s so rare to meet another daemati. I should think you’d be interested in comparing notes.” He spoke with a tone that was undoubtedly supposed to be sweet, but so laced with poison that my feathers bristled.

I should have been scared. I knew I should have been scared. Terrified out of my mind, probably.

For whatever reason, I wasn’t.

Nervous, of course. Tentative, of course. But there was no real fear.

“What do you want to know?” I asked.

“Who taught you?”

“No one. I taught myself.”

“Liar,” he snapped.

“It’s the truth. No one—not even my parents—know what I am.” I spoke quietly so the other mingling High Fae and faeries didn’t hear in a room of predator’s hearing.

“And why not? You’d quickly become a very prized member of Thesan’s court if you told him. He would value you and your opinion quite highly.” I wasn’t sure if he was being genuine or if his saccharine smile was meant to intimidate me.

I lifted my chin. “If you must know, I made a grave mistake with my powers when I was a child and vowed that I would never tell anyone what I was. So I taught myself.”

Rhysand’s playful sarcasm vanished on a wisp of smoke. “You hurt someone?”

“No. I wasn’t strong enough for that. But I looked into my father’s mind without permission. Without knowing, really. I just… slipped in. And I saw a lot of ugly truths in there that a child had no right to see. Including the fact that he was having an affair with another female. I never told my mother. Never told anyone, actually. I kept myself to myself and honed my abilities on my own. No one ever asked if I was daemati when I joined the legion, so I never said anything.”

“So why not reveal it now?”

I scoffed. “Because that would lose the trust of everyone I know, if they found out I lied to them for decades.”

Rhysand smiled. The same wickedly amused one he’d sported occasionally during the meeting and during the first part of our conversation. “I like you,” he purred, leaning closer. My feathers fluffed and bristled.

His lips brushed the edge of my ear as he whispered, “If you’re interested, I’d be interested in training you further.”

“I’m fine as I am, thank you,” I replied, colder and sharper than I meant.

His face betrayed nothing, still that mask of collected, sarcastic boredom. “You don’t want to be seen as a traitor to your court, is that it?”

My wings extended just slightly and I lifted my chin. None of my instinctual attempts at intimidation would work on him. I knew that. But my wings often acted like a second facial expression, and one that was harder to control than my actual face. “No. I don’t. And I would be if I was caught anywhere near your vicinity.”

Rhys picked at a speck of dust on his lapel that wasn’t there. “I’m sure I could find some way to spin it to Thesan to let you come play with me without being seen as a traitor.” Shadows rippled around him, almost the same way they swirled around his shadowsinger.

“Why?”

“Because an under-trained daemati is dangerous. Potentially more dangerous than a fully-trained one. You could crush and shred minds without meaning to. And I may be a monster, but even I don’t delight in the unintentional destruction of innocent minds and lives,” Rhysand said. “But you gave me information about you—so I will also hold to my end and not tell anyone what you are.” He tilted his head to the side. “Unless you wish me to.”

“No,” I said, too fast to not sound desperate.

I cast my mind around the High Fae and faeries nearby. None of them were paying us any mind.

I realized why as I brushed against several tendrils of dark power. Effortlessly puncturing their shields. He was keeping their attention off of us. None of them even seemed to notice he was there.

His lips curled in a predatory smile. “So? What do you say? Let me train you, hone your gifts, make sure you have full control?”

“And in return?” I repeated.

“Clever girl. In return, you give me three fallen feathers from your next molting.”

My feathers bristled. “Why?”

“The why is not part of the deal,” he said. “What do you say?”

“One condition: no tattoo. I know it’s customary in your court to mark a bargain on the skin, but I want this to remain a secret. Which a tattoo will not help with.”

That predator’s grin widened. “Fine. No tattoo. But it’s a deal?” He extended a hand to me.

I hesitated. “Deal,” I agreed. I grabbed his hand and shook it.

Pain slashed on the inside of my left elbow. I gasped and looked down.

A faint scar, surgically precise, grazed the bottom of the crease in my skin. Rhysand rolled up his jacket sleeve to show off a matching one in the same place. “No tattoo,” he said. Giving me a cheeky wink and rolling his sleeve back down into place, he strolled off. Straight toward Thesan, despite what his unhurried amble would suggest.

I decided I didn’t want to know how he planned on spinning a way to get the chance to train me without my defecting to the Night Court or betraying the Dawn Court. I stayed where I was, nursing my drink. Looking at no one, not even Rhysand and Thesan, for longer than a casual glance. My wings shuddered with every sip of my drink. I really didn’t like wine—elderberry or otherwise—but didn’t want to seem out of place by not drinking. The truce in this sacred mountain always felt like it was balancing on a knife’s edge. One soldier not drinking would imply a lack of trust in everyone assembled and then everything would go sideways as the High Lords shouted at each other and escalated the situation.

Rhysand and Thesan left the chamber, both motioning to their entourages not to join. Rhysand’s Illyrian warriors watched them go, the same way I did.

Why were Night Court males so handsome? How was that fair to the rest of us?

One of my fellow Peregryn soldiers sidled up to me. “Some meeting, huh?” he asked. I grunted agreement.

“Always is, with the High Lords, I’d imagine.”

My cohort shuddered. “All that power, all in one room. It was like the air itself was turning into magic. Especially High Lord Rhysand. My feathers bristled just getting within half a wing-length of him.”

“No kidding,” I agreed. “I know he’s supposedly the most powerful, but I get the feeling that sometimes he’s more than just a cut above the rest. I feel like he might be several cuts above the other High Lords.”

My cohort nodded. “You’re probably right,” he said. “It’s unnerving.” His feathers shivered. I reached back and straightened one of my own. “Did you see where he went with High Lord Thesan?”

“Just out into one of the passages.”

“Any guesses why?”

I shrugged, my feathers swishing through the air with the motion. “Probably High Lord business not meant for the ears of the rest of us. You know Rhysand’s reputation as well as I do. He’s a schemer. He’s always got something up his sleeve. He’s always one step ahead of everyone else. High Lord Thesan has complained that Rhysand is difficult to work with at the best of times. Has plans he tells no one about until they’ve been completed. Always gets what he wants. Undoubtedly he’s pulling the strings of one of those plans now.”

My cohort sat thoughtfully for a while. “You ever flown over the Night Court?”

“No. And I don’t plan to. Have you?”

“No. I don’t want to either,” he said. “Especially not with those Illyrians in the skies.” His eyes slid over to Rhysand’s Illyrians, who stood beside each other and spoke to no one else. The bigger one with the red gems was speaking to the other, the shadowsinger, who didn’t appear to reply at all.

Thesan and Rhysand reentered the chamber. Rhysand inspected me, my cohort, and the other members of Thesan’s entourage. Then waved a hand lazily at me. Thesan gaped for a moment, but nodded.

I bowed as my High Lord approached, Rhysand a step behind. “A word in private, please?” Thesan asked. My cohort bowed in acknowledgement and scurried away. Thesan gestured to Rhysand. “This is High Lord Rhysand of the Night Court.” The introduction was unnecessary even if we hadn’t already spoken, but I gave Rhysand a bow of respect anyway. “He and I have been discussing improving diplomatic relations between our courts for a while now, and he’s requested that you be the emissary from the Dawn Court to the Night Court.”

Push back, don’t be too eager, Rhysand’s voice said in my head, punching past my shield. I almost jolted. Instead, I kept that crack in my shield open. If he was going to guide me through this conversation, it’d be easier just to let him in. Just a little.

“I’m a soldier, my lord, not a diplomat,” I said. True enough.

“Yes, but Rhysand here has decided that you are the only one he will trust. For reasons of his own.” He shot a sharp look to the Lord of Night. One that Rhysand pretended he didn’t see—instead picking a speck of dust off his lapel. A speck that wasn’t there. He swept his hands over his lapels and gave me and Thesan a saccharine smile.

Push back a bit, but relent, Rhysand thought at me.

“I’m not sure I’m qualified, my lord. But… if it is what my duty requires, I will gladly serve,” I said.

Nice. You sure you’re not a diplomat?

Please don’t. I’m not accomplished at having two conversations at once while pretending one isn’t happening.

I felt his laughter rumbling through my head like thunder. Yet, he teased, tone sounding like he found something delicious.

High Lord Thesan smiled at me. “Thank you. Would a visit to the Night Court next week be alright?”

“My lord, whenever works best for you. I am at your service.”

Rhysand waved a hand. “Next week fits into my business well, actually.”

“Then we’ll plan on the initial visit for next week,” Thesan agreed.

Rhysand smirked. “Excellent.” He looked at me. “I look forward to your company.”

I bowed. “My lord,” I said.

He retreated. Good job, soldier. Welcome to a diplomat’s world.

Thesan gave me a serious look. “Be careful,” he said quietly. “And keep sensitive information to yourself.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Thesan left me alone too.

High Lord Rhysand? I reached out tentatively.

Call me Rhys. Please. I hate the over-the-top formality with friends. He was talking with his Illyrian warriors, wine in hand, never indicating he was having a secondary conversation.

Okay. Rhys… you do realize I’m going to have to report back actual diplomatic relations, right?

Of course. I already have plans for you to relay to Thesan. We actually have been talking about improving the relations between our courts. I’m killing two birds with one stone. No reason not to.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thank you for offering to train me.

I’m doing it for your sake as well as mine—and everyone else’s here. Thank me after your training is finished, because you certainly won’t thank me during it.

I take it that it won’t be pleasant?

Working your mind like this never is.

I blinked. See you next week then?

He chuckled in my head. Until then.

I looked back over at him. He lifted his wine glass at me in a toast and gave me an over-exaggerated wink.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Diplomatic Daemati

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Take Me Instead

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Cassian

Rating: PG-11/T- (heavy implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: A writing prompt on Pinterest

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one... is 2,450 words. It really ran away from me. Then again, I’ve been writing everything significantly longer than I used to and I’m not complaining. Have fun!

^^^^^

“Wait!” Cassian shouted as the strange faeries started to drag me through the snow. “Take me instead. Give her back, and take me instead.” There was rage—raw, relentless, ruthless rage—burning just under his skin. I could see it on his face.

“No, Cassian,” I rasped, my throat sore and voice hoarse from screaming. His wings and arms were bound, his main two Siphons emptied and stripped away. Where the other five were, I didn’t know. I’d never asked how the armor transformation worked. He was an incredible warrior, but even he had his limits.

Cassian didn’t even look at me. Just held the stare of the two faeries holding me. “Let her go. Take me instead. I’m the High Lord’s general. I’m a much more valuable prisoner.”

“Cassian—don’t,” I tried again.

One of the faeries behind me purred. The two let me go with a shove that sent me crashing face-first into the snow. Cassian scrambled over to me as best he could. “You get back to the Illyrian camp,” he ordered quietly, bound hands grabbing one of mine. “Send word to Rhys. Tell him everything.”

“What about you?” I whispered.

He gave me a wink. I figured the confidence on his face was bravado he did not truly feel. “Don’t worry about me,” he replied easily.

The faeries grabbed him. One of them sliced the ropes around my ankles. I couldn’t reach to untie the one around my wrists. I’d have to make do.

Cassian didn’t fight as the faeries dragged him away. I didn’t allow myself to cry. I couldn’t risk my own tears freezing to my face in these mountains. Shivering in the cold, with gaping holes in my clothing from the fight leading to both of us getting bound, I started staggering back toward the Illyrian camp.

But… it was two days away. More, since I had to go slow and didn’t have full use of my hands. I’d never been powerful enough to winnow. Probably never would be, at this point. If I went too fast, I’d use up whatever energy my body had stored up that I’d probably need to keep warm. If I went to slow, I’d be killed by the cold.

I made my way back in the direction Cassian and I had come, cursing myself for insisting to Rhys that we could do this on our own. That this hunt would be a fun diversion and extra bit of practice, rather than a fight for my life and Cassian’s.

“Stupid idiot,” I spat in a whisper. “Why did you tell them you were the general?”

An hour passed. Whistling wind tore through the trees, whipping up the powdered snow in frenzies.

My anger was keeping me warm enough, blood boiling beneath my skin.

Throwing back my head, I screamed. The sound bounced around the trees, and even the mountain peaks surrounding me.

I huffed and fell on my knees. The snow crunched softly underneath them.

“Keep moving. Come on. You don’t have time to get this wet,” I said aloud, forcing myself to get back to my feet.

I stumbled along for a few hundred more yards before stopping.

There was a jagged rock, poking out through the snow.

I glanced down at the thick ropes binding my hands.

Without a second thought, I clumsily, blindly rushed through the snow toward it. Kneeling beside it, I started scraping the rope against the jagged edge.

A few fibers frayed. Not enough to do much good yet.

I pressed harder.

The mountains started getting dark. I swore under my breath, continuing to slowly work my way through the rope. I kept my lips closed as I screamed again, the sound muffled but vibrating through my skull.

Something brushed against the back of my mind. A thought, but not my own.

Your shields are down, the voice said. Rhysand’s voice. Where are you? What happened?

Daemati. I forgot he was one, sometimes. Forgot he could stick his voice into my head and pluck my own thoughts, feelings, and memories out as easily as he would peruse books on a shelf before him.

I forced myself to see as much of the route as I could remember in my mind’s eye, from the camp and back toward it. I made myself remember the attack. The fight. Cassian giving himself up to keep me safe.

And, where I expected unyielding fury from the High Lord—

I got laughter.

What’s so funny? I thought harshly.

Hang tight. Stay where you are. Azriel and I will come find you. When we get you somewhere warm, I’ll tell you, Rhys promised.

Don’t leave me alone, I pleaded.

I’ll try not to. But I may have to withdraw if my concentration is needed elsewhere.

I kept sawing at my bonds. The darkness was growing thicker now. Shafts of sunset being pinched off, leaving small flickers of stars in their stead. The big nasties are waking up, I thought frantically as the sounds of these mountains at night started their horrible symphony. I’m on the ground. I can’t fly. Can’t climb—my hands are bound. I’m going to—

Easy, Rhys interrupted. I felt his darkness pushing my emotions down, softening the edges of my fear. Are you bleeding?

Not anymore. It’s clotted and dried but there’s still flakes on my skin.

Try not to move. If there’s shelter that blocks you from the wind, hunker down. It’ll keep anything from smelling you.

I’m in an empty clearing, I thought at him. There’s nothing here but trees and I don’t know if I dare leave it.

Hold as still as you can. We’re on our way. We’ve been flying since I said we’d come find you.

I shivered. Hard. Gooseflesh was all over my skin, even under my fur-lined hunting leathers. There was so much snow in my hair that it had almost soaked through to my scalp. The cold wind only drew out the chill of wet hair. I shivered harder, curling around myself to try and hold in my body heat. I kept sawing. I wasn’t even halfway through the rope. Rhys’ presence was still in my mind. That soft night of soothing dreams fighting against my rising panic was a disturbing sense of calmness.

My eyes were tired. Windburned from being out here for days. I was cold, and the howling wind was leeching out the rest of my heat.

Hey, hey, hey, Rhys warned. Stay with me, okay? You have to stay awake! I think we’re almost there.

Yeah, yeah, okay, I thought tiredly, blinking slowly. Something else howled, not too far away. The anger that had been keeping my blood warm froze as a surge of panic slammed into Rhys’ daemati power so hard it almost pushed his soothing darkness out.

My eyelids drooped. I was aching. My wounds were frigid and my bones were crusting over with ice, deep within my flesh. I had no more energy to drag my bonds over that sharp edge of the rock. Hey Rhys? I think I’m gonna… just take a little nap, okay? My words sounded breathless, even in my head.

No. Not okay. Do not even think about falling asleep. That’s an order. Do you hear me? Do not fall asleep! We’re getting close. Where are you?

I stared at the rock in front of me, fighting to keep my eyes open. I flicked my gaze around the clearing, pushing the images to the forefront of my mind. Including the view of the sky above me.

I don’t know where I am, I thought listlessly.

Then scream. Scream again. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, Rhys’ voice pleaded.

I tried to scream. My throat was so raw that all I got out was a squeak. I can’t.

How much magic do you have left?

None. I used the last of it in the fight. It hasn’t regenerated yet.

He swore, and I almost chided him for it, but I didn’t have the energy to even form a coherent sentence with words. All I had were concepts. Images. Language was failing me, and so was my body.

My heavy eyelids dragged down over my eyes, that stung from windburn at the contact. Just… five minutes… the three words were all I could muster up.

As the very last line of sunlight winked out and the world was swallowed wholly by night, I passed out.

—

The boom of mighty wings woke me. Powdered snow flew over me in swift waves.

Two dark figures crashed into the drifts.

One of them threw a blanket over me. The two wrapped me up. One hauled me into his arms. “Az?” I asked.

“Guess again,” Rhys said. There was laughter in his voice.

“Hi Rhys.”

“Let’s get you someplace warm.”

Dark wind tore at me. I shuddered and huddled tighter around myself.

Then it was gone. I was set down in front of a crackling fireplace. I recognized the bareboned structure of an Illyrian camp house. “The bath is filling up, but if we don’t warm you up slowly, you’ll go into shock. Which will only make things worse,” Rhys said. He retreated to the tiny kitchen and turned on the sink.

Azriel crouched across from me. “Rhys told me what happened,” he said softly. “Are you alright?” His eyes were fixed on the long slice taken out of my hunting coat, leaving it gaping open.

“I’m still alive,” I grumbled. I heard Rhys laugh.

Azriel smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about Cassian,” he said.

“Yeah,” Rhys agreed, definitely laughing. “If they didn’t free him voluntarily thirty minutes after you last saw him, then they either will by dawn, or they’ll be too dead to bother.”

“What?” I asked.

Rhys came over and put a mug of hot water in my hands. “Hold this. It’ll warm you up.”

“What do you mean, they’d give him up voluntarily?” I asked.

Azriel smiled. “You know him. He’d annoy them so much that they’d just let him go to be free of his incessant prattle,” he said.

“Or,” Rhys added, “he’ll kill them all.”

“But—they overpowered us…”

“Run the fight by us again. Tell us what happened. When did Cassian go down?”

“After they cut my stomach,” I said.

Azriel and Rhysand shared a look. “That’s why. He purposely gave up to keep you safe. He knew exactly what he was doing. He played them, making them take him instead of you.”

“They took his Siphons and bound his wings,” I mumbled.

“He knew they would. He knew he could beat them even without his Siphons. He’ll be just fine.”

“I bet he’s on his way back here as we speak,” Azriel added.

Rhys snorted. “Probably.” He patted my knee. “Go get in the bath. You’ll warm up. Then get into bed. We’ll wake you up if Cassian comes back, but we’ll go out and look for him too.”

“Thank you.” I handed him the mug of hot water before making my way upstairs.

I bathed quickly, warming up and thawing out. I scrubbed the dried blood off my skin and washed it out of my hair. When I was done, I dried off, got into my thermal sleep clothing, went into the room we’d deemed the girls’ room, and burrowed down in my bed.

—

The door burst open downstairs loud enough that I woke up. Someone was calling my name.

I leapt out of bed. I recognized that roaring laughter.

“Cassian!” I shouted as I thundered down the stairs. He turned with a smile and bent down a bit so I could reach as I barreled into him, snapping my arms around his neck. He wrapped his around my waist. His squeeze was tight, and he buried his nose into my neck, taking a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. But you look like crap,” he teased playfully.

I hardly noticed as Rhys as Azriel both disappeared—literally—leaving us alone. I gave Cassian a gentle whack. “You look worse than me,” I replied.

“True,” he agreed.

“Want me to go start the bath for you?”

“Not yet. Just let me hold you for a minute. Rhys told me on our way back how he found you. I’ve been terrified since I lost sight of you that you’d get hurt.” He squeezed me tighter. “I wish I could have told you more of what I was planning, but I couldn’t risk them hearing it.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

He pressed his lips against my neck and I went stiff. We’d always teased—flirted—danced around anything genuine. That kiss was real. I felt his relief pouring through the contact into my skin.

“Cassian…” I breathed.

He pulled away immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no—it’s just—I didn’t expect…” I sighed. “I’m really glad you’re safe.” I gathered him back into my arms, kissing his cheek.

His eyes bored into mine. I couldn’t read his expression.

“How long are we going to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“This dance. Pretending we’re just playing with each other when we flirt. Pretending we only think of the other as a friend.”

“You’re pretending?”

“I have been. Have you?”

“Well, I… yes. I have been. I cannot describe how terrified I was when they dragged you away with your wings bound. How much I wanted to tell you everything I’ve never said. The fact that I’ve crushed on you since the day we met. That I keep putting up with training with you as an excuse to spend time around you. I hate combat. I’m bad at it and I don’t think I’ll ever have the coordination necessary to hold my own—but I really enjoy being with you. I wanted to tell you and never knew how.”

Cassian’s smile glittered. “I knew you hated training. I never let myself hope you were doing it to spend time with me. That very first time I saw you in Velaris, laughing with your friends in the Palace of Bone and Salt, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And I never got over that. The longer we got to know each other, the more I knew friendship would never be enough to contain my feelings for you.”

I smiled, hearing my own feelings reflected back at me. “Should we make use of the time we have before Rhys and Az come back?” I pecked his cheek.

The wolfish smile answered before he even opened his mouth. “I think we should,” he growled playfully.

Hooking a hand under my knees, he carried me upstairs.

#Cassian #Cassian Imagine #Cassian FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Take Me Instead

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

A Court Rebuilt

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Tamlin, Rhysand, Feyre

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: I have no idea where this one came from. I just thought, “What if Rhys’ sister actually survived?” and made a few detail alterations and wrote this.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Don’t really have anything else to say here besides: again, I have not read ACOSF and dunno if I’m going to, but there were loose ends I wanted to tie up. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I’d intended to winnow to the edge of the wards surrounding the manor and then walk to the front doors on foot.

I was quite surprised when I just landed on the front porch. There was no trace of the wards. No protections around the manor house. None that I could detect anyway. The front door was slightly open.

I dismissed my wings before I left home, but I felt the phantom feeling of them shuddering as I pushed the door open a little more.

Inside, the grand entrance was dusty. Dark.

Empty.

I reached out with my magic, searching for the presence of the High Lord of the manor. Please don’t be dead, I thought.

There he was. In the back. The kitchen, if I remembered correctly. It had been centuries since I’d been here, and even then I’d been very young, for a High Fae. His presence was powerful, incredible, but nowhere near the scale and scope of Rhysand’s.

I stayed on alert as I made my way through the manor, heading toward the kitchen. But there were no sounds. No servants bustling around. No sentries patrolling the garden or the halls. The manor was little more than an empty shell. An unkempt, hollow husk of its former glory and beauty.

I made it to the kitchen. The door was wide open.

Instead of going in, I leaned against the doorframe.

Tamlin’s back was to me. He looked… wan. The kitchen was barely in better shape than the rest of the house.

He stiffened as he realized he wasn’t alone, but didn’t whirl around, claws out, to defend himself. Didn’t even turn to see me. I wondered if he knew it was me without looking. He didn’t seem to indicate so.

“Good morning,” I said.

That was when he whirled. His eyes—once the vibrant green of budding trees, now dull—widened as he took me in. “You’re supposed to be dead. Centuries ago,” he said.

“Well, technically, I have you to thank for the fact that I’m not,” I replied. “Do you remember?”

“Get out,” Tamlin snarled. There was no beastly bite to the words. No fangs in his mouth. I didn’t move. Just folded my arms. “Does your perfect brother know you’re here?”

“No. I’d like to keep it that way. I didn’t come to fight, Tamlin. I came to thank you, actually. For delaying your father and brothers long enough that I managed to survive. Yes, my head was bleeding profusely as I drifted downstream. Yes, I nearly drowned and my wings were mostly torn off. Yes, I’m still gloriously furious about it. But when Rhys found me alive and got me home to heal, I was still thankful you stopped your father from finishing me off long enough for me to survive.”

“Are you done?”

“Not yet.” I held my hand out. A small sheaf of papers appeared on my palm. I set it on the kitchen table. “I’ve spent the last week brainstorming ways to rebuild your court. Feyre isn’t sorry for the devastation she left behind; and frankly I don’t think she should be. I certainly am not, given how you treated her after what happened Under the Mountain. But the fact remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands, and a strong border is necessary to keep any faeries with bad intentions out of there, and any mortals who have a death wish away from here. Tarquin is fine leaving some of his sentries on the border for as long as necessary, but eventually it would be most beneficial for the Spring Court to monitor its own lands.”

Tamlin growled. A deep, low, guttural sound that made braver faeries than me shudder. As it was, I grew up with Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Tamlin didn’t scare me. “Get out,” he snapped again.

“Those papers have a few different detailed plans for building your court up again. You can use any one you like. Or you can use none of them. That’s your choice. This isn’t the Night Court sticking its nose in the affairs of your court. Like I said, my brother doesn’t even know I’m here. This is just one person who owes you their life trying to get yours back on track. I didn’t spend the past week drafting those plans out of the goodness of my heart. I did it to make us even. I’ve spent centuries being dead to the outside world. Everywhere except home. And, if anyone asks you who came up with this, they won’t believe you if you say I gave them to you. It would be in your best interest, anyway, to say you came up with it yourself. Show you’re still strong.

“But right now, someone needed to kick you in the pants in the right direction. And since I owed you and you didn’t even know it, I figured it could be me.” I shrugged.

Tamlin’s lip curled. “You sound like your self-righteous brother.”

Don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, I reminded myself. Rhys wasn’t self-righteous. He could be cold and calculating sometimes, but his instincts were usually right. I had to remind myself that Tamlin was bitter and broken after everything. He’d been kicked after he was already down, and lashing out.

I wanted to put on the cold, amused, wicked mask Rhys used to wear as the High Lord of the terrifying Night Court; but that mask had never belonged to me, and I would never find it comfortable. “After our parents died, he was the one who finished raising me, so I suppose that would make sense,” I said levelly instead. “I’m trying to help you, Tamlin. For your sake as well as well as the sake of Prythian as a whole. Use my ideas or don’t—I owe you nothing now.”

He snarled again. I summoned my wings and flared them.

“Get some rest, Tamlin. You look tired,” I said.

As he snapped his teeth, I winnowed out of the manor. Back home.

—

The antechamber of the townhouse between the front door and the frosted glass door greeted me. I stepped through the frosted glass door.

My brother was waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the sofa. “Where have you been?” His tone was casual, but I sensed there was some irritation behind it.

“Out,” I replied.

“I guessed as much,” he said.

“Didn’t realize I had to report all of my comings and goings to you.” My words held more bite than I intended, but I managed not to flinch at them.

Rhys picked up a crystal glass with a knuckle length of liquid in it from the side table and eyed me over the top of it as he took a sip. “You don’t,” he finally said. “But I would appreciate being told you’re going out and when you think you’ll be back so I don’t worry about you when I wake up and find you gone.”

“He turned the whole house upside down looking for you!” Feyre called from the kitchen.

I instantly felt guilty. “Did you not see my note?” I asked.

“What note?” Rhys demanded.

I felt where it was in the house and then summoned it to me. “I left this on my bed. I was gonna put it in your bedside but I figured you’d check my room first if you got worried.” I handed him the paper. He unfolded it. The note was short—all it said was: Running an errand. Be back in an hour, max. -Me—but it took him a long time to read it.

His eyes turned up to me. His pupils had narrowed to tiny points. “Why do you smell of the Spring Court?” The words were strained.

I heard something clank in the kitchen. Feyre dropped something at my brother’s words.

Rhys put my note on the side table beside his drink and stood up, wings extending just a bit. He towered over me—I was only an inch shorter than Feyre but Rhys had always been so big. His eyes bored into me. I felt his talons scratching at my mental shield. Not a request for entry. An order.

“You promised never to break into my head,” I said sharply.

“I will if it means keeping these people safe. Our people. What were you doing in the Spring Court? Going for a leisurely walk through the woods?”

I flared my wings out a little too. Both of us animals trying to appear bigger than we were to be more intimidating. “I’m allowed to have a private life, Rhysand. I didn’t jeopardize the Night Court at all.”

Feyre appeared in the sitting room. I wondered if she’d considered getting in between us. I wanted to warn her off. I could deal with Rhys myself. Had been doing so long before she was born. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her help—I just wanted to handle this conversation with my brother alone.

“You revealed to Tamlin you’re alive, didn’t you?” Rhys demanded. His talons scraped harder against my mental shield. I reinforced it.

“Yes,” I said.

My brother swore as his mate gasped quietly. “Why would you do that? Do you know how dangerous—”

“Of course I do. But the fact remains that if it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. The fact remains that I owed him my life. The fact also remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands and is absolutely barren of faeries. With good reason. Feyre did the right thing in revealing to the court what kind of male he is, but that border still needs to be monitored. I know Tarquin is fine stationing sentries on the border but those sentries will eventually get tired of it, even if he swaps them out. It would be best for the Spring Court to have, at most, the ability to protect its own borders.”

“What were you doing there?”

“I spent the past week brainstorming plans for rebuilding the Spring Court. I merely delivered them, told Tamlin my debt to him was paid, and left. My life, for getting his back on track. He deserves everything that happened to him, but we need the Spring Court’s borders to be secure. Are you going to keep berating me or can I go upstairs and wash off the smell of that place?”

Rhys looked like he wasn’t going to stop glaring at me for the next decade.

I summoned one of the copies I’d made of my plans from my pocket realm and shoved them into his chest. “Go ahead. Read them. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going to go take a bath.”

I stomped over to the stairs and stomped up them. From behind, I heard Feyre say softly, “You’re being a little hard on her.”

Before I heard my brother’s reply, I slammed the door shut to my room.

—

When I emerged, freshly cleansed of all the floral scents of the Spring Court clinging to my skin, my brother was in the hallway outside my room.

“I read your plans,” he said flatly, almost begrudgingly. “The one about turning the Spring Court into a haven for faeries displaced from their homes in other courts during this past war was particularly impressive.”

I made a mental note to thank Feyre later. I assumed she had convinced him to at least be civil, even though I could tell he was still furious with me for being reckless with the secret that I was still alive. No one outside of Velaris had known that I’d been rescued and recovered from my injuries. I’d spent centuries staying solely in the city, being safe. A foray into the Spring Court was a welcome change.

I finished tying off my braid. “And?” I prompted. I wanted to see what else was on his mind.

Rhys didn’t reply immediately. Just stared at me with a sharp hone to his gaze. “And,” he repeated, “I think you made a good decision. Even if I don’t particularly relish the thought of Tamlin knowing you’re alive.”

“Thanks.”

“Also, I find it hilarious that on every single plan, you’ve written multiple times to have him claim all the ideas as his own. Though you definitely deserve the credit for it.”

“Be that as it may, it’ll look stronger coming from him. What did Feyre think?”

“Feyre hasn’t read them yet. I don’t think she wants to.”

“That’s fine. I know she’s angry at him. She has every right to be. I’m angry at him too, actually, for how he treated her. He deserves the ruin she brought upon him. He deserved being outed as the beast that he is. But, unfortunately, we need his court strong enough to protect its borders.”

“I agree. Maybe next time, though, if you have incredibly savvy political plans for another court, let me deliver them?”

“Tamlin wouldn’t have listened to you. He didn’t even want to listen to me. Not even after I told him you had no idea I was there.” I shrugged. “Next time I have savvy political plans for another court, I’ll just winnow the pages to the High Lord’s assistant’s desk under the guise of a citizen submitting them. This one was just a delivery I needed to make in person—so that he’d know I owe him nothing anymore.”

Rhys gathered me into a hug. “You’re a really annoying little sister, you know that?”

I smiled. “That’s my job.”

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #featuring #Tamlin #hooray #A Court Rebuilt

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Hold My Phone

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)

Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol

^^^^^

My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.

Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.

Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.

Playing games with them?

Always.

Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?

It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.

What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.

My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.

I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*

I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.

His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)

I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.

It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.

Happy?

Deliriously.

Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.

But I’m still bored.

Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.

What are you meeting with the governor for?

I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.

Good luck.

You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.

I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.

I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.

Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.

—

I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.

I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.

Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.

“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.

He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.

“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”

“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”

“Flirt,” I accused.

“Spoilsport,” he retorted.

His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.

Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”

More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.

He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.

“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.

“Let me silence my phone,” I said.

He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.

I smiled. “Bath before or after?”

“Hmm… after.”

“Fine with me.”

—

Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.

I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”

“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.

“Yes?”

“There’s something in the harbor.”

Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.

Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.

He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.

Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”

“Same here. Ready?”

I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”

He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.

We reappeared on the docks.

A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.

Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.

My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?

He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.

“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.

“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.

I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.

“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”

I heard that, he teased.

I meant for you to, I retorted.

Wanna see?

I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.

You know that’s not what I meant.

I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.

A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.

The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.

A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.

Wings? I asked Rhys.

Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.

I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.

The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.

Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.

Fine with me, I replied.

He shoved me out of his mind.

I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.

Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.

A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.

“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”

The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”

I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.

Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.

I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”

“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”

I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”

He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”

As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.

He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Hold My Phone

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Admin Note

Got smacked by a random burst of productivity. So, after not touching this blog for over a year, I posted a few new things and updated the character masterlists! (At least with things i wrote on this blog, not reblogged from my main blog.)

#admin note #delete later

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

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A Future That’s Worth It

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+ (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Nothing in particular.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I have some headcanons on height and weight of the characters that I used for this one. Have fun!

^^^^^

The bed dipped behind me. I’d been more than halfway to sleep, but the movement shocked me awake. I rolled over.

Rhysand gave me a lazy smile. “Evening, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“Technically no, but a little bit.”

“Sorry.” The look on his face implied he was in no way genuinely apologetic. He shuffled to get more comfortable, one wing draping over the two of us, and loosed a long sigh. I snuggled against his bare chest, eyes on his tattoos.

“Something the matter?” I asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“If I never have to truly fight again, for the rest of what will hopefully be a very long life, I will be grateful,” he said, breath fluttering my loose hairs.

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt a claw against my mental shields, a single, gentle drag against the black marble I used to keep my private thoughts private. A request for entry. I reached out tiredly to feel his own mental shield was already lowered. A rare occurrence for him. He had one of the most complex shields I’d ever experienced.

I let the shield drop. His presence overwhelmed me almost immediately. I’d probably never fully witness the extreme depth of his power, but it dominated over my little well of magic by what was probably thousands of times.

His presence was the comforting, healing darkness of lovers clinging to one another. The gentle shade under a wide oak tree on a hot summer day. Nothing of the sharp, secret darkness of spies and assassins. The soft night of dreams. “Do you feel peace, now?” I asked. “Now that the King of Hybern is dead and his army decimated?”

“It’ll take years for me to reach true peace for that, after all the pain and death and suffering. But I feel peace right now, holding you. I feel a grim tranquility in knowing I would gladly cause more carnage if it meant keeping you safe. I hated releasing that beast inside me during the war, but I’ll always go feral to protect what’s mine. You, our family, this city, our people. All of it. I would fight until my own death to ensure the future of those I’m responsible for.”

“Self-sacrificing fool,” I teased. There was no bite to the words.

“You’re one too,” he retorted with the same tired lack of malice.

“Never said I wasn’t. Therefore, you can’t call me a hypocrite.”

“Touché.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me. “Get some sleep, High Lord. We both need it.”

He brushed some of my loose hairs from my face. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” I smiled slightly.

The sweet caress of his darkness in my mind soothed all the day’s worries. If neither of us ever had to pick up a blade for a battle ever again, it would be too soon.

I reached up with the hand around his waist and stroked the bone of his wing. He shivered, but he’d taught me where to touch to calm, and where to touch to excite. His other muscles were pliant, relaxed, as I ran my fingers gently over his wing.

We put each other to sleep not long after that.

—

“—told him it was a bad idea, but he was just like, ‘Stop telling me how to live my life!’” Mor’s loud voice woke me the next morning as the doors opened downstairs, the last bit dropping as low as she could go in a horrible but hilarious imitation of Cassian. Amren’s laughter followed.

The bed was empty besides me, but Rhys’ side was still warm.

I got up and pulled on my dressing gown over my nightgown. I brushed my hair briefly so it wasn’t quite so tangled and ventured out of our room.

Mor and Amren had already made it to the kitchen and were raiding the pantry for breakfast.

“What’s a bad idea?” I asked around a yawn.

“Cassian was gonna challenge Azriel to a flying race. From the House to the roof here,” Mor explained, pointing directly overhead.

“Azriel’s gonna win,” I said.

“That’s what I said. Cassian didn’t listen.”

I chuckled, joining them for breakfast.

Amren looked around. “Where’s your High Lord?”

“I was gonna ask you two the same thing. I assumed he got out of bed and came down to talk to you guys. Sheets were still warm when I woke up.”

Mor’s expression turned to one of amused dread. “He’s gonna join the race,” she said.

“I bet you’re right,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes. “They are five-and-a-half centuries old and they still behave like children.”

“Glad you’re his mate and not me,” Amren said with a smile as she drank from her goblet and shuddered. She hated food still, but she no longer had a choice.

“Frankly, me too,” I said. “I can’t imagine the chaos the two of you would cause.”

Mor laughed.

I assume you’re at the House of Wind? I thought down the bond, pushing the thought hard to make sure he received it.

Yep, Rhys’ voice replied in my mind.

I’ll be on the roof. Mor and I will referee.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The words were too laced with laughter to be the truth.

Children. All three of you, I fired back.

All I got in return was his rumbling laughter. Distant thunder promising a welcome summer storm.

“Wanna join me on the roof?” I offered to Mor and Amren.

“Not really,” Amren replied.

“I will,” Mor said.

The two of us climbed up the stairs and sat on the white-painted iron chairs. Mor had a cup of tea and I had a mug of molten chocolate.

I looked up at the House of Wind. So far, there were no figures flying around its peak.

Mor lounged on her chair and eyed me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. The early spring air was still clinging to the cold of winter and my satin dressing gown and nightgown were clinging to the cold right along with it, but it was something of a welcome change after the stifling heat under the covers in bed. “I’ll be fine for how long it’ll take Rhys and his brothers to get here.”

You ready? I asked.

Waiting on you, he replied.

We’re ready.

Then look up.

“They’re going,” I said to Mor, turning my attention back to the House.

Sure enough, three figures leapt off a balcony near the peak, streaking in a straight line toward us, wings barely extended to keep them aloft and at the angle they wanted. From their distance I couldn’t make out who was who yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Five gold marks on Azriel,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to always bet on Rhys?” Mor teased.

“Azriel is lighter than Rhys and Cassian. I’m making an educated guess.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five gold marks on Rhys then.”

We watched them get closer.

“Rhys is going to be offended you bet against him,” Mor remarked.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Rhys can winnow and Azriel… kinda does to. With the shadows. I’m not sure how he does it,” Mor mused. “But, Cassian—he just flies everywhere. So he’s probably a little better at it than both of them. More practiced, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah… how about, if Cassian wins, we each give Amren five marks?”

Mor laughed. “She’d love and hate that. That we made her bet for her and chose Cassian.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But she wouldn’t mind the money.”

“Not at all.”

I caught glints of blue and red. Rhys was on the left, no Siphons, with Cassian in the middle and Azriel to the right. I still couldn’t tell who was in front, but it looked like I might have been right about Azriel. He looked like he was barely ahead of Rhys and Cassian.

As the three drew closer, I realized this was the future we’d fought the war for. The future full of fun and joy. The future of stupid games and meaningless bets. No gambling lives. Just a few marks for no reason other than fun. If Rhys never turned into that beast again, if he’d done enough to ensure our safety and security—finally—then it was all worth it.

They were close enough to see their faces now. Mor and I cleared a place where three could land all close to the same time and not knock over any furniture or trip. While Mor thought it’d be funny, I didn’t want anyone to face-plant off the roof.

Azriel slammed feet first into the roof. I thought I heard the attic rattle. Rhys hit barely half a second after, with Cassian right behind.

Mor gave me a long-suffering glance and sipped her tea. “I owe you five marks,” she said before flouncing back downstairs.

“You placed bets?” Cassian asked.

“You’re surprised?” I retorted sharply. Azriel snorted quietly.

“Fair enough,” Cassian said.

“You bet against me?” Rhys sounded offended even as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth banished the cold clinging to my dressing gown.

I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to rise to his bait. “Azriel’s lighter than both of you. Skinnier. He can probably cut through the air easier. I made an educated guess,” I said, repeating what I said to Mor. I tilted up onto my tiptoes and kissed Rhys’ chin, since he was too tall for me to reach his cheek.

Rhys chuckled. “That’s okay, because I owe Cassian ten marks. I bet on Azriel too.” He kissed my forehead. The four of us still on the roof started making our way down. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever anyone can find!” Mor shouted from below.

I grabbed Rhys’ wrist and held him so Cassian and Azriel would get ahead of us. When we were alone, I wrapped my arms around him. “This is the future we—you—fought for,” I whispered. “Is it worth it, to you?”

“I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

“Me neither.”

We held each other for a few more moments.

Then Cassian was calling us to haul downstairs before the food was gone.

Laughing, we descended.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #A Future That's Worth It

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Mountain Night

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-13/T (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Just kinda skimming back through ACOTAR and felt like it.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This has a couple extra headcanons of mine sprinkled in here, just to fill in gaps. Thanks. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I stood in front of the fireplace next to Rhysand, watching the flames. Somewhere within the Mountain, a bell tolled eight, agreeing with the clock on Rhys’ mantel. Rhys’ shoulders slumped. “Amarantha’s gonna be summoning me any time now,” he said. Dejected, exhausted. But not defeated.

I reached out and held him. “Not much longer now. The forty-nine years of Tamlin’s curse are almost over. Then… then we’ll see if we can break the spell on you and the other High Lords and get out of here,” I said into his shoulder. I traced my fingertips over his shoulder blades, where his wings met his back when he had them out. Amarantha didn’t even know he had wings—and he wanted to keep it that way.

“We can only pray,” he said, wrapping his own arms around me.

The mating bond thrummed between us. Neither of us had accepted it. Acted on it. If we did, Amarantha would smell it on us. Destroy me for what I meant to Rhys, just to torment him. It drove us both mad—wild, occasionally—but we’d fought it for years. We could fight it until we were free.

I kissed his barely-exposed collarbone, where the hint of his tattoos were poking out.

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand,” I whispered.

He shuddered. “Happy Starfall, darling,” he replied. His voice shook slightly. He blinked away tears and released me from the hug. Still holding one of my hands, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

His eyes, so dark blue they were violet, seemed to be piercing right into my soul. “I swear to you, when we’re free, we will never have to hide our love from anyone,” he said.

I smiled. “That will be nice.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Go. Be safe. Walk through the walls as a shadow so she doesn’t see you leaving.” He pressed his forehead to mine.

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I let his hands go. Darkness swam over my skin, almost like how they did with Azriel. Az… I missed our family.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I backed toward the opposite wall from the fireplace, my lower body passing through the unrumpled bed. I wiped the tears away, staring at Rhys for as long as I could before I was swallowed by the wall.

I lingered in the wall for a while, letting my tears fall in the privacy of the stone. Inches from Rhys, yet I may as well have been on the other side of the Wall on the farthest end of the human continent. Forty-nine years. So close, trapped, together Under the Mountain. Mates unable to accept their bond for fear of their lives.

I heard the door open to Rhys’ room. “Well, hello, handsome,” Amarantha’s smooth voice greeted.

The sound sent me running. I knew Rhys hated every single night she forced herself on him. I knew he wouldn’t want me to hear. Knew he was ashamed of it, but willing to keep doing it to keep our family and our home safe.

I loved him all the more for it.

Even if the dormant mating bond chafed against me at the thought of another female in bed with my mate.

Stupid territorial instincts.

I burst out of the stone in my own bedchamber. Small, not particularly grand. Sometimes I imagined it was the guest room I usually occupied in the Velaris townhouse. When I was desperately in need of comfort. Neither Rhys nor I had seen the sun much in the last forty-nine years. Sometimes, in midsummer, Rhys, Helion, me, and a few closely trusted people would gather in one of our bedchambers and let Helion glow, imitating the sun.

Then Rhys would cast a blanket of darkness through the room. Darkness and those glittering stars. A night sky we never got to see either.

Neither High Lord had enough power to hold the light or dark for too long, but the brief snatches we got of both were enough to keep hoping. Enough to keep us from breaking entirely. From shattering down to our very souls.

I collapsed on my bed. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared a few minutes later. Just to sit with me. Their touches were light as I cried. It felt like they were barely embracing me. But I knew they were there. Appreciated their care and concern. As well as their company. If it weren’t for Rhys and Helion, I would have certainly gone mad a long time ago.

“My lady,” Nuala said softly, “how may we ease your pain?”

I shook my head. “Just… just sit with me a while.”

The twins nodded. “We serve and protect,” Cerridwen said.

The three of us stayed on the edge of my bed for hours. Hours, I knew, Rhys was spending with Amarantha. On Starfall. Because she knew he loved it, and she wanted to deprive him of it. Just as, if she found out we were mates, she would want to deprive him of me. Slowly. Painfully. In every way possible before I finally died. Hoping to break him beyond repair.

But my High Lord’s soul was forged in hotter fires, even, than this half-century-long trial. He would never let her break him. Even if she found out about his relation to me.

Long after midnight, Cerridwen pulled a small comb out of my hair that I’d forgotten I’d put in. A small, silver thing with a single star engraved into the top. No jewels, just metal. A simple ornament to remind myself it was Starfall. To remind Rhys.

Even if I had forgotten I put it in.

The twins helped me with the stiff buttons of my tunic and shirt and then left me for the evening to finish undressing and climbing into bed.

I didn’t sleep.

Forty-nine years, and I never slept the night of Starfall. Nor the Winter Solstice.

—

Rhys slipped into my room well into the next morning. I was still lying in bed, eyes closed but awake. He set a hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes.

His wings were out.

I sat up quickly. “What—why—”

He just held a finger to his lips. “So you know it’s me. Not some illusion. She didn’t see. I didn’t let them out until I closed the door in here.” His wings tilted backwards and then disappeared.

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“This kills me,” he whispered. “I should never have brought you to that party. Then you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“It was my choice too,” I reminded him, sitting up from his shoulder. “I thought… I thought you’d need backup. Someone to distract anyone who came too near while you were getting into her head to make her confess. It kills me that I didn’t think to test your drink for curses. Sniff it for poisons. I want to kill her for all she’s taken from you. For the fact that we’ve lived like this for decades. That I can’t take you to be mine because of her. Some nights it makes me sick thinking about my mate being forced to bed a different female. This isn’t your fault, Rhysand. It’s mine too.”

I never called him his full given name to his face unless I was serious about something. He knew it too. Which was why his violet eyes finally met mine from where our knees were almost touching.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

“I feel the same way about you.”

He kissed my forehead.

Forty-nine years. The bond had snapped into place thirty years ago, even though we’d known each other for two centuries before that. Thirty years of not being able to even kiss him on the lips for fear of us both losing control and accepting the bond on both ends. Slamming our scents together in an unmistakeable sign we were mates.

“I promise, I’ll find a way to get us out of this,” Rhysand vowed, voice low.

“I’ll help any way I can,” I said.

It wasn’t a bargain, per se. Not the type that required a tattoo. Just a quiet promise between two people in love.

Nuala appeared in the room. “Amarantha’s calling a party for tonight,” she said. “Throne room. The usual.”

“Thank you,” Rhys and I said at the same time. She nodded and disappeared.

Silence stretched out between us for a few minutes. Long enough that it started to make me uncomfortable. I got out of bed and started selecting clothes for the day. Awful, immodest, wicked, Under the Mountain clothes.

“What do you think?” Rhysand finally asked.

“About?” I tested.

“The party tonight.”

“It’ll be just like all the other ones.”

“Wanna shake things up?”

“No. A party just like all the other ones is how we’ve survived this long.” I picked up a brush from where it sat on my basic vanity, set my clothes bundle where the brush had been, and started to detangle my hair. “We survive by playing our roles. Wearing masks even worse than those at the Spring Court, stuck to their faces. The people here—they know what you are. They know what I am. They know I will pretend to tolerate their company while the monster inside sizes up its prey. They know you do the same thing. Changing it now won’t be good for us.” I shook my head.

“What if you arrive in your most revealing gown and we pretend to be lovers that will use and discard each other?”

I didn’t answer until I finished brushing out my hair. “You know that would be dangerous.”

“It would distract Amarantha.”

I threw the brush across the room, where it bounced off the padded headboard, soaring an inch past Rhysand’s ear. “I’m not talking about Amarantha!” I snapped. Rhys looked startled, though the expression smoothed out after the blink of an eye. “You know why we can’t do that to each other. Not now. Because… because—” I squared my shoulders. “—because having you so close, playing that game… you know neither of us would be able to help it. We’d come back here, shred each other’s clothes, and tomorrow Amarantha would start slowly butchering both of us.”

He looked away from me, down to his knees. I crossed to the door that would lead to my tiny adjoining bathing room. “I know,” he said softly. He stood up and stomped over to me as something seemed to rile his temper. “But don’t assume for a second that she hasn’t noticed you have never taken a lover your entire time here. Everyone else has—except you.”

“So what?”

“She doesn’t like being beaten at her own game. Everyone else takes lovers because she expects them to grow more and more wicked and base as their souls wear down and break. For pretty much everyone else, she’s been right. She thinks she broke me like a prize stallion with very little effort. She sees that you’re not breaking—and she’ll want to start working on wearing you down. Tamlin’s deadline is crawling ever-nearer and she’s getting paranoid and restless. She’ll turn you into entertainment just for defying her like this.”

My shoulders slouched. “Even so, she’d never give up you. And I’m not about to take any other male while I’m here, knowing it’s you I should be taking.” The barest flicker of feeling twitched at the mating bond between us. Which emotion, I couldn’t place.

Rhys looked thoughtful. “She’d let me have a side-dalliance as long as she suspected there was nothing behind it. No care, no emotion at all. Just base, primal, carnal instincts we’d later toss aside.” He shrugged. I missed the sight of his wings sweeping the air with his shrugs back home.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

“Your choice.”

It was always my choice. Even when things directly impacted him, or hurt his feelings, it was always my choice. “What about your choice?”

“Well, given I suggested it, I think you already know what my choice would be.” He gave me one of his best, sensuous, seductive grins. Wickedly flirtatious. Appealing to that part of me that was absolutely feral deep down. My chest tightened and I clamped down on the longing rising in my heart.

“Fine. But we can’t let—we can’t let the bond solidify. She can’t know.”

Rhys grinned. “I think you’re going to need to choose a different dress, darling.” He gave me a wink.

If I hadn’t already thrown my hairbrush at him, I’d have done it again.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #don't know how else to tag these #Mountain Night

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Darker Shadows

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Azriel

Rating: PG-11/T-

Original Idea: Nothing in particular. Finished the first 4 books. Dunno if I can stand Nesta long enough to read ACOSF, so I wrote this with no information from ACOSF. Have fun.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Whaaaaa...? I break my ongoing hiatus for this? Yep. I did. I hope a few more one-shots join this one, but I am making no promises. This one just came to me for about an hour so surprise! Happy August.

^^^^^

“Darker Shadows”

Azriel said nothing as he slipped through the door to our apartment, quiet and soft as the shadows surrounding him. I watched from the sitting room adjacent to the foyer. He must have known I was there—the shadows must have informed him—but he didn’t so much as look at me. Just rested his forehead on the door and sighed.

“Long day?” I asked.

He blinked his eyes open and turned. “Incredibly,” he replied.

I patted the sofa next to me, indicating he come sit.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to grow more numerous around him as he crossed to me. I realized why as his leathers thumped to the floor in his wake, leaving him in a light undershirt and undershorts.

No matter how long we lived together, he was always so modest.

Part of me wondered if it was more insecurity than modesty; but I would never invade his privacy that much to ask. He’d tell me when he was comfortable.

He hit the sofa cushion next to me hard. His wings barely missed getting caught behind him. Ever the precise, too. One arm and one wing wrapped over my shoulders. He was warm, even if his underclothes were cold from his sweat. I snuggled into his side. We both stared at the fire for a while.

“Did you eat up at the House?” I asked.

The shadows shrouding him retreated a little, going back to their usual shades. He glanced at me with those sharp hazel eyes before returning his gaze to the fire. “Yes. Rhys and Feyre were hosting a dinner for the Palace governors. A private celebration of rebuilding the city so quickly before the grand, public celebration in three days.”

I snorted. “Bet they loved that,” I said sarcastically. Among the family, it was well-known that Rhys and Feyre both hated formal parties and dinners with a fiery passion.

A glimmer of amusement joined the reflection of the flames in Azriel’s eyes. “Oh, they slipped out an hour in. I heard them in the library… having fun amongst the stacks. I left them to it and didn’t interrupt.”

I couldn’t stop the laughter that burst from my throat, but clamped it down hard to not disturb the neighbors.

Azriel held me tighter. “Would have been more enjoyable if you were there,” he said. His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t actually want to admit it.

Reaching up, I cupped the side of his face. “Sorry I couldn’t go. I’d have liked to have been there.” I gestured to my wrapped leg. “I just don’t think I could handle a party today. If Rhysand had decided to host it three days from now with the rest of the celebrations, I would have been able to make it.” I made a face. “Sorry I missed it.”

“It’s alright. I understand.”

I reached around his wing to the end table, picking up my glass and handing it to him. He downed the rest and handed it back to me. I chuckled and set the glass on the coffee table instead.

After shuddering at the freezing chill of the water from my glass, Azriel turned to me. “How’s the pain?”

I shrugged. “Better than it was,” I said.

“At least you’re healing quickly.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How did you spend your night?”

I waved a vague hand to the small pile of books on the coffee table. “Just decided to read a little.”

“A little?” Azriel quoted. “You read five novels in four hours.”

“Oh, no. I didn’t finish them all. When I got bored I’d switch between them.”

“None of them holding your attention?”

“Not like they used to. Not since—”

The War with Hybern. Azriel knew. We all broke in some way over the course of it. I hadn’t had the attention span I used to since.

Azriel smiled at me. “Bathe, then bed?”

“Sounds great,” I replied.

He scooped me into his lap and stood up. I yelped at the sensation. My bad leg dangled looser than my good leg. My yelp earned me a twitched smile from my spymaster.

He carried me into the bathing room and sat me on the edge of the tub before turning it on. As it began to warm up and fill, he helped me unwrap my splint and undress. I returned the favor as best I could.

We bathed quickly and then got in our sleep clothes after drying off. After carrying me to bed, Azriel poked the point of my ear. “Goodnight,” he said softly.

I smiled, never able to contain my affection. “Sleep well,” I replied.

He doused the faelights and climbed under the covers.

We snuggled against each other. One of his wings draped over the both of us, keeping us warmer than the covers could. That warmth, his scent… it helped lull me to sleep. I could fall fast asleep on stone if Azriel was beside me.

—

Azriel watched his own scarred hand brush her nightshirt away from the skin of her back, revealing two sharp scars and an elaborate tattoo. Another rare Illyrian/High Fae hybrid, she’d been born with wings. Unlike Rhys, who could summon and desummon his wings at will, hers had been permanent.

Until her High Fae mother ordered her wings removed when she was still a child. Barely more than a toddler.

Azriel hadn’t met her until Rhys disappeared Under the Mountain. She’d been fifty-seven-years-old at the time. He’d seen her in the Rainbow, in one of the pottery studios, on a hot summer day. Her clothing revealed her back. The deep, disgustingly neat scars that made it clear how her wings had been taken from her, and the deep blue-black ink covering most of the exposed skin. She’d told him once she got it to both hide and show off the scars. When he’d asked why, she’d simply replied, “I’m stronger than the people who tried to hurt me.”

She hadn’t told him it was her mother—who’d wanted her to be a normal High Fae—for another decade.

He hadn’t been in love with her at the time. But during those fifty years everyone was stuck in Velaris, they became good friends. Azriel found her company much more peaceful than the other members of the Inner Circle. He loved them all—his family—but there was no harm, or shame, in being around someone who was quiet.

Then, a human girl broke Tamlin’s curse and Amarantha was dead. The High Lords and the members of their courts were released from Under the Mountain. And Rhys came home. And Azriel was both busier and freer than ever to spend time with his new friend.

He’d been so quietly pining for Morrigan for so long that, at first, he hadn’t realized the subject of his affections had changed.

During that final battle, when Prythian’s forces were spread so thin and even every reinforcement that came didn’t seem to make a dent… she’d taken a hit. A bad slash across the lower back.

And Azriel had seen red. His powers had already been mostly used up, his Siphons dim, and his wings badly injured.

But he’d gone to rescue her anyway.

His wings had screamed at him the entire flight back to a healer’s tent and then back to the battle. But during those moments, as she bled in his arms, he knew his feelings had transcended just friendship. “If we get out of this alive,” he’d said, “I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

She’d hummed, her side vibrating against his torso. “Mmm… dinner sounds nice. Afterwards, I can buy dessert.”

“We’ll see,” Azriel had said, smiling.

After they’d both healed and returned to Velaris, they’d done just that.

They’d been together ever since.

Azriel smiled at the memories.

—

“You’re staring,” I said quietly. His staring and touching had woken me.

“You’re incredible,” Azriel replied. “Have I told you that?”

“Today? No. This week? Many times.”

A soft chuckle. “So long as you know it.”

I rolled over so I was facing him. With his wing bent over both of us, I felt like I was in a sheet fort.

His eyes harbored a small glint in the half-light. I stared at him. “What is it?” His question was gentle.

I shrugged, feeling my scars pulling on my skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you,” he said.

“Charmer,” I teased.

That earned me a chuckle. Though his smile dropped after a moment. “Does it bother you?” He asked.

“What?”

“That you can’t fly?”

My humor disappeared. The phantom wings I still felt sometimes shivered in the back of my mind. “Sort of,” I replied. “I’d only barely taught myself how when Mother forced me to get them removed. It’s hard to miss what I didn’t really know. But I remember the wind over my scalp. My entire body fighting desperately to keep me aloft. I loved it. But now… now I get to fly with you and remember what it felt like. It’s not quite the same, but it’s enough for me.”

Azriel kissed my forehead. “Sorry I woke you,” he said.

“It’s okay. Any extra time I get to spend with you is worth it,” I replied with a smile.

#Azriel Shadowsinger #Azriel #Azriel Imagine #Azriel FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #Darker Shadows

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