#i do not see a romance ever blossoming there. not even an enemies to lovers kinda thing. they're both too busy playing 5d chess for that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefairyletters · 3 years

Note

I saw you rb a SaiSaku post and was curious if you had any fanfic recs for this rarepair?!

Do I have?!!!!! I am currently binging this ship so you couldn't have asked this at better time.

This pair is not a crack ship! Crack would mean they have not shared more than two words with each other. But SaiSaku interactions always bordered on romance and best friends who don't act like it. Not only Sakura was the first person to acknowledge Sai had human side to him and bonded with him over his painting, Sai was also the only person outside Sasuke (in part 1) to be able tell her fake smiles and he always understood her feelings better than other characters. Had Sakura ever only cared for good looks (something she don't) then with Sai she'd get that and so much more.

I have always considered SaiSaku as the next best thing after NaruSaku. They had too much potential as a couple. I am not bitter that InoSai became a thing but looking at them I only feel that "Ino didn't get Sasuke so she get his look-alike." Besides, Sai gave people nicknames that are opposites to what actually feels about them – Naruto as Dickless, Sakura as Hag/Ugly and Ino as Beautiful – which makes it worse. Both Ino and Sai deserve better than this. If Kishi has shown them together more often or had interactions between them similar to SaiSaku then I can understand why Ino is his light. I guess it is also SP's fault for showing them in different light. For all SP hates Sakura, they enjoy messing up with her fans by feeding them false hope.

Whenever I want to read something hilarious but deep, SaiSaku is my to-go couple. Usually angsty, or full bout of insults and punches. There's no in between with them.

. SaiSaku .

This list contains my favorite SaiSaku collection. I am not sure if you like SaiSaku only as romance ship but this list also contain stories that expands on SaiSaku friendship, something I absolutely adore.

Could Roses Bloom? : RiseoftheBlossom || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || GaaSaku, SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || Ongoing

Sai glanced downwards at his body, the sudden override of his thoughts causing his mind to blank. What did that mean? Had he been straying too close to a piece of information Danzo didn't want him to have or share? Or was it his mind's natural response to shutting down any form of emotion, even if it was just the slightest of inclination towards feeling something?

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, SaiSaku friendship, confused-over-his-feelings!Sai, slow burn, GaaSaku, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, angst with fluff

hello, bright eyes (been waiting on you) : mouseymightymarvellous || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

“look underneath the underneath,” except no one has ever really bothered to look at sakura and see her. and then there is a boy (isn’t there always). maybe they’re both just ghosts, making each other real.

Go for it if you like: enemies-to-friends-to-lovers troupe, confused-over-her-feelings!Sakura, boys who are bad at feelings, Sakura who is unlucky with romance, Sai and Sakura who don't feel like they belong, angst with fluff, sad!Sai

Oh God That’s Heaven : blueberrysconesandfolkmusic || T || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Angst, Romance || One Shot

Sakura finds Sai sick, alone, and in desperate need of a hand that doesn't hurt.

Go for it if you like: boys who are bad at feelings, bleeding-heart!Sakura, sad-and-lonely!Sai, Sai and Sakura who are secretly best friends, Sai with PTSD, protective!team7

for everything blue and bright : sinemoras09 || M || AO3 || Shippuden AU || SaiSaku, SasuSaku || Angst || One Shot

The five stages of human arousal.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, obsessed!Sakura, One-sided love, Unrequited-love-no-matter-how-you-look-at-it!SaiSaku, no-good-very-bad!Ending, pining!Sai, bittersweet lemon

A mess of me : Dovey || M || AO3 || Pre-Shippuden AU || SaiSaku || Yandere Romance || Complete

In which Sai is a good ANBU agent with an unusual hobby, and Sakura grows up with a #1 fan rooting for her....even if she doesn't know it. Or: Sai starts stalking Sakura when they're both young to satisfy his curiousity about 'normalcy', gets attached, and eventually gets very frustrated that nobody else seems to notice her potential as a shinobi and takes matters into his own hands- and delights in being Sakura's prime source of validation because of it.

Go for it if you like: obsessed!Sai, manipulation, stalker!Sai, mentor!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, distraught!Kakashi, fluff, baby-Sai-stalking-baby-Sakura, abusive haruno household

There is sunshine on his forehead : amako || T || AO3 || Soulmate AU || SaiSaku but it's complicated || Angst, Hurt/Comfort || One Shot

Sakura is only three when she promises herself that Sasuke will die by her hand, whoever he is.

Go for it if you like: dysfunctional Team 7, Soulmate AU, Unrequited love feels, angst heavy, Sai and Sakura only want to belong, NaruSasu, NaruSaku but not really, betrayal heavy, no fluff only pain, SaiSaku, Team 7 taking Sakura for granted, Sakura is so done

In theory : nimblnymph || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Humor || One Shot

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Sai was about to learn that this theory applied to more than just physics. And that putting theory into practice sometimes gave unexpected results.

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, teacher!Sakura, student!Sai, Sai getting educated, Sakura educating Sai, Kisses, Sai being Sai, Sakura with patience of god

Loathing : i AM the Random Idiot || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Romance, Angst || One Shot

Define "hatred."

Go for it if you like: oblivious!Sai, hurt!Sai, Angst, Onions, SakuSai bonding over mutual hate, love is overrated anyway

Bunk Mates : ice bitten || T || FFN || Shippuden || Team 7 || Humor, Friendship || One Shot

In which Sasuke and Naruto find out Sakura has been sleeping over at Sai's. Short stories surrounding Sakura, Sai, and the invasive people of Konoha.

Go for it if you like: sassy!Sai, protective!Team7, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, Perfect characterisation, Canon feels

Paint me with Colour : PeregrineFlight || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku|| Humor, Friendship || Incomplete

Sai and Sakura must travel to the Land of Lightning to retrieve something for the Daimyo, they have to travel as a married couple. Much to Naruto's amusement.

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sai, SaiSaku friendship, roommates, Sai being Sai, pretend marriage, SaiSaku bonding over mission, fluffy angst, adorable!Sai

Forget Me Not : Joy-girl || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || Team 7 || Angst, Friendship || Complete

Sometimes it's easy to forget how important someone is when the person is always in the background – but Sakura's boys still remember. Glimpses of her importance from each member of her team.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, underappreciated Sakura, Team7 family, Family feels, sad!Sakura, protective!Team7 males, Sakura appreciation, SaiSaku bond, Team7Saku feels, avenger!Teammates

Add Me Colour : Cella N || T || FFN || post-Shippuden || SaiSaku || Drama, Romance || Complete

"All my life is white. Paint me. Add me colour."

Go for it if you like: lonely!Sakura, Sai being Sai, confused!Sakura, angst, poetic translation, colors

Euphemisms : Nymbis || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor, Romance || Complete(?)

Drabbles about Sai, Sakura, and their strange attempts at bonding.

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, Hilarious friendships, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches, Raunchy stuff

Ricochet : Strix 4 || T || FFN || Shippuden AU || Team 7 || Family, Drama || Complete(?)

Sometimes it's easy to see the familiar in the faces around you. Sometimes it sucks to figure out why.

Go for it if you like: fluffy angst, Sakura's place in team 7, Team7 as family, Family feels, wise!Sakura, SaiSaku bond, Sai's place in team 7

Pick up lines : Demoneyes 14 || T || FFN || Shippuden || SaiSaku || Humor || One Shot

Ero sennin's pick up lines! Guaranteed to get the girl or your money back! Well... it would be more guaranteed if it hadn't fallen on his face in the library, but heck, Sai will try anything once! Maybe it will save him a beating from Sakura...

Go for it if you like: Sai being Sai, Sakura being Sakura, SaiSaku friendship, loveggression, love-hate relationship, Insults, Sai's brand of humor, fluff with punches

Special mentions...

Study of the Heart : teresa

In an effort to become a better friend, Sai undertakes a study of love, not really understanding how difficult it could be, and how surprising.

The Blood of a Cherry Blossom : Slytherin Kunoichi

Originally, for Halloween, Sai hadn't decided what to go as, but once he glimpsed at the bleeding flesh on Sakura's neck, he suddenly had the urge to be a vampire…

Old Dogs, New Tricks : yuugiri

After an unprecedented turn of events, the Fifth Hokage has officially assigned Sakura Haruno the responsibility to make Sai recover what he had lost; his emotions. With a time limit of a month, will Sakura succeed in this mission?

Once More, With Feeling : Cynchick

Sakura didn't know what she was thinking when she showed up on his doorstep.

Ink Me : Krickitat

Exploring the art of bod-modification Sakura takes a step into the unknown world of the exquisite pain of art.

The Uchiha Secret : Slytherin Kunoichi

Sasuke froze as he stared at Sai's eyes, which were identical to his Uchiha Sharingan eyes now: red with anger and black with hatred...One family secret could threaten and shake three lives forever. Bonds will be broken.

My babies don't get enough love in the world.

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lrissa · 3 years

Text

Save Humanity For me

summary: the expedition to take back wall Maria doesn’t go as Levi hoped when he saves his battered lover.

warnings: angst

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

There you were, standing on Wall Maria as you stared off into the horizon. The sun was still coming up from its slumber as it spilled hues of orange and red over the sky. You stood beside Erwin, Levi, and Eren as the rest of the scouts clanked their blades against the stone to find our enemies. Thinking it was a waste of time you persisted on staying standing on the wall.

From the corner of your eye you saw Levi, his raven hair swayed in the morning gust of wind as he stood broadly, his shoulders rolled back into place as always.

You have known Levi for what felt like eternity, you both equaled each other in the perfect ways, you were the brains he was brawns despite him already being intelligent and witty. There even sparked a romance between you two that began when you both went together to take back Eren.

Turning your posture to face him, you raised you hand and set it on his forearm. His gaze flickered to you in an instant. As you were about to speak a loud shot rang through the air as red smoke flew through the sky. Right below you.

A gust of wind flew past you as the last thing you saw go down the wall was a dark green cape and raven hair. Unsheathing your own blades you took hastily step forward until Erwin put his arm out to stop you.

When you looked down you saw Reiner and a blade jammed through his neck, along with an angry Levi that stuck another blade through his chest. Your face contorted into one of disgust and shock.

You saw Levi retreat back to the wall as Reiner began to arch his back in the ground.

"Levi!" You yelled just as a large beam of yellow lightning crashed onto the ground and erupted snakes of yellow electricity and large gusts of wind.

There laid the armored titan, your eyes hyper fixed on the titan as Erwin began to spew orders at the scouts.

"Keep on the lookout! Locate his allies!"

Yellow beams of light and dirt shot up from the ground surrounding the outer village immediately. Breath hitched in your throat as you quickly realized you were trapped, by hundreds of titans and a monkey.

Levi swung up from the wall and landed neatly behind you, putting a protective hand on your back as he himself analyzed the danger we just got ourselves into.

Erwin stood dumbstruck as the scouts began to shout worries and yells for Erwins next plan. You and Levi stood quietly behind him as you felt Levi rubbing your back softly, a gesture he does often.

"Are you finally ready to say something. I could've had breakfast during the wait." Levi remarked with a monotonous voice.

Erwin turned around and began giving distinct orders. Levi and Hanji's squad were meant to be taking down Reiner.

"...Give your hearts!" Was the last thing you caught from his speech as everyone began to departure, Levi's hand leaving your back.

"Wait, Armin, Levi, Y/N" Erwin commanded as you halted in your steps, turning around.

"I did say Levi's squad but I need you and Y/N to stay."

"To protect the horses and not Eren?" Levi shot back

"Yes, and strike him down when the time comes." Erwin unsheathed his blade and pointed at the beast titan, shivers ran down your spine.

"Understood" Levi cooly spoke "Since I failed to kill that armored brat earlier."

"Y/N." Erwin stated as Levi was nearing the edge of the wall, curious as to where you were assigned to so if needed he could help aid you.

"Do not let a single titan near those horses." You nodded "Of course." Pulling the hood over your head you ran to the edge of the wall beside Levi and jumped off together.

Nearing the separation time you and Levi looked at one another, exchanging nods that held the words 'please, be safe'. Taking off in separate directions you flew forwards as Levi spun around on his ODM gear, spinning in the air as he unsheathed his blades to take down the titan below him.

Racing forwards you stared at the beast titan, it looked as if it was staring daggers at you. Shaking your head you gazed down and found a titan running.

Unsheathing your blades you stared down at the demon as you unleashed your ODM on it, the slight nick in its shoulder made it spin its head at you. It had huge blue eyes and a small frown on its features, if only you cared was all you could think when you diverged its hand and spun around it, spinning backwards to fixate yourself back on your target. Releasing your ODM on its nape as you readied to strike, tearing your blades through its nape and exiting hastily.

This carried on for only about 15 minutes until you landed on a rooftop, titan blood finding itself on your clothes and face, steam fluttering into the air.

Looking around the rooftops you spotted a certain raven haired man, a slight smile plastering on your features. You released an ODM and began to race towards him.

Until, bits of rock flew past your eyes. Time began to slow as you turned your head at the cause. The beast titan.

A rock nicked your arm as you let out grunt and shot your ODM behind a building, hiding in the small alley as blood cascaded down your arm.

"What the fuck.." you muttered

Seeing the rocks stopped you shot your ODM at the top of the building and flew up, as you soared above the buildings momentarily all you saw was red. Corpses were stuffed under rocks, faces half missing, blood and guts stained scout uniforms.

"Levi!" you yelled once you landed on a roof, noticing the beast titan reach for a new rock.

"Levi!" you yelled louder this time, just as you see a raven head fly past you. His eyes caught yours for a moment and they widened a fraction.

He was going straight for the titan, why is he going straight for it. These thoughts screamed at you in your mind as you shot to follow him.

When he heard the shot of ODM gear he never expected you to follow him, why would this brat girl follow him into a clear death zone.

The beast titan threw a new round of its rocks, you had still been mid air when he sent off this blow. Considering your chances of survival you shut your eyes, small tears had formed at the corners of your eyes. You released your ODM and tried your best to maneuver into a small ball.

As you awakened your new demise you couldn't help but hear screaming, screaming from the scouts who had lived up until now to die, everything they've done in their live to die in this moment. But one scream stood out, it wasn't screaming to scream but rather at someone. Ah, Levi, my new romance would have to come to an end. It's sad, being the last thing you hear are the curdled screams from your blossoming lover. Tears were streaming down your face now, it's time, isn't it.

Just as you predicted you felt a stone shard rip right through your uniform and flesh, lodging itself into your stomach region. This time you screamed.

You lost control of your ball formation and fell straight for the ground below you, turning in the air so your stomach laid up as you clutched it tightly, screams still emitting from your mouth.

The hard ground never met you, but instead arms, shaking arms.

"Brat... idiot.. why, Y/N" You groaned and lifted a hand off your stomach, clasping his white shirt with your bloody hands.

"Levi.." You eventually mustered as he found a safe spot, leaning you against the wall comfortably as he crouched down in front of you.

"Brat, what were you thinking." He almost yelled, but it never faltered your smile as you stared at him, taking in his features one last time for your keeping. He had tears cascading down his cheeks, dirt covering his face and his hair was disheveled.

You slowly raised your hand and planted it onto his wet cheek.

"Levi.. live.. for me" You gave him a smile, before wrenching over and coughing up blood, you furrowed your brows in pain and leaned back once more.

"No.. shut up, shut the fuck up brat" He cried out as he his went to his belt, you watched with sad eyes until you realized what he'd grabbed. The case.

You shook your head, it was the liquid to make you into a titan. "No-.. Levi." You said as clearly as you could, pushing the case back to his chest as he stared at you with a look of pain.

He even knew it was a waste of a liquid, but still, he would still do it if she had agreed. Levi placed the case onto the ground and brought his hand up to caress your face.

"I'm sorry...." He spoke with a cracked voice, his usual personality faltering as he stared into your eyes. He knew he would never get you back and it hurt him, bad.

"Save.. humanity.." you felt your grip on his cheek falling but Levi raised his hand and kept it there, he didn't want you to leave yet, not ever.

"I will." He nodded sadly as he watched the life leave your glistening eyes.

"I love you Y/N" He got out before tears fell freely and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he sobbed into your shoulder, gripping you tightly, just to feel the last of your living and breathing touch.

"I love you.... Levi." You said slowly, your last breath being his sweet name, it's all you could've hoped for as you finally left this hell.

Everything was still, Levi knew you were gone now, he knew he was holding the corpse of the woman he loved and entrusted with his life. But yet he couldn't let go as he continued to cry, his eyes were red with tears.

"I love you so much.." Was all he could whisper to himself before pulling away from the corpse, it's head falling limp once it left his shoulder.

He picked your body up gently, the tears were gone now. Leaving the small alley his heart clenched, surveying the broken town. He shot his ODM gear up to the wall were Levi assumed he'd find Erwin.

Reaching the top he stood staring at Erwin, the commander turned to look at Levi, his eyes widening when he found the body of Y/N.

No words were spoken between the two as Erwin looked up at Levi again to study his facial expressions, his eyes shadowed and his cold and stoic expression was back.

"Let's murder that fucking titan."

#levi ackerman #levi heichou #levi aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #i’m so sad #levi x reader #levi x y/n #angst #levi angst

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2tired2study · 3 years

Text

hi! i’ve recently finished the picture of dorian gray so let’s go over my favorite quotes (in order from the ones that appear in the book first to last)

if they know nothing of victory, they are at least spared the knowledge of defeat

being natural is simply a pose, and the most irritating pose i know

and as for believing things, i can believe anything, provided that it is quite incredible

when our eyes met, i felt that i was growing pale. a curious sensation of terror came over me. i knew that i had come face to face with someone whose mere personality was so fascinating that, if i allowed it to do so, it would absorb my whole nature, my whole soul, my very art itself

he, too, felt that we were destined to know each other

laughter is not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is by far the best ending for one

a man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies

i like persons better than principles, and i like persons with no principles better than anything else in the world

every day. i couldn’t be happy if i didn’t see him every day. he is absolutely necessary to me

he is all my art to me now

it is only the intellectually lost who ever argue

and the mind of a thoroughly well-informed man is a dreadful thing

there is no such thing as a good influence, mr gray. all influence is immoral; immoral from the scientific point of view

he becomes an echo of someone else’s music

but the bravest man among us is afraid of himself

nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul

some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires,you will feel it, you will feel it terribly

man is many things, but he is not rational

examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. if a man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him

behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic

there was something fascinating in this son of love and death

really! and where do bad americans go to when they die?... they go to america

well, the way of paradoxes is the way of truth

all i want now is to look at life. you may come and look at it with me, if you care to

punctuality is the thief of time

it is only the sacred things that are worth touching

when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving ones self, and one always ends by deceiving others

there is always something infinitely mean about other peoples tragedies

how different he was now than the shy frightened boy he had met in basil hallwards studio! his nature had developed like a flower, had borne blossoms of scarlet flame. out of its secret hiding-place had crept his soul, and desire had come to meet it on the way

it is personalities, not principles, that move the age

people are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves

he lives the poetry that he cannot write. the others write the poetry that they dare not realize

human life—that appeared to him the one thing worth investigating

to note the curious hard logic of passion, and the emotional coloured life of the intellect—to observe where they had met, and where they separated, at what point they were in unison, and at what point they were at discord—there was a delight in that! what matter was the cost? one could never pay too high a price for any sensation

with his beautiful face, and his beautiful soul, he was a thing to wonder at. it was no matter how it all ended, or was destined to end. he was like one of those gracious figures in a pageant or a play, whose joys seem to be remote from one, but whose sorrows stir ones sense of beauty, and whose wounds are like red roses

the senses could refine, and the intellect could degrade

all that it really demonstrated was that our future would be the same as our past, and that the sun we had done once, and with loathing, we would do many times, and with joy

it often happened that when we thought we were experimenting on others we were really experimenting on ourselves

the joy of a caged bird was in her voice

she was free in her prison of passion

i love him because he is like what love himself should be.

he was like a common gardener walking with a rose

he had the dislike of being stared at, which comes on geniuses late in life and never leaves the commonplace

to be in love is to surpass ones self

my wonderful lover, my god of graces

i wish i had, for as sure as there is a god in heaven, if he ever does you any wrong, i shall kill him

whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives

i don’t want to see dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect

we are not sent into the world to air our moral prejudices

and unselfish people are colourless. they lack individuality

you are much better than you pretend to be

of course, it is sudden—all really delightful things are

he is not like other men. he would never bring misery upon any one. his nature is too fine for that

but i am afraid i cannot claim my theory as my own. it belongs to nature, not to me

no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is

there was a gloom over him

he felt that dorian gray would never again be to him all that he had been in the past

any one you love must be marvellous

it is not good for ones morals to see bad acting

there are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating—people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing

you taught me what reality really is

you had made me understand what love really is

you are more to me than all art can ever be

there is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love

a faint echo of his love came back to him

we live in an age when unnecessary things are our only necessities

when we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us

i cant bear the idea of my soul being hideous

one can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing

nothing makes one so vain as being told that one is a sinner

it is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion

you were the most unspoiled creature in the whole world

of you wish me never to look at your picture again, i am content. i have always you to look at

from the moment i met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. i was dominated, soul, brain, and power, by you

i grew jealous of every one to whom you spoke. i wanted to have you all to myself. i was only happy when i was with you

i only knew that i had seen perfection face to face

i grew more and more absorbed in you

you are made to be worshipped

in every pleasure, cruelty has its place

but it was to teach man to concentrate himself upon the moments of life that is itself but a moment

out of the unreal shadows of the night comes back the real life that we had known. we have to resume it where we left off, and there steals over us a terrible sense of the necessity for the continuance of energy in the same wearisome round of stereotyped habits, or a wild longing, it nat be, that our eyelids might open some morning upon a world that had been refashioned anew in the darkness for our pleasure, a world in which things would have fresh shapes and colours, and be changed, or have other secrets, a world in which the past would have little or no place, or survive, at any rate, in no conscious form of obligation or regret, the remembrance of even joy having its bitterness and the memories of pleasure their pain

yet, as had been said of him before, no theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life itself

he saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart

art, like nature, has her monsters

is insincerity such a terrible thing? i think not. it is merely a method by which we can multiply our personalities

and mind you don’t talk about anything serious. nothing is serious nowadays. at least nothing should be

i am tired of myself tonight. i should like to be someone else

sin is a thing that writes itself across a mans face

you forget that we are in the native land of the hypocrite

that is the reason why i want you to be fine. you have not been fine

you have a wonderful influence. let it be for good, not for evil

i wonder do i know you? before i could answer that, i should have to see your soul

my god! don’t tell me that you are bad, and corrupt, and shameful

so you think it is only god who sees the soul, basil? draw that curtain back, and you will see mine

each of us has heaven and hell in him, basil

you are the one man who is able to save me

don’t speak about those days, dorian—they are dead... the dead linger sometimes

lord henry, i am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked

life is a great disappointment

i like men who have a future and women who have a past

moderation is a fatal thing. enough is as bad as a meal. more than enough is as good as a feast

you always want to know what one has been doing. i always want to forget what i have been doing

his soul, certainly, was sick to death

he was prisoned in thought. memory, like a horrible malady, was eating his soul away

ones days were too brief to take the burden of another’s errors on ones shoulders

it is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things

to define is to limit

to be popular one must be a mediocrity

romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art

i am searching for peace

the appeal to antiquity is fatal to us who are romanticists

sick with a wild terror of dying, and yet indifferent to life itself

horror seemed once more to lay its hand upon his heart

how terrible it was to think that conscience could raise such fearful phantoms

he had a wild adoration for you and that you were the dominant motive of his art

when you and he ceased to be great friends, he ceased to be a great artist

if a man treats life artistically, his brain is his heart

art has a soul, but that man had not

the soul is a terrible reality

to get back my youth i would do anything in the world, except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable

but a chance tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play—i tell you, dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend

life has been your art

the books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world it’s own shame

the world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history

it was the living death of his own soul that troubled him

as it had killed the painter, so it would kill the painters work, and all that that meant. it would kill the past, and when that was dead, he would be free

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aprilsrant · 3 years

Text

Happiness.

Harry Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: mentions of the war, mentions of death/dying (promise nothing too serious), kind of angsty but fluff in the end. Enemies to lovers (kind of). Loosely based on the song Compass by The Neighbourhood.

A/N: This is a gift for my amazing girl Val, @minty-malfoy, I hope you can enjoy this fic, it was really fun to write. Happy Holidays to everyone reading this and to all of my followers, I love and appreciate all of you so much!

English is not my first language. Pictures are not mine. Open for more quality.

“I'm lucky you've been keeping me around

You're the star I look for every night

When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side.”

Compass, The Neighbourhood.

Harry had never been one to believe in luck or chances, but there was no denying that ever since he was born, his entire destiny had been written in stone by someone who wanted nothing more than to destroy him; there was no denying that it felt like years of bad luck and a curse strong enough to affect everyone around him had been placed on his shoulders even before he could walk.

After years of fighting Voldemort and his followers, Harry had the tendency of thinking that the norms of normality didn’t apply to him. Every new term at Hogwarts meant a new danger, threatening his life, his friends and the rest of the Wizarding Community that wasn’t part of the elite group of blood supremacists.

Therefore, finding someone never did the top of his list when the number one was surviving through it all. Finding someone meant, at least to him, a glimpse of ordinariness and a sense of home, things that he never remembered of experiencing outside of Hogwarts and the Burrow. That being said, not under any circumstances Harry had believed encountering her would have been possible.

(Y/N) was someone he had ignored and bound in a cage of old prejudice because of an ancient — and unhealthy — rivalry, one started centuries before they set foot on the castle. Their relationship wasn’t one for the romance movies the Muggles loved, those where the protagonists fall in love the moment they see each other. Instead, Harry and (Y/N) loathed the other ever since the first Potion class in their sixth year.

For a Slytherin, dreams and ambitions are what you hold closely to your heart and anyone trying to defy them, or achieve them first, is waving a battle flag right in front of you, too loud to dismiss — or perhaps, the receiver of the message is too proud to ignore —. For (Y/N), seeing Harry Potter get all of Slughorn’s attention and praise when she had been the best on the subject for the last five years, was a slap in the face interpreted as a sign to unleash the rabid dogs of war.

If anyone had told Harry that he would grow to love her, to adore every piece of her, he would have laughed while claiming the person was mental. But, what was once a feud quickly transformed into a weird, unpredictable friendship. After that, it was only a matter of time for feelings to blossom.

Neither of them wanted to admit it, but deep inside of their chests and hearts, both knew that the sweaty hands, the longing stares, the intimacy of their jokes and the tenderness of their touch wasn’t the part of the play that friends acted.

It was then that the idea of bad luck and cursed for life appeared on his head again. How could he be so selfish to let her into his life when a real war was coming for him and for everyone who dared to choose his side? How could he pretend that the claws of death weren’t reaching for him, that his life didn’t depend on the shaky and ancient hands holding the scissors? Harry knew pulling Hermione and Ron, and his whole family, into the mess was already bad enough, but doing it to the girl who had become an unexpected beacon of light would make him even more guilty. It wasn’t fair that he had to worry about whether being with her or not would endanger her life, but Harry hadn’t been born for normality.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Harry heard her voice from behind him, strong but trying to cover the anger and hurt. It was only the two of them in the corridor since most of the other students were still in class or using their free period to study. The distance separating them gave the sensation of facing an endless ocean, one you could never cross. “Did I do or say something upsetting? Is it because of your friends? I know Ron doesn’t particularly like me but I promise I’m trying.”

“It’s not that and I’m not ignoring you,” Harry responded shortly, not stopping his walk or daring to glance back at her, afraid of giving in with only seeing the expression plastered in her face. The cold words escaping from his mouth and his attitude, rising the fire in the pit of her stomach.

“What do you mean you are not ignoring me, Harry?,” she scoffed while the pace of her footsteps increased to chase after the boy, “you can’t even look me in the eye and say it to my face.”

“I’m answering your questions, am I not? In what way is this ignoring you then?” (Y/N) had admired Harry’s tendencies to sarcasm or ironic responses ever since they became friends — and perhaps even before —, but now she wanted to slap him for acting so unfaced.

“Well, I don’t know, maybe because one day you look like you’re finally about to ask me on a date but the next one, you avoid me as if I were sick!”

Harry’s steps faltered, his chest tightened at the thought of (Y/N) reciprocating his feelings.

“Please, just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it,” she whispered, putting herself in front of the boy.

“You did nothing wrong.”

“Then why are you acting like this? Is it because I’m a Slytherin?,” (Y/N) insisted. Now, Harry could see the ache and a hungry desperation in her eyes to know the answers, only there because of him. “Just don’t leave me, I- I can’t bear it. We can go back to hating each other if it makes it easier, but don’t do this, don’t leave me like this.”

“I don’t hate you, (Y/N), but I can’t give you what you want,” Harry said watching as her hands took hold of his owns, making his heart skipped a beat, “I’m not someone that can live a normal life, not with Voldemort threatening me and everyone I’m close with.” Harry didn’t miss her efforts to not flinch at the mention of the Dark Lord.

One of her hands travelled all the way up to his right cheek, the feeling of Harry’s skin and the way the boy had leaned into the touch of her fingers, forgetting for just a second all the worries plaguing his mind, had (Y/N)’s stomach almost bursting.

“I don’t want nor need a normal life, Harry. I want you, I couldn’t care less about the rest,” she confessed.

“But I care! I care about what’s going to happen to you!,” He yelled (?), “you can get hurt, you can die, (Y/N)!”

“And so can you! Let me remind you, you’ve been there a couple of times now, Harry.” She was glad of choosing the empty corridor to confront him, not having to endure the hushed whispers and the stares, pointing at her as if she wouldn’t notice. “If there’s a war coming then I prefer to spend this few minutes of peace with you.”

“But if you-”

“And if I die, then I got to be with you in the end,” (Y/N) interrupted him, “I’m not afraid of dying, Harry, but I would love to live a little before doing so.”

He closed his eyes, releasing a shaky breath before embracing her figure and resting his head against her shoulders, smelling the signature and familiar fragrance of her perfume. A small smile appeared on (Y/N)’s face while she let herself enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, guarded from the evils outside the castle and loved by the boy she once used to loathe.

“We all deserve some happiness, and maybe even a tad of normalcy, Harry,” she whispered in his ear before looking at his green eyes and closing the distance between their lips.

Taglist: @vivianweasley @feetoffthetablee @gcdric @shadowsinger11 @thisismynerdyself @cappsikle @idont-knowrn @theweasleysredhair @aesthetically-hailey @slytherinsunrise @bannerbubble @lilac-wrists @storyisnotover

#Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x slytherin!reader #harry potter x slytherin #slytherin!reader #reader insert #starlightweasley's secret santa #fanfiction #fanfic #harry fanfic

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readingreylo · 3 years

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Valentine's Day Reylo Fic Recs

It has been a dark and cold winter and reading about these two idiots has been keeping me sane. Here are some romantic and Valentine themed fics to warm the cockles of your heart. No surprises here - these are all Modern AU ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Image by @m1ssjess

Romantic Fic's

Not necessarily Valentine's Day themed, but some *chef kiss* fics with super satisfying romance. Some are smutty, some are not.

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent | Explicit | 130k | complete | Modern AU | Teachers | Co-workers | Enemies-to-lovers | Hate-to-love | slow burn | fuck buddies | idiots in love | smut | Ben POV | Ben is an asshole. A former lawyer, turned high school councilor who works at the prestigious private school that he, himself, was expelled from. Rey is an adorable art teacher who is everything he despises and who does not take his shit. They clash to say the least. He hates her. Then he wants to fuck her. Then he falls in love with her. If he plays his cards right he might get everything he never knew he wanted. | Jessie's note: this might be the greatest enemies-to-lovers I have ever read! The prose is top notch, the characterization is fascinating, the slow transition from hate-to-attraction-to-love is so brilliantly done.

Happy Reading!

#reylo #reylo fic rec #reylo fandom #reylo fanfic #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #ben x rey #i was going to add my favourite smutty fics too but this got huge and i am so tired #while making this list i re-read over half of these fics and boy do i still love them #i also kinda feel guilty for not adding my two cents to each one but i am so tired #did i mention i am tired?#i realize its still a week and a bit till Valentine's day #but we are already decorated at work and i freaking like the aesthetic #and i am a hopeless romantic

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aclosetfan · 3 years

Note

And Np

(ask game)

haha dude you’re like my new best friend now lmao thanks so much for being interested enough to ask about my dumb ideas!

Eight is titled “Artistic Aspirations” which isn’t a creative title at all. It’s another multi-chapter, no powers au, blues fic!! Personally, I think it's too safe and boring to write. The story spans a few years; I’ve shortened the outline to make it readable, but it still ended up being too long, sorry.

Background on the girls at the start of the story:

Bubbles is 21 and a broke, struggling artist finishing/right out of undergrad. Lives in Cityville. she’s on the verge of having to crawl home to her family with her tail between her legs

BC is 23 and finishing her physical therapy program in Townsville. Still lives with the Professor, but she practically lives full time at her boyfriend's place. She’s semi-neurotic about her relationship, not because it’s unstable, but b/c she thinks it’s too good to be true. Butch, for what it’s worth, doesn’t blink an eye—just a chill dude in this one. VERY into BC.

Blossom is 25 and starting her law career. Lives on the East Coast, working for a successful firm. Would like to move back home at one point, but she hasn’t really had the “right” reason to.

Plot (under the cut!)

It opens with Bubbles at a diner waiting for her sisters at their regular booth. Life isn’t all rainbows and sunshine like she had hoped. At the diner, Buttercup announces that she and her long-term boyfriend are finally engaged! Bubbles has met Butch plenty of time as well as Brick, Butch’s older brother, but she has yet to meet his youngest brother. In fact, Bubbles doesn’t even know his name. Butch just affectionately refers to him as “my dumbass little brother,” which Brick (a defense lawyer here in Townsville) wholeheartedly agrees with. Butch has also said “he’s into all that artsy stuff like you. Draws and shit.”

Until they finally meet at the wedding

He wasn’t there for the wedding rehearsal because his flight was delayed—he was somewhere “fancy” according to Butch b/c of some “art thing, idk, he’ll be here.” “He better be!” Cries HIM, who is one of Butch’s dads, but Bubbles doesn’t really know how exactly b/c everyone is adamant that HIM and Mojo (their other eccentric father) have never once been in a relationship

So when Bubs finally meets the brother she’s walking down the aisle with, she—a person who has an undergrad degree in art (haven’t decided what kind yet lol)—is like WAIT BOOMER JOJO THE BOOMER JOJO?!?! He’s like, “lol sup” and she loses her mind because Butch’s dumbass little brother doesn’t just “draw and shit,” he’s actually an art world prodigy, who despite being very young and very alive, is considered very renowned in major art circles.

(Not Banksy per se, but he’s like one of those Bad Boy artists that would make other artists roll their eyes) (also a man of many projects but doesn’t have the follow-through for a lot of them—which if he wasn’t so good at the stuff he actually finishes, would bite him in the ass; he’s flaky, gets bored easily).

Bubbles is amazed she hasn’t made the connection between the brothers and Boomer just laughs.

There’s, quite predictably, an instant connection between the blues. Butch, who cares for his sister-in-law, is like “Bubs don’t date my brother. He’s not mature enough to be dating anyone.” And Bubbles doesn’t listen!! Because she’s desperate for love and this could also mean she’s finally getting her big break!! Their relationship is really intense and Boomer does end up getting her a nice cushy job at some indie gaming company that he’s dipping his toes in. But just a quick as the flame is lit, it goes out. Boomer gets bored, Bubbles’ art isn’t being taken seriously, and she ends up getting fired for creative differences. Fired and despondent, she gets her break-up text from Boomer the next day. The day after that, he’s dating a model.

Absolutely crushed, Bubbles packs up her bags, leaves his apartment, and moves back in with the Professor. Butch and Buttercup (and Brick—but he’s at work) are ready to kick ass. Bubbles though would rather forget about it and holes up in her childhood bedroom. Eventually, BC gets her out of the room, brings her to Butch and her’s home, and is like “listen I know you’re heartbroken, but ima need you to do something for me—“ and Bubbles is like omg srsly?? Right now?? And BC is like “I need a mural on that wall, something cutesy, ya kno a stork or something?” And Bubbles is about to snap but then, she's like WAIT A STORK!!! And a new baby on the way really brings Bubbles out of her stupor—it gets her painting again. (Bubbles is full of love and you can’t tell me she doesn’t love babies)

So the mural is a hit at the baby shower and Robin (longtime best friend, also pregnant), is like Bubbles please paint me one, and her partner Princess is like MONEY IS NO OBJECT IF ROBIN WANTS IT SHE GETS IT. And then, subsequently, Robin’s (and Princess’s) mural takes off in the rich, white lady community, and soon enough Bubbles is being commissioned for more than just Baby Murals. Princess goes around bragging that she was the one who “discovered her,” and becomes Bubbles' “business agent.”

Basically, Bubbles is on the rise. As opposed to Boomer, who is on the fall. He’s hit an art block. It’s really bad. His melancholy is really bad. Very much plays the “woe is me" card. Hasn’t been back to Townsville in a while, so when his nephew (who he’s met briefly over facetime lol) turns one, he decides to fly in for his birthday.

Plans to mope and bum off his brothers for a bit, but is shocked to see Bubbles, who he then realizes he shouldn’t be so shocked to see. Has a ream “this was a mistake, she’ll make scene” moment, but Bubbles greets him as if nothing between them had ever happened (LIKE A QUEEN). Boomer takes this personally. Then Boomer meets Princess, who gloats about Bubbles, and then, looks at the award-winning boy and goes, “so anyway, who are you again?”

This pisses Boomer off even more and then, over the course of the week he stays with the greens, this anger builds up. He eventually takes it out on Bubbles, like, “you wouldn’t be who you are without me.”

[cue that one blinking gif] Bubbles goes off. Boomer storms off. Romance is in the air.

[well I guess the reds are hitting it off, but that’s c-plot and who cares]

Princess isn’t privy to this growing resentment and only sees an Opportunity™. She reaches out to Boomer’s agent. Then, she reaches out to a museum, and is like “I’ve got the most BITCHING exhibit for you.” Then, she tells Bubbles about the gig she booked for her.

Bubbles and Boomer are like no way am I doing a collab with them. Boomer’s agent is like “chief ima be real with you, it’s this or nothing.” Princess looks at Bubbles and tells her to suck it up. So, they end up working together, which means Boomer is back in Townsville.

Cue lovers to enemies to friends back to lovers speedrun. Hello yes.

Because they’re forced to collaborate, because Bubbles is more confident, and because Boomer has been knocked down a peg or two, they actually (finally) get to know each other on a personal level. And being closer to family helps Boomer, in some ways, mature. It’s a whole connecting back to your roots “ive grown and im better now” character development for Boomer.

Ends ambiguous ;) but it's happy.

#ppg blues #ppg fic outline #my writing #outline ask game #this one is boring #but it is cute to think about #i guess the theme is growing up in your twenties #which is really hard ngl #read more under the cut #if you think it's not boring :) thank you

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inkedstarlight · 4 years

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I Put A Spell On You

Summary: Nesta and Cassian hated each other. Ever since freshman year of college, he'd been nothing but a pain in her ass. Their conversations always ended in screaming matches, and they couldn't agree on a single thing. So why was Nesta so angry to see him with another girl at a Halloween party one night? Cassian quickly picks up on her jealousy and teases her about it, only further infuriating Nesta. Sexual tension, unresolved feelings, and an intense game of truth or dare ensue. Warnings: explicit language, NSFW Read it here on AO3

Lana Del Ray’s “Season of the Witch” was playing quietly in the background as Nesta put on the finishing touches of her makeup. Tossing the mascara on the counter, she took a step back to assess herself in the mirror.

Her lips were a deep red, so dark it was almost black. A golden crescent moon was painted on her forehead, her daring brows arched on each side. Stormy grey eyes were heavily lined with midnight kohl, streaks of black running down her cheeks as if she’d just dragged her acrylic nails down her face. It looked like dripping blood. A golden arm cuff in the figure of a snake curved its way around her bicep, and it was quite possibly Nesta’s favorite part of the entire costume.

And her dress? Her dress was the most elegant thing she’d ever worn. Nesta didn’t even know how to describe it, the layered fabric falling down to the floor, the sleeves black and sheer. All she knew was she felt fucking powerful.

She smirked devilishly at the reflection staring back at her. It was like looking at Hecate herself.

To put it blatantly, Nesta was a whore for Halloween. She loved everything about spooky season: witches, full moons, candy, costumes, horror movies. The frightening, dark atmosphere that ensconced her throughout the entire month of October. Not to mention it was the one of the few holidays that didn’t revolve around family-oriented activities. Needless to say, Nesta was in her element.

Emerie peered her head into the bathroom where Nesta was getting ready. Her smile was wicked as she took in Nesta. “You just took fashionably late to the next level.”

Nesta laughed at her friend’s reaction. “You’re one to talk.”

Emerie was wearing a silky, burgundy robe. It was untied, leaving her tiny black slip in full view. The delicate fabric fell just inches below her waist, and she stood impossibly straight in glittery stilettos. To top it all off, bunny ears protruded from her waves of dark hair. She was a Playboy Bunny, and she looked fucking fantastic.

“How late are we?”

Emerie checked her phone. “About an hour.”

Nesta shrugged and shot her a wink. “It’s always fun to make a bit of an entrance.”

Nesta and Emerie had been close friends since freshman year. Nesta’s roommate was seldom in their room, and Emerie’s roommate was always bringing hookups to her respective room. So, when the two became aware of each other’s unfortunate (albeit convenient) situations, Emerie began staying over at Nesta’s. She would sleep over several nights a week, and it eventually became her room too. It worked perfectly.

Now, as upperclassmen, the duo lived in on-campus apartments. Just them and Minx. AKA the tiny but fierce black cat they rescued just a year prior.

“Guess who I heard is coming?”

Nesta dropped what she was doing to look at her friend. She knew that tone. That tone was always followed by a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach.

She threw Emerie a look. “I swear to the gods if you say Cass –”

“It’s Cassian!” Emerie sang smugly, jazz hands and all.

Nesta groaned. Cassian Bechalot was the bane of her existence. He was a senior, Nesta a junior, and he’d been a pain in her ass from day one. The first day of classes in her freshman year, Nesta had been sitting in her biology lab waiting for the class to begin. Ten minutes after class started, Cassian rushed through the doors in a dramatic entrance. To Nesta’s dismay, he sat next to her. The professor then proceeded to review the syllabus, mentioning the fact that they will be assigned semester-long lab partners. By “assigned,” she meant the person sitting next to you. Nesta had barely held back her groan when Casssian smirked at her and said, “I have a feeling this is going to be my favorite class.” For the next four months, he made Nesta hate biology. Purely because she now associated it with him. Cassian made it his personal mission to annoy the living hell out of her.

Skip to sophomore year. Cassian was adamant on sitting next to her in a lecture they were both enrolled in. Nesta was minding her damn business when he’d looked over her shoulder to catch her reading fanfiction on her laptop. And of course, it wasn’t some innocent story. No, with Nesta’s luck, it had been a smutty-ass fic that was basically porn without a plot. Cassian was unable to contain his laughter, the immature child he was. The professor stopped midsentence to narrow her eyes at his disruption. Nesta remembered it clear as day.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Mr. Bechalot? Since it’s clearly a matter important enough to interrupt my class.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” Cassian had grinned. He nodded his head at Nesta, the latter of whom was red in the face from both embarrassment and anger. “But I don’t think the Mrs. would be very happy with me.”

The class had whopped, some applauding Cassian’s antics.

“Enlighten me.”

He’d shrugged given Nesta a look that said, There’s nothing I can do to stop what’s about to happen.

What a fucking liar.

“Nesta was just getting in her daily dose of fanfiction. It happened to be a particularly…” Cassian paused. The bastard paused for dramatic effect. “… risqué.”

And queue the laughter.

So that was one of many reasons Nesta couldn’t stand him. After that fiasco, countless others followed. Some fiascos were of Nesta’s doing.

What? Nesta couldn’t let him win every time. She had a couple tricks up her sleeve, too. And it’s not like she was going to let him off the hook without facing the consequences.

Emerie was convinced it was some sort of star-crossed lovers shit. She dubbed them an “enemies-to-lovers” slow burn. She was the biggest (and only) advocate for a romantic relationship to blossom between them.

But Nesta? Nesta saw it for what it was.

Pure, unadulterated hatred.

And now he was crashing the party Nesta had been looking forward to all week.

The party was at their friend’s off-campus apartment. There were going to be a lot of people there, but Nesta had seriously doubted he would be invited. At Pryth U, there was an obnoxious division between athletes and the rest of the undergraduates. Nesta loathed the cliquey dynamic. But while the athletes certainly had a reputation, she had many friends who were on the college teams. It was really only the men’s lacrosse team that lived up to their reputation, and Cassian just so happened to be the captain. Who’s surprised?

Cassian had a way of getting in her head, of fueling her already hotheaded temper. Their interactions typically ended in a screaming match. He would tell her to loosen up, and Nesta would tell him to fuck off. He’d make some raunchy joke of it, and she would go off on him. They’d have a staring contest for a couple minutes before continuing to yell obscenities at each other.

Yeah… it wasn’t pretty.

But Nesta was determined to not let it bother her. Tonight was going to be great, Cassian or not.

“Is you-know-who going to be there?” Nesta turned the conversation around, stealing a glance at her roommate.

She scowled. “I don’t know. Even if she was, she doesn’t know my fucking name.”

“You don’t know that,” Nesta countered.

Emerie gave her a pointed look.

Nesta sighed. “Okay, so she doesn’t know your name. Doesn’t mean you can’t introduce yourself tonight.”

Emerie mumbled an incoherent response.

She’d had a crush on a girl named Mor for several months now. Mor had recently transferred from a different university, and she was a fellow junior. Emerie first saw her when she was working one day at the on-campus Starbucks. Whenever Mor came in for a drink, Emerie was sure to be the one to get her order. And she always made Mor’s drink (a medium mocha latte). It was quite adorable when Emerie came home from work to gush about how Mor’s hair was particularly beautiful that day. Adorable and obnoxiously frustrating.

Nesta wasn’t big on love. Sure, her guilty pleasure included romance novels and smutty fanfiction, but that was fiction. In her own life, she hated romantic gestures, declarations of love, and physical affection. She’d never been the type to have crushes or pursue a potential suitor. After watching her parent’s marriage crumble right before her eyes, Nesta didn’t put much thought into romantic relationships. To her, it was work. It took too much effort and from what she’d seen, the outcome was never worth it.

Sometimes, Nesta wasn’t sure if she knew how to love. Sure, she loved her sisters, but that was the extent of it (with the exception of Amren and Emerie). The thought terrified her just as much as it empowered her.

There were rare moments when Nesta would see Amren and Varian laughing together and something in her would ache. For what, she wasn’t sure. Affection, love, trust, acceptance, peace, comfort. All of the above.

“Okay, are we ready to go?” Emerie called to back to Nesta, shaking her from her thoughts. She took one last glance in the mirror before turning the light off.

“Let’s do it.”

The apartment was decorated perfectly. The lights were dim, the atmosphere enticing. Nesta was impressed but not at all surprised at Amren’s immaculate skills as an interior design major. They were friends from high school, and they’d remained thick as thieves since.

The place wasn’t huge, but it had enough space for dancing and drinking and that’s all that mattered. There were probably twenty people in there. The music was dark and thrilling, the bass reverberating in Nesta’s chest as she maneuvered her way through the bodies in the basement.

She recognized most of the people here, only a few unfamiliar faces in the crowd. Amren’s boyfriend, Varian, was in a mermaid costume as he walked around offering people drinks. He caught Nesta’s eye and shot her a grin, his hands gesturing to the coconut shell bra on his chest. She shook her head and chuckled before swiping… candy corn Jell-O shots?

With a grimace, Nesta tilted her head back and swallowed the damn thing.

It was disgusting.

“Nesta!” a familiar voice yelled from behind her. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

Rhysand approached her, his strut a little less smooth than normal thanks to the many drinks he must’ve had. But when she saw him, she could barely stop herself from laughing out loud.

He was dressed as an angel. Rhysand fucking Elvert was an angel.

I’m not drunk enough for this.

He wore a white toga, his tanned chest bare for all the women and men to drool over. Cheap translucent wings protruded from his back, and a golden halo in the form of a headband hung over his head. He was giving her a cheeky smile as he stopped in front of her.

“Nesta, my best friend!” Well, that confirmed his inebriated state. “How are you? More importantly, where’s that sister of yours?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She should have known he was going to ask about Feyre.

Her younger sister had visited Nesta several times since she started Pryth U a couple years back. They had the unfortunate luck of encountering Rhysand while Nesta was showing Feyre around campus. And of course, as Rhysand does with every living, breathing woman, he tried to woo her with his fuckboy ways. Feyre held her own, but that changed when Nesta brought her to a small dorm party later that night. When Nesta was returning from the bathroom, she found them dancing. Well, dancing was putting it nicely. There was a lot of hip movement to say the least.

After ripping them apart, Nesta threatened Rhys that if he got near her sister again, he was a dead man. Feyre, thoroughly embarrassed, had no other choice but to follow Nesta back to her dormitory. Once in her room, Nesta chastised Feyre for “fraternizing with the enemy.” Nesta had told Feyre stories about Cassian before, so she was up to date on that situation. Feyre didn’t seem to care, claiming that she didn’t even think Rhysand was that attractive.

And though Nesta knew that was a flat-out lie, she let it go.

So, when Feyre visited a semester later, Nesta was careful not to mention her visit to anyone, especially not Rhys. They weren’t friends per se, but her rivalry with Cassian made Rhysand a fixture in her life (one that she never asked for). They would chat during class or in passing, and their relationship was lighthearted. Nothing like the tension between her and Cassian. After the first time Feyre had visited, Rhysand always managed to find a way to bring her up in conversation.

But to Nesta’s dismay, Rhysand had miraculously found out about her visit. Ignoring Nesta’s threat, Rhys shamelessly tried to pursue Feyre for the second time. Even though Nesta was careful not to mention her visit, Rhysand had miraculously found out and pursued her. That time, he blatantly flirted with her right in front of Nesta. But it was more than flirting. Nesta could tell that Rhysand was acting differently than when he flirted with other girls. Nesta had been around him long enough to watch him flirt and seduce many women, and it was different with Feyre. This behavior continued every time Feyre visited, which was just five instances. Yet Rhysand seemed strangely attached to Feyre. Nesta never asked him about it… Gods forbid Rhysand Elvert becomes her brother-in-law.

“She’s great,” Nesta said truthfully. “Just started dating a new guy.”

His face fell for a fraction of a second, so quickly that Nesta could have imagined it. “Does he treat her well?”

“I’ve never met him, but from what she’s told me, yes.”

He seemed to consider this before merely nodding in response.

“Where’s that annoying friend of yours?” Nesta changed the subject.

Why do you care? Nesta could practically hear Emerie’s voice in her head. She ignored it.

“Cassian? That bastard’s somewhere in here.” Rhysand chuckled before he suddenly got excited. “Oh! You’ll never guess what he dressed as.”

Nesta gave him an unamused look. “Let me take a wild guess: the devil.”

Rhysand’s shoulders dropped and he pouted. “You take the fun out of everything.”

“Or perhaps you’re more predictable than you think.”

“Bet you can’t guess what Azriel is.”

Nesta didn’t even have to think twice. “Azriel dressed as Sherlock Holmes because he has a shred of self-respect. As opposed to you two buffoons.”

And because he told me a week ago, Nesta thought to herself.

Rhysand opened his mouth to retort, but he was quickly interrupted.

“Did someone say Cassian Bechalot?”

Nesta’s fists balled tightly at the mere sound of his voice. She plastered on a sickly-sweet smile and turned to face Cassian.

She did her best not waver at the sight of him. Even Nesta couldn't deny that Cassian was an objectively attractive man. She would never admit it, though.

His long hair was disheveled as always, a couple loose strands framing his annoyingly sharp jaw. He wore a deep red dress shirt, and the fabric looked soft as satin. Several buttons were popped to show off a broad chest and his signature golden chain. The sleeves were rolled up to reveal his inked forearms, the collar popped to show off the thick columns of his neck. And of course, red horns stuck out from the obnoxiously inflated head of his.

But what Nesta wasn’t expecting was the woman on his arm. She looked to be about their age, maybe a year younger. She too wore a devil costume but this time it was a small red dress and a face full of beautiful makeup.

Nesta’s fists tightened even more.

Cassian stopped a couple feet in front of her, his eyes slowly dragging up and down her body. Nesta crossed her arms impatiently until his piercing gaze finally met hers.

“So glad I ran into you, sweetheart," he purred at her. Gods, him and that insufferable nickname. She could choke him. "What do you think of my costume?"

“It suits you,” Nesta replied sarcastically. Then she added, “You guys make quite the couple.”

Cassian frowned, but Nesta paid no mind to him.

“Oh, we didn’t even come here together!” piped in the woman. She gave Cassian a seductive look. “But I certainly hope we’ll be going home together.”

Nesta didn’t bother to hide her distaste. It wasn’t directed toward the friendly woman, rather at the bastard at her side. The obnoxiously sexy bastard.

“Let me guess…” Cassian tapped a finger on his chin thoughtfully. Nesta made a show of rolling her eyes. “Hecate?”

What?

She hadn't expected that.

Nesta did her best to contain her surprise. “You know who Hecate is?”

“Ouch, you didn’t have to say it like that. You wound me, sweetheart.”

She raised a threatening brow. He chuckled deeply and raised his hands in surrender.

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Nesta snorted. “That’s highly unlikely."

He tilted his head to the side, peering closer at her. “You’re particularly feisty today, aren’t you?”

“I swear to the gods, Cassian, I will rip your head off.”

All he did was laugh her off. If he only knew how serious she was...

Nesta was just about to walk away when Cassian turned to the woman at his side. “Arlia, can you leave us alone for a second?” he grinned mischievously. “I’ll find you after.”

Arlia giggled and nodded, dragging a finger down his arm as she walked away. Leaving Cassian and Nesta alone.

Great.

Cassian didn't waste a second, closing the distance between them. He loomed several inches above her, something Nesta detested about him. He was large, tall, purely male. Nesta got a whiff of his scent, and she hated how much she loved the smell of him. He always wore the same cologne, not enough to overwhelm but enough to leave Nesta wanting more.

Ugh. He truly was the devil incarnate.

“Is that jealousy I sense?” Cassian clicked his tongue, humor flashing in his hazel eyes.

Nesta choked at his words. "As if."

It was a weak comeback, and she knew it.

He got even closer, their bodies just inches apart now. “Why do you even care who I spend my time with, Nesta? You hate me on a good day.”

“Maybe,” Nesta countered, “that’s because you do nothing but make my life as miserable as possible.”

The temperature in the room seemed to increase several degrees as Nesta stared up at him in contempt. Something unreadable crossed his face as he raised a hand and caressed her cheek, the warmth of his fingers sending tingles to her feet.

“Why do you insist on pushing me away?" Cassian asked, searching her eyes. She was frozen, her throat constricted.

Because you terrify me.

Nesta shoved that thought deep down before she could even comprehend it, as far as it could possibly go.

"Tell me," Cassian breathed, pushing for an answer. "Is it so hard to admit that maybe I'm not as bad as you want me to be?"

Yes.

Nesta was nearly trembling, her mouth unable to form a single word. She could only stare up at him with wide eyes and parted lips as he pushed her limits.

"Is it so hard to admit that maybe, just maybe, you actually like me?"

Enough.

Nesta snapped.

“Like you? Fuck that, Cassian! You walk around campus like you’re the most desirable man on earth,” Nesta fumed, just the sight of him enough to boil her blood. “You treat women like shit, you humiliate me at least once a month, and you’re only at Pryth U thanks to some athletic scholarship.”

Her voice had gotten louder and people were definitely watching them, but she didn’t give a shit.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at her words, and he got another step closer, forcing Nesta’s back against the cool edge of the table behind her. He rested both hands on each side of her body and caged her in. She didn’t dare back down, levelling his hard glare.

“Do you think I’m desirable, Nesta?” he asked menacingly, his voice low. Quiet enough for only her to hear and demanding enough to get an answer.

Nesta suddenly became hyperaware of Cassian’s body so close to hers. She could see his chest moving up and down, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His bicep brushed against her arm sending a shot of electricity through her body.

Nesta didn’t know what to say. She could only stand there and watch as Cassian huffed out a humorless laugh after a couple moments passed.

“Do you know how hypocritical you are?” Cassian asked, pulling his body away from hers and leaving Nesta with a cold feeling. He raised his voice with frustration. “No one knows who Nesta Archeron is. No, they only know you by the ‘Ice Queen.’ You sit on your damn throne and look at everyone like they’re below you. What’s so great about you, Nesta, huh? Because I’ve known you for years and still haven’t been able to find a single redeeming quality.”

He practically yelled the last sentence. She wanted to cry, throw something at him, walk away, scream until she lost her voice. But she didn't do anything. Nesta just stared at him as everything in her shut down until she just... stopped. Numbness overtook her.

Cassian was watching her, his chest heaving. Something like regret flashed over his face.

Nesta blinked, shattering the little world her and Cassian were in, looking past him and into the adjoining room.

Everyone was staring at them with wide eyes and open mouths. The entire apartment was silent, and it was painfully clear that every single person had just heard them fight.

Just my fucking luck.

Nesta didn’t pay attention to anyone as she stormed off. As far away from him as possible.

She heard Varian tell everyone to mind their own business before blasting the music. The onlookers were happy to oblige and just like that, they were dancing without a care in the world.

Amren was leaning against the glass door that led to the outdoor patio when Nesta rushed outside for air. She heard her friend follow her from behind.

It was calmer out here, the loud bass of the music fading into the background. The moon was full, and that gave Nesta a small piece of solace.

She collapsed onto a plastic chair, her body sinking down. She didn't have to say a word as Amren held out a bottle of Tito's.

Nesta took it from her and didn’t even think as she took several gulps of the vodka. Her throat burned with every swallow, eyes watering. She took a final swig and gave it back to Amren, wiping her mouth and grimacing.

“So…” Amren started, glancing over at Nesta who was looking down at the ground. “Should we talk about what just happened in there?"

"No."

Amren got quiet and the two simply sat in silence. Nesta closed her eyes, relishing the cold breeze that washed over her face. She could smell the remnants of a bonfire from Amren's neighbors next door. After a few minutes, Amren straightened and held her hand out to Nesta.

“C’mon. We’re gonna dance.”

It wasn't a question. And Nesta wasn't about to say no and risk getting into an argument with Amren. Gods knew how taxing that would be. Anyway, the alcohol was already beginning to course through her blood. She would be on the dance floor in the next twenty minutes either way.

As Nesta took Amren's hand and retreated back inside, a feeling of euphoria began to enter her body. She happily invited it.

Nesta didn’t know how long they danced for. Long enough for her hair to stick to the back of her neck and her throat to be parched. Long enough for "Toxic" by Britney Spears to have played enough times and gotten stuck in her head.

But not long enough for her to forget about the events that took place just minutes prior to downing that vodka.

She signaled to Amren that she was going to get some water. Her friend only nodded her head and continued rolling her hips to the beat.

As Nesta poured herself a cup of water, she scanned the room. She scanned it until she found who she was looking for.

Nesta locked eyes with Cassian from across the room. She hadn't been thinking of him much as she and Amren danced to every song that played. He was on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Him and Arlia. The song was loud, fast. And yet his hands were snug around Arlia’s waist, hers stroking his chest as they swayed slowly. Not an inch separated their bodies.

She couldn’t read the emotion in his eyes. His face was blank.

Nesta held his stare until he broke away.

To kiss Arlia.

And he didn’t just kiss her. It wasn’t an innocent peck. He pulled her into him, capturing her lips with his own. Nesta watched as Arlia gripped the collar of his shirt and molded her body into his, their hips grinding together.

Cassian opened his eyes even as he continued to kiss Arlia. He looked directly at Nesta as his mouth moved against another woman’s. Nesta fought the urge to go up to him and smack him across the gods-damn face.

She failed.

But before she could even take a step, someone grabbed her arm from behind. She looked behind her shoulder.

Amren.

“You don’t want to do that, Ness,” Amren told her with a hard tone.

“But – ”

“But nothing,” Amren interrupted Nesta, her words final. “How about we do something to take your mind off it?” She didn’t even wait for her answer before calling over her boyfriend. “Varian!”

Just like a loyal puppy, Varian appeared at her side in a second, the end of his mermaid tale dragging on the floor. “What’s up, love?”

“Nesta needs a good distraction,” she explained, gesturing not-so-subtly to where Cassian stood. “Thoughts?”

Varian’s eyes brightened and he didn’t even hesitate before miraculously yelling over the deafening music, “Truth or dare!”

Amren threw her hands up with a groan and gave him an exasperated look as if to say, Are we thirteen years old?

But it was too late. Everyone around them was already cheering and chanting Varian's name.

Nesta levelled a look at her best friend.

Amren raised her palms up. “Hey, it’ll keep you from strangling Cassian to death,” she pointed out the silver lining.

Nesta couldn’t argue with that, so she begrudgingly followed her friend to the couch. A big group of people followed them from behind.

Five minutes later, everyone was situated into a large circle. Some were sprawled on the furniture while others sat on the floor. All of them were happily drunk and way too enthusiastic to be playing truth or dare.

“Truth or dare?” Amren started, her question directed at Azriel who was sitting a couple people away from Nesta. He was dressed as Sherlock, just as he’d told her he would.

“Dare.”

Thus began an entertaining game of truth or dare. Azriel had to do a body shot off of Rhys. Rhys had to give Helion a lap dance. Helion was forced to let Lucien do his face makeup. Lucien had to take off Mor’s socks with his teeth. Mor had to make an obscene call to a random phone number. Emerie chose truth and was forced to reveal her wildest sex fantasy (a drunken Mor offered to make that dream a reality).

Halfway into the game, Nesta had shed herself of her gown, leaving her in only a small black dress she'd put on underneath in case she got warm. It was a combination of the body heat, alcohol, and tension between her and Cassian.

The entire game, Nesta did her best to avoid eye contact with Cassian. He was sitting directly across from her in the circle, Arlia at his side. Nesta was doing fine, enjoying their childish antics until it was Emerie’s turn to ask someone.

Nesta wasn’t completely surprised when her friend turned to her and asked, “Truth or dare?”

Nesta saw the mischievous look on Emerie’s face as she proposed the question. She had no fucking idea what she had planned, but there was no way Nesta was falling into her trap.

“Truth,” Nesta decided to play it safe.

But then Cassian had to open his fucking mouth.

“Boring,” he said loudly, faking a yawn.

Nesta turned her head to face him for the first time during the game. Her heart pounded at the sight of him. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa, holding his chin in his hands as he scrutinized her. His eyes were glossy, and he was clearly drunk like the rest of them.

“It’s in the name of the game.”

“Or maybe you’re just scared,” Cassian countered.

“I’m not,” Nesta gritted her teeth, staring him down.

Cassian merely raised a brow as if to say, Sure, you aren’t.

No one said anything.

“Fine,” Nesta snapped just to spite him. “Dare.”

Cassian smiled triumphantly and sat back as Emerie clapped with excitement.

"Give her a good one!" someone called out.

Emerie turned back to Nesta with a troubled look and mouthed, Forgive me.

Forgive her? What the fuck was she talking about –

“I dare you to kiss Cassian.”

Nesta stopped breathing.

The entire room was silent as everyone stared at Nesta, gauging her reaction. She felt Cassian's eyes on her.

Nesta broke the silence and burst out laughing, a snort leaving her nose. A very unattractive snort. “You think I’m going to kiss him?”

Others around the circle laughed nervously, unsure where this was going to go.

She looked across the circle to see Cassian staring at her. But where she was expecting a smug smile was a clenched jaw and burning eyes.

You’re not scared, huh? he mouthed at her silently. He was mocking her.

In your dreams, she snapped back.

Cassian crooked his finger to draw Nesta closer. "C'mere."

She snorted. Again. “If you want to do this dare, you’re the one coming to me.”

Only a couple feet separated them from opposite sides of the circle. It was petty, but she didn't care.

He looked at her incredulously. “Really, sweetheart?”

Nesta shrugged. Cassian narrowed his eyes in response.

“No.”

He was just as stubborn as her. A couple people around the circled groaned – they knew the beginning of a Nesta-Cassian stand-off when they saw one.

“Are you guys really fighting about who has to walk the five steps it takes to get to each other?” Emerie asked, astounded. Neither of them answered.

“Why don’t you meet in the middle of the circle?” Varian suggested meekly.

“No,” they both snapped at the same time, glaring at one another when they realized they said the same thing.

Another minute passed of them staring each other down.

Cassian was the first to speak again. “If you don’t come over here, you won’t finish the dare.”

Nesta gritted her teeth. He was right. She fucking hated when he was right.

Just get it over with.

“Fine,” she seethed, standing up from the floor. She turned to Amren. “Give me another shot. I’m not drunk enough for this.”

The last thing Nesta wanted was the memory of kissing Cassian tomorrow morning. She shuddered at the thought.

“Make that two,” Cassian added.

Amren returned just a second later with a full shot glass in each hand. Neither Cassian nor Nesta hesitated as they downed the drink.

Nesta willed her legs to move, her stride confident despite the overwhelming feeling that she was going to fall thanks to her wobbly knees. Cassian’s feet were flat on the floor as he sat on the edge of the sofa. Nesta didn’t allow herself to falter for a second as she straddled Cassian and sat on his lap, their faces just inches away.

The crowd whooped and whistled. Nesta ignored it.

Nesta was already intoxicated by his scent, but she did her best to ignore it. Cassian gripped her hips to keep her balanced on him, his touch burning into her skin. She was eye-level with him, their faces inches away. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and chills went down her arms.

Something in Nesta ignited when Cassian subtly rubbed his thumb over her hip under the fabric of her dress. He seemed to sense the change in her, his nostrils flaring as he moved his thumb over her skin again, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

The world fell away. It was just them. Nesta’s lips involuntarily parted when Cassian’s other hand rested on her bare thigh. His fingers inched higher and higher, and Nesta opened her legs slightly wider. Cassian exhaled a harsh breath.

The spot between her legs was molten hot, her legs numb with pleasure. She slid her hand over his shoulder, and she traced the thick columns of his neck with her manicured nails. He tilted his head for her, and Nesta wanted nothing more than to lick and bite and suck his bare neck.

What the fuck is he doing to me?

All of Nesta’s reservations fell away as she grinded her ass in his lap, unnoticeable to anyone watching, but enough to feel Cassian’s hardness slide under her core. His eyes flashed to hers. Nesta had never seen a man look at her the way he was.

Then, so fast that he didn’t even know what was happening, Nesta leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Cassian tried to deepen the kiss, but Nesta pulled away and was out of his lap before he could do anything to stop it.

She threw her hands up and threw a smirk over her shoulder at Cassian. “I did it!”

Everyone cheered, laughter filling the room as Nesta started walking back to her respective seat.

But she didn’t get far.

“Are fucking with me?” Cassian seethed from behind her. She turned around to face him.

His jaw was clenched with anger. His whole demeanor had changed, his presence threatening. Nesta watched as his fists clenched and unclenched, Cassian's telltale sign that he was not happy.

“Aw, were you expecting a date too?” Nesta cooed at him sarcastically.

Point for Nesta.

People laughed, but Cassian boomed, "That's it," silencing everyone else. Including Nesta.

He walked straight toward her with purpose. Nesta gasped as he carefully but firmly grabbed her by the nape of the neck, his other hand splaying across the small of her back to bring their bodies together. Their lips brushed together, and Nesta's long golden hair provided a small curtain of privacy from the onlookers.

Cassian's breath smelled of whiskey, and it nearly consumed her. She looked up into his eyes and let out a breath of air. A growl released from his throat.

"Fuck it," he murmured before crushing his lips to hers.

Nesta's hand instinctively reached for him, her fingers curling in the soft tufts of his dark hair. Cassian moaned into her mouth, opening his lips and deepening the kiss. Nesta could barely stand, her tongue moving against his in a seductive, wet dance. She tasted the alcohol on him, and she became further drunk on him. Cassian curled his arm around her waist to hold her up, consequently pressing their bodies harder together. Nesta's nipples pebbled through the thin fabric of her dress as her breasts ground against his broad chest. He nibbled on her bottom lip, teasing her, driving her mad with need. She let out a whimper, and she felt Cassian's lips turn up in a satisfied smile as they continued to kiss roughly.

A loud cough had them pulling away from each other.

Nesta's cheeks turned bright red when she realized they were still standing in the middle of the circle, their friends looking up at them with horror and confusion and excitement and disbelief. She looked back at Cassian whose lips were swollen from their kisses. He didn't seem to care that there were people around them, his eyes locked solely on her.

"So... uh, I think it's Nesta's turn to ask," Rhysand said dumbly, staring up at her like she had two heads.

The last thing Nesta wanted to do was sit back down and play truth or dare. No, she wanted to drag Cassian upstairs and finish what they -

"No can do," Cassian said plainly, grabbing Nesta's hand and pulling her with him as he made his way to the stairs. "We have some unfinished business."

Well, at least Cassian was on the same page as her for the first time.

Nesta didn't even look behind her as she willingly followed Cassian up the stairs and into a more private room.

He opened the first door they passed by, revealing the guest bedroom. Nesta walked inside, and he closed and locked the door behind them.

Nesta's mind was racing. What did they just do? Why did she let him kiss her like that?

"Stop."

Nesta looked up from her hands to where Cassian stood. He had a determined look on his face.

"Stop what?"

"Overthinking this."

Gods, he saw right through her.

"We shouldn't have done that," Nesta said quietly.

"Why?" Cassian pushed.

"We hate each other." Why did it sound like she was trying to convince herself of that?

"Do we?"

The question hung in the air as neither one of them said anything. Nesta sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her arms.

"Maybe not hate, but... we can't even stand each other," Nesta let out. She glanced over at him. "It's not like we have feelings for each other."

Cassian didn't say anything. She scoffed.

"You're telling me that you can honestly say you've thought of me in that sort of way?"

"Every fucking day, sweetheart."

Nesta's heart stopped. "I'm serious."

"Me too," he told her. His lips were set in a straight line, his eyes piercing into hers.

"Please, Cass," she said, using the nickname she so rarely used for him. "You fuck other women every week. You've despised me since day one. There's no way in hell."

"I don't hate you, Nesta," he said quietly. She watched as he walked over and took a seat in the rocking chair that faced her. He hesitated before continuing. "I hate how much I fucking think about you. I wake up and my first thought is, 'I wonder what Nesta's doing right now.' I go through my days hoping to run into you." He dragged his hands down his face and laughed at himself. "But you fucking infuriate me, woman. Our conversations are never pleasant. You're the most difficult person I've ever met."

Oh Gods.

"And as for the women..." he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

Nesta waited for him to continue.

Cassian raised his head from his hands and looked her straight in the eye. "I only fuck other women because I can't get you out of my damn head. Because I've never felt this passionate about anyone. Because you confuse the living hell out of me."

He had to be lying. It was Cassian. There was no way he cared for her. She'd seen him look at her all these years, and there had never once been an indicator of such feelings. And of course he was passionate about her: he hated her! Passion wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"What do you possibly think could happen between us?" she asked with an exasperated look. She didn't wait for him to answer. "The only time this," Nesta gestured between them, "could ever happen again is a year from now."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged. "This," she moved her hand around. "Halloween. The one day you can pretend to be someone you're not."

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"You and I would never work, Cassian." The words cut through her as she choked them out.

"Why do you keep lying to yourself?" Cassian asked.

"I'm not! We know nothing about each other. We treat each other like shit. It would explode in our faces."

“We don't know anything about each other?" he echoed quietly, a small laugh leaving his lips. "How do you think I knew you were Hecate?"

Nesta didn't say anything. Where was he going with this?

"Maybe,” he started, “it’s because I’ve heard you mention her more times than I can count. Maybe I looked her up one day and read all about her. Maybe I think she's a fucking badass.

"You think we don't know anything about each other? Here are some things you don't know about me: I started that web comic you never shut up about. I finished it in a week, and I wrote down all my favorite parts in case we ever talk about it one day. You have a black cat named Minx, and you even have custom made socks with his picture on it. You want to study creative writing, but you're scared you won't make it as an author." He paused. "You try to hide everything inside, but I can tell how much you feel, Nesta. You aren't heartless, you aren't insensitive. You're just... scared. To trust."

Nesta hadn't told him any of that. Not directly, at least. But he listened. He'd always been listening. Her heart was pounding in her ears as Cassian finally met her gaze with soft eyes. She was terrified, but she held eye contact with him, refusing to look away. This man... he didn't hate her. He never had.

Nesta didn't realize tears were running down her face until her vision blurred and Cassian's face was out of focus.

Fuck. She hated crying, especially in front of people. Especially in front of him.

She dropped her face in her hands to hide her tears. She couldn't see what was happening but just a second later, she felt the bed sink down with another weight. Warm hands grasped her body, pulling her into a hard body. Cassian leaned down to brush his lips against her ear.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. Nesta didn't say anything. "Look at me."

His gentle voice melted something within her. She tried to inconspicuously wipe her tears before lifting her head up and meeting his gaze.

His lips turned up in a small smile, and he brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Cassian put two fingers under her chin and lifted her face up until their lips touched in the gentlest kiss she'd ever had.

This time, Nesta didn't hesitate as she kissed Cassian back.

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

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#nessian #acotar #my writing #nesta archeron #cassian #fanfiction #fic #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of silver flames #smut #angst #halloween

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just-ornstein · 3 years

Note

Capp siblings, Tybalt, Juliette & Hermia ❤️💔🌈🔮🌷🍕

Ahhh my children! <3 Thank you for this ask!

Tybalt Capp: ❤️: OTP Mercutio/Tybalt... I mean is that even a surprise? Besides the enemies to friends to lovers trophe that I absolutely adore, reading Shakespeare, the play "Tybalt and Mercutio are Dead", watching the movies and their Sims bios/memories, I felt like both may have way more in common than they might think! Both the black sheep of their family, ton of responsibilities placed on their shoulders from a young age and in reality both simply want to be told that they're doing a good job. I think that once they'd put their Monty/Capp status aside and have a genuine conversation they'd quickly come to realize they're not that different at all!

💔: No OTP Honestly, I'm not too big on Tybalt with anyone but Mercutio (even though Puck/Tybalt can be kinda cute). However, I cannot for the life of me imagine Tybalt in a straight relationship, even makes me mildly uncomfortable because I so strongly headcanon him as gay. To anyone that does like him as straight, totally cool, more fun to you! In the end everyone plays Sims differently and as long as you're having fun that's all that matters. :D I just cannot imagine Tybalt as Straight myself haha.

🌈: Sexuality Ohhh, this dude is gay, very, very gay. He didn't realize for the longest time, just thinking he hadn't found the right girl yet, until well... He got to know Mercutio properly and he was shot with Cupid's arrow. A lot of frustration piled up that he didn't even realize had to do with the fact he was developing feelings for someone.

🔮: Something Random With some Occult ancestry on his father's side he may have more magic running in the family than he might think. ;) He's also amazing at fencing, something that was taught to him from an early age on and often used for self-defense... And sometimes simply to show-off. Cares a great deal about his family as well, like his sisters are his everything. A secondary Family Sim for sure!

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Tybalt has a lot of internal turmoil but he has some fond memories of picking flowers with his mom as a child. Forget-Me-Not was a common flower to be found and sometimes he still likes to be near them to be reminded of his mom. Amaryllis is also a flower he loves, planted in the Veronaville gardens his mom would sometimes pick a few pretty ones to put on his room. They represent pride and self-confidence. The name meaning 'to sparkle' because Cordelia loved seeing her son blossom into the young and loving person he was turning out to be. Sadly when she died his self-confidence went down the drain and he became way more agressive about trying to keep up that pride. These flowers are some he does keep on his room, or pick out when he sees them blooming in the garden to bring to his parents grave. Lastly Wolfbane also known as Aconitum. A beautiful purple flower often associated with Occults. This one I picked for him because I feel like that while they are beautiful, these flowers are often associated with a warning sign, to remain cautious. But even misantrophy and death. The colour purple is also associated with magic, richness and royalty (and all 3 of these flowers have pinkish-purple colours, or at least variations that have it). The reason why I picked these in particular? Well... It will later on become more apparent as the story progresses. ;)

🍕: Pizza Topping Onions, pepperoni and extra cheese!

Juliette Capp: ❤️: OTP I don't really have an OTP for her, but I do like her with Romeo and while I'm actually pairing Romeo with someone else for the first time. They're still a pairing that I think is cute and could definitely work on the long run. But they need to remain open and honest with each other. I don't interpret Romeo being a Romance Sim as him being unfaithful, but rather that he cares a great deal about romance, loves affection and may, be polygamous. Once they talk everything out I think they would literally die for each other, I mean hey, they're Romeo and Juliette! They'd be the type of super cutesy couple you'd see on the street, sharing ice cream, laughing, etc.

💔: No OTP I don't think I have a pairing for Juliette that I genuinely dislike. At least I haven't ran across anything that made me go: Ehhhh.

🌈: Sexuality As Straight as a pole! She might be bi-curious, but I think she would lean way more to men. She's also asexual!

🔮: Something Random Is actually very good at writing poetry and keeps several collections in her room, she would likely send them to Romeo or read them for him. And Romeo? Has kept every single one she's written for him in a specially assigned book in his room. He keeps them very close to him as they're very special. Juliette also probably doesn't even want to be the Heiress, but it appears she doesn't have much of a choice. She was raised to carry on the name, something she had been prepared for since birth. But she doesn't dare bring it up, most of it is probably placed in underlying insecurities. If she had someone she could talk to she would probably feel way more confident in her role.

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Sunflowers! Their brightness and colours just bring so much happiness to her and if it came to her she would probably have grown them in the garden of their mansion as well. Sunflowers also stand for faithfulness, loyalty and adoration, something which in my opinion greatly represents Juliette who's probably of the most supportive people you can have in your friend group.

🍕: Pizza Topping Tomatoes, cheese, olives, onions and mozzarella! If she's feeling especially daring green peppers on top of it as well.

Hermia Capp: ❤️: OTP Hermia/Puck or Hermia/Puck/Romeo! I wasn't too sure on Hermia/Puck at first until a friend of mine really managed to sell me on the idea. They're soulmates, very much meant to be together, loving to share knowledge with each other, tarots, fortune telling, magic, etc. They also love each other for everything that they are, even the flaws, trusting each other with everything. I cannot really say why I love Hermia/Puck/Romeo yet as it would be a major story spoiler, but I do think Hermia and Romeo have way more in common than one might think as well. c:

💔: No OTP Hermia/Mercutio, I simply cannot see it happening. While I think she may have held feeling towards him, they weren't deeply rooted and in the end Puck had always been her first love. Mercutio does eventually understand and move on from it as well. They remain close friends.

🌈: Sexuality She's bi and falls for someones personality. While she can develop crushes easily, she only falls in love deeply after developing a deep and emotional bond with someone.

🔮: Something Random Hermia is a trans woman, something she knew very early on. Her family and friends have been nothing but supportive! Hermia, despite what her interests may reflect is actually fascinated by magic, occults, sci-fi, etc. Similarly to Tybalt she's got magical ancestory and if stimulated it's very likely she might become one of the most powerful Witches the world has ever seen. She's always been interested in nature and Puck's fairy ancestory and likely would want to become a part of that world in the future as well.

🌷: Flowers or Plants They Like Unlike her siblings Hermia is moreso a succulent type of person. Being into magic and dating Puck she's started making herself more familiar with them, as well as herbs and spices, to try and get into making medicines and potions. Succulents are also way easier to take care off than flowers which can decay rather easily. If she had to pick a flower she'd like (although she would mostly use it for her hair or decorations) it would be a Sea Holly, which despite their prickly and torny exterior have beautifully dark colours, which is also great to be used in medicines.

🍕: Pizza Topping Mozzarella pizzas are her favourites, she also likes herbs on top of it for some additional flavours.

#lizzy speaks #the sims 2 #tybalt capp #juliette capp #hermia capp #headcanons

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kirishimas-manly-eyeliner · 3 years

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[ ♛ ] EVENT #4: THE MUTUAL MATCHMAKER.

YOUR SOULMATE IS...

@elektrosonix x tanaka rynosuke !!

TANAKA !! <3

little spoon or big spoon // confesses first or waits to be confessed to first // likes pda or prefers to be alone // slowburn or love at first sight // enemies to lovers or friends to lovers or rivals to lovers // late-night car karaoke or late-night takeout // makes food or can’t cook without burning up the kitchen // hugs or hand-holding // breakfast in bed or tv dinners // cries in sad dog movies or remains stone-faced // likes horror movies or hates horror movies (shhhh don’t tell anyone) // first date at the beach or the movies

TROPES !! <3

enemies to lovers or rivals to lovers or friends to lovers // there was only one bed or soulmate au // red-string au or written-on-skin soulmate au // coffee shop or flower shop // slow-burn or love at first sight // fake-dating to lovers or arranged marriage

EXPLANATION !! <3

no because you two?? just?? make me so happy?? okay sis i know you saw it coming from a mile away, but FRICK i haven’t been more certain of any other ship except you and tanaka. because you two have CHEMISTRY. not the toxic kind, the kind that everyone searches for in life but never gets it, but you, my dearest, deserve every single BIT of love that tanaka has for you. okay!! tanaka is definitely the little spoon because he’s used to hyping people up, ya know?? so sis he deserves to have someone cuddle him and OH THIS BOY IS SO GRATEFUL LAHACJSCHj oh oh and he definitely confesses on accident. it’s actually kind of obvious, except you’re a slow-burn romance so he stays quiet heheh <3 he also loves to cook, except he tends to get distracted and messes up easily (he once ended up setting off the fire alarm.) ALSO ALSO ugh your rivals to lovers dynamic >>>> you start off just making fun of eachother but then he falls for youIAUHFLIUFLAIUFHAC

HEADCANONS !! <3

when tanaka started feeling self-doubt, you were the one to snap him back into shape and tell him “YOU’RE DOING YOUR BEST. KEEP GOING TANAKA.” and he just?? got?? so happy?? and oop notice how he stopped flirting with any other managers after that,,,, but at first, tanaka was really insecure about you two getting together. extremely insecure. he thought that his only redeeming quality was humour and didn’t trust himself enough, until right after a winning game, he got so happy that TANAKA SCOOPED YOU UP AND KISSED YOU ADJHUSUICS IT KIND OF WENT LIKE THIS: “...!! I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO I-” but then you laugh in this way that makes his stomach fill with butterflies and say, “it’s okay, ryuno. i feel the same way.” and the look on his face??? FRICK FRICK I LOVE YOUR DYNAMIC SO MUCH SFHSUICSHUCU || but still, for fun, tanaka and noya like to praise kiyoko for being amazing, but every single time after, he grabs you and literally sparkles, and says “but i love my girlfriend more 😤😤<3″ and shut up noya ships you two so much. he’s like “HAHA! DON’T YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON TANAKA’S GIRLFRIEND” and tanaka is just flexing going like “SEE THIS??? I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND AND SHE’S AMAZING!” he loves showing you off. he will literally scoop you up in his arms and just brag about how amazing he thinks you are. YOU DESERVE ONLY THE BEST

WITH YOUR DESCRIPTION THAT YOU SENT ME !! <3

shut because when you get overwhelmed with too many thoughts he starts tapping on your knuckles. at first, you were like “??” but it just grew on you and he likes making tiny circles on your knuckles FRICK

so whenever you get anxious or nervous, he slides down on the wall next to you, kisses your forehead and starts rubbing those tiny circles while holding your hand

AND OML OML there is nothing he loves more than seeing you make music. he usually didn’t find it that appealing, but the moment he saw you play, boom, cue the cherry blossoms, cue the green screen backdrop, he was just in this entirely different world and loves it. and whenever you perform, COUNT ON HIM TO TAG ALONG?? also he makes it a tradition that instead of a bouquet of flowers to congratulate you, he gets you these cute flower hairclips and wears them with you USHFILAUFHU

no but you don’t understand the reason why he does it, specifically for you is because he DOESN’T HAVE HAIR AUIADAJAJA so the last time you saw him try to wear them and he saw you laugh, he just wanted to make you happy so he continued doing it?? so now he puts on the clips with you even though he doesn’t have hair just to see you laugh

count on him to be as honest as possible. he’s probably a bit too honest and likes to tell you a lot of stuff, but he’ll never actually lie straight-up to your face, because hE WOULD NEVER EVER DISRESPECT YOU LIKE THAT??? PLS i can see him on his knees and apologizing oml “elek, my dearest, i beg of you for forgiveness for eating the last cookie,, will you ever forgive me??” FRICK I LOVE YOU TWO SM

MOODBOARD !! <3

#ELEKNOSUKE SUPERMACY

#eleanor's 500 event! (closed)#PLEASE KNOW THAT I TRIED TO PICK THE BEST PHOTOS #AND THE BEST EVERYTHING #I JUST KEPT SCROLLING AND WENT #ah yes this has eleknosuke energy #i TRIED TO THINK OF OTHER CANDIDATES #BUT NONE OF THEM SLAPPED AS HARD #GOODNESS ILY TWO SM #tanaka headcanons #tanaka x reader #kme: elektrosonix #ellie loves her moots!

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bangtiddies · 4 years

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Full Moons and Arrows

Pairing: Prince!Jimin x Female Reader, a split second of Taehyung x Unnamed Female OC Genre: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Fantasy Rating: PG15 Words: 3.1k Warnings: minor violence, blood, kidnapping, mentioned death, use of weapons, mentioned sex

Summary: Despite having spent almost five full moons with Prince Jimin, you haven’t managed to tell him of your past. On the night of your fifth full moon together, your old enemies discover your whereabouts.

Note: unedited because I’m a fool. I’m so sorry that this took me so long to write jdfksnkekd but here’s my last Drinks & Drabbles fic!! This fic is heavily inspired by D&D and those fantasy historical anime I used to watch as a kid (*cough* Inuyasha *cough*) Requested by @hyyunjins for Drinks & Drabbles: i would like to request jimin + wine + whiskey ;-;

Jimin is never late, always making it by the entrance of your orchard thirty minutes after sunset. He always greets you with a kind smile, affection in his eyes. A passionate kiss, hand intertwining with yours, “I missed you today.”

So, you feel a shiver down your spine when the glass candle clock tells you that it has been almost sixty minutes since you lit it after sunset. Jimin is late. And it’s not something you can shrug off — he would send his trusted adviser to inform you if he got caught up in business. You know that with Jimin’s status as the crown prince and how fast rumours spread in the small kingdom, news of him being potentially unwell would have reached you by now. Not to mention that you had seen Jimin earlier today in the village when he was tending to some business, fond look in his eyes telling you that he would meet you tonight under the full moon.

It’s become somewhat of a tradition to meet under the full moon and spend the night together, ever since you had met him five moons ago. Since then, you had been courted by the crown prince. Since then, the nights spent together would sometimes last a full candle clock.

Five moons ago, you had arrived in the small kingdom with your friend Jungkook, deciding to settle down. There was an orchard owned by an elderly elven couple that the two of you had inherited after a mission that lasted four moons. The owners were thankful of the two of you granting their favour, and since they had no heir, they gifted their orchard to you in gratitude.

Settling down was a decision that you and Jungkook agreed on, disbanding from your party of rogue travellers and wanting nothing more than to settle in one place. To finally find a place to call home. You had offered the rest of your friends to settle alongside you and Jungkook, but they denied your offer, still wanting to live in the thrill of adventure.

On the second night of your settlement, you were greeted by a beautiful prince at the entrance of the orchard. Kind eyes and friendly conversation lead into stories of the young prince’s childhood spent playing in the orchard and picking the fruit off the trees. Several nights under the stars passed, slowly falling into a romantic rhythm with the crown prince. Until one night, under the first full moon, you were courted by the prince, confessions shared and a candle clock spent in passion.

Five moons have passed and you’re still enamoured by Jimin, Crown Prince of Jasmine, just like you were the first night you met him. A season has passed, and your lover looks even more beautiful under the cherry blossom trees. Despite your love for him, you’ve yet to tell him of your past. He knows that you were an adventurer before settling in Jasmine, but the reputation you once had is something you’ve kept in the dark.

Perchance you’ll be telling him very soon.

You see a glimpse of the shadow of a person on the path toward the orchard, worry filling your lungs as the candle clock burns past the sixty minute mark. It takes a while to find the owner of the shadow, only to have a person you had not seen in five moons appearing by the trees beside you. Your eyes widen, an unsettling feeling travelling down your back. It’s too convenient for an old friend to appear when your lover is late. There’s no way that this could be a coincidence.

“Fox,” you whisper into the silent night. “What are you doing here?”

Jung Hoseok, also known as Zinnia’s Fox, one of the best rogues you know, looks conflicted. His sombre expression brings a constricting feeling of fear to your chest. Jungkook, who seemed to have noticed Hoseok’s arrival, stumbles out of the front door of your humble house. Doe eyes wide, he looks between you and Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok says, taking a shaky breath in. “The Crimson River Bandits, they--”

“They have the prince, don’t they,” Jungkook says, realising the situation after seeing how much time has passed since lighting the candle clock.

“I overheard them talking about capturing the Monkey’s lover and I had to come here to inform you.”

“Is the rest of the team with you,” you ask.

Hoseok nods. “They’re in the forest by Jasmine’s Southern river.”

“The bandits?”

“By the river.”

“Of course they are,” Jungkook mutters. “Bloody river bandits and their obsession with rivers.”

“Rabbit,” you say, Jungkook’s alias feeling so odd on your tongue after so long. “Get my bow and arrows, will you?”

Jungkook’s eyes light up. “Are we fighting again?”

You smirk. “Of course we are. Those bandits picked the wrong target.”

(As you rush down to the river, Jungkook lets out a confused huff.

“Why would river bandits want to kidnap your prince?”

Hoseok lets out a chuckle. “Remember when Monkey retrieved that crimson artifact for the noble family thirteen moons ago? Apparently it was one of their most prized stolen possessions.”

You scoff. “They’ve been holding a grudge for that long? How pathetic.”

Jungkook laughs, excitement coursing through his veins. “This is going to be so fun.”)

The Crimson River Bandits are known for their bloody deeds, usually performed by a river so that the outcome from their fights turns the water into a deep crimson colour. You know that they’re after your head, so you have faith that they’ve yet to kill your beloved. Most bandits that you’ve come across find more thrill in fair fighting and looting — killing a prince would definitely put an unwanted target on their backs from people other than a skilled rogue party. And with the reputation that your party had, they probably only expected to fight you alone.

Your old party greets you when Hoseok leads you to their camp in the forest. Taehyung pulls both you and Jungkook into a bone crushing hug upon your arrival, blabbering about how he missed you.

“Starling has his eyes on the bandits. He’ll signal us if the bandits do anything suspicious,” Taehyung says after pulling away from the two of you.

Seokjin has a teasing glint to his eyes when he approaches you. “So, a prince, huh? You’ve really settled down.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, averting your eyes so you don’t lose your composure under Seokjin’s teasing gaze. “And?”

“They’re disgusting,” Jungkook teases. “They make love under every full moon.”

“I will skin you alive,” you grit through your teeth.

“Careful, she might actually hurt you,” Namjoon warns from where he’s sitting by the tents, eyes not leaving his spell book.

“We should also make our way to the river,” Hoseok says, before turning to Namjoon. “Are your spells ready?”

Namjoon sighs and nods. “I hope I don’t have to use them, though.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Seokjin says.

“Raccoon, make sure to signal us if anyone targets the camp,” Hoseok says, turning to the bard standing by the tents. She nods her head in response.

The river isn’t far from the forest, but far enough that the plan for rescue won’t be heard from where the river bandits are situated. Seokjin lays out the plan to you and Jungkook before you leave. Soon enough, your team of six are stealthily making your way toward the bandit camp by the river.

When the camp comes into view, your breath hitches. There’s no sight of Jimin yet — you suspect that he’s probably being held in one of the tents, away from sight. You check your peripheral vision, to see if anyone from your party is in sight, before revealing yourself in front of the bandits. They sneer and laugh at the sight of you on your own, probably thinking that they’ll have you cornered. You stand with the most powerful posture you can, keeping your head up.

“You have the prince,” you state.

A man steps forward with a menacing grin, yellow teeth showing proudly. From the red garb that he’s wearing, you assume that he’s the leader of the bandits. “You arrived quickly. How did you like our message?”

You didn’t receive the message, having already left the orchard before it was sent by arrow. But you know the contents of it, information from Hoseok’s amazing eavesdropping skills coming in handy.

“It was pretty pathetic,” you said, glaring at the leader. You want to rile them up as much as you can. “If you want to seek vengeance against me, why kidnap a prince? Why not ambush me when my guard is down?”

The leader laughs and it echoes through the silent night. “He’s your beloved, is he not? Holding him captive will prevent you from running from us just like our last encounter.”

“I had no business with you in our last encounter. I already had what I needed.”

The man’s grin drops into a sneer. “You took an artifact that was important to us.”

“The artifact was not yours to begin with.”

“Silence,” the leader growls, pulling out his scimitar. “Or I will kill the prince with my own hands.”

You smirk. “Now, you wouldn’t be foolish enough to kill a prince, would you?”

“I will make it that the river turns crimson with your blood for getting away from the Crimson River Bandits. Men! Get the prince,” the leader spits, glaring at you as his mouth widens into a menacing grin. “Don’t worry, wench, we’ll let you see your beloved before you perish.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t say a word. You need to make sure that Jimin is alive and well first.

The bandits bring Jimin out from one of their tents, the young prince struggling in their grip. His wrists are tied together by rope, the red burn around his wrists evidence that he’s been fighting the moment he’s been captured.

“Let me down!” he yells at them. “Get me out of these restraints immediately!”

When he notices you standing by the river, his eyes widen. He stops struggling, mouth open, about to speak to you.

“Dear prince, how nice of you to join us,” the leader says with a glint in his eyes, grin teasing you.

“Nice?” Jimin scoffs. “I was taken here against my will.”

The leader laughs. “You can blame your beloved for that.”

Jimin looks over to you, noticing your hostile state, the fact that you’re not in restraints like himself. His soft eyes ask you a million questions, and you try to send him a message with a single expression. He gives you a nod, and you hope that it means that he understood.

“Are you petty enough to hold a grudge for thirteen moons,” you ask the leader.

“You took an artifact from us,” the leader snarled.

“So you decided to hold my beloved captive?” you laugh. “Unfortunately, you picked the wrong enemy.”

You draw an arrow, causing the rest of the bandits to draw their weapons. Jimin’s eyes widen, trying his best to remove himself from the restraints. The situations seems unfair. There’s about thirty bandits. Against one you.

Suddenly, a yell is heard from behind one of the tents. A bandit falls unconscious, weapon now disappeared, the sound of rustling in the bushes nearby.

The leader turns to see his fallen bandit, before turning back to you with a glare.

“You have people with you,” he states.

You smirk. “Did you really think I was going to come alone?”

Lightening strikes, barely missing one of the bandits, starting the ambush from your party. Each of your party members appear from different areas of the camp, fighting away the bandits and disarming them. You jump back onto the bridge, keeping yourself at a good distance from the camp for your ranged weapons. A shadow weaves between bandits to swiftly remove Jimin from his restraints, all while taking down the bandits by his side.

“Thanks,” Jimin says to the man who freed him, taking in his black attire and harnesses. With the man is a familiar face, Jeon Jungkook, hands and feet bare, in a stance prepared to fight.

Hoseok smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Monkey’s beloved.”

Jungkook scoffs from beside him, kicking and punching away any bandit that came close to the prince. “Stop being weird, Fox.”

“I have an ought to meet the man who stole the heart of my friend,” Hoseok says to Jungkook, before striking a bandit who comes up behind him and disarming him. He then turns to Jimin. “I can take you somewhere safe.”

Jimin’s eyes harden, cold stare toward the leader who’s occupied by a giant tiger. “I’m not going anywhere. I can fight.”

“Prince Jimin, please,” Jungkook starts, wanting to deter Jimin from staying the middle of the camp, the fear of the potential of the prince being struck by a weapon in his mind. But he sighs, seeing the determined look on the prince’s face. “Don’t get hurt.”

Jimin nods, picking up a weapon from one of the fallen bandits, and readying himself for the fight. Jungkook smiles with excitement and curiosity, having never seen this side of the prince before. He would assume that this Jimin was someone else completely different from the one he knew, if it weren’t for the soft glances he keeps making toward you.

Half the bandits down and disarmed, you continue to shoot your arrows toward the rest of the bandits, making sure you don’t kill them. You notice that Taehyung’s struggling with the leader of the bandits on his own and decide to help, not seeing Jimin sneaking up on the leader.

When you do, however, it’s too late.

Your eyes widen, hands shaking. It’s too late. You’ve already let go of your arrow. Your world slows as your arrow strikes Jimin instead of the leader of the bandits.

You quickly jump off the bridge, running toward where Jimin is. The leader, distracted by Jimin’s yell of pain, is suddenly disarmed by Taehyung, taking the leader’s weapons with a growl. Jimin strikes the man with his weapon before falling, arrow still lodged in his back.

“Jimin!” you yell, catching your beloved before he hits the ground. You make sure to not touch the arrow, not wanting to make the injury worse. Guilt rises in your throat as you noticed Jimin’s ragged breathing.

“Hey,” he smiles at you, love in his eyes. “You’re pretty cool, you know.”

You try to smile back, keeping your emotions at bay. You can’t show the bandits any vulnerability. “Just keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

The leader of the bandits laughs, gripping onto his bleeding arm. He opens his mouth to say something condescending, only for Hoseok to jump through the shadows to blow some sleeping powder in the leader’s face.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” Hoseok says to the leader, getting one last tired sneer before the man passes out. The rest of your party runs to where the rest of you are, Yoongi already by Jimin’s side to give him a quick healing spell.

“All the bandits are disarmed and unconscious,” Namjoon lets Hoseok know.

Hoseok nods. “Let’s get back to camp.”

You’re lucky that your party has some decent healers, worry no longer sitting in your chest as you sit by the fire of your party’s camp. Yoongi plays his lute to entertain the rest of your teammates as you wait for Jimin to fully heal. Taehyung, back in his human form, rests in his tent with his beloved, scars he received from fighting with the leader of the bandits being healed by her.

Jimin walks out of the tent after a few songs, Seokjin following after him. His eyes scan the camp before they land on you, a wide smile breaking out on his face. He walks to you and you intertwine your fingers with his as he sits next to you.

“How are you feeling,” you ask in a quiet voice.

“Like I’m brand new.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, guilt still in your chest.

“Hey,” Jimin whispers, pulling you in so your head hits his chest. “I’m alive. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

Yoongi starts a new song and this time, Jungkook sings along with his soft and beautiful voice. The two of you sit together in silence, listening to the beautiful music. Seokjin is sitting close by so he can keep an eye on Jimin, but he gives the two of you privacy and starts a hushed conversation with Hoseok.

“So,” Jimin says after a while, pulling away from the hug so he can look at you, teasing glint in his eyes. “You’re a ranger, huh?”

You nod. “I wasn’t sure how I could tell you. I’m sorry.”

Jimin laughs. “It’s fine. We’ve only known each other for five moons. We have plenty more time to get to know each other.”

“Well, I guess I should also let you know that I’m known as Hydrangea’s Monkey.”

“I heard,” Jimin smirks. “Even I knew about Hydrangea’s Monkey before I met you. When the crimson bandits talked of Hydrangea’s Monkey, I couldn’t believe that they were talking about you.”

“So,” you ask. “What will you do with this information?”

Jimin leans into you, lips centimetres away from yours. “I think I want to see more of Hydrangea’s Monkey. You look ravishing when you fight.”

You close the gap between you and Jimin, locking your lips with his, kissing him with passion, desperation, love, love, love. You run your fingers through his hair and he gasps into the kiss, hands gripping your waist.

“Hey, not in front of the kids!” Seokjin yells, running to Jungkook so he can cover his eyes.

“I’m not a child!” Jungkook exclaims, fighting Seokjin’s hands. “I’ve seen enough of their lip-locking already.”

You pull away from the kiss so you can laugh at your friends, arms still over Jimin’s shoulders. Jimin’s hands don’t leave your waist, instead he grips them tighter.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Jimin whispers.

You turn to him, a glint in your eyes, smile on your face. “Let’s go find ourselves some privacy.”

The two of you swiftly sneak away from your party, giggling together and holding hands as you find a nice clearing under the moon. You spend your fifth full moon with Jimin like you always do, only tonight is filled with more love and passion than the full moons before. That night, you make a promise. A promise for a future, a promise to get to know each other more.

Under the fifth full moon together, you find yourself loving Jimin more than you thought you ever could.

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dangermousie · 4 years

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Mousie’s New and Improved Top 20 Cdramas List

Because why not. These are ordered in terms of being my favorite as opposed to pure quality - if I was trying to be objective, it would probably be rearranged, but I like being petty and subjective.

You will notice that literally every drama on this list is a period drama. Much as I adore period cdramas, contemporary ones rarely work for me.

20. Princess Agents (tie)

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll6x8zf2CnQ

Our heroine is a slave in a brutal society who becomes a feared general, fighting for freedom and love of a Yan prince. But her heart might actually lie with a seemingly cold adversary who is madly in love with her (I shipped them so hard!) I was one of five people who loved the infamous cliffhanger ending because it made a brutal kind of sense (You can read the novel if you want a different resolution.)

20. Tribes and Empires (tie)

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WyRsPAGUz-Q

This one has a hell of an open ending, but it’s so gorgeous and epic, I don’t even care. Set in a fantasy empire, it follows three men - a half-human prince, a cursed son of a general, and an orphaned leader of a barbarian tribe. A feast for the eyes.

19. Ice Fantasy

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C05lhfrWgQg

A visually stunning high fantasy with elves, quests, a shockingly wonderful hero, brotherly love, toughest lady general ever as OTP and basically everything I like.

18. The General and I

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XDR17kwXYM

The lengthy OTP separation brings its place in this list down, but otherwise a gorgeous romance between two enemies - a general and a female strategist, is a total swoon and so intense.

17. Three Kingdoms 2010

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3RVpdYDpYA

This one is a magnum opus of 100 episodes, with a tour de force performance by Chen Jian Bin as Cao Cao. Battles, politics, and even though it’s very secondary, one of my favorite love stories in cdramas. This one is if you want to use your brain as well as your heart.

16. Colourful Bone

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G4O5yb3VBh4

It probably doesn’t deserve to be this high on the list but it hits all my narrative and shippy kinks with a common-sense heroine taking in an abused and mistreated death machine and teaching him to be human. Mmmm.

15. Young Warriors

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BO83qvKaoSM

What do you get when you have seven awesome heroic brothers, a star-studded cast, tragic stories about heroism and love and just amazingness? You get this drama.

14. Strange Hero Yi Zi Mei

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wFVDAuFOyWE

Band of misfits fight corruption and uncover mysteries. This one is the most underrated drama on my list. Also, Wallace Huo has never been hotter in his life and that is saying something.

13. The Battle of Changsha

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbgFMaUfpnE

By the same people who wrote Minglan, this follows a family in 1930s China and is a quiet, devastating masterpiece.

12. Prince of Lan Ling

MV (warning - spoilery): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jUVGP0HETo

He’s the consummate battle god. She is a mystical shaman. He is fated to be with someone else per prophecy but he doesn’t care and chooses her. True love, politics, battles, jealousy, amazingness, tragedy. I love them so.

11. Gong/Jade Palace Lock Heart

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVFPVkHaweo

This is Boys over Flowers goes Qing (where Domyoji’s behavior finally makes sense since he’s a literal prince and Rui likes to kill people.) This is such a amazing good fun, about a modern woman time traveling to the time of the fight for the throne between Kangxi’s sons. She thinks she likes the seemingly gentle Four but ends up with hot-blooded, awesome Eight. She herself is tough as all get out and this is pure deliciousness from beginning to end. Yang Mi and Feng Shao Feng had such amazing chemistry, people RPShipped them for years.

10. Return of the Condor Heroes 2006

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JzXsBqVYp0I

My first cdrama ever, and what a gorgeous one it was. That’s what got me into cdramas. The childhood eps are pretty awful but after that, it’s pure shippy perfection with an incredible OTP. If you want to be in a constant romantic swoon, in that story of female master and her male disciple and their forbidden love, this one is for you.

9. Eternal Love/Three Lives Three Worlds Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9-ry-W4Crg

Fated immortal lovers, reincarnations, the whole enchilada. Yang Mi and Mark Chao have insane chemistry that burns up the screen. The first few eps are slow, but it makes up for it afterwards.

8. Legend of Fuyao

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkMX1d0v7t0

A twisty epic romance with a super-powered heroine who is plain awesome and may destroy the world, and a smart, ruthless prince who’s only soft for her. I love it so much!

7. Legend of Condor Heroes 2008

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c2fea109_qM

Plot twists, good guy hero with a mega smart OTP, tragic anti-hero who becomes a villain for a while with an amazing OTP, bromance, fights, everything. I just adore this one.

6. Bu Bu Jing Xin/Startling By Each Step

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R9B3Rddrqt0

The one that started the time-travel craze (well, that and Gong), about a modern woman who time travels to the time of Emperor Kangxi’s sons’ fight for the throne, this is a gorgeously filmed tragic love story, with one of the most perfectly brutal endings out there. I adore it.

5. Nirvana in Fire

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4wps7SK9xo

This is a smart story about politics and revenge, where a survivor of a wrongly destroyed family comes to get justice. Seemingly laid back until it explodes. Not much romance but it doesn’t even need it.

4. Rise of the Phoenixes

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w0BUvMKSj4E

Like the dramas to destroy you? Come right in. A story about a disfavored prince and a lost daughter of a previous dynasty, this is smart, gorgeous, and is going to wreck you.

3. Ever Night (s1)

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x99seU5qJuc

I have talked enough about it recently so I won’t say much more, but if you want epic, movie-like quality, characters you will love, amazing battles and cinematography, complicated world-building and an OTP to die for, come right in.

2. The Myth

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rfyfKM_Ww0

For the longest time, this was my favorite cdrama, to be replaced only by Minglan. It starts out funny and ends up tearing out your heart. This is the only time in my drama watching experience I cried so hard I threw up. The story is about two accidental time-travelers - a photographer and a cook - who end up in Qin Dynasty China. And from then on it’s about how that cruel, horrifying world takes two perfectly normal men and by wracking their very souls turns one into a hero and the other into a monster. To me, this is Hu Ge’s best performance and as you see his protagonist desperately try to hold on to his humanity and his love in a world that is doing its best to destroy it, I dare you not to cry like a baby. His character is my ultimate cdrama crush.

1. The Story of Minglan

MV: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FA7m2QktiUk

Aaaaaand, my n1. cdrama is the amazing, too short at 73 eps, The Story of Minglan. It is very hard to describe the plot of this - a sort of Elizabeth Gaskell meets period China. It follows three interconnected upper-class families, but more specifically, it is about Shen Minglan, a concubine-born daughter of a minister and Gu Tingye, the oldest, legitimate, and hated by his family son of a Marquess. Their narratives run largely parallel for the first half of the story and such is the genius of this drama that I, the ultimate romance junkie, did not mind that. Minglan is a rarity in dramaworld - she is fiercely smart, very collected and emotionally detached. Life in the troubled Shen household taught her to survive and to hide her feelings and talents. Tingye is a big cdrama love. Abused and reviled by his household where he can do no right (the Marquess hated having to marry his merchant mother for money and has displaced that hate on her son), Tingye manages to keep his warm heart but acquires the ability to go his own way. Both of the protagonists are wonderful and smart and magnetic and rootable for separately, but when they get together, the sparks go off the charts and they become my n1 cdrama OTP of all time. A lot of the story is about family battles, women’s world dilemmas and relationship (of all sorts) interactions. There is also politics and battles, but the true charm of this drama are the mundane details of the world and the fully-fleshed out people who inhabit it. If you watch only one cdrama in your life, make it this one.

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bidnezz · 3 years

Text

Revenant [1/5]

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, background Clary/Izzy, mentions of past Magnus/Camille

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Violence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Downworlder Politics, Betrayal, Revenge, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Light Romance, Mystery, Prophecy, Minor Character Death, lots of death

Summary:

Alec has heard the legends of Magnus Bane. He knows all the tales and he’s read all the records of his downfall. The High Warlock of Brooklyn who became so hungry for power that he began to mistreat the very warlocks who sought his help. It’s been a hundred years since then, and when a sudden rift opening between realms brings an onslaught of lesser demons, so too does it bring Magnus Bane, insatiable and vengeful for the power and people that locked him away in Edom. As newly appointed Head of the New York Institute, it’s Alec’s job to protect the residents of New York from one of the greatest Demons he’s ever faced. Only, he has no idea how, and maybe things aren't what they seem.

Art by the talented: @abby0007

Beta’d by the wonderful: @squiggly-lines-on-a-page

Read on ao3

Something to note: This fic is extremely AU. I've fitted a lot of events that we know to be canon (such as dates of events happening) to fit my story, and the past events happened around the early 1900's, until present canon time. There are also many mentions of blood and wounds and lots of death in the fic, so please be wary if that's a no for you!

Chapter One

Rushing residents and evening traffic fills the bustling streets of New York as the surrounding sky begins to darken with the dusk of the setting sun. Nightlife begins as shadows emerge from the alleyways, and doors that lead to no good open with the creak of bad decisions. The Downworld rises to the occasion, drinks in-hand and smiles plastered. So, too, do the Nephilim of the New York Institute who patrol the streets to keep tabs on those unknowing of the dangers that lurk in the dark.

Alexander Lightwood stands alone, weighted with shoulders heavy and nervous energy surrounding him in his new office.

Head of the Institute.

The words roll around his tongue, foreign in his mouth but synonymous with him now. It feels… odd. But welcome.

A knock brings him back, a light rapping of knuckles on the thick wooden door, followed by ebony hair and dark red lips encasing a grin that could only belong to his sister. “Alec,” she calls, her grin turning wry. “Or should I say Head of the Institute?”

“I’ve seen the position lost to better people than I, let’s not jinx this.”

“People? Yes. Leaders?” Isabelle pauses for effect as she strides towards Alec, a dramatic flair he knows to always expect. “I haven’t seen a leader yet, more deserving than you, dear brother. You can be happy for yourself, Alec. Smile, gloat, live a little. Even in the confines of this tiny room.”

Hard as he tries, Alec can’t reign in the small smile that curves his lips. He won’t gloat, he won’t yell and cheer and celebrate. That’s not him. But he will allow himself to feel pride and happiness in this small moment in time with his sister, and he’ll lock it away as a cherished memory to strengthen their bond. This is a turning point for him, a chance to uphold the Lightwood name and make his parents proud. Finally, a chance for them to see exactly the type of leader they raised, a chance to prove that it was all worth it - will be worth it. A chance for him to look upon his mother’s face and for once see something other than barely concealed disappointment and contempt.

“Hey buddy,” A low rasp calls from the opened door to the office. Jace rests against the curved door frame, arms crossed and wide smile dimpling his cheeks. “Oh,” he starts, adjusting his posture to stand perfectly upright as he offers a small salute to Alec. “I guess I should be more proper in front of our new leader, eh?”

The twinkle in his eyes and the way his smile devolves into a shit-eating grin only pulls a small chuckle from Alec, and he reaches his arm out to grip Jace’s as he’s pulled into a rough, brotherly hug. It’s warm, comforting, and when Isabelle joins in - complete.

Right here, right now… this is the turning point for Alec. No more failing, no more letting anyone down. This is where his new life as a leader begins, where everything he’s worked towards shifts into what it was always meant to be. This is what he was born for.

So then why does it feel so empty?

There's a gnawing inside of his chest, a cavern of muddled introspection and half understanding. The goal was always this, the finish line has been crossed and his direction never clearer. But under the anxiety of being freshly anointed, if Alec were to peel away the layers of doubt and worry until he’s viewing his own satisfied ego, what else would he see? Happiness, of course, to some extent. Nothing more, and nothing less. Unfulfilled pockets inside of him that yearn in wonder, and desire for something more.

A mother’s love, perhaps. To be accepted and finally seen as enough.

Yes. An affirmation from Maryse Lightwood herself, and Alec’s sure he’ll feel that last puzzle piece locked into place. ‘But for now,’ Alec thinks to himself as he watches Isabelle and Jace enraptured in a hilarious conversation no doubt at his expense, ‘I’ve got all I need right in front of me.’

With his day just beginning in the blossoming night, Alec prepares himself for the duties and responsibilities that lie ahead of him.

On the other side of New York as the darkness creeps heavier, something more sinister begins to tear at the fabric that separates their realm from the rest.

---

A chime echoes through the halls of the Institute odd hours later, only a precursor to the dull bang as the wooden doors slam open to reveal a crowd of people in disarray. Alec, bent over a table in the main hall with the city’s layout and a small group of Shadowhunters, turns at the commotion brow raised and senses on alert.

“There’s a demon!” someone in the jumbled mess of bodies hurtling towards Alec proclaims.

“He’s strong - too strong,” another one says with a gasp.

Jace steps forward, hand on the hilt of his seraph blade, the other on his stele. Prepared for battle, ready for a fight. “Where?”

Three voices begin to clamor all at once in a disastrous explanation that prompts Alec to step forward and raise a calming hand in the air. The voices stop, and Jace turns to him with a question at the ready. “One at a time or we won’t get anywhere. You,” Alec points towards the least frantic Shadowhunter of the trio, “what happened?”

The man winces as he takes a step forward, favoring the right side of his body. Red stains his clothes; it paints his pale face and each of his limbs. It’s blood, Alec notes easily, dried and congealing in some spots no doubt from the cold autumn wind on the way back to the Institute, but some of the wounds still bleed fresh. His blond hair is matted to his face with sweat and ichor and his lips are caked with a mixture of all three, none of it enough to hide the burgeoning purple bruises that are blooming on his face. If the man’s body trembles, Alec says nothing of it.

“We were patrolling near Williamsburg,” the man begins, a slow nervous lilt to his voice. “There was an unusual spike in demon activity at dusk. We overheard residents saying it was a minor earthquake, but we didn’t believe that. We suspected it was related to the demons. And it was,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Alec and the room now filled with curious Shadowhunters. “There was a horde of them, Ravener demons. We thought it was just a basic attack, we didn’t know why they were there, but we prepared to get rid of them anyway. It was in the middle of our fight with the demons that someone else showed up-“

“Magnus Bane!” sputters the man in the middle, specks of red flying from his mouth and smattering the floor. “He’s back. He’s back and he’s here for revenge! That's what he told us!”

A gasp echoes in the silent halls of The Institute, followed by the low thrum of chatter as Shadowhunters begin to talk. To the side, Alec catches Isabelle’s gaze, stony and reserved in thought, but sparking with worry for the day’s sudden turn of events.

“Let’s get you guys cleaned up and healed,” Alec steps forward, stele in hand and iratze on his tongue.

“I-It doesn’t work,” the blond man whispers, shaking his head and peering up at Alec with furrowed brows. “We hid in the alleyways and tried to heal. Perhaps it’s the poison from the ichor, but I suspect it’s tied to the magic that Magnus Bane hit us with that makes our healing runes null.”

More chatter from the crowd of people, louder this time, and Alec nods once before turning to the person on his left. “Clary, see to it that they’re taken care of and bandaged properly. Triple check healing runes and make sure we get a full analysis report on all your findings.” It’s an order given with a tone Alec hopes conveys exactly what he’s thinking. He needs to know what’s causing the iratze’s to not work, he needs to know if it’s just a reaction to the ichor or something altogether more threatening. More than that, however, he needs discretion. Kept under wraps, with only Alec and trusted company to know the answers. With the way Clary keeps his firm gaze and offers a single, silent nod, Alec’s sure she understands.

“Everyone else,” Alec speaks, loud and commanding. “Back to your duties.”

The room pauses, wary and hesitant with the new information discovered and seeping into every conspiracy forming in the back of their minds. They want answers, they want clarity, they want knowledge that Alec doesn’t yet have. Resigned to knowing they won’t get any more than this, they file out slowly with soft whispers and bowed heads towards one another.

It’s only several seconds later when he notices the hesitation spread across the injured Shadowhunter’s faces, a look shared between the three of them. They’re brimming with the words they want to speak, information they’ve withheld, just barely. Only, they’re scared and Alec’s not sure if it’s a result of the situation they’ve just encountered, or the consequences they think they’ll have to face. Quietly, Alec steps towards them and grants a reassuring nod.

“Sir, Magnus Bane-” the Shadowhunter’s words catch in his throat. Alec hasn’t heard this name in years, not since training, and it already feels exhausted. “He didn’t let us leave with our lives for nothing. He gave us a warning.” There’s another pause, ominous in nature and the patience Alec composes himself with is waning thinner and thinner by the second.

“Go on,” Alec presses, voice carefully neutral.

“He wanted us to relay to you that this is a Downworlder affair, and for the Shadowhunters not to meddle unless they’re prepared to begin a war with Edom.”

The words come out in a single breath, rushed and trembling. He suspects it was infinitely more intimidating and terrifying than it sounds coming from three battered and bloodied Shadowhunters, but the message is clear: Don’t get involved.

“Thank you,” Alec finds himself saying, thoughts already trailing into a plan of action, mind already gearing for only two options. The first, to take an observer's role in this newfound issue of Downworld battles. The second, to raise alert to the Clave and begin to fortify the Institute for the foreseeable attack once involvement is inevitable. Or perhaps a third option is available, Alec speculates to himself.

Diplomacy.

There’s very little he knows of Magnus Bane, what scraps of information left of him are withheld in Clave documents. He’ll gather up what he can find, form a case to present to an angry, vengeful Greater Demon, and see if some sort of reasoning can be made.

With a sigh, Alec thumbs away the blooming headache from his temples and heads towards his office, doubt already sprouting up in the corners of his tenuous plans. Nothing is for certain, of course. Who’s to say Magnus Bane will be a reasonable man with the quivering display he left for Alec at the doors of the Institute. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s going to get to the bottom of what’s going on and take care of it personally, Greater Demon or not, New York is Alec’s city now.

---

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn for decades until his banishment to Edom at the beginning of the 1900’s, was frequently described as a hedonist. Reports on him vary from year to year. Some decades he remained under the radar, shielded from the eyes of the Clave. Others, he became notorious for begetting impish troubles between the classes. The only consistency found in any and all reports of the former High Warlock is the tendency towards extravagance and self-indulgence, with a craving for social gatherings.

Leaning back in his seat, Alec traces a finger along the case of his device and focuses on two words.

High Warlock.

He was obviously well-liked at some point in time, formidable enough to be deemed a worthy leader, and charismatic enough to be seen as an ambassador for other Warlocks. There must have been great strength at his hands, and greater support backing him to attain the level of priority that he gained.

So… what happened?

Power, clearly, and too much of it. The same Warlocks who hoisted him up petitioned to get him banished, cried his name in the streets of Brooklyn and swore his downfall.

And they made it happen.

Warlocks from all parts of New York flocked and rallied towards Brooklyn in hopes of seeing the demise of one Magnus Bane. Clave reports account for groups gathering outside of his apartment, banding together to peel away any protection shields cast up in defense. Among them, a leader: Lorenzo Rey.

The Clave watched from the shadows, vowed to not get involved in affairs they deemed less than worthy, but insisted on documenting it all. And Downworlders are the definition of unworthy in the Clave’s eyes.

There’s a nagging in the back of Alec’s mind, a wonder if anyone tried to help, tried to stop it. If there was another way.

But no, Downworlder affairs need not be meddled in, especially when Shadowhunters were never involved in the first place.

With a sigh, he sets down the reports and rubs at the bridge of his nose. What makes this situation any different? Magnus Bane threatened for Shadowhunters not to get involved. He sent a message back in the form of barely living soldiers who were just doing their duty, a message sent loud, but not so clear.

“Are you going to report this to the Clave?” Isabelle’s voice pierces through his thoughts, and Alec prides himself on only showing a fraction of surprise when he turns to face her.

“Of course I am, Izzy. It’s my duty.”

His sister peers down at him from her spot on the corner of his desk, eyes scrutinizing every emotion that flickers across his face. She doesn’t seem appeased with whatever she finds. “You can wait if you want, Alec. You can see what happens next. Try your plans first and go to the Clave later with your findings.”

Alec scoffs. “And have my position rescinded for failure to uphold the most basic understanding of status? The Clave will know everything I know, because that is what is right. They’ll know the best course of action, because they know Magnus Bane and what he’s capable of.”

Isabelle watches him for several long moments, trying to read for any hint of something to give away any of the thoughts running through Alec’s head. When she receives nothing, she nods and reaches for the handheld with the last report Alec was reading, and holds it in front of herself. She skims the words on the page, traces a slow finger from picture to picture, before settling on one that she sets down in front of Alec with a smile.

“You know, for a Greater Demon who’s here to enact his revenge on the Downworlders, he’s actually quite handsome.” Her lips pull into a smirk, and her eyes await a reaction, but Alec gives her none. He simply shrugs and locks the screen of the handheld. “He was, at least. Who knows what he looks like now after a hundred years in Edom.”

And honestly, the last thing Alec wants to focus on is the physical features of a Demon here to cause chaos. He doesn’t want to think about the picture of Magnus Bane in Clave documents, drink in hand and that perfectly tailored suit fitting his body, smiling at the photographer with his dark-rimmed eyes. It doesn’t matter what Magnus Bane looked like then, or even now. The only thing that matters now is the information he’s managed to scrounge up from every instance of this Demon’s name in Clave history, and how he can use that knowledge to his advantage.

Magnus Bane was cunning, sneaky, and smart in the early 1900’s. He was dangerous then, and Alec’s not going to believe that Edom did anything but magnify that danger after a century of letting his anger fester.

---

Moonlight spills through the windows, casts soft light along the path Alex takes as he makes his way, resigned, towards the infirmary.

The halls of the Institute are sparse with Shadowhunters now gathered in the training hall and library in hopes of strengthening themselves for whatever battle they foresee coming. It’s all for naught, Alec thinks to himself as he recounts the lackluster conversation that transpired between him and his parents just an hour ago, accompanied by Inquisitor Herondale.

“You’re to remain on the outside and cease any and all involvement in these Downworlder... squabbles.” Herondale’s voice had cut sharp and left no room for questions. Squabbles. That’s the extent that the Clave had watered this threat down to. A Greater Demon, capable of stripping away their ability to heal without the use of mundane technology. A Downworld squabble.

“Alec,” his mother’s stern voice had cut in, low and severe, “you need to make it absolutely clear to everyone that they are not to expose themselves to any fight that Magnus Bane chooses to partake in. Any patrolling Shadowhunters are there for one reason, and one reason only. To observe and record.”

Yes, to observe and record. To keep an account of what happened for Clave history. More ammunition for Shadowhunters to keep themselves separated from Downworlders, and information to add to the files of warlocks the Clave already suspects are dangerous. Fuel to the fire, all wrapped up in the innocent guise of history.

It doesn’t sit well with Alec, being a bystander to the havoc a furious Greater Demon might cause. The Clave won’t step in, they won’t be a helping hand in all of this, and Alec hates to sit on the sidelines of what could possibly be the worst decision in the history of the Accords.

But the Clave has the final say on any Shadowhunter involvement in Downworld affairs. The Clave is every bit as responsible as Alec for whatever presides in Brooklyn in the coming days. The Clave doesn’t want to stop Magnus Bane, so why should Alec?

Alec’s fingers wrap around the cool metal of the door handle when he remembers his mother’s face, the expression she wore so unabashedly in front of him. Disappointment so thinly veiled underneath all of that carefully crafted apathy. Disappointment for the way Alec offered his solutions to Inquisitor Herondale? Disappointment in the way Alec questioned the motives of the Clave for hiding in the background when they could find an alternative to be part of the solution? Disappointment in Alec, for becoming Head of the Institute, clearly unprepared and unwelcome by even his own mother?

The smile that graced his mother’s features when he first saw her had been enough for the newly awakened pride inside of him, seeking the tiniest shred of affirmation from his harshest critic. How short-lived it was. How quickly had that pride deflated into embarrassment when he began to speak of the attack from Magnus Bane and his mother’s eye shrouded themselves in disapproval.

Perhaps he could have done something differently today. He could have proceeded with a different plan of action that would have appeased Herondale’s thirst for non-consequential knowledge, if he had only known. But now he does, and though redemption is not far off, it’s going to be an uphill battle.

He’ll do better.

With a steadying breath, Alec pushes open the wooden doors to the infirmary and steps in.

There’s the distinct sterile scent of Iodine, and far more lines of IV that are hooked up than Alec is used to seeing. They’re a back up, mostly, for when an iratze isn’t enough, or the wounds are too infected with ichor to properly heal, but even then…

The click-clack of heels on tile brings his focus to the lithe redhead who steps towards him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“It’s not the ichor,” Clary begins, wasting no time. She’s worked with Alec long enough to know he doesn’t think highly of beating around the bush or dawdling. “I was able to analyze the blood samples enough that I could detect a magical signature on all of them. Bane, of course, but it seems that the magic is keeping the wounds from healing. They’re not re-opening, so to speak, but they aren’t clotting and the stitches I’ve made don’t seem to be helping the process either. They just,” Clary inhales a deep sigh, and expels a shaky breath. “They just bleed. Not enough to drain them completely, but enough to cause substantial blood loss. With how much they’ve already lost and how much more they’re going to lose, they’re going to need several transfusions just to stay alive.”

Alec turns to face one of the Shadowhunters laying on the cold, white bed. There are bandages around his arms, patches of gauze scattered across his body and face and butterfly bandages to keep small wounds closed. But for every bandage, for every strip of white, there’s red that blots it. Small beads of blood that pool at each line of cuts until they brim over and cascade in a slow and steady spill of red that stains the sheets beneath.

Three Shadowhunters in critical care, while not a huge blow, only paves the way for bigger hits in the future if Alec chooses to stand in the way of Magnus Bane. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, to bet it all on the unknown, to subject the very same people who put him in this position to the torturous death sentence of blood loss.

“What are we going to do, Alec?”

Clary’s voice is soft when she speaks, uncertainty replacing the confidence and assertion he’s so used to hearing. Yes, three Shadowhunters isn’t a big loss, but it’s an omen chilling enough that he doesn’t want to cause panic and worry within the Institute.

“We stay quiet about this. If anyone asks, the ichor and magic is causing a unique reaction that you’re working on a remedy for. They’ll be fine.”

They’ll be fine.

Even to himself, Alec sounds scared.

“Maybe we need to find Magnus Bane, we could talk to him and ask - “

“Ask what?” Alec snaps his attention towards Clary, who frowns up at him.

With a calculated pause, she surveys the room’s occupants. “We can ask him what he’s here for, what he’s trying to gain from this.”

“He wants whoever sealed him away in Edom to pay.”

Clary’s brows crinkle together, and her eyes focus as she undoubtedly tries to recollect any information on Magnus Bane she’s heard of over the years. There’s not much to remember, not much spoken through word of mouth besides cautionary tales and warnings on why Downworlders must always be watched. The real meat of the situation is hidden in the files of cases over the years. Cases that litter Alec’s desk, pages of text that have been ingrained into his mind.

“Maybe we could help him,” She offers, timidly.

“Help him?”

“I know it sounds crazy, us helping a Greater Demon,” Clary begins. “We work on keeping the Downworld in order so to speak, right? We make sure that danger doesn't seep through into mundane territory, and so far it is. We can seek out Magnus Bane, see why he’s after these people, who they are, and what he’s trying to achieve. Maybe… Maybe helping him will bring more peace than leaving him to his own devices.”

Clary’s not wrong, at least to Alec she isn’t. It’s the better option, to help Magnus Bane with whatever mission he’s steering towards so he can be done with it. Get him out of the way before it becomes a bigger issue with the Clave.

But the Clave.

“The Inquisitor doesn’t want that,” Alec explains tersely.

Clary rolls her eyes and wears a common expression of distaste so many around him always do when the Clave is involved. “They aren’t here, Alec. The Clave only cares about the Law, with no regard to how it actually applies to all of our lives in the Institute. You’re our leader now. I understand you report back to the Clave, but they don’t have to know. At least not yet.”

It’s a temptation Alec won’t entertain for longer than a brief second. Going against the Clave is not an option. They’ve been given orders, and he’ll make sure they follow them.

“We will not go-“

Alec’s words are interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of his phone that he answers immediately.

“Isabelle?”

“Alec,” There’s a loud crash that crackles through the receiver of the phone that instantly sets him on high alert. “Alec, he’s here. Magnus Bane, he’s come to Hotel DuMort with an army of demons. You need to come!”

“Hotel DuMort? What are you even doing there, Isabelle? You were told to stay out of this, you shouldn’t be anywhere near other Downworlders with Magnus Bane around!”

“Jace and I came to -“

There’s silence as the phone loses connection, and Alec can’t help the involuntary reaction of slamming his empty fist into one of the unoccupied beds of the infirmary. “Fuck,” he spits out, before shoving the phone into his pocket and making his way towards the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Clary shouts as she rushes to his side.

“You will stay here and stick to the plan, Morgenstern,” Alec grits through his teeth.

“There is no plan, Alec! I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, giving people false hope when I can go with you and help.”

A moment of silence. A moment where Alec feels the heavy thud of his heartbeat in the palms of his hand where his fists are balled so tightly, before he exits the infirmary in quiet anger with Clary trailing behind him.

---

There are screeches and screams that surround the Hotel DuMort as Alec and Clary gather closer. To mundanes, only quiet calm and the sounds of cars honking with idle engines fill the late night streets, but behind the screen of blissful oblivion lies something much darker, something far more inauspicious.

Sparks of red shoot from one of the top floor windows, and Alec and Clary dodge the shards of glass that sprinkle down on them as they search for an entrance. Magic enchants the walls and tingles against Alec’s hand as he pushes through one of the side entrances not blocked off with deadbolts and hanging locks. It would be almost too easy for any mundane to just waltz in, and he’s sure under different circumstances this would be a red-flag for Hotel DuMort’s compliance with the Accords to be taken into question.

The room inside is dark and empty at first glance, but a gasp from Clary and the tip of his boots hitting something raised against the floor shows him that they’re not alone.

A handful of lifeless bodies litter the floor in front of them, surrounded by darkness and sparks of electricity from the light sources that have been shot out and electrical wires exposed. Vampires. Demons. Nothing left alive.

It makes the fear of Jace and his sister being one of these figures all the more real, and he finds the weight of his feet carrying him faster towards the staircase door. Logically, he knows that’s not the case. He’d feel it through their bond if something happened to his parabatai, and he knows that Jace would throw himself into the line of fire first before he let anything happen to Isabelle. With Clary hot on his trail they race up the stairs, stamina and speed rune lighting up and fading quickly with the wave of their steles. It’s only a few quick minutes before they’re paused at the door to the 7th floor, only stopped by the body of a dead vampire blocking the entrance from the other side. With a grunt and a shove, Alec pushes the door open and they step through into a fight that’s already begun.

The sight of vampires greet them; teeth bared, claws sharp and blades in hand fighting off the demons that surround them, ash covering the floor they fight ont. Clary whispers his name, but he doesn’t turn to her, focused critically on the threats in front of them. Alec takes one step forward, close enough to the nearest vampire that he can almost get a word in, before he’s swiped at suddenly by a Ravener demon.

He dodges the first attack with several hurried paces back and reaches for an arrow from his quiver, before the demon fizzles out before his eyes. The final blow in question is dealt by Clary, who heaves a breath and grins at Alec as she pulls her seraph blade back from the fading particles of the dying demon. It’s one miniscule victory short-lived, however, because in its place pour in three more from the broken windows that line the walls. Alec nocks an arrow into his bow quickly and chances a glance towards Clary out of the corner of his eye, who curls her lips back in a grimace and readies for a fight.

Together, they take them out. One after another, an onslaught of demons rush and growl and shriek in attack. None of them get close enough to injure, though all of them try, and it’s not until the remaining few pull back and crawl through the windows that Alec realizes they’re not retreating for the sake of defeat.

“Upstairs,” Alec breathes, ragged. “Isabelle and Jace must be upstairs.”

“The demons are no-doubt being called back by Magnus Bane. We need to get up there.”

A hiss from the side catches their attention, a wounded vampire covered in blood and ichor. “Going up there is a death sentence. Your other Shadowhunters were already doomed before they’d even reach the top floor..”

There’s only a brief look of worry shared between them, before Clary and Alec are racing up the next staircase in search of Isabelle and Jace. Jace isn’t dead, he knows for a fact, but the possibility of Isabelle being injured fuels him up the next flights of stairs that tug at his parabatai bond. They’re close, he can feel Jace and the feelings being pushed through the bond right now. Confusion, anger, worry… Fear.

Fear of Magnus Bane?

They’re close, so close now, and Alec knows he’ll finally get answers to all of the questions and worries pouring through their minds as he and Clary push through that final door that leads them to the top floor of Hotel DuMort.

Relief overcomes him, spreads warmth through his body as he sees the golden blond of Jace’s hair, and his sister right beside him across the room. But it’s replaced, almost immediately, when he spots the scene that surrounds them.

In the middle of the room are two figures, Camille Belcourt who Alec knows to be the leader of the Brooklyn Vampire Clan, and someone he can only presume to be Magnus Bane.The pair of them ensconced in a circle of high red flames that prevent anyone from leaving or entering. There’s a conversation happening inside of it, screaming and yelling from Camille that Alec can’t hear through the roar and heat of fire, and wild gestures from Magnus Bane, whose back is turned to he and Clary.

Scattered around the room are clusters of vampires fighting off the unending horde of demons, unsuccessful in their endeavors. Jace and Isabelle are with them, the crack of his sister’s whip snapping louder than the crackling of fire that licks at Alec as he steps nearer. There’s no way around the fire, no way for them to get any closer even as he and Clary fight their way through the demons rushing towards them.

So they fight, continuously with only precious seconds in between each attack for them to catch their breath and gather their strength, but Alec doesn’t tire as the ichor mingles with the sweat soaking his clothes and coating his skin. He won’t give up until he finds a way to Isabelle and Jace, and he’ll die trying if he has to.

Another demon jumps at him, and this one catches Alec at an angle that his arrow can’t quite reach in time. The knowledge of being cut hits first, followed shortly after by the pain in his shoulder. It stings and burns, not from the fire, but from the magic laced and infused deeply within the demons themselves.

It’s a minor inconvenience, he tells himself as he reaches for the seraph blade holstered to his thigh and jabs it into the back of the demon as he dodges a second attack. It hurts, but it’s nothing he can’t stand, nothing an iratze won’t heal.

It’s a lie he knows to be true. He can feel the magic tingling against his skin where the blood begins to seep from the shallow wound. He’ll be fine for now, at least long enough to get them out of the building and back into the safety of the Institute.

A grunt beside him brings him back into the fight and he turns to see Clary swing her weapon into the skull of the demon closest to her, while kicking another into the fire beside her that consumes the demon with a sizzling crack. It’s almost more effective to use the fire to their advantage, Alec realizes as he and Clary share a knowing look. They change tactics quickly, rushing towards the demons from the outskirts of the room, boots thudding heavily against the hardened exoskeleton of the demons as they rush towards them. The vampires nearby take note, exhausted and battered far more than the two of them, and begin to follow suit.

It’s not long before the flocks of demons that pour into the room fade into a more sparse area of coverage and everyone involved in the small battle can take longer than a moment's breath.

Whispers and speculation fill the silence when only a few demons are left remaining, being fought off by courageous vampires with a sudden need to direct their adrenaline. In the middle of the room the fire howls fiercer, brighter and hotter as Camille and Magnus continue to occupy the center, closer than ever to each other.

There’s discourse, still an argument being had if the curl of the Magnus’ fist and Camille’s bared teeth are anything to go off of. It’s still too loud to hear the topic at hand, something unsettling and stormy brewing between the two, but then suddenly something shifts in Camille’s incensed demeanor.

It’s as if a switch has flipped, as if the anger has evaporated with the heat of the flames, and left in its place a barrage of tears that trickle down her face. She’s frustrated, Alec can see it in the square of her shoulders, but she’s given up the fight to Magnus. Part of him knows it’s not his place to care about the outcome of the events that are unfolding before them, that he has other more pressing matters at hand, such as getting to Jace and Isabelle. But the flames don’t give an inch of slack, and the path to them is blocked almost entirely by dead bodies and debris.

A pale hand reaches up, contrasting shockingly to the deep tan of Magnus’ cheek where it rests, color that Alec can see isn’t just the result of the shadows from the fire. From Alec’s spot behind Magnus, he can’t see the expression he wears or the effect this gesture has on him. What he can see, though, is the tense of his back through the black blazer that fits his body, and the way he straightens out the length of himself when presented with the vulnerability of Camille.

And Camille, for all her false innocence and shrewd manner over the years, seems genuine for once.

With rapt attention, Alec watches every step closer she takes.He can feel rather than hear the staccato click of her heels along the marble floor for every inch of distance she closes. He should look away, he thinks in a moment of polite weakness.

But, no.

This is a deliberate display, a show the two of them are putting on for any Downworlder, Shadowhunter, or Mundane who will watch. And so he does.

He watches, enraptured, as Camille raises herself onto the balls of her feet, black stilettos lifting and pale arms encircling the strong shoulders of the Greater Demon before her. He watches still, as the bright red lipstick that stains her lips also colors Magnus’ cheek and smears against their skin when she ducks her head into the junction of his neck. It’s almost too intimate for him to continue watching, the moment surely too much for them to all be allowed to partake in. It feels sinful, in a way. Alec almost averts his eyes, guiltily casting his gaze downward, when he catches Magnus’ hand reflecting back to him the brightest flames through the rings that adorn the fingers curling into the dark long locks of Camille’s hair.

Most importantly, in his bashfully thorough scrutiny of the scene before him, he watches Magnus’ other hand, unnoticed and dim in the shadows of their two bodies. A hand that ignites a soft blue nearly unseen through the fire, magic that produces a wooden stake to spear straight into the unsuspecting heart laid out before him.

A gasp, a lungful of staggered breathing fills Camille as she cries out in the same silent shock Alec feels vibrating through him. Her body, lithe and slender and her deep burgundy dress darken with color as she twitches and fades before them into slow settling ash on the floor, graceful and beautiful in ways that only the leader of the New York vampire clan could manage. But Alec pays her no mind as her memory slips lower beneath the line of his vision, all the while his eyes remain steadfast on the Demon before him. On Magnus Bane.

The fire lets up minutes later, and the surviving vampires rush towards Camille with their inhuman speed, crying and bemoaning the loss of their leader with wails that echo in the silence now befalling the room. There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach, a pull that he recognizes clearly as his parabatai bond. He should follow it to Jace, to Isabelle and undoubtedly Clary who is likely already with them. He knows, logically, what he should do now. He knows what’s expected of him, and he knows what’s right. And yet…

Now that he knows for certain his siblings are safe, there are more important matters at hand. Like the fact that Magnus Bane now stands in front of him, piercing Alec with golden eyes and the hardened exterior of a Greater Demon who shows no remorse for having just killed someone.

Time seems to move slowly as Magnus lifts a hand and summons a portal, an endless swirl of darkness that will release him from the destruction he’s leaving behind, that will take him further from the answers Alec seeks. Magnus turns then, takes one step into the void and the flow of time accelerates so quickly that in that instant Alec doesn’t realize he’s stepping through the portal with him until the roar of magic deafens him to the sounds of his sister’s call.

#shmb2021 #shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfiction #Magnus x Alec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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cosmic-hearts · 4 years

Text

castles in the air | lee donghyuck | three

lee donghyuck x female reader

genre; enemies-to-lovers, friendship, romance, fluff, angst

warnings; none

foreword; in which you might be a real-life princess with a prince promised to you right from the start, but you won’t be getting your happy ever after.

<< previous chapter | next chapter >>

Over the next couple of dates, it’s like a switch has been flicked in your relationship with Donghyuck. You could finally say with confidence that he’s a friend, and you’re grateful for this time with him; it feels like you’re both catching up on all the lost years.

Sure, he made fun of you constantly for that obnoxious heart-shaped Prada Odette Heart Bag you always carried around with you for casual dates, and for wearing Dior sneakers on the rare days you weren’t in heels. God, that bag looks like it’s for a twelve-year old. And who the hell wears Dior sneakers? I didn’t even know freaking Dior sold sneakers. You tried explaining to him that it was an AF1xDior collaboration special but that didn’t soften his judgement in any way, so you settled for calling him an uncultured jerk. And there was the time he got gravy on your prized pink bag and you nearly stabbed him with your butter knife.

But there were sweeter times too. When he was feeling generous and perhaps more than a little sentimental, he sang you songs as you two sat on the hood of his car, soaking up the moonlight. These days were rare and therefore exceedingly precious, and though you’d never tell him, you cherished them deeply. His voice whisked you away from this sublunary world, to a place filled with the breath of angels and flights of fancy, a place where you could build castles in the air and wonder what it would be like if what you had with Donghyuck was real.

You love every second with him.

That said, you’re already regretting your decision to go with Donghyuck to his senior high prom. Even your coveted Sadek Majed Summer Spring Couture gown (literally woven with all the blessings of spring) isn’t enough to keep anxiety from clawing its way through the perfectly fitted waistline. It might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never actually been to a prom before.

It doesn’t get any better when you step into his school and all eyes are on you. Perhaps it’s your gown; you had a feeling you’d overdone it this time. You knew it from the moment you got into Donghyuck’s car and his jaw literally dropped. When you asked him what was wrong, he looked away, cleared his throat and gripped the steering wheel unnecessarily hard without bothering to reply. You knew maybe you’d taken it a little too far, but you didn’t think you looked that bad.

Donghyuck brings you to the auditorium, then promptly abandons you in search of Jaemin. You’d expected as much—Lee Donghyuck may have the voice of an angel, but he most certainly isn’t one.

You sip your glass of punch, and when you set it down you see someone’s come to sit opposite you.

“Hi,” she says, eyes curving into crescents, “I think we’ve met before.”

You take a good look at the girl; she’s dressed in a baby blue rafaela dress, obsidian locks tumbling across her shoulders, a sharp contrast to her alabaster complexion.

“Oh, that’s right,” you say, eyes widening in recognition, “Sohui, right? Donghyuck’s girlfriend?”

“Yup,” she says, “I just wanted to say thank you for that day. When you spoke up for me… I really appreciated it.”

You smile. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Sohui scoots over to sit next to you. “I absolutely love your dress. It’s so pretty.”

“Thanks. I really like yours too.”

Silence ensues for a moment, then she says, “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?” “It’s about Donghyuck.”

Your grip on your glass tightens just the slightest. Of course it would be about Donghyuck.

“I just wanted to ask, when will this whole fake dating thing end? I know I might seem like a really jealous girlfriend right now, but… I’m actually asking for Donghyuck.”

For Donghyuck? “I’m not sure,” you reply truthfully, “but I can try to speed things up. I’m sorry about having to hog him like this; I know it’s not easy for you both.”

Her perfect face almost melts with relief. “Thank you,” she says, “that would be great. Donghyuck’s just been really stressed lately and I’m worried about him.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why has he been stressed? Did he say something?”

Sohui sighs, her shoulders falling into a slump. “I’m not sure if I should tell you this.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Okay then. I don’t know how to put this any other way, but… it might be because of you.”

And then she tells you. She finally tells you the reason why Donghyuck had spent the majority of his life hating you.

Your expression never once falters, not even a bit. Not even when Donghyuck returns and you witness his face light up at the sight of his real girlfriend.

You will not falter.

—

“Hey,” Donghyuck says, his voice filling the silence that had been permeating the car all the way back. “You’re being unusually quiet today.”

You fiddle with the embroidered flowers sewn into your dress, iridescent in the shaft of moonlight streaming through the car window. Tonight, even the beautiful artistry of fashion fails to make you smile.

“I’m just tired.”

Donghyuck laughs. “I didn’t ever think you could run out of energy at events like these. You always looked so perfectly put together at every single social function. Unlike me. God, I always found it all so tiring. I could never understand how you did it.”

You didn’t know me, you bite back the urge to say, just like how I still don’t know you.

It seems like years pass before he reaches your house, and for once, you can’t wait to bolt out of the car, to run as far away from him as possible.

“By the way, I wanted to tell you something.”

You respond with a questioning glance. Donghyuck’s gaze darts away from you and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“When I first saw you just now… I didn’t think you looked bad at all. Really.”

Your heart stills for a moment.

“I thought you looked... really pretty. I mean, you still look… really pretty, of course.”

You give him a polite smile, say thank you and goodnight, step out of the car and walk away until you hear the sound of the engine revving.

It is then that you finally fall apart.

“His hatred for you… it’s because he feels that you’re tying him down. Holding him back from all the things he wants to achieve. He told me that he hated you because he was made to marry you from the start and he viewed this marriage as a prison. He feels that you’re taking his freedom away from him.”

Your head spins.

“So you can probably see… having to spend all this time with you… it’s taking a toll on him. I think for his sake, you should end it soon.”

You let out a bitter chuckle at your own hypocrisy—you wanted to help him reach for the stars, but you’re the one who’s chaining him to the ground.

Your house stands before you like a castle gleaming in the starlight. You sigh, a soft sound that escapes immediately into the darkness.

All this time, you were merely building castles in the air. How naive of you to believe that what you and Donghyuck had could ever be real.

But you’re strong and you don’t need anyone, you tell yourself. You close your eyes, imagining the moonlight washing away the pain, the starlight making you new and whole again. You’ll be ready to make things right; it’s the least you can do for Donghyuck.

And you? You’ll be okay. You always are.

—

“Darling, you look absolutely fabulous.”

You won’t demur or say otherwise, not when you actually do think you look ready to rule the goddamn universe tonight.

You decided on a dress from POEM Couture’s autumn-winter collection, and you really do think you look like a dream, ethereal almost. Your hair is put up in a low tendril twist bun with curled wisps escaping from the knot, framing the sides of your face.

You’re about to head downstairs to check in on the decorations when your phone screen lights up with a message.

From: hyuck

happy birthday, see u later ;) mayhaps i got u a present

Jaw tightening, you put your phone facedown on your desk.

Don’t ruin your makeup, you say sternly to yourself, swallowing harshly to get rid of the sudden thickness in your throat.

You just need to get through this night and everything will be okay again.

—

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for being here to celebrate my daughter’s 18th birthday with us today.”

Donghyuck looks out at the sea of people in stiff suits and designer dresses, and pulls uncomfortably at his necktie. How many of these people do you actually know, he wonders? They’re probably your parents’ colleagues, friends, rivals, people they wanted to show you off to. They’re milling about at your birthday celebration, making polite, small talk and pretending like they actually want to be here.

“Y/N has always been the most perfect child,” your mother coos into the mic, “and we’re so lucky to have her as our daughter. Today is a very special day; our daughter has grown up into a beautiful young lady, with a beautiful mind of her own. And I’m so happy that she has finally found the one for her to blossom through her eighteenth year with.” She sends a wink in Donghyuck’s direction, and he offers back a weak smile while his own parents look proudly on.

He wonders where you are, and why you haven’t replied to his text. Then again, he imagines that you must be absolutely swamped with preparations for today. He makes a mental note to go find you later so he can pass you your present in private.

“All right, I won’t delay this anymore. After all, this is my daughter’s night, not mine. Everyone, I present to you, Y/N!”

Like magic, you appear from the shadows of the upper wing and all goes quiet.

Donghyuck’s eyes widen.

He doesn’t know much about fashion, but it doesn’t take much to realize that you’re dressed to kill tonight. The midnight purple bodice of your gown fades out into a lush pink in a glorious ombre, like twilight melding with a rosy sunrise. Your hair is delicately tied in a low bun, curly wisps gently kissing the sides of your face. Under the luminous light of the chandelier above, your skin is aglow with radiance, eyes aflame with a sparkle that takes his breath away.

As you descend the grand staircase, a hand on the gold rail, a regal aura is composed around you and time seems to stop. Donghyuck swears he can hear several sharp intakes of breath.

You look just like a princess.

You look like you have the blood of a royal running through your veins. If Donghyuck has the ability to command and captivate with his voice, you too have that same ability, but with your mere presence.

“Oh, my darling daughter,” your mother gushes, arms extended towards you. She raises a hand towards Donghyuck, signalling him to come over.

“I’m so glad you two are finally together. I mean, we knew it would happen all along, but now that it’s finalized, I can rest assured,” she announces, and Donghyuck finds that he can scarcely lift his eyes to meet yours; you’re simply too dazzling.

The crowd erupts into applause, and at first it is low, quiet him, but it soon morphs into a collective cheer, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You cast a despairing glance at your mother, trying to convey to her the sheer impropriety of such a notion, but she merely winks at you and whispers, “Don’t worry, we’re not all that old-fashioned.”

Unconsciously, you grab a fistful of your dress as your heart begins to race. You simply cannot kiss Donghyuck, that would literally be the end of you. Donghyuck would hate it with every fibre of his being, and you don’t want to force him into doing this; he would hate you even more than he already does. You absolutely cannot bear the thought of tasting the disgust on his lips—

A warm hand closes around yours, the one that’s nervously clutching onto the folds of your dress. Your fist uncurls and your relaxes as Donghyuck threads his fingers through yours, his grip firm but gentle. He places his other hand on your cheek and whispers so softly that you know it is meant for your ears alone,

“Can I kiss you?”

You look up into his eyes, expecting to find reluctance and discomfort, but instead, his eyes are burning with a sort of—you wouldn’t call it desire, not exactly, but more of determination to see this moment through, because he too knows that there’s no way out of this.

So you let your eyelids flutter shut to indicate your assent; you might as well get this done and over with, it’s all meaningless anyway and Donghyuck knows it too.

But the moment his lips meet yours, a shower of sparks explodes in your chest and you can feel your heart sing. Your grip on his hand tightens as you attempt to hold him close and you will this moment to last forever so that you can memorize the sweet taste of his lips on yours, the heat of his hand against your cheek, handling you with such gentleness and care you almost believe this charade you’re both playing is real. He presses his lips against yours just a little deeper, draws you closer to him ever so slightly, thumb stroking your flushed cheek, and a shiver of electricity jolts through your veins, sending a chill down your spine—maybe the castles you’d been building in the air can be real after all.

But this isn’t a fairytale, and your happy ever after won’t come by so easily.

Donghyuck’s lips leave yours. As quickly as it had begun, it was over, and the castles crumble right before you. You can’t hear the whoops and cheers arising from all around—in that moment, all you are aware of is Lee Donghyuck, gazing down at you with the darkness of midnight in his eyes and stardust streaked across his face.

You’re suddenly transported back to a cramped, dimly-lit closet, where a boy huddled so close to you you could feel his breath on the shell of your ear and see the beauty spots that speckled his skin. Like stardust.

“... if I kiss you, you might just fall in love with me. Can’t risk that now, can we?”

How right he is. You almost let out a sardonic laugh right then and there.

You’re royally screwed, and all it took was a single kiss.

—

You gaze out at the cityscape below you, breathing in the cool night air on the balcony and watching the twinkling nightlife of the rest of the world. You hope the chilly winds will cool the warmth in your cheeks and restore your former composure, so you won’t look like you’ve just been wrecked apart with the mere sensation of Donghyuck’s lips on yours.

That would be too humiliating.

You’re about to turn around and go back to the party, back to where you should be, when you feel a soft tug on your bun. Your hair escapes free from its tight hold and falls down your back, a long and lustrous stream illuminated by moonlight.

You turn to the side and see Donghyuck, eyes gleaming with mischief. The familiarity of this action makes your heart swell; it’s like he’s reminding you of the memories he made with you. It’s like he’s deliberately making this so damn difficult for you.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten that you haven’t returned me my Scrunchie,” you say, and Donghyuck lets out a loud guffaw.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back soon.”

Then his gaze suddenly drops away from yours, towards the floor. He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks blazing. “About just now—,”

“Thank you for that. I really appreciated it, and I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“N-No,” Donghyuck says, a little too quickly, “it was fine for me.. Really. I was actually wondering if you were okay with it.”

Oh, he had no idea.

“We did what we had to do, and that’s all that matters,” you reply, turning away from him to face the night.

You two stand in silence for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as you gather up the courage let Donghyuck go.

Now.

“Y/N,” Donghyuck starts, right at the exact moment you say, “I think it’s time.”

Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, eyes focused on you. “You go first.”

You take a deep breath and plough forth. No turning back now. “I think it’s time to stop this. Tomorrow I’ll tell my parents that I want to cancel the engagement.”

Donghyuck freezes, eyes wide, and for a moment you think you saw a glimpse of hurt flash across his eyes. But you must be deluding yourself.

“Why?”

You raise an eyebrow in feigned incredulity. “What do you mean why? We were supposed to end all of this after we tried it out for a while, just to show our parents that we were putting in the effort. I’ll let them know tomorrow that I want to break up with you. I think we’ve fake dated for long enough and it should be enough to convince our parents. It’s time we both moved on, don’t you think?” you say, doing your best to keep your tone light while twirling a lock of hair around your finger and hoping you were a picture-perfect portrait of absolute indifference. And not a shaking mess.

Donghyuck’s eyes are glassy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he looked crushed.

“I just have one question,” he says, eyes boring into you, “well, two, actually.”

You lift your chin to meet his gaze, a defiant shine in your eyes and a coy smile on your lips. “Go ahead.”

“Did you feel anything when we kissed?”

It is your turn to freeze. Why would he ask this? And how can you possibly tell him that when he kissed you it was like a thousand angels were singing in unison, and you felt your heart soaring to places it had never been before? That if you could, you would grab his collar, pull him towards you and claim his lips just once more—

“Are you drunk right now, Lee Donghyuck? That’s literally the craziest thing to ask. Of course I didn’t.”

His eyes harden. “Great. Just… one more question then.”

You cross your arms over your chest because your hands are shaking visibly and you’re unable to stop them.

“Is this what you really want?”

Again, you’re assaulted by a wave of deja-vu—the same cold, starlit night on a different balcony, where he’d asked you the same question in all earnestness. Previously you weren’t sure if he really cared what you wanted, but now that you know he truly cares, it makes it all the more painful.

“I don’t want a model answer, Y/N. I’m asking you what you really want.”

You bite down hard on your lip, suppressing the wildness in you that screams no.

“Again, that’s a stupid question. Of course it’s what I want. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s what we both want, isn’t it? You wanted so much to break our marriage contract because you hate me. That’s why we’re doing all this in the first place.”

A film descends over his eyes at that moment and your heart breaks.

“You’re right,” he says after what seems like an eternity, voice barely above a whisper, “we should have ended this long ago. I’m sorry. For wasting your time.”

Your heart breaks at his words, even though you’d seen them coming from a mile away and you really don’t have the right to expect anything else. Your heart breaks at the way he’s already slipping away from you.

Even though he was never yours to begin with.

He steps closer to you and takes your wrist. You feel a prickle of electricity course through your bones, but he merely hands you a large shopping bag.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he says, with a smile that appears forced and yet genuine all at once. Like he really wants to smile at you but he can’t bring himself to.

And with that, he turns and leaves. You grip tightly onto the bag, fingernails digging into the skin of your palm as his silhouette fades back into the glow of the ballroom.

You don’t even have it in you to cry, to regret, to yell for him to come back.

Because the moment he left a gaping hole tore through you and now you are just too filled up with empty to feel anything.

—

Hey Y/N,

Happy birthday! I can’t believe it’s been so long since we started hanging out. Honestly, I’d long forgotten about our contract, and now that I think about it, it’s actually so stupid—how did we even come up with that bullshit? Then again, I guess I’m glad we did, because it gave us the opportunity to hang out and without it, I would never have known what a great person you are.

Here’s your Scrunchie (did you really think I wouldn’t give it back lol) and your birthday present, because I’m sorry I got gravy on your ugly ass Prada bag. Don’t worry, this one’s also from Prada, and I think it’s SO much nicer—my mum helped me get it custom made. I personally chose all the colors and the design, and it has your name inscribed inside so you’d better not lose it. Don’t you dare get gravy on this one or else I’ll literally come for your ass.

All right, now that that’s out of the way, it’s confession time. You’re right, I did hate you before (and it’s not because I hate pink, I swear), but I realized that it wasn’t personal. I just hated having to marry you, not because of you, but I just didn’t want to be in an arranged marriage. I thought that would take all my freedom away and I really didn’t want that. I’m sorry for hating you so much—that was just plain stupid of me.

But in a funny way, even though I saw you as killing my freedom, you were the one who gave it back to me—you were the one who rekindled my love for singing at a time when everyone around me was telling me I should give it up. I can’t believe you still remembered that I sing, by the way. I didn’t even know that you knew, so that was pretty cool of you. So yeah, I just wanted to say thank you for that, you have no idea how much it meant to me. How important it was to me. If you look inside the Prada bag you’ll find a USB drive. I’d actually been working on a song for you for a couple months just to say thank you. It’s called “Beautiful Time”, and I really hope you’ll like it.

I hope that whatever happens next, we’ll always be friends, because you’re seriously one of the coolest and strongest people I know. Sometimes I wish I had your strength; I don’t know if you know this, but you’re so strong it makes me jealous sometimes. It’s crazy how we’re the same age but you’re just so much more mature and stronger. You’re just… so amazing sometimes.

All right, before I puke writing this, let’s just end it here. Here’s to many more memories and great times, have a great birthday Y/N <3

Love, Donghyuck

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Text

thoughts on BNA ships that no one asked for

Spoilers and mentions of sexual abuse below.

These are my own opinions so please don’t roast me!

NAZUNA X MICHIRU

Essentially a childhood crush that could blossom into something more.

Michiru probably had a childhood crush on Nazuna. An obvious, big ol’ crush that Nazuna most likely knew about, never acted upon, and used in the later episodes to manipulate Michiru.

Michiru says later in the series that her feelings are still the same for her (???). What is the heterosexual explanation for this? (The right answer is none.) While Michiru appears to eventually realize what Nazuna has become and let go of her beloved memories of her friend later, the damage of Nazuna’s manipulation has already been done.

If they get together before Nazuna resolves her manipulative nature, I’d probably expect a toxic relationship rife with lies and gaslighting. As a victum of abuse and manipulation herself (see: implied sexual abuse at the hands of Boris), it will probably take a long, LONG time before Nazuna is unable to learn that and release her conscience from the aftereffects of her traumatic experiences.

Michiru would probably aid Nazuna via the following: therapy, holding her accountable for her past and present actions, support, and most importantly, patience and time for her to heal. Nazuna has probbaly been through traumatic experiences that the innocent, headstrong Michiru wouldn’t be able to fathom.

Truly, I believe a romantic relationship would come to fruition years after the end of the series (both in their early twenties, maybe). Unrequited feelings on Michiru’s side and Nazuna’s realization of the change in her own feelings towards her childhood friend.

SHIROU X MICHIRU

Unrequited feelings that may or may not be requited some years later.

Living for a thousand years hasn’t done any justice for Shirou in the way of emotional intelligence (or even handling / recognizing his emotions). Where Michiru is an open book and very in tune to what she wants, Shirou is completely repressed.

As evidenced in the series, Shirou eventually grows to become accustomed to Michiru’s presence in both his professional and personal life. Enough that he could consider her a friend, even though he would never admit it out loud. The power of Michiru’s presence and her effects on people are quite prevalent, and I would imagine her being appointed as a social worker alongside Shirou.

This is probably just me, but I took Shirou’s confrontation of Michiru’s pleasure flight with Pingua to be a slight sign of jealousy. Of course there was the aspect of Pingua being a possible terrorist, but still ...

That said, he would likely grow to even depend on Michiru and would do anything and everything to atone for what he did while affected by Nirvasyl Syndrome. Michiru would likely help him with his survivor’s guilt and trauma of the past, while Shirou would continue to help her work through her prejudices regarding the beastmen.

I believe that a romantic relationship would organically surface years after the end of the series as well (perhaps with Michiru in her late twenties or early thirties). After nearly losing Michiru -- regardless if this is to the possibility of another romantic partner, mortal danger, etc. -- Shirou may very well come to terms with his own feelings regarding her. Cue him blowing up at her, accidentally admitting his feelings, and then apologizing for both going off and having fallen in love with her. Whether Michiru reciprocates his feelings or not is entirely up to who she has become.

PINGUA X MICHIRU

A literal whirlwind romance.

Michiru and Pingua are both steadfast in their beliefs and willing to do anything to act in the name of those beliefs, as evidenced by Michiru’s brash actions and Pingua’s intentions to scare Anima City with a false bomb. They may end up clashing quite a bit because of this.

While there isn’t much character development or screen time regarding Pingua, I’d imagine him ending up being a literally and figuratively flighty character, as his nature as a beastman leaves him to the mercy of the winds and his wanderlust. I’d also imagine Pingua to be quite the playboy, initially.

What would start out as a tryst some years into the future would quickly turn into a friends with benefits relationship, with both sides accepting the terms. Pingua, however, may or may not fall for the headstrong tanuki. Michiru would likely be oblivious to these feelings for a very, very long time, as Pingua wouldn’t mention it to her out of respect for their terms.

Only after a bout of jealousy -- perhaps Michiru ends up telling Pingua that she wants to start dating someone else seriously -- Pingua may or may not tell her that he wants her. Of course, that depends on the development of Pingua’s character over the course of their informal relationship, as well as Michiru herself.

PINGUA X SHIROU

Enemies to lovers? Buddy cop romance? Who knows.

Sure, Pingua may or may not have tried to throw a false bomb at the mayor in the past and Shirou may have thrown him headfirst into the roof of a building -- but what’s the harm? Pingua may end up seeing Shirou as an ally in his beliefs in how beastmen should be treated and act as an informal partner later in Shirou’s neverending goal of keeping beastmen safe.

Lots and lots and LOTS of flirting on Pingua’s part once he realizes that Shirou, while seemingly dispassionate and blunt, is actually attractive. A one night stand may turn into multiple night stands, if Shirou would ever give him the time of day.

Cue a long series of misadventures, miscommunication, and a general number of frustrating scenes that eventually lead to a confession on both of their parts.

#bna #brand new animal #bna shirou #bna pingua #bna michiru #bna nazuna #i dont know what this is either #but this fandom seems kinda young #someone please interact with me

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phykios · 4 years

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the marble king, part 1 [read on ao3]

Constantinople, 1453

The end of the world began the evening of the 22nd of May, Anno Mundi 6961. Perseus, who usually never had a head for such things, would mark the date indelibly in his heart for the rest of his life.

That night, the moon had risen, dark and eclipsed, and the men around him on the walls had shuddered, marking themselves with the sign of the cross. “An ill omen,” they muttered, fearful. “A portent of evil, surely.”

Surrounded on all sides by the Ottomans, Percy certainly couldn’t see how it might be otherwise. Amongst the rising smoke of prayer which surrounded him, Percy sent up his own. Poliouchos, Brotoloigos, be with our swords. Sthenios, guard your people here. Ennosigaios, he prayed, lifting his face to the dark moon, Father. May I bring honor to your name.

The night passed without further incident, but Percy could feel it coming, the way he could feel the earth shift beneath his feet, or the storms rolling in from the sea. What “it” could possibly be, however--that was the question.

It felt somewhat futile to pray to his father, and the rest of the Olympians. Though they had answered him in the past, though his father had sent him more signs and gifts and summons than any other demigod he had ever known, the gods had, of late, been strangely silent. This was not terribly unusual in and of itself--most children like him rarely ever heard from their divine, yet distant, mothers and fathers--yet even Percy found his attempts at conversation thoroughly rebuffed. The rainbow messages would not reach their recipients. There was not a single satyr or faun to be found in the whole of the city. The nereids of the Bosphorus had vanished without a trace. Perhaps most concerning, he had not even heard from his cyclops brother in quite some time. It was certainly a question he wished to pose to Chiron, but Percy simply had not had an opportunity to visit camp, what with all that had been going on.

The journey to Sigeion was not so long and arduous, merely two or three days at most, even if he chose to travel over land rather than shortcut through Marmara, but Percy simply could not afford to leave at this time. Not with all their many and varied enemies closing in on them.

Leaving his fellow men to mutter and pray amongst themselves, he turned to view his city for himself, leaning between the merlons of the battlement, resting his arms on the lip of the embrasure. Even from here, one could see the dome of St. Sophia rising over the peak of the first hill, even in the darkened moonlight, silvery and silent and still. He looked above, to the jeweled night sky, and wondered, not for the first time, for what purpose was this divine silence that they suffered here.

He received no answer, of course, not that night, and not for three nights afterwards.

On the fourth day, he had been forcibly shuffled off his post by his commander, who ordered him to get out and get some rest, after he had endured the very worst of the previous day’s rain and hail. The commander was but a mortal, but a damn good one, with a mind like Athena and a war cry like Ares, and arguing with him was a relatively useless proposition, despite the fact that, if pushed, Percy could rout his whole cohort. But he acquitted, and had spent his free evening walking up and down the misty, ghostlike streets of Constantinople. Hymns and prayers were sung behind every door, a litany of pleas, a symphony of sobs, a catalogue of wishes, all to the god of the Christians and to this god’s holy mother, which only made Percy more melancholy. How long had it been since he had seen his own mother? He had sent her away before the siege had begun, her and her husband and his half-sister, praying that his father had had enough continued affection for his one-time lover to see her and her family to safer shores, wherever they may be.

Small comforts.

Overcome with melancholy, he did not realize that his pilgrimage had brought him to the walls and domes of St. Sophia, the tether to Olympus. They were always a sight to behold, he thought ruefully, as facts he had never cared to learn himself surfaced from the recesses of his memory, even if he could not quite see them through all this damned mist. The mathematics of it was, in truth, quite beyond him, but still he could hear her voice as she explained, for the hundredth time, how the dome had been expertly balanced upon the pendentives, which then thusly bore the gargantuan weight downwards, how the forty windows gave the impression to the mortals that the dome floated above the cathedral, which of course it did, in a manner of speaking, hung on a silver thread from the heavens, how she had been quite nice when she hadn’t been an insufferable daughter of Athena--

“Percy?”

He turned, not to the blonde hair that he had half expected he would see, but to hair as red as firelight, the starkness turning her pale face even paler. “Rachael?”

“Oh, it is you!” And she leapt on him in an embrace that would have shocked the people around them, if they had cared to lift their heads from their unceasing prayer. “I cannot begin to tell how glad I am to see you.”

“And I as well,” he said, returning her embrace. They no longer had any awkwardness between them, and had not for years--and thanks be to the gods for that. What had once been a fumbling, awkward romance had blossomed instead into a deep, solid friendship, one that he was most grateful for. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong at camp?”

She shook her head. “No more or less wrong than the last time you were there. Troia still stands, for the moment.”

That was not a reassuring answer. “Then what brings you to our fair city? And,” he frowned, suddenly confused. “We are under siege… how did you--”

“I had to come,” she said, turning towards the church, despite the mist which shrouded it from view. “I just had this feeling.”

Oh, would it were that her feelings were ever good. “The Oracle?”

Rachael nodded. “She has been restless, as of late. She has not spoken through me in many years, though I can feel her stirring.”

“Perhaps it will be good news, this time.”

She looked at him, pityingly. “Dearest Perseus, surely even you know better than to court the Moirai in this manner.”

“What more can they do to me,” he replied, “than has already been done?”

They stood in silence for some time, contemplating on the odd circumstances which brought them to this place, at this moment. Around him, the prayers of the people never ceased, though in the thick, heavy fog which surrounded them, it seemed as though they were the only two real people in the square. He could see very little, but whatever Rachael could divine from the walls must have been fascinating, he assumed, whatever it was she could see with her special sight.

“This mist,” she murmured. “It is strong, and unnatural.”

“I suspected as much.” Dense fog such as this was not a common occurrence in the city, so sudden and out of place that even the mortals had noticed it, another malignant augury to haunt them. “Can you see through it? Do you know what has caused it?”

As long as he had known her, Rachael had possessed quite the unique gift, to see truth clearly and without alteration. Magic spells and enchanted fog were no match for her, she who had once traversed the fabled Labyrinth, Ariadne’s thread made manifest in a young girl. She had even been able to see Olympus as it perched on top of the dome, the severed head of the mountain balanced perfectly on the point of a needle, even as he and his fellow demigods could see nothing. As the Oracle, she had lost none of her keenness, speaking prophecy as precisely, and as cuttingly, as she had always spoken truth to her friends. She was not one who believed in lies or falsehoods, or who would hide the truth for any mere convenience.

So he knew that the naked fear on her face was real when she turned to him and said, “I can see nothing but this wretched mist.”

There were not many monsters he knew of who could create an illusion so powerful as to shroud even the Oracle of Delphi; Hecate, perhaps, but why she would have deigned to show her face when the rest of the gods remained silent was very uncharacteristic of what he knew of the goddess. And he did not think that even she would still be so bitter as to side with the Ottomans in this instance.

Faintly, through the thick net of psalms which enfolded the square, he heard those other voices, sharp and piercing in tone, yet rich and mellifluous in melody, floating to them from across the Golden Horn. By his count, this was the fourth time they had sung today; thus, the time was now evening, a little after sunset, if he was correct.

“What is that strange singing?” asked his companion, tilting her head curiously to the source of the song.

“It is the enemy,” said Percy. “Five times daily they call out to their god in this manner.” The Ottoman prisoners they had captured continued to pray their daily prayers, even in captivity, with a fervency and a dedication which deeply impressed Percy’s captain, though had sorely disturbed Percy’s other, more brutish fellow men. Having heard it up close and far away for so long, he had nearly grown accustomed to the melody, and found it oddly comforting in its sharp, even predictability, in this other man’s faith which would not desert him as it had with some of his Christian captors.

“It’s beautiful,” Rachael whispered.

“It is,” he agreed. He was sure there was much more to say on that topic, but the fear and unease of the magical fog was too much to bear, and, truth be told, he was quite hungry. Perhaps they could debate this another time. “Do you have a place to stay? I wouldn’t trust an Inn at the moment, if I were you. My mother’s house has an extra bed; you will be well come there.”

But she was not listening to him.

He frowned, giving her arm the briefest of shakes. “Rachael?”

She stood, still as a statue, her gaze turned up to the dome, her mouth hanging open. There was not even a breath of wind to ruffle her wild hair.

“Rachael?”

Her posture, already so straight, snapped even straighter, as though it were the string of a bow. Her head was thrown back, and she gazed sightlessly at the sky, her mouth open in a wordless shriek. He nearly toppled over as she fell onto him, her hands a death grip around his wrists. Green, sickly mist poured forth from her mouth, her eyes, her ears, and all around him in a horrible, deathless voice, the Oracle delivered its prophecy.

Tell the emperor, she gasped, in an ancient tongue that had not been heard for nearly a thousand years, that my hall has fallen to the ground--Phobos no longer has his house. In this state, she attempted to claw her way up his body, her shaking hands reaching for his face, even as he tried to hold her at bay. Nor his mantic bay, nor his prophetic spring.

His storm sense tingled, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, the sweet scent of flowers in the air. Thunder rumbled above them, even as the fog retreated, revealing the walls and domes of the church to the open air once again, and the mortals increased their plaintive wails.

The water has dried up! She shrieked, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Tell the emperor--all is ended!

With an almighty crack, lightning struck over their heads, arcing with pinpoint precision onto the very tip of the dome. The receding mist lit up like gold and silver, like the celestial bronze of his secret sword, like the bright, blinding glow of a god’s truest form, one which mortal eyes were not able to comprehend, and in that light Percy thought he saw them, the twelve and the others, the hammer and the dove, the twin archers, the owl and the crown and all the rest, and for one terrible half of a heartbeat, there also he saw the trident, saw his father’s face turn from him in sorrow, and he could not feel the drag of Rachael’s fingers into his skin, nor hear the cries of the mortals as they beheld the terrible sight, though they could not understand what they saw, none but Percy could see how the gods fled the ancient city, leaving their people behind, leaving Percy behind, to slaughter and to ruin.

And just as swiftly, the vision vanished. The fog had lifted entirely. Rachael collapsed into his arms, the spirit of prophecy having left her form, and he shook her as gently as he could. “Rachael, are you alright? Rachael?”

As though she were emerging from a dream, she groaned, her eyes shut tight. “Percy?” she grunted, shuddering in his grasp. “What--where--”

“You had a vision, it seems,” he said. “Can you remember any of it?”

She shook her head, blinking. “No… what did I say?”

“You spoke of the Emperor.” It was likely that the man himself was within the very church, leading what was left of his people in more desperate prayer. “You said--”

But with a short, sharp scream, she cut off his words, and lifted one trembling finger to the sky. “Percy,” she gasped in fear and in terror, “Percy! Look!”

“You know that I cannot see as you,” he said, though his gorge rose within him. “What? What is it?”

“Olympus,” she cried out, with all the pain of a newly orphaned child. “Olympus! Olympus has gone!”

And as she wept into her hands, his arms around her, he sent up his prayers once again, to Athena and Ares and Zeus, to the father that had always professed to love him above all his other children, his thoughts rising like smoke up to a sky full of stars which no longer seemed to shine quite as bright.

#my fic #pjo #eventual percabeth but untagged 4 now #the marble king #unedited 4 now also....

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