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#your honor I love him
ohohorla · 15 hours
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loneliestluvr · 3 days
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𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔
part 1. part 2.
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pairing: eris vanserra x archeron oc
synopsis: Caught up in a world of hollow grief for her people, her life, and her father, Blair Archeron is forced into a life under the light she wants no part of after ghosting through immortality since being Made. But what she finds, is not what she expects.
warning: depression, worthlessness, cauldron trauma, angst, that’s kinda it for now tbh.
word count: 1.9k
taryn thinks: ive been thinking about eris vanserra for a long time and reading lost bonds by @readychilledwine about tamlin kind of gave me some inspo and motivation i haven’t had in a while to write this. also ttpd because ive been down in the dumps and feeling angsty so… enjoy!! 🫶🏼 i apologize if it’s a bit scrambled lol, i just wanted to write it out.
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The fabric Nuala and Cerridwen had dressed her in erased any and all traces of the truth. The destitute it had felt her life became since this newfound immortality ripped everything Blair Archeron had ever known away from her, tucked away. Hidden behind the gauzy chiffon.
There had been small pockets of awareness, of feeling like she had control over herself lately. Where she didn’t rot away in bed, or a chaise— alone and wrapped in the quiet of her mind. Staring into open space, ghosting through whatever this life was.
Those times were hard to come by, and even when the war against Hybern was raging it was decided Blair would stay safe in Velaris. Where she had always remained. Where she did not leave, until today.
It was a pointed argument among their small circle that this life was no better than what Feyre had been through with Tamlin, but Blair did not fight it. Simply… existed inside of it.
It wasn’t that nobody tried to help, they did. They asked questions, gave the second eldest sister every chance to open up. To get out, to experience this new world. To talk.
Elain would argue even when she did, it was mere hollows of the person Blair had been who responded. The echoes that remembered how to speak, that walked so smoothly and carelessly that she seemed to float on a hot wind.
Blair was not fearless, she was not cunning, she was not soft, nor was she anything that her sisters were. She was simply… other.
And maybe that was the furthest thing from simple, that there were no words to describe the ethereal beauty of her hollowness. Maybe there never would be.
Blair didn’t seem to mind, and she got away with it.
Content was the feeling that seemed the most appropriate to describe the life she lead now. Moved into her youngest sisters River Home, with a large room at the end of the house overlooking the winding waters. The gardens Elain had crafted and tended when she wasn’t at the townhouse sat below, the large expanse of the land out to the river in full view. The snow capped mountains that danced across the skyline, one’s she sometimes watched Feyre paint in front of from her window day after day, month after month.
She supposed she had it coming when Nesta was forced to the House of Wind. When her older sister by a mere year had pointed out that Blair had amounted to nothing in the time Nesta had been taken hostage inside that House on the side of the mountain. When Nesta had been expected to work and be something, Blair had still remained as useless as before.
“She is adjusting,” Feyre had argued on Blair’s behalf. Blair had been the kindest of their sisters to Feyre when they were in that cabin, poor and broken and nothing. Who had helped with no qualms, who had genuinely cared for them all— even their seemingly worthless father. “—she did not ask for this, the same as you. At least she is not drinking herself to death.” The smartest of them, as Feyre had described to Rhys’ Inner Circle before those meetings in the mortal realm, others would have thought the same if they knew her before.
Before she became this… thing.
“You let her wither away, sitting about in her sadness and grief and her muteness. I would think she had forgotten how to speak if it weren’t for the utterly mundane responses she gives.” Nesta had barked back at their little sister while Blair sat by the window, unmoving. Her face a mask of cool indifference like she wasn’t quite hearing anyway. “How is what she’s doing any different than what I have? Because she isn’t spending your money? Because she hasn’t tainted Rhysand’s precious Court image?”
She didn’t care how they spoke of her, didn’t care to defend herself from Nesta’s forked tongue— it took more energy than she had to argue. Blair could have washed away right into the water that rushed through the river she stared into for all she cared.
Everything had just gone so… wrong from that point. As if Nesta’s breaking point was seeing her first baby sister be so broken and discarded, she had ripped into a secret nobody had even bothered to tell Feyre or Blair— that Feyre’s babe would kill her.
The rest had been a blur like usual after and here they were, dressed and gowned in the finest clothes they had. In the short time since finding out about Feyre’s deadly predicament, everyone seemingly had agreed with Nesta about Blair’s lack of presence in their court… or any at all.
The only people who knew she existed were those that were present when she was forced into the bitterly cold water of the cauldron. When it had felt as though she drowned, that she had died there and something else had filled her body. Felt as though she could only see herself from outside of her body, outside of whatever she had became.
Blair Archeron would be making her debut to the Court of Nightmares in the same fashion Feyre would be revealing her pregnancy. She didn’t know much else, didn’t care for the details or even why Nesta had been training in dances they both knew since childhood. Just what she was to wear and to come when called.
To admit the dress she was now wearing wasn’t utterly beautiful would be a disgrace in itself, and she looked stunning.
Despite her pointed ears being viewable, Blair’s long and heavy gold-brown hair had been curled gorgeously, cascading down her freckled and fair bare back to cover where her dress did not. Kissing and tickling the skin when she moved her head, half of her hair pulled back from her face into loose twirls and braids.
Her face painted in light cosmetics that she didn’t need. It was no secret that her beauty came first out of the four sisters, even before dear Elain’s— skin freckled, dark lashes and brows, cheeks usually tinted pink naturally. But her eyes, her eyes were the rarest of her sisters and what made her so profoundly different.
A base of that gray-blue that grew more vibrant as it met her pupil. But the flecks of nearly golden amber splattered like an artist had flicked their wrist in a rush is what made them so different.
Why the black of her dress fit her so much better than it did poor Elain, her second youngest sister nearly washed out by the bleak darkness she had been presented to wear.
The dress clinging to Blair’s torso was bedecked in gold sparkling beads that formed lines of detail along the bodice and the hem by her feet, the fabric black beneath it. Hugging tight to her figure. Eating and drinking had gotten easier after the war and had allowed her to fill out again.
Her full breasts wrapped tight to her chest where they sat prettily, the dips in her hips and waist outlined by the sheer sleeves that flared well past her hands, capped around her shoulders but left her back utterly bare despite the illusion of the chiffon looking like a cape.
The dress hung from her body as she waited almost carelessly to enter the throne room of Hewn City, and Blair felt a little like she might die.
The air here, anywhere, was so much colder than the sweltering heat of her bedroom where she kept the fire roiling day and night— where she felt like she was at home even if it was just in her head. Sleeping on the floor in front of it most nights, where the crackling of the fire could drown out the sound of her thoughts. Where the warmth could make her feel something other than empty.
Now. Feyre’s voice rang warmly in Blair’s head, echoing outside of the thick walls of forest she’d been taught to put up. Spruce and oak, winding paths lined with red poppy’s and orange geraniums, fogged over meadows to traipse through at will. A maze for anyone else, with no beginning and no end.
The rest of them had gone in a half hour ago it seemed, Blair to be used if they needed to pull a distraction or anything. She would be introduced no matter what, but timing was to be used as an advantage.
The towering doors to the throne room boomed open as Blair turned the corner to the hallway, the curls in her hair bouncing with every step despite the light wind billowing through her flowing sleeves as if she were gliding.
The music continued as she kept her head high and entered the space, hands folded neatly in front of her. A small upward twitch of her pretty red lips, her face calm and still.
Still as the room became when her feet hit the marble across that threshold.
She walked, one foot in front of the other. Head in a full fog before she even entered the throne room— but there was a tug. Something that had almost made her stumble, but she sucked in a tight breath as she focused on the dais ahead.
Pulling, tugging, a line going taut the closer she became and her vision cleared. Someone that had been in deep discussion before Blair entered, someone now turned to face her as everyone else did.
All but the Court of Dreamers gaping at her, at her beauty. So much different than her obvious sisters, a third sister to the High Lady of the Night Court, but so much the same that it was easily distinguishable. Gasps and whispers filling Blair’s now clear ears, but she didn’t look anywhere but the male in front of Rhys and Feyre— as much as she wanted to. As much as she pleaded with herself to look away, she could not.
The bright auburn hair, the pale and freckled skin of his handsome face. All fae were gorgeous, she’d been told and equally come to learn but… just the very look of him made her skin heat.
A look of something similar washed through his amber eyes, the matching amber to the flecks in her own, his throat bobbing.
Something like devastation went through this male and though Blair couldn’t tear her eyes from his as she finally made those last steps to the dais, she could see Rhys’ mask slip ever so slightly from the corner of her eye before it went back up.
There was a part of her, so enamored by whoever this person was— and something about him made her slip back into consciousness. That outside look at herself faded back into her own body and she didn’t realize until she breathed again that her heart had been beating so rapidly.
Or that she hadn’t addressed her High Lord and Lady.
Or that they’d demanded the crowd go back to dancing and drinking and eating.
Or that all she did was face this male, a look of shocked confusion painting her usually dull expression because somehow, someway, she felt like she knew him.
And that the tug she felt, that line, went utterly taut before him.
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🏷️: @thehighladywrites and anyone else that wants to be added to a tag list for this or anything else lmk lmfao
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justanamesstuff · 3 days
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We must protect him 🥹😍
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incorrecthatchetfield · 6 months
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valiantvillain · 8 months
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You can't convince me Gale wasn't totally advertising himself as marriage material throughout the entirety of his romance. He's got a tower. It's got a great kitchen and a wine cellar. He can cook. He'll formally introduce you to Tara over a nice dinner. His mother will love you. And after so many years of the bar being in the pits of hell for irl men I fell for that shit hook, line, and sinker. Feel his shirt that smells like a library. It's husband material.
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osakarts · 3 months
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rafayel: me? blushing? never.
also rafayel whenever MC gets a little to close:
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kitorasohma · 3 months
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HELP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH
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Honestly, way for Rosie to fly to the top of my favorite characters. I love her banter and friendship with Alastor so unbelievably much!
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percyluvr · 2 months
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Hiii!!! If your requests are open could you do an injury fic with Luke and a Persephone reader? Where she gets hurt during capture the flag or smth like that and this man starts stressing even if he’s on the opposite team and didn’t know what was going on when she got hurt?
luke castellan x daughter of persephone!reader summary: you get hurt during capture the flag and luke gets worried wc: 885
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Luke Castellan is very particular about his capture the flag team, and everyone at camp knew that, which is why it came as a surprise when you and him were on separate teams.
When asked, he would just say that the two of you had decided to have a competition on who could create the better capture the flag strategy, but it was deeper than that. The two of you had a small fight because you felt that he never let you help with the strategy enough, and you felt like he never really let you in on the combat. It was almost like he thought of you as a delicate flower, and when you brought it up, he got irritated, telling you that he wasn't trying to control you, he just didn't want you to get hurt.
You'd gotten mad and stormed out, and now neither of you knew where you stood, and preparing for capture the flag against him wasn't helping at all. The few days leading up to capture the flag were some of the most hostile days each month, and this time was no exception. It may just be a camp war game to some campers, but to others, especially your teammate Clarisse, this was a big deal. Clarisse was always rude and quite hostile towards your boyfriend, but it was worse than ever now.
You and Clarisse were an unexpected duo, but you two had a special connection, considering each other your best friend, so when you told her what happened between you and Luke, she was pissed off, to say the least.
"Thanks for telling me that, I'm gonna hand his ass to him on Friday," she said, running her hand along your arm, trying to comfort you to her best ability.
"Thanks, Clarisse, I can always count on you if I want someone to get beat up," you joked, making her laugh.
The next few days went by quickly, you and Clarisse rigorously training with each other and going over your plan as co-captains. You'd always loved being on the same team as Clarisse before you started dating Luke, and now you finally got to be again.
On the day of capture the flag, you and all the campers headed into the forest, getting into your positions. The game began, and you and Clarisse charged into the other team's territory.
As a daughter of Persephone, you had the ability to manipulate certain plants, which was helpful, especially at camp, because you could control almost all of the plants that were there. Unfortunately, with great power comes a great ego boost, which you fell victim to.
You and Clarisse were basically wiping the floor with your opponents, when you got caught up in your head, confidence overflowing, and tried to create a longer vine, accidentally tripped over it, and fell right into the sword of the camper you were fighting. Luckily, you had managed to move your body so that you didn't get stabbed anywhere fatal, but you did get an incredibly deep cut right under your ribcage, which caught the attention of Clarisse. Seeing you injured fueled Clarisse's rage, and she quickly finished the fight.
Immediately, she picked you up bridal style, rushing you through the woods to the infirmary. She passed by Luke, and at first he ignored it, but then he did a double take after realizing it was Clarisse, and saw you in her arms, blood soaking through your orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. Even though he was in the middle of a fight, he booked it in the direction the two of you were heading, now full of worry.
He finally caught up to the two of you, surprised at how quick Clarisse was. When Clarisse caught sight of him, she cracked her knuckles and gave him the dirtiest look you had even seen in your life. You bit back a laugh.
Luke rushed up to where you were sitting on the bed.
"Baby, are you okay? Please tell me you're okay," he said, voice filled with desperation.
You gave him a pained look, gesturing to the large blood-soaked bandage covering the left side of your abdomen. "Well, I have a near fatal hole going through my side, but other than that, I'm great," you say dryly.
"C'mon, don't be that way. I'm sorry for what happened last week, okay? But see, this is why I'm so protective. I can't let anything happen to you, I don't want to lose anyone else," he whispers, eyes glazed over.
At this point, Clarisse is long gone. Knowing her, she probably left because she couldn't stand to see you and Luke being all 'lovey dovey,' as she calls it.
"Well... yeah. I guess I see your point. But I still think that you should let me help more, please."
"Okay, you're right. I know you're perfectly capable, I'm just scared. I've lost too many people and losing you would be too much to handle, so please be more careful, okay?" He eyes your bandage, giving you a grimace.
You respond by pulling him down to your face by his shirt, and give him a sweet kiss, which he reciprocates almost immediately. It almost made you laugh how quickly he kisses you back, even though it happens every time.
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caemidraws · 3 months
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aws-art · 7 months
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howdy
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margariemargarita · 2 months
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i'm going to kill the person i care most about: you. unless you can stop me.
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jaybirdzi · 2 months
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12:39 am
warnings - smut, p in v, not-so-gn (usage of 'good girl'), slight degradation, slight dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)
minors dni !!!
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dbdbbe all i can think abt is jason absolutely going at it after a long day of patrol. he is tired, but soo pent up, and there you are, looking all pretty in just his shirt and panties. it was almost like you were begging to be taken.
your back was arched into the mattress, his hand holding down your shoulders against the bed. muffled moans and whimpers escaped your parted lips, eyes teary from his cock slamming into your walls. “what a good fuckin’ girl. takin’ my cock so well aren't you baby?” he drawls, groaning at your walls tightening with every word. your hips squirm against his ministrations, his hand slaps against your ass, causing a squeak to escape your lips
“‘m talking to you baby, you're a good girl aren't you?”
you could only nod, not trusting your fucked out brain to work enough to form coherent words.
"use your words like a big girl." he slaps your ass again, a yelp escaping your throat. you grip at the sheets, only able to think about his thick shaft stretching out your walls so deliciously.
"y-yes 'm a good g-girl" you stammer out between moans and whimpers as his thrusts seemed relentless.
"you gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby." his hand travels from your hip, to your puffy needy clit. his calloused fingers tapping agains the swollen bud. loud moans resonated in the room, moans turning into full on sobs as you nodded, eyes closing shut.
"cum for me baby" he whispered, leaning his body over yours as you came over his cock. he didn't stop, now focusing on his orgasm.
you were a whimpering and drooling mess, body jerking with each thrust. he grunts and lets out a low moan, finally reaching his climax, your walls tightening around him, his cum coating your walls.
he pulls out your panting body, he takes shallow breaths, reaching for a napkin and wiping his dripping cum from your folds. you whined, still sensitive.
"sorry baby. i'll buy you the pill tomorrow" his voice came out low and rumbly. you just nod as he helps you sit back up. he sets you on his lap as he kisses around your face. "you really did so good for me." he kisses your forehead. "now lets get you cleaned up baby."
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i need him to be real SO BADLYYY!!!
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w00d1and · 21 days
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look at him, LOOK. AT. HIM.
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jmart brain rot (the blue/gray i used around martin ended up too dark :<)
+ the admiral :3
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disaster-vampires · 27 days
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Armand in the new trailer
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morgan-reads-comics · 6 months
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Nightwing #107 (2023)
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