#- So he told her to do it herself and left the room)

[bleeding-star-heart]

"You failed, didn't you?" Thorin nods vigorously. "Turns out the real comet which heralds the coming of the Dragon Hero...won't actually be coming until six months from now, give or take." Iris lets out a scoff of disbelief. "So, you never even had a prayer of succeeding?" Thorin once again nods. "Then what the fuck have you been doing for the past five years?" Thorin sucks in a breath. "Drinking away the shame of it, mostly," he confesses, glancing around the humble sitting room. It hadn't been much when Thorin left, and it still wasn't now: just a worn sofa, two chairs and a small hearth. But it was home, and Iris wouldn't change it for the world. Once, long ago, she'd thought Thorin felt the same. Iris stares at her husband, pausing in her knitting as she tries to process the reality of what her husband has just told her. "What, of leaving your wife and newborn daughter on the word of a greedy, disgraced Glimmer?" The fact that their local priest of Light, Jordel, was only a Glimmer, and not a Glow or a Shine or higher still despite being in his forties was telling enough. Nowadays just about anyone who'd had even a little priestly training could call themselves a Glimmer-actually being ordained was a bonus, not a requirement. But few villages near the Snow Ridge Mountains could afford a proper, ordained priest of Light-never mind someone who had achieved the rank of Glow or higher. And hey, Thorin's Uncle Jordel had spent a year and change at the monastery up in Merigar Pass-surely that was good enough for a village priest, right? Never mind that your average Shine demanded at least three years of study before they even considered ordaining your average would-be priest. Never mind that Jordel had only come back to the village because the magistrate down in Thannmold wanted him arrested for selling fake medicines. The oh-so-important Glows and Shines up in Merigar Pass had allowed Jordel to occasionally look at some dusty texts while he drank and hid from the Thannmold authorities, so he was perfectly qualified to advise the village on spiritual matters. Given all that, was it really a surprise that Glimmer Jordel had been wrong about when the Dragon Comet was supposed to arrive? Not really. But then... Thorin sighs. "Iris-" "When did you realize you weren't the Dragon Hero?" Iris snaps, throwing aside her knitting on the sofa cushion next to her. "When?" Thorin lowers his gaze to the dirt floor, clearly ashamed of what he has to say next. "The minute I arrived in Thannmold." "A month afterward, then," Iris says coldly, rising from the sofa and striding towards her husband.

"You knew a month after you left me and Lissa that you weren't the Dragon Hero, and yet instead of coming back you stayed in Thannmold, drinking our lives away." "I was also trying to find-" Thorin protested, but Iris has had enough. "I don't care," she cries. "I don't care if you were trying to find the lost tiara of old Queen Madrigal herself. There is nothing you can say that can make up for what you did. Get out of my house."

For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey, you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face asking to speak to you.

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Sorry - Chapter 9

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Series Masterlist

“So, you’re just gonna sit in this room all day and wallow?” Dominique let out a groan and threw the covers over her head. “Sis, come on. You know I love you and  J.R and Tayvon love having you here but I think you should call Jon back” Desiree trailed off and Dominique pulled the covers off her head and glared at her older sister. 

“I’m not calling him,” Dominique said in a tone that she hoped came off as final. Why would she call Jon? He had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She was already feeling a type of way about the bitch at the club but she was willing to let that go and be with him. Then she found out he was with Trinity and if she was being completely honest, that stung a whole lot. THEN to find him at Trinity’s house and to learn that they kissed was the final nail in the coffin. Jon had hurt her beyond repair. 

“Dom, he’s been calling me for hours, He just wants to talk to you.” 

“I don’t wanna talk to him!” Dominique snapped. Tears of frustration and pain now falling down her face, she angrily wiped at them as she sat up in the bed and looked at her sister. “He made me look so fucking stupid Muffin. He deadass left our home to go be with her.., He never wanted me he’s always wanted her and now I’m not in the way anymore he’s free to go do what he wants.” Dominique cried, pulled her knees to her chest, and crying into them Desiree felt her heart break as she looked at her younger sister, She pushed herself off the wall and walked over to her, she climbed into bed with Dominique and pulled her into a hug, letting her cry into her shoulder. 

Talisua Fatu stared at her eldest son with disappointment etched on her face. “You kissed Trinity?” 

“She kissed me.” 

Talisua sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “Why did you go over there in the first place? You and Dom argued and you just what?  Happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to go visit Trinity?” 

Jon stayed silent and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t know why he went to Trinity’s house… he just, wanted to vent, he didn’t expect Trinity to kiss him, he thought they had moved on from each other. 

“Ma’ I messed up. Bad. I know this, I just… I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“You probably can’t,” Talisua said as bluntly as possible. Jon lifted his gaze from the table to glare at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry son, but you broke that woman’s heart. From what she told me, you made her feel unwanted and made her feel like Trinity would always be your top choice and I agree with her. You didn’t just kiss Trinity, you chose her.” 

“Ma..” Jon trailed off with a deep sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never wanted to hurt Dom” 

“Maybe you did.” Jon opened his mouth to argue but his mother's glare stopped him. “She hurt you by basically rejecting the idea of marriage and you hurt her by showing her she’s not the only option for you.” 

“But she is!” Jon snapped standing up from his chair, not caring about how it fell over. “What I feel for Dominique is way stronger than what I felt for Trinity. 

“Then you show her that! You drive your ass down to Ensley and go show her how much she means to you!” 

Before Jon took the twelve-minute drive to Ensley he decided to visit Trinity. He needed her to know and understand that it was over between the two of them. He only wanted Dominique. 

Trinity opened her front door, looking surprised. “Jon? What—” she started, but he cut her off. 

“Coming here the other day was a mistake. And to be completely honest me being here now is probably gonna come back and bite me in the ass but, I need you to understand that there will never be anything between us... ever.” 

Trinity narrowed her eyes at him before scoffing and shutting the door in his face. Jon sighed then shrugged before turning on his heels was jogging back to his car. 

Jon pulled up in front of Dominique's sister’s house. His heart was beating profusely in his chest as he walked up to the front door and knocked. He was just about to walk away when the front door opened and Desiree stood there with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“I just wanna see her,”  Jon said before Desiree could say anything. “I know I fucked up. I know I did. But I need to apologize. I need her to know I want to be with her.” 

Desiree stood there for a long moment, staring at Jon, her arms still crossed. “Jon, she’s hurt. You made her look stupid, feel stupid. She’s humiliated, Jonathan. She had people in her comments all week calling her Trinity’s replacement, people in her DMs telling her they knew you were going to go back to Trinity. She’s humiliated.” 

Jon felt like shit. Absolute garbage. “Please,” Jon said, his voice now steady with quiet desperation, “I need to see her. I need to talk to her. I know it might not make a difference, but I need her to know how much I care. How much I love her. That I want only her. I can’t lose her, Desiree.”

Desiree’s eyes softened, She had watched Jon and Dom’s whole relationship and he had never shown that he wasn’t fully invested in Dominique. She knew how much Dominique meant to him, but she also knew how deeply her sister had been hurt. She sighed, glancing over her shoulder as if trying to gauge how her sister might react.

“Fine, but if she tells you to leave, you leave.”  Jon nodded understandably and followed Desiree into the house, shutting the door behind him. Jon was a bundle of nerves as he followed Desiree up the stairs. He didn’t even know what else he was going to say to Dominique besides sorry. 

Dominique looked up when the bedroom door opened. When Jon stepped inside, she immediately started to shake her head.

“Dom please -” 

“No. leave.” 

“No.” Jon stood his ground, staring at her. He wasn’t about to let her walk out of his life without fighting for her. “I fucked up.” He said, moving closer to her when she turned her back to him. “I love you Dominique, not the chick from the club and not Trinity.” 

Dominique scoffed and kept her back to him, looking out into her sister’s backyard. “I know I hurt you.” He continued. “You helped me turn my life around after WWE threatened to fire me after my DUI’s. You helped me build a better relationship with my kids.” 

“Yeah, I helped you,” she muttered, her voice quiet but laced with bitterness. “But I did that because I believed in you. I trusted you.”Jon took another step forward, his heart breaking at the distant coldness in her tone.

"I know, baby. I know you trusted me. And I destroyed that trust." His voice was thick with regret. “But I need you to know that when I say I love you… I’m not just saying it to make things right. I do love you. I always have.”

“Then why did you go to her, Jon?” Dominque asked, turning to face him. Jon’s heart broke at the tears he caused streaming down her face. “Why did you have to kiss her?” Her sentence broke off with a choked sob and all Jon wanted to do was rush over to her and pull her into his arms. 

“Because I’m stupid.” 

Dominique’s body trembled as she tried to hold back more tears, her heart feeling like it was being shredded with each word Jon spoke. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt was still too raw, too fresh for her to just let go of it.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “You’re not stupid, Jon. You’re selfish. I understand that I could have been truthful about my stance on marriage but never have I once thought about running back to Dave or evening going to see him. But you - you chose her.” 

“I didn’t choose her Dominique. I just- I don’t know what I thought was going to happen but I would never choose her over you. I would never choose anybody over you.” 

”I loved you. And you threw that away without even thinking about what it would do to me.”

“Don’t say that.” Jonathan shook his head walking into Dominique’s personal space and grabbing her hands. She tried to fight him off but he wasn’t about to let her go. “You love me and I love you, and we’re going to get through this. I can’t change what I did,” Jon said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “But I can tell you how much I regret it. I can tell you that I’ll spend every single day trying to make this right. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Dominique. And if you let me, I’ll show you that you’re the one I choose. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you.”

And now what? You expect me to just forgive you because you’re sorry? Because you say you love me?” she asked bitterly. “You left me for her. You kissed her. You chose her, Jon. Not once, but twice.”

“I didn’t choose her, Dom,” Jon said, his voice desperate. “I messed up, but it was never about choosing her. I was stupid, confused—selfish, but I never wanted to lose you. I just wanted to fix things, and I thought I could go back to her and get some clarity, but I was wrong. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I want. It’s always been you. Just let me make it up to you. Let me prove it to you.” 

“Let go of me.” She said and Jon immediately let go of her hands. Dominique took a deep breath and took a step back from Jon, creating space between him. “Get out.” 

“Wha- Baby. Please.” 

“Clarity? You went to her for clarity? The same women who drove you to drink in the first place? The same women who didn’t care if you had a good relationship with your kids or your family?” 

“I’m sorry.” Jon’s own tears were now flowing down his face. “I wish I could take it back.” 

“The fucked up thing is, all this started over me being apprehensive about getting married.”  Dominique scoffed and shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore, Jon. 

Gutted Jon nodded. He tucked his bottom lip into his teeth and started to back away from Dominique. He needed to get out of there fast, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. “Okay,” He whispered.  He didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing he could say to undo this. Nothing he could do to take back the damage. His mistake had been too big, and Dominique’s trust in him had been shattered beyond repair.

Authors Note: Oh Damn... How do y'all think Jon is going to make it up to her??

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[flowery-mess]

the bet: part two

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! / punching / slaping / a bet related to a sexual topic made by Noah's friends, but no actual harm to the reader - consider whether to continue if this topic is sensitive for you.

Words: 2,1k

Author's note: please read warnings for this one! I wouldn't want to upset anyone and as always let me know if there's anything else that should be tagged!

the bet: part one | frat boy Noah masterlist

✨This two part fic takes place just a few weeks into Noah and Ella’s friendship with benefits, so it’s kind of a flashback story. In their storyline this would happen before the “uh oh” one shot.✨

“Hi, you’re Ella right?” tall man with long hair approached you next to the bar when you were getting a drink for yourself.

“Hi, yeah. I’m sorry, do I know you?” you answered, not sure if you already knew this man or not, feeling bad if you forgot.

“No I don’t think we officially met, I’m Jolly, Noah’s friend.” you shook his hand and smiled at him.

“Ah, okay.” you didn’t really know where this was going, you haven’t officially met any of Noah’s friends and didn’t feel any need to when your and Noah’s relationship wasn’t anything serious to meet his close friends.

“Do you wanna sit with us? Noah just went to grab something from his car. He'll be back in a minute.” uh oh, hanging out with his friends without him? It didn’t feel right, but you panicked and said yes.

“Hey everyone, this is Ella. Ella, this is Nick, Folio and Matt.” he pointed to each of the guys with each name he said. You noticed some girls sitting there with them, but they were probably not part of the friend group.

“That’s Noah’s spot, you can sit there.” Nick pointed to the empty space on the red couch and you sat down enough for Noah to have room when he comes back. On your right was a girl with long black hair that introduced herself as Nina.

You listened to their conversation, being on the shy side you didn’t really join them and rather stayed listening. You cursed yourself out for joining them in the first place and scanned the room for anyone you could know and use as an excuse for leaving. Before you could do that, you heard Folio calling your name.

“Shit sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?” you told him.

“That’s okay. I was just asking you the same question as everyone else, if you feel comfortable answering of course.” he told you first, shifting in his seat before spilling his question, “What is the most orgasms you had in one night?”

“What?” you didn’t hide the shock on your face, feeling uncomfortable from the stares of everyone.

“You don’t have to answer.” Nina told you and squeezed your hand in a supportive way.

“Why would you ask that?” you were confused and kind of offended by that question, but tried to look casual.

“Just curious.” Folio shrugged his shoulders.

“Because these assholes had a bet a few years ago about who can make the girl they sleep with have the most orgasms in one night. Ignore him, they’re stupid.”

You turned to face Nina, but you were left speechless.

“Can you give me another one?” from last week replayed in your head and Noah’s face flashed in front of your eyes. It couldn’t be, right? He wouldn’t.

When Noah walked back inside the house and saw you sitting with his friends, he froze. You were sitting with your back facing him, but he didn’t have a good feeling.

“Ella?” he said with uneasy feeling when he reached the group.

It took him one look at your face and he knew you knew. You didn’t say a word to any of them and started walking towards the door.

“What did you tell her?” Noah’s eyes went immediately to Folio.

“Bro I just-” Noah didn’t even let him finish the sentence, just yelled “Fuck you!” and turned around to go after you.

He saw you walking in the direction of your dorm so he started running to catch you before you could go inside.

“Ella!” he tried getting your attention, “Ella! Wait, please!”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him running after you, so you started walking faster, not wanting him to see you cry.

You didn’t make it to your dorm fast enough, you felt Noah’s hand around your arm so you stopped walking.

“Ella, I-”

“You what? What do you want, Noah?” you didn’t let him finish, not wanting to hear any of his excuses.

“Let me explain, please?”

“What is there to explain?” you looked at him with tears in your eyes, feeling humiliated. By him and by his friends.

“I don’t know what they told you but I promise it’s not true.”

“Oh really? So you don’t have a bet with your friends?”

“No. I mean yes, but no.”

When you didn’t say anything and just looked at him with a look full of sadness and anger he continued.

“We had a bet, but we stopped with it years ago. Folio brought it up last week and I’m an idiot for not shutting it down immediately. I’m an fucking idiot okay? I said yes, but I never told them anything. I never talked with them about you, I promise. I would never do that. I paid them their fucking money to shut up, I didn’t expect them to talk to you about it. I’m sorry Ella, really.”

“What?” you whispered, trying to understand what the fuck he just said.

“I didn’t tell them anything and I swear I didn’t plan to. They have their money and I promise you they’ll never talk about it again.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better, Noah?” you asked him, feeling really stupid right now.

Tears continued to run down your cheeks and Noah wanted nothing more than go back and punch his best friends.

“I promise I never wanted to hurt you.”

“What we did last week,” you took breath before you could finish your sentence, “was just because of this bet, right?”

Noah didn’t have to answer, the silence and his guilty look said it for him.

“Oh, okay.” you nodded and turned around to walk away from him.

“Wait.” he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, but you were quick enough to land a slap to his left cheek.

“I don’t wanna hear it, Noah.” and with that you ran up the stairs that lead to your dorm and left Noah standing there by himself.

—

That night you couldn’t fall asleep and Noah didn’t stop calling you until 4AM.

After you ran away from him, he went back to the house and had a fight with Folio who ended up with a black eye.

On Monday you thought about faking being sick to get out of sociology class to avoid Noah and his friends, but you didn’t.

When you entered the class you already saw Noah and his two friends, Matt and Folio, sitting in their usual places. You tried to avoid eye contact with all of them, but you saw Folio’s face and the ashamed look on his face when he saw you. He immediately turned his head down, as if he was the one who should feel ashamed.

Then you saw Noah, he was looking at you, seeking any reaction from you, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

You sat with Molly and Clara and didn’t turn to spare him any more looks for the rest of the class.

It went like this for three more weeks, you avoided him at school, at parties if you went and didn’t pick any of his calls or replied to his messages.

Until one Friday night. Noah saw you walk in the direction of a bathroom, so he followed you, feeling like a creep waiting for you outside. When you opened the door and wanted to leave he stopped you.

“5 minutes. Give me 5 minutes and then I’ll leave you alone.” to this day you’re sure it was the alcohol in your system that let you let him take you back to the bathroom and lock the door.

“I know you’re angry, I would be too. Before we left that night, Folio brought the bet up after a long time. We used to do it in our first year with girls we took home for a hookup. He and the boys were mocking me and telling me we should start doing it again. They asked about you, but I promise I didn’t tell them anything. Before or after the night.” he spoke quickly, scared he’ll run out of time and you’ll leave.

“I don’t wanna blame it on them or on the alcohol, but I was an idiot and said yes, but I regretted it immediately. I felt bad even when we left, but after we started kissing I forgot about the stupid bet and just wanted to feel good. To make you feel good. I didn’t expect you to let me do what we did in the cab and it just made me eager to get more from you, but because I wanted it. I never had this kind of relationship with anyone before, because no other girl ever made me feel like I want to take her home again. I enjoyed the night we spent together and I hope you did too. I wouldn’t take it back, spending that time with you. The next day I texted them I’m not part of that bet anymore and that they can have my money to shut up about it.” he reached for his phone and showed you their group chat from the day after that night.

You didn’t need him to prove to you his actions like this, but it was nice seeing he told you the truth. The other guys tried to get information from him, but he didn’t say anything except that he won’t tell them any more details about his sex life.

“I thought that was it, that they’re gonna stop or continue without me. I didn’t expect them to talk to you about it, because I didn’t think they were that stupid. I promise  I never had bad intentions with you and I never told them anything about you. I’m sorry for this whole thing and I’ll understand if you want to end this and stop seeing each other.” he finished his speech and looked at you with puppy eyes.

You didn’t know what to say, you believed him he was sorry and that he didn’t tell his friends anything about you. By the way Folio was so open with speaking his mind, you’d know if he knew something.

You also didn’t want to be sad and angry over some bet made by stupid frat boys, who in the end, didn’t get anything from it.

“Did you give Folio that black eye?” you asked Noah.

“Yeah, right after we had that fight.”

“And he still talks to you?”

“What? He deserved it.” Noah was confused with your reaction, but anything was better than silence.

“It was stupid and it hurt me. I felt humiliated when Nina told me about the bet. Even if you didn’t tell them anything, you’re still an idiot.”

“I am.” he agreed. “Folio wants to apologize to you too by the way.”

“Oh, didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah.” Noah put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, not sure what to do with them as silence took over the small room.

“I accept your apology Noah, but I don’t think I can go back to how it used to be. Not now, I need time to process all of this.”

—

The next day Folio stood at your door with flowers in his hands and looked at a child who did something bad with Noah behind him, like his dad making sure the apology is delivered.

His apology was surprisingly good and seemed honest that you accepted it and the flowers.

You also never told about any of this to Molly and Clara, because you were sure Molly would bite all of their heads off.

It took you more time to get over this completely and also information from Nina that after that night they agreed to end with that bet for good.

Noah stopped spamming you with texts and calls, only sent you funny videos from time to time.

You only spent a few nights with him before it all went downhill, but you missed it. He seemed like a nice guy to be around, you always had something to talk about before you fell asleep and he always had midnight snacks ready.

It also took a few Fridays of just making out in the bathroom in the frat house or in the back of his car until you let him take you back to his place again.

Looking back at it you can share a laugh about the situation and you made Noah promise to never do shit like that again, but you’re glad you decided to give him a second chance, because you both became each other’s close person and your friendship grew into something more than just friends with benefits with time.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

This story is a work of fiction, with the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. Please do not steal or repost this work on other platforms without permission.

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[iimplicitt]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET PT. I | CL16

part one - part two

charles leclerc x fem!character

a/n: i feel bad for charles in this one whoops. inspired by dirty little secret by nessa barrett. part two will def have some good luck, babe! undertones. this is short and not that sweet. enjoy the angst

requests open

wc: 1.4k

His phone lit up in the dark room, casting the space in blue luminescence. He knew who it was, he didn’t need to check. It was practically routine any time she came to a race weekend. Charles was at her beck and call, always groveling. It had been that way for years.

Her dirty little secret, kept hidden from the world. He was hers. Charles kept telling himself he was okay with that but every now and then that little creature would crawl up from the depth of his mind, reminding him that she wasn’t his.

It wasn’t like they were completely unknown. To everyone else they were just friends. Supportive and caring. Nothing more, nothing less. Charles had to stand there and watch as she ran off with another guy every now and then. Confused but willing when she’d still call him to meet up, knowing it was wrong but not caring because he was selfish that way. He’d greedily take whatever parts of herself she’d give him.

Besides, he was doing it to himself at this point. She’d been up front the moment they decided to cross the boundaries of what had been an innocent friendship. They had lied there, tangled up in his sheets with city lights gleaming outside of whatever hotel they had been in. Her head rested against his chest and he drew circles into her back.

“Don’t give me your heart,” she had whispered. A warning. Either for him or herself, he didn’t know.

Charles didn’t think much of it until the next day when they were in the paddock and he’d gone for her hand. A little hurt when she slipped away from him, sparing him a glance before walking away to go talk to Lando.

He understood quickly enough when he found them making out later that night in a club.

They weren’t meant to be known, it was just for fun. She told him he could back out whenever he wanted with no hard feelings. They could just be friends, like usual.

He never said no when she called.

Never said no when she pulled him into her room by his shirt, mouth crashing onto his. Saying no never crossed his mind when his hands danced up beneath her skirt.

When baby had slipped out of his mouth one day he hadn’t noticed until she paused and looked at him. Her expression unreadable, her eyes a little sad. Or maybe it was pity.

“What’re you doing that for?”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know what to say. That kind of intimacy isn’t what she wanted. At least not from him. “Sorry,” he muttered, watching as she turned away from him and texted on her phone. Her new boyfriend, or not quite. Considering they had sex last night, the hickeys Charles left on her hidden beneath her shirt.

He knew what he was doing was awful. But he kept telling himself one day he wouldn’t have to sneak out the backdoor of her house when her boyfriend got home early. That one day it would be his own home she woke up in. He wanted lazy mornings with her. He wanted to take her out, dance, kiss her with reckless abandon.

Charles was patient, he could wait. She’d realise soon enough she didn't need to find comfort in others. Part of him felt like she knew already but was just pushing off the inevitable. It was scary, giving yourself over to someone so completely. He knew in their case it was a bit complicated. Years of pushing and pulling, what ifs and attraction neither wanted to address.

They were best friends, nothing would change that and he knew he’d always be there for her. Despite the distance she tried to put between them sometimes, he knew she’d always have his back.

Monaco had been a dangerous test on his self control. After he won and he saw her from where he was standing on the top step of the podium, smiling at him with tears in her eyes, he ran to her afterwards. Picking her up and spinning her around, the sound of her laughter was heaven in his ears. Charles nearly kissed her, but he caught the warning in her eyes before he did. There are eyes around. Not here. Have you lost your mind?

He was nearly tempted to do it anyway, but after a moment he set her down, using all of his will power to remove his hands from her waist.

“Thank you for being here,” he said instead. Still happy of course, but his smile a little less bright. Hesitant. Not knowing how to act around her.

She gave him her own quiet grin, reaching a hand out to squeeze his own and he felt his heart trip over itself before she let go. “I know how much this race means to you.”

He nodded, taking in any of the small doses of affection she doled out to him.

Though later at the after party, when his eyes danced around looking for her like always, his heart melting a little when he saw her laughing and drinking with Oscar’s girlfriend, he took a few steps forward before coming to an abrupt halt.

Carlos came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist, comfortable. Familiar. She leaned into him, tilting her head back to let him kiss her.

It felt as if the world had been yanked out from under his feet. Hurtling through space, the lack of oxygen making his head spin. His teammate? Really?

When the opportunity arose as he saw her walking off to the bathroom, he came up behind her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

She blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the sudden aggression. But as her eyes flicked over his face her lips pressed into a line. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Carlos? Seriously?”

She yanked her arm out of his hold, her brows furrowing as if he were being unreasonable. “What’s wrong with Carlos?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed he was being a little unreasonable. All the times he knew she was in a relationship but he still happily obliged whatever desire she wanted, went down on her whenever she asked, let her nails rake down his back and when he’d pull on her hair the way she liked, when she moaned his name instead of her boyfriend’s… he hadn’t batted an eye.

Lando had admittedly hurt a bit, but he knew it wasn’t much between them. A fling. Excuses were all Charles made. But his teammate? That felt too close. Too real. Too personal even, because why not him? Why not ever just him?

She sighed, as if reading his mind. “Charles,” she started slowly. Tip toeing around the topic. Because he knew she knew. He’d known she’s known for a while now. She knew he was in love with her.

“Listen, I didn’t mean for this to get this far.” She gestured between them and he could feel his heart beating in his ears. “And we have fun, a lot and it’s always been nice but I don’t need to be this grand love of your life.”

He closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he hadn’t come out tonight. Wishing he was anywhere else.

He flinched when he felt her hand gently cup the side of his face, eyes opening to meet hers and he already knew what she was going to say.

“We don’t have to be in love, Charles.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but what? What else was there to say? He’d been a fool, he knew that. She warned him from the start but he had blindly held onto hope.

“I don’t want to be in love.” Her hand fell from his face and she stepped away from him. “Not with you.”

Charles stood there. His ears were ringing. Dazed. Dizzy. Watching as she went off to Carlos, falling into him so easily and smiling as he kissed her.

He should’ve blocked her number. Should’ve deleted it.

When his phone rang two weeks later he stared at it for a moment. Hating her. Hating Carlos a little bit, which he knew wasn’t fair.

He hated himself as he picked up, muttering a Hello and I’ll be over in ten minutes.

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Nightfall (5)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1// Part 2// Part 3// Part 4

Warnings: Smut, oral (f), orgasm denial, angst, brief mentions of torture and death.

A/N: Friendly reminder that if you want to see more of something you need to interact with it, and not in a detached way.

Shit, you were gonna beg him.

There was a twisting in your stomach, screaming for pleasure, quaking at the concept of his touch- of his fucking tongue.

You make an annoyed grunt, dropping your fork, hearing it clatter on the porcelain plate.

You press both hands to your face, trying to think about something else- anything else- other than him.

It doesn’t work, you try to think about escape, and the reminder of his teasing smile pops up in response.

Your hands move up, and into your hair, gripping it hard, trying to stop this burning, this heavy desire to submit to him, beg for him, come for him.

Him, him, him.

You pull on your hair harder when your mind jumps to thoughts of his cock, the way it looks as it’s slipping into you, filling every inch of you.

The reminder is so potent you almost cum from just the fucking memory.

This was it.

You were going to give in.

You stand, angry, turning to his room. He’d left you behind to have a shower while you ate breakfast, and you were going to get on your knees and beg for him the moment he stepped out.

A knock on the door stops you cold in your tracks.

You turn, wide eyed, staring at the door.

Another knock, calm and cool and perhaps a little impatient.

Do you open it? Definitely not.

You hear Billy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Can you get that for me?” he asks.

“Okay.” You murmur softly, knowing that he hears you.

You unlock the door cautiously, pulling it open.

The first thing you see is a broad chest. Tilting your head up, you find a handsome man staring back at you. His nose is slightly crooked, probably having been broken one too many times.

Instinctively, your training kicks in, you wait a few moments, eyes locked on him in a silent challenge. He doesn't breathe, his body perfectly still, making a quiet assessment of you as you do him.

“You the hunter?” He finally says, his voice deep, an air of danger wrapped around him.

“Maybe.” You finally say, taking a step back, widening the door to let him step in.

Behind him, is a very beautiful woman. She's got flowing brown hair, that makes you think of hot chocolate on a cold night.

She smiles at you, and you feel a soft shock go through your body at how stunning she really is.

She introduces herself as Maria, with a hand outstretched you reach to shake it, subtly pressing your fingers to her wrist, feeling a pulse. 

You supply your own name, wondering if this was the paired couple Billy had told you about.

Billy walks in a second later, a towel on his shoulder, while he scrubs at his hair.

You blink, looking away for a second, remembering how just moments ago you were about to crawl begging to him.

Your ears hum, you realise there’s a silent conversation happening between the two supernaturals in the room. You press your teeth together, trying not to lash out at the rudeness before knowing anything.

Billy says your name, introducing his friend, Frank to you. You can’t help sizing him up.

You definitely could not take him in a fight.

There’s power to him, just like Billy, a charge in the air around him that warns you, he would not be messed with. Where Billy might toy with you playfully, he would exterminate you if you so much as moved in a way he didn’t like.

“I asked Maria to help you find some things for the event next week, and anything else you might want.” Billy explains smoothly looking at you.

You incline your head, looking at him. Petra, the vampire at the club, had told him of a date, time and place of an auction for vampires wanting to get high quality blood from humans.

You’d initially thought it would be similar to human trafficking, but Billy had informed you, that the method of gathering humans was something more coercive in nature.

If that many humans had actually gone missing, lots of people would notice, so instead, these organisations had found shady ways to force people into debt, just so that they would benefit from it. 

Learning that, had made you wonder whether your organisation knew about it. You think if they did know, they wouldn’t stand idly by.

.

You'd been very surprised that Billy had intended for you to go with Maria alone. You'd stared at him in quiet disbelief when he'd said it, and he'd met your gaze evenly.

This had to be a test, no doubt he would be following you from afar or something waiting for you to try escaping.

But as you swipe through gauzy lingerie, the absence of feeling watched puzzles you.

Some of these pieces were really cute, you pause to examine a gauzy soft blue set covered in little hearts. You give it a frown, thinking that it wasn’t too bad.

Billy had handed you his credit card before you’d left, not even saying a word to you about it. You’d been debating the right way to use it- should you just buy as much stuff as you could? Or barely buy anything but the essentials? 

In all honesty, you doubted he even cared. An immortal like him probably had more money than he knew what to do with.

Still, you stick to the essentials, your training demanding you pick functionality over anything you might really want.

When Maria watches you touch something gently for the fifth time, she finally speaks up about it.

“That’s cute.”

You blink, glancing at her before your eyes go back to the item in question- a sparkly red keychain in the shape of a heart. It would look nice with the tiny designer bag you’d been looking at earlier, one that was definitely not functional.

Shopping like this was unfamiliar to you, to desire something and be able to have it was definitely not an experience you’d had before.

“It’s a trinket.” You respond to her, moving on to look at something else.

“It might look pretty with that bag I saw earlier. The pink one.”

You make a hum of disinterest.

“How long have you and Frank been together?” You ask instead.

She tilts her head, turning away, and you acknowledge that your question might have come off rudely.

“Seventy years in November.” She answers, and you freeze, turning to study her with a look of confusion.

She doesn’t look up at you, examining a silk bra instead.

“How is that possible?” She couldn’t be older than thirty-two.

Maria’s gaze is kind as she finally looks at you, a little bit of amusement in the corners of her eyes.

“The bond prolongs my life.” She says, her eyes darting to study a woman walking by, “There are many things shared between us.”

“Like what?” You question, intrigued.

Maria smiles, turns back to look at you.

“That’s our secret, but it’s different for each bond anyway.”

You nod, turning away, a little miffed that you hadn’t gotten a straight answer from her.

“When did you find out… about him?”

“Um, maybe a few months into knowing each other? It did happen kind of fast. Frank had a… reputation… that sort of made me a target.”

You want to ask her what type of reputation, but you don’t think she'd be very forthcoming with the details. You assume it's related to whatever Billy’s involved in.

You study the silk robes, tracing your fingers over the soft material and sighing longingly.

“And… you don't have a problem with him being…”

“Different?” She finishes for you.

You hum in affirmation, trying not to argue with the word she chose. He wasn't just different, he was dangerous, deadly, bloodthirsty. It was like having a snake in bed beside you that could take you out at any given moment if you angered it just enough.

“I've seen throughout the years more humanity in him than in actual living people.”

Your first instinct is to disagree, yet there's a hope that spins inside of you, that maybe she was right.

You exhale, shaking your head, confused about what you wanted.

You put it out of your mind for now, deciding to focus on the mission at hand, and put your feelings aside the way you were trained to do.

It works up until you step through the doors of his apartment, and your eyes meet his.

Maria happily jumps into Frank’s arms, while Billy calmly approaches you.

You place some of your bags down, reaching into your back pocket for his credit card.

“Did you get everything you wanted?”

You nod, a swollen feeling in your throat as you extend the card to him.

He glances down at it, and then back at you.

“Keep it.” He murmurs, turning away.

You pause for a second, unsure of what to do, pocketing the card so that you can leave it on his nightstand or something.

“When is the rest coming?” Billy asks.

“The rest?” You question.

Maria looks over at Billy, having overheard the question.

“That's everything.” She says to him.

He pauses, turning to look at her. You watch the exchange, feeling very confused.

“That's it?”

Maria gives him a slow nod.

He pauses, before glancing at you. You get the feeling that you're missing something important, but you can't figure out what.

You glance away, pretending to study the microwave as if it’s just said something gravely important to you while you can feel his eyes on you.

“I appreciate your help, Frank, Maria.” Billy says, and in your peripherals, you see him approach them, patting Frank on the back, and leaning in to press a kiss to Maria’s temple.

It’s an amount of affection you weren’t expecting to see, and when Frank approaches you, you stiffen automatically.

He extends a hand, and though his gesture is friendly, his eyes are warning you not to make the wrong move.

You swallow, shaking his hand, returning his firm grip with one of your own, and then he slides right past you, allowing his arguably better half to bid you goodbye as well.

Maria is much warmer, despite the cold way you treated her today, and it makes you feel like a jerk, to have kept her at arm’s length.

“Goodbye.” You say softly, and she gives you a knowing smile, before she’s out the door.

You wait a beat, because you know Frank can probably still hear any words you decide to speak.

“I feel bad,” You finally say, “I wasn’t the nicest to her today.”

“Don’t worry,” Billy murmurs, “She understands.”

Your shoulders drop, in hopes that you would get another chance to be her friend, picking up your bags and taking them in the direction of the spare bedroom.

“No.” Billy says, his voice echoing clearly through the open room.

You stop in your tracks, rolling your eyes before adjusting your course for his room instead.

He follows behind, and stands at the doorway when you drop the bags in question onto the bed.

“Why didn’t you get more?” He asks, arms crossed studying you.

You glance up at him as you tug a short summer dress out of one bag, preparing to snip the tags off and make it more comfortable to wear.

“More what? I didn't need more.” You answer, feeling defensive all of a sudden.

“Do you have a scissors?” 

“Bathroom. Top drawer. You told me you got everything you wanted. Was that true?”

“What-” You let out a frustrated breath, dropping the dress on the bed, “What does that mean?”

“I wanted you to buy anything you liked, but I get the feeling that you held back a lot.”

You walk to the attached en suite bathroom, grabbing the scissors from where he said it was.

“Because I didn't have more bags?” You pick up the dress, clipping the tags, and any extra labeling that would stick you.

“I was hoping, that you'd try to make this place more like home.”

Your breath stalls in your chest.

“Well it isn't. My home is a secluded base, with four walls and a cot that fits just me, and the water is freezing on mornings but that's better for you anyway. My bed is lumpy and old and sometimes smells like someone died on it but that’s because all the funding goes into medicine for us when we get injured. I’m not some kept woman, that you can just send out and treat nicely whenever it suits you. I’m a soldier.”

You turn away to avoid his gaze. It feels as though he can see right through you in this moment. As if you’ve been pried apart and all the things that make you tick have been exposed.

Carefully, you tug his credit card out of your pocket, placing it onto the nightstand as if it’s a bomb that is going to go off at any given moment.

“I was a soldier too.” Billy finally says.

You blink, reaching for the next dress in the bag to snip the tags off. 

He comes around the bed, gripping your shoulders to turn you to him. You let the dark material fall to your feet as he grips your chin, raising your head to his.

“I was a killing machine long before I had fangs. I would have done anything to serve my cause. You know where that got me? These scars.”

You finally focus on his words, eager to soak in any ounce of himself that he’s willing to give.

“I was captured, tortured, dumped into a shallow grave and left for dead. I clawed my way out, crawled through the forest, bleeding and broken when I was found and changed. Turns out, they knew where I was the whole time and they just didn’t care. Wouldn’t even consider a rescue mission for me and other guys that were caught.”

He shakes his head.

“They don’t care about you. They never have. You’re just another body to them, useful until you’re not and then you’re replaceable.”

You already knew this.

“The cause-”

“-Fuck the cause!” He hisses, his teeth sharpening in anger, “Can’t you see that you matter more?”

You shake your head in denial. He cups your face with both hands, walking you back until you're pressed against his bedroom wall.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. I know you’ve never heard it before so I’ll say it to you now.” His eyes are dark, so human that you almost forget.

“You mean more to me than any fucking ideology. I would give everything up for you.”

“You don’t even know me.” You challenge.

He leans in, kissing you harshly, mouth tingling at the feeling of his lips on yours.

“I know enough.”

He kisses you again, and again, moaning into your mouth, drinking your breathy sighs eagerly.

You raise a hand, hanging onto his shoulder, letting yourself surrender to this feeling… a wholeness that you can’t fathom.

“You don't know anything about me, you filthy, fanged bloodsucker.” You grunt between kisses.

He laughs into your mouth, his hand fisting a handful of your hair.

“I know you like warm blankets, and you mumble in your sleep, and what your cunt tastes like, and how wet you get for me anytime you so much as look in my direction.”

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation and he groans.

He spins you, the front of your body against the wall now, cheek pressed to the cold concrete, your hands pulled behind your back and held there by his hand on your wrists.

“I know that you like to stop and smell the flowers on display anytime you walk past a flower shop, and that you'd go out of your way to step on a crunchy leaf.”

“You know that cause you're a fucking stalker.” You grunt, feeling him lean in, delight spreading through you when he licks across your cheek.

He tugs at your shirt, exposing your neck, he kisses over your bite scar gently, and you shudder as bliss moves right through you, forcing your toes to curl.

“You know why you like it when I kiss you here?” He emphasizes his words by pressing his lips softly to the silvery scar in question. Your eyes roll back in your head, drawing in a breath, desperately searching for sanity.

“It's where we first connected, where you first let yourself be vulnerable for me.”

You grunt, feeling anger and desire roll inside of you.

“And when were you ever vulnerable?” You shoot back, opening your eyes to peer back at him.

He releases your wrists and you turn to face him, a smug look of satisfaction on your face for having made a decent argument.

You're taken aback a little when he pulls his shirt off, tossing it onto the bed behind him.

“Here.” He reaches for your hand, pressing it to the center of his chest.

Your eyebrows draw together, moving your hand a little to study the spot right in the center of his chest. Sure enough, there's a silvery mark, just like yours, in the shape of a star.

Where you stabbed him, you realise, back in your other apartment, when you’d pressed the stake to his chest and he’d pulled you closer. That, was his first vulnerable moment with you. 

You lean forward, wondering why you never noticed it until now, and it’s probably because you weren’t even looking, that all of his other scars, had done a good job at hiding this one.

You press your lips to it, you can feel the vibration of his long winded groan against your lips. For the first time, you not only feel like his, but he also feels like yours.

“You could have killed me then, and I might have died peacefully to escape the torment of wanting you.”

You reach up, pressing your hands to each side of his maddening face to pull him into a kiss, pressing your tongue into his mouth at the first moment you can.

Billy groans, picking you up easily, legs wrapped around his hips, walking you to the bed before he drops you into the middle, halfway on your bags.

He pulls your shirt up, and you let him, not wanting to be far from his mouth at all, the tips of your fingers tracing his scars as you feel your passion mirrored by him.

He kisses over your chest, gripping your wrists to pin them beside your head, before you know it, your hands are restrained by something else.

He’s used the scarf on the designer bag you’d bought to tie your wrists together above your head, the silk has no give, and he’s knotted the fabric so securely that there’s no hope of freeing yourself on your own.

Your jeans is unbuttoned next, tugged down your legs, and then he grips your delicate underwear with his teeth and tugs harshly until you hear it rip.

Thank god, you think, as he settles his body between your legs, his mouth leaving cool kisses on the inside of your thighs. You mewl, pressing your hips up, desperate to feel his magnificent tongue on you.

“God, you’re dripping.” He murmurs, almost too low for you to hear.

He’s careful, pressing his tongue to your clit, your breath catching in your throat as he moans against you.

You sigh his name, as he licks you, speeding up and slowing down to prolong the torment.

You can’t stop the little sounds, which only worsen when you feel him begin to slowly press a lone finger into you, the pace too slow and shallow to be of any real use.

A sob catches in your throat, trying to relax as best you could, unable to stop your hips from undulating against his fingers and tongue. 

He guides another finger into you, and you shudder, desperate to feel the bliss he’s capable of, after not having him for so long.

“Don’t come.” He orders, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently, before he pauses to watch you.

“I can’t-” You cry, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes with the way it stings to deny yourself. 

You can feel the mess you make, of yourself, approaching your high too slowly for your liking.

You gasp when he withdraws, body shaking as you watch him undo his belt, pushing his pants down to free his leaking cock.

He’s so thick, the reminder of what he can do with such a glorious appendage makes you clench with need.

He grips your thighs, pulling your body against his, and you gasp when he ruts his cock against your swollen bud.

“That’s it, baby, feel me.”

You nod eagerly as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You suck in a deep breath, and he smiles proudly down at you as he presses his cock in.

You’re quite loud, unintentionally so, and you maybe feel a little ashamed of sounding so desperate, but the very feeling of him pushing into you, filling you right up to the brim and holding himself there for a long, shaky moment, is enough to have you clenching around him, on the verge of orgasm.

Billy reaches for you, grips your jaw, giving you a proper shake to get your attention.

“Don’t.” He warns, his eyes are the colour of ruby gems, “Not tonight.”

You suck in a sharp breath. He wasn’t going to let you come tonight?!

You begin to wriggle in protest, he reaches down to pin your hips in place, sliding his cock out, to ease himself back in.

“You feel so good baby- fuck-” He leans in to press his mouth to yours, his tongue claiming you boldly.

“Suffer with me.” He begs against your mouth.

You’re not sure what he means, but you nod, forehead to forehead, his cock swollen and heavy inside of you, tears of want in your eyes and yet you nod like a fool when he tells you no.

You pant when he moves, barely able to control yourself, you breathe in his musky scent, letting everything about him overpower you.

He growls, delivering one harsh thrust that makes you cry out, holding himself there for long moments, making you wish he would just put you out of your misery.

You struggle, trying to tug your arms free, deciding instead to place your bound hands over his head, gripping his hair in your hands.

His hands tighten on your hips, the pain of his grip only adding to your pleasure.

He moves slowly, out of rhythm, keeping you balanced right on the edge of pleasure and torment. 

When the denial is too much, you pull his hair hard, hearing him grunt out a laugh, understanding the message you’re trying to convey.

He withdraws slowly, and you swear the emptiness will destroy you.

You pant, looking up into his dark eyes, demanding an explanation. 

He releases the hold on your hips, leaning in to kiss you softly.

He noses at your neck, and you tilt your head reflexively to give him the space he needs to feed from you.

You feel him shake his head against you, nose dragging softly.

“Please.” You whisper, wanting to feel his teeth pierce your skin.

His teeth settle on your neck, a low groan leaves him, before he bites.

He’s quick about it, your skin only starting to sting and throb when he’s two mouthfuls in.

He hums around a swallow, before withdrawing, pressing the fabric of his shirt into your wound.

“I can taste the frustration in your blood, poor thing.” He murmurs, lifting his shirt to lick at the open wounds.

“But god, you still taste so fucking good.”

.

.

.

[ann-writes-universes]

Archangel (AzrielxReader) REMASTER Pt. 4

A/N: Annnndddd the next parts will be NEW. Thank you all again, from the deepest parts of me <3

W/C: IDK prob like 4.3k again.

Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Violence (As always let me know if I forgot anything.)

“So you’ve made progress with her?”

“Something like that…”

“I wouldn’t call it progress, Amren.”

“Shut up Azriel,” Amren spit in reply “She’s gotten better than when we started a month ago.”

“I worry about her being in that cabin alone.” Rhysand spoke from his desk, his hands folded under his chin. A crease had taken up permanent residence in between his brows since the beginning of this discussion with his friends and It was growing deeper the more they argued over the Beddor sister.

“We are with her nearly every day, Rhysand.” Azriel reminded him softly from his spot by the door. He leaned against the wall, lazily twirling Truthteller in his left hand.

“And when we aren’t, she writes us or bakes. It’s not like she’s going insane out there.” Amren chided, pulling her legs beneath her in the chair she sat in before Rhysand’s desk. She was staring him down, willing him to listen to her.

“Yes, but Feyre…”

“Feyre is not (y/n), Rhysand.” Azriel butted in, promptly stopping his motions with his blade to stare his brother down.

“Yes, I know.” Rhysand swallowed, narrowing his gaze on Azriel’s features. As always, they were guarded, hard to read. “But she worries.”

“If time is what the girl wants, give it to her.” Amren concluded, bracing herself on the arms of the chair as she made to stand up and leave. With a singular motion of his hand Rhysand dismissed her idea and had her settling back in her seat.

“Seal the room Az.” And with those words, a thick wall of shadows had encapsulated the room and all threes’ mental shields had been snapped into place.

“With it becoming increasingly clear that all three of them, gained something from the cauldron, I worry that Hybern will come after them. The cabin is safe but Feyre wants (y/n) here, for her own peace of mind,” He cleared his throat then and shifted uncomfortably in his seat “I feel like it would be good for yours as well, Brother.”

The males’ eyes met and Azriel’s jaw tightened. Amren glanced between the two of them, her eyes slowly widening.

“I didn’t even smell it on you Az.” She whispered, twisting her body to face him more fully. He was nervously flipping the blade around now, an emotion that didn’t suit his collected exterior.

“That’s because it hasn’t been accepted.” Rhysand spoke, his voice soft.

“Are you going to tell her?”

Azriel looked to the floor and sheathed his knife, a crease akin to Rhysand’s taking place on his face. After a moment he shook his head softly and ran his hands through his hair, he was agitated.

“No. No, I can’t.”

“You saw how that plan of action went for me… Feyre hardly spoke to me when I finally told her.” It was a gentle reminder from the High lord, but it irritated the spymaster none the less.

“Feyre and (y/n) are different, Rhysand. She has hardly accepted the fact that she’s a fae with capabilities we hardly understand. How do you think she would take it if I told her she was cosmically tied to me by the hands of a creator she doesn’t even believe in?”

Amren and Rhysand both went lax at Azriel’s words, understanding marked their features but a thick air of unease had settled over the room. Shadows picked nervously at Azriel’s shoulders, informing him that the other residents of the townhouse had grown anxious at the trios prolonged absence.

“Feyre wants to know what’s going on Rhys.”

“And I will tell her, but this is your decision to make.”

“No. Its not. Its (y/n)’s.”

Rhysand nodded grimly at his brother’s words and with a sigh he leaned back in his chair, twisting it to face the window that led out to the courtyard beyond. The snow was melting with the fast-approaching Spring and Elain’s flowers were struggling to bloom.

“She needs to know what kind of danger she is potentially in. If Hybern can track the couldron’s magic he will do everything in his power to get the three of them back.” Amren spoke, her eyes were distantly trained on the carpet, her hands tapping a mindless melody on the wooden chair’s arm. “I think it would be smart to train her in combat.”

“Absolutely not.” Azriel snapped, pushing away from the wall he leaned on.

“No… she’s right Az. We will do everything in our power to keep her safe, but war is coming wether we like it or not. Her magic is young and from what you both have told me, her ability to harness it is 30/70.” Rhysand’s eyes were distant too, mulling over the melting snow and muddy grass.

“I don’t think she’s ready to be thrown into a ring with Cas and taught to fight. She’s done enough of that.”

“And what happened to it being her decision?” Amren whispered, her gaze finally finding the wide-eyed stare of the Shadowsinger. “What about it being hers?”

---

The fire crackled in the hearth, warming the cabin and casting lazy shadows on the living room. From your spot on the couch, you watched with little intrigue as the light flickered about the room.

Joining in with the ember’s glow was a small white light, that zipped about and searched the cabin readily. From the outside, darkened windows would light up from within briefly before going dark once more. You watched this little light with a soft smile before calling it back to your palm, relishing in the warmth it created there before dying out.

“Impressive.” Amren cooed, happily stretched out on a chase lounge, mindlessly sipping the tea you had made for her when she had arrived moments before.

“Thank you, not sure how it’s useful but it’s kind of cool.” You replied, letting your gaze find hers finally. She was a picture of relaxation, splayed across the furniture, sipping her tea and twirling her short hair with a ringed finger.

“What is it Amren?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” You sat up a little, shifting the blanket over your legs “But you’ve never come out here so late.” She smiled tightly at your words and sat up herself, bracing her forearms on her knees as she stared at you.

“How would you feel about coming back to Velaris?”

It caught you off guard, and she knew as much from the way your face blanked and your eyes shot to the fire once more.

“I know you still don’t feel ready but-“

“Im not.”

“(Y/n)…”

“Amren. I have enjoyed you and Azriel’s company. I have appreciated Rhysand and Feyre’s generosity but a part of me being able to heal is not having to watch them every day.” Your hands were fiddling with the frayed edges of the blanket, your mind slowly beginning to drift to a far away place.

“I understand, and I wouldn’t be asking you to return if I didn’t feel it necessary for your safety.”

Your stomach flipped.

“What the hell are you talking about?”                                                                                      Amren sighed and looked to the flames, running a delicate hand over the linen fabric of her pants. How was she not cold?

“When you and the Archeron sisters were… made. Hybern didn’t anticipate for the three of you to take things from the cauldron. Rhysand worries that Hybern will try and track your magic and…” She trailed off, a tight line replacing her easy-going smile.

“And what Amren?”

“And reclaim it.”

The finality in her words turned your spine into steel. With shaky hands you tossed the blanket aside and stood. Your hands rubbed over your face and suddenly your mind was racing with millions of questions.

“Will he?”

“Hmm?”

“Will Hybern try and take it from me?”

“We don’t know for sure, but Fe- Rhysand thinks it would be safer for you in Velaris, its impossible to penetrate those wards and its closer to us if anything were to happen.”

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest. Mulling over the possibilities and the smart thing to do.

No part of you wanted to be surrounded by seawater and concrete again and yet, the possibility of being in that house, watching as your dream was lived by someone other than you seemed just as suffocating. Amren watched as you paced the room, giving you time to think and praying that Azriel wasn’t freezing to death wherever he was outside.

You had summoned that little light again, and it was flitting nervously about the room. Soft plink, plink, plinks sounding each time it careened with a window and bounced off of it. Summoning it back to you, you let it dance between your fingers, grounding yourself in the warmth it produced.

“I’ll go.”

“You will?”

“I’ll go.”

“Rhysand has offered for you to stay in the house of Wind. It’s away from the city and large enough for you to have privacy. He has also asked if you would be willing to train in self-defense with Cassian.” Amren was standing now, watching you with a soft smile. It was encouraging, bordering on pleading.

You nodded your head and urged the light to die away in your palm, the warmth quickly receding.

“When will we leave?”

“Tonight.”

--

The House of Wind was breathtaking.

Cassian had flown you in, and you had been met with Rhysand who gave you a private tour of the luxurious quarters you would be living in. It was open, airy, and entirely unlike the cramped space you had envisioned when Amren explained that it was built into a mountain.

That little revelation had nearly made you change your mind, though now you were glad you hadn’t.

“There are sparring grounds on the roof where Cassian will train with you. Nothing too insane I promise.” Rhysand chuckled, guiding you back to the main living space. Jasmine and clean linen permeated the air, and the warming breeze of the spring was drifting through the open windows.

“No one else is staying here, correct?”

“No one who will bother you. Cassian lives here year round, and per Elain’s request Lucien has been sent here for some… distance.”

You nodded and sunk into a chair in the living area the tour had stopped in. Rhysand perched on the arm of a chair opposite of you and folded his hands on a knee. His brows were furrowed as he watched your eyes roam over the room, your shoulders slumped and your teeth mulling over a hang nail anxiously.

“Whats on your mind?”

And when you caught his gaze a breath snagged in your throat. It looked the same as it had that night in your family home. Concern, if not pity, was flashing in those violet eyes and you looked away from them, a hard knot forming in the center of your chest. Clearing your throat, you shook your head and forced a smile. It felt out of place, plastic on your features.

“Nothing. A bit tired and overwhelmed is all, thank you for the tour, I think I will be going to bed now.”

He didn’t push the subject any further, but as you stood and made your way to the room, he had deemed yours, you felt a pair of eyes boring holes into your back.

--

 “Please quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” Azriel replied, lazily leaned against a rocky wall in the hallway.

“Like Im some kind of four eyed freak.” You grumbled, shoving past him towards the stairs. Your hair was braided neatly and the trousers and top you wore were tightly fitted, a sharp contrast to the oversized knits you had been sporting since your arrival in the Night court.

‘Not having fabric in your way is more conducive to noobie training’ Cassian had said the night before. Though part of you felt as though it was some plot to see if you were actually shaped like something other than a worn out cardigan.

“Ive just never seen you so….”

“Defeated?”

“Encouraged. I have never seen you so encouraged.”

You stopped, a foot on the stairs and turned halfway to face him. He had followed you, light on his feet as ever and was stopped a few paces away from the stairs himself. His brow was creased and those almond-colored eyes were searching yours, for what you weren’t sure.

“Azriel, what the fuck does that even mean.” You replied, a brow raised.

“Just that you don’t look entirely miserable about a five AM training session with the biggest Illyrian known to man. You look almost… excited.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes, hyper aware of his shadow as you began to ascend the stairs to the roof. Excited was certainly not the word to describe the feeling you had as you were met with the gentle glow of the rising sun and the bright beam of Cassian’s smile.

Terrified would be a better term to fit the current mood.

“Have you ever played with Knives before?” Cassian questioned from his place on the roof.

Yes, terrified.

“This ought to be great.” Azriel grumbled, moving to his seat outside of the sparring ring. He was meant to mediate, make sure you didn’t get killed. You had thought that notion absolutely absurd when he brought it up first thing in the hallway, but as Cassian unsheathed a knife from his thigh and turned his wolfish gaze on your frame, you stiffened.

Yes, terrified was a much better word.

“Do I look like someone who has played with Knives much?” You choked out, swallowing thickly. Had your throat been this dry all morning?

Cassian ran his eyes over you, no doubt taking in the absurdity of the way you looked. Some weight had begun to return to your frame, but by no means had your figure recovered from the past year. In comparison to the general you were tiny, fragile. His brows furrowed and his smirk loosened to a softened smile. Sighing he sheathed the knife and walked towards you, his hands on his hips. 

“No. No you dont.” He glanced at Azriel, who merely shrugged and leaned back in his chair, basking in the rising warmth of the morning sun. His wings were splayed behind him and his arms were folded tightly across his chest. “Thanks for the help, Brother.” 

You watched the two of them, your own arms crossed over your chest protectively. Cassian seemed to be weighing his options, trying to figure out how to teach you something when you knew absolutely nothing. His brows were furrowed tightly as he thought and he had taken up a position similar to yours, arms crossed over his chest, legs stanced as he leaned into his hip. 

You were growing antsy, anxious at the thought of being helpless in even such a docile situation. Azriel was in his own world, eyes closed and chest rising slower and slower. Great, you had bored him to sleep and Cassian looked pissed because this seemed to be wasting his time. 

With no further thought you shot forward, using the size difference between you and the general to snatch his sheathed weapon and duck away from his swinging arm, a violent habit encoded in his warrior brain. 

“What the fuck?!” He shouted as you crashed to the ground on your knees, clutching the blade in your left hand firmly. You were panting, absolutely in shock you had pulled that off. Cassian had spun towards you and was staring at you wide eyed. 

From his spot, Azriel opened a single eye and chuckled at the sight before shutting it once more. Standing, you dusted off your knees and handed the blade back. 

“Now. Please quit standing there and teach me something.” You huffed, resting your hands on your hips. Cassian stared down at you, the blade resting in his hand loosely. Spinning it back into place at his thigh he merely nodded and motioned for you to step into the ring. 

“Well little Beddor. We’ll start with defense since you apparently have a death wish.” 

–

Pain. 

Every fiber of your body ached and groaned as you walked down the stairs. It had been four hours of training on the roof, a “short” day Cassian had said. How he was so unfazed, trailing behind you, you were unsure. At some point he had discarded his shirt and the only sign he had even been outside was a slight glimmer of sweat on his toned chest. Azriel had stayed the entire time, watching, sleeping, and making comments on form and technique when he thought necessary. 

“You did well (Y/N).” Cassian spoke, clapping your shoulder with a firm hand. You winced at the impact but nodded and bid he and Azriel farewell before slinking to the safety of your room. All you wanted was to peel the sweat sticky clothing off of your body and run a bath. Every inch of your skin was caked in red dust from the roof and the grime was beginning to make your head spin. 

Halfway through stripping off your pants, shirt discarded in a corner, a knock sounded at your door. Before you had a chance to yell it was creaking open, had you even closed it all the way?

“(Y/N), Cass wanted to know if you needed any-” Azriel stopped speaking. Your spine was rigid. You were faced away from him, an arm crossed over your chest, the other clutching the top of your pants tightly. 

Slowly, you turned your head over your shoulder, just enough to glance at him. He was halfway through the door, a hand on the handle and the other loosely hanging by his side. His wings were flared and his eyes were wide, nearly black from how blown his pupils were. He drug his eyes down your frame, every so slowly before dragging them upward once more. Swallowing thickly he shut his eyes tightly and turned his head towards the hallways. 

“Gods, Im sorry.” He choked out, moving to shut the door enough for you to have privacy. “Cass just wanted to know if you needed a poultice for soreness?” 

Cheeks heated to a new extreme, and hands shaking you turned away from the door and swallowed deeply. “Yes. That would be great. Thank you Azriel.” 

The spymaster didnt even deign a reply, he simply shut the door. Dropping your arms you let your pants fall to the floor and released a breath you were unaware you had been holding. 

–

“You walked in on her changing? So what. It was an accident Az.” Cass huffed, ducking away from his counterpart's swing. Azriel raised a brow and rolled away from the countering swing of the general’s leg. Catching his calf mid air, the spymaster stood and swept his partner to the ground. Chuckling when Cassian made impact and his breath was knocked clean from his chest. 

“Yes an accident but still…” Azriel panted, reaching out a hand to help him up. “I keep replaying it in my head.” 

“Well now you sound like a fucking creep.” Cassian countered, accepting the hand gratefully. Both males were sweating and panting like animals. The sun was baking the roof and their shirts had long been discarded. They had opted for hand to hand this training session, their weapons glimmering in the light, had been discarded as well. “She’s a pretty female, I’ll give her that. When was the last time you got some anyway Az? Maybe she’s the perfect outlet fo-” 

Azriel didn't even let him finish. All technique flew out the window and the shadowsinger lunged at his friend. The two males fell to the hard clay beneath and Cassian was firmly pinned beneath the press of Azriel’s knees. 

“Dont even fucking say it.” He growled. Cassian raised his arms above his head in submission and watched as Azriel stood, a brow raised. 

“What? I didnt mean anything by it, it was a joke.” Cassian sputtered, rising to his knees to catch his breath. Azriel was faced away from him, tugging his shirt on and strapping his blades back to his body. His shoulders were taught and any emotion once readable had been steeled away. “You act like she’s your-” 

Azriel cut his gaze towards his friend. There was a fire there that Cassian had not seen since they were children, fighting for their lives in the war camps. And then it dawned on him, his shoulders slumped and his mouth fell open in shock. “Brother- how long have you known?” 

Azriel turned away from Cassian once more and busied himself with the buckle of his belt. “Since the continent.” Was the only answer he gave before making his way towards the stairs. Cassian wasted no time in following him, haphazardly grabbing his shirt and belongings as he passed them. 

“Does she know?” He pressed, struggling to keep up with the brisk pace Az had set. “Are you going to tell her?” 

Azriel spun around to face him at the door to the stairs, a hand raised in his face. 

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.” 

“I would never.” He spoke, the males shared a look before Azriel merely nodded and made his descent. 

Cas watched him leave, his shoulders slumped and his items hanging loosely in his hands. A small light zipped into his view, and bobbed there. His brows creased and he reached for it, only to be burned upon contact. 

“What the fuck?” He whispered, stepping towards it. As he approached it slowly made its way towards the stairs before blinking out of existence entirely. 

–

You were sitting up in bed, legs crossed and hands pressed firmly into your knees. Eyes closed, forehead creased, you had never focused on that little light harder. In the cabin, it had been able to provide you glimpses of what it had seen, like highlight reels from the outside world. Now, as it made its way through the House of Wind you practiced grasping onto that information. 

Focusing hard enough you gathered that it could show you, and tell you. You heard the conversations of the servants as it zipped through the kitchens, the whispers of the maids as it tiptoed through faelights in different rooms, and the clanging of metal as it approached the roof. 

“Brother- how long have you known?”

“Since the continent.”

“No Cas. I’m not going to tell her. And I will fucking kill you if you do.” 

“I would never.”

Your eyes snapped open and that little light reappeared before you. It bobbed and spun in its place, like a dog happy to see its master after a long day’s separation. With a thought it blinked out of existence and you stared at where it had been without really seeing. He had known what? Had deigned not to tell you something? Azriel was your friend. Yes that much had been made clear over the weeks he had been with you at the cabin. The jokes and the conversations held in the safety of that wooden dwelling between the two of you and Amren. And yet he was hiding something that seemed important from you. 

Swallowing thickly you stood from the bed and made your way to the desk. Scribbling quickly onto a piece of paper you concentrated on willing it away into the awaiting hands of its receiver. When it disappeared into that mysterious universal fold you sunk into the desk chair and stared out the window. Awaiting its return. 

–

It was noon the following day when that tricky little spot in the universe reopened and your reply floated lazily onto the foot of your bed. Hair still sopping wet from your bath you ran forward and clutched it in your palms. Your slick skin smeared the ink but the letters were legible. 

“Mistress Beddor, I am delighted to hear from you. Smart of you to call in your favor, please allow me a week's time to find everything I can. Until then I will send a formal invitation  to  Rhysand requesting you visit my court. Best wishes until we meet - H.” 

Amren had made it clear in her lessons how guarded the High Lord’s were about their abilities, and yet you remembered the information she shared. Helion was the Spellcleaver and his court was famed for knowing a little about a lot of things. 

Azriel and Rhysand’s inner circle may have decided to keep things from you but Helion owed you a favor. If he could help you find out anything about this new life of yours, you were damn sure going to cash in on the favor he owed. 

You dressed quickly and made your way to the roof where you knew Cassian would be.

–

“You want me to take you where?” Cassian huffed between blows, a young male was currently sparring with him, exerting all force against the General who was barely breaking a sweat. You rocked back and forth on your toes, hands clasped behind your back. 

“To town. I would take myself but…” You trailed off and gestured to your back where you lacked a very useful set of wings. Cassian pursed his lips and thought momentarily before nodding. With one swing of his arm the young male before him was flat on the ground gasping for air. Cassian chuckled at the sight before exiting the sparring ring. 

You raised your brows in question as you watched his partner struggle back to his feet. Cassian only shrugged and pulled his shirt back on. 

“What?” He smiled, raising a brow to mimic your expression. You smiled tightly and shrugged it off. “Why do you want to go to town?” He threw the question over his shoulder as he made his way downstairs, highly aware of you hot on his trail. You only smiled and shook your head. 

“I'm feeling- adventurous I suppose.” 

“Okay then…” He muttered. He rounded the turn towards the living quarters and stopped momentarily, effectively having you run into his broad backside. “If you’ll give me five minutes lady Beddor, I am going to clean up and then I will take you to town.”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, watching as he disappeared into his room. You were thankful he agreed to take you, but you couldn't help replaying the conversation you had overheard. What in gods’ name did he know that he wasn’t telling you?

Patience

A small voice in your head commanded. 

All will be seen in due time.

–

“I'm still confused as to why you wanted to come down here.” Cassian spoke up from around a bite of his food. He was strolling slowly beside you, watching you from the corner of his eye as you took in the sights of Velaris. You were wide eyed and slack jawed like a child in a candy store. 

The music, the smells, the colors… It had assaulted your senses and overloaded you in a way that you had not been overwhelmed since Under The Mountain. But this- this overbearing feeling was different from the sweat and death of that place. Velaris was air, and light, and life. It was exploding with so much life and hope that it had you nearly misty eyed. Why had you not ventured here sooner? 

“I was curious. A little sick of looking at it through a window.” You replied, turning your head as you walked to face him. He nodded and looked forward, shoving his now food-free hands into his pockets. His expression was unfocused, like he had something on his mind he was afraid to voice. 

“What is it?” You prodded, gently nudging his arm with your elbow. 

“What do you mean?”

“You want to ask me something. So ask.” 

He sighed and trained his gaze on the street before you, gently guiding you out of the way of oncoming children who were giggling and chasing a ball. 

“What was it like… down there? Rhys- he doesnt… He doesnt talk about it with us.” His voice was hushed, as though he was scared to talk about it too loudly. You swallowed thickly and looked to the Sidra. 

“It was, without a question in my mind, the worst thing I will ever experience in my life.” You began, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “I went there as a girl, and left as some twisted form of a woman.” 

Cassian’s jaw tightened, and the two of you came to a stop on a bridge over the Sidra, watching the water move and the lights twinkle on her surface. He was silent, letting you tell a story you had yet to utter to anyone but your nightmares. 

“I uhm… I kind of forced myself to disappear I think. I blocked a lot of it out, prayed it was a nightmare.” You chuckled then, an action that had him slicing his eyes in your direction. “Sometimes I still think I’m gonna wake up in my bed to my little brother screaming at me to wake up and play.” 

Cassian smiled tightly and spoke softly, “You had a brother?” 

Your brows creased and you nodded with a smile, as if he should have known, “Oh yeah… yeah I had one.” And somehow saying it that way, like it was in the past cut you deeper than a knife. You were crying, the bite of the air stinging your wet cheeks. 

“His name was Adam. He wasn't even ten yet- just a little boy. But uh… Yeah. Yeah, I had a brother.” And there was some kind of sick finality in the way you said it that had Cassian slumping and leaning his weight backwards against the bridge railing. Your elbows were propped against it, gaze trained on the water below. 

“Tell me about him.” He whispered, and when you looked at him his eyes were intent on your own. Genuinely curious about who Adam was, who he was to you.

You laughed, a broken noise cut with a sob. But you were grateful, grateful someone was asking about him. Who he was. And so, as the citizens of Velaris bustled by and the afternoon wasted away to evening you told Cassian about a little boy who’s birthday fell on the Winter Solstice, his pony named Chelsie, and his dream to become the captain of a great Naval ship one day. And Cassian listened as you cried, laughed with you, and while you may have been imagining it… it felt like he was mourning too. Grieving the loss of a little boy he had never met but now knew through stories.

He had a secret to keep, that you were sure of, but you were grateful to him at this moment for allowing you to remember your sibling in the way he should have been remembered. Not in the way that Amarantha had wanted you to remember him. 

You were giggling over a particularly fond memory when your quaint disposition was interrupted by billowing shadows and a soft wind. Azriel stood, shoulders squared and eyes narrowed on Cassian who fell silent and tight lipped upon his friend’s arrival. 

“Rhysand requests your presence at the town house.” He spoke, glancing between both you and Cassian. 

“We will be there shortly, Brother.” Cassian replied

“Immediaetly.” Azriel’s words were clipped, drawn tight as a bowstring. He relaxed when you smiled tightly and clapped your hands, relishing in the warmth that immediately flowed to your cold-stiff fingers. 

“Well then, escort me to the High Lord, boys.” 

–

Rhysand sat at his desk, a lamp softly illuminating the room in a warm glow. His legs were kicked up on the oak and his hands were clasped behind his head. He was the feline picture of relaxation when your trio entered his office. 

The curtains were pulled back and the windows open, the welcoming sounds of Velaris drifting on the breeze and filling the room. Upon your arrival he offered you a seat, one you gladly took, and motioned to his desk. 

A letter, golden as the sun, lay open on his desk. It's perfectly rounded wax seal had been torn neatly and its contents lay splayed on the surface. Azriel and Cassian had taken up twin positions on either side of the door, and a muscle was thrumming tightly in the Spymaster’s jaw. 

“It seems as though you are quite popular amongst our sister court.” Rhysand spoke, knocking his legs down and leaning forward in his seat to look at you. Feigning innocence you cocked a brow and leaned backwards in your seat, a picture of perfect confusion. 

Humming he drummed his fingers on his desk, “Helion has requested your presence in the Day court for a week, should you be willing to go.” You heard Azriel scoff and then the muffled sounds of a struggle as Cassian elbowed him deeply in the ribs. A quick look from Rhys and the noise settled. 

“For?” You questioned, keeping up with the game you had begun to play days ago. 

“That- I am not sure of. (Y/N)... I am not positive that this is the best idea.” He raised, leaning backwards in his seat once more. 

“Why not?”

Rhysand looked to Cassian and Azriel behind you and sighed deeply. 

‘You are seeking answers to questions you do not really want answered.’ 

His voice was echoing through your head, a quick glance at the men behind you confirmed they had not heard it. When you returned your gaze to Rhysand your brows were dropped and the demeanor you held was gone. 

“How do you know I don't want them answered?” You replied aloud, not quite sure how to accomplish the trick he had pulled. 

‘Because I know the answer, and you are not ready to hear it.’

He had audacity.

You nodded tightly and stood from your chair. Dusting imaginary dust from your pants you made for the door. Cassian and Azriel made way for you and with a hand on the knob you turned over your shoulder to look at Rhysand. 

“Tell Helion I will join him for the week.” Nodding curtly, he glanced between his brothers who looked utterly distraught. 

“And Rhysand?”

“Yes?”

“You don't get to decide what im ready for.”

You left then, keenly aware of the raised voices behind the door as you slammed it that raised for moments before the room was sealed. As you walked down the hall you slowed. Were you really ready for this? 

Answers, yes. Those you needed, craved. But a court entirely foreign to you? With a High Lord who “owed you a favor” but had been responsible (to some degree) for the death of your sister?... No. You could not think of that. Helion had the capabilities to help you, and was willing to try and figure this out for you. And he had been sorry. Remorse would never bring Clare back, would never change that final image of her hanging from a wall- but it softened the blow somehow. Made that pill easier to swallow when you thought of his pain, begging Amarantha not to make you watch. 

You would go to the Day Court, you would ruffle Helion’s feathers, and you would figure out what the fuck the Night Court was guarding so tightly. 

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice called from behind you. Elain was in a pale pink dress, hands crossed in front of her, a cautious smile on her pretty face. 

“Hi Elain.” It had been a long time since you had seen her. One? Two months? Something like that you were sure… 

“I didn't realize you were back.” She spoke, moving towards you slowly. You crossed your arms across your chest and nodded gently. The way she was approaching you like you were some kind of wounded animal made you want to profusely apologize for the scare you had given her all those weeks ago when you nearly took the house down to its foundation.

“Yes and No. I’m… Im not staying.” 

“Oh-”

“I leave for the Day court tomorrow.” You spoke quickly, afraid she would beg you not to leave. Something in the softness of her doe eyes made you think that request would be a hard one to say no to. 

Shock and confusion overtook her features, and as she opened her mouth to speak the door to Rhysand’s office flew open. Azriel stalked out and slammed it behind him, hardly making eye contact with you or Elain as he stormed down the hall, teaming with anger. Cassian and Rhysand emerged shortly after, wearing twin looks of defeat and exhaustion. 

“What happened?” Elain whispered, glancing between the two males. Rhysand waved it off and Cassian shook his head before looking at you. 

“Ready?” He questioned, practically begging to get the fuck out of that house. You nodded in reply and bid goodnight to Elain before following him out of the house. The flight back was quiet, Cassian’s mind was clearly preoccupied. You didn't mind the silence, finding solace in your own thoughts as you thought over the next week.

When you returned to your twin abode the male let you down gently on the balcony before trudging inside and promptly filling a crystal glass full of whiskey. You watched as he downed the shimmering liquid and replenished his glass. Keenly aware that you were watching, the general filled a second glass knuckle deep and motioned for you to take it. 

“(Y/N)...” 

“You wont change my mind Cassian.” 

“Why do you want to go so badly?” He prodded, slouching down into an arm chair not far from the balcony doors. You didn't reply, just took a drink from your glass and sat down. “Other courts- they arent like this one, Beddor.”

You scoffed into your drink, he had just answered his own question. 

“They are going to say things about us to you that arent true. Lies that will make us sound… evil.”

“And who am I to call them liars? I have seen nothing of this court but one city and a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” You snapped, cutting your gaze to him finally. Your words slapped a look of defeat on his features and he sighed. 

“You have seen a city that has been kept  secret for centuries. The Night Court the rest of Prythian knows is not one worth knowing.” And with that he finished his second drink and bid you goodnight. 

-

“Not no but hell no.” You spoke, words laced with steel. Feyre sighed and Rhysand rubbed his temples slowly. You could hear Cassian chuckling down the hallway and Azriel just stared at you as though you had killed his first born. “He isnt coming with me.” 

“You cant go alone, and Cassian’s reputation amongst other courts precedes him in the worst ways possible.” 

“Hey, fuck you man.” 

“Cas you aren't even allowed to enter the summer court.” Feyre mumbled with a smile. Cassian only scoffed and returned to whatever it was he was doing moments before. You looked between them all, dumbfounded. 

“I cant bring Amren?” You offered, grasping for straws in an empty cup.

“No. Amren is to stay in Velaris. You will bring Azriel, I'm sorry but I cant send you there alone. I have no clue why Helion wants to see you and i'm not risking you getting kidnapped by Hybern because you can't fully protect yourself without running the risk of being tracked.” If your words had been steel, Rhysand's were obsidian, honed and sharpened to a lethal edge. And you knew he was right, you were still possibly a target, and an expensive one at that. Yet the company of the shadowsinger would make your quest for knowledge difficult, if not impossible. 

The way he and Feyre looked at you made you heed his words and agree to the conditions of your stay at the Day Court.

“We’ll Winnow in, Helion is already expecting our arrival.” Azriel spoke then, stepping forward. There was an emotion in his amber eyes that was almost palpable- anger, confusion, and hurt mingled together and showed themselves to you briefly before his face was once more a mask of cool composure. He held out an arm and with a wave at Feyre and Rhysand you took it gratefully. 

Arrival at the Day Court was immediate- so much so that you nearly emptied your breakfast onto the cobbles below. Winnowing was still completely out of your wheelhouse. It left you feeling sickly and out of place when it ended. How useful- yet how strange it was. Azriel clasped your shoulder and raised a brow. 

“Are you alright?” He questioned, concern laced in his tone. Bent entirely in half you braced yourself on your knees but offered him a thumbs up and an offset groan. Azriel grimaced and patted your back gently, straightening quickly when the booming voice of Helion was heard approaching. 

“Mistress Beddor, travel has not suited you?” He asked, stopping before the two of you by a few paces. He was flanked by two women, dark in complexion and so stunningly beautiful that you had to avert your gaze. Helion looked much healthier than the last time you saw him. His dark hair was glossier, face fuller, and skin glowingly healthy. He donned a crown of gold that resembled the sun, wow- he really had gone all out for this.

“Im alright.” You replied, straightening your posture and nodding in greeting to Helion and his courtiers. Noticing your gaze Helion smiled and moved out of their way. 

“(Y/N), these are Misae and Suma.” The women (who you had effectively decided were sisters) smiled, revealing shining rows of perfectly white teeth. “They will be taking care of you during your stay.” Without a word they curtsied and in a flash they were gone, the quiet whisper of their golden skirts the only proof they had ever been there at all. 

“Your wraiths never fail to terrify me.” Azriel commented, stepping forward to shake hands with Helion who merely shrugged and chuckled. 

“Wraiths?” The men turned to look at you, both wearing a mask of confusion before Azriel’s eyes widened and he cleared his throat. 

Easy to forget you had not always been a fae. 

“They are like us, but not.” Azriel began.

“Appearance wise they are fae, metaphysically… well they just-” Helion tried to finish and it was almost painful trying to watch the two of them explain something that you didn't understand. 

You hoped this conversation was not a peek into the rest of the week. 

“Anyhow, Misae will return to take you to your room. Please feel free to rest and become acquainted with the palace. I have several meetings to attend and will not be able to rejoin you until dinner. Azriel, if you would join me?” Helion spoke, effectively dismissing you to speak with Rhysand’s emissary. 

It was a slap in the face almost, to be disregarded and thrown off so quickly into your visit. But something in the tightness of Helion’s shoulders, and the tentative nature to his smile made you feel as though he wasn't quite ready to be alone with you. You watched as the men strolled down the cobbled path lined with fruit trees and golden street lamps. 

“Shall we?” A female voice uttered from behind you. It was disjointed, ghostly in a way that made you jump and turn to the woman with a start. It was Misae, smiling softly and tilting her head. Her dark braids fell across her shoulders and nearly to her waist, they were interwoven with golden ornaments and small white flowers. So much gold. Helion must have had a fancy for the fineries in life. 

Briefly you thought that Clare would have liked it here. 

Shaking it off you smiled in return and nodded, following her in the opposite direction of where Azriel and Helion had disappeared. 

“I am (y/n).” You muttered after a moment's silence. Misae looked at you from the corner of her eye and giggled, running her hands over the silk of her skirts. The fashion here was starkly different from that of the human lands. The cut of her dress revealed the slopes and planes of her body, dipped to tease her breasts, and slit to allow her legs to peak through as she walked. Rings and bracelets clinked together melodiously on her hands and wrists and large yellow stones hung from her ears. 

You had never felt more plain in your trousers and thin sweater than you did now. 

At one point in your life you had worn the frilly hats, the frilly gloves, and the lace lined dresses. 

It had been so long since those fineries had been dotted on. 

“You are not from Prythian?” Misae spoke, once more catching you off guard with the tone of her voice. You would need to get used to that quickly. Her words were more pointed than a question, though she disguised them well.

“That obvious?” You chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest and taking in the sights of the palace grounds. Birds sang and swooped through trees, and fountains trickled nearby. It was so open and bright here. 

“Yes and no.” Misae replied, taking a left into an open air hallway. She led you towards its ending where large doors encrusted in rubies and gems were sealed shut. “You just seem much more…youthful than anyone else here.” She struggled for that word, didn't mean it but couldn't put her mind on what she was trying to say. 

Human.

You just seemed more human. 

You only nodded and fell silent as she led you inside. 

–

You tried and failed not to be amazed by the complexity and beauty of Helion’s home. You did not want to seem out of place, or like this was new to you. But then again, it was new to you. You had grown up in what you considered to have been the lap of luxury, but Helion’s residence made your life look like that of a stray begging for scraps. Every surface that was not encrusted with jewels was laden in gold or bronze. There didn't seem to be a single pane of glass in any window, and the ceilings seemed to never end. 

In your own room, art whose frames alone could have fed your village for a year was hung, and the bed which sat in the corner was something out of a fairytale. Misae had given you a tour then let you be, informing you that one call of her name would summon her lest you need anything. 

Taking a glance around, you weren't sure you would. 

In the bathroom a dress hung, a note gingerly attached to its hanger.

It was a dreamy little number, dusty pink and made entirely of sheer chiffon. It was backless, a fact that had your face drained of color and your hands shaking as you reached out to run your fingers over the soft material. 

‘Join me at sunset for dinner in the gazebo. - H’ 

You let the parchment heat and burn to cinders in your hand, watched as that little white light consumed it with blind eyes. 

You chose not to get dressed in the bathroom, didnt look in the mirror as you slipped out of your sweater and pulled the dress on. Ignored the breeze that floated across your back and caressed the silver map of scars there. Deftly you twisted your hair out of your face and secured it with golden pins that had been left for you on the bedside table. As you dressed the twin wraiths appeared and added final touches, politely listening when you refused opulent jewelry and hair finishes. 

“(y/n)?” Came a muffled voice from behind the door, accompanied by a knock. With a nod the sisters had evaporated and you opened the door revealing Azriel. He had dropped his leathers and opted for a black button up made of the finest night court silk, and night dark trousers. With little shame, he allowed his eyes to drag the length of you. 

“Yes?” You almost snapped, urging his eyes back up to your own. Your brow was raised in question and you had yet to fully open the door for him to enter. Clearing his throat he made to scooch beside you, a motion you let slide. “Sure Azriel, come on in…” You muttered beneath your breath.

Shutting the door behind him you made to turn and face him when he sucked in a sharp breath. Your spine became steel and your hand stilled on the doorknob. Without a thought that welcoming heat warmed your skin and the room glowed a faint bit brighter. 

Tentative fingers brushed against the bare skin of your spine, stilling at the center of your back. Could he hear the thrumming of your heart? Smell the fear you suddenly felt?

“Is this why you didn't wear it?” He whispered, gently pulling his hand away. Slowly, ever so slowly you turned to face him, and pressed your back into the door. His hand was still raised, as though he burned to reach out and touch you again. 

“Wear what?”

“The dress. The first dinner you had with us at the town house.” Azriel muttered, studying your features. 

What dress was he talking about? You mulled it over in your mind for a moment.

Oh.

You swallowed thickly and moved around him towards the open windows. The little white dress, that had been so utterly human you had shoved it into the darkest depths of your armoire. Never to be seen again. 

“When you left, Nuala found it. Brought it back to me.” He muttered, his eyes still trained on the bedroom door, his back a wall of steel as you stared at it. So they had found it. 

“Thats not the whole reason I didnt wear it. But part of it, yes.” You replied, lifting your chin as he turned to face you. There was some kind of hurt playing on his features, an emotion you couldn't pin down. 

“What was the other?”

“It was too human. Too- too delicate.” His eyes softened as he realized what you were trying to convey. It wasn't too delicate, it was beautiful, you felt it was too delicate for you. The gesture had been kind, you would give him that, but it broke your heart entirely. 

Without entirely thinking the shadowsinger stepped forward and placed his gloved hands before you, their palms upward, waiting. Head cocked you watched him as he pulled the gloves off to reveal a map of scars, twisted and beautiful. Chucking them to the side he looked at you, searched your eyes for horror or repulsion, and yet he found nothing there but a deep understanding. 

“You can hide them all you want, but they are part of you. For good or bad.” He muttered, unmoving as you took his hands in your own and ran your fingers over the ridges and dips there. He had stopped breathing as you held them, watched from above as you broke eye contact and studied the imperfections. He had hated them his whole life, and yet here you were, making him wish he had uncovered them sooner. 

Looking into his eyes once more he saw a thin layer of gloss there, tears threatening to be shed but held tightly from doing so. “Thank you.” You muttered, for what he wasnt sure. “Thank you.” 

The illyrian only smiled tightly and nodded before pulling you forward by the shoulders, enveloping you in a cocoon of muscle and wing as he hugged you close. You rested your head on his shoulder, and held him for who knows how long. 

“We should go.” You whispered finally, well aware that there was still a dinner to attend, appearances to make, and answers you could not be sidetracked from. Azriel only nodded and pulled away, offering you a hand to hold as you made your way into the hall beyond your room. 

Distantly, music played, and for some reason its haunting melody was less piercing than it should have been, less harrowing as you held Azriel’s hand and made your way to the dining room.

~

TAGS:

All Acotar

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sleepylunarwolf @paige0103

Archangel Tags 

@wanderer-by-heart @fussel9913 @marigold-morelli. @eatsleepreadance @esposadomd @blitz-fall @a-little-disguised @sevikas-whore @judig92 @@we-were-beautiful @willowkirk @ariaaira @paasrin @starryhiraeth @torchbearerkyle @theravenphoenix26

[actual-changeling]

some more season 6 angst, happy ending as always implied. i make them suffer cause otherwise where's the fun, so have another dose of pain.

tagging @today-in-fic

———

Scully doesn't know why they stopped screaming, but they both run out of breath and right into a silence. Her hands are shaking, her fingertips are turning cold, and her eyes are heavy with uncried tears. The few that did escape are roughly wiped away, and she wraps her arms around herself, tight and tighter until every inhale meets a wall of resistance.

She can't look at him, yet he is still looking at her across the expanse of his living room. Even barefoot and underdressed Mulder is still just as undecipherable as he was hours ago at his desk. Something within her chest cracked wide open the second he raised his voice, a wound she has no idea how to fix, and it feels like he can practically see her bleeding onto the wooden floor. Instead, there's only a slowly growing puddle of water forming around her as the rain drips from her coat.

She shouldn't have come over. She shouldn't have tried to talk to him again (and again, and again). She shouldn't have insisted on getting a response, everything else be damned. She shouldn't have cared as much as she did—does.

Scully doubts she could ever not care about him, and her bones ache with emptiness. Maybe they could have saved this, themselves, but Mulder refuses to move even an inch from where he has cemented himself in his beliefs. Just listen, she pleads silently, over and over. Just listen to me.

Weeks ago, she told him it's about trust.

It's still about trust, it always has been. Outside, it keeps raining, and the wind keeps violently shaking his windows loud enough to drown out her stuttering breaths. The seconds pass, and she watches through wet lashes as he turns away, back to her, away again, scrubbing his hands over his face and pacing on the spot.

"Scully—", she flinches, hard, and he stops. Mulder's eyes soften, and suddenly she misses him so much her knees almost buckle. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Her voice comes out rough, and when she wipes away more tears tumbling down her cheeks, she feels something inside of her nose break open. She still gets them sometimes, the nosebleeds. When she's stressed, in rough weather, after a hot bath, and now here, right in the middle of his apartment. Her fingers come back bloody, and Mulder's expression morphs into one she thought she'd never see again:

Horrified fear, so much fear, and she is so, so tired.

Swallowing a new bout of tears, she licks her lips, and her mouth tastes like copper and blame. Is it his fault? Not entirely, no, but she tried and tried and tried while he dropped her hand and walked away from her. A drop of blood runs down her chin and colours the rain on the floor a faint red; they both watch it happen, one with exhausted resignation, one with growing concern.

"Look what you did," she says quietly, and he blanches.

Scully realizes then that she needs to go home or she won't be leaving his apartment tonight. If she stays, she will break underneath his concern, she will forgive him as he cleans the dried blood off her face. Maybe he will quickly understand that she's not sick again and do nothing except kick her out. Maybe he will pick up where they left off when she was dying.

She'd let him. She will stay, and he will kiss her until she can't breathe, until she forgets about the phantom pain keeping her awake at night, until this moment is gone, forgotten, smudged like wet paint.

She can't. She wants to—god, does she want to—but she can't.

Instead she backs away slowly, her eyes never leaving his face. When she digs for the car keys in her pockets, she couldn't care less about the blood staining the fabric or the way they become slippery in her palms. Without making a sound, Mulder watches her go with his hands curled into fists, and she needs to know that he won't follow her.

(She needs to know he won't drive through the storm and knock on her front door. That he will no longer worry enough to pull out his keys and find her curled up on her couch. That he won't kneel on the carpet, brush his fingertips over her cheeks, and kiss her until she breaks. That she won't be tempted to kiss him back until they stumble into her bedroom and she burns and smoulders underneath him.

She needs to know that she can stare at the ghost in her mirror without being haunted by him.)

For that, he needs to know that she's fine; she needs to erase the thought of a deadline that chases him into her arms time and time again. Blindly, her hand finds the door and pulls it open, bathing her in bright, yellow light. Mulder takes a hesitant step towards her and she wipes at the remnants of gradually drying blood on her skin.

"I'm not sick, again, Mulder. It happens sometimes," she tells him with a voice softer than she expected it to be.

The corners of her mouth twitch and she gives him the hint of a smile because she can. Because he's her best friend even if she is no longer his. Because she loves him still. She could never not love him, and maybe he never stopped loving her either.

Mulder nods, swallows heavily, and she sees some of the fear bleed away. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she adds, "It didn't have to end this way."

It did, though.

It did, so she goes home.

[morgan-the-lonely-brick]

personal tag rant.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Rafe was so hot this season. Need more of him plsss Can you do Topper sister reader getting caught touching herself and then they start sexting and she ask him to fuck her? reader is 18, of course!

I have a few more Rafe requests in the work. Please keep them coming, I miss this man (and JJ!!)

Warnings: 18+, smut, brother’s best friend, sexting, daddy kink, protected p + v, 

—

Rafe never bought your sweet and innocent bullshit you put up in front of people. He knew that under your appearance, under the preppy clothes, the big doe eyes and the angelic laugh, you were anything but innocent. 

Him and Topper have been friends for over ten years, and have been hanging out almost everyday. He watched you grow two feet taller, and when your little girl body turned into a woman’s. He saw you. He studied you. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon the boys came back from the golf course that Rafe had his confirmation. Topper told him to use your bathroom since the main one was being reconstructed, thinking you weren’t home, but when Rafe walked into your room, he saw you naked on your bed, humping your pillow. It wasn’t just any pillow. It was the one with the face on it — a pillow pet, you had called it. The nose of the turtle was rubbing perfectly on your clit, drawing out the softest whimpers and mewls. 

He watched for a few seconds in silence as you rocked down on the pillow back and forth, a smirk curling on his lips. 

‘’Having fun here?’’ he said in a teasing tone, snapping you out of your bubble.

‘’What the fu—’’ You turned around, startled, and saw Rafe standing in your doorway. ‘’Rafe! What are you doing in my room?’’ 

‘’Just needed the bathroom,’’ he explained. His eyes trailed down your body, seeing it for the first time. ‘’Didn’t know you were busy.’’

You threw a plushie at him, hitting him square in the chest. ‘’Get out!’’ 

Rafe laughed and obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘’If you want to do some naughty things and not get caught, you should lock the door.’’ 

୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

Since that afternoon, Rafe couldn't help but shift his eyes to you whenever you were around. Now that he knew what was underneath the skirts and girls tops, his imagination had free rein. He was careful, though, making sure your brother never caught on —Topper would kill him if he knew the things he was thinking about you. He made it crystal clear to Rafe and Kelce: you were off-limits.

You didn’t care about your brother’s rule though. Rafe was your brother’s hot best friend. Every girl in Kildare was begging to get in his pants — and now you got it too. But it didn’t cross your mind until the other day when he walked in your room. Maybe it was because you’d always known him, seen him as a kind of second big brother. But now? That image had changed, and there was no going back.

One evening, Rafe was hanging in his bedroom, ready to go out with nowhere to go since Kelce had bailed on him for a Tinder hook up. The asshole. Rafe was annoyed, but there was nothing he could say to make Kelce choose beers over sex. To be fair, He would choose sex too.  

He had texted Topper, but he was at Ruthie’s, which meant Rafe was completely on his own tonight. He’ll probably smoke a bit of weed and watch some porn later, a cozy evening. But Wheezie was still home and Rafe promised her he had quit smoking. 

As he waited, his phone buzzed on his bed where he left it. Rafe picked it up, confused when he had received a picture from an unknown number. It was a faceless girl in a delicate sheer pink cami, and her tits looked fantastic. He frowned as he typed ‘who’s that?’. Must be a mistake.

A reply came five seconds later.

You: You don’t recognize my tits Rafey?

Instantly, he knew it was you. It was a nickname you gave him when you were younger. No one but you called him that — Rafey. 

Rafe: How did you get my number?

You: Stole it from Top’s phone 🤭

Rafe: Naughty girl 

You: Did you like it?

Rafe: Like what?

You: My pic! 📸

You: [picture attached]

It wasn’t the same picture. Not exactly. This time, your sheer cami was pulled up and your tits were completely out. 

Rafe cursed and ran a hand through his hair. How did that happen? It was clear that you sent this picture with the intention of initiating something with him. But why was this happening now? What made you go and send him a picture of your tits tonight? You never flirted with him before, or showed signals that you were interested. 

He reached down to rub himself over his pants as he typed a reply. 

Rafe: Fuck those are nice 🥵 

You: They’re cold…🧊❄️ Can you come warm them up? 

Rafe had to do a double take when he read your message to make sure he hadn’t misread it. Can you come warm them up? It was right there on his phone screen. He looked down at his pants, tented and tight, and groaned. He wasn't sure if he should go through with this or not. Did he want to go to you? Absolutely. Should he break his best friend’s trust for a good fuck? 

Rafe: As long as you warm me up too. 

He sent a picture of his tented pants, which he was incredibly hard under.

You: Waiting for you 💕 

 ୨୧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖୨୧

When he arrived, Rafe turned off the truck’s headlights and made sure the neighbors didn't see him. The lady that lived in front of the Thornton house was a country club member and loved to spread gossip around. It wasn’t unusual for him to be at the Thornton’s, but Topper’s truck was not in the driveway. 

The last thing he needed was her spying through her curtains. 

You were sitting on your bed in a pair of panties your mom didn’t know you owned and your pink cami, waiting for Rafe to show up. Tannyhill was seven minutes away, he shouldn’t be long.

‘’Hi, Rafey,’’ you greeted with the most innocent smile and doe eyes.

Rafe shook his head, tsking. ‘’Uh, uh. Don’t play that game with me.’’ 

Your lips curled into a smile. ''Took you long.''

He rolled his eyes. ‘’What’s the hurry? Are your parents coming home soon?’’ 

You shook your head. ‘’I’m just so fucking horny.’’ 

Rafe laughed out loud. He never heard you speak like that, so raunchy and bold. 

You stood on your knees and lifted your cami off, leaving you topless. Your nipples were peaked and pretty, as if greeting Rafe. ''Are you gonna come and warm them up?''  

No need to ask twice. Rafe pulled you onto his lap and put his large hands on you, groping and playing with your tits. His calloused fingers kneaded into the soft flesh expertly. He found your hardened nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumbs and forefingers, causing you to whimper at the sensation. 

‘’You like when I give your tits attention, uh?’’ he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, shifting so your needy cunt would come in contact with Rafe’s rock hard erection. He noticed what you were trying to do, and a smirk played on his lips before he attached them to your neck. 

‘’Can't get enough?’’ Rafe asked between kisses. ‘’Didn’t know you were such a needy little thing.’’ His hips rocked up into yours, grinding his thick cock against your clothed cunt. 

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making you whimper and cling to his shoulders. ‘’Rafe.’’ 

‘’I'm going to fuck this sweet cunt until you can't walk straight,’’ he promised darkly, nipping over the sensitive spot where your pulse raced, making you gasp and arch into him. 

You’ve thought a lot about Rafe touching you these past days. You knew from overheard conversations with the boys — and talks around the island — and that he was experienced, that he knew how to please a girl. He had a reputation. And goddamn he didn’t disappoint. 

One of his hands left your breasts to slide down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to rub over your folds...which were slick with arousal. Rafe groaned. ''Fuck, you're already soaked.'' He rubbed slow circles over your clit, feeling how swollen it had gotten. ''Did you grind on that turtle of yours before I arrived? Turtles are an endangered species or some shit, can’t torture them like that.’’ 

A laugh bubbled out. ‘’Rafe…’’ 

‘’What?’’ 

‘’Don’t want you to make me laugh. Want you to fuck me,’’ you said, looking right into his blue eyes. 

Rafe raised an eyebrow, holding your gaze. ‘’You want my cock, babygirl? Want me to fill this pussy up real good?’’ His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance before pushing inside. 

Your walls clenched around him. 

‘’Rafe…’’ you whined again. 

‘’Okay, okay.’’ He kissed your jawline sweetly, then removed his hand from your panties and swiftly stripped them down your legs. ‘’Might keep these as a keepsake,’’ he joked, holding your lacy thong.  

If you hadn’t been so horny, you would have argued with him to get it back — you didn’t have many and you really liked this pair  —, but all you could think about was the beast in Rafe’s pants pounding into you and making you scream. He could get you on your fours like a dog or fold you like a little pretzel if he wished. 

You just needed him.

You reached for his belt and worked to unbuckle it, but Rafe pushed you back and told you to bend over your vanity. His request surprised you, but you complied. The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver. You never tried that position before. 

You could hear the sound of Rafe undressing — the rustling of fabric, the undoing of a zipper and the clinking of his belt buckle on the floor. You wanted to look at him — at his cock, more precisely —, but he was already behind you, a hand on your back, making you lean down lower, and nudged your legs further apart. 

The air leaked out of your lungs in a squeaky rush when he pressed the tip, gently tearing through your tight walls. The sensation had you gripping the edge of your vanity. 

‘’You okay, baby?’’ he asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

You nodded. ‘’Y-yeah.’’ 

Once the first uncomfortable thrusts passed, you forgot about the initial pain and felt the pleasure flow through your body. Rafe gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging into your soft skin as he picked up pace. The vanity creaked, a rhythmic beat that matched your increasingly frantic movements.

Your tightness enveloped him like a vice as he pounded into you mercilessly. Christ, you felt incredible. Each deep stroke dragged a gasp from your lips, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure you made.

''You feel so fucking good, baby,'' he grunted, gripping your hips and digging his fingers into your soft flesh. ''Is this what you wanted when you stole my number through Topper's phone? For me to fuck your tight cunt?'' 

Tears were pricking your eyes, your mouth hanging open while wanton sounds kept spilling out. ''Yes, Daddy!'' you uttered out.

The word slipped without noticing, sending a jolt straight to Rafe’s cock, making him throb inside you. ‘’That's it, baby,’’ he growled, even more turned on. ‘’Let Daddy know how much you love being fucked.’’

He pistoned into you harder, the force causing your breasts to bounce with each thrust. The obscene slapping of skin against skin echoed through the room, adding to the soundtrack of your other sounds. It looked like a scene straight from a spicy booktok romance.

Rafe brought a hand around your neck, forcing you to look up. “Look at yourself.”

You lifted your eyes to the reflection in the mirror. It was a view that was erotic. Seeing yourself nude and flushed along with him, and feeling it at the same time was nearly mesmerizing. The look on your face was hazy, strained, and blissful, eyes half-lidded and lips parted. You locked eyes with Rafe through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear.

Behind you, sweat was sticking to Rafe’s smooth chest, but he didn't slow down. He must have really good stamina. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and he kissed below your ear. 

‘’Are we putting on a good show?’’ he asked, his voice hoarse and low. His words made your cunt clench around Rafe like a vice. He threw his head back with a groan, his whole body tightening. ''Fuck, you're gonna cut my blood flow if you keep squeezing me like that.''

You wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. You had lost all control of your body, gasping and clenching and rutting hard against Rafe until you came with a drawn-out moan. You shivered through your orgasm and Rafe's steady thrusts. 

When he started to shake, you swallowed hard and found your voice. ‘’Come on, Rafey. Fill me up. Cum deep in my pussy, Daddy!’’ 

That pushed him over the edge, his whole body spasming, cock forced all the way in and filling up the condom. Your chest heaving, trying to catch a breath as he rode out the high, grunts and groans leaving his lips. 

You've never heard anything sexier. 

When he was finished, Rafe pulled out and stepped back, leaving alone on your wobbly legs. You started to lose balance, and quickly grabbed the vanity's edge.

‘’Shit, you good?’’ Rafe asked, his tone hovering between concern and smug satisfaction.

You gave a small nod. You just needed to sit. 

His eyes scanned slowly down your body. ''Fucked you that good, uh?'' he said with a smirk, teasing. 

You shot him a playful glare, going to sit on your bed. ‘’Fuck you, Cameron.’’ 

Rafe laughed as he removed and tossed the condom in your trash. ‘’Just did, Princess.’’ 

God. Could he be more exasperating?

He checked on the way back, reading something that made him frown. ‘’Eh, I gotta go.’’

‘’Now?! We just fucked.’’ 

Although this was a casual fuck and that it’s usually how it ends, you didn’t want him to leave right after. You didn’t expect him to cuddle, but you had hoped he would stay a little. To talk or watch something on Netflix. 

Rafe dressed quickly, explaining that Wheezie needed to drive her to her friend’s house because Rose’s car was not starting. 

Before exiting your room, he called your name. ‘’You sound so pretty when you cum.''

Your cheeks flushed and you hid your face with a pillow. ''Rafe...'' 

The corners of his lips curved into a smug smile. He wasn’t done. ‘’Oh, and I liked when you called me Daddy. It's hot.''

—

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[writingsbychlo]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in. 

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut. 

You were his, from that very first moment. 

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something. 

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad. 

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised. 

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed. 

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner. 

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning. 

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated. 

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class. 

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like. 

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.” 

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty. 

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls. 

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection. 

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

 “He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours. 

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all. 

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately. 

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression. 

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him. 

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall. 

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head. 

You didn’t need to see that. 

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor. 

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth. 

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you. 

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument. 

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks. 

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you. 

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you. 

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance. 

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble. 

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze. 

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it. 

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body. 

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you. 

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do. 

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears. 

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about. 

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough. 

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something. 

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision. 

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did. 

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly. 

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight. 

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate. 

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss. 

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten. 

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times. 

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look. 

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now. 

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor. 

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!” 

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger. 

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!” 

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it. 

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked. 

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction. 

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment. 

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention. 

Detention. 

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead. 

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case. 

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own. 

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead. 

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg. 

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily. 

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip. 

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it. 

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that. 

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part one

summary: all your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. so why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to prythian?

warnings: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

word count: 3.8k

series masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! this is the first instalment of this mini-series that i literally got the idea for two days ago lol. it'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! unfortunately i'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but i'll likely repost the ones i have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them)

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[mywritersmind]

THIGH HIGHS - LN4

summary : In which Lando likes thigh high socks and his best friends sister far too much.

listen up : my first time writing full smut… oral, swearing, p in v, teasing, age gap!! fewtrell!youngersister!!

words : 1610

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando knew to stay in Max’s room. He was told explicitly to stay put. But Lando has never been good at following directions.

The loud bang in the kitchen was what broke him. He walked down the hall, praying it was Max’s cat or maybe P came home early!

It was not.

Lando mentally swore at the sight. She stood on her toes, trying to reach a mug that was too high. One hand was braced on the counter as her foot popped up. Lando looked at the counter, ceramic pieces shattered on it which explained the loud noise.

He should turn away. He would have, if not for her little squeal as she finally got her fingers on a mug and hopped off the counter, looking directly at him.

It wasn’t her slow blink or the sight of her in a thin oversized shirt… though both those things had Lando close to losing it, It was her socks.

Thigh high, too tight, stark white… socks.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were here.” She smiles softly, turning around and bopping back to the kitchen island to finish her drink making.

She’s lying. Him Max Fewtrell were her teachers growing up, Lando sees right through her.

He clears his throat, “Uh yeah… I could say the same for you.”

She shoots him a small smile before looking back at her mug, the kitchen now filled with the familiar smell of hot chocolate. “Want a cup?” She asks, dipping the spoon in her mouth and slowly pulling it out.

He mindlessly sits across from her as she moves around the kitchen to make more, her hair bouncing behind her.

His eyes were glued to her as she slid around in those bloody socks. They were the same socks she wore all throughout highschool with her prissy little skirt and uniform top.

The same socks that she would flaunt as she draped her legs over the couch while Lando and Max were playing video games.

Lando knew she was in college now but that didn’t make the sight, or his thoughts, any better.

The completion of her outfit, a thin shirt that dipped right above the socks and made it clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra, did not help.

She slides a mug to him, smiling in that sweet and innocent way she always has. “Tell me if you like it. It’s a new recipe.” She sips her hot chocolate at the same time as Lando, her lipgloss being left as a kiss on the ceramic.

Lando nods, “It’s really fucking good.”

This makes her grin grow, biting her bottom lip to restrain herself, “Good. So, what are you doing here?”

Lando quirks a brow, “Max and I are filming later.”

She nods slowly, “Right…”

“Well what are you doing here?” He raises a brow, bringing the mug to his lips again.

“I’m on spring break.”

“And you’re spending it with your brother?”

“I just got back from cabo…” She says as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her tan did hint at it though. “I go back tomorrow though.”

“Ah, uni… how’s that going for ya?” He leans back in his chair as she backs up against the countertop.

“Great. Minus the guys.” She sighs purposefully, looking around the room. “How’s the whole F1 thing?”

He smiles at her tone, nodding, “Good.”

“You know! It’s funny… Max gets to go all the time, yet I'm never invited.” She pouts, crossing her legs.

“You never ask.” He makes a point to look at her in the eyes when saying it.

“I’m asking now.” Something about her voice screams DONT CROSS! DANGER! GO BACK! But Lando just sits up straighter.

“Fine then, come to australia.”

She finishes her drink, hopping up on the counter so her head is hitting the cabinets now. Lando sucks in a breath as she looks at him, “Only if I get to stay in your room.”

Christ he might just fall off this bloody chair.

“Stop that.” Lando shakes his head, leaning back in his chair and gripping his mug a little too tight.

“Stop what?” She smirks, completely mischievous and faking innocence.

“Being a little shit.”

She scoffs, jokingly. Putting a hand on her chest and frowning, “You wound me, Lan.”

“You not getting enough attention at school? Guys don’t fall at your feet everywhere you go?” It’s bad but the most he can do to stop his words is a mental slap on his face.

“They do… You’re just more fun to play with.”

“I’m too old for you.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t think it’s hot. Five years isn’t even that bad- Would it make you feel better if I said I’ve gotten with a fourt-”

“No!” He stops her, standing up and washing out his cup to busy himself, “It’s not just the age thing.”

“So you’d get with me if I wasn’t your best friend's sister?” He turns to look at her, her legs squeezed together and practically begging to be touched.

“I didn’t say that.”

Her shirt is riding up her thighs more and it makes Lando’s stomach drop. He licks his lips as she looks at him, “Lan.” she practically whines, “I need someone experienced.”

He shakes his head, his eyes still on her body as she rubs her thighs together, “I haven’t orgasmed in forever… at least, not from a guy.” He lets out a little sigh, walking closer.

“You can touch me.” She looks up at him, her eyes full of lust as the tightness in his pants grows.

“I shouldn’t.” He braces himself on either side of her.

“Then I'll touch myself.” It’s almost a whisper, but definitely a promise. She slips her hand under her shirt, making it pool around her thighs and teasing her cotton underwear.

Lando thinks he might be dreaming as she slips her hand into her panties, her breathing picking up as she leans her head back.

“Lan…” she whimpers, “Feels so good…” she locks eyes with him, his mouth slightly open as he watches her.

He watches her fingers move under the fabric, dipping farther as her moans grow louder. His hands slide from the marble to her thighs, just the outsides in an attempt to control himself.

He’s rock solid now, his hands gripping her legs and feeling the smooth fabric under his fingers. Her nipples are hard and poking through her shirt. Her eyes meet his again as he breathes harder, her hand slowly pulls away, dripping.

She’s holding it in front of his face, inching closer just for him to take her fingers in his mouth. She’s smirking wickedly as he sucks. “Good boy.” she whispers.

Her fingers leave his mouth with a ‘pop’ and just as he goes in to kiss her, she shakes her head and slips her hand into his hair, pushing down.

He watches her eyes as he dips down, pulling down her panties and replacing them with his tongue. She moans, loudly, at the contact.

Every doubt either of them had is gone now, replaced with pleasure and pure need.

She grips his hair as his hands hold her in place, his mouth sucking and linking as one of his hands moves up her shirt, grabbing her tit and making her moan louder.

Lando was in heaven, fucking her with his tongue and listening to her moan under his touch. That is, until she pulled him back up.

“Fewtrell.” He growled, neither of them done.

She pulled him closer, kissing him finally. She bites his lip a bit as he grinds into her, his hard length begging for attention. “Someone’s needy.” She teases as he kisses her harder, his tongue exploring her mouth while he fingers the top of her socks.

“Please.” He’s pretty sure it’s the first time he’s begged a girl for something.

“Please what?” Her breath is hot against his, “Use your words.”

“Let me fuck you.”

This satisfies her, a cheeky smile meeting him as his hands slowly pull off her shirt.

Her nipples are hard when he takes one into his mouth, her head falling back as he runs his tongue over it.

She reaches down and skillfully unzips his pants, moving her hand over his hard clothed dick. He’s throbbing, so sensitive to the touch he’s been waiting for.

“This for me?” She whispers as his head falls on her shoulder, her hand moving back and forth. He nods, unable to speak as she palms him.

He pulls off his pants and boxers, not even caring to get them off his legs before he lines up to her. “I don’t want you to regret this.” He whispers, out of breath and fully blinded by lust, but not stupid.

She looks straight into his eyes, “Fuck me, Lando.”

So he does, pushing into her and almost losing it straight away. He goes slow at first, watching her mouth shake and her head fall back. She grabs onto his shoulder, moaning loudly in the kitchen that’s neither of theirs.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She moans as he thrusts into her, biting her shoulder and kissing her neck, “Yes!”

He whimpers as she tightens around him, wanting to give her the one thing idiot college guys can’t.

She cums in a rush of heated breaths and her nails dragging over Lando’s skin. He cums seconds later on those snow white thigh highs.

He falls against her in a slump, her heart beating fast against him. She’s smiling still, running her hands through Lando’s curls and saying, “I’m definitely coming to australia.”

[hvbris]

@multipleoccupancy . Theo's family gets bigger

The Baudelaires had been in New York for a few days now, living in the house of their new guardian: Theodore Beneventi. New York reminded Violet of the town where she grew up, only bigger. Much, much bigger.

Mr. Beneventi, who had told them they could call him Theo, seemed like their most normal guardian so far. For starters, he was not afraid of turning on the stove, which was very nice, because it meant the Baudelaires could enjoy a warm meal for the first time in a few weeks. There were no snakes in the house either, which, to be fair, was to be expected. And of course, here, they were not ordered to do horribly long and difficult chores.

The other thing that differed from their last guardians, was that Theo already had a family. He had a wife, Andrea, two sons, and a baby daughter, who was already getting along great with Sunny.

Violet felt like their luck might have finally turned. Even the terrifying shadow of Count Olaf didn't seem as scary, considering that Theo was an FBI agent. She did not usually consider herself lucky, not since the terrible fire that had killed her parents, at least. But for the first time in months, she was feeling much more hopeful than usual.

And, it's with that noteworthy hopefulness that she left the room she shared with her siblings, and tip-toed to the kitchen. It was still early in the morning, but she was awake and craving a glass of milk.

"Good morning," she said politely when she saw that the kitchen area wasn't empty. Theo was already there. He was very nice, and she already felt comfortable around him, so she poured herself a glass of milk. "The view is very beautiful from here," she commented, not only to make conversation but also because it was true.

[mariasont]

can you do a story where hotch accidentally calls Y/N by her middle name and the rest of the bau are like "👁️👄👁️ who's (insert name)?" and then a cute or fluffy moment happens where Y/N's like "oh yeah only hotch calls me that" PLS PLS PLSSSS

SECRET NICKNAMES - A.H

a/n: the emojis are so accurate im crying you know that’s exactly how they reacted 😭 but loved loved loved writing this one. slightly self indulgent because my middle name is grace <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: just sticky sweet fluff & morgan being an instigator but what’s new!!

wc: 0.9k

It had been a long day. The conference room was a mess. It kind of resembled a battlefield of ideas and failed theories. Evidence photos lay in uneven stacks, some forgotten at the edges of the table while others remained underlined with question marks and red ink. The faint scratch of a pen and the occasional sigh were the only sounds. It was late, and exhaustion was beginning to creep in. Eyes drooped, postures sagged, but no one had yet dared to suggest calling it a night yet. 

You leaned back slowly, your chair tilting just enough to let you stretch your arms above your head. The weariness in your muscles felt almost tangible, meshing into every joint like a weight you let go of. Across from you, Hotch stood still as a statue, his arms crossed and gaze cutting through the evidence board.

"Alright, enough for tonight," he finally said firmly. "We'll reconvene tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. sharp."

The team didn't need to be told twice, practically jumping to their feet. Papers were scooped up, pens clicked shut, and chairs scraped back as everyone made their way out. But before you could slip away, Hotch's voice rang out, cutting cleanly through the room.

"Grace, can I see you for a moment?"

The team froze mid-movement. Morgan glanced over one shoulder, one brow raised, while Garcia’s head popped up from where she was stacking papers, lips parting in confusion. Reid, already halfway to the door, paused and turned, tilting his head like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t have all the pieces to.

JJ blinked, mouth “Grace?” to herself, clearly trying to place the name.

Emily squinted slightly before giving voice to what everyone was thinking. “Who’s Grace?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for an explanation as your eyes darted to Hotch, who seemed oblivious to the chaos he had just cause. Typical man.

Clearing your throat, you forced a sheepish smile.

“That would be me,” you admitted, lifting a hand awkwardly. “Grace is my middle name. Surprise!”

The room remained suspiciously quiet, and you could practically feel the questions they all were about to voice.

“Hotch calls me that sometimes,” you added quickly, somehow able to keep your voice semi-light despite the burn in your cheeks. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, this is interesting,” Morgan said, leisurely sinking back into his chair with folded arms.

JJ squinted. “Is this some sort of secret nickname situation?”

Emily raised a brow. “Does this happen often? Hotch calling you Grace?”

“So, Grace,” Morgan drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Care to explain why Hotch gets to call you that? Special privileges or—,”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you cut in, your voice cracked and it was unfortunately too loud to come off as anything but defensive. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal. He just—he just does sometimes, okay?”

“Oh it’s a big deal,” Garcia cut in dramatically. “What else don’t we know about you two?”

“Alright, enough.” Hotch cut in finally, shaking his head. “I told you all to go home. So go.”

Morgan made it halfway to the door before turning back.

“Y’know Hotch, if you wanted us out so bad, you could’ve just said it earlier. No need for the theatrics. We get it—‘Grace’ needs your undivided attention.”

Garcia gasped. “Morgan, you can’t just say that!”

But the damage was done, and the team left in a flurry of giggles and teasing comments, leaving you standing there, flustered and glaring at Hotch.

The second the door closed, you whirled around and smacked his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

“You know what that was for,” you said, crossing your arms. “Calling me Grace in front of them? Do you want me to be interrogated?”

His faint smile broke through. “It wasn’t intentional.

You shot him another glare which only served to turn that smile of his into a full blown laugh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said, corners of his eyes crinkling. “I wasn’t thinking—it’s the sleep deprevation.”

Before you could respond, he reached out, gently grabbing your face and smooshing your cheeks together. You were sure you resembled a fish, brows drawn, trying to remain scowling at him, but the position made it hard.

“Truce?” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you.

Your resolve crumbled the second his lips touched yours (It always did). The warmth of his touch practically seemed into your skin, and your muscles melted against him like butter in the sun. When he pulled back you stared up at him, dazed and breathless, trying to remember why you were mad.

“That was—,” You cleared your throat, fighting to ridiculous smile threatening to appear. “You can’t just do that to avoid getting in trouble.”

“Did it work?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’ll think about it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to weigh your options with the seriousness of someone deciding on a life-or-death matter.

“Alright,” you said slowly, drawing out each word. “I’ve thought about it.”

Grasping the lapels of his suit jacket, you pulled him down to you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that left no room for argument. When you pulled back, his smirk was still in place but his eyes were softer now and filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“But don’t think this gets you off the hook next time.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

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[shanastoryteller]

au where john doesn't go missing, dean never gets sam from stanford, and almost five years from when sam walked out on them and never looked back, dean gets a call from a sobbing woman telling him that sam's missing and she needs his help

dean and john go to palo alto where they meet jessica, an engagement ring and a thin gold band on her left hand, which is how they find out that there's one more person out there carrying the winchester name

they don't even get to linger over the fact that sam's married, that they're talking to his wife, because she tells him that he just disappeared, that she came home and he was missing but their living room was covered in sulpher

she tells him about the past two years, about how sam has been getting visions of other psychic children like him, some who had mothers that died in their nursery at six months, others that didn't. they met a lot of them, kept in regular contact, but the past few months they've been disappearing one by one and now sam's gone too

(jess keeps the telekinesis to herself, keeps the information about the demon to herself, doesn't breathe a word about the mind control or the super strength or electric shock or any of things that the other children could do that they'd been slowly testing to see if sam could do too. she's gone to dean and john because she has to but she doesn't forget that there's a reason sam hadn't gone to them when this all started happening, that instead he'd come clean to her about every lie about his life and told her to run, that something was coming for her and for him too

she hadn't run then and she won't now)

dean is losing his mind, all these things about his brother that he didn't know about and has to deal with, meanwhile john is quietly having a little mental breakdown, realizing this is the moment, where if he can't save his son then he's going to have to kill him

jess refuses to be left behind, reminds them pointedly that she's sam's wife and they're either doing this with her or not all

so dean and john have to deal with their sister in law / daughter in law tagging along and helping them track sam all while obviously not liking or trusting them an inch

[r3ynah]

Substitute

Danny as Phantom, bored out of his mind tried his best to keep his eyes open, this JL meeting, the meeting was about a cause of mind control or something, in short this was just boring,

he was here as a substitute for Constantine because that man ditched the last second, and left Phantom for himself.

His so gonna push the man off the ledge when he sees him.

Danny continued to dissociate, until he heard a familiar name, coming out of the dark knight's mouth.

"Ember? the popstar? batman do you really think she's the one doing this mind control thing?" Flash asked, he was also almost falling asleep until the popstar's name was said. "Man, Ember's songs are such a vibe, hope she's not some supervillain"

"It is not confirmed, All we know is that she might only be a meta civilian that really just wants to show the world her songs" Wonder woman reasoned, from the far end of the table.

"Until further notice, we shall gather some crimes she unknowingly did, and have her quarantined for the mean time." Batman stated at the other side of the table.

wait what? Quarantine Ember? His rogue and friend, no that wouldn't do.

"I need to disagree with you there Mr. Batman" Phantom called out gaining all the members attention

"And why is that, Phantom?" Superman asked for Batman, who only stared at the ghost with curiosity.

"Well, you did specifically said that members cannot, mess with other members rogues" Phantom exclaimed "If you mess with Ember you're practically breaking your own rules,"

"The Ember, is your rogue?" Flash said astonished. "Wait that means she's also a ghost like you, But why are you just letting her go around the world parading?"

"Yes she's a ghost like me, i let her parade the world because she's on a vacation I mean this whole world tour speaks for itself, putting her in quarantine will do no good for her or anyone, and the whole mind controlling thing is so last season for Ember, she just sucks the energy out of people who hear her songs so she herself can have energy." Phantom explained, floating down to sit on his designated chair. "Besides I keep track of her, to make sure she doesn't create havoc and overdue her powers, she hasn't mind controlled anyone that's for sure."

Phantom eyed batman who still remained, quiet, he looked like he was thinking of something deeply, whatever it was Danny didn't care as long as Ember and the other ghosts are safe.

"And how would you guarantee that Ember won't harm any human citizens?" Batman questioned.

"Oh that's easy, because I already told them what will happen, if they either try to hurt humans" Danny let out a smile that showed all his sharp fangs, his eyes glowed a toxic green, that made everyone in the room uncomfortable, his hair floated more aggressively and uncontrollably. "I think they got the message."

Everyone felt scared at that moment, just who the hell did Constantine, bring in here?