#Every few months i’ll have to tell you what i’m thinking about studying next so you can pick what you’d most want to hear me infodump about😂

[notjanine]

i am so beyond tired beyond burnout, i went out for coffee this morning and when i placed my order, the barista so gently asked “would you like an extra shot of espresso in that? it’s on the house” and i almost cried. people good sometimes

[rafecameroninterlude]

omg congrats on the 5k! can i order a freshly baked slice of warm vanilla cake [🍰] for bitchykook! reader + “you wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid” + smut

warnings: kinda mean!reader lol, rafe is desperateeee, oral sex (f. receiving), rafe finishes in his pants (!!!)

rafe wasn’t a desperate guy. he could have any girl he wanted, except you of course, and that drove him crazy. he was so used to girls bending at his will, that when he made advances towards you and you outright rejected him, it threw him for a loop. “fuck a guy that’s been in every bed in figure eight? no, thank you.” you blew him a kiss, walking off with a laugh as your friends cackled alongside you. rafe’s ego had definitely taken a blow that night, and it was from that point forward that he decided to make it a mission to get you to say yes to him.

he would find out where you and your clique would be for the evening and show up, buying rounds of drinks for you and your girlfriends, only to not be acknowledged or even waved at by you. rafe couldn’t crack you and he hated it. taking it a step further, he managed to get dozens of flowers sent over to your house, a pathetic little card with the words ‘just one time.’ written in gold script was folded into one of the bouquets. the next time you saw him, he wasted no time in asking if you’d received his ‘romantic’ gesture. “i did actually! but just for future reference, roses aren’t my favorite. bye now!”

you had left rafe at a loss for words, and feeling more defeated than ever. apart of you would feel bad if he was begging for a chance to actually be with you instead of just using you to add to his list. that was one of the reasons why you were being so cruel to him, the second reason being; you loved to see the drop in his shoulders everytime he thought he had you. a few weeks had passed, and you were throwing a party for your best friend, the entirety of figure eight taking over your home. “i’ll be right back, i’m going to go get your gift.” your bestie squealed excitedly as you went upstairs to your bedroom.

walking over to your closet, you had grabbed the glittery pink gift bag, your door clicking shut as you fixed the white tissue paper peeking at the top. “chanel! this is supposed to be a surprise..” you looked up, being met with rafe instead. “what do you think you’re doing in here?” you arched a brow at him, jutting your hip out as he fiddled with his fingers. “i just wanna talk.” he held his hands up defensively. narrowing your eyes at him, you placed chanel’s gift on your nightstand before taking a seat at the edge of your bed. “well.. talk.” you watched as he lowered himself to his knees.

you laughed. “rafe, what the hell?” you let him rest his hands on your thighs. “why won’t you give me a chance?” his eyebrows were drawn together, a pleading expression on his face. “a chance to get me out of my panties?” rafe sighed. “you want it that bad?” you weren’t surprised, rafe wasn’t the first man to get on his knees for you. “yes, i’m begging.” you studied him for a moment. “i’ll tell you what..” you leaned forward, “you could have a taste.” rafe’s fingers curled into your skin, nodding frantically as he spread your thighs apart. you watched him slide the lace material of your underwear down your legs, your dress pooling at your waist.

rafe cursed at the sight of your bare cunt. he’s been fantasizing about this for months. “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” he marveled, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes fluttering closed when you felt his tongue run up your glossy folds. “oh my god- you taste so good.” while everyone knew rafe to be an intimidating man with an even rougher exterior, you had him crying at the fact that he got to eat you out. so, so, so pathetic. rafe was already hard as a rock, his cock straining painfully against his jeans.

“holy fuck, i can’t believe this is happening.” he felt his chest bloom with pride when he made you moan, desperate to make you do it again. his tongue worked skillfully on your clit as he palmed himself to relieve some tension in his groin. you couldn’t deny the way rafe had you melting into his touch, your skin sore from where he had a bruising grip on your thigh. you reached down, nails running across his head as he ate you like a man starved. “rafe..” you whimpered, hips chasing his mouth as your voice echoed in his ears. he could die happy knowing you moaned his name.

rafe was still palming himself through his pants, a groan leaving his lips when he felt his cock twitch with need. “please let me fuck you.” he gazed up at your pretty face, meeting your eyes as if to persuade you to let him have his way. “just the tip, baby, please.” you shook your head, propping yourself up on your elbows. “you wanna fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” soon after you said those words, you were shaking in his arms as he brought you to your orgasm, a cry leaving your lips. rafe’s eyes widened. you weren’t the only one who made a mess.

he brought you down from your high, cursing under his breath when he looked down and saw a wet patch on the front of his jeans. following his eyes, you placed a hand over your mouth aa you gasped at the sight. “oh my god, did you cum in your pants, ‘cameron?” you giggled using your heel clad foot to push him away. “you should probably go home and clean yourself up..” was the last thing you said before leaving him alone and taking chanel’s gift downstairs.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

surprise!

oscar piastri x reader

summary - after a few long months of not being able to see each other - y/n at university, oscar racing and training - reader is feeling the blues of long distance. until a certain surprise comes her way. 

masterlist

-

it was final exam season. final exams. instead of the calm before the storm, you would argue they were the storm before the calm. finals stressed you out beyond belief, they were always harder than what your professor claimed, always had information on them that wasn’t on the study guide, and you were constantly swamped with work. you didn’t have time for anything but studying.

but after. after. you would be out of school for the summer, finals off your mind, school off your mind, and you’d get to see your sweet, sweet boy. you and oscar had been going out for a year now, you knew the routine of both of you not being able to see each other often, or call often - your schedules so opposite it was constantly a game of phone tag. but summer was your time. you were out of school, thank god, and he usually had only a few races left - that you got to tag along to - and then it was his break. and you both could bask in each others presence before the school year and his season starts yet again. 

the good news was that you had only a year left of school, the bad news was that you had a whole year left of school. you were usually a glass half-full kind of girl, but at times when the stress wore you down, and the facetime call to your boyfriend was missed, you needed a break before you lost it. 

it was now the second time you tried to call oscar, trying to reach him on the verge of your mental breakdown as you were staring at books and your computer for the last four hours. 

“hi, baby, sorry my phone was in my room,” he answered the call with a smile on his face, “how are you doing?”

“i’m fine,” you mumble out through the phone, your boyfriend frowning at the solemn disposition read across your face, “just miss you,”

“i know baby,” he gives you a sad smile, “i miss you too,”

“what were you up to?” you ask him, taking every opportunity to hear his voice and see his face.

“i was just with lando and alex in logan’s room for a bit, we were playing this new game,” his eyes brighten a bit as he speaks, happy to see your eyes lighting up as well on the other end of the call. 

“oh really? that sounds fun, tell me about it,” you urge, not fully caring much about this video game, but also loving watching oscar speak with passion and humor - a great distraction from the mess of work you had left on your desk. 

oscar drabbles on for a few more minutes, giving you stories about how lando died in the game and almost broke the controller, logan almost falling off his chair from laughter, alex and oscar making fun of the both of them, and so on. you sit on your bed holding a large smile on your face, happy to finally be connected to your boyfriend and talking to him. 

“what else do you have tonight?” he asks you the dreaded question and you roll your eyes, breathing out a huff of air as you do so. 

“so much, i still have two essays to finish up, but it’ll just be some finishing touches,” you sigh, “thanks for reminding me,” you add on sarcastically with a laugh. oscar laughs with you, glad that you aren’t too stressed and can still joke around. 

“well that’s good,” coming down from the shared giggles, his face turns a bit more serious as he asks his next question, “what are you doing tomorrow?”

“um,” you think for a minute, a bit uneasy about his quick change in demeanor, “just studying for tomorrow, because the next day - that’s tuesday, right?” you ask him, or yourself, quickly before seeing him nod through your screen, “yeah, tuesday’s my last final and then i’ll be flying out to you on wednesday!” you end your little ramble with a cheer. 

“i’m so excited, baby,” he chuckles at your happiness, “i can’t wait to see you,” 

“me too,” you smile back at him, the unspoken words of love dangling between you two as your eyes and smiles don’t leave each other, “i wish it would come sooner, though,”

“yeah,” he agrees, clearing his throat a bit, “listen, i’ve got an early flight out of here tomorrow so i’ll call you then,” he now moves to end the call, “and you’ve got some essays to finish up,”

“trying to get me off the phone, piastri?” you ask with a giggle.

“ugh yes, i hate talking to you,” he laughs out with insincerity. 

“okay,” you fake frown, “i can take a hint,”

“shut up, y/n, you know i’m joking,”

“i know,” you laugh, “call me tomorrow, i love you,”

“i love you too, baby,” you blow each other light kisses and hang up the phone. groaning and stretching, you move over to your desk and stare at all of the work you have yet to finish. 

“one more year, y/n, one more year,” you whisper to yourself to gain some momentum. wiping the tears that accidentally escaped quickly, you shake your head and pick up your pen, ready to finish off your second to last year. 

-

you woke up to books sprawled across your bed, having tried to study a bit before you fell asleep the night before. a distant ringing had you coming out of the sleepy fog, your eyes still closed and your hand slapping around the bed in order to quiet the sound. once your phone was found, your eyes squinted open and you immediately gained energy when you saw who was calling.

“hey, osc,” you’re morning voice evident, leading you to clear your throat a little.

“hi, baby,” you hear through the phone. it was odd for oscar to not call you over facetime, his constant push for ‘seeing your cute face’ was all you heard about, “i’m sorry, were you sleeping?”

“yeah, but i needed to get up anyways,” you groan, now stretching in your bed, fully waking up. 

“can’t waste a minute of studying?” he asks you, you hear voices in the background and some wind, assuming he was walking towards his destination.

“yeah,” you chuckle, “where are you? i can barely hear you over the wind,”

“oh um, about that,” he sighs, “i took a detour,” your eyebrows knit in confusion, wondering where he would have gone other than back home. 

“oh?” you ask him, now hearing a knock on your door.

“you should get that, y/n,” oscar laughs through the phone.

“what?”

“the door, baby, go get the door,” finally understanding what you had hoped he was implying, you jump out of your bed, out of your bedroom, and towards your front door, swinging it wide open to come face to face with your boyfriend. 

“oscar,” you breathe out, dropping your phone and rushing into his awaiting arms, “oh my god,” you begin to cry, holding onto him tighter. he returns the emotions, holding you and rocking you, soaking up all of what he had missed so much. 

“couldn’t last one more day without seeing you,” he whispers into your hair, now walking you both further into your apartment and shutting your door. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into his hoodie that your face was buried into, “i’m so happy,”

“me too, baby, me too,” he just sighs, breathing in your scent he had missed so much. finally pulling apart, his left hand comes up to hold the back of your neck, kissing you softly and feverishly. your antsy lips accept, your right arm coming to grab the neck of his hoodie and pull him closer, if that was even possible. 

breaking apart for air, your foreheads lean onto each other as you both bask in the feeling of being able to hold each other once again. 

“i-um,” you clear your throat a bit, “i’ve got studying to do, i’m sorry-”

“no, no,” he cuts you off, kissing you again, “baby, i know you’ve got to study, i just wanted to be with you,”

“okay,” you smile, grabbing his hand and leading him into your bedroom, he takes a look around at the books and papers spread everywhere and just laughs. 

“you are the same chaotic girl every finals season,”

“that’s the only way i know how to be,” you shrug at his joke, pulling out your desk chair and opening your computer, “i’m gonna throw my headphones on so you can watch the tv or something if you want,”

“okay, baby,” he places a kiss to the top of your head, moving to lay down on your bed and flip the tv onto his favorite show. 

he sits there for a moment, watching your pen spin in your hand, then moving to flip open a book, then moving to type on your computer, and he is in awe. you always told him you loved watching him in the garage because seeing him be intelligent and passionate was attractive as well as endearing. he finally understands what you meant. watching the person he loves be in her element was not only beyond attractive, it was inspiring. to see you push yourself and dedicate yourself was beautiful. and he knew he was the luckiest man on the planet. 

“what?” you turn and look at him, taking out one of your headphones. 

“nothing,” he smiles back at you, watching you turn around and get back to work.

-

[syd-djarin]

private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

banner by: @cafekitsune

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

 “I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”. 

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too. 

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness. 

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story. 

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time. 

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude,  adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him. 

Or you. 

Whatever. 

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night. 

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open. 

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes. 

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that. 

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving. 

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to. 

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop. 

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry. 

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips. 

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity. 

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment. 

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth. 

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely. 

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again. 

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

[pit-and-the-pen]

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 2

Sorry this update took a little longer, I had some personal stuff going on and my work schedule was pretty packed this week.

Also, this is a fix-it fic. It'll be following the events of the whole series so buckle in y'all. Also also, I shit on Tamlin a lot in these next chapters but it has a purpose I promise!

Chapter warnings: Warnings: Mention of abuse/ trauma, one comment about weight in terms of said said abuse , minor blood

WC: 9.6K

Read the previous parts here

[prologue] [chapter 1]

Next Part [here]

“Rhys is the most handsome High Lord.” I read line after line of similar words. I rolled my eyes at my brother's antics. 

“He’s sure laying it on thick.” I say as I sat down next to Feyre. She looks up from her writing and gives me a guarded laugh. 

“At least I’m entertaining.” She huffs out. 

“I can help you too, if you want. Give you a break from him.” She raises her eyebrow at me, studying me with a look that made me want to sink in on myself. 

“Why?” She asks sharply  

I willed my temper down. “Because despite what Tamlin might tell you, we’re not evil,” I spit out at her, she doesn’t flinch even slightly at the venom in my voice. “And you’re going to be here once a month for the foreseeable future. I’d like us to at least tolerate each other. Plus, it would piss off my brother.” Her eyes shone with mischief.

“You should have started with that.” And that was that. I pushed Rhys’ papers to the side and picked out a few books that had been my favorite. The plots are interesting enough to make up for the basic words used. Feyre caught on fairly easily. She could recognize almost all of the basic words but struggled to read them out loud. Not fully understanding how the sounds mashed together. We sat and read, and then when that got to be too much for her we just started talking. It was nothing deep, not really gossip either. Just casual words thrown back and forth until she asks out of the blue. “What’s the deal with Tamlin and Rhys?” I froze into stillness only fae possessed. Sensing my discomfort she backtracked. “You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have asked.” Her voice held a little edge of fear. I forced my shoulders to relax. 

“No, you have every right to ask. It’s…complicated. You’re walking into centuries old distrust and unfortunately, are caught in the middle.” It wasn’t fair to her to be caught in all of this old shit. That was our baggage and I could see it was affecting her but she pressed on.

“But why do they hate each other so much?”

“I’m not the best person to ask.” She narrowed her eyes at my non-answer. I sighed. “We’ve both done some terrible things to each other's courts, the wounds run deep and that’s all I’ll tell you.”

“Why?” She would not let up. 

“Because you love Tamlin. And I don’t want you to think I’m trying to ruin whatever picture you have of him.” That really seemed to pique her curiosity. 

“You had a different experience with him?” It felt like she had punched me in the stomach. No. That’s the problem, I had the exact same experience with him and I ended up just as broken as I can see you’re becoming. 

“That’s not a story for today.” I tried to keep the shake out of my voice and maybe it was that, or the fear I know I couldn’t keep off of my face that made her drop the subject with a small, “okay”. 

It was lunch time before we decided to take a break.  “Do you want to eat here or go out with the others?” 

“Rhys will just pull me out if I don’t.” 

“My brother can fuck off. What do you want to do?” I saw a ghost of a smile twitch across her face. So we ate in the library. I left only long enough to stack up two plates full of food. Rhys took in the amount of food I was grabbing, 

“Hungry today?” I only stuck my tongue out at him and walked back out of the room. 

Rhys joined us a little after lunch. If he was surprised to still see me in here, he didn’t let it show. I didn’t leave until Feyre told me she was okay with me doing so. 

It was probably overkill to be so protective of her, Rhys was the last person who would ever try to hurt her or anything like that but she was still uneasy around him. She hid it well with the sheer disdain she showed him but I could tell from the rigidness of her shoulders and that slight edge in her voice. But there was also something else there that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

Feyre had stayed in the library long after their meeting. I found her hunched over another book, finger slowly tracing over the words. She hardly looked up as I placed another plate of food in front of her and went to walk out of the room. She didn’t call after me and I was okay with that. Scared she might start another round of questions. 

I didn’t see much of her after that. So I traveled back and forth between Velaris. Spending half my time at the manor and the other half actually doing my job as researcher. I really didn’t have to work but it gave me something to fill up my days. Before Amarantha I spent most of my time helping Cassian manage the Illyrians, from the background of course. Being the High Lords sister did not save me from their views on females. So I only showed up when necessary, Azriel and Cassian always following behind me. They learned fast enough to keep their tongues in check if they wanted to keep them in their mouths. 

Currently I was looking at old maps of Prythian. Combining through records for landscapes and t river patterns. Where the boundaries have shifted over time. And then came the daunting task of trying to pick out recountings of the old war. Figuring out who does best with what court. Prepping for the outcome we were all dreading, another war with Hybern. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to get from these books.” Cassian said, absently flipping through the large leather bound book I had just placed to the side. 

“Anything. Weakness, strengths, strategies, gods, anything.” I said leaning back. I knew I had to take a break, when I closed my eyes I could still see the words swirling in the blackness behind my eyelids. I took a deep breath and went to look at the giant map I had covered my desk with. Pins and markers to recount every movement during the last war. 

“Do you really think that it’s going to help?” I know he wasn’t trying to be rude. His voice was soft when he asked and my shoulders sunk in slightly. 

“I don’t know. But if it does…” He nodded in understanding. Azriel knocked lightly on the door, making both Cas and I jump. He had learned to knock now after he had to dodge out of the way of the book I had launched at him last week. I still haven't reaccustomed myself to how quiet his footsteps could be. A skill I had once prided myself on, I had even been able to pick up on those silent footsteps and find him before he wanted to be seen. 

“Just wanted to remind you two to eat.” He looked at the books strewn across the table, taking note of the one Cassian was still flipping through, playing with truly. “I know how you can get when you’re focused. Time for food.” He smiled at the shy look I gave him from being called out. Many times he had to drag me out of my office when I really got into something. His smile made me think he was remembering those times too. 

“If we go, will you two stop making eyes at each other?” Cassian spoke up, making me break away from Azriel’s stare. 

“We were not.” I responded, trying to tame the blush in my cheeks. Get it together. I told myself as I forced myself to turn to Cas. His eye roll was the only answer I got. Azriel had already started walking down the hall and I slapped Cassian on the arm.

“You’re so annoying sometimes Cas.”

“And you love me for it.” He gave me a loud, wet peck on the cheek and gave a full head-thrown-back laugh when I made a big show of wiping it off. 

I didn't return to the other house that night. Opting to stay with my friends. One of whom, Cassian, had gone into the wine cellar and returned with his arms almost full of the expensive bottles. I just laughed as he shot me a wink. I blew him a kiss back as I settled down on the couch besides Mor. 

We didn’t bother getting glasses, passing the bottles around while we talked about absolutely nothing, acting like we had during our teenage years. It was later in the night before Rhys appeared in the living room. He took one look at all of us and rolled his eyes before he swiped the bottle out of my hand and brought it to his lips. 

Mor and I were fully supporting each other's weight on the couch, I couldn’t tell who was leaning against who more but our giggles started to get louder and more frequent. She whispered to me so quietly I had to strain to hear her. “Stop staring at him.” And we fell into another fit of giggles.

She was right though, everytime Azriel talked I could feel how my eyes stayed locked on him. Reminding myself to breathe when he pulled the bottle to his lips. I pushed off of Mor and went to stand up, wobbling slightly as my feet touched the ground. Azriel made a move like he was going to catch me if I took a face first dive on the carpet but when I steadied myself, he moved back. It happened so fast I wonder if I imagined it.

“I think it’s bedtime.” I said, mouth feeling mushy as the words came out. Mor laughed again and I turned to face her and gave her a rude gesture. I offered that same hand to pull her up to her feet and she pouted before taking it. Everyone seemed to get the hint that it was late so all of us in our various drunken states started the climb up the stairs to our rooms. Good nights thrown through the hallways, Cassian all but screaming it to make sure Mor and I heard him. The sound made us flinch before laughing again as I closed the door to my room. 

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

Before I knew it Feyre’s week was officially up. She had demanded to be brought back home and I fought down the biting comments I wanted to make as Rhys agreed. I stepped besides the pair and she looked over to me for a brief second before pretending that neither of us existed. 

“You don’t have to come with me. Rhys spoke into my mind and replied with a shake of my head. I could do this for Feyre. Despite every part of my body screaming at me for bringing her back to the Spring court, if she could be brave then so could I. He sighed at my stubbornness but knew that there was no changing my mind. 

We weren’t going far. Simply dropping her at the border of spring and summer and making sure she got into the manor. I could manage that. Yet as we were getting ready to winnow in, I felt my hands go clammy. I remember me saying I’ll never go back there willingly.

The smell was the first thing that hit me. The overwhelming floral scent. I could smell the roses from the outside of the manor this far away, their sheer number coating the air with a smell that threatened to suffocate me on the spot. 

“Goodbye, Feyre.” She had already started walking before he finished speaking, not sparing so much as a glance back to us. So we stood and watched her retreating figure until those wooden doors closed behind her. That was that. 

We didn’t return to Hewn city, instead winnowing outside the townhome. 

Rhys didn’t stay to greet our friends. Instead, he all but ran up the stairs to either go to his study or his room. Everyone gave me a tentative look before I shrugged and sprawled out on the couch besides Azriel. 

He didn’t try to pull away from me. Instead, he lifted his hands from their spot on his lap. His way of telling me I could place my legs up so I didn’t have to sit awkwardly to avoid his wings. I did and I ignored how happy that little gesture made me. Over the last few weeks he seemed to be able to handle being around me again.

Cassian started rapid firing questions at me. What is she like? She threw what at Rhys? Anything for scraps of what their brother's mate was actually like. Sure they had gotten the story of her trials but this was different, getting to know who she actually was. Cassian seemed pleased to know she was still just as head strong. “Maybe someone will finally humble him a little.” He chuckled 

 Rhys spoke up as he entered the room. “Who’s humbling who?” He picked at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder. The only sign of how upset sending Feyre back had made him. 

Cassian didn’t answer but instead asked “Did she really throw a shoe at you?” He laughed when Rhys shot me a dirty look. Answering the question for him. “I want to meet her.” Cassian said and I swore he was almost pouting. 

Rhys sighed, “And have you scare her off.” Cassian looked hurt so Rhys added, “Let her get more adjusted to me before we add all of this into the mix. Besides, she cannot see Velaris. Not when…” not when she came back to Tamlin. Not when she could still spill every little secret of ours to one of our biggest enemies. 

Cas looked like he wanted to argue but only said “Princess gets to see her.” 

“Because I have a winning personality.” I smiled at him and he launched one of the small pillows from his chair at me. I managed to deflect it but as it bounced off my arm it hit Azriel square in the face. I bit down my laughter at his faux outraged face. He threw it back and before I knew it, they were yelling at each other, well Cas was yelling and Azriel was trying his hardest not to laugh.Sensing a fight was emanate, I pushed off of Azriel and spoke loudly over the two Illyrian males. 

“Outside if you’re going to fight.” Even Armen, who had stalked into the room around as Rhys laughed at that. 

Cassian turned to me, his temper still flaring. “We’re not dogs.” 

“Last time you both fought in the house, I was cleaning up glass for a week.” I raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to say otherwise. 

Azriel spared Cassian from having to respond. “C’mon.” He said, pulling Cassian to what I could only assume was the training ring. 

“I forgot how much you look like Rhys when you get bossy.” Cassian said as he was pulled from the room. And my responding gesture made the rest of the room go up in laughs. Rhys followed them out. Probably needing to get rid of his own tension and Armen had snuck back into the research room. 

I didn’t have it in me to just stare at maps all day long, regardless of knowing how much I needed to. So I just stayed in the living room, a random book from the shelf pulled onto my lap. 

Rhys came back first, hair only slightly disheveled, wings out proudly. “Once I get out of the bath, it’s time for your training.” I huffed and he could sense I was about to argue with him. “Cassian and Azriel told me you can’t use your powers.” Traitors. “So we’re going to figure out what the hel is wrong.” 

Less than an hour later I was sitting in Rhys’ study. A small candle flickering in front of me, taunting me to snuff it out. I pulled and pulled for any of the small dark tendrils to do so but found nothing. Sweat was beginning to form on my brow with how hard I was concentrating. 

Rhys huffed in frustration at my lack of progress. “It was easier teaching Feyre to read.” 

“Then by all means, go back to that. I’d love to see her throw another shoe at you.” I bit back at him and he just rolled his eyes. 

“Try again.” He went right back to business, ignoring my statement. I really did try. I Have been trying. That rich darkness that normally lingered under my skin seemed like it was hidden behind a wall. Just out of my grasp, so close I could almost taste it, almost touch it. I yelped as I reached out towards it. Pain flickering through my body as if it had burned me. Rhys’ hand on my shoulder snapped me out of whatever had happened. Sweat broke across my skin and I flinched as I felt my magic fight against the wall inside my head. 

“What’s happening?” I spoke to my brother. He just stared at me before I felt a phantom knock at my mental shields. I forced them open and almost screamed at the pain that flooded through me. I knew the moment he found it. Felt that sickening thread of magic that never released when the spell broke for the other high lords. Rhys’ presence in my head retreated and we could only look at each other. No words to be found between us. 

“Fuck.” The first word he uttered and I somehow found it in myself to laugh. 

“That bad?” 

“Good news is there’s not a physical block. No magic stopping you.” So why did he still look like death froze over? “Bad news, you’re the block.” 

“Go on?” 

“I don’t fully know but it looks like your magic is being tied up by your own magic.” 

“So, you’re saying. I’m the problem?”

“I’ve been saying that your whole life but yes, especially in this case.” He teased, trying to lighten the new tension in the air. I bite 

“Well then that simply means you’re going to be stuck with me a lot more. That or I go to Helion.” He rolled his eyes at the mention of the other high lord, one who has been trying for the last few centuries to get me into his bed. 

“Maybe.” shit. It must be serious if he’s actually willing to let Helion help. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to that.” He says solemnly and points back to the candle. I stare at him for a moment before sighing and trying to cover the light again. 

We sit as I try again and again and again. Nothing besides a small puff of black smoke to let us know that I’m even trying. Right as I’m about to say something I see Rhys flinch and his eyes flare with anger. Only not at me, his eyes look far away as that anger homes in on whatever must have made his shoulders tense. 

I see his eyes come back into focus and I don’t even have to ask before he’s spilling. “He hurt her.” I don’t need him to say who. “I can tell it’s nothing serious but I got nothing but pure fear from her.” Rhys had already explained that the bargain amplified the usual effects of the mating bond. That he could sometimes get whiffs of any strong emotion from Feyre. Fear, anger, mostly fear but as her nightmares have started to fade I haven't heard much about it. My stomach curls and I try to will my hands to not shake as my mind drifts to the endless possibilities of what could have happened. 

“It’ll be okay. She’s strong.” The words felt wrong in my mouth and Rhys said the very thing I had been thinking.

“You were strong.” 

“Well you can’t very well march in there and get her.” I saw the look on his face. “You can’t, we can’t. And she still doesn’t want us. Unless it feels like that first time…” He shook his head. So not as bad. Still bad, still awful enough for her to send fear down the bond but not bad enough that Rhys could only hear her screaming for someone to get her out of there. So we both let it go, ignored the thoughts that told every part of us to go help this girl from whatever Tamlin was inflicting. But even I knew that Tamlin’s anger comes from his love. That anger so wrapped in fear that something will happen that he almost wills those incidents into existence. 

We spend hours trying to break whatever block is in my head until I’m grumpy and all but biting his head off at every little comment he makes. He bites right back at me and I know there's no point in this anymore, both of us too on edge to do anything productive. Throwing his hands up in surrender he doesn’t stop me as I storm out of his study. I run head first into Azriel on my way to my room, his hands resting on my arms so I don’t topple over. 

“Training went that well.” He says with a small chuckle. The noise sends a low growl from my throat and he takes his hands off of me. “We’ll figure this out.” He says and I continue my path to my room, not staying long enough to see the concern in his eyes. 

I was still grumpy by the time that dinner rolled around but I managed to pull myself out of bed. My head is pounding from the strain and whatever Rhys did inside my mind. I throw on the first thing I find, still in my thin nightgown I pulled on after my bath, and head down to dinner. I don’t say much and not even Cassian tries to cheer me up, all he does is remind me that I’m joining them for training in the morning. I don’t respond with anything other than stabbing the chicken on my plate with extra force. 

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

I struck the center of the dummy and looked over for Cassian for any semblance of approval. He gave me a bored look and I stomped over to the stupid thing and pulled all three of the daggers out of it. Cas wanted me to get back up to snuff with long range before he put a sword in my hand again. I had never needed the sword that I kept strapped to my back on the missions I would accompany Azriel on, always having my powers to stop anyone from getting that close in the first place. Between Azriel shadows and my blanket of darkness, very rarely did we ever need anything more than truth teller. 

I grunted in frustration as the sharp metal flew through my fingers time after time, all of them hitting the center of the target. 

“Fuck this Cas, I did the warm ups, I did the exercises. Let me fight.” I needed to do something more than this. If I couldn’t use my powers, if they never came back, I needed to be useful. In no world would I just sit around and let my friends risk death while I sat around playing with my maps. Cassian must have heard the desperation in my voice because he agreed. 

We circled each other and I got a rare glimpse of Cassian with no restraint. This was the war general that scared people just by being on the battlefield. I tried not to let the frision of fear show as he surveyed every inch of me, seemingly reading my body language like I was screaming my next moves at him. I didn’t stand a chance. His fist made contact with my nose before I could turn out of the way and I fell to the ground. My hand went up and when I pulled it back, my fingers were sticky with my blood. Cassian was instantly in front of me, mumbling out apologies. I held up my hand to stop him from talking. 

“Cassian.” A stern voice called out as I ran my hand along my nose again, feeling for any breaks. “What did you do to her?” Azriel’s voice was full of concern as he knelt besides Cassian. 

“Alright bat brains. I’m not dying,” I started to stand up and they both reached out their hands to help me up, I swatted them away and brushed off the dust on my pants. “It’s not the first time I’ve been too slow before, and it’s not going to be the last.” They both stared at me and I rolled my eyes. “C’mon. I still have to beat you Cas.” He shook his head laughing and Azriel shot him a glare. 

Cassian, never one to back down from a challenge, and never one to miss an opportunity to piss off Azriel, agreed to go back into the ring with me. He coached me through it this time, slowing down his punches to explain how to predict them and block them. All things that I knew but just needed more practice. By the end of the hour I was covered in sweat but I was able to block him without his guidance. Azriel didn’t leave either, hanging back to watch, adding his own little tips and tricks to help me get some advantage over Cassian but I still couldn’t get him to budge an inch. 

“Do you want to get in with her then?” Cassian shouted to Azriel as he continued to assist me from the side lines. I made a motion for Cassian to stop as I tried to catch my breath. Placing my hands on my knees and sucking in screaming breaths. 

“I think I’m done.” I panted out.

“If you wanted me to make you breathless princess, all you had to do was ask.” He winked and tossed a canteen full of water over to me. I drank half of it in one long gulp and forced myself to stand up straight. My muscles were already crying out in protest. Tomorrow was going to suck for sure. 

The three of us walked back up to the house, laughing and joking and I felt proud of the progress I was making. Even if the dried blood still on my hands might have suggested otherwise. 

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

A month went by so fast, I had to tick off the days to make sure I was right.I woke up to Rhys preparing to collect Feyre from the spring court again. Rhys didn’t ask me to go with him this time, after that last flood of emotions he knew he would have a hard time containing himself let alone both of us. 

I was already waiting at the house for when they got back, ready to play mediator if need be. They had barely materialized before my brother was fussing over Feyre. The two bickered back and forth but from the way she looked over herself, I knew even she could hear the worry in his voice. She had lost more weight since the last time she had been here. The shadows under her eyes creeped back onto her pale skin. “Eat breakfast with me.” He said and I shifted from my place in the living room. Mor was somewhere in the house after her visit to the Court of Nightmares yesterday. Probably still decompressing with the bottle of wine she took with her to bed. 

I gave Feyre a small smile and she didn’t return it, but she didn’t glare at me either. It’s a step at least. The female in front of me gave a heavy sigh after weighing Rhys offer. The growl I heard come from her stomach seemed to make the decision for her. I didn’t follow them, if she had wanted me to I would have been able to tell. So I stayed close enough that I could swoop in and save her from my brother's overprotectiveness if need be. The glimpses of their conversation I caught weren’t the best but I stilled completely as I caught, 

“I was tortured, beaten and fucked until only I could tell myself who I was, what I was protecting. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.” My heart ached at the words. He had had it so much worse than I did, regardless of what people might believe. I could see it on his face during some of his bad days, the scars of what Amarantha did to him. I didn’t listen to her response as I walked to my room. 

I found Feyre the next day as I had the last time, hunched over the table with more lines from Rhys to read. She was copying them in better handwriting than she had before. When I approached she didn’t so much as look up at me. I called her name gently and still nothing. So I took that as my sign to let her be. Rhys had gotten called to the war camps later that day. 

“Just look after her please. I know she’s fine but let me know if either of you need anything.” He blabbered as I all but pushed him out the door. 

“We’ll be fine, you overprotective mother hen.” His face fell slightly and I couldn’t stand that look on his face. “I’ll let you know if she needs anything, okay? Now go be a High Lord.” I saw a hint of a smile as he winnowed out of the house. 

I tried to stay out of her way. Whatever bit of goodwill she had allowed me last time seemingly disappeared. So I kept bringing her books when she ran out of the ones Rhys had given her, brought her food and left her to her own devices. Today, she didn’t give me a glare as I sat down in the armchair on her left. I opened my own book without giving her a second glance. The small hmph she made was the only indication she had even noticed my presence. She didn’t want to talk and quite frankly, neither did I, perfectly content with getting lost in our own books. 

It was around midday and the sun was just starting to peek through the heavy curtains of the library when I felt Rhys appear in the room. In his hands were trays of food which he presented to Feyre. A small thank you left her lips and I wanted to smack that smug look on Rhys face as he teased her. But then I saw his face get serious and I suddenly felt very much like I was intruding on a private moment. “Tell me how I can help you.” His voice was scratchy and I knew he was trying to hold back tears, to keep the conversation casual enough that she wouldn’t shut him out again. I truly did try to tune them out but these were the same things I had been wanting to say to her all week but couldn’t find the strength. 

“If you fall apart then the bitch wins. All of that is for nothing and she wins.” Rhys said plainly and Feyre flinched before going back to her book. I could tell that she was talking to him in her mind. My eyes grew wide when I saw that slight layer of frost cover the book cover. Rhys barely had time to dodge said book as it was thrown right at his head. It bounced harmlessly to the floor and I stifled a laugh. The laugh died in my throat when I saw the flicker of flames in her palms and I tried to reach my mind out to Rhys, he all but threw me out. 

Feyre and Rhys left later that day. I didn’t offer to come with, didn’t want to come with. Just like last time when Rhys returned to Velaris, he stalked to his office and hid out for the rest of the evening. I only got close enough to the door to leave a plate of food outside before retreating back to my side of the house. His emotions pouring through the door were enough to give me a headache, the way it felt like I was walking into a brick wall. I didn’t try to talk to him for the rest of the day. Instead choosing to pull my attention back to the map in my study. 

I had been neglecting it to focus on Feyre and Rhys but I knew it’s just because I wasn’t getting anywhere. No matter how many books I read, I couldn’t think of anything that would help us win this war. Not without all seven courts working together and I knew Hel would freeze over before that ever happened. 

So I read until my eyes became blurry and heavy. My head had gotten so heavy like the words were getting stuck and wouldn’t leave. When I felt my eyes starting to close and knocking on the door jostled me awake. I saw the shadows before I saw him, too tired to notice that they had time to take in my current state and report back to Az. 

“You should take a break.” He said as he went to pull up a chair at the table I was sitting at. 

“I can’t take a break when I haven’t found anything yet.” I whined at him. “I’m supposed to be good at this, I am good at this. Or at least I was.” I slumped in my chair and I saw that familiar look of concern flash through his warm amber eyes. He sat there, I could almost see the gears in his brain turning, his shadows starting to swirl around the floor like soothing waves. I stared at them and felt my mind calm slightly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, wings flapping behind him. 

We just sat there in silence for a few moments and then he stood up suddenly. My eyes tracked the movement, following his arm as he extended a hand to me. It was like my brain short circuited at the gesture. He had to clear his throat before I snapped out of it and I timidly placed my hand in his. He led me out of my office and I felt his shadows on my heels. “Where are we going?” I laughed at how ridiculous this must look, one of the fiercest Illyrian warriors towing someone behind him like an excited kid. 

“Just be quiet. You’ll know when we get there.” His own voice full of an almost giddy excitement. So I let him pull me along. All the way outside until it clicked. There was a little patch of grass beside the Sidra that I loved to sit by when the weather was just starting to turn warm. Our little group used to spend free days out on that field, just soaking in the warmth. He gave me a proud smirk when we finally reached that stretch of grass. “Now, you’re going to sit and just enjoy being out here.”

“Is that an order?” I teased and he didn’t miss a beat. 

“If that means you’ll actually do it, then yes.” I sat and looked out over the river. The lights and sounds of the city walk could just trickle in, becoming a lovely hum in the back of my mind. I patted the spot next to me and Azriel sat beside me. I curled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on top of them. Just looking at the city I loved so much. We didn’t talk, Azriel was always good for that. He knew when I needed the quiet. The sound of the small waves helped clear my head and after a while I felt my shoulders sink down, the tension lightening. It was still there of course but became more manageable as I could smell the water and Azriel’s pine and fresh air scent. It wrapped its way around me and held me like my favorite blanket. 

“Thank you.” I said, breaking the comfortable silence. We didn’t look at each other, still staring out at the city just ahead. 

“Of course. Anything for you,” He cleared his throat, “For one of my friends.” I bit down the string at that little word. I fought the urge to put some distance between us at the feeling that flooded me. The cruel reminder of just exactly how he saw me. So I just pulled my legs in tighter and ignored all the thoughts of him that began to take over. 

We didn’t head back to the house until sundown. The pair of us walked under the flickering faelights that lined the streets. It still blows my mind how much the city changed while I was gone. I told him that much. And he shrugged off the tiny complement. 

“Rhys and I will never be able to thank you enough for how much you all did while we were…gone.” My voice felt tight as I finished, “You kept our home safe when we couldn’t.” He turned to look at me and went to say something but stopped himself. His face looked slightly pained, in that concerned way he always managed. He shook his head slightly. 

“You did more than we ever could. You and Rhys gave us a chance to have something to protect in the first place.” In his words, I was pulled back to that night when it had all gone to shit. How Cassian and Azriel were out dealing with the camps and how I couldn’t convince Rhys not to go so I insisted that I come along. I had to beg him to let me come with him and he still wasn’t happy about it. We walked right into a trap and before most of his power had been ripped away from him he wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone who was under the mountain and let our friends know what was happening, how they couldn’t come after us without leaving Velaris unguarded. 

Azriel’s small nudge to my shoulder pulled me back to the present and his eyes asked the question before he needed to. 

“I’m okay.” But I felt how my arms had wrapped around myself but he didn’t say anything about it, letting me have my space. We reached the house again and I could hear Cassian and Mor’s voices floating down the hallway. The sound alone plastered a smile on my face. Azriel followed behind me as I rounded the corner and Cassian all but cheered when he saw me. “There you are princess, we went to pull you out of your study but it seems someone beat us to it.” He gave me a small wink and I laughed at the joke behind it. I shook my head as I sat down next to Mor who was already pouring me a glass of wine. 

Rhys spoke to me across the table, “I peaked in and saw the map, tomorrow if you’re up for it I want all of us to go over it.” I nodded and he smiled at me. And we all ate and joked and I left the love I felt for the people in the room washed over me like the waves in the Sidra. 

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

“So if it comes down to war. Who do we have?” Rhys turned to Cassian and myself. We were all sitting around the map I had been working on, face grim as I explained the various markings. 

“The Illyrians don’t have a choice. The court of nightmares should. We kept up pretty well with Dawn and Day. Winter…” His voice trailed off. I still remember Kallias’ face as the news broke of the attack on Winter. The thousands of babes dead by Amarantha’s hand. The pure loathing his face held as he looked at Rhys. 

“I can talk to them.” I had always liked Kallias. And from the little bit I’ve heard since our return home, he finally married Viviane after being friends since childhood. Viviane was sweet and her, Mor and I had been known to get ourselves in trouble when together. If she would listen, Winter would come around. 

“Autumn and Spring are lost causes.” Cassian sighed beside me, slumping down in his chair. 

“Tamlin is delusional enough to think it would keep him safe.” And keep Feyre safe. But I didn’t say that outloud. “Beron is…well Beron. Unless we think we can pursue one of the brothers to take him out of the equation, I think it’s better to not plan for them.” 

“Summer?” Rhys asked pointedly ignoring Cas’ words on the other seasonal courts. 

“Tarquin is new and young. He’ll side with the majority. But I think I could talk to him and at least see where his loyalties lie.” I had only talked to the new high lord a few times during our time under the mountain. He seemed nice enough, one of the few people who was even willing to talk to me at all. No fear of the role I had been forced into and hoped he would side with us. Hoped his newness wouldn’t scare him into the easy choice.” 

“I don’t like the idea of having two courts fighting against us.” Azriel finally spoke up. I had almost forgotten he was in the room but his shadow currently sitting at my feet should have been reminder enough. “Hybern has the armies he needs and if he has the cauldron….” 

“So what do you suggest?” My brother asked, head in his hands. 

“We talk to them. Let them know that we won’t win this if we’re not unified. Remind them that we fought a war once to avoid this very thing and some courts were on the wrong side of history then and would be now.” I spoke plainly, it was the only answer. If it had been anyone else the idea would have been shot down. But Rhys just let out a heavy breath and nodded. 

“We’ll wait until we’re sure. Some courts will refuse to believe there will be a war until it’s staring them in the face.” The tone in Rhys’ voice letting us know this meeting was over. We all stayed in the room, the same exhausted look sat on our faces. “Good work.” Rhys said to me as he studied the map again. “You got all of this from books?” I had been too young to remember most of the war, let alone fight in it. But at least someone had thought it smart to recount all of it in very exact detail, I just managed to translate to current day Prythian. Rhys was silently nodding to himself as he really studied the map. The others slowly filter out of the room, leaving Rhys and I alone studying the map. 

“And these?” He pointed to the orange marks I had drawn all over. 

“Trade agreement routes, the thicker the line, the more movement there is through that path. They would be the most vulnerable areas since people know them so well. They’re also normally the quickest way between courts.” I pointed out more of the lines and pins. I had so much marked off, down to what ways the rivers flowed and where their currents changed. Rhys just drank in all the information I threw at him, only nodding along to the explanations. I was about to start on another part of the map before I saw his face freeze. 

Rhys had completely stilled besides me. That all-too-familiar far-away look on his. When I raised my eyebrow at him, “What is it? Is it…” He didn’t wait for me to finish, instead he let me into his mind and I almost flinched at whatever feeling Feyre was sending him. The crushing agony and pure terror. It was a feeling I knew all too well. These weren't the few stray glimpses Feyre had sent him while they were separated. This was the very thing all of us were holding our breath for, hoping it never happened. 

“Rhys we can’t just ignore it this time.” I spoke, already leaving the table. His hand wrapped around my wrist, making me pause. 

“If you storm in there, Tamlin has every right to declare a war.” 

“And we’ll have every right to kill his sorry ass. Something that we could have done decades ago.” I spit back at my brother. 

“Please.” His voice shook with fear. Scared for Feyre and maybe for me. I put my hands up in surrender. I couldn’t argue against the tone in his voice. 

“So how do you want to do this then?” I asked him and we started planning. 

In less than 10 minutes Mor had winnowed right on the border of spring and summer. Rhys had insisted that she come along to help. Her status would help blanket us from any repercussions. Plus her powers would come in handy if any of the guards found us. So her and I snuck into that manor I had sworn I would never see again. Do it for Feyre. Be brave for her. I said to myself as my own terror rose to a fever pitch. 

I could see the darkness already pouring out of the house. My anger quickly turned into fear. What did he do to her? The voice in my head screamed. Rhys had already broken the wards and whatever was locking her inside the house. Mor knocked out the guards before they could spot us. When we finally entered the house my blood ran cold. Sitting in a ball of inky darkness was Feyre. Her screams pierced something deep inside of me. I looked around and locked eyes with Alis. Her eyes wide as she took in my face. 

“He locked her in the house. I tried to…Please just keep her safe.” Was all the older fae had said to me. 

My heart warmed at the concern in her voice. The same concern she had once shown me. I nodded and walked towards Feyre. Whatever darkness she was wielding seemed to only be for her and as I shook her shoulder, gently saying her name they retreated slightly. I looked over to Mor who only gave me a small nod. Taking her cue, I picked up the shaking female and was startled by how light she felt. Mor spoke up from beside me. “Your guards are going to have a hell of a headache when they wake up.” 

Alis nodded in understanding and I added. “Don’t tell him where we took her. Please.” And for a second I felt just as broken as the female in my arms. I knew she would tell him, and would have to tell him but a small part of me wished she wouldn’t. But that was unfair to expect of her. It reminded me too much of the same hope I had when I left. Face sunken in and heart broken as I begged her to not tell Tamlin I was leaving. No one was there to help me and I’ll be damned if Feyre ever felt that pain. I didn’t say another word as Mor winnowed us right in front of the border. It felt like I could finally breathe again as the scent shifted to ripe fruit and salt water that marked us as safe. Marked us in summer. Feyre shifted in my arms and mumbled something softly. 

Mor soothed a hand through her hair. “You’re free.” 

Rhys quickly scoped Feyre from my arms without so much as a word. He looked at Mor and I 

“We did everything by the book.” Rhys nodded before I felt the air whoosh around my ears and I knew we had made it home. Rhys deftly climbed the stairs to take Feyre to her room and I just stood staring at my brother back. I blocked out the memories that began to rise to the surface. The scar on my arm prickled and when my other hand raised to scratch at the angry white lines that trailed down my forearm, Mors hand wrapped against mine. Grounding me in the present. 

“She’s free.” She repeated to me. 

“Thank the mother.” I responded as I started to climb the stairs suddenly bone tired. 

Feyre didn’t emerge from her room that night or the next morning. More than once I found myself standing outside her door, hand held up to knock but some part of my brain told me not to. Rhys hasn't left her side the whole time she was asleep. Whatever magic she had used in the house had exhausted her and I felt my heart pang for her. How alone she must have felt, how scared she must have been to be locked in that house. I remember my simple panic the first time I went to the basement of the townhouse. How it transported me back to under the mountain, I couldn’t imagine how it felt to be locked away again.  

When I finally did see her, she seemed to have gotten a little color back. Enough so that she was able to argue with Rhys again. I didn’t linger this time to hear the fight, letting them duke it out in private. But as Rhys turned the corner, I knew something that happened. Something important. 

”We’re going home.” 

If someone had told me two months ago that Feyre would be standing in the living room of our home in Velaris I would have probably keeled over laughing. But here we were, Feyre’s eyes flickering from spot to spot in the house. I couldn’t get a read on her face but before I could even process that, I heard a pounding on the door. Cassian’s voice filtering through the wood, already complaining. Rhys shot me a look that said deal with them please. He tried to hide it but I could tell he was waiting for Feyre’s reaction to her surroundings. A hint of anything to gauge how she was feeling. He needed her to like this place like he needed to breathe. So I excused myself from the room and slipped out the front door. 

”Are you serious Cas?”

”I want to meet her. She’s right there, my brothers m-” I cut him off, blocking both him and Azriel from trying to peek into the house. They could easily push right past me but stayed a healthy distance. 

”Do not finish that sentence. Do you want all of Velaris to know?” I whispered screamed at him and he rolled his eyes.

”I promise you drama queen, no one’s up this early. I don’t want to be up this early.” 

After a few minutes of us bickering back and forth, Rhys opened the door and said to us, “Are you all just going to stand there?” 

Cassian all but trampled me trying to get in the house. I laughed when I saw his crestfallen face as he noticed Feyre was no longer in the room. “She was here right?” He spoke to the room. 

”Maybe she’s scared of your good looks Cas, can’t have her falling in love with the wrong Illyrian bastard now can we?” I shot Rhys a wink and he growled lightly. 

”She’ll meet you when she’s ready.” Was all he said before he rangled all of us into the dining room. 

Feyre slept for the rest of the morning. She came down the stairs dressed in Night Court clothes and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The way they seemed to compliment her well enough and I had to bite my tongue to prevent me from pointing that out. Rhys met her at the door and shot me a vulgar gesture at my sugary sweet, “Be safe kids.” That I called out from my spot on the couch. I sat on the couch until the sun started to set. I had just got to the good part and debated even going to the dinner at all but I was dying to see how Feyre would handle our crazy family. If she had any chance at surviving here, she needed to like them or they would drive her crazy. Although from Cassian’s earlier words that might be the case either way. So I groaned and pulled myself off the couch, pulling on the first thing that I saw and winnowed with Mor to the front steps of the house. 

Azriel and Cassian were waiting to fly us up. Cassian wrapped his arm around Mor’s waist and Azriel did the same to me. I hardly felt my feet leave the ground before he was already placing me down in front of the door. I had not had the heart to come here since I’ve been home. Too many memories for me to want to come alone and Mor grabbed my hand as she pulled me through the threshold. We had just settled in before I heard the faint trails of Rhys and Feyre voices outside the door. I couldn’t stop the two males from bounding to the door, they flung it open to reveal a very annoyed looking Rhys. I held my breath as she stood in the doorway, eyes searching for something and she landed on me. She squared her shoulders but Cassian was already speaking.

”I promise we won't bite.” 

Last I heard, Cassian, no one has taken you up on that offer.” And I laughed as Feyre’s face blanched. I didn’t miss the way the female's eyes raked over the Illyrians as they stepped into the light. I tried not the bristle as her eyes lingered on Azriel just a fraction longer than I would have liked. Rhys introduced the two and it was Feyres response to one of his questions that made me feel a frision of pride. 

”How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” She would fit right in and Cassian’s booming laugh told me that very same thing. Armen had appeared almost out of thin air as we all made our way to the table. 

Feyre was slowly filled in about how the three brothers had met. Her eyes flickered to me during the story. 

”Where do you fit into all of this, besides being his sister.” She quickly added. Everyone seemed to be waiting for me to answer. 

”I mean there's not much else to it besides that. He got stuck with them so I did too. I nearly knocked Cassian's teeth in the first time I met him and I’ve been stuck with them ever since.” I stuck my tongue out at Cassian who rolled his eyes. 

”You mean you broke your fist trying to, princess. I had to nurse you back to health and you were helpless but to fall for my charm.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes and I fought the urge to throw my bread across the table at him. If it wasn't for Feyre I would have. The rest of the stories and tales flowed out and, much to Feyre’s credit, she didn’t falter in the slightest. She interjected at the perfect moments, making jokes that had everyone roaring with laughter. Then the tables were turned onto her and Cassian was asking her about her life. After she had finished she turned to Rhys.

’I accept your offer- to work with you.” And I wanted to scream and cheer. I felt no such joy from Rhys as he started.

”Good because we start tomorrow. Hybern is starting this war and he’s going to bring back Jurian to help him.” I felt a shiver run down my back. Rhys had neglected to tell me that part. In an instant the lighthearted conversation was thrown to the side and Cassian launched into full general mode.

 I tried my best to keep up with this new bit of information, how it would throw a wrench into any attempts of a plan. I missed the conversation that followed, mind already trying to figure out the adjustments I would need to make to the map in my office. Armen managed to snap me out of my thinking. 

”The Bone Carver might indeed be willing to talk to her.” She pointed a finger at Feyre and I went to argue against the ancient female. Rhy had beaten me to it. 

”Your choice, always your choice, Feyre.” and I tried to keep the fear off my face as she answered. 

”How bad could it be.” Cassians’ answer had her face pale as a ghost and it was clear dinner was over at that moment. The others reduced to arguing over the semantics and who would be doing what in preparation for their journey to the prison. My eyes suddenly felt very heavy at the sounds of their voices. Azriel’s gentle hand on my shoulder was the sign that the arguing had stopped at all. I didn’t need to be asked a second time and as he flew me back down to the ground below Velaris, I wondered if all of us would make it through the war a second time.

Next Chapter: Here

Taglist: @durgenyx @tothestarsandwhateverend @quinzzelx

[sugaryplum]

the tale of sugar cookies

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader summary: about how your procrastination got you a first date and a night spent in hogwarts’ kitchen. warnings: language mistakes, lots of cuteness, i made some hogwarts–related stuff up AND I’M SO SORRY TO ALL THE BRITISH PEOPLE. the name “cookies” just fits better. notes: first piece of the autumn(ish) collection, prompt here being baking together. i’m happy with the premise of this fic, i think it’s super cute. i’m a major procrastinator, currently supposed to be studying for the exam i have in a few days so i very much resonate. and i could really eat a sugar cookie right now yum yum

your knee is bouncing. it’s stupid, really. consequences of some of your dumb choices catching up with you. you’re desperately in need of help, but now you try to focus on theo, who’s heading towards your library table.

he says “hi, y/n.” as he sits down next to you and you chuckle faintly. “i get a whole hi? you sound particularly excited to see me.” he rolls his eyes and smiles ever–so–slightly. “don’t acknowledge it or i’ll go back to just nodding.”

you two are in something. you don’t exactly know what it is and can’t pinpoint when it started, but it’s definitely something more than just study buddies, acquaintances or even friends. you’re a people person by nature, you’ve had so many friends over the years, but this, this is different. this is butterflies and hearts all around. this is overhearing his roommates talk about you, calling you “nott’s girl”. you can’t help but blush at even the thought of it.

today however, neither the boy sitting next to you, nor the essay you’re supposed to be finishing with him are the things on your mind.

“alright, you have to stop this.” after fifteen minutes of your mindless writing, theodore’s hand lands on your knee gently. the touch makes your heart go a bit faster. “you will bounce your knee into oblivion.”

“i’m not sure if oblivion takes in bouncing knees.”

he doesn’t acknowledge your poor attempt at a joke and just looks at you. it's the kind of expression that makes you want to tell him everything immediately. so you do.

“you’re gonna think it’s ridiculous.”

“most things you say are a bit ridiculous, didn’t stop you before.”

your problem is fairly simple. you’re supposed to have one hundred sugar cookies in your dorm by halloween. that’s in two days. so far, there are no sugar cookies in your dorm and you want to drown in your sea of procrastination.

theo’s brows furrow. “one hundred?”

“it’s a hufflepuff thing. i’m sure you’ve heard of it.” you sigh, when he looks clueless. “every halloween we give first–years the opportunity to go trick or treating around all the dorms of older students. so the older students such as myself need to have treats prepared for each kid. most of the people just buy some sweets from hogsmeade but i thought it would make an excellent idea to make them myself. i got all the ingredients and stuff but never got around to do it, because the amount is overwhelming. and now halloween is so soon and i have nothing.” you’re almost breathless when you finish your rant, ready to take his scolding. what came upon you when you decided to do this? you had a whole month to go to honeydukes and buy some candies instead.

he’s quiet for a couple of seconds, looking at you the way he always does. a hint of excitement appears in his eyes, as if he got an idea. “i could help you.”

“what?”

“you heard me. tonight you need to finish this essay.” he looks down at your parchment with only the first few sentences and random doodles all around them. “but tomorrow we can do this. bring the ingredients and we’ll meet up in the kitchen. i end practice six thirty, we could start at seven.”

“you think we can make one hundred in one go?”

“nothing i can’t do.”

“that’s not true. but i’ll go with it this time.” you smile. it means a lot to you. not even the act itself, but the fact that he, of all people offered to help you. theo isn’t exactly a person who expresses his feelings easily, he’s not like you. and he definitely is not a person you could imagine in the kitchen, baking cookies for first–years. you thank him and hope he doesn’t notice the red on your cheeks. as expected, he doesn’t answer with anything but his eyes. you go back to the homework, calmer and happier.

time passes and you start feeling sleepy. you tell theo you’re going and you pack up your bag. when you stand up to leave, you hear his voice again.

“so tomorrow? kitchen? seven?”

you smile.

“it’s a date.”

you’re meant to turn around, but once you realize what you said, you freeze and your expression changes. your eyes stare at him for an excruciatingly long second, petrified. but all he does is shrug his shoulders slightly.

“yeah.” not even looking at you. he reacts as if you sky is blue. you can’t help a smile forming on your lips that only turns more beaming when you turn around and he can’t see your face. it’s a date. damn.

being a hufflepuff has it’s perks. one of them is constant access to the kitchen, accessible through the back of the common room. there were so many times throughout the years when you skipped the normal hogwarts’ dinner to cook something homely. or countless moments stumbling there in the middle of the night to make hot chocolate. you thanked helga everytime when you, or your friends got to taste the goodness you prepared.

today you’re also thankful. it’s almost seven in the evening and you’re giggling, seeing as theo is struggling to put on an apron.

“here, i’ll help you.” you tie it and step back, looking proud of your work. “you look like a professional.”

“i am a professional.”

“have you ever actually baked anything?”

“...no. but isn’t it just a couple of–” he moves his wind a few times to demonstrate what he means and you chuckle. he has no idea what he signed up for. “this will be fun.”

you put your arms on the table. “we’re doing this without magic. it’s better like that. tastier.”

he’s not talking for a couple of seconds, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something. “you’re joking. it’s one hundred cookies. how is a normal, sane person supposed to bake it all in one night, muggle style?”

“that’s exactly what i need your help for.”

“this is a trick, you’re tricking me.”

“not a trick, just my undying charm that caused you to worry about me so much, that you offered me help and now we’re gonna spend the evening baking cookies. you might actually learn something from it, it’ll be good for you.”

“cruel woman.” he shakes his head, but comes up to you anyway, getting a pinch of sugar into his mouth. you give him a scolding look and take away the sugar bowl.

“i’m gonna show you how to make the dough. it’s simple and we need a lot of it, for six whole batches.” his eyes follow you around the kitchen, when you take out ingredients from the shelves. “we need to mix everything together. first, butter and sugar. then flour.” you start mixing things in a big bowl with a spatula, stealing a few glances at the boy in front of you. he’s smiling.

four batches of cookies later, fifth one in the oven, theo really gets into it. at first he seemed skeptical, but now you can see the care in his eyes, when he adds the flour to the bowl, making sure he doesn’t spill anything.

“look at you! doing so well, you might end up as a cookie maker after a–” before you get to finish the sentence, he gets some flour in his hand and throws it all on your face.” when you open your eyes, you see a small grin on his face. “you look like a ghost.”

you talke a big breath and exhale slowly. then you steal the flour from behind his body, ready to fight back. “you are not getting away with this!”

a sweet war starts between you two. each of you fire your shots. all you can do is laugh, there’s powdered sugar on your nose, cheeks and lips. you feel like a small child, so carefree and innocent.

laughter distracts you from the situation you’re in. theo is holding you by the wrists, preventing your hands, armed with a spatula of dough, from rubbing the mass into his face. your eyes open to meet his and in one moment you both turn quiet. you might be delusional, but this seems like perfect time for a kiss.

his lips crash into yours so suddenly, that you barely get the chance to register that it’s actually happening. when he backs away after a second, you pull him in once again, this time him much more confidently.

„you taste like sugar.” you whisper against his lips.

„i wonder why.” he whispers back and kisses you again, and again.

you like the softness on his cheeks when you touch them, and way his hands wrap around your waist. you stay like this for a moment, closer than ever before, until you’re brought back to reality by the oven alarm. sugar cookies. you pat his shoulder and run to get the baking tray.

when you turn back to him, he’s still leaning his lower back on the table, looking at you, smirking. you pretend like you’re not extremely flustered and point to the bowl he never finished mixing. „work, theo! this dough won’t mix itself!”

he quickly grabs the spatula again, saluting to her with it. „yes, chef!”

you giggle. „i don’t think it works like that in cookie shops.”

„yes, chef.” he murmurs quietly, glancing again, as if to see how you react.

you roll your eyes, smile and look away, feeling your cheeks getting hot. your face hurts from all the smiling, but with the smell of sugar cookies and theodore’s eyes on your back, it doesn’t seem like you’re going to stop any time soon.

[esggs]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#6 - Husbandly Duties

[noritoshi kamo wrangles with his family to get you into jujutsu tech school + gojo satoru keeps his word]

[tw : 1000+ words, noritoshi kamo x reader, child marriage, arranged marriage, misogyny, girlie gets access to schooling, malala would like this chapter]

#5 - Man and Wife #7 - Jealousy, Jealousy

Gojo Satoru stood on the doorstep of the Kamo Clan the next morning. “Am I too early? I stopped to pick up a present for the newlyweds!”

Within the next ten minutes, Noritoshi had been woken up, urgently dressed and washed, and sat in front of Gojo Satoru, with all the elders of the family in tow. Satoru’s sudden arrival had soured the mood of the whole family; everyone expected some upsetting news or the other. Satoru himself seemed to take no notice of this. “Is your wife bothering you already, Noritoshi-kun?” He beamed at the half-awake half-worried young heir. “She’s so bossy! As her benefactor, I can tell that she’s a handful!”. 

Benefactor, huh? Noritoshi was impressed, quite frankly. Somehow or the other, you had won the support of Gojo Satoru himself, and that too secretly. Since the conversation was turning to his wife, he had no choice but to speak. I’m in no mood for your nonsense. Spit it out, Gojo.

“My wife has been sweet, Gojo-sensei. How have you been?” He answered. “Would you like some tea?” Satoru understood what he meant-- “How important is this conversation?” 

“I believe we should all have some.” (“Important and involving the whole family. Sorry”)

Gojo had come here to vouch for your admission into Jujutsu High Tech School. Apparently, it was the wedding gift from the Gojo Clan to the newly bridged Zenin-Kamo one: Satoru himself would overlook the education of the young couple. On the surface, it seemed a rare opportunity to learn from the strongest sorcerer himself. But every Kamo family member sitting in the room understood the threat behind his words: The young bride is now under my protection. I’ll keep an eye out for her. Don’t cross me. 

The Kamos erupted with anger, all polite social manners thrown to the winds. Noritoshi’s father threw a tea-cup at Satoru (blocked by his Infinity) and an uncle called him a “flyhead meddling in an ox’s dung”. 

Satoru watched as Noritoshi sighed and started to calm people down. He requested the women to not trouble themselves with inelegant family matters anymore, and they silently left the room. Then he ordered the servants to clean up the spilled tea, get some fresh oolong out, and light some incense. Finally, he waited till his male relatives cooled off by themselves (took a few minutes) before finally speaking up: “My apologies, Father, Grandfather. But I would feel rather insulted as a man, albeit a young one, if matters of my wife were to be discussed with other men. Do I have your permission to speak to Gojo-sensei alone about this?”

“No, no– you’re too soft on–” 

“Let him, son.” Noritoshi’s grandfather placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “He’s a man now. He knows how to think. Show our Satoru-kun the gardens, Noritoshi.”

Amazing. Gojo really appreciated the boy now. He handles people so easily. Noritoshi bowed low to them and gracefully guided Satoru to walk with him in the gardens. Like you did, some months ago.

“My apologies, Gojo-sensei.”

“No, no, the tea was good though.”

“Ah, it’s from our own gardens. So about Zenin-san…”

“She wants to join Jujutsu High." Satoru replied. “You’ve no problems with it, I suppose.”

“Hmm” Noritoshi took a minute to fully consider it. It's fine, right? I don't see how this could hurt anyone. As long as she behaves herself, it should be fine. “None, I think. Besides, her cousin Mai studies with me too.”

Noritoshi had wanted to look Gojo fully in the eye and ask, why? What does she have over you that you are helping her so much? What secrets do you keep amongst you two? Why does she trust you so well?

Of course, Noritoshi didn’t say a word. He just nodded and signed the stack of paperwork for your school admission. He had full rights to do so. He was your guardian, after all. His hand stayed a bit before signing a paper declaring that ‘The liability of said sorcerer's death falls upon the undersigned.’ But he signed it anyway. 

His family was screamed at him later on for allowing you to leave for school. He saw you snickering at him from behind the curtains, watching him get yelled at for your sake. He scoffed. What a fucking pain in the ass kid. 

—--

“You know, you could have just told me.” Noritoshi and you are back in your bedroom again. You look up from the Jackie Chan movie playing on the TV as you laze on the sofa. 

Damn. Noritoshi is just getting out of the shower, towelling his hair dry roughly, clad only in his soft blue bathrobe. You can see drops of water dripping down his face to his broad chest. You quickly look away. Damn, Kamo. “Aghh, cover up, idiot! What the heck are you doing?” You grit out. “Shameless ass!”

He grumbles at that. “At least say thank you”. Ungrateful little bastard. You manage to piss him off like no one ever can. Except Todo, maybe. “If you had only told me about Gojo-sensei beforehand, everything would have gone by a lot smoother.”

You choose to pretend that you can’t hear anything, instead turning up the volume of the TV. You know exactly how to get under his skin. Actually, you weren’t too sure that Noritoshi would agree to your schooling as quickly as he did; you don’t actually know Noritoshi, do you? You did have a few cards up your sleeve to get him to acquiesce to your wishes (you had those cards on everybody, actually. It’s good armour for someone as defenceless as you.)

Noritoshi chooses to answer your silence with his own silence. You two were leaving for school less than a week now, even though you were going to the Tokyo school (Satoru Gojo’s personal request). Less than a week and he’d be rid of his annoying immature wife. 

He huffed at the thought, pulling a yukata onto him. You make it a distinct point NOT to look at him when he’s changing, no matter how red your face gets at the thought. One week and I’m out of here. He casts a look back at you. Oh, you’re blushing? How cute of you. His heart softened a little. Her, a sorcerer? Gods look after her. 

#7 - Jealousy, Jealousy

art from the amazing @null-cult, go check out their stuff, it's so cool. thanks for letting me use it!!

[chaotic-mystery]

WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Pairing: Frankie Morales x reader

Summary: You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

Content Warnings: MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

Authors Note: hello my babies I am finally dropping this. It’s been an idea I had for months and I almost scrapped it but then I thought, no! Post it anyway! So here we go. It’s heavily inspired by Tim McGraw by Taylor Swift but it’s not required to listen to it to read the story. (Although if you’re like me and love a good cry, i recommend listening) I’ll meet you at the end of this with tissues and candy, okay? 🩵 thank you @pr0ximamidnight for beta reading this for me and I’m sorry for making you sob. || wc: 1.3k|| beautiful divider by @/saradika-graphics 🩵

“Hi honey, I missed you. Hope you aren’t too mad I’m runnin’ late.”

You smile and sit next to Frankie on the ground right on top of the red picnic blanket, food spread out from corner to corner. The assortment of favorite sweets and dishes makes you smile harder, getting comfortable right next to him.

“Finally went out shopping today for the first time in a while. I hadn’t seen my friends in so long, I’m surprised they answered when I offered to go out. We took the backroads home and it reminded me of when your truck used to get stuck back in high school, those long ass nights we should’ve been home studying but you wanted to go for a drive. You’d take us out to the lake and dance with me. Remember that? It was fun before my dad caught us and chased us back to the truck.”

You giggle and rest against him, blinking a few times as a breeze of cold and crisp October air rushes by you. Licking your lips, you continue.

“I found a note from years ago when I was looking for those one pair of shoes you know I hate wearing, the ones I have to wear when-”

You cut yourself off, not wanting to bring up that day. Not yet.

Pulling the folded piece of lined paper out of your coat pocket, you sniffle from the chilly weather and begin to read aloud the note. “This was from the day you were shipping out for basic and god was I pissed at you. We woke up and realized summer was gone, we were adults.”

“Frankie, when you read this you’ll probably be on the way to Texas, and I’ll be in Georgia, right where you left me. I told your mama I’d write to you every chance I got, and I mean that. That also means when I’m mad at you for leaving. I hope when you’re lying awake in your cot at night, you look up and our song starts to play, that one Tim McGraw song. You remember what I was wearing, the perfume embedded in my skin, the way my hair tickled your nose when you’d hug me.

By no means is this a goodbye letter. I’m in it forever with you, Frankie. I want you to come back home safely so we can start the family we’ve always wanted. Why did you have to leave me? Why was this the best solution for us? We were making it, we were fine. We were good. I was happy with our little apartment and my shitty 9-5 job while you worked on cars. Promise me you’ll come home safe. I need you here with me.

I love you endlessly, you have no idea. You make it hard to be mad when I remember how you’d tell me my eyes put the stars to shame every time I looked at you. That’s still a lie to this day. I’m already counting down the days until you’re back with me and I thought it would somehow make it easier but it doesn’t. I’ll be waiting right here for you, wearing that little black dress you love so much.

We’ll start our family and get that house on the outskirts of town like you told me we would. I already have dog names picked out for the dog we’re gonna adopt too.

P.s. the ring doesn’t have to be too expensive.

Love you always.”

Taking a deep breath in, you wipe your tears on your corduroy brown pants, looking around at all the people walking by in the distance. Grabbing a green grape from the plate next to your leg, you chew it up and rest back against your hands, the soft blanket shielding you from the cold ground.

“I got a new job a few months ago, I forgot to tell you. I'm in HR now which is fun. I get to listen to people complain about who ate whose lunch, hire more clowns who hope to climb the social ladder, that kind of thing. It has its good and bad days. Honestly though, it makes me forget about all the shit I have going on in my head. I get to focus on everyone else but myself for a day. I know, I know, an office job?”

You sit up straight and cross your legs before continuing.

“I needed something to pay the bills and I couldn’t stay a waitress forever. The tips were good but I couldn’t afford our apartment on that alone. Robert still calls me from time to time asking if I want a Friday night shift. I didn’t think he’d remember how I used to love those. You’d come in after being with Santi and Ben all day and want beers while you stayed until we closed, always wanting to be near me with what little time we did have. Just seeing you sitting on that barstool watching college football, eating those disgusting cheese sticks was enough to make me keep going for the night.”

And it was.

Frankie being there when he was off duty meant a lot to you.

You kneel down in front of him and you can feel the tears pricking your eyes once more as your scarf blows to the right a little.

“I left a note on your mama’s porch the other day. I know she doesn’t live there anymore but I just, it was the first time I’d gone back to your street since, ya know. By now I’m sure you know what I wrote in it, but just in case you don't. I hope you still think about me when you think Tim McGraw. It’ll bring you back to that place of us out there by the lake with my head on your chest, dancing all night like two lovesick teenagers. I hope it makes you happy, Frankie. I hope you know it means everything to me, still. After all these years.”

You finally crack and break down, leaning your forehead on the picnic blanket, the tears soaking into the fabric immediately. Muffled and choked out sobs leap from your lips and you clutch your throat, trying to calm yourself down enough to breathe.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you, Frankie. You left me here with n-nothing.” You fiddle with your fingers and rub the spot on your ring finger where a ring should be sitting. Yet only a faint line from the ring Frankie won you out of a quarter machine was left. It didn’t feel right wearing it without him so you gave it back on that terrible day in September when the entire month seemed flooded out by tears. You tucked it right in his jacket pocket before you left.

That was the worst day of your life.

You sigh deeply and touch the cold granite headstone, the smallest picture of Frankie looking back at you.

“I love you so much. I’ll be back tomorrow to change your flowers. It’s my first winter without you here and I can’t stop thinking about how cold you must be, baby. I wish you were back in our apartment in my arms how you used to let me hold you.”

Laying down until your face was pressed against the ground, you sniffle again and whimper out as you think about him being cold.

“Frankie, I'm so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t get you out of that wooden box. I hope wherever you are in the universe, you’re safe and warm and can feel all the love I still have for you. There’s just too much left over and I’m not sure what to do with it, honey. What do I do with it? What do I do with all this love that was supposed to last us forever?”

You never did get the ring but you got an endless supply of memories from knowing him and loving him. Truly loving him.

You curl up into a little ball and hold yourself while you continue to cry, twiddling a leaf between your fingers. Eventually the whimpers turned into soft and broken hums of that one Tim McGraw song.

Hugs and kisses and tissues are complimentary 💚

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 15A: Dreams

Wilmington, North Carolina

Labor Day Weekend, 1988

I'm hung up on dreams I'll never see Help me baby, or this will surely be the end of me…

 - Dreams, The Allman Brothers Band (1969) [click here to listen]

“I’ll be upstairs in just a few minutes. Did you finish your reading?”

Ten-year-old William MacKenzie shook his head. “I was going to, but that’s when Daddy arrived with Jamie and Claire – I mean, Mr. and Mrs. Fraser. And then it was time for dinner, and then - ”

Gillian Duncan MacKenzie bent to kiss her son’s forehead. “All right then. Why don’t you get yourself all caught up?”

William’s eyes darted over to Claire, seated across from his mother at the kitchen table, sipping sweet tea.

“Jamie and I will be here all weekend,” she smiled. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk with him about music tomorrow.”

His face brightened. “OK! See you in the morning!”

Claire couldn’t help but smile as William darted out of the room, footsteps quickly thudding on the stairs.

Gillian turned to face her guest. “He’s so excited. It’s not every day that a bona fide rock star is here in sleepy Wilmington.”

“Thank you for asking him to not tell his friends at school. I’m used to the attention now – ”

Gillian raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Well – no. I don’t know if I ever will be. But one thing that won’t change is how much we value our privacy. So – thank you.”

“Of course, Claire. Privacy and discretion are what I do professionally – how could I not extend the same courtesy to you, when you’re a guest in my home?”

“Still. Thank you.”

A beat. Claire sipped the sweet tea Gillian had made – the same recipe she’d grown to love, those months at The Ridge. Gillian gently pulled Claire’s left hand across the table, studying her rings.

“You said this was his grandmother’s engagement ring?”

Claire nodded. “He inherited it when she died. His sister Jenny kept it for him, until he asked her for it. Called her the day he got home from The Ridge, and went to see her the next day. He gave it to me a few weeks later.”

“A man who knows what he wants.”

Claire smiled. “And I’m a woman who knows what she wants.”

Gillian returned the smile, then focused on the wide band next to the engagement ring.

“I love how solid and simple your ring is. Silver?”

“Platinum. His is the same. Wide enough for an inscription on the inside.”

“I do,” she had whispered. Smiling through the tears. Thinking he looked just a bit ridiculous in his suit. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Love” across his knuckle.

“I do,” he had whispered. Eyes burning, full of awe. Agape at the simple gray dress she had chosen, his mother’s pearls around her throat. Sliding the band inscribed “Forever My Heart” onto her finger.

“I am so pleased to…” Professor Quentin Lambert Beauchamp loudly blew his nose into a polka-dotted handkerchief. “Excuse me. I am so pleased to pronounce you husband and wife. Jamie, you may kiss your bride.”

He did. To the applause of the ten dear friends gathered in Joe and Gail Abernathy’s Boston backyard.

“That’s beautiful.” Gillian lay her own left hand on the table, adorned only by a thin gold ring. “Dougal never gave me an engagement ring, and he insisted I have the gold band for our marriage. His is silver. He had just sunk all of his money into building The Ridge, and we couldn’t even afford flowers at the reception.”

“That’s beautiful, too, Gillian. And I understand why you wouldn’t want to upgrade. Because what you have now, is that much more meaningful.”

“I was sitting here, when Joe and Gail staged the intervention.” Jamie looked over at his wife – his wife!! – gazing up into the arbor behind the house. “The vines were heavy with grapes. I remember thinking, how appropriate that I’m looking at what could be wine.”

He pulled her closer against his side, and kissed the top of her head. Careful of the tortoiseshell combs that Jenny had so lovingly placed in Claire’s hair as she got ready this afternoon.

“Ian confronted me in a hotel room in…Sacramento, I think. I had been so wasted on stage the night before, slurring through half the songs. Jenny had come to see Ian, and she was so scared for me. She had already done the research, made a few phone calls. I puked the whole flight across country to North Carolina.”

“It’s always the ones we love who we hurt the most,” she murmured.

“I’m never going to hurt you, Claire. You know that, right?”

She turned to face her husband – her husband!! – and smiled. Reassuring.

“I do. And you know I’m never going to hurt you, Jamie. Right?”

He nodded. Couldn’t help but kiss her.

“Ah!”

Dougal MacKenzie and Alec MacMahon turned the corner, and cheered. “Here you are! Come on – don’t let us have all the fun without you. Can’t miss your own wedding reception!”

Gillian nodded. “I don’t need it. I have the life we’ve built together, and our son, and a man who somehow thinks the sun rises and sets with me. I’ll never understand it.”

Claire swallowed.

Of course Gillian noticed.

“Don’t ever doubt how much he loves you, Claire. I’ve seen you two together – you’re so natural with each other. That’s never going to change.”

She clenched her hand into a fist. Centering herself.

“It’s…it’s just so…intense, with him,” she whispered.

“We don’t have to tonight, Jamie. We have forever, now.”

His hands shook as his thumb softly, softly traced down her neck, across the pearls, and settled into the cleft between her breasts.

“I want to, Claire. I want you so much I can scarcely breathe. I just…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gillian asked gently. “I can be your therapist, or I can be your friend. But I will listen.”

Claire took a deep, calming breath. “Being on tour – I see now how he developed the addictions. Every aspect of it is so stressful. He feels so much pressure to lead his band, to write music, to live up to the fans’ expectations. And he has to deal with the label and the tour manager and the production guys, and do media, and somehow find time to eat and shower and sleep on top of all of that.” Her thumb twisted her wedding ring. “He’d use the drugs to come up, and the alcohol to come down. And the women to just forget about everything for a while.”

“Are those groupies?”

Colum had organized a small gathering for the band and crew to celebrate the first show of the acoustic tour. No alcohol or drugs in the room – though Claire quickly learned that the rules by no means extended to hallways and bathrooms and storage rooms at the venue.

Jamie squeezed her hand, standing side by side in the corner, both of them holding a can of Tab.

“Yeah. I can ask them to leave, if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“No need.” She dropped his hand and quietly approached the four women giggling on the other side of the room.

“Ladies. I’m Claire Beauchamp. I’m with him.”

She turned slightly, looked at Jamie over her shoulder, and then turned back to her audience.

“So?” A girl wearing a strategically ripped Def Leppard t-shirt popped her gum. “That’s not what I heard about the last time he was here.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. “That was then. This is now. I will say this only one time. If you even think about flashing a boob, or smiling at him, or trying to get him alone? I will end you.”

The girls gaped.

“Tell all your friends here in Albuquerque, please. Are we clear?”

“And now, that you’re there with him?”

Claire smiled. “He’s eating and sleeping a lot better. Has a lot more energy. He so desperately wants to do everything right. And I’m not going to lie, Gillian – seeing him perform the songs he wrote for me at The Ridge, and then being there when he comes off stage, all keyed up from singing and playing the guitar…”

“It sounds like in many respects he’s replaced his additions with you.”

Claire looked up, meeting Gillian’ gaze. “Of course he has. The album and lead single will be called She’s My Addiction. Doesn’t get any more obvious than that.”

“And how do you feel about that, Claire?”

She lay her hands flat on the table. “I’ve never felt more…loved, and cherished, than when I’m with Jamie.”

She frowned and opened her eyes when he stopped brushing her hair, one morning in Minneapolis.

“What – ”

The pads of his fingers swept the left side of her neck, still a bit tender from his kisses after last night’s show. “I bruised you. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm. I’m not.”

She swallowed. “But it’s so, so hard sometimes. He loves me for who I am, but I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up. And he stresses over so much that he doesn’t have to. Gillian, he’s been having panic attacks all tour.”

“My God. Is he seeing anyone to help with that?”

Claire sighed. “You’re looking at her. Thank God I did that psych rotation when I was in med school. I’ve helped him recognize the signs, and he knows enough to tell me when it’s happening so that we can get away and I can help him through it. But I’m not a psychiatrist. I can’t be everything he needs. He has to do a lot of work to explore what’s triggering him, so that he can manage that. Because after we take the break at the end of the year, we’ll be on the road for most of ’89. The label has booked more than a hundred shows.”

“And you’ll be with him?”

“Of course. He’s the air I breathe. I know this sounds insane, but we want to try for a baby next year. That way he can be off the road, off touring, to be with me if the timing lines up.” She sighed. “So I’ve talked to him about bringing a therapist with us on tour. He needs to have that kind of support from someone other than me. Especially when we’re in Europe and he’s playing soccer stadiums and dealing with a next level of bullshit.”

“Do you want some recommendations? Between Dougal and I, we can definitely help you find someone.”

Claire smiled thinly. “That would be wonderful. It has to be someone we both trust. Who can deal with all the craziness.”

Gillian nodded. “Consider it our wedding gift to you. I – we – really want to help you. You know this, Claire – getting sober is hard, but staying sober is so, so much harder. It does and doesn’t get easier with time. Dougal would say the same thing.”

“Do you ever miss it?”

She settled her chin into his shoulder, nestled securely in his lap. Together they watched the cornfields of Iowa glide by, thousands of feet below.

“No. Not really. The pills helped me deaden the pain. And my life doesn’t have that kind of pain at all, now.”

The private plane had four clusters of four seats, two seats on each side facing each other with a table in between. Jamie and Claire always had a cluster to themselves. Ian, his bass tech, Jamie’s guitar tech Arch, and Angus’ drum tech always sat together. Colum kept to himself. Leaving Angus in the final cluster – which he shared with the two groupies he’d been surprisingly faithful to since Albuquerque. He hated flying, but the girls certainly made it easier for him – plying him with snacks, rubbing his back, squeezing him between them in the big seat.

Claire turned slightly, and inhaled at his temple. Kissed his earlobe as he shivered. “I know you miss it, Jamie. And it’s OK.”

His grip tightened on her hip. “You taste so much better,” he whispered. Eyes far away.

Claire wiped the corners of her eyes. “I just love him, Gillian. So fucking much.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so proud of him, for everything he’s done, and for the man he’s worked so hard to become. I’m not going to lie – sometimes it’s so damn hard to deal with everything. With all of his past shit, and how he still lets it mess with his head. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told him that none of it bothers me. Not the drugs, or the alcohol, or the destroyed hotel rooms, or what is probably hundreds of women. I can’t let any of that bother me, because that’s not the Jamie I know. But Gillian…”

Gillian reached across the table and took Claire’s hand.

“He makes everything so fucking hard sometimes. He starts to spiral, and he worries that I’ll have had enough and walk away. But then we just take a deep breath, and we look at each other, and all the bullshit is gone, and it’s just so easy again.”

“You need a day off!”

Jamie rubbed his hands over his face, exasperated. “I do have a day off tomorrow, Claire. You know as well as I do that there isn’t a show.”

She huffed, hands on her hips. “Not the point, Jamie. I saw the call sheet for tomorrow. You’re meeting with the label, and then with Colum to talk to the merch guy, and then the lighting team, and then you’re doing some local radio spots. That’s NOT a day off!”

He shrugged. “At least we can get dinner together and it won’t be shitty venue food.”

She pursed her lips, trying so hard not to scream. “Do you not remember the panic attack last night? You were sobbing in my arms, Jamie. It was really, really bad. And then you were so exhausted, but you wanted to be a hero and do the show anyway, and then you tripped over your fucking amp when you went on stage and could have broken your arm. Where would that leave us, hmm?”

He reached out to her – and she stepped back.

Not done with him yet. 

“You need rest, Jamie. Your body is going to shut down. And that won’t be good for anybody.”

“Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Beauchamp?”

A hint of a smile. Good.

“Yes. I’m your personal physician. I’m prescribing a day in bed, sleeping.”

He smirked. “OK. But only if you’re in it, too.”

She shrugged. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yes you are,” Gillian smiled. “You said it’s intense between you – there’s no way it couldn’t be. Set aside his being a musician, and being in just about the biggest band in the world right now. Think about how and when you met. What had happened to both of you beforehand. All the changes you’ve made in both of your lives, in a relatively short timeframe. It’s overwhelming. And being on the road with him this summer had to have just upped that intensity.”

“We’re together non-stop. Which has been great, because we have so much time. We have what nobody else has, and I treasure that, I really do. But it’s also exhausting sometimes.” Claire paused, considering. “Nobody else knows what I’m about to tell you, but it’s another factor. We…we didn’t…” She closed her eyes. “We waited until our wedding night.”

Gillian’s silence was a gift.

“We were both so scared. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I think we were worried that…that it wouldn’t be good, for some reason. And it was good, Gillian. So fucking good. We both cried.”

“You’re everything.” He kissed her nose and cheeks and forehead and mouth over and over and over again, his tears mixing with hers. “My heart is going to burst.”

She hugged him tighter, nails digging into the flames tattooed on his shoulders. “Love you,” she whispered, breathless. “Love you love you love you love you…”

“I don’t need to tell you this, Claire, but I will anyway. It’s been a really good decision to spend so much time together, to really get to know each other, before you were married. Both of you deliberately wanted your relationship to be different from anything you’d known or done before. And now that last barrier is gone between you. So everything has changed, am I right?”

Indianapolis. Married one week. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, standing side stage during the show. She couldn’t stop giggling when he found her after the encore, threw her over his shoulder, and ran to his dressing room. His breath hot against her lips, breathlessly pleading for her to stay quiet, as they loved each other on the sofa and the techs and roadies and catering people and production staff bustled by the locked door.

“It has, Gillian. But in many ways it hasn’t. It feels like yesterday, and it feels like forever.”

New Haven. Married two weeks. The morning after a powerhouse show at the Coliseum. A penthouse suite overlooking the water. She had slipped out of bed in the dark, opened the curtains wide. Watched him watch her as she returned to bed. Held his gaze as they loved each other, dawn breaking over their faces.

“I get that. You’ve introduced another layer to your relationship. Probably the most complex layer that there is.”

Providence. Married two weeks and two days. Holding each other in a bath, Jamie’s hand splayed across her belly, Claire’s nose buried in the curtain of his hair.

“So, be patient with yourself, Claire. Cut yourself a break.” Gillian reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “And just enjoy yourself! My God – what an incredible life you have.”

Claire’s smile was the widest Gillian had ever seen.

“Holy shit. I married a rock star.”

“I heard that!”

And then Jamie was there, smiling, and kissing Claire’s smile.

Dougal hung back in the doorway. Exchanging smiles with his own wife.

“Come on, rock star. You said you’d help me hook up the new CD player.”

Jamie pulled back. Rubbed his nose against Claire’s.

“Hey, Dougal?”

Dougal crossed his arms. “What?”

Jamie stood. Squeezed Claire’s hands. Kissed her wedding ring.

“Love is a much better high than any drug.”

Dougal rolled his eyes. “I’ll put that on the new pamphlets we’re printing up for The Ridge. But the stereo won’t install itself. Help out, and I’ll even let you play that new stuff you brought.”

[mychoombatheroomba]

I'll Be Missing You

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 44

Leon writes his letter to Sherry and you both continue to heal in different ways.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

He finished the letter just before lights out. You helped, even if you insisted that it hadn’t been much. 

It helps to have someone listen to it, Leon had insisted, reading you the words he’d written and rewritten until at last he was satisfied. You’d done your best to point out what you thought Reed and Hellman would want more vague explanations about, suggesting how to phrase some things. Otherwise, your supportive expression and quiet nods were enough. 

The letter, though . . . that would never be enough. It would never convey all that Leon wished to say, or all of his regrets. It would never right the wrongs that began that night in Raccoon City. 

It was a start, though. 

Sherry,

I will never be able to apologize enough for not writing back to you sooner. I’m sorry, I promise if I could have, I would have. 

I am okay. I can’t tell you everything, but just know that I’m okay, and I’m so glad to hear that you are too! I’m so glad that you’re feeling better! Told you that you would! You’re a regular Supergirl! I know it’s frustrating, not being able to go back to school. Just keep studying. It’ll be easier when they let you go back that way! I know I probably sound like a boring old fart, but it’s true! 

And hey, tell you what? I don’t want you missing out on all the fun. Go ahead and watch Star Wars without me! You can write back to me and tell me all about what you thought, if you want! In fact, that’s my mission for you! Watch as many movies as you can! Read as many books, and just have as much fun as you can! I want to hear all about it! 

I wish I could tell you what I’ve been doing these past few months or tell you about the people I’ve met. I wish I could have written to you sooner. I wish a lot of things.  Just know that I’m going to be trying to keep people safe, just like Claire did for you. And know that I didn’t forget you. Never could. I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you. Someday soon, I hope. Until then, please keep writing to me. I’ll write you back every time, I promise!

Don’t get into too much trouble, okay? 

But even if you do, I know you’re smart enough to get out of it. Just stay safe, okay? Talk to you more soon, hopefully! 

I miss you too.

- Leon

It wasn’t perfect, but you nodded your approval as he finished reading it aloud all the same. “I think that’s good.” 

“Not too much?” Leon asked, eyes betraying his worry. 

“I’m not exactly an expert on writing letters.” 

Leon could sympathize. “Neither am I. Obviously.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written home because . . . well, there was really no home to write to. He’d wondered if that was the same for you, but there had been enough painful memories resurrected that day. He wouldn’t ask. Maybe you’d tell him eventually, but the two of you had given the fallen their due deference. It was their day, after all, but now, Leon wanted to think of the living. 

He wanted to think of just how lucky the two of you were to have survived all that you did, because he’d come so close to never knowing you at all. He’d nearly lived in a world without you - something that in just a few months had become unthinkable to him. 

The thought of leaving you in a few weeks was painful enough in his heart. When this had all begun, he’d never entertained the possibility that he’d finish his training before you. You’d been here longer. Trained harder. You were the best and then . . . well, you both knew how easily disaster could befall you and change everything, didn’t you? He didn’t want to leave you behind. Not now. Not after all that the two of you had shared, and all that he wanted to share with you still. But he couldn’t heal the broken bones in your side any faster. All he could do was try and remind you that he was out there. That he would think of you every day. 

“I can write to you,” he offered. “When I . . .” he didn’t even want to say it, just as you didn’t want to think about it. Leon saw your expression fall, something in your eyes going a little distant. You were worried. He could see it. He would be worried too, he supposed. But maybe if he wrote to you . . . 

You didn’t say anything, at first, just listening to the ever-playing radio. 

“I mean, if you want-”

You didn’t give Leon’s doubt time to grow, and he was grateful for that. “I do.” Your answer was simple and straightforward, as it always was. 

And as always, it made Leon smile. “I will, then.” 

“You’d better.” There was something in your voice. Strained. Brittle. Ready to break. Your voice had sounded like that throughout your entire tale of what happened that night in Finland. Then, as now, you hadn’t been able to look Leon in the eye as you spoke. 

So, he reached for your hand, his brow furrowing as the skin to skin contact made your nostrils flare and your lips purse. Like you were resetting the mask you wore. If that was what you needed right now, even if it hurt to see, Leon understood. That still didn’t stop him from holding your hand, even if for just a few moments of silence. 

Moments that ended when you spoke, your voice soft. “And you’d better be careful, too,” you finally said, and the desperation of your words . . . it gave Leon pause because he’d never heard you like that before. 

He knew exactly why you were making that demand of him now, too. He knew it was because the memories of those you’d lost weighed on you still, because you cared for him. 

Because you didn’t want his to be a story you told and mourned in a year. 

“I will be,” he agreed, but when you finally turned to him, he knew that his words weren’t enough. 

“You have to be-”

Your name slipped from his lips, and he leaned in, his free hand finding your cheek. Making you look into his eyes fully so you would know the sincerity of his promise. “I will be.” Because he wouldn’t leave you alone. He would come back to you, he could feel it in his bones. Whatever other fears he held, he couldn’t let you be another unwalked path, another what if in his life. Another joy taken from him. You wouldn’t lose each other, he would make sure of it. 

You would be different. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he told you, and he could see you fight tooth and nail for even the tiniest of smiles to form. And when he still saw doubt in your eyes, he leaned in further. You always were someone who preferred action to words, anyway. 

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d like, but it, like his letter, was a start. A promise. 

You searched his eyes when you separated, and Leon felt such a beautiful pain in looking at you, because he knew now what you’d been through. He knew what you’d lost, he knew what you feared to lose. And he knew exactly why you asked your next question. 

“How can you believe that so easily?” 

Honestly, Leon didn’t know. He had expected only death and pain in his future when he’d been forced to join STRATCOM. He went to sleep every night fearing that he’d relive Raccoon City, and now he was a few weeks away from facing it down in his waking hours too. He had prepared himself for that. What he hadn’t prepared for was you. Your presence and the friendships he’d forged despite the odds . . . if he could find something good in this hell, then maybe not everything was lost. “Not saying it’s easy to believe,” he grinned, “but I do anyway.” 

You scoffed a laugh at that, shaking your head but not moving away. “I hope you’re right, then.” 

“So do I.” He had to be. 

Because the world owed you both that much. It owed you the chance to heal, even if only a little. It may not give you much of one, but . . . well, if it was a lifetime of dressing each other’s wounds, of putting each other back together . . . then maybe he could find it in him to face what was to come. 

Maybe he could have hope again. 

⧫⧫⧫

“You’re looking better.” 

You tried not to frown at the words, because, encouraging as they were, “better” wasn’t healed. It didn’t mean you were back in fighting shape. You still had several weeks before that was the case. Still, after the weeks of rest you’d already endured, it at least was starting to hurt less to breathe. That was something. Seeing the x-rays of your slowly healing ribs was something of a comfort too. To you, to Doc, and to Krauser, who stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a wall on the far side of the room. 

“Should be on track if you keep the rest up like you have been,” Doc told you, though you knew the report was for the Major as well. 

Krauser had been . . . well, he’d been quiet these last few weeks. Since Memorial Day, really. You’d seen him mostly at night when the two of you set up for the next morning’s lessons, but even then, there hadn’t been many words exchanged between the two of you. A few months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered you. Now, though . . . well, things were changing, weren’t they? 

“I’d still give it a while,” the Doc went on, “but you should be okay to move a bit more in two weeks, give or take.” Two weeks and then you could start training again fully. That meant four before Leon’s graduation . . . 

“Good,” Krauser cut in, his voice curt as it had been the few times he’d really spoken to you these last few days. “Then I want you with the new recruits in melee drills. No fighting, but you’re going to be giving notes. Watching their technique.” 

Your brows furrowed as you looked towards the Major, and you were hit with a feeling of deja vu. And a feeling of confusion, because when Krauser had pulled you in to spar with Leon’s old squad, he’d done it to get you more practice. Watching people fight wasn’t useless in developing skills, you knew, but so much of the extra help you’d given Leon had been because you could physically cross blades with him - him and the rest. If you couldn’t actually fight, though . . . “Not sure how much help I’ll be to you if I can’t demonstrate.” 

“Not me you’re going to be helping,” Krauser corrected, somehow sounding more displeased than he already had been recently. “Reed and the other instructors are taking over their combat drills for the time being.” 

And just like that, you were pissed off too. 

“What?” Your voice took on a tone of incredulity, your focus completely turning away from the Doc because the sheer notion of Krauser not being the main instructor-

The Major’s frown didn’t lessen, but he shook his head and clarified all the same. “Just for the new blood. Hellman and I have things to set up, so we needed to reallocate responsibilities.” He pursed his lips together, then his chest rose as he took a breath. “I need someone watching to make sure he’s not teaching them bullshit.” 

Because he didn’t trust Reed. 

You couldn’t blame Krauser for that. You sure as hell didn’t trust the agent either. You wouldn’t even agree to help that bastard in any way if it weren’t Krauser asking - if you didn’t know that he had his reasons. As it was, however quiet the Major had been with you these last few days, this set your mind at ease because if he didn’t trust Reed, this request proved that he did trust you. So, there was only one answer you could give. “I’ll do what I can.” 

Krauser nodded, his expression that had been so stormy as of late calming just a touch. A moment, that’s all it was, and then the Major pushed off from the wall, his expression resetting once more. “Good,” he said simply, and was about to show himself out when the door opened in front of him. 

Someone you didn’t know stepped in - a man about your age, his face drawn in an expression of pain and one hand wrapped around his wrist. One of the more recent recruits, you realized. His eyes widened though, as soon as he caught sight of Krauser standing in front of him. “Major! Sir! Sorry. I was told to have the Doc look at-” 

“Then what are you wasting time talking to me for?” Krauser deadpanned before stepping aside, making way for the young soldier to scurry past. 

He’d taken a bad fall from the obstacle course, he explained. It didn’t take long for the Doc to have a rudimentary diagnosis. “Probably a sprain,” he informed the soldier, then looked your way, finding you ready and waiting. “You know what to do?” 

“Ice it and wrap it,” you answered, already moving towards the door. 

Once there, Krauser stopped you with a raise of his pale brow. “Been playing medic, too?” He said it like he almost couldn’t believe it of you. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have, either. 

“You told me to make myself useful,” you shrugged, glad that you could pull off that small movement without being in agony, now. 

By the smile Krauser gave you, you could tell that he was glad too. “Well then get to it.” 

You surprised yourself by giving him a smile back. “Yes, sir.” 

He was gone by the time you returned, allowing you and the Doc to wrap the recruit’s wrist in peace. Your work was observed and approved of with a nod . . . and a surprise when evening fell. 

You’d never thought that half of a homemade sandwich would look so good. 

The Doc looked more than a little amused as he handed it to you, no doubt because of the surprise on your face. “Fair payment for fair work,” he told you. “But not a word of this to anyone. Can’t have people thinking I’m running a deli out of the med bay.” 

You nodded, taking the first homemade meal you’d had in . . . well, maybe in years, with an eagerness you hadn’t expected. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc.” 

You already had your fair share of secrets to keep, after all. What was one more? 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Took a little break from tumblr, but I'll be updating regularly again! Also, we're almost caught up to ao3 now! Anyone reading and enjoying this deserves a medal for putting up with how long this shit is XD But seriously, I so so appreciate anyone reading this story, I have loved writing it, I hope you all have loved reading it!

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - DD - May 12

Well, dear readers, we’re back with Jonathan in his toils! And, as you may expect, it’s not going well.

He starts off by telling us he needs to separate “bare facts” from his experiences, further confirming that he doesn’t like to write down what he hasn’t confirmed to be true yet. And he’s a lawyer, so that makes sense.

He tells us a series of questions Dracula asked of him that he wants to record, in case it’s useful later. I can’t say enough that Jonathan is truly using all of his wits here!

We also get an insight into Dracula’s plan: he wants more lawyers in different parts of England to direct goods he would like to ship. What exactly these goods are and more precisely, why, is a mystery (I have my theories, but I’ll keep them to myself to remain spoiler-free — and I don’t remember all of the details tbh).

What we do know is that he obviously wants a decentralized network working for him. He doesn’t want one person knowing his business, but rather, wants a few people knowing little pieces of it. However, he gets rid of this idea once Jonathan describes the solicitors as a “system of agency”. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me like that’s saying that all of the solicitors work together *on some level* or, at least, know each other and it would simply be easier to just have one guy do it. To me, this says that they regularly chat with one another if Dracula were to do this, they would likely figure something is up.

Whatever it means, it does seem to intimidate Dracula, since the next question he asks is “can I just do it myself” to which Jonathan says “of course!” All of those law books Dracula has been studying seem to come in handy, for he knows the law almost as well as a solicitor. I’m sure it’s not to do anything wrong or illegal….

I also love that even though Jonathan is trying to escape from this man, he still wants to give him honest legal advice, like he makes him clarify his question to lead him in the best way possible. If only Dracula was worthy of that treatment!

However, he’s snapped back to the reality of being a prisoner when Dracula asks him if he has written letters to anyone and basically demands him to stay for a month!!

“What could I do but bow acceptance? It was Mr. Hawkin’s interest; not mine, and I had to think of him, not myself; and besides, while Count Dracula was speaking, there was that in his eyes and in his bearing which made me remember that I was a prisoner, and that if I wished it I could have no choice. The Count saw his victory in my bow, and his mastery in the trouble of my face, for he began at once to use them, but in his own smooth, resistless way”

It’s a sober reminder, but one that bears repeating. Unfortunately, Jonathan has to stay at Castle Dracula. Even with all of the scary things that have happened to him so far, it’s not enough to warrant saying no. Since he went in his boss’s place, it’s even more imperative that he tends to this Count’s every need. If he doesn’t, he’s basically using his boss’s name in a negative way, which is so much worse. Dracula could use this to write a smear campaign against Jonathan AND Mr. Hawkins, and it would work.

There is also the matter that he’s being actively held captive, but I would wager Dracula knows exactly what’s at stake for Jonathan here, and it has nothing to do with locked doors. How would Jonathan be able to work his way up the ladder if he refused to stay and help a wealthy man — his first real client — for a month? Jonathan could tell anyone he wanted about thrown mirrors and locked doors, but he would likely just get told he made it up or be labeled as “indiscreet” because hey, the rich clients are eccentric and can do what they want, right? So what if you were almost attacked? It’s harrowing how relatable this kind of situation still is hundreds of years later. Dracula may be a vampire, but that’s not the only type of horror we get in this story.

After Jonathan agrees, Dracula then asks commands him to write three more letters but only about business stuff, please? Jonathan immediately knows he needs to write formally for Dracula’s sake and then write more in secret, especially to Mina in their shorthand code (hooray for the nerds!). He only uses *two* of the letters — I bet he stashed the third to use for Mina — and then observes Dracula writing a few of his own.

Jonathan does not miss his chance to read Dracula’s letters when he leaves and

“felt no compunction in doing so, for under the circumstances I felt that I should protect myself in every way I could.”

I love that he doesn’t feel any qualms about doing this. He shouldn’t. He’s being held hostage and now told he has to stay for another month. Most protagonists of this era would likely balk at the very idea of snooping through mail and I’m sure Jonathan would too most of the time, but this isn’t any other time. Jonathan knows he has to do this for his own safety.

He’s only able to discover names and addresses before Drac comes back. Whether these are important or not, I won’t say, but they are likely a part of Dracula’s larger plan. Jonathan is meticulous in putting everything back as it was before, showing his attention to detail.

We then get an ominous warning from Dracula to Jonathan not to sleep outside of his room at night or else…thanks for that positivity! /s

Jonathan refers to keeping the crucifix at his headboard. He says he’s not worried about sleeping in a Dracula-free zone, but…I do think he’s worried Dracula or maybe someone else is going to attack him in his sleep, because why would he keep it so close otherwise? Also, he says he sleeps better with less dreams, so the queer paprika dreams are back y’all, but this time, no paprika. :(

We also learn he seems to take comfort in looking at nature, as that is what he does to calm his nerves. Bad news: this is already taking a toll on his fear levels and he’s less than a week in.

Worse news: Jonathan sees Dracula use Lizard ModeTM for the first time! He recognizes him by his hands (quite observant of him) and notices he’s barefoot (ew Dracula, put the grippers away!!!).

That causes Jonathan to call him a “creature” for the first time and worry there really is no escape for him. He ends his entry “encompassed with terrors that [he] dare not think of…”

Again, I feel for him here. How would you react to seeing your host crawl like a lizard around his castle? Personally speaking, I would not take it well. This is the most hopeless we’ve heard him so far, and I’m sad to say he doesn’t mention Mina to bring him out of it. I’m so sorry, good friend Jonathan. Looks like your business trip is not going too well, after all.

[sweetshire]

HI FRIEND (even though this is text I am waving so fast at you)

I hope you’re doing well! A couple questions but also please take this as a chance to talk about what you think is cool. Ok two questions: who is your fav lotr character?? If that’s too hard, maybe top 5? I am such a Sam fan, I love that silly little guy. I also love pippin. And I also love merry. And I also love Frodo. Can you tell I like hobbits.

Ok question 2: do you have a favorite sherlock holmes story? And do you have a favorite adaptation?

Secret third question: do you have a hobby that is not your favorite but that you do enjoy doing? Like if it’s on your list, one that’s solidly in the middle?

Ok that’s it!!! Thank you for being in my notifs, it always fills me with joy to see you there hehe <3

*waves back* HEYYY FRIEND AM I GLAD TO SEE YOUUU!! i was thinking about just yesterday bc GUESS WHO FINISHED READING E.W’S encyclopaedia of faeries? me! i did! this was goood. sweet and wholesome and utterly charming <3 and exactly the kind of book i needed to read atp, given that the next few books on my tbr are mostly classics or hard-hitters. u were so right they ARE giving howl & sophie!! these delightful fuckers- they have me squealing & smiling all day 🥺🥰

1. u should know that this is too hard a question for me & when u ask me anything abt lotr i could ramble for centuries but i’ll refrain from listing every one of my beloved characters, which includes the minor ones too obvsly because i’m me :) anyhow! woo *quivers excitedly* here i go: first would be a tie between frodo and denethor- i physically cannot (& will not) choose. also lmao SUCH a contrast in both their, well, character - lol well done, me! (yet they’re soo similar too. yes i find parallels between their narratives AND everything else as well what of it) then in no particular order- eowyn, faramir, boromir (basically all the gondor men <3), legolas, & as u know i adore the hobbits. all four of them -um 5, including bilbo- but MERRY!! i hate to see him brushed aside & unappreciated. justice for merry, and frodo too!! what selfless, sacrificing, lovely dear hobbits *cries* OH OH AND I ADORE SAMWISE TOO i’d be a fool not to. there’s not a person who’s capable of not loving him. no doubt i’ll be cursing myself later for forgetting other dear ones…

2. charles augustus!! god i’m obsessed w the milverton case. what doesn’t it have?? a master blackmailer. a lady killer (she slays -literally ajdksf). hand-holding. h&w being not at all hesitant abt committing a crime - a master detective who’s always used to solving one!! delicious.. it’s the story™ which perfectly captures the true essence of holmes’ character imho. and ‘a study of scarlet’ ofc. irene adler (nee norton) queen i love u. big shoutout to ‘the copper beaches’ also. i like all the stories with the ladies

3. hmm i do! fav one is - u guessed it - reading. to answer ur question: i looove doing henna!! every summer without practice i’d practice it on any hand i could find. i’m an amateur but still i like it. i haven’t been able to do it this summer :( on account of. me & my whole family has been sick/unwell in some way since the past month & a half or so. but i’m planning on applying mehendi or do a painting soon!! (i also liked to collect coins/stamps/buttons or some such as a child - i habit i’m always in danger of relapsing into but shh)

[clangenrising]

Month 6 - Greenleaf

“We’re running low on borage and sage,” grumbled Sagetooth, looking at the herb stores. “The best harvesting spots are on opposite sides of the territory, so we’ll have to get one today and the other tomorrow.” 

Oddstripe, sitting nearby, piped up brightly, “Oh, that’s alright! Why don’t we split up instead? I’ll get one and you can get the other.”

She shifted to find a more comfortable position that still allowed Barleykit, who had taken to sitting with her during her studying time, to cling meekly to her foreleg. Sagetooth narrowed her eyes with a frown - not at Barleykit’s presence, she’d largely taken to ignoring the kit, but at Oddstripe’s claim. Oddstripe had grown used to her teacher’s lack of trust when it came to competence. Every skill was checked and rechecked before she was allowed to perform it on her own, every piece of knowledge quizzed constantly to keep her sharp. 

“Are you sure you remember where the patches are?” Sagetooth asked.

“Oh, yes,” purred Oddstripe, eager for the chance to handle her new duties without supervision. “For the sage and borage at least!” 

Sagetooth didn’t seem convinced, sitting back on her haunches to look Oddstripe up and down. “And you remember what I taught you about preserving the plants for later?” 

“Mhm! I’ll make sure to leave plenty for next time. Seriously, Sagetooth, I’m ready! You can trust me.” She grinned with what she hoped was her most trustworthy smile. Barleykit squeezed her leg tightly. 

After a moment of humming dubiously, the noise in Sagetooth’s throat turned into the words, “Alright. Take Branchbark with you, he’s a good assistant gatherer.” 

“Yes!” Oddstripe cried, startling Barleykit who squeaked. She winced and curled her tail around the kit as she added, “Thank you, Sagetooth, you won’t regret this.” 

“Mm,” the older cat heaved herself to her feet. “I’ll get the borage, you collect the sage.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Oddstripe bobbed her head excitedly as Sagetooth passed, then turned to her daughter and said gently, “Okay, sweetie, time to let go. Mama has work to do.” She tried to smile, but her discomfort with parenting clearly shone through, she could tell. She just hoped Barleykit didn’t notice. 

The little kit looked up at her, still clinging to her leg, and mumbled into her fur, “I wanna go with you.” 

“I know,” sighed Oddstripe, “but I have to leave the camp and it's not safe for kittens out there. Besides, I bet the boys would get lonely without you.” 

“No they won’t,” Barleykit looked down. “They don’t like me.” 

“That’s not true!” Oddstripe cooed, heart breaking for her kit, “They love you!” 

“No they don’t, they think I’m boring,” pouted Barleykit. 

“Oh, they just like to play rowdy games,” said Oddstripe, giving Barleykit a few good licks around the ears. “But you know what? I bet Ospreymask knows some games you can all play. Doesn’t that sound fun?” Barleykit shrugged, unable to hold Oddstripe’s gaze. 

“Let’s go see, yeah?” she continued, standing and disentangling her foreleg from Barleykit’s grasp. Barleykit nodded shyly and Oddstripe purred in response. “Yeah, let’s go see.” She led Barleykit out into the sunshine, squinting her sensitive eyes against the light, and looked around to try and find Ospreymask, hoping dearly that she didn’t have to disappoint her daughter. Poking her head into the warriors’ den, she sighed in relief at the sight of her favorite kitsitter curled up next to Branchbark, their heads laid next to each other as they dozed. Oddstripe almost felt bad interrupting them but knew that she had to.

“Excuse me,” she said gently, causing Branchbark’s ear to twitch and his eyes to open, “I need to go herb gathering and I was hoping Ospreymask might be able to watch the kits for a little while.” Branchbark grunted sleepily and blew air in Ospreymask’s face to wake her. She flinched and shook her whiskers, glaring at him a bit. 

“What was that for?” she huffed but when he gestured to Oddstripe with his nose her gaze softened. “Oh! Hey, did you need me to watch the kits?” 

“Yeah,” Oddstripe winced in embarrassment. “If it’s not too much trouble.” 

Ospreymask rolled to her feet and smiled widely, “Not at all!” She noticed Barleykit, hiding under Oddstripe’s belly, and leaned down to speak to her directly. “Hey, sweet thing, how’re you doin?” 

Barleykit looked at her with big wide eyes and mumbled. “I’m okay.” 

“I’m glad to hear it!” Ospreymask purred, “Let’s go see what your brothers are doing, yeah?” 

Barleykit didn’t respond and Oddstripe felt the need to add, “She’s worried they’ll want to play rowdy games, I was thinking you might have something more her speed.” 

“Oh, for sure!” grinned Ospreymask, “I’ve got some great games. Have you ever played StarClan Says?” Barleykit shook her head mutely and Ospreymask said, “Oh, I bet you’ll be so good at it! Let’s go find the boys and I’ll teach you how to play.” Barleykit gave Oddstripe one more look, searching for some sort of encouragement. Oddstripe nodded and pushed her forward gently with her back paw. Carefully, Barleykit slipped over to follow closely beside Ospreymask as they headed out.

Oddstripe glanced over at Branchbark, who was stretching with a yawn, and said, “I’m so sorry to bother you some more, but Sagetooth said I should take you with me to gather the herbs. Would that be alright?” 

Branchbark nodded and stood. “Sure thing, I wouldn’t mind getting out of camp for a while. What are we gathering?” 

“Sage,” said Oddstripe, turning to pad with him out of the camp. 

“Sounds good,” purred the warrior. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting your nap,” Oddstripe said again, tail swishing. She hated imposing on him like that. Despite the guilt she was feeling, Branchbark smiled and shrugged as they walked. 

“That’s alright,” he said, “I’m always happy to help the healers uh…” he paused, searching for an alliterative word, “hunt for herbs.” He accentuated the h sound on herbs and Oddstripe laughed. 

“Well, I appreciate it,” she purred, “and I appreciate Ospreymask’s help with the kits. I have no idea how I would manage being a healer and raising them at the same time without her.” 

“I guess that’s why healers aren’t supposed to have kits,” Branchbark nodded. Oddstripe felt another pang of guilt. Sagetooth had assured her that she wasn’t in trouble, that she hadn’t broken any rules because she was pregnant before she swore to be a healer, but she still felt bad. To her it just felt like another reason she wasn’t a proper Clan cat. 

“Y-yeah, I suppose so,” she tried to laugh it off but Branchbark winced.

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I know what you meant.” 

“Alright,” he frowned sympathetically. “I’m sure it’ll get easier once the kits are apprentices. Then they’ll have their mentors to take care of them too.” 

“Yeah,” Oddstripe nodded. “That does sound nice. Sometimes I wish I were their father instead so I could still raise them without so much of the responsibility.” She blushed, tail starting to swish idly. 

“Yeah?” asked Branchbark, tilting his head. “I mean you could be if you wanted.” 

Oddstripe laughed, then realized he wasn’t joking. “Oh, I’m sorry, what?” 

“You could just be their dad,” he said, as if it were that simple. 

“But… I’m not,” she frowned. “She-cats are mothers not fathers.” 

Branchbark shrugged again. “I guess, but you don’t have to be a she-cat, you know.” 

Oddstripe stopped in place, tilting her head in confusion. “Huh? I- I’m sorry, I feel like I’m missing something.” Sure, she thought, it would be wonderful if she could just change like that, but it wasn’t possible. Although… Perhaps StarClan had powerful magic that could grant wishes or something. That was an exciting thought. 

What Branchbark said was a lot less grand. “You can just decide you’re a tom. Cats do it all the time.”

“Really?” she asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he smiled, straightening up. “She-cats decide they’re toms, toms decide they’re she-cats. Some cats even decide they feel somewhere in between.” 

Oddstripe couldn’t wrap her head around the concept. “And then…? How do they become a tom once they decide?” 

“They just are,” he said warmly. “If you say you’re a tom, cats will believe you. There you go.” He shrugged again, and Oddstripe was again baffled by how simple it seemed. 

“So it's not magic?” she said, ears wilting. 

“No, it's just…” he hesitated before suddenly grinning as he caught a metaphor in his teeth, “it’s like a ceremony. There’s nothing that changes about a cat when they become a warrior except for the fact that everyone agrees they are one. It’s words. It’s courtesy. Does that make sense?” 

Oddstripe hummed and licked her whiskers. “I suppose.” She wasn’t sure she fully understood but it was an intriguing idea. 

“It’s alright, I know I’m not the best explainer,” laughed Branchbark. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” smiled Oddstripe, propelling herself forward again. “We should probably hurry though. I’m sure Sagetooth will be upset if we spend all day talking instead of harvesting sage.” 

“You’re probably right,” the warrior laughed. “Come on, I’ll race you.” He dropped into a crouch and waggled his hips tauntingly. “Oh!” Oddstripe brightened. Sagetooth probably wouldn’t approve, but Branchbark’s energy was infectious. “Okay, ready, set, go!” She bunched her legs beneath her and waggled her hips as she spoke. On the final word, they both shot forward, sprinting through the grass in a heart pounding bit of horseplay that Oddstripe couldn’t help but lose herself in. Something about Branchbark made everything so simple. Simple and exciting. As they ran, Oddstripe felt like the whole world was stretched out in front of her paws. His paws? The thought was fleeting and Oddstripe let herself forget it in favor of focusing on not letting Branchbark completely embarrass her in the race.

[witchersmistress]

The Damaged and Rage

hello my darlings!! here is another portion of the blood empire for you!! Have a safe and happy fourth of July!!

Trigger Warnings: Sex, anger, drugs, no usage, blood and violence

Word Count: 5.4K

As perusual my dears you do not have permission to copy, translate or use part of my work. if you do ill find you and haunt you for the rest of your days.

August’s pov

“You doing okay?” King asks quietly, studying me with way too fucking much intensity. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” I say, switching lanes. “Not like I’m stuck in a literal pit of hell. Speaking of, why exactly are you visiting Georgia  in July?” “I’m not visiting Georgia,” he says. “I’m visiting you.” “No one asked you to come,” I mutter. “You don’t have to ask,” he says. “I’m your brother.” “Lucky me.” He sighs. “We’re still family, August. Eliza, too. She can’t travel in her third trimester, or she’d be here, too. We can’t bring the baby on the plane for a few months, and I don’t want to be away from them any more than I have to once the baby comes. I didn’t want to wait until Christmas to see you, and you didn’t come to New York this summer, so here I am. Whether you like it or not, I’m still a Walker.” “How the twins doing?” I’d rather talk about them than myself. When they wanted to spend the summer in New York with Ma, it was a blow, but once they were gone, it’s been a relief. They needed to be out of harm’s way, and that means out of my way. They need distance from the guilt, or from the crime, if they don’t feel remorse. Getting them away from any suspicions that might arise in town was the best way to protect them, even if that meant I couldn’t watch over them. So I told them to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. We all needed time apart, anyway. 

A summer to forget, to put it all behind us, so it’s just another shadow lurking in our dark past. Or I hope that’s what they’re doing, that they’re not revisiting the place in their minds like I visit the place north of town, drawn back by some invisible cord tying me to the swamp. I found a dirt road that leads in behind it, so I don’t have to park on the side of the highway. No one ever sees me out there, and if they did, they’re probably backwoods rednecks who wouldn’t think twice about me tromping into the swamp in rubber coveralls that just about bake my balls after ten minutes. The twins aren’t around to ask questions, to demand why I’m going there. They’re not around to talk sense into me and tell me not to go. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. No one’s going to find her now. And if they do, there’s nothing linking us to her. We burned her clothes, and I burned all my notebooks. I don’t write anymore. I don’t want to know what fucked up shit would come out. I still go to the Slaughter Pen every Saturday night, but I don’t go to Hockington. I’m a legitimate part of the Walker empire now, with shares in my name and a spot on the board of directors. King seems happy to fill the drive from the airport with tales of the twins’ exploits, so I let him talk. They’re off partying on our old stomping grounds and getting high on this Alice shit, and I’m here with Dad, learning the business I’ll someday inherit by day. By night, I wander the streets or haunt the swamps like some fucking forlorn specter of revenge. It’s done. I killed her. So why can’t I forget her?

I’ve been by her house a couple times, but I don’t want anyone getting suspicious, so I stopped after the second time. I’ve also asked about her casually when the blue-haired girl who lives next to her was outside. I even tracked down Maverick, the piece of shit she used to fuck before me. She’s not anywhere. “You should come back with me,” King says. “It might do you good to get away, too.” My back stiffens, and I glance at him, trying to figure out what he means, what he knows. The twins swore they wouldn’t tell him what we did, but they trust him enough that they probably spilled it. Whatever. I’ll deal with it. It wasn’t doing them any favors to be around me right now. I’d die before I admitted it to anyone, but everything’s been shit since Harper. My insides are raw, jagged edges. From the start, I only meant to destroy her life, not take it. But after what she did, what choice did I have? I did what anyone in my shoes would have done, what everyone expected of me. She fucking deserved to die. She didn’t just sell my darkest secrets and deepest shames to my enemy. She sold our relationship to him one dirty detail at a time. It was all fake. And she didn’t just play me. She didn’t just make me fall for her. She made me believe that someone could do the same in return. That’s the lie I can never forgive. And it’s not that I care if she’s fucking dead. It’s the fact that she vanished like that, without a trace, just like Crystal… “Just stay the fuck out of my business, okay?” I say, weaving around traffic and pressing my foot harder on the gas pedal, ready to get home and out of this trap. My brother sighs. “You could have come back to New York. Then he shakes his head. “I’m doing what I have to do so that you don't get involved like I did.” “Because if you didn’t work for Al Valenti, I’d have to,” I say flatly. I know it’s the truth, even if no one else has the cajones to come right out and say it. King could have gotten out of working for our great-uncle. Yeah, our parents promised him their first son, but Al���s a reasonable guy. He’d have taken me, the best man for the job, if everyone had told him King wasn’t the right fit. It wasn’t our parents or Al Valenti who insisted on keeping the contract. It was King. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “You have a choice, August. That’s all I’m saying.” “And I made my choice,” I say. “You think you’re the only one who can make sacrifices for our family? The twins don’t graduate for another year.” I’m not leaving them with Dad. I know what he’ll use them for. If it’s the only thing I ever protect them from, at least it’s more than nothing.

“Our brothers told me about Harper,” King says quietly. “Did you tell Dad?” So, there it is. I knew they couldn’t keep their fucking mouths shut. But better to get it all out in New York than to let it slip in this gossipy little town. “No, I didn’t fucking tell Dad,” I snap. “She wasn’t his mark.” “She’s a Darling,” he says. “He’d want to know.” “What, you think he’s doing business with some trailer park junkie? She’s not one of the Darlings he’s concerned with.” “And the ones he is concerned with?” he asks. “You’re telling him about them?” “There’s nothing to tell,” I say, gritting my teeth in irritation at the shit I’ve had to put up with for the past year. Now that I’m working with Dad, I’m starting to understand why it’s necessary. But Preston doesn’t make it easy to leave him alone when he’s constantly fucking with us, poking us, trying to get a reaction. It pisses me the fuck off that there are Darlings walking around this town with impunity. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” King says. He thinks the Darlings paid for Crystal’s death already, and maybe he’s right. But he’s not her twin, and she’s not the only one the Darlings killed that winter. “Until we get the casino running, the Delacroixs are untouchable,” I say. “After that… All bets are off.” Once the twins graduate and I get rid of the Darlings, I’ll be on the first flight out of Georgia. The place makes my skin crawl. There are too many ghosts here, too many reasons to look over my shoulder. The girls who die in this town don’t get funerals, don’t leave bodies. They simply vanish, as if the town itself swallows them alive. The boys don’t get funerals, either, but they don’t disappear. The boys leave bodies—with nothing left inside them. Our ghosts haunt Georgia, too.

Harper’s POV

* A few weeks later*

Every week is the same. I go through the motions, but I’m frozen inside, as if it’s not really me there at all. There’s a Harper-sized doll in my place, someone I used to be but am no longer. The world has forgotten my existence. Only the Phantom remembers. I wait for him, for the clean smell of his house, the polished hardwood, the curl of his hard body around mine, the detachment I feel when he’s inside me that’s the closest thing to freedom I can imagine. When I’m not there, I’m a ghost walking the street at night, waiting for him to come back. He always does. Two days a week, he takes me home, feeds me. He fills half his closet with new clothes for me, shoes, jewelry, an expensive purse to carry my phone and keys and wallet. Everything comes to his house in boxes or bags delivered to the door, so he doesn’t have to leave the house except to get me and take me home. He checks the ring he put through my bellybutton to make sure it’s healed, puts dark-colored contact lenses in my eyes, touching my eyeballs like they are his own. I think maybe he’ll pluck out my eye and replace his blind one. But I don’t move, don’t try to stop him when he reaches between my lids and sets the thin lens over mine. “Good girl,” he says, stroking my cheek. “Beautiful.” He opens the closet door and sets me before the mirror. He tells me I’m perfect now, that I’m ready. I stare at the stranger in the mirror with dark eyes and dark lips and brown-black hair, and I think she looks ready, so he must be right. I don’t ask him what I’m ready for. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

A few weeks later, I notice the dark green field outside the Phantom’s window turning hay colored as the grasses droop in the late summer heat. Daisies and Black-Eyed Susans and wild asters dot the grass now. The Phantom stands there, looking out with his hands clasped behind his back, like he’s looking over an empire and not an overgrown field of weeds. “Have the Walkers contacted you?” he asks. I have the same phone number, but no one ever contacts me. Why would they? I haven’t contacted them, either. Everyone texted on the OnlyWords app, and I didn’t download it on my new phone. I didn’t have friends, anyway. Only the Walker boys and their friends got close, and they left me to die. They washed their hands of me, and I have no need to change that. I give my head a single shake, then realize he won’t see it. “No.” He rubs his jaw. I can hear the rasp of stubble. “It’s not enough,” he mutters. At dinner, he gives me a little black dress and tells me to put it on and do my hair. The dress is low-cut but not too revealing, and it hugs my curves and falls around me like it must have cost thousands of dollars. I roll on the stockings and garters he left with it. I put in the diamond teardrop earrings he left sitting on the dresser. I put my hair up the way he instructed and dab on some of the makeup he left sitting there for me. The lipstick is too dark, but I smear it over my lips anyway. I’m no longer startled when I see a stranger staring back at me from behind the closet door. Does it matter who she is? I know she’s a good girl. The Phantom walks behind me and puts a necklace around my neck. I can feel it resting cold against my chest, and it makes me shiver. I touch the charm, a diamond ballerina. He runs his knuckles up the back of my neck, skims his fingertips along my bare shoulders. “You look like…” He bows his head, so I can only see his golden hair, not even his eyes or mouth to give away what he’s thinking. I’ve never wondered what he’s thinking before. It never mattered. After dinner, he orders me to the bed without the usual shower. He doesn’t undress me, just commands me to lie on my back while he pushes up my dress. Then he picks up his phone, angling it so it gets my whole body. “No faces,” I cry, my voice echoing in the high-end apartment. I throw my hands over my face, surprised I can still react that passionately to anything. He’s shot dozens of homemade porn clips of his dick going into me, but he promised me no one would know it was me. Usually he fucks me from behind, anyway. I feel exposed on my back, vulnerable and scared in a way I haven’t felt with him before. Suddenly, I’m shaking all over. “Keep your hands over your face,” he says, laying a reassuring hand on my thigh. “No one will know it’s you.” He plays with my underwear, rubbing his cock against the outside of them, pulling them between my lips, then down my thighs. I pull a pillow over my face. He tugs it a little higher, setting my necklace straight before going back to work. I try not to feel what he’s doing, rubbing his cock between my lips, getting me wet. Finally, he pushes inside me. He lifts my leg and swings it around so I’m lying on my side, so he’s filming my hip with the tattoos. Someone could definitely recognize that. Above my hip, there’s a D branded into my skin. What if my attackers see it and come back for me? “Stop,” I gasp. “I’m almost done,” he says, moving my leg back where it was, so I’m on my back. He cums quickly, shooting once over my belly before pushing back inside me to finish. He doesn’t lower his phone until he’s gotten the whole messy scene. “Good girl,” he says. “You were perfect.” Then he steps into the bathroom, and I hear the shower running.

I get up, my limbs shaking, my pulse racing. Something’s happening to me. Something awakening, some horrible monster that’s rising like a tidal wave inside me, like Godzilla emerging from the ocean. I can’t breathe. I want to race up the ladder onto the roof, to suck in the night and shriek into the sky. I want to sail over the edge, arms and legs wide, and soar to my death below. Some impulse in me rebels at the expensive silk constricting my waist, the heavy pads of the bra. Suddenly, I’m revolted by the body I’m in, by what I’ve allowed to happen to it. I yank off the dress, tearing at the strangling fabric, kick off the heels he put me in, rip off the garters and stockings. I throw them aside and pace the floor in my bare feet, naked as an animal. My heart is skittering erratically around my chest. I feel trapped, caged, though he’s never once told me I couldn’t leave. In fact, he made me leave. I’ve been free all along, and yet, I’m not free. He’s treated me better than anyone ever has, than anyone should, and yet, I think I’ll scream if I see his mask again, if he calls me his good girl one more time. I pull off the earrings and reach for the box they were in, my fingers shaking. I lay them in the jewelry box. There’s a sleek black paper bag with the jeweler’s name on the side because he bought them just for me, maybe just today, and had someone deliver them. There’s a little tag stapled to the bag, the kind that comes on flowers. The kind that tells a delivery person where to send them, since the Phantom never leaves his apartment. There’s a name written on the tag. In looping cursive handwriting, the words Mr. D.

August POV

My phone chimes with a notification on the seat beside me. I check the screen. Lo again. I haven’t seen her all summer. After I found out what Harper did, I was in a bad place for a while. I don’t remember much of the rest of the year. The monster operated in my place, holding space for me until I was ready to come back. When our mission ended, and I had time to think things through, I stopped thinking about what Harper had done and finally looked at the facts behind it. Of course, my mind went straight to the one person who could have told her about Hockington—Gloria Walton. They’d gotten close, thanks to me, and I fucking paid for it. For letting a Darling into my life, letting her get in with my friends. That’s what I get for letting anyone close to me. Still, it’s a dick move on my part not to at least give Lo a chance to defend herself. If she wasn’t the one who told Harper, I cut her off for nothing. Harper could have bribed someone who worked there, seen me leaving with someone and tracked her down, rooted through my stuff or Dad’s when she was at our house and somehow put it together. It’s better this way, though. Better not to have anyone around me who knows shit about my life. When Lo found out about room 504, it felt safer to keep her close, to give her a reason not to tell anyone. Even if we never talked about it, never talked about our families the way I did with Harper or any real shit, our friendship was real. But letting people into my life is a mistake. People blackmail and betray. And if it was her, if she told Harper… Well, Preston can fucking have her. When my phone rings a minute later, I sigh and pick it up. 

We can talk once. Just to clear some things up. I’m not going to give her a ride anywhere, like I used to when she didn’t have gas money. My car smells like a swamp from all the times I’ve dropped my muddy boots and rubber coveralls in here this summer. Gloria would ask questions, and I’m not about to answer. “Hey,” she says. “I figured you’d ghost me again.” “What’s up, Lo?” I ask, my voice sounding weary. “Do you use the OnlyPics app?” “No,” I say flatly, bristling at the insinuation. “Why would I?” “That’s not—I didn’t mean you’d put stuff up.” “Why?” I ask. “You don’t think people would pay to see my dick?” “No!” she says quickly. “I mean, they would, if you wanted to put it up. That’s not why I was asking, though.” “So, you don’t want to see my dick? That’s not how I remember it.” I’m being an asshole, but she’s basically calling me a whore. She knows better than to ask if I use an app that’s basically a sex worker platform. I don’t get paid for sex, and I don’t need to sell pictures of my body for money.

The OnlyPics app was supposed to be a companion to OnlyWords, which is a texting app with, as its name implies, only words in the messages. Everyone likes OnlyWords, but it has no photo sharing capabilities. So the same company made OnlyPics but it was basically a knock-off Instagram where you can’t use captions and the hashtags are hidden, only used by the algorithms to know who to show them to. It probably would have died a quick death if it weren’t for the sex worker industry, who cashed in on three key features—the ability to add a link to profiles, where they added their payment link; the fifteen-second video limit, which let them put up teases to get people hooked; and the private chat feature, which let them send someone the rest of the video for whatever fee they wanted to negotiate or even video chat for a live show. I don’t use the app because I’m not an amateur porn star, and if I want to watch porn, I can do it for free like everyone else. If I need a live feed, I have a phone full of numbers of chicks who would be happy to put on a show for me, and I can do more than watch and jerk off. I’m not interested in that any more than I am this app. “Okay, let’s try this again,” Gloria says. “You remember how Harper disappeared off the face of the earth when you dumped her?” I stiffen in my seat, yanking the wheel to pull off at the nearest exit at the last second. The car behind me lays on the horn, but I ignore it. The noise is almost drowned by the pounding of blood in my ears. “Yeah, what about it?” I ask Gloria. “Well, I think I found her.” “On a porn site?” I ask, hoping like hell someone just uploaded the video of her sucking dick from last year. It fucks with my head to think that one year ago today, I didn’t even know the name Harper Avery. It was another month before I would see her giving head in the parking lot behind the tampon factory. “Hey, don’t judge me,” Gloria says. “Your brothers have been out of town all summer, and you’ve been ignoring me. I’m having a dry spell.” I could tell her the twins are back, but if she ran her mouth to Harper, I don’t want her around my house, running her mouth to my brothers. So I point out the obvious. “There are more than three dicks in this town.” “Once you go Walker, you never go back,” she says lightly. “And anyway, I only saw it because she sent it to Dawson.” I’m glad I pulled over at the exit, because I’d probably run someone off the road right now if I were still driving. I grip the steering wheel with one hand and close my eyes. My voice comes out so normal you’d think I was just a guy who dumped a girl and didn’t give a fuck about what happened to her since. “I’m afraid to ask, but… Does your brother always share porn with you?” “No, you weirdo,” she says. “Someone DM’d him, and I’ve been obsessing about her all summer, so he showed it to me. He thinks it’s funny as shit.” “Why are you obsessing about Harper?” I demand. What the fuck.

 Maybe I should have kept in touch with Lo. She could find out shit, maybe even the truth. “I don’t know,” she says. “Don’t you think it’s weird that she just… Vanished? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not worth going off the deep end over, or that you couldn’t eviscerate her heart so completely she could never love again. She liked to play it cool, but she really loved you, August. Like, the kind of love that eats you alive, and you’re never the same again.” “Put that shit on a ninety-nine cent Valentines card. You could make real money.” “Keep playing you didn’t feel it, too,” she says. “But y’all broke a lot of hearts when you broke up, not just your own. Everyone figured you’d get back together after spring break.”

“What’s your point?” I snap. I don’t need a fucking lecture about how much I disappointed everyone. She can add it to my fucking tab for all the times I fucked up and pissed off everyone who matters. “My point is, even if Harper was devastated beyond repair, she’s not the kind of chick who would let a breakup destroy her. She’s stronger than that. You may be irreplaceable even to her, but you’re still a boy. And it would take more than one boy to break Harper.” Maybe not one boy. But one boy who shared her with two more against her will? A broken hand and a rope she couldn’t get free of, a swamp full of snakes more poisonous than her? Yeah. That could do it. “Then it obviously had nothing to do with me,” I say. “Maybe she got hooked on Lady Alice or Pearl Lady or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now, and she’s selling herself to pay for it like a regular junkie. Hell, her mom basically said as much.” “It did blow up the scene right around that time…” Gloria muses. “Maybe she’ll tell you for the right price,” I say flatly. “That’s all she’s ever cared about.” “August…” 

“What?” “Look, I don’t know everything that went down between you, but I know what it’s like to walk away from love. Just because you broke up doesn’t mean your heart wasn’t decimated, too.” My laugh is brittle, like stepping on glass. “You’re funny, Lo.” I could ask her, just come right out and be blunt, like King. Did you tell Harper about Hockington? But I can’t acknowledge that much aloud. The hotel is its own world. When we leave, we don’t mention what goes on there. I don’t tell the school that Gloria is a scholarship kid. I elevate her, take her to prom, win her crowns. And she never tells anyone that I get a room there every few months. Would she risk telling someone, knowing she could lose it all? Even if she hates me, she loves her status too much to risk it. What would make her turn on me like that? Harper didn’t tell that creep where she found out the information. But it has to be Lo. No one else knows. So, I hung up the phone, letting her think this is about a breakup. That it’s not about a murder, not about a girl coming back from the dead, a ghost dragging her broken body from the swamp and crawling back into my brain to fuck with it even more. I open my email, the one connected to the OnlyWords and OnlyPics apps by default because it’s all made by the same company. I barely remember thumbing away the automatic notifications I got when someone sent me a message this summer. I ignored them all, knowing they were porn spam. My chest is hollow as I open one from my spam folder. It tells me I have twenty-four new messages on OnlyPics. I follow the link and open my direct messages. The first one is a thumbnail of a video, sent this evening. If it’s from Harper, she changed her handle from BadApple. For a few seconds, all I see is a closeup of part of her tattoo. I take it in, examining it until I realize it’s her hip crease, and pressed along the back of her thigh, an expanse of pale skin. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing. Whoever she’s fucking, he’s got her folded in half like her legs are over his shoulders while he nails her into the bed. There’s no caption, and there are no words even on the messenger, so I have to click on the profile to find an explanation. Apple Cream Pie, $1k/min.

Time seems to skip. Some caveman part of me must take over, because the next thing I know it’s five minutes later, and I’m five thousand dollars lighter, and I’m slamming my phone against the top of the steering wheel over and over. I feel it crunch and snap, but I keep pounding it until there’s nothing left in my hand, and the pieces of it are scattered across my lap and the floor. Time skips again. I’m in my driveway at home. Blood is dripping down the steering wheel and into my lap. I open my hand and find pieces of glass jutting from my palm in a dozen places. And all I think about is that day my car was bombed, and Harper tried to pick the glass from my face with her tiny, careful fingers. I climb out of the car. There’s a black Jaguar parked on the gravel, a tall figure leaning against it. I walked up to him. Something in me seems to have been knocked loose, and I think I might fucking kill him, even though it’s just Oliver Finnegan, who never goes inside. He doesn’t approve of the family business. “Hullo, August,” he says, his Irish accent distorting the words. Or maybe it’s the ringing in my ears. “Am I in your spot? I can move the car.” “Don’t worry about it.” He cocks his head, his weird, pale eyes taking in the blood on my pants, my hand. “You alright, mate?” I shrug and head for the house. Just as I’m about to step inside, his brother steps out, a black duffle in one hand, probably full of cash or those fucking pearls everyone’s on about. 

Colin Fucking Finnegan. My eyes narrow, my fists clenching until I can feel the glass biting deeper, piercing through my skin and into the muscle and sinew. “Was it you?” I grind out. Part of me knows it’s impossible, but maybe he sent the photo on his way here, or maybe he took it earlier. I need Baron to find the date signature on a video, if it’s even possible. For all I know, Harper’s dead, and she took those videos herself while we were together. If she’d sell my dignity for a scholarship, why wouldn’t she sell videos of herself fucking other guys when she was with me? “Whatever it was, I bet it was me,” Colin says, flashing me a knowing grin that shows off his chipped front tooth. “Are you still sore about that beating you took last spring?” “You know what it’s about.” “If it’s not that, you’re pissed you didn’t get a cut of this,” he says, jiggling the bag. “Don’t fucking push me right now,” I warn. His creepy eyes go smug. “Or… You still on about that whore? I figured that’s what set you off last spring. Everyone in town knows I fucked her first. Are you just finding out?” “Where is she?” I demand, grabbing him around the neck and slamming him up against the wall. “Where the fuck do you have her, you cum guzzling, festering wad of infected dick cheese?” A cocky, defiant grin stretches his lips. “Aww, did you catch something off her?” he asks. “Wasn’t me, mate. I popped that cherry when there were barely three hairs on her pussy. Haven’t touched her since.” I don’t know exactly what happens next. I don’t see Colin Finnegan in front of me anymore. All I see is red. The next thing I know, my brothers and Dad are holding me down on the steps, and Oliver and their uncle are holding Colin back while he curses and struggles and spits. The white gravel is painted red like the day the Darlings vandalized our house, but this time, it’s blood.

“Let me up,” I growl, shoving off the step and wrenching free of my family. I stalk toward Colin, who writhes like a cat getting a bath. I can feel blood trickling down my face, the jagged edges of a few broken teeth, and the throb of one eye that’s already swelling shut. But I don’t feel pain. The other thing that lives inside me has swallowed it, and I can’t feel a thing. “Come on,” Colin yells, dancing in the grip of his brother. “Let’s do it again. I can go all night. Whoo! I feel alive!” I stop in front of him, ignoring my brothers, who have rushed up behind me to grab me if I lose my shit again. But I’m calm now. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I say to Colin. My lip is broken and swollen so thick my words come out slurred. “If I find out you’re the one who sent those videos, you won’t be alive much longer.” I turn and walk inside. I don’t know why I care. I watched two guys fuck her. I gave them permission. I made sure to watch, so I knew I could never want her again, never think she was mine. I broke her on purpose, but piece by piece, I’m the one falling to pieces.

[specialagentlokitty]

Beckett x reader - the depth of us

Part 5:

Months had gone by, there had still been no sighting off you, and with cases coming across their desks constantly, they had no time to carry on the search.

So, in her spare time that’s what Beckett did, and once again her leads too her to another gang member who she knew wouldn’t talk but went to try anyways.

Looking at the address she had written down, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open to the bar, and everybody turned to look at her.

“You cops don’t know when to give up.”

“I’m looking for Ethan.”

“Why?” Somebody asked.

“Because I am, so, either you tell me where to find him or I search this whole bar, your choice. I’m sure I’ll find some interesting stuff along the way.”

A few people stood up and a door opened.

Turning to face it, Beckett began to walk forward.

“We need to talk.”

“That we do detective.”

He stepped aside, letting her come through to the back into an office and she crossed her arms to watch as he walked around the desk.

“You have a lot of nerve walking in here, you know places like this aren’t exactly safe for police.”

“I have questions you have answers.”

Ethan hummed a little, sitting down and he gestured to a chair which she sat in.

“I won’t tell you where to find them detective.”

“I know you wouldn’t, but you can tell me where to find this man.”

Beckett tossed a photo on the desk and Ethan picked it up, leaning back in his chair before setting it down.

“Never seen him before.”

“Come on, I’m not that stupid. You won’t talk to cops, fine. Right now I’m not a cop, just trying to find a friend, this man is the key to finding your father, who can hopefully help me find (Y/N).”

Ethan set the photo down.

“But of course you already know that, so why won’t you help me find your father?”

“Like I said, I haven’t seen this man, so you can leave now.”

Beckett stood up, slamming her hand on the table.

“Listen here, I know you know who he is and where to find him. If you don’t help me I swear to god I’m going to dig up every speck of dirt on you and throw you behind bars for life.”

Ethan studied Beckett for a moment before he smirked a little.

“Feisty, I can see why (Y/N) likes you so much. That’s why they gave you those rings, right?”

Ethan reached up, touching the rings that hung from the detectives neck and she stood up, touching the necklace back into her shirt.

Ethan opened his laptop, and he did a few things before turning it around to show Beckett.

“Yeah, we know him and where to find him. We can’t get to him, dudes got tighter security than a high security prison.”

“Tell me more.”

Ethan got up to stand next to Beckett, telling her everything that he knew about the current suspect and what they knew about his group.

“So he’s not part of the gangs in the city?”

“No, but we does work with them, you know transportation or should we say products and such.”

Beckett slowly nodded her head.

“You can’t touch him though detective that’s the thing, he’ll be out in minutes.”

“Not with the evidence we have, right now we have enough to hold him for at least a day, and that’s all I need.”

“Think carefully about this, he is a dangerous man.”

Beckett glanced at Ethan, putting the photo back into her pocket.

“So am I.”

Ethan smirked a little.

“Don’t I know it.”

“Why did you help me?” She asked.

He pointed to the chain around her neck.

“That’s more than just some pretty decoration, it’s a symbol. You want something from one of us you’ll find you’ll have no problem getting it, because believe me, people may be scared of us, but they’re more scared of the person who gave you that.”

Beckett narrowed her eyes a little.

“Look, we’re both on the same side here. I want to find my father you want to take (Y/N) out of this, if we find him we can do that.”

“Then why can’t (Y/N) work with us?”

Ethan sighed.

“Their particular… skills should we say wouldn’t be approved of by the NYPD.”

Beckett sighed.

“Look, we can get you an opening to arrest this dude, but it’ll have to be fast.”

“What do you get out of helping us?”

“Hopefully my father back.”

Beckett thought for a moment.

“Nobody in the NYPD can find out about this.”

Ethan held out his hand.

“Deal.”

Beckett shook his hand and left the office only to have the whole bar go quiet again.

Except this time nobody said anything, they let her through without a word.

She didn’t know if she had just made a mistake, but they had been trying to get this guy unsuccessfully for nearly a week.

This was her shot.

So, she had to take it, she had to do whatever she could.

Maybe she wasn’t thinking rationally, but what had been done was done now and there was no going back.

The following day, she was texted by an unknown number to meet her them somewhere at a certain time.

So, after making up some excuse that’s where she went, and she was greet but a few people.

“Two minutes, you walk around that corner with your gun out, we’ve already called for your backup.”

“Thank you.”

They nodded and left, and she glanced at her watch.

Beckett carefully watched the time, and just before the two minute mark she took out her gun and walked around the corner with it raised.

“NYPD Nathan don’t move!” She yelled.

The man looked over, and Ethan made a run for it just before more officers turned around.

Their suspect was surrounded and they managed to arrest him, bringing him into the precinct where they stood behind the glass watching him.

“How the hell did you do it?” Esposito asked.

“Good timing.” Beckett said.

They all looked at her.

“You do what you need to do.” Gates said.

Beckett gave a nod, and she made her way to the room, turning around to stop Castle who was following her.

“No, I need to go in there alone.”

“Beckett you’ve seen what he can do, it isn’t safe.”

“I’m not asking Castle, I’m telling you that you’re not going in that room.”

With that, she walked in and closed the door behind her, throwing a file on the table.

“You’re a very sought out Nathan, your rap sheet is longer than my desk.”

The man looked at her and said nothing.

“But I’m not interested in that, I just want you to tell me what you did with this man.”

Beckett set a photo of Anthony on the table.

“Haven’t seen him before.”

“Cut the crap, I know you have. I know you did business with him, I know that over ten years ago he cut ties with you, and he was your biggest customer. Now you’re loosing more at his orders, that would make me pretty pissed too.”

He scoffed a little.

“I’ll be out of here soon enough, but carry on, I’ve got nowhere to be.”

Beckett threw the file across the room.

“Where the hell is he?!”

“Oh so worked up over a criminal.” He taunted.

Beckett pushed the table into him, making him fall from his chair with a laugh.

“Give it up, you know I won’t talk.”

“Maybe you won’t talk to me, but I know there’s people outside this building you will talk to.”

“Oh?”

Nathan slowly sat up as he looked at her.

“They don’t have rules like I do, anything goes, but I’m sure you won’t mind chatting with them.”

Beckett began to clean up the mess she had made, and Nathan carefully watched her.

“You’re bluffing.”

She glanced at him, and she pulled the necklace out to show him before putting it away.

“Is that a risk you’re willing to take…?” She whispered.

“You can’t..”

“When you leave this building you’re none of my concern.”

Beckett gathered everything and made her way towards the door.

“You can’t let them get to me.”

“You won’t talk to me, that’s not my issue.”

“I swear I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but that fucker running them? Absolutely fucking deranged, I’m begging you.”

Beckett reached for the door.

“I was hired!” Nathan yelled.

Smirking a little, Beckett composed herself and turned back around.

“Tell me everything you know.”

“Yes okay, I was hired to take Anthony, but my clients aren’t interested in him, he’s safe. I can tell you where to find him.”

“Then why hire you take to him.”

Nathan pointed to her necklace.

“The person who gave you that is who they’re interested in, right now they’re running the dragons, yesterday I gave them information on how to find Anthony but it was fake.”

“What?!”

“It was a set up, okay? I don’t know why, I don’t know who. I get the money and the instructions that’s it. I’ll give you whatever you need… just don’t let them get me..”

“If (Y/N) isn’t there then who is giving the orders?”

“Probably Ethan, they would’ve had a backup plan just in case this happened.”

“You’re going to give us the information we need to find Anthony and everything else.”

Beckett stormed out of the room, heading straight to the night club.

Inside was Ethan and Hector talking about something, immediately going quiet when she walked over.

“You were right, the detective does how them on.” Hector said.

“Ethan where is (Y/N)?”

“I told you I can’t say.”

“You don’t know do you?”

Ethan furrowed his brows.

“It was a set up, your father wasn’t the target, it was (Y/N).”

A tense silence fell over the room.

“We’re sending people to get your father now, but we don’t know where (Y/N) is.”

“Then we do everything we can to find them.” Ethan said lowly.

He followed Beckett, and Hector trailed behind them to leave the building.

First they had to get Anthony, then they had to find you as soon as they could before anything happened to you

[ithaquasbbg]

So.. I will get to requests, but I’m doing a challenge with a disc server to write one Itha fic every day this month.. so that will be prioritized. I think I’ll do one req every other day, or maybe every day still :)

“Once a hero, now a villain”

Pairing : Morningstar Ithaqua! x lol the reader is dead and he’s sad. This is a sort of “character study” of who Morningstar could have been prior to the trailer, before he had become as crazy as he is currently. : D

Helel stands at the foot of your grave, flowers in hand. There’s a moment of silence before he sits down in front of the gravestone, tracing the outline of your name with his finger. “I wonder if you were to see me now, darling, would I still be your hero?”

He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the wedding rings on his fingers, he had saved yours. Helel had saved almost everything that belonged to you, to save the memory. Perhaps it was also to save the memories of when he was still your “hero”, when he was your world.

The memories of you two are so precious to him, but seem to slowly becoming less and less him, more of a person he used to be. He still remembers your voice, your touch. Even your last few conversations..

….

You sit next to Helel next to the River, staring off at the sunset. He’s anxious, you can tell, so you offer him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Are you thinking about tomorrow?” You ask, seeing Helel nod. He wasn’t usually a quiet person, so current silence was out of the ordinary.

“What if tomorrow turns out badly, (name)? What if I fail and you get hurt?” He grabs onto you, holding you close. “All I want is to protect all the people who are hurting under my brothers rule but.. I cannot fathom losing you in the process.” This is the first time he’s voiced his worries on the topic, and it took you by surprise.

“You won’t be losing me, my love.” You respond, cupping his cheek with your hand. “And even if you did, I’d die with you as my hero. Nothing could ever change that, Helel.” He smiles weakly, still unsure of what was to come, though he seems calmed by what you said. “I’ll do my best to keep you safe..” he whispers, leaning his head on your shoulder as the two of you stare off into the sunset.

….

“Helel, look at me” You snap your fingers in front of his face, holding his wounded body close to you as the last of The Suns soldiers are forced to submit. He opens his eyes, a look of pain visible on his bruised face.

“What were you thinking, Helel?” You hold him close, tears flowing down your face. “You could have died. Your brother could have killed you.” There’s a moment that passes where he doesn’t say anything, until he looks up at you with a weak smile. “But he would have hurt you, darling. I could never allow that to happen.”

The two of you stay together for a while in silence, holding each other tight as you come down from the height of the battle. “Even if I had gotten hurt, you would still be my hero, you would still be the hero of everyone you managed to free today..” You slowly help him up, allowing his injured frame to lean against yours as you walk to the closest medic. “(Name), I will always be your hero, right?”

….

The weeks spent on the throne had not been kind to Helel’s mental state. His behavior was becoming erratic, his paranoia worsening. On this specific night he wakes up in a fit of panic, grasping his chest as if his heart may come out.

“(Name), (name)!” He shakes you awake, sobbing as he holds you tightly. “Helel?” You look up at him confused, slowly reaching your hand up to wipe his tears. “You’re not dead.. thank god” He’s still crying, though it’s not as awful as it had been just a moment ago. “I thought those rebels got you.. I thought I lost you” He’s still breathing quickly, though is calmed by the knowledge that you’re not truly dead, that it had been a dream.

This wasn’t the first time an incident like this had occurred in the last few weeks. In fact, almost every night. Since Helel had overthrown his brother, he had woken up in the middle of the night, afraid that somebody had killed you, afraid that he had failed you. “I’m supposed to be your hero, (name). He says, holding you tight once he calms down enough to lay back down. “But those dreams.. they make me fear that I failed you, that when you needed me the most, I failed you.”

His fear of failure had always been horrible, especially in the early days of his exile when you had first met Helel. But, they had never gotten this bad. “Helel, my moon, it’s okay.” You kiss his forehead, trying to comfort him the best you possibly could. “You have not failed me. You will never fail me.”

….

“(Name)…” He holds your hand while he watches your sleeping body, the one he knew was never going to wake up again. The rebels had gotten you, just as he had feared. After an argument, you had left to go to the gardens to cool off, and next thing he knew, you were laying on the ground screaming.

You had begged him to not let you die yet, that you wanted to grow old with him. Though it doesn’t seem like that dream will become a reality. He holds a knife in his hands, tears running down his cheeks as he lowers it down to you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry..” he says in between sobs. “I can’t bear to see you in this much pain anymore.”

He was no longer your hero, how could Helel possibly call himself a hero when he was the one to kill you? He swore he’d protect you, but in the end he had been the reason you perished. Helel cups your cheeks with his shaking hands one last time as he kisses you. “I’ll always love you, I promise.”.

And with that, he gently takes the wedding ring on your finger and puts it on the same finger as his own, holding back his tears as he looks at you one last time.

….

“I wouldn’t be your hero..” he mumbles, placing the flowers in front of your gravestone. “I’d be nothing but a villain.” In a way, he’s right. Every single thing he had overthrown his brother for doing, he had done. He was no different than The Sun, and he was the very thing you wanted to remove from this world.

Helel was no longer the loving man he had been when he met you, instead the facade of the “Morningstar”, as he had begun to call himself, was presented by others. He was not the man you loved, not the man you had called your “hero”. Helel was nothing but the villain the two of you had sworn to destroy.

- yay all done! -

First time writing angst in a while.. it was fun, but all over the place lol. I love the idea that Helel was probably a softer person before he had become the Morningstar as we know him.. that he could have once been more similar to the normal Ithaqua. :D