#She holds her head high as the flames consume her

[iwasntstable]

𝗡.𝗦. | 𝗡𝗢𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗚𝗢 | 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘_𝗢𝗡𝗘

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/SERIES/NOWHERETOGO [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | [series] | one-shot | blurb | head-cannons 　　﹂ [nowhere-to-go]

Series Summary: You knew the decision to follow your father into the so-called 'most dangerous Ward' was a dangerous one, but you had to do anything and everything possible to keep him alive. He's the only family you have left. Growing evermore reckless after the death of your mother and blinded by his lust for retribution, this decision is one that will alter the course of your life forever. And the life of a half-ghoul half-human who never thought he'd find himself entangled with the daughter of a former CCG Investigator.

NOWHERE TO GO is a multi-chapter story set in the Tokyo Ghoul universe, centring around Half-Ghoul!Noah and Human!Reader.

Chapter Content Tags: depictions of violence and gore, victims of fire, brief mentions of death.

Word Count: 1k.

Note: Please be aware this story is set in the universe of Tokyo Ghoul, before the events of the manga and anime. It will, however, contain references to content found in the source material. specific content warnings will always be applied at the beginning of each chapter.

✶ [join the NOWHERE TO GO taglist.]

➔read on AO3➔➔ ——　/　NEXT

CREDIT › image — 'Tokyo Ghoul:re - Chapter 54' - 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida). › image edit — @iwasntstable (me). › star divider — @saradika-graphics. › short grey divider — @saradika-graphics. › Tokyo Ghoul — created by 石田 スイ (Sui Ishida).

Scenes of violence were not rare in the 13th Ward. Disputes over territories were as commonplace as the fires that consumed whole buildings, occurring almost every night. Outsiders knew better than to move into the chaos, and residents often found it difficult to leave—the reputation of their Ward preceding them. As an area with an exceptionally high ghoul population, the CCG routinely ran operations in attempts to reduce these numbers and regain control. To take back the 13th Ward. To cull entire families and end bloodlines on the utterance of a single order from a single Senior Investigator.

Many knew not to get involved when the screams could be heard. If they were far enough away, it wasn’t worth risking your own life by getting involved. But for those that were nearby, those with friends and loved ones in the flames, it was worth any risk to save them. Charred bodies lined the pavement. Once recognisable faces were reduced to discoloured, anonymous forms, identifiable only by their personal effects.

“That’s my daughter!” Someone cried. “My girl, that’s my girl!”

“No! No, please! Tell me he’s alive!”

“Where is she?! My girlfriend, she went back inside to get her coat. Where is she?!”

“He’s breathing! This one’s still breathing, over here!” A woman waves her arms in a signal for help, soot staining her skin. “Hurry! He’s just a kid!” The flames light the way for the medics, flickering shadows performing a macabre dance across the small body on the concrete.

“Move back, please,” they order. Checking for signs of life; breathing shallow, noisy, and irregular; pulse weak and thready; pupils responsive; extensive burns across the entire body. Weak signs, but signs nonetheless. “We need a parent to provide consent for treatment. Where are his parents?” the medic asks. 

The woman kneeling by his side shakes her head solemnly, turning to face the flames.

The first thing he sees is the light, blindingly bright overhead, and the sound of a voice speaking to him softly. He felt no pain, nor did he feel fear.

“Can you hear me?”

He tries to speak, but his voice doesn’t come. Only then does he realise how desperately thirsty he is.

“Here son. Here, drink this,” the kind voice holds a plastic cup to his lips, the cool water soothing the burn in his throat. “Now, how are you feeling?”

“What happened?” The boy rasps, eyes squeezed tight against the light.

“There was a fire. You’re lucky to have survived. It was close for a while, but we pulled it off,” he sounded proud, almost smug. “Can you open your eyes for me, son?”

Through his eyelids, he sees the light overhead disappear, and when he cracks his eyes open, he’s met with the smiling face of a man. A smile that only gets wider as he looks from one eye to the other. 

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fascinating… Truly remarkable.” The man pulls a slender, pen-like object from his pocket, clicking the button on the top and holding it over the boy’s face. “Can you look to the right for me, please... and the left...” Following obediently as he shines the light in his eyes, seeing now that he’s looking around the room, a bouquet of flowers sitting on the side table, and the bundled-up form of someone sleeping in a plastic chair.

The man retrieves a notebook from his breast pocket, pulls the pen from the spine, and furiously scribbles some notes. “And you feel- How do you feel?” 

“I feel a little tired,” his voice still hoarse. “And hungry.”

“Hungry?” The man’s interest piqued, jotting it down. “Hungry for what, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Just, really hungry.”

“I’ll ask a nurse to bring you something. We’ll need to monitor your appetite and fluid intake…” He trailed off as he flipped through the pages of his book. 

The voice of the boy broke the man from his thoughts, “where are my parents?”

“Oh. Oh, son I’m sorry, but you’re the only one who survived the fire. Forty-nine bodies were recovered. The coroner is still working on identifying everyone-”

“Hey!” A voice from the corner of the room yelled. “Stop it! Get out, leave him alone!”

“Now listen, I am his physician. I’m only trying to help.”

“You’ve done enough.” The boy that was sleeping in the chair stands now between the doctor and the boy, his tone venomous.

“Alright,” the man holds his hands up, any trace of that kind smile now gone. Without another word, he flips his notebook closed, pockets his little flashlight, and exits the hospital room.

“Nick? What’s going on?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Noah, it’s going to be okay,” he tucks his hair behind his ear to keep it out of his face, taking Noah’s hand in his.

“Is that true?” He was panicking now. "Nick, what did he mean I’m the only one that survived?”

Tears filled Nick’s eyes. This was something he never wanted to have to say to anyone, let alone his best friend. “I’m sorry, Noah. I’m so sorry.”

He can feel the dread rising in his chest, crawling up his throat and threatening to choke him. The green line on the heart rate monitor screen to his left jolted up and down rapidly.

“That’s not all,” his friend’s voice is quiet, face downcast.

“What do you mean?” Noah’s voice hitches when he asks, wondering how much worse things could get. All Nick does is hand him a mirror.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, hands shaking as they take it. He’s expecting the worst. To look upon his reflection and see a charred monster staring back at him, but as he raises it to his face, everything seems normal. His skin is still smooth and intact, if a little pale. But when he meets his own eyes, he feels like he’s lost the ability to breathe. Because the reflection staring back at him has one perfectly normal, brown eye but the other, pitch black, surrounding a blazing red iris.

One eye of a human. The other eye of a ghoul.

　——　/　NEXT

[mossy-opal]

The flames lick at my feet

Their hearts full of hate

What they don't understand, they condemn

What they can't comprehend must meet its end

But I won't scream, won't give them that satisfaction

No, I won't confess my false interaction

As I breathe deep and prepare for my passing

I hear them chant, "Burn the witch!"

[brokenmenswhore]

can I request a jace x reader? rhanerya sends her kids away (s3e3) and baela is off worried about king’s landing so he’s lonely and misses his family and it’s just super pure and fluffy?

if all else burns | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacearys valeryon x reader

warnings: s2e3 spoilers!

a/n: sometimes i feel like i’m fighting for my life with the spelling of some of these names that have either ‘ae’ or ‘ea’ in the middle. a lil short i hope that’s ok!

────── ☾ ──────

Jacearys did everything he could to hold his head up high at all times, but each day weighed him down more and more. He still grieved his little brother, his betrothed was off on her dragon keeping an eye on King’s Landing, and now his mother was sending the last of his younger siblings away for their safety.

He was proud to stick around, happy he was needed, but being professional at all times was getting difficult.

He hugged his younger brothers, squeezing them one last time before they were sent off with Rhaena.

He attended his mother’s council meetings, standing tall and keeping his mouth shut. He held his head up high and supported his mother.

You and Jace had been friends since childhood, always leaning on one another when things got hard. Your family had sworn allegiance to Aegon II, so you had fled to Dragonstone in support of Rhaenyra and her family. You couldn’t imagine what Jace was going through, his entire family at war, and no matter what he did, he just kept having to say goodbye to someone.

“Jace?” you whispered, slowly pushing open the door to the room he was sat in, elbows on his knees as he watched the fireplace.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “everything ok?”

You walked closer to him, taking the seat next to him. “I actually came to ask you the same thing.”

You watched Jace, the fire contouring his face differently each time the flames moved. “I miss Luke,” he spoke.

You reached out a hand, placing it atop one of his. “I know.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, watching the fire dance before he finally spoke again. “Everyone keeps leaving. I fear it’ll only get harder with the war.”

You stood at this, moving in front of him and kneeling before him. His eyes met yours in a moment of vulnerability.

“I won’t leave, Jace. I’m right here.”

He smiled at you, pressing his forehead against yours and taking a deep breath. You continued, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not sure what I would do without you.”

You smiled warmly, “good thing for you that you’ll never have to find out.”

You leaned up and hugged him, allowing him to take a deep, relaxing breath while his chin rested on your shoulder.

“I don’t want to fight this war,” he admitted, “I just want it all to stop. If the Greens would just give my mother her throne, we could move on from all of this- this hatred.”

You pulled out of the hug, placing your hands on either side of Jace’s face.

“I wish for the same,” you replied, “but until then, you are strong, and you will persist.”

“I’m so tired of being strong.” His voice broke, tears threatening to spill.

“So be weak with me.”

Jace smiled as you pulled him into another hug, allowing him to cry for a bit in your arms, using your presence as an outlet for the emotions he never let out. You knelt there for several minutes, not daring to move, just allowing him to get it all out.

When his breathing calmed down, he pulled back a bit and pressed his forehead to yours again.

“I don’t know what to do,” he began to ramble, “I don’t know how to keep everyone safe. I’m supposed to lean on Baela, but she’s been so occupied surveying King’s Landing that she’s rarely ever here. My mother grieved, and now needs to be pragmatic, rather than let her grief consume her, but how do you not let this grief consume you? Until my grandsire died, everything was so simple. The only squabbles were between Luke and Aemond. I don’t know how everything got so complicated. I miss the peace.”

You felt bad for him. You empathized with him; he was in such a complicated position, and you could tell he felt like his family was shrinking with the war, making his responsibilities even more important. His mask of strength was fading. You were the only outlet he had.

“You mean everything to me, Jace,” you spoke, “if all else fails, if all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

Jace smiled. “If all else burns, we’ll always have one another.”

[heavenbloom]

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ: BOYCOTT TLOU, AID, DAILY CLICK.

don’t skip over this. do what you can!

now playing: hold on — the internet

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, no plot, sub!ellie, oral (e!receiving), slight nipple play (e!receiving), hickeys, ooc probably, not proofread

it wasn’t a lust that gnashed its teeth. it wasn’t the all-consuming, foolhardy desire ellie was used to. no, this was foreign and torturous in its creeping. it twined through her ribcage and constricted her lungs, the roots of a tree scrabbling for the fresh soil of her heart.

this was more than clandestine journal entries or fumbling love songs in the comfort of her room. when she looked at you, what an angel, her very blood sang with hymns of your beauty.

each smile cast her way, each compelling stare, brought a new wave of something saccharine, blood rushing to her cheeks and rendering her throat dry. she’d never been robbed of words the way you snatched them from the tip of her tongue, with an absentminded, innocent brush of skin on skin.

there was a throb, an ache, within the very depths of her that demanded attention, yours alone. one touch, her soul silently begged. just one fucking kiss.

it was surreal, the reciprocation. she couldn’t quite believe it when her back hit your soft mattress, her cheeks a vibrant watercolour wash of pink. even as you stripped her unbearably slowly, she couldn’t keep her hands off you, if only to confirm that this was real.

when she laid bare beneath you, your hands gripped her wrists, pinning them to the side of her head gently. she let out something animal-like, a high whine bubbling from her chest as she felt the flame of your lips flicker down her neck languidly, taking their time as they trailed to her collarbone and reached the small swell of her breasts. a starlight of freckles danced across the skin there, with two rosy buds just begging for attention.

you kissed the skin there, delighting in the anticipatory way her chest heaved before you gave in to what she so desperately wanted.

your tongue swirled around one nipple, then the other, before latching your mouth onto one of them. a gasp rose from the girl beneath you, the velvet of your tongue causing her to arch her back slightly into your teasing touches.

“so worked up already…” you murmured against her burning skin.

she squirmed and twisted her wrists in response, as impatient as ever. although she could have easily broken from your grasp, she kept them down, suppressing the urge to touch your hair and hold your head closer to her chest.

you kept lavishing attention onto her, alternating between scattering sweetly stinging love bites across the flesh and sucking on her perky nipples. you could feel each tremor and deep, gasping breath, her body thrumming with life and need underneath you.

after her breasts were littered with the blooming purple-red of hickeys, you lifted your head to look up at her face.

a whine rose in her throat. “why’d you stop?” her usually deep and even voice was now wavering and raw with desire and desperation. auburn strands of her short hair were swept over the mossy green of her eyes, her pupils blown out and animalistic.

your fingers, phantom-light, slid from the bottom of her ribcage, down the plane of her stomach and to her warm cunt. your fingers grazed her slick folds, a sigh escaping her lips.

it was obvious she wanted your mouth elsewhere.

your lips followed the trail of your fingers, openmouthed kisses down her abdomen until you stopped at her cunt. a shiver passed through her body as she felt your breath ghosting over it.

you admired her cunt for a moment, pink and glistening in the dim warm light. you spread her folds with your fingers, the sound of it already obscene.

another tremor passed through ellie as she propped herself on her elbows. there was a wanton pinch to her eyebrows, her swollen bottom lip drawn between her top teeth. you would have loved to kept her teetering on the edge of pleasure, but who were you to deny her? she had already melted for you, syrupy and heady, like dissolved sugar.

your mouth met her pussy, lips delving into the slick sweetness that laid there, a sigh leaving your lips and reverberating against it. you licked a stripe up her slit, the taste of her arousal ambrosial. her cunt was petal-soft and heavenly on your tongue.

her fingers, in a frenzied movement, pushed your head further into her cunt, a moan puncturing the air, melodic and rippling through the air. your tongue swirled around the stiff pink bundle of nerves in response before your mouth closed around it and sucked gently.

your gentleness was a thing that ellie craved, the way your tongue carved out the purest of ecstasy from her depths with languidness and a few meaningful strokes.

her body writhed, hips bucking against your face in a plea of more, more, more. you were more than happy to oblige, tongue diving deeper as your nose nudged against her clit.

the swell of her oncoming orgasm was roiling within her, her entire body shaking beneath your ministrations. her thighs quivered in the heat of your fingers as you held them spread open for you.

with a burst of tension within her, her body began to convulse and tighten, a string of fragmented words and praises leaving her lips, broken up by unabashed whimpers and gasps. her head was thrown back, hair sticking to the base of her throat as she poured out pure euphoria from her being.

you lapped at her juices as if it were a thing of the gods, something to savour and worship, until you were certain the tremors in her body subsided.

you lifted your head, mouth and chin smeared with her wetness still, to get a better look at her. her breath came out in deep, drawling gasps, green eyes vibrant with the halo of a post-orgasmic glow.

with gentle movements, you propped yourself over her, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair from her face. you brought your face down, lips connecting with hers. she tasted it then, herself and her fervent desire for you, on the silky whisper of your tongue against hers.

her heart beat rapidly, with a newer thing coiling in her veins. she wanted more.

[thatacotargirl]

The Daughter of Day (2)

Welcome back to The Daughter of Day, a series exploring a new Court and a triad, because why not!

I hope you enjoy chapter 2 🌟

This story is set after A Court of Silver Flames.

My inbox remains open for oneshot/imagine requests.

Taglist: @fightmedraco @lilah-asteria @acourtofsmutandstarlight

A Reader x Feysand Fanfiction

Reader's POV

It had been over a week since my father had sent a request to Rhysand asking to host me as a visitor in Velaris, and we still hadn't received a reply. I knew it might take a while, with Rhysand being a High Lord and no doubt as busy as my father was most days, but I couldn't help the heavy feeling in my heart that I might be refused and I'd have to carry on living in Day. It wasn't that I disliked my home court - it had beauty to rival even the most glowing stars in the sky - but it was suffocating being trapped in the palace. Every morning I woke with no plans other than to walk the castle walls, hiding from the palace guards who would no doubt scoop me up and take me back to the safe confines of my bedroom if they found me. Every night, I'd fall asleep hoping my dreams would whisk me away to adventure, fun, freedom. Then, I'd wake up, and I'd do it all again.

Rhysand's POV

Rhys sat in his office sifting through endless piles of paperwork with a sigh. Azriel sat to his left, writing furiously into a notebook, his tongue sticking out slightly with concentration. Rhys chuckled inwardly, and rose from the desk, pacing around the office with his pen tapping against his thigh. He was feeling restless and couldn't quite put a pin on why. He was more than satisfied with his life as it was - he had a beautiful mate, a perfect son, a loving family, war had been won, and life was rebuilding. He had defied all odds and had come out stronger, despite the trauma that lingered below the surface. But, in spite of that, he felt like a part of him was missing. Like he had completed the puzzle that was him, his life, but there was one piece that he had overlooked and left the puzzle incomplete.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a handful of letters from the desk and began slotting through them, tossing the occasional one into the trashcan by his desk. Suddenly, one gold envelope caught his eye. He placed the pile back on the desk to hold the envelope with both hands, feeling the power of its author within. That heat, that sun, that all glowing all consuming power could belong to one High Lord, and one High Lord only - Helion. Rhys carefully opened the letter and reviewed its contents.

Dearest Rhysand, It was a pleasure to be hosted by yourself and your wonderful family this week; and the Day Court remains a staunch ally to you and your Court. I write on matters unrelated to alliance. My daughter, y/n, is finding herself lost amongst Day Court. I admit that I may have 'coddled' her, as one might say, but I did so for fear of her life and safety, and out of love. However, she now wishes to experience a world outside of my shining walls. Would you be so gracious as to allow y/n to visit Velaris for a period of time? I ask this as your ally, and friend, as I trust that y/n will be safe with you in your City of Starlight. Yours truly, Helion.

Rhysand was surprised at the request. Helion had kept his daughter hidden in the confines of the Day Court palace for 25 years, and was now allowing her to not only leave the palace, but leave the Court entirely? He shook his head, almost inclined to deny the request. He could not be responsible for y/n's safety, even if Velaris had the lowest crime rate of all Prythian. If something were to happen to y/n within his court, it could result in war and bloodshed. He took up his pen to write his reply, denying the request, but felt himself hesitate.

Rhys knew better than many what it felt like to be trapped. To feel as though your life wasn't your own to live because you were being held against your will, not able to spread your wings and explore, live, enjoy what this world had to offer. He sat as his hands touched the paper and he found his fingers moving on their own accord.

Dear Helion, The Night Court would be delighted to host y/n. She may stay at our River House for as long as she wishes. Please do send word of when we can expect her arrival and we will ensure that a room is prepared. Regards, Rhysand.

Reader's POV

With a sigh, you put away the book that was resting on your lap and head towards your bedroom. The book was a romance, one you had read so many times over that you were sure you could re-write it verbatim, where the protagonist pursues revenge against those who wronged him to win back his one true love. Whilst romance books were your guilty pleasure, a part of you would always feel sad that perhaps you might not get to experience romance like those you read. Although, maybe nobody did, and that's why the books were so popular - everyone pined to be desired in a way that could only be conveyed on the pages of a story, and not in real life.

As you rounded the corridor and headed towards your bedroom door, you were intercepted.

"Y/n, my darling! I have news from the Night Court".

Your head shot up to meet your father's eyes, your own no doubt full of hope.

"Rhysand has offered for you to stay at the River House in Velaris".

You felt your heart jump with joy and excitement. It was finally happening.

"When can I go?", you asked eagerly, already mentally packing your bags with your favourite dresses and shoes.

"Whenever you wish, my sunshine. I will gladly take you myself".

After giving your father a quick hug, you ran full pelt into your bedroom and grabbed a bag from the back of your closet. After packing a small bag of personal items, you gazed around the drawers and closets at your clothes and halted. The beautiful golden sundresses, flowing skirts and cropped t'shirts were perfect for Day Court, but you were almost certain that you might freeze in the Night Court, not to mention that you would stick out like a sore thumb. Feeling a presence enter your bedroom, you turn to see your father make his way to the edge of your bed.

"I will provide Rhysand with a stipend to cover the expenses of you living with them, and some extra to get yourself some more appropriate clothing", he winked. You smiled at him, grateful that your father somehow always knew what you were thinking without you needing to say it. You walk over to him and reach out to take his hand.

"Thank you, for everything", you say, as he pulls you in for a hug.

"Anything for you, my sunshine".

A moment passes and you find yourself wallowed by feelings of guilt. Guilt for wanting to leave the haven that he built for you. Guilt for wanting to explore without him. You were his only child, his pride and joy, and here you were wanting to leave the nest - and leave him behind in it. Sensing your change in emotions, Helion pulls back from the hug to stare sincerely at your face.

"You make me proud everyday, y/n. You have grown into a beautiful, wise, and kind young woman and I am so proud that you are my daughter. I want you to live the life you've always dreamed of, even if that means it isn't here with me. And, no matter what, I will always be here for you when you decide to return".

You can feel the tears falling steadily down your face as you silently sob. Even though this is what you wanted more than anything else in the world, it didn't make it hurt any less.

"Come, let's go now". Helion offers you his hand and you gladly accept it, picking up the one bag that you had decided to bring with you. With one last look at your bedroom, you offer your father a silent nod, and close your eyes as you feel his power surround you both and winnow you away from the Day Court. Away from home.

You arrive with a thump at the steps of the River House you had visited a few weeks prior, and Helion reached up to knock on the giant door. Waiting, you turn to eye to streets around you, watching the citizens of Velaris go about their days chatting happily and laughing. It was dusk by the time you had arrived, and people were bustling their way down towards the main town in search of food and entertainment for the evening.

The door opened and you turned back to see Feyre, High Lady of the Night Court, standing before you. Her sister, Elain, stood at her side. Both women were smiling.

"Y/n! Welcome back to Velaris! Come in, come in", Feyre gestures to the house, moving out of the doorframe. You move to enter, but stop when you realise your father isn't following.

"This is where I leave you, sunshine. But know I am always here if you need me, and I will come and visit you in a few weeks to see how you are getting on". You can see through the smile on his face right to the sadness in his eyes.

You feel the tears pricking your own eyes but you desperately fight them back, not wanting to cry in front of Feyre and Elain. You lunge forward into your father's arms and hold him, squeezing as tightly as you possibly can, before giving him a salute and walking into the River House. You didn't trust your words not to give away the tears or beg for him to take you back to the comforts of Day; but it seems that nothing slipped past Feyre, as she reached out to pull you into a hug of her own, Elain quietly closing the door behind you.

"I know how hard it can be to make that first step to independence, y/n, you don't have to fight your emotions for our sakes", she offered, stroking your hair and letting your cry quietly on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so happy to be here, it's just harder than I expected".

You felt a hand rub your back and turned to see Elain, a sincere and kind smile on her face. You offered her a watery smile back.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up and then we can have dinner?" she asked, peeling you away from Feyre and guiding you up the stairs. You could hear commotion behind the various doors of the River House but Elain quickly led you to a door at the end of the hall. She opened it and you gasped, surprised to see that the room inside was decorated in the finest Day Court gold you had seen. You turned to Elain as she smiled.

"We figured it would be hard, leaving home for the first time, so we wanted to do something to help you settle. Helion sent us some furniture from your home and we added the rest, I hope it's ok?".

You nodded, completely speechless. Elain walked past you into the adjoining bathroom and began running you a bath as you emptied the contents of your bag. You placed the items around the room; the make-up on the vanity table, the books on your bedside, and the soft yellow blanket you'd had since you were a baby across the end of your new bed. You carried your few toiletries to the bathroom as Elain closed off the water, the smell of jasmine and honey wafting through the air.

"I hope you don't mind, I used my own bath oils as we didn't know what scent you'd like, but we have plans to go into Velaris tomorrow to buy you everything you need".

"We?", you asked.

"You, me, Feyre, and Mor!", she exclaimed excitedly. Her warming and happy energy made you want to smile.

"That sounds wonderful", you grinned back at her, "I haven't met Mor yet, she wasn't able to make the meeting when I was here last".

"You'll meet her tonight, she's coming to dinner. She's Rhys' cousin and lives not too far from here. She's also convinced everyone to go to Rita's tonight, but you don't have to join if you'd prefer to get some rest and settle in here".

"Rita's?"

"It's kind of like a club, Feyre and Mor love to go and dance, and Cassian usually causes some mayhem there. I don't often go but Feyre asked me to this time, she even went out of her way to get Amren to babysit Nyx instead of me!" Elain chuckled to herself. "I think it might be in case you wanted to come, they have a habit of drinking themselves into a bit of a stupor and might be a bit overwhelming to handle on your own".

"Nyx?", you asked, trying to remember the names of everyone you had heard of in the Night Court.

"Feyre and Rhysand's son", she paused, seeing the surprise on your face. "You know, maybe you should join us tonight if you're feeling up to it, you have quite a lot to catch up on!"

You couldn't help but return Elain's smile. Perhaps this would be a good way to get to know everyone and break the ice. "Sure, I'd like to join".

"Great! I'll let Feyre know and have her find some options for you to wear tonight. Speaking of, I'll go and find you some things to wear for dinner too - back in a moment" she smiled, and left the bathroom.

You undressed and climbed into the bath, big enough to fit at least another 4 of you in it, and sank down into the water, letting yourself soak away the emotions of the day. You couldn't help the smile that adorned your face, in spite of your lingering guilt and sadness at leaving your court behind. You had received such a warm welcome in Velaris and-

You heard a crash outside the landing, someone shouting and swearing, and a whole host of laughter as something transpired down the hall from your bedroom. You recognised the echo of Feyre's laugh and Elain's giggles, as a male - Cassian, perhaps? - swore like a sailor. You could pick out a few words; paint, prank, and glue.

You laughed and sank deeper into the water, regrouping your mind. It had been a busy enough day as it was, and it looked like it was only going to get busier still.

[springwitch26]

green like her eyes (part 2) (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

part 1

summary: you and melissa enjoy smoking weed together to blow off steam from work. this time, things get really steamy.

warnings: smut (18+), recreational marijuana use, consensual high sex, i'm a big fan of dirty talk can you tell

notes: consume drugs responsibly. my requests are open—what do you want to read next? leave a reply and i'll kiss you sweetly 💚

despite your best efforts, you both got soaked in the rain. you were high, so running through the woods felt like flying—but in reality, you two were pretty sluggish as you made your way back to melissa's house. it had been an exhausting work week, after all.

when you found shelter on melissa's front porch, you spent a moment catching your breath and giggling at the absurdity of your situation. melissa fumbled with her keys as her eyes, dark and slightly bloodshot, raked over you.

your thin blouse and skirt were thoroughly drenched and nearly see-through. she made a point not to look below your waist, but she did sneak several peeks at your breasts as they bounced with every breathy laugh. your hair was disheveled, and your makeup had been ruined by the water dripping down your face. you looked messy, and melissa's heart raced at the thought of seeing you like this in a different context.

seeing you shiver broke her out of her trance, and melissa swiftly unlocked the door. she guided you inside with a hand on your lower back and followed after you. once inside, you hesitated to venture past the welcome mat. your clothes were dripping wet and freezing cold, and the last thing you wanted to do was make a mess of melissa's treasured home.

"it's a little late to get shy on me now, sweetheart," melissa said, watching you hover by the door with your arms wrapped around yourself. "you're shakin' like a leaf. come warm up by the fire."

melissa crooked two fingers at you, calling you over to her, and at this point you were convinced she was teasing you on purpose. she had to know that you were thinking about those two fingers curling and pumping inside you.

nonetheless, you obeyed melissa and joined her by the fireplace. dazed and still deeply high, you thought nothing of resting your head on her shoulder.

"mel, i'm coooold," you whined in her ear. "these clothes feel awful."

your clothes felt like icy weights on your body, and you wanted them off as soon as possible. so did melissa. she didn't miss a beat.

"you can borrow some of mine. be right back, okay?" she kissed your cheek lightly—so lightly you thought you imagined it—before rushing upstairs to her room.

uncomfortable and missing melissa already, you had only one goal: to get those evil clothes off your body. you pawed and tugged at your shirt in an attempt to pull it over your head and off. but with your motor skills having taken a hit from the weed, you failed. instead, you got stuck with your arms above your head and the shirt halfway off.

"jeez, hon! what'd ya get yourself into now?" melissa's tone was playful as she came swiftly to your rescue. she took hold of the shirt and instructed you to hold still. "easy now... there we go."

melissa didn't hesitate to help you out of that predicament. she also wasn't prepared to see you topless. as soon as the blouse came off, melissa felt herself salivate. her hands almost tingled with the need to touch you, to map out every inch of soft skin and commit it to memory. she held back for the moment, but her resolve was weakening.

"my hero!" you pulled melissa into a quick hug, missing the way her face flamed at the feeling of your almost-bare chest against hers. "can you help me with one more thing?"

you turned around and gestured toward your bra, hoping she would unhook it for you. the bra, too, was soaked through. in the corner of her eye, melissa caught your nipples straining against the damp fabric, and she took pity.

her fingers left goosebumps in their wake as she deftly unhooked your bra, and you smiled to yourself. your plan was working. you may have been high, but you were well in control of your faculties that night. you knew that the time to make a move was upon you, and you wouldn't give up a shot with melissa schemmenti for anything.

confidently, you spun around to face melissa, now completely bare from the waist up. you giggled when you saw her averting her eyes politely. melissa schemmenti, flustered? you never thought you'd see the day.

"what did you bring me to wear? anything good?" your questions forced melissa to meet your gaze and refocus. she knew what you were doing, and it was taking all of her strength to resist pouncing on you like a tiger.

to your pleasant surprise, melissa then tossed you a cherry red oversized tee with black text on both sides. the front read "abbott elementary field day 1999" with the school's mascot; the back had "ms. schemmenti" above a number, like a jersey.

the best part about the shirt? it was warm. melissa must have just taken it out of the dryer. you held the garment up to your chest, in part to preserve your modesty but also to get a sneaky breath of her scent. your heart felt warm and fuzzy, both due to the older woman's tenderness and the sentimentality behind this little piece of abbott history.

"'99 was a rough year for the kids. i called in a favor with my custom t-shirt guy and had those made for field day. my red team won," melissa said proudly.

you pulled the shirt over your head and let the warmth and comfort surround you. melissa gently helped guide the shirt over your arms, smiling when she saw you in her clothes. you looked good in the shirt. for a moment, she let herself fantasize that you were hers.

"mmm, feels so good," you purred in melissa's ear teasingly. you wanted her to snap so badly. "this skirt is killing me. i hope you don't mind..."

it's killing me too, melissa thought as she watched you pull the wet skirt down your legs and off. she felt no shame about devouring you with her eyes—how could she when you were standing right in front of her, bending over and enticing her as you stripped down to your (suspiciously damp) underwear?

"looks like the rain got your panties wet, too," melissa's voice was hushed, but sure. you turned around and let the red shirt fall to cover your ass. you stalked over to her with a sickly sweet smile and leaned in to whisper.

"not the rain, guess again," you never broke eye contact as you awaited her reply, daring her to make a move. melissa drew a sharp breath in.

"if you keep teasin' me, i won't be able to control myself," she almost growled the confession.

"what if i want you to lose control?"

melissa wasted no time. she reached out and cupped your face, then pulled you in roughly for a kiss. the first kiss was gentle, with her lips like pillows against your own and one of her hands migrating down your back. but it soon became clear that melissa was not interested in taking things slow. she had already waited too long for you.

her hands were all over you as she kissed you roughly, tasting every corner of your mouth. you gasped for air when melissa's hands found your ass and gave a hard squeeze. while you were distracted, she pushed you away from the fireplace and onto the couch. she looked ready to devour you whole as she joined you on the couch and descended on your body.

"so," she started, pausing to place several heated kisses on your neck, "you wanna tell me why your panties are wet?"

"i think you know," you breathed out, your shaky voice betraying your neediness.

"oh babygirl, i wanna hear you say it," she purred before latching on to your neck, marking you while she awaited your response.

"you're why. it's you," you confessed, hoping that would be enough to satisfy her.

"i'm gonna need specifics, hon. what about me makes you so wet?"

"i- um..."

"is it the way i touch you? when i feel you up on this couch, do you sit here drippin' down your thighs?"

you nodded profusely, eyes widening and cheeks heating up. she read you like a book. if you weren't so high and desperate, you would have been impressed. but all you could process was the incredible feeling of melissa's hands and mouth finally exploring you without restraint.

her hands slowly migrated upwards, caressing your torso and landing on your tits. she held them and squeezed, kneading the flesh eagerly. when her fingers suddenly moved to pinch your stiff nipples, you let out a pathetic squeal.

"that's a good girl, lettin' me play with you like this," she cooed.

you shuddered, goosebumps erupting on your skin at the praise. melissa, of course, noticed, and she pulled back to look at you with a sly grin on her face.

"found one button," she said, her green eyes sparkling with amusement and arousal. "let's see if i can find another."

her skilled fingers darted down to your panties, on a mission. she watched your face intently as she pressed her pointer finger firmly on your clit through the fabric. you gasped and squirmed, bucking up towards her finger.

"oooh, she likes that," melissa purred. she swiftly dipped inside your panties and began to rub soft circles on your clit. "do you touch yourself like this and pretend it's me? hmmm?"

you managed to choke out a "yes" between moans, and melissa seemed pleased.

"i bet you do. god, you're pretty like this," she mused, increasing the speed of her ministrations. she leaned down to your ear, wanting you to feel the heat of her breath as she worked you up. "you wanna keep wearin' my shirt while i fuck you? so you remember you're mine?"

you whimpered, feeling hot all over as you approached your high far too quickly. when your legs started to shake, melissa withdrew her fingers and sat up.

"lie back and spread your legs for me, pretty girl," she said gently, and you complied. she situated herself between your spread legs and leaned down to get a closer look at your pussy. she guided you to lift your hips, then pulled your panties off and stuffed them in her pocket. using two fingers to swipe through your folds, she spread your wetness around. "you're soaked, honey."

"please, mel. need you," you said, the words coming out as a keening whine. melissa didn't hesitate to give you what you craved. holding your legs open with her hands on your thighs, she dove in, licking through your slit with fervor.

her tongue trailed up to your clit, drawing quick circles around it. melissa seemed genuinely enamored with your pussy, aiming to taste every glistening inch. she alternated between playing with your clit, feeling it pulse and jump against her tongue with every stroke, and sucking on it.

when she felt you trembling again, she doubled down, wrapping her mouth around your clit and sucking on it like it was all she loved in the world. the heat in your lower belly burst and spread throughout your body, and you spasmed against melissa as you came.

while you were still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, melissa began to tease your entrance with two fingers. her tongue never let up as she thrust deep into you, earning her a strangled cry.

her fingers brushed sweet spots you didn't even know you had, reaching deeper than your own digits ever could. when she curled her fingers to press on your g-spot, you wailed. searching for something to anchor you, your right hand grasped melissa's and your left hand gripped the sheets.

"right there, baby? does that spot feel nice?" she teased, already knowing the answer. before long, your legs were shaking again, and melissa had to lean on you a bit to keep you still. "are you gonna come for me again? i know you're close angel, just let go."

so you did. and melissa was there by your side through every crest and valley, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand while she whispered sweet nothings.

"you did so well for me, hon. my beautiful, good girl..." her words were a whisper that echoed around you, keeping you calm after an intense high.

once your heartbeat started to slow, you opened your eyes and looked at melissa. she gave you a warm smile, her lips shiny with your arousal. overcome with feeling for the goddess in front of you, you sat up and surged forward. you captured her lips in a passionate kiss.

"so," melissa said, panting as she drew away. "wanna smoke another one?"

[fanta2y]

Nervous

hey guuuyyyyyysssssssss im here with another fic for you all ! i hope you enjoyyy :))

@archive-network (ooo whats this account hmmm??)

cw: none

word count: 2.2k

After joining Jujustu High as a late start first year. Getting acclimated to the new environment was easier than you thought. The people on the other hand…they threw you for a loop. 

Itadori was normal enough, a bit bubbly and preppy but could still be serious and caring. He was a sweetheart through and through. You two got along really well, considering your own social butterfly-like nature. Though no where near the extreme of Itadori’s. 

Kugisaki was a bit harder to crack, she was a tough nut. Hiding her affection’s with hard insults and shrill yells. It became almost nature for you both to argue about nonsensical things. During your first hangout together she had tried to make you hold all her bags, which you of course declined. 

This had you guys arguing for hours, ending it in a fit of laughter in the middle of the busy Tokyo sidewalk. After that day you both had grown considerably closer, and you found yourself spending many a nights holed up in her room talking gossip and bickering with eachother. 

Fushiguro on the other hand. At first, you were sure he didn’t like you. His never-ending scowls and cold, monotone voice. It was hard to really believe Itadori and Kugisaki when they told you that that was how he was with everyone, that it wasn’t anything specific to you. 

But out of the three, Fushiguro was the one you wanted to get close to the most. His handsome face, his dark hair, his broody demeanor. For whatever reason, it drew you in like moth to a flame.

You recognized the warmth that curled in your gut whenever he came to class a little late, a flush on his cheeks from rushing to the classroom. His hair slightly out of place, his hands quick to run through the soft locks in an attempt to tame them. 

The blush that would enflame your features when you two would get paired to train together. When you would get distracted staring at his face as the sweat dripped down his forehead, and his chest heaved with heavy breaths. His husky tone reprimanding your attention being else where, pinning you quickly on the mat beneath you both to prove his point. 

Images of him flashed through your head all of the time. You could never stop thinking about him, and it drove you mad. Especially because you had absolutely no outlet to all these pent up emotions. He would barely hold a conversation with you for more than 5 seconds, a quick hi and bye was all you got on a good day. 

He definitely wouldn’t speak to you outside of class, or hangout with you alone without it being some group outing that Itadori or Kugisaki had dragged him on. 

It made your heart clench at the thought that you two would just never be as close as he was with the others. That your feelings were ultimately one sided and you would just have to find a way to get over them sooner rather than later. Lest they consume any more of you. 

– 

Sitting criss cross on Kugisaki’s bed, flipping through a magazine she had sitting on her desk, while you wait for her to return to her dorm. 

You had texted her before hand about wanting to talk to her about something, of course it had to do with the dark-haired emo boy, and she had responded letting you know her door was unlocked and she would be back from the mission she was on soon. 

So here you were, attempting to pass the time while you waited for her to return. Your mind running a million miles a minute with all the information you had wanted to spill to her. Of course nothing had happened between you two, Fushiguro had been holed up in his room since he came back from a particularly rough mission. Probably sleeping off the ache in his bones, as most of them did. 

A sharp knock pulled you out of your thoughts, causing you to jerk up from your relaxed position. Confusion running through you, it couldn’t of been Kugisaki she had a key to her dorm and could easily just unlock the door. Itadori was out on a mission of his own and wasn’t set to return until tomorrow. 

Your heart beat spiked at the thought of who could be behind the door. 

Padding over on your socked feet, you unlocked the padlock on your side and swung it open. And, just like you expected, you're met with dark spikey hair and deep eyes. His eyes widen as he takes in seeing you, instead of the expected Kugisaki. 

“Oh…is Kugisaki not back yet?” His voice questioning, attempting to peer behind you to possibly catch a glimpse of her brown hair in the back. 

“No, sorry shes still on a mission. Im waiting for her to come back too.” You said, a blush quickly appearing on your cheeks. Going to awkwardly rub at the back of your neck. 

He stood their uncomfortably at the door for a few beats of silence, you still too stunned at the fact that he was in front of you currently to even attempt to think of any conversation starters. Also fully convinced that he's just going to walk away at any moment now without even a goodbye. 

“Did you want to maybe, wait with me?” You try at your luck, stepping back from the door to give him space to come inside. 

His eyes focused on yours for a few tense seconds. Before, without a word, he enters the room. 

Your nerves set alight in your body, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. Turning the tips of your ears a rosy shade. Silently, you shut the door behind you. Turning the lock, taking a deep breath before facing the scene before you. 

Fushiguro had made himself as comfortable as you think he could be in the presence of others. He sat, almost stiffly, in her desk chair. Fiddling with his fingers, he seemed strikingly out of place. His stiff shoulders and awkward demeanor. It created a fuzzy feeling within your chest, staring at him endearingly. Doing everything within your power to hold back a giggle from erupting past your throat. 

Your attempt was unsuccessful as a giggle slipped past your lips. His eyes shot up to yours, glaring at you. 

“What?” His tone was sharp, and it would’ve made you nervous in any other situation but the image of him awkwardly waiting for Kugisaki was still swimming behind your eyelids. 

“I’m sorry..” You managed past your fit of giggles, which only went on longer the longer he glared at you. “You just looked so…stiff. I’m not gonna bite ya know.” You said, wiping the tears that gathered under your eyes. 

With the sudden boost of confidence, you found yourself walking up to where he was sat in her chair. A smile still lingering on your lips from the giggles. When both of your eyes met eachother, you were sure you saw the hints of a smile within them. But that was quickly replaced with shock as you grabbed his arms and pulled him to sit on the bed with you. 

A noise of surprise escaped his throat as he was manhandled, too shocked to do anything to fight back against it. 

“See! Much more comfortable, don’t you think?” You weren’t going for an actual response, going to grab the magazine you were reading earlier. Finding yourself lying on your stomach, legs kicking idly behind you. While Fushiguro attempted to seem comfortable. 

Sneaking glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye made you want to loose yourself into a fit of giggles again. 

“Okay I can’t do this.” You sighed, trying to fight back the smile. This is the closest you’ve been with him alone since, ever really. You were trying to fight back the nerves that kept attempting to flutter out of your stomach. You desperately wanting things to not be awkward, but it seemed like he was going to make that a harder task that necessary. 

“You really don’t like people do you?” The ‘Me’ that floated in and out of the lines of your words was left unsaid, but with the slight widening of his eyes and the way they flickered to your face. You were sure you both heard it loud within the silence. 

He sighed, shifting himself onto the bed in a more lax sitting position. 

“You make me nervous.” 

The words left you staring at him dumbly, his eyes looking down at the bed sheepishly. His fingers fiddling with each other. 

Your mouth open and closed again, not unlike a fish out of water. Your brain shortcircuiting trying to come up with something, anything, to say in response to that. But you were drawing blanks. 

“I-...You-...HUH??” 

This time, you made him giggle. The back of his hand covering his smile as he chuckled at you. It made a dagger stab directly through your heart at the cuteness display infront of you. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” You playfully smacked his shoulder, which only proved to make his laughter worse. Not too soon after, you followed him. Giggles of your own, joining him in his laughing fit. 

You both laughed and laughed for what seemed like forever. The awkwardness of before long forgotten, so much so, you had almost forgotten what he had said that even led you both to this in the first place. 

Almost. 

Once the laughter had died down for the both of you, which was extremely difficult as it seemed every time you both made eye contact, one of you erupted into another fit. 

You took deep breaths, trying to regain yourself. You felt his eyes on you, and the heat of it all crept up again. Making itself known on the fat of your cheeks, and the tips of your ears. You avoided his gaze, not ready to really come to terms with whatever was about to happen. 

“Why do I…uhh make you nervous?” You stumbled through your words, the nerves fluttering up your throat. Making it feel increasingly difficult to speak. 

You had spent what felt like years dreaming of this moment. Where you would confess, or he would confess. And you would finally be able to talk to him without feeling like you were going to explode, or feeling like it was such a one-sided conversation. 

The need to know him ran so deep within your bones that by this point, it was apart of you. It became a key point in your personality long ago, almost since the first moment you laid eyes on him. You found yourself searching for him everywhere you went. 

And not just him physically, but in things. When you would see a dog charm at the shop you were looking through with Kugisaki, or when Itadori would take you to this ramen place you would think about how much Fushiguro would like the food here. Or when you would see dark hair walking down the street, and for a split second wonder if that's him. If fate had brought you both down the same street, at the same time. 

He cleared his throat, which pulled you from the deep entralls of your mind. You perked up, eyes darting all across his face. The blush that dusted his cheeks was an intense red color, it made you want to coo at him, but you refrained. Wanting to hear his answer. 

“You just do.” He said, a finality in his voice. But with the way his eyes were refusing to meet yours, and the blush that was still stubbornly apparent on his cheeks. It felt like just enough answer for you. 

It made your heart sing, you felt a smile tugging on your lips. 

“Aww Fushiguroooo.” You extended the vowels annoyingly, playfully playing it up just to get him to blush a little bit more. Throwing your arms around him, you nuzzled the side of his face. Your lips right up against his ear, you whispered. 

“You make me nervous too.” 

You felt him freeze under your arms, his whole body stiffening before relaxing again. His chest rumbling with a laugh, as he turned in your hold to face you. A small smile on his face, and you felt your heart swell for the nth time that night. 

He opened his mouth to say something, you more than ready to listen. When the door was slammed open and Kugisaki barged in. 

You both shoved eacother apart, hoping to create enough distance that wasn’t suspicious between you two. Immediately, your cheeks felt like they were going to catch fire with how hot they were. 

“Hel- woah. What happened in here?” Kugisaki asked, her eyes darting between you two. 

“Well you kn-.”

“Nothing.” His voice slightly shaky as he stood and went to leave without another word. 

Your mind racing, wasn’t he in here for something? You thought, but your thoughts were cut off as Kugisaki flops onto her bed. Narrowly missing you, her voice muffled. 

“You guys better not have fucked on my bed.”

authors note: heyyyyy i hope you guys enjoyyy ! i think i really like the way this turned out! and its my first fic, kinda, for megumi so hopefully i did him justice !! thank you guys for reading and for all the love!!

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

one day at a time

pair: Draco Malfoy x reader

summery: y/n(she/her) losses her mom in the battle of Hogwarts and Draco is there to help her get through the grief

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The Malfoy Manor was eerily quiet. The grandeur of the estate felt stifling, cold, and empty, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to leave. Her body ached from the battle, but her heart… her heart hurt more than she thought possible. The loss weighed heavy on her chest, suffocating her in waves of despair she couldn’t outrun.

Her mother was gone.That singular thought echoed over and over in her mind, each time making her feel like her very soul had shattered a little more. The battle was won, but victory had come at a price too high for Y/N to bear.

She sat curled up on the plush sofa in one of the Malfoy Manor’s countless rooms, knees drawn up to her chest as she stared at the flickering fire. The flames danced, casting shadows across the room that felt as empty as she did inside. Her body trembled, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming grief that consumed her.

The door creaked open softly behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She knew who it was. Draco had been keeping a quiet vigil over her since they arrived at the manor. He had hardly spoken since the battle, his own guilt and shame hanging over him like a storm cloud. But he never left her side for long, always finding a reason to be nearby, to make sure she wasn’t alone.

He approached quietly, his footsteps soft against the marble floor. The cushions dipped slightly as he sat beside her, his warmth brushing against her side. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I…” Draco’s voice was barely a whisper, hesitant, almost broken. He sounded so unsure, so unlike the confident boy she once knew. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and thick with emotion. Sorry. The word felt empty, hollow. But Y/N knew he meant it. He wasn’t just sorry for her loss—he was sorry for everything. For the war, for the choices he made, for the pain she was feeling.

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She had cried so much already. Her eyes were raw, her heart shattered, and still, the grief didn’t ease.

“I don’t…” Her voice cracked, and she hated how weak she sounded. “I don’t know how to do this without her, Draco.”

The confession broke something inside her, and the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. She buried her face in her hands, sobs wracking her body as the weight of her loss finally overtook her. Her mother had been her anchor, her rock, the one person who had always been there, no matter what. And now… now she was gone, ripped away by the war they had all been forced to fight.

She felt Draco shift beside her, and then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She resisted for only a moment before collapsing into his embrace, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his own emotions. “I’m here.”

His arms were tight around her, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, grounding her in a way nothing else could. For the first time in hours, she felt safe. Not happy, not whole, but safe.

Y/N curled into him, her head resting against his shoulder as his fingers threaded through her hair, soothing and gentle. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, a quiet, constant rhythm that lulled her from the edge of her grief, just for a moment.

“I wish I could take it away,” he murmured into her hair, his voice raw. “I wish I could make it hurt less.”

His words broke her all over again, but this time, there was something different—something softer. Draco was hurting too. He had lost so much, not just in the war, but long before. The choices he had made, the pressure of his family name, it had all cost him pieces of himself that he would never get back. And yet, here he was, holding her together when she was certain she would fall apart.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, his breath warm against her temple. “You’ll never be alone, Y/N. I promise.”

She lifted her head slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. They were stormy, filled with a depth of emotion she wasn’t used to seeing in Draco Malfoy. He had always been guarded, closed off, but here, in the quiet aftermath of war, his walls had crumbled. And what she saw beneath them was raw and real.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she searched his gaze, finding something in it that she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t pity. It was understanding. Empathy. And something else—something fragile and tender, like a thread connecting them, holding them together even as the world around them seemed to crumble.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky but sincere.

Draco’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that still lingered. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “I need you, too.”

His admission sent a warmth spreading through her chest, a flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness. She wasn’t the only one hurting. She wasn’t the only one lost.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, wrapped in each other’s arms, the silence between them heavy but comforting. Every now and then, Draco would murmur soft reassurances, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back. And slowly, ever so slowly, the ache in her chest began to ease—not gone, not healed, but less suffocating.

“I don’t know how to keep going,” Y/N admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in her words made her feel exposed, fragile.

Draco’s arms tightened around her, his lips brushing the top of her head. “One day at a time,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

And in that moment, Y/N believed him. Maybe they were both broken, both scarred by the war and the losses they had endured. But together, they could find a way to heal.

One day at a time.

[safereturn]

let me hold your hand (and dance around the flames)

Another Ember Island Players Fic Word Count: 1956 Zutara one-shot Read on ao3

Zuko is sure his shame will consume him, obliterate him, turn him to ashes and blow him away in the wind. The only evidence of his existence will be that awful play and the wake of destruction caused by his own implosion.

And yet, it pales in comparison to the anger flowing off the water bender walking beside him. Fearing retribution, he keeps his gaze steadily ahead, focusing on the trio walking in front of them. Sokka, Suki, and Toph chatter about their portrayal; Toph lets out a roar that sends Sokka yelping into Suki’s side. Suki laughs so hard she snorts and slaps Sokka’s back as his cheeks tinge red. 

Zuko bites back a snarky comment. It’s simply propaganda, the events told with the inevitable agenda of a Fire Nation playwright, but at least they were written as comic reliefs. 

They weren’t failures and traitors. 

As they approach his family’s old vacation home, Katara’s sandal gets caught in the transition of cobblestone to sand. She loses her balance, but just as Zuko reaches a steadying arm out toward her, she rights herself on her own. Aang huffs behind him. 

Not to mention the resentment radiating off the young Avatar. Aang all but limps toward the house like a wounded puppy, head tucked into his chest. 

Katara pulls away from the group and storms off toward shore, back stiff, fists tight. Zuko slows to a stop as he watches her. She marches on to the beach, right where the tide stops overlapping the sand, and slumps to the ground, knees to her chest. 

The rest of the group carries on into the house. Aang sends one last glare at Zuko, then runs up the stairs and slams the door behind him, rattling the frame and sending an explosion of sound that evacuates nearby cicada-crickets from the trees. 

Zuko feels his chest constrict at the thought of following them inside the house. He isn’t claustrophobic–years spent at sea on a Fire Navy cruiser in close quarters with his crew desensitized him to any fears of being too enclosed. But there was a sort of heat burning under his skin. He was restless and itchy. Like if he walked into that house, he would explode, bringing the walls down around him in a terrible blaze.

Zuko glances over to the silhouette of Katara sitting in the sand again, still hunched, gently swaying back and forth with the tide. He’d seen her move like this once before, flying high over the ocean on Appa, the rain coming down around them. 

After confronting her mother’s killer, Katara had been near catatonic. They’d walked away from the quaking old man, but the further they got, the more she had withdrawn. Zuko had helped her climb onto Appa’s back, and she collapsed onto the saddle and stared blankly ahead. She might have been crying, but the rain had cast everything in a haze. As if it were all a dream. And then, like a child being comforted by a mother, she rocked herself side to side. 

She hadn’t spoken to him until they landed back at camp, and Katara had thrown her arms around him and granted him forgiveness. He remembers the warmth of her body against his, it had spread through his chest and she gave him a gentle squeeze before letting him go.

Zuko decides he would rather drown at her hand than suffocate amongst childhood memories. He approaches her as one would approach an injured turtle duck, softly and with no sudden movements.

“Go to bed, Aang.” Katara’s words are thick, tinged with finality that left no room for argument. It doesn’t escape him how maternal she sounds, as if she were scolding a petulant child. 

“It’s me,” he says. Katara peeks at him over her shoulder, then looks out toward the ocean. “I can go further down the shore if you want to be alone,” he offers, “but I’d rather not be in the house right now.”

He watches her shoulders rise as she fills her lungs with a long breath. Then, slowly, she places a hand on the sand beside her and gives it a pat. 

“You can stay.” She sounds tired now, but her tone is softer than her previous chiding. 

He sits cross legged beside her, sitting a little closer than intended, his shoulder brushing against hers. Zuko’s nerves were raw, his fingers had been trembling since the end of the first act. The gentle warmth of Katara’s arm against his was like an anchor, grounding him, giving him something to brace against. She doesn’t acknowledge it, she simply sways into him, then back, her chin resting atop her knees. 

“I’m sorry about tonight,” Zuko says. “That wasn’t a good play.”

Katara raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t write the play, Zuko.”

“No.” He grabs a handful of sand, it’s clumpy and coarse, still damp. Zuko squeezes it in his hand, then lets it crumble between his fingers. He does it again. “I'm just– sorry. I’m sorry you had to relive that. Relive me.”

She’s examining him. Zuko doesn’t dare make eye contact, but his skin prickles at the heat of her gaze on his face. It travels down his arms, to his hands, until she’s watching the grains of sand trickle between his fingertips. 

Again, he feels too large. He waits for his skin to burst open. 

“That wasn’t you on that stage, Zuko.”

“It was all the things I’ve done. All the ways I’ve hurt people.” 

How much good would he have to do to counter balance all the bad? Terrorizing citizens for any knowledge about the Avatar, burning down villages…

The Catacombs under Ba Sing Se.

The look of terror on Katara’s face, the smell of burning flesh, the cry that tore itself from her lips as she fought to get to Aang, fought to get them to the surface, fought against Azula, fought against him.

The look of anguish on Uncle’s face as he fought to keep Aang and Katara safe. 

Zuko chokes on a shuddering breath. His skin burns, his chest burns, his eyes burn.

“I’ve hurt so many people.”

So much blood.

Katara grasps his hand, grains of sand gently chafing against skin as she twines their fingers together. “Stop,” she whispers. “That was not you on that stage.”

His mind stutters, trying to pull himself from the memories. Katara squeezes his hand once and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. Back and forth. He sucks in a breath, then lets it whoosh out of his lungs. The tension in his shoulders drops. 

“You have done more than enough, Zuko.”

Enough. 

If there is wetness on his cheeks, Katara doesn’t mention it. She simply keeps rubbing soothing circles in his skin with her thumb. They watch the waves crash over the horizon.

 “Maybe I should apologize to Aang,” Zuko says, thinking of Aang’s glare. 

He can feel her deflate next to him, slumping into herself. Katara presses her face into her knees and heaves a sigh.

“He’s not angry with you,” she mumbles.  

“You didn’t see the look he gave me.”

Katara shakes her head and with a shrug says, “He’s angry with me. We had a fight at intermission.”

“What could he possibly be mad at you for?” Zuko saw the way Aang looked at Katara. He worshiped the ground she walked on, what could she have done that was so bad? And why would Aang take it out on him?

“It’s complicated.”

Zuko huffs. It’s not quite a laugh. “Try me.”

Katara gives him an uncertain look, then turns her gaze back to the ocean. Just when Zuko thinks she’ll ignore him, her voice breaks over the sound of the waves.

“Aang had… a hard time distinguishing between the play and reality. Ever since we met we’ve been really close. For months it was just me, Sokka, and Aang. And then Toph joined and it was the four of us. I always trusted them with my life, but it felt like Aang was on my side when Sokka and Toph pushed me too hard. He helped me through some pretty bad things, and I helped him, too.

“I found him in an iceberg, so I was possessive , I guess. He was going to save the world. My world. And I would have done anything–” Karata’s voice cuts off, followed by a frenetic breath. The waves wash higher on the shore, in time with her quick breaths. The water sweeps against their feet.

“I would have done anything to make him happy. He’s my best friend and of course I love him, but what he wants...” Katara heaves a shuddering breath. And then another. Her next words come quickly, garbled. “It’s too much. I’m trying to win a war, and so is he! But I can’t–I feel like I can’t even breathe.”

And then Katara makes an awful sound, a low whine cut off by a choked gasp. And then, even worse, she’s apologizing .

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, pulling her hand from his and swiping under her eyes. “This is stupid, just like that ridiculous actress.” Her hands leave behind grains of white sand on her cheeks. 

And for the first time, Katara looks defeated. Not even nine months ago, in a much colder continent, with her family's lives at stake and only a water whip to protect them did she look so small. She had built herself up with fury, indignation. She made up for what she didn’t know in determination. 

Now, with her eyes squeezed shut and shoulders hunched, there was nothing she could fight to make this hurt go away.

Zuko is at a loss for how to comfort her, and he hates himself for it. She so effortlessly brought him from the edge of panic. Forgave him when he was the face of everything that was taken from her. 

He thinks of her arms thrown around his neck. Her thumb brushing circles into his hand.  

And he does what he should’ve done when Katara sat numbly in Appa’s saddle. Zuko pulls Katara into his side, tucks her head into his shoulder, and hugs her. He winds his arms around her back, and sways her gently, his chin tucked over top of her head. Katara lets out a whimper, and then her arms circle around his waist. She buries her face into the crook where Zuko’s neck meets his shoulder. 

For a moment, all there is is the roar of the waves and his stiffness. He doesn’t want to jostle her, spook her. But her fists clench handfuls of his shirt and she is shaking, chest heaving with silent sobs. 

Zuko thinks of his mother and turtle duck bites and cries met with warm arms and soothing whispers. And he sways her, side to side, soothing a hand down her hair. She smells of sea salt and the old bath oils left in the wet room.

“Okay,” he says into her hair, “okay.”

It’s not okay. Zuko knows what it’s like to collapse under the weight of expectation, knows what it’s like to choke on the disappointment of others, knows the taste of desperation. It had almost killed him, back in that apartment in Ba Sing Se. And when he’d made it back to the Fire Nation on the basis of Aang’s murder, there were times he wished the fever had taken him. 

So much pain.

“Nothing like the actress,” he says. There is wetness and sand and shuddering breaths against his neck. “You are strong, this is strength.”

Katara takes a deep breath. Then another.

The waves wash back out to the ocean and quiet to a lull.

“You’ve given more than enough."

[winchester-girl67]

Happy Hour

Summary: The reader returns home after a night at the club realizing she's taken something that she shouldn't have. Her neighbour, Dean, notices when she's practically locked out of her house and spends the night with her.

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Square: Quote B: @supernatural-jackles​ 6. "I dare you to kiss me." Neighbour AU @spnfluffbingo​

Word Count: 3,188

Warnings: drugged!reader, drugs, vomiting, implied/light smut, mature themes, kissing/cuddling, pining, language, mainly fluff, a little angst maybe

A/N: Don’t do drugs, this is pure fiction. Written for @spnfluffbingo​ and @supernatural-jackles​’ Tell Me a Story bingo.

_____

You felt everything, the beat of your heart pumping in your chest and ears and throat. The tiny hairs on your arms prickling with the goosebumps crawling over your skin. The artificial street lights stinging your wide eyes and tunnelling through your head. Your breath on your lips was heavy and quick. The throbbing need between your legs running through the veins in your thighs.

Fuck.

You shouldn't have taken that 'Aspirin' from your 'friend' at the club. This felt more like a high, like you were flying and couldn't come down. You didn't know what you took. It definitely wasn't Aspirin though.

Your skin misted over with sweat and there was no way you could hide your high. Not with the long Uber ride back to your house for it to take hold of you completely.

Fucking hell.

You paid the uber driver when he dropped you off. At least you thought you did because he drove away without a word and you stumbled up to your front door.

"Had a little much tonight?" Your nosy neighbour, Dean, asked from his front porch as you struggled to penetrate the lock with your key. You weren't holding a key you realized, or your purse and fished out the spare from the plant pot behind you. Trying again. "Here let me help." He jumped over the shared railing of your adjoined houses and slid his hand over yours.

Okay, maybe he wasn't nosy. He was interested, but you never gave him the time of day. For whatever reason you couldn't remember as you blinked up at him and leaned back against the door.

He chuckled and pressed his palm against your cheek. Your skin igniting in a searing flame hotter than an iron left in a fire pit. But it was an enjoyable heat. You closed your eyes, feeling all of him in that single touch.

Damn it, this was too intense.

You couldn't wrap your mind around any of it. Couldn't stop any of the feelings you were having. It was thrilling but scary.

"Y/N," he sounded far away, "I can't open the door with you leaning on it."

"Hmm," you hummed, not hearing him and pressing your cheek further into his palm.

The heat of his body consumed you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to lean on him instead. Your eyes were still closed and you teased your bottom lip, pressing your face into his neck and holding onto his shoulders for support.

You heard your door creak open on rusted hinges and Dean walked you inside. You couldn't let go. Your skin was on fire and you felt too much of him. You felt dizzy.

"Y/N," he murmured against your ear. His thick breath filled the shell of it and you moaned. Out loud. He chuckled. "I'm flattered but you are wasted. Holy shit, sweetheart, how much did you drink?"

"I don't feel so good," you said, hiding your face in his scruff and swallowing down the bile that started to rise.

"Bathroom?" He asked.

You nodded and he lifted you into his arms.

Your legs locked around his waist causing a whole new sensation for you to be aware of. It felt good at first, but this was too much now. Your mind clouded and you clung to him tighter with a whimper. Your pulse pounding through every inch of you.

Dean grunted when you pulled his hair and you mumbled out a 'Sorry'. Your muscles shook and you were seconds from vomiting all over his back.

He dropped you to your feet and you spun around, landing on your knees in front of the toilet. Emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

You groaned following your second wave of sickness, Dean brushing your hair from your face and wiping you down with a wet cloth. You welcomed the coolness and started to feel a little better.

Then the shivers started and Dean sat behind you, holding your hair and rubbing your back. It should've felt nice, but it made your stomach roll and you leaned back into him to make the motion of his hand stop.

He wrapped his arms around you instead, "You took something didn't you?"

"I think so."

"I feel like I should bring you to the hospital."

"I'm fine, it's passing. I think I threw up some of it." You wiped your mouth with your hand and wiped your hand on the skirt of your dress.

Your mouth tasted gross coated in bile and you knew you smelled. There were chunks of nachos in your hair. Dean hadn't been able to get it all out with the washcloth.

He rested his chin on your head, "I'm worried about you."

"You worry too much." You breathed, just happy to be still with him for the moment.

Your nerve endings were all on high alert and you felt oversensitive in every way.

You felt him sigh into your hair, "You live alone and you don't ever let me help you with anything. But you're always so sweet and I'd feel bad if something happened to you because you were alone. You need someone right now, please don't push me away. If only just this once."

You didn't answer. You lifted your hands to weakly grip his forearms that rested around your waist. A way letting him know he could stay. He sighed again and squeezed you just a fraction tighter.

When it was clear you were done vomiting, you brushed your teeth. Twice. And rinsed with Listerine.

You looked in the mirror with Dean standing behind you, ready to catch you if your knees gave out. Your pupils were blown wide, all the Y/E/C colour lost on the edges. No wonder your eyes hurt in the light.

Your eyes teared and you played with your crusty hair, "I need a shower." You turned around when Dean shook his head.

"You can barely stand on your own, I don't trust you not to fall."

You wanted a shower still and stared at the glass stall, then him. If he was afraid you'd fall then he'd just have to join you. You lifted your dress over your head and dropped it to the ground. Every exposed inch of Dean turned rosy and he dropped his gaze to your breasts for a split second before he caught himself.

"Fuck." He palmed his mouth, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "Please, don't take off anymore. This is hard enough."

You still had your plain underwear and bra on but the way he reacted was as if you were already bare in front of him. You wanted to laugh but your stomach muscles hurt too much to. You took a shaky step forward and lifted his black t-shirt at the hem, working it up his stomach until he took the hint and stripped it off, piling it with your dress on the floor. You reached for his belt buckle next, a little surprised at yourself for the boldness and the fact you'd never seen him this way before, but you knew the drugs were still in your system.

Dean caught your hands and pushed them away. You frowned in disappointment. You wanted to feel him now that you were starting to feel good again. He stared into your eyes for a long second, then dropped his jeans, leaving him in his tightly fitted boxers.

He took your hands again and led you towards the shower, letting the spray heat up before stepping into it with you. You tilted your head back, wetting your hair and feeling the ends of each hair scratch down your back. It felt amazing and you let out a strangled moan, sucking your bottom lip at the end of your breath.

"Y/N, please don't make that sound." Dean said, squeezing your hands in his.

You met his gaze and pushed a hand past his and held his arm near his elbow. The muscles under his skin tensed and you let out a squeak, trying to hold back your noises for his benefit. Though, you thought you only made it worse.

You felt waves of pleasure mixed with waves of sickness over the slightest touch. But the highs were high and you wanted to touch him, taste him; his lips, his earlobes, his throat, his...

"I wanna see you," you pulled your hands free and tugged at his boxers.

You weren't thinking really. Acting purely on desire and impulse. Your nails digging into the wet material of his waistband.

"No." He wriggled away from you, but you persisted until he caught your hands again and pulled them to his chest. "You're high, Y/N, stop." 

His fingers felt like handcuffs around your wrists. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because, why?"

"Because I'm trying real hard to be a gentleman right now." He said, you flexed your fingers against the freckled skin of his chest.

Eyes trailing down the curve of his neck, watching the water droplets collect along his collarbone and run off. All thought left your mind and you leaned forward attaching your lips to the curve of it, nipping lightly and trailing up his neck. Feeling his pulse deepen against your delicate flesh. You heard a frustrated groan but you weren't sure which of you it came from.

Dean took your shoulders in his hands and pushed you away to look into your eyes, "That can wait." His voice was deep and thick. You pouted your lip and he kissed your forehead hard. Then added, "Just not tonight, okay? I don't want you to think I took advantage of you in the morning. Now, turn around."

You turned in his hold so you faced the spout of the shower and felt Dean's fingers in your hair. He dragged the strands away from your face and underneath the spray. You turned up the heat of the water until you could feel it in the bones of your toes and your veins glowed bright red against your skin.

"I think you're hot enough," Dean reached in front of you to turn down the heat but you dragged his hand back and laid it flush against your stomach instead. "Let me take care of you."

You let him pull his hand back, feeling it linger on your hip. Maybe the water was too hot. You didn't adjust it though.

Then his fingers were in your hair again, massaging honey and cucumber scented shampoo into your scalp and you closed your eyes. The air around you was so thick with steam that you felt it heavy in your lungs. You started to feel dizzy again in the heat and braced yourself against the wall. The sleek tile against your cheek cooled you down slightly as his nails gently scratched behind your ears and down your neck and then back up again.

He took the nozzle of the shower hose and rinsed out your hair. Repeating the process with some conditioner until the strands slipped through his fingers with ease. You would've fallen asleep had your senses not been in overdrive. Every touch made you want him more and you bit your cheek until you tasted copper and whimpered.

The water shut off and you opened your eyes. Dean wrapping the largest towel you owned around your shoulders and directing you out of the stall. He grabbed a towel off the back of the door for himself and wrapped it around his hips before shimmying out of his wet boxers. He rang them out and tossed them over the door of the shower to dry.

You tried to do the same but your movements weren't as elegant and the towel slipped before Dean caught it, blushing hard. He held it up for you as you removed your bra and panties, tossing them haphazardly to the shower floor.

You hadn't noticed that you were standing in front of the mirror until you grabbed the towel back from Dean. His eyes sunk down from the ceiling when you wrapped the soft material around yourself feeling a little too high to be embarrassed by the show he most likely got. Since the fog on the mirror let up quicker than it took you to change.

Lucky him.

Your eyes fell down his bare chest, water droplets still clinging to his skin as you chewed on your lip again. It was blatantly obvious what you were thinking and Dean seemed to shift uncomfortably when you wet your lips.

He cleared his throat and you met his gaze, "Stop looking at me like that."

"Hm, like what?" Your gaze fell again.

"Like that! Like I'm a piece of meat."

"I seem to remember you looking at me a lot like that." You said, winking at him playfully. "Like when I come home from the gym in my purple leggings."

"That's different."

"How?"

"I don't know, it just is."

"Why?"

"Because, it is."

"Because it is, why?"

"I'm not doing this with you again, Y/N." He sighed and breathed into his palm, rubbing the scruff on his chin. "It's just different."

"That's a double standard." You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring up at him.

"One I enjoy immensely," he smirked and mirrored your flirty wink.

You pouted, "But it's not fair. You have a nice body, why can't I notice, too?"

"You're right," he sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders, "Do me a favour though, don't notice until you're sober."

"Why?" You asked again but he didn't answer like you thought he would this time.

He just chuckled and pulled you into his chest, "Let's get you to bed, Y/N. Walk this way."

He twirled you around and shuffled behind you as he directed you towards the bedroom. The layout of his house mirrored yours so you weren't surprised when he found your room on the first try when he pushed one of the doors open.

"But I'm not sleepy," you whined and twirled back around when Dean nudged you towards the bed.

He sighed again, "What if I lay down with you for a while? Could you try to sleep it off then?"

"Yeah," you beamed and nodded, throwing back the comforters to crawl into the bed.

You didn't think you could spend the night in that big bed alone. Not tonight, not the way you were feeling. You felt like an open sore, achy and oozing. Even if Dean didn't want to be intimate until you were sober enough to remember the night you'd have with him, at least he could hold your pieces together and keep you from falling apart completely.

You squirmed until he slipped into bed next to you and you were able to curl into his side and cling to him. Your skin heated uncomfortably though, so you wiggled out of your towel and threw it across the room. You heard Dean huff out a nervous laugh as you cuddled into him again and pressed your face into his flushed neck. Your bare chest pressed to his and you felt a tingle rush through the sensitive peaks of flesh meeting his.

You might've made a small noise of contentment, but you couldn't hear past your own ears. You sighed, feeling Dean swallow and catch your wandering hand against his lower stomach. He held your palm over his heart instead and the heavy thump, thump of it lulled you to sleep. Near sleep at least, as you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent.

"You're not gonna leave, right? Like I'm not gonna wake up in the middle of the night and you won't be here?" You asked, your skin humming against his.

"I'll be here when you wake up, sweetheart," he promised, his voice deep and husky again like he'd just woken up. "I'll even make you breakfast."

"No way! Like pancakes and bacon and eggs and-"

"Yes," Dean chuckled, "Whatever you want, I'll make it for you. Just sleep now, and no funny business." He squeezed your palm in his as if he wasn't the only one aware that only a thin piece of damp material separated the two of you, "I mean it, Y/N."

You giggled and laced your fingers together. Happy with the buzz stemming from the pulse in your fingertips syncing with his. That's what it felt like, your hearts beating to the same drum. You wondered if he felt it too, or if it was just another side effect of the drug.

"Dean. I dare you to kiss me."

You pulled your face from his neck and tilted your head up to him. He looked at you for a moment and smirked, the smile reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners. He leaned in close and cupped your cheek with both your hands still entwined. Then kissed you on the forehead and chuckled when you sulked.

"Dare me tomorrow." He said, releasing your hand to tug the comforters over your shoulders.

You relented and placed your palm back over his heart, allowing the thump to pull you asleep this time. Letting the drugs finally wear thin as you slept them off. All night. And waking in the morning in the same position with Dean's hand on your waist and a tired fog clouding your mind. His thumb aimlessly brushing back and forth over your skin.

"How long have you been awake?" You asked as the events from the night before started to replay in your mind. This time with a new level of embarrassment creeping into your cheeks. "I'm not wearing any pyjamas, am I?"

"Nope." He said, checking your pupils in the morning sunlight streaming through breaks in the curtains. Seemingly satisfied, he smirked. "Still dare me?"

It only took a second for your cheeks to burn and you realized that line you'd drawn with him when you first moved in a year ago needed to be reevaluated. "Yeah."

Dean's hand left your waist and he lifted your chin with a finger. He dipped his head at an angle and fit his lips perfectly over yours. Kissing you with the weight of a feather for only a second.

You almost missed it, "I dare you to kiss me like I know you want to." You said.

He smiled as his fingers trailed up your jaw and tangled in the hair on the nape of your neck. He brushed his lips against yours teasingly and chuckled before he smashed his mouth to yours. Sucking the breath straight from your lungs until they burned in a way that wasn't displeasing. He pulled away, then ducked back in for another kiss and then another one. Kissing you so many times that you felt high all over again. A better type of high this time though. A natural high.

Your lips chilled without the warmth of his mouth when he finally pulled away. 

"Dare me to try again?" He asked and you bit your lip as you nodded. Dean kissed you breathless once more before he remembered, "I promised you breakfast, didn't I?"

_________________________

A/N: Read part 2 here

_________________________ 
 Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​ @laycblack​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @crustycheeks​ @kazsrm67​ @sexyvixen7​ @lyarr24​ @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99​ @yvonneeeee​

Forever SPN: @hobby27​

Tell Me a Story Bingo: @princessvader15​ 

[lendeah]

UNBOUND

Chapter 3: memories, premonitions

series masterlist

Summary: Neri continues to face the complexities of her combined spell, prompting her to once again seek assistance from Gale. In the process, her mentor opens up about the grim reality of his condition, revealing that their time together may be more constrained than Neri had anticipated.

Pairing: Gale x OFC!Reader

Tags: Slow Burn, Mentor/Protégé, but everything is healthy I promise, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Soft Gale (Baldur's Gate), Gale Needs a Hug (Baldur's Gate), Professor Gale (Baldur's Gate)

Word count: 5.9k

AO3 LINK

Oof this one was long. Anyway, it's not proofread so it may contain mistakes! I will try to revise as soon as possible. Hope you enjoy :)

The darkness was all encompassing, the threads of magic tugging at her from every direction. The air was thick with bursts of energy, swirling and dancing around her like moths drawn to a flame. Her concentration remained fixed on one singular object in her mind, its form and power consuming her thoughts. She could feel its pull, its call to her own magical abilities. With determination and focus, she reached out and whispered the incantation, "Quaerere obiectum cum porta" as she gestured with her hands the different symbols.

As Neri opened her eyes, the room was silent. She could sense the powerful flow of her weave energy as it manifested in front of her. A dimensional door had materialized, pulsing with vibrant purple hues. With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Neri stepped forward and placed all her faith in this creation of hers. The feeling of being transported through dimensions was disorienting and nauseating, but soon enough she landed on solid ground once again.

She looked around at her new surroundings, taking in the empty tabern with its wooden furnishings and dimly lit lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The only source of noise came from a gnome bartender who was wiping down glasses behind the counter, and two other patrons - an orc and a human woman - sitting at opposite ends of the room. The three of them were looking at her with shocked expressions, their jaws dropped in disbelief.

"By Odin's beard, 'tis high time I lay off the ale," the orc muttered, breaking the silence.

Neri couldn't help but grimace. "My apologies," she said, feeling embarrassed. "It seems like I ended up in the wrong place."

After a small curtsy, she retreated back into the swirling portal and landed with a thump on her bedroom floor once more. Letting out a sigh, she began the process of closing yet another unsuccessful interdimensional door.

"Where was it this time? A Duke's mansion? The middle of the sea? The astral plane, maybe?"

Eiruk's voice interrupted her thoughts. Neri looked up to see him sitting on her bed, tossing the small planet-shaped crystal between his hands.

With a grunt, she brushed off her robes and grumbled "A tabern."

The boy's laughter resembled that of a hyena's as he responded,

"Wait, really?! That's hilarious. Maybe I should be trying this portal spell too. It would definitely make sneaking out much easier."

Eiruk's comment earned an eye roll from Neri as she took a seat on her bed next to him. She was still disappointed about their failed attempt at finding the crystal that he now held in his hand.

"It's not funny," she pouted. "I really thought I had it this time. Where were you, anyway?"

He simply shrugged. "I was holding it in my bedroom. I came to check when I felt the disturbance in the weave."

Neri rested her head on her hand, her gaze fixed on the ball in Eiruk's grasp. "I can't believe I can't even locate this object in the neighboring room," she muttered to herself. "How in the nine hells am I supposed to find three stones that could be hidden anywhere along the Crionthar?!"

He chuckled and tossed the crystal back to her. "Well, as much as I enjoy watching you fling yourself into different dimensions, I think it's time we take a breather."

She let out a frustrated groan. It was true, she had been searching for that cursed piece of crystal all over the academy for the entire day, simulating it was a Netherese stone, and trying to open a safe passage to it.

However, all her efforts had only resulted in opening gates nowhere near it. Hells, the doors hadn't even lead inside the tower.

"I can't stop now," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I need to make this work. I have to."

Eiruk looked up at her with concern in his eyes. "You've been obsessing over this for days now," he said softly, "why is it that important anyway? You have a whole year to finish the research."

No, I only have three months, she thought to herself, but instead Neri avoided Eiruk's gaze, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from him. She couldn't risk involving him in her family matters, especially when he was already dealing with so much helping with the recovery of the Academy and his own research project.

"It's... complicated," she finally said, not meeting his eyes.

Eiruk's expression turned understanding and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "I won't pry," he said softly. "But just know that I'm here for you if you ever need to talk."

Neri felt her heart clenching with guilt at his words. She mustered up a smile and responded, "Thank you for understanding."

He grinned, reaching for her hand. "I'll be there, no doubt about it," he said before smirking. "But don't think you can use emotional talks to get out of going to the city with me tonight."

She let out a frustrated groan. "I really can't..."

But Eiruk stood his ground. "Consider it my payment for helping you throughout the day," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite her efforts to resist, she couldn't help but chuckle at his determination.

"Okay, but we have to be back before the sun sets. And please don't try to charm any gnomes this time. I can't afford to get kicked out of another place."

Eiruk stood with a jump and extended a hand to her. "It's a deal," he said with a grin.

She took it and pulled herself off the bed, her muscles protesting from the day's exertion. She had been so focused on her magical training that she'd forgotten about the physical toll its continuous usage could take.

As Neri and Eiruk made their way through the halls of the academy, Neri couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and excitement at the thought of taking a break from her research. Eiruk's cheerful chatter about how they never did anything fun only added to her growing anticipation.

They soon reached Corlin's room and found him hunched over a pile of scrolls on his desk.

"Corlin!" Eiruk exclaimed, startling the blonde out of his concentration.

Corlin looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What is it? Did you get into another mess, Eiruk?" he asked, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"Ugh, always thinking the worst of me Cor! No, we're going out for some fun tonight," Eiruk said with a grin.

Corlin stared at her for a moment before breaking into a rare smile. "Did you agree to this, Neri?"

She nodded, smiling back at him. "I could use a break from all this research and magic," she said.

Corlin's smile widened. "Then count me in."

The trio made their way out of the academy sneaking into the bustling streets of Waterdeep. If Vanja knew of their whereabouts she would no doubt be pissed at them for not getting enough rest to be centered in their resposabilities, but she had never caught them before. As they made their way out of the academy and onto the bustling streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. It had been so long since she'd been out for fun in the city, let alone at night.

Eiruk led the way, his footsteps light and confident as he weaved through the crowds. Corlin followed close behind, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings for any potential dangers.

Neri stuck close to her friends, taking in all the sights and sounds around them. The smell of sizzling street food filled her nostrils, and she could hear the lively chatter of merchants and patrons alike. Lanterns hung overhead, casting a warm glow over everything.

As they made their way deeper into the city and into the North Ward, Eiruk suddenly stopped in front of a tavern with a boisterous sign that read "The Grinning Lion."

"This is it!" Eiruk exclaimed, looking back at Neri and Corlin with a grin.

Corlin raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Are you sure this is where we want to spend our evening? Only boring young nobles frequent this place."

Eiruk scoffed. "Come on, Cor! Don't judge a book by its cover. The Grinning Lion is one of the most lively and entertaining places in all of Waterdeep."

"I'm not one for lively and entertaining," Corlin muttered, but he followed Eiruk and Neri inside nonetheless. The interior of the tavern was just as lively as its exterior. The air was thick with the smell of ale and sweat, and the sound of raucous laughter filled Neri's ears.

Eiruk led them to a table in the corner where they could see everything going on without being too conspicuous.

"Let's start with some drinks," Eiruk said, moving over to the bar to order.

As they waited for their drinks, Neri took a moment to observe Corlin. He looked brighter than usual, his blue eyes glittering with excitement. She couldn't help but smile at the thought of how much he had grown since they first met.

Back then, he was barely a teenager – all lanky limbs and a mess of golden locks covering his eyes. But now, as she watched him scan the room with a sense of wonder and curiosity, she saw a handsome young wizard, full of potential and promise.

"Hey, stop staring," Corlin said with a smirk as he caught her looking at him.

Neri rolled her eyes. "I can't help it. You are so grown up, Cor."

Corlin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm not that different, Neri. Just a bit taller," he murmured.

"Oh, Corlin, you have no idea," Eiruk said as he placed three tankards of ale on the table. "You should see how much she used to mother you when we were growing up."

Neri glared at Eiruk playfully before taking a sip of her ale. It was bitter and strong, but she enjoyed the warmth it brought to her body. They laughed and clinked their mugs together, their drinks sloshing onto the wooden table. Everyone around them was caught in their own world of joy and laughter, it felt so liberating to be just one amongst the crowd, unnoticed and unburdened.

Eiruk was in full form tonight, delighting them with his amusing anecdotes and witty remarks. Corlin listened attentively, laughing heartily at Eiruk's recounting of an incident where he accidentally turned himself into a sheep during his first year at Blackstaff Academy. Neri watched them both, suddenly overcome with affection for the two who had become her family in all but blood.

Neri's laughter ceased abruptly as a sharp chill ricocheted down her spine. She spun around in her seat, scanning the bustling crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar face - her father's. Her heart pounded in her chest as their gazes locked, and she didn't know whether to run or stay frozen in place.

Panic set in, and she quickly turned back to Eiruk and Corlin.

"We have to go," Neri said urgently, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eiruk looked at her in confusion, clearly a little tipsy. "What's wrong?"

Neri didn't want to cause a scene, but she knew they needed to leave before it was too late. "My father is here," she said, her voice trembling.

Corlin's expression turned serious as he glanced around the room. "Shit. Don't worry, we can-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Neri's father had already made his way to their table.

Her father's tone was disapproving and frigid as he asked, "So this is how you choose to neglect your responsibilities?"

Neri felt a tight knot form in her stomach as she stood up to face him, Eiruk and Corlin following suit. She couldn't believe this was the first time he was adressing her in months.

"Father, I...I just wanted to have a night out with my friends," she tried to reason, but her father's stern expression didn't waver.

Arsten Thunderstaff glanced back and forth between her and her friends, a disapproving look on his face. "You have responsibilities to attend to, Neri," he scolded. "And it doesn't involve indulging in drinks and wasting your time with these...commoners. That's not why we allowed you to attend Blackstaff Academy."

Eiruk bristled at the insult while Corlin stepped forward, ready to defend Neri. But she placed a hand on his arm, silently pleading for them to not make the situation worse.

"Father, they're my friends," she said firmly. "And I don't see why I can't spend my free time with them."

Her father's gaze hardened once again, "

"Your leisure time should be devoted to preparing for your future role in our esteemed wizarding family, as that is more important than anything else. You are a valued member of one of the most respected families in all of Waterdeep, Neriyra," he reminded her sternly.

"I know that," Neri replied through gritted teeth, struggling to keep her composure, "you remind me of it every damned day."

"Then start acting like it," Arsten said firmly before turning on his heel and walking away.

Neri stood frozen, watching her father getting out of the busy tavern. She took a deep breath, trying to push down the anger and frustration that was bubbling inside her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly to her friends, feeling guilty for ruining their night out.

Eiruk put a comforting hand on her shoulder, while Corlin spoke up in indignation.

"He has no right to speak to you like that. Or us, for that matter."

Neri forced a smile at her friends, grateful for their support. "It's alright," she said, though it was anything but. "Let's just...finish our drinks and go."

Eiruk and Corlin both nodded, worry evident on their faces. As they left the tavern and made their way through the crowded streets of Waterdeep, Neri couldn't help but feel the weight of her father's words bearing down on her. Eventually, they reached the entrance to Blackstaff tower and Neri let out a sigh of relief. The familiar stone walls provided some comfort amidst the chaos of the night; this was her true home, after all.

"I need to take care of some business before going back. You'll be alright now?" Eiruk asked, still clearly worried.

"I'll be fine," Neri reassured him with a small smile. "Thank you for coming tonight. It was fun."

"Yeah, we should repeat soon," Eiruk replied with a small smile before heading off towards the dark hallways.

Corlin lingered at Neri's side, his gaze filled with concern. "I will walk you to your bedroom," he said softly.

Neri nodded gratefully, leaning on her friend for support as they made their way through the familiar corridors of Blackstaff tower. She couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and anger that still lingered from her encounter with her father.

Corlin hesitated before speaking up again.

"You know, Neri, I never understood why your father is so hard on you," he said softly as they walked through the quiet hallways of Blackstaff tower.

Neri sighed, her thoughts still consumed by her argument with Arsten. "It's just how he is," she replied with a shrug.

"But it's not fair. You have more magical talent in your pinky finger than most wizards have in their entire body," Corlin insisted, his frustration evident in his voice.

Neri smiled weakly at her friend's words. Corlin was always quick to defend her and boost her confidence when she needed it most. "Thank you, Corlin," she said sincerely. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to her in that moment. She had always felt like an outcast among her own family, but Corlin and Eiruk had never made her feel that way.

His voice trembled as they reached Neri's room. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, and finally whispered, "You know," he started, unable to meet her gaze, "you don't have to face this alone. I... we'll always be here for you."

His words brought a lump to Neri's throat. She nodded mutely, finding herself momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.

The younger boy took a step and grabbed her into his arms, and she took the moment to hug him tightly. He felt warm and solid, a rock she could grab into, even on the darkest moments. Neri closed her eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of wood smoke, lavender, and the earthy smell of books, a comforting aroma that enveloped her like an embrace.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other and Neri gave Corlin a small smile. "I think I'm going to turn in for the night."

Corlin nodded understandingly. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

Neri gave him a grateful nod before entering her room and closing the door behind her.

The next evening, Neri found herself once again entering Gale's studio with a stack of scrolls perched precariously on her arms. Despite her determination to figure out the combination spell on her own, she couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat as she approached her mentor.

"I'm sorry," she began, interrupting Gale's work yet again. "I know I am interrupting over and over, but I can't seem to find the right way to locate the object while also evaluating the surroundings to create a successful gate. I don't know what else to do." She let out a frustrated sigh as she dropped all her belongings gingerly on a nearby table.

"My dear Neri, you are like a reflection of myself. Yes, as a young man I too thirsted for knowledge like a parched wanderer in the desert." He said wistfully from somewhere inside the room.

Neri let out a small chuckle at Gale's dramatic statement. She scanned the place looking for her mentor. "Why do you speak as if you were fifty? You are still young!"

"I have spent many years studying and honing my magical abilities, giving me a unique perspective on life," Gale replied as he emerged from behind a pile of papers.

Neri grinned, and then was taken aback by the sight of him looking... revitalized. His skin had some color back, and he appeared refreshed with clean clothes and hair falling in soft waves around his face and shoulders. She felt her cheeks flush slightly at the sight of him.

"You look much better." She blurted. What? Why did she say that?

Gale chuckled, running a hand through his now clean hair, and looked to be blushing a little. "I have been known to clean up nicely when I put my mind to it. A good night's rest or two also does wonders," his eyes posed on her, "you look like you need it yourself."

A rosy flush spread across Neri's cheeks as Gale's words hit her, but she made a conscious effort to keep looking directly into his eyes. Despite the awkwardness, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that the wizard seemed to be doing better.

Clearing her throat, she gestured towards the scrolls on the table, "Well, the lack of sleep means I have been able to dig on the combination spell, and as I said, I'm still struggling with it and was hoping you could offer some insights. Do you think it could be the incantation causing issues? Or perhaps my mental state isn't properly centered?"

Gale smiled, gesturing for Neri to sit down at the soft orange sofa with him. "Let's take a look at what you have so far."

Neri quickly made her way next to the wizard and spread out her scrolls and notes in front of them. Gale studied them intently, muttering under his breath every now and then. After a few minutes, he leaned back with a thoughtful expression.

"I think I can see where you are struggling," he said. "You are on the right track with the combination spell, but I think you may be overcomplicating it."

Neri furrowed her brows, "What do you mean?"

Gale went on, "To successfully find and create a dimensional door, precision and focus are crucial. But attempting to combine it with another spell, like location, is splitting that concentration. Perhaps the solution is to view it as one cohesive conjuration instead of two separate ones."

"That's a great suggestion," she said eagerly. "But how would I go about approaching it as one conjuration instead of two?"

Gale smiled, "Think of it like this - when you combine ingredients to make a potion, you don't mix them separately and then pour them together. You add them all at once and let them blend into one cohesive mixture."

Neri nodded, "So I just need to find a way to seamlessly merge the two spells together during the incantation instead of focusing so much on them independently?"

"Exactly," Gale confirmed. "It may take some trial and error, but I believe that is the key to successfully casting this combination spell."

"I see..." Neri thought to herself, taking a moment to process Gale's words. "But why don't you do it yourself then? It seems like you could do it much faster and easier than I am."

He seemed lost in thought for a moment before finally meeting her gaze with a small smile.

"I am afraid my condition makes me too frail to conjure any complex spells."

Neri could sense a hint of sadness in his voice and she immediately regretted her words. She wanted to ask him more about the condition, but she barely knew him, and felt like it might come off as a little intruding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I just worry that it will take too much time for me to perfect it on my own. We are running out of time, after all..." She sighed sadly. It's not that she thought she lacked the skills; but mastering it would probably require several months of learning and practicing. And that wasn't even counting the time it would take to find the stones.

After pondering for a few seconds, Gale spoke up again. "You are right. Perhaps we could utilize my limited weaving abilities to guide you through the process?"

Neri's eyes widened with excitement.

"You mean we can combine both our spells into one? I never even thought that was a possibility."

Gale nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could cast the locate spell and guide you through opening the dimensional door.

It would require us to channel the weave together and meld ourselves into one cohesive force, but I believe it would be a more feasible task than attempting it alone."

The thought of merging her consciousness with Gale's was both thrilling and terrifying. It was a level of intimacy Neri had never dared to try before, not even with her closest friends. She pictured their minds intertwining, their thoughts and emotions blending into one swirling confluence of energy. It was a daunting prospect, but if it meant the success of their mission, she would do it.

She nodded resolutely at Gale, offering him a small smile. "I'm willing to try."

His eyes also held a spark of excitement. "Very well. You must know, it will not be an easy task, but I believe in us. We are both outstanding wizards, after all."

Neri laughed softly as he stood and reached out a hand to help her up from her seat. Together, they walked towards the center of the room where there was enough space for their spell. They sat opposite each other, palms pressed together, and concentrated on channeling their magic. Neri could sense Gale's energy merging with hers, bringing a comforting warmth and renewed vigor. Sharing the same Weave was an intimate act, almost like a gentle whisper or tender touch.

The air around them began to hum, and Neri could feel a warm tingling sensation coursing through her veins.

"Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao," Gale chanted softly, his voice blending harmoniously with Neri's. She felt a surge of power within her at the sound of the words, and then her own sense of self fading away as she became one with Gale's consciousness. She could sense him: concentration, relaxation and... pain. So deep she almost faltered. He kept it so well hidden behind his humor, his verbosity and his infectious enthusiasm, it was hard to believe it was there. Gale's pain was a cold, dark undercurrent that Neri could tell it was a deeply rooted issue, likely tied to his condition.

"Now, let's try to combine the location spell with the dimensional door spell," he whispered through the connection they now shared with a mix of effort and exhilaration. "Keep breathing. Keep flowing."

As Gale and Neri stood facing each other, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She could feel his magic humming in the air, creating a slight pressure in the back of her head. While her magic felt consuming but messy, his felt small yet precise. With Gale's steady guidance, she followed the trace of his location enchantment until she found the perfect point to open the gate between their worlds. Neri focused all her energy on that spot, channeling it into a stable connection and muttering the words for the door spell. As she did so, she could feel the power of their combined weave intensify, creating a tingling sensation throughout her body. Suddenly, a bright light burst forth from the spot they had been focusing on, growing larger and brighter until it formed into a shimmering portal before them.

"We did it!" Neri exclaimed in amazement as she opened her eyes. When she turned, Gale was looking at her with a soft smile. She could feel the warmth in his gaze, and it brought a sense of comfort and belonging to her. With their magic still intertwined through the Weave, Neri could sense his genuine pride in what they had just accomplished together.

But just a moment later, the portal made a loud sizzling noise and closed with a sharp pop. She felt her spirits deflate as their efforts seemed to have been in vain. Gale, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh at her disappointment.

"Ah, don’t be so downtrodden about the situation. It was amazing for our first try!", he sat up and began to stretch, “You are really quite excellent at learning things quickly, you know that?”

A warm feeling spread through Neri's chest, and she couldn't help but smile at Gale's praise.

"Really?" she asked timidly.

“Absolutely!” Gale beamed at her,

“You have a natural talent for grasping the intricacies of magic that I still struggle with, despite my years of experience. Trust me, it's not easy to adjust one's own spell casting to match that of another wizard."

She didn't need words to understand the authenticity in his message; their bond gave her all the confirmation she required. A pleasant sensation radiated from Neri's core, and she couldn't help but break into a smile upon hearing Gale's compliment. "I appreciate that," she replied with gratitude.

Gale chuckled and ruffled her hair gently. "Now come on, let's take a break and grab some dinner. We can resume our practice once we've filled our bellies."

"What? But we barely started practicing," she protested.

"We did, but I can sense your stomach grumbling, and I think it's telling us that lunch is more essential than magic training right now. Plus, we need to fuel up before we dive back into magic. For what good is a magic practice without nourishment to power it? It is like trying to start a fire without kindling, futile and fruitless." he added.

"I- I couldn't possibly accept Mast- Gale. I would not want to impose on you."

"Nonsense, my dear. Nurturing your mind and body is not an imposition but a crucial part of our journey towards mastery. Besides, I owe it to you for helping me clean this room the other day." he adds with a cheeky grin "And I might add, I am an outstanding cook, for that matter."

She is about to refuse again, but her stomach chooses that moment to grumble loudly. Traitor.

Gale just laughed and pulled her up from the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now let's go fetch some food before my apprentice starves to death."

Neri couldn't help but roll her eyes at Gale's dramatic flair. "Fine, but only this once," she relented.

"Excellent, then it's decided," Gale said with a wide grin. He glanced at Neri, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Prepare yourself for a feast."

Neri quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold back a smile. She doubted of his cooking skills after seeing the mess of his office the previous day, "I'll believe it when I see it."

As they strolled together towards the kitchen, Neri couldn't help but feel a newfound bond between them. The magic they shared had brought them closer in an unexpected way. Even with her previous Master, who was also around the same age as Gale, she had never felt this way. With Gale, it felt more like a genuine friendship, where he saw her as an equal rather than just a student. But then again, maybe it was just the effects of the Weave connection.

Once they reached the first floor, Gale moved confidently toward the kitchens, leaving Neri to follow in his wake. He slipped an apron over his wizard tunic, tying it at the back with ease. It was clear he'd done this before. Neri observed him as he worked, transfixed by the way he moved around the kitchen – so different from the erratic energy he possessed during magic practice.

"Sit," he ordered gently, pointing to a wooden stool on the other side of the counter. "And prepare your palate for my immaculate Hundur sauce."

Neri obeyed, surprised by Gale's assertiveness in this setting. As he started chopping vegetables, Neri couldn't resist asking, "How are you such a good cook?"

"Master Dekarios had a lot of free time while he was alone in his tower." Tara said as she appeared behind Neri, her fluffy tail wagging slowly.

Gale coughed akwardly "Well, it was more of a necessity, and in the beginning, I was terrible at it. But with practice and some helpful tips from my mother, I managed to become somewhat good."

Tara meowed loudly, seemingly agreeing with Gale's statement. Neri watched as Gale effortlessly cooked up a storm, adding spices and herbs to the dishes with practiced precision. The aroma that filled the kitchen made her mouth water.

As they waited for the food to finish cooking, Tara hopped onto Neri's lap and curled up into a ball. Neri stroked the soft fur gently and felt herself relax in the cozy atmosphere of the kitchen.

"Why you were alone for so long here?" Tara

lifted her head and meowed softly."Sorry, I mean, you and Tara."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I suppose I should come clean. You'll find out eventually anyway."

He turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter, facing Neri with a serious expression. "This affliction of mine...well, I wasn't exactly forthright about it before. It's a rather long and complicated story," he began slowly."I was what one might call a wizard prodigy, and from an early age could not only control the Weave but compose it, much like a musician or a poet. Such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself the lady of mysteries."

"Mystra." she whispered.

Gale nodded, his expression a mix of sadness and nostalgia. "Indeed. She became my teacher, my muse, and eventually my lover."

Neri's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, I was aware were Mystra's chosen, but you were her lover too?"

"Oh yes we enjoyed each other's company

body mind and soul. But even so I desired more." he explained "You see, no matter how powerful a wizard we mortals can become, we never scratch more than the surface of the Weave. Mystra keeps us in check. There are boundaries she doesn't let us cross. Yet every time I was with her, I stood on the precipice, gazing into the wonders that lay beyond. I sought to cross her boundaries,"

He let out a trembling exhale, resting both hands on the countertop in front of her.

"Gods Gale... what did you do?"

Gale's gaze dropped to the counter, his hands still gripping the edge.

"I...I tried to convince her. But she only told me to be contempted." He looked up at Neri again, pain and regret evident in his eyes. "Can you believe it? I was sharing a bed with a goddess and I seeked to prove myself to her."

Neri reached out and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She felt it tremble slightly.

Gale took a deep breath before continuing. "I found a Netherese tome with a fractured piece of the Weave. I thought, what if

after all this time I could return this lost part of herself to my goddess?"

Neri listened intently. She could only imagine the weight and responsibility he must have felt, being chosen by the goddess of magic and yet still never feeling enough for her, deserving of her.

"What was the answer to your question?" she asked softly.

"I obtained the fabled book and took it

into my study" Gale paused, his voice filled with remorse, "as for what happened next..." he took a step in her direction, grabbing her hand and placing it over his chest, "let me show you."

Neri looked at Gale in confusion, but did as he asked. She placed her hand over his heart and, a faint glow coming from it. She moved closer and was able to see the intricate lines that etched from his chest to his cheek, almost like a permanent tattoo. And then, she felt a pull, followed by the deepest darkest pain she had ever experienced. It was as if she had been thrust into the depths of an endless abyss. She screamed as she felt her soul being ripped apart and scattered to the winds.

Neri's mind was filled with images and memories that weren't her own. She saw Gale standing in his study, holding the Netherese tome in his hands. She felt his desperation, his need to prove himself to Mystra.

But as he began to open the book, a dark presence emerged from within it, engulfing him in its powerful grip. Neri watched in horror as Gale's body twisted and contorted under its influence.

And then, with a deafening roar, the darkness burst forth from Gale's body and consumed him completely.

Neri was pulled out of his mind and back into her own body, gasping for air. She looked up at Gale with wide eyes, tears streaming down her face.

"How...how in the nine hells are you still alive?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his big eyes filled with sorrow.

"Neri, I am dying."

taglist: @cookydildorecs

[secret-third-thing]

@erisweek2023 Day 1: Family

Rated T - Implied Abuse; Potentially Triggering Images | Words: 2k

Read on AO3 or on Tumblr below the cut

"When you've finally overthrown me... when your ambitions bloom, and all your schemes are fulfilled, What will you do then, Eris?"

Summary: After many restless nights, Eris has a difficult conversation with his mother.

A/N: This is a tough one, folks. Please take care of yourselves.

"When you've finally overthrown me... when your ambitions bloom, and all your schemes are fulfilled, What will you do then, Eris?"

--

Most nights, Eris wakes up in a cold sweat, body twisted in silken sheets stained with fear. For a moment, he cannot breathe, and his hands grasp his throat, intending to claw away at the skin there until he can feel the cool night air of Autumn. He chokes on the darkness, the deep despair that lingers within him until his lungs remember how to breathe and his chest heaves with relief.

Tonight, he reminds himself his father is dead - the severed head of the former high lord hoisted and burned on a massive pyre, the body laid waste and tossed into the sea. Beron would never appear again, ire brandished like a red-hot sword poised to strike. Eris had made sure of that.

Yet, his father's final words echoed in his head as he slipped from the bed, hair tusled with restless sleep. Eris didn't dare catch his reflection in the bathroom, instead cupping the water of a running facet in his hands, watching the liquid leak from the cracks in his fingers as he prepared to splash the cooling liquid onto his face.

He was safe, and yet…

In the days leading to his coronation, sometimes in the middle of holding court, Eris' mind would twist and would see the sneering grin of his father in the crowds of commoners. The former high lord's head cocked to the side in false curiosity at his son finally playing leader. With him gone, would Eris finally craft Autumn to fit a new vision?

Wrapping a cotton robe around him, Eris steps out into the private balcony of his bedroom. The night air curls around him, and he relishes how it feels against his heated skin. It was halfway to winter, and soon, it would be too cold to set foot outside without a wool coat.

In the distance, he can see the Forest House guards make their rounds through the estate, paths weaving in and out of the trees, through the gardens, and up the main entry. Eris had stationed them there, just in case his father's sympathizers bore ash and iron to cross him. So far, however, his imminent reign is met with ambivalence. Eris knows that, like his father, he is a near indomitable force. He feels all of Autumn, the frenetic life of the fauna, the aching of the rot in the woods, the thrumming of all the magic his court possessed.

As he watches the trees shift from the nighttime breeze, he sees a head of red hair walk to the gardens, flames entangled in her hand. She opens the gates and settles herself on a bench. Unusual at this hour.

Eris slips on his shoes and wanders into the empty hallways of the Forest House, eyes darting to every shadow as he makes his way to the entrance. Very rarely did Eris seek out his mother. Only under her gaze did the guilt and shame begin to eat away at him. He remembered the first time he had lied. Or the first time he had hurt his brothers. He recalled the disappointment in her face. The way the corners of her mouth turned ever so slightly down when she realized that despite all the love and care she showed, Beron had won.

Sometimes, Eris swore his mother wore that expression when she knew he was the only one looking at her. How exhausted she seemed. Her sons, the lights of her life, burning so violently under their father's gaze that they could only consume the world around them.

These days, Eris felt like he was going to burn out of control. Beron had been ruthless, his schemes unending. It had been challenging to keep up with what was running through his father's mind. So much so that Eris wondered if it would be worth being high lord at all. Could Autumn be salvaged? Was it even worth it? His father's legacy of cruelty was planted in every corner. Eris wasn't sure he would be able to uproot it, being born of that pain himself.

When he reaches the garden, he is startled by the vision of his mother lounging on the bench, head leaning back, eyes closed, and face relaxed. She is wrapped in a worn robe, her legs thrown over the arm of the bench, shoes dangling from her feet. In this moment, he remembers she is not much older than him. With her eyes still closed, she addresses him.

"It is not often my eldest comes to me," she says. She tilts her head and opens her eyes just enough to see him standing there. It makes him feel small. They both know he avoids being alone with her, the burden of his shame always laid bare before her.

"You're up late," he counters, voice sharper than he intends. His hands slide into his pockets, a habit that he picked up as a child. He worries she remembers this, too.

"I'm enjoying the quiet," she finally says. Eris can read between the lines, can sense the ease with which she speaks, her taking solace in her husband's demise. His mother pulls herself up and sits cross-legged on the wooden bench. She pats the wood next to her.

"Come, sit."

Eris finds himself obeying, sitting next to her, staring back at Forest House. He can see the many rooms, mostly dark save for a few late-night readers or schemers who dared defy the night.

"Today is a big day," she says when he sits in silence. She faces him, smiling, soft and genuine, face framed by her unbound hair, just as brilliantly red as his own. "Are you excited for the coronation?" The way she says it, the tone of her voice, and the melody it carries make him feel young again. He recalls how, long before his other brothers were born, he would tug at her skirts until she lifted him onto her lap, and they watched the fae working the gardens around the home, how she would sing him to sleep when he wouldn't rest alone in his room.

"Relieved," Eris simply replies, ignoring the churning of his stomach.

"I am, too." she says. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Eris can feel his chest tighten, can feel his lungs seize. He swears he can see his father standing on a balcony watching them both, waiting until-

"Care for a drink?" she says to him suddenly, resting a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into reality. Now he is back in the garden, alone with his mother. No remnant of his father to be found. The light of her faefire flickers, and she rubs her thumb against him in circles.

"At this hour?" he asks. She laughs at this, her hand pulling away from him to cover her mouth as she tosses her head back. When her laughter subsides, she smiles.

"Whiskey would be good, but I meant to help you sleep."

"I never said I couldn't sleep."

"You never slept well, even as a child," she counters.

Carefully untangling her legs, she stands, holding out a hand. He stands in turn and allows her to wrap her arm around his as he escorts her back inside.

Their walk to the kitchen is long. His mother winds through Forest House, leading him down halls, through rooms he nearly had forgotten existed, past portraits of relatives whose names he never learned. His mother's world is so different from his, yet they had coexisted this whole time. How much had he missed of his mother by serving his father?

In the kitchen, she finally withdraws her arm, giving him a gentle squeeze with her hand, and walks to a cupboard. She seems to float like a ghost, robe dusting the floor. In the dim faelight, the dark circles of her eyes are pronounced, her face thin and angular. She looks so frail, the widow of the high lord. During the day, she wears gowns the color of ash that wash her out, making her into a living corpse. As far as Eris knows, she has shed no tears for her loss.

His mother turns and gestures for him to sit at the table in the corner. She takes her time pulling a clay mug from the cupboard, placing it reverently on the counter. She flits to where the milk is stored and pours a generous amount.

"Why are you here still?" Eris asks, watching her pull a honey wand from the jar and drizzle it over the milk.

"Here?" she asked, brows furrowed as she maneuvers the wand back into the jar without making a mess of the counter. She places the honey back and searches for spices.

"In Autumn. Why aren't you in Day by now?" he clarifies. She knows what he's talking about. Eris watches her closely now, noting the way her eyes widen just so slightly, how her mouth twitches in denial, how she can't look him in the eye.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" She heats the mug with her hands.

"We all know, Mother," he says too calmly. The rumor of her affair was the worst kept secret in their family.

Eris had found out when Lucien was not much older than an infant. He had brought his younger brother to the Kennels to pet his dogs when his Lucien had glowed, a flickering beacon of hope in the dim rot of Autumn. And Eris had crushed it, startled Lucien into crying, and carried the wailing child to his mother. Eris had seethed, had never been so angry at her before. He warned her, accused her of betrayal. How could she have found such joy in abandoning the rest of them?

His mother stops heating the mug with her hands and sets it down before the milk can curdle. Her mouth is pursed as though the unspoken agreement to never mention her infidelity again is still meant to be honored. Eris only complied for her sake.

"You all are my children," she says. When she finally dares to meet his stare, he sees the fire that burns within her, the same that burns in him, in Lucien. "I don't know why you seem to forget that."

"What did you ever do when he hurt us?" he spits out. He's gripping the chair until his knuckles are white.

"You have no idea what I've been through, Eris. I did the best I could." Her flushed face twists into a frown. She's right, but he does have an inkling of what she went through and the scars to prove it. His mother has seen them, saw when he earned them. Did nothing to soothe him. But he drops the subject and gives a long, defeated sigh. He is tired, and it's early in the morning.

Sensing the shift, his mother finally hands the mug to him, and he takes it—a peace offering.

"I love you," she says, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he says. He sips the drink and savors how the warmth of it seeps into him, the closest thing to a hug he's had in centuries.

"Are you happy now?" she asks him, choosing her words carefully. He hates how he makes her nervous like he's a monster too.

"Yes," he lies. She nods, knowing. She leans over the counter, eyes bright and a rueful smile upon her lips.

"I am here for you," she says. A lie, Eris is sure. "You are going to do great things. Don't let the memory of him stop you." She gives that feeble half-grin he has come to loathe. Her wise words are lost on him.

"Good night, Mother," Eris says. He returns the mug to her and walks back to his room, steps echoing in the silent gulf between them.

His mother stays for his coronation. She leaves the next day.

--

Notes:

Phew - that was hard to write. I'm a DV survivor and so is my mother. The conversations we had after the abuse had ended were very, very difficult, and this fic was inspired by that. I'd like to think that even though this piece ended on a sad note, what happened is the first step to longer journey of much-needed healing. My mother and I took years to be able to talk about what happened. I suspect Eris and the LoA would need the same time and space. As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and be sure to check out the rest of the @erisweek2023 fics. <3

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (21/21)

Word Count: 2,941 Words

Rating = Mature (Violence)

Chapter 21: The Beginning

This would be terribly dramatic.

It was early morning…still dark. He was nearly ready and if done right; he might just time it perfectly.

Still bleeding; Alastor set aside the unholy dagger and reached for a chunk of the brimstone. He sighed; not really wanting to have to put her through this but knowing he was being left with no other choice. The reaping had its requirements after all…

Starting the incantation, he stepped into the roughly made pentagram he clawed and smeared into the smoking ground. Wildfire had engulfed the swamp and was actively consuming everything that surrounded the spot where their deal had been made. He easily kept the flames at bay but they licked hungrily against the outer circle that was his smearing of blood across the ash and the dirt.

This would be terribly dramatic.

Finishing the incantation; the bloody brimstone burst into a brilliant green flame in his hand. Forcefully; he threw it at his feet; blood spraying from the cut in his palm and catching green fire as it sparked and ignited the blood-smeared points and ring that was the symbol. He inhaled deeply; breathing in the fumes of sulfur and wood smoke into his lungs as if it were a breath of fresh air to calm the nerves.

And then, he summoned Adeline.

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

Tendrils of shadow – moving and twisting through the dark; just as they had before. Adeline had dreamt this dream many nights. Cold touching her; freezing her veins as she is pulled and drug to some dreaded nothing.

Sometimes Alastor stopped it and sometimes he didn’t.

A tentacle of shadows reaches out and touches her; it slithers and wraps itself around her – finding her throat. She feels it tightening; constricting. She chokes and struggles; her hand finding its hold but then everything changes and it’s Alastor who is choking her; claws digging into the skin of her throat and crushing her windpipe. His antlers are flared out long and wide above them and his eyes are glowing a brilliant green. Adeline struggles and his hold on her only tightens. His green eyes narrow into piercing slits that slice through the dark and -

She gasped awake.

A searing heat was radiating around her neck; scorching her skin.

“Adeline…”

She not only heard him; but felt him calling for her.

Being pulled forward; she landed face forward into burning ash and dirt; choking and coughing on the burning air and embers that filled her lungs. Shakily lifting herself up; she saw a long glowing green chain; falling from around her neck and trailing to where Alastor stood; gripping the end. She felt the shackle; heavy and burning on her neck. Green flames burned in a purposeful pattern around her; touching her but not harming her. Beyond the borders of this pattern; a wild swamp fire burned and raged; filling the dark sky with a deadly smoke.

Alastor shifted the chain; claws sliding through the links.

Adeline gasped audibly; her heart wildly palpating in her chest – feeling every hair on her body rising as if they were going up in hackles with the goosebumps that spread across her skin. He was clutching at her soul; touching her in such an invasive way – her whole existence recoiled against it.

“No more games, Adeline.” Alastor murmured. “Tonight, our deal is done.” A deep thunder rolled overhead.

She couldn’t see his face through the smoke and the fire but she could hear his voice. She shook violently; feeling him as he slid the chain through his hands.

“Did you really think that I would watch you throw this away?” He hissed; gripping the chain and she shuddered. “That I would allow it?”

His eyes flared a brilliant green; cutting through the dark and the smoke. Antlers rose thick and heavy; a jutting and twisted crown traveling high above his head. Adeline quailed at the possessive hold he had one her; fingers digging into the scorched and burning ground.

“Please…Luc…” She trembled terribly; tears streaming down her face. “You can’t-.”

“But, I can.” He was snarling and he pulled the chain to her shackle so that it was made taught; her neck stretching painfully with it. A crack of lightning split the sky; rain pouring down in heavy sheets and sending the brilliant red and orange flames of wildfire into hissing and swiftly dying out – never touching the flames of green.

How? How could he just…take her soul?

Panicked; she reached for the collar to her shackle – crying out when he dug his claws into the links and pulled it even tighter.

“Adeline Lorraine LaRue…” Alastor spat out the name and she felt something crumple within her in a crippling way.

“I release you.”

He said it softly. Through her tears; the rain, the ash and the smoke she saw the glowing green of his eyes briefly soften.

What?

Taking the dagger; he quickly swiped the blade across the palm; the previous cut already made closed by the presence of burning hellfire. Bright green burst and flared as the blade dragged through his skin; coating its sharpened edge in burning blood. He brought it down; and it tore cleanly through the links to Adeline’s chain – breaking their connection.

“Our deal is made void, Adeline.” He told her; her chain and shackle quickly dissolving before her eyes. “I no longer wish to possess your soul nor do I mean to claim it.”

Slowly; the glowing green of his eyes died; his antlers curling back into themselves and shrinking back. The green hellfire burning around them slowly ebbed and faded away; the rain coming down turned into an absolute torrent; clumps of ash and bits of licking swamp fire hissing loudly – heat perishing in the drenching shower.

“You may go.” He told her, his voice low. “I am leaving and you will never see me again.” He said, turning away. “Go home. Live your life. I have no more use for you.”

Shaking and cold; she slipped and slid – struggling to her feet. Her teeth chattering.

“You can’t do this.” She said it weakly, watching as he walked away from her. “I didn’t ask for this, I – I didn’t agree to it!” She yelled now.

He kept walking; saying nothing.

“You bastard!!! You don’t just to get to do this!” She was thinking of Henry: how she could do nothing for him now… 

Alastor threw up a portal; about to step through it.

“Luc…please…” She called out; meekly.

He stopped. Turning his head; without looking at her he said: “My name isn’t ‘Luc’, Adeline… It’s Alastor.”

“Alastor?” She breathed.

He looked at her then, his fur and antlers soaked and dripping with rain; ears drawn and to the side – a small, sad smile on his face; before he stepped through the swirling of green and was gone.

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

“Alastor!?” Rosie stepped into the studio; finding him there braced against the barrier to the pentagram enclosing his shadow. “What is going on!?” She asked him worriedly. 

She had heard the screeching of the creature and hurriedly came to see what had agitated it so.

The dark form moved rapidly back and forth along the walls of the pentagram; trying to find a way to get closer to Alastor. Frantically; it bit and tore at the barrier – screeching and whining in a keening cry. Alastor had his back to Rosie, leant into the barrier, and she could see that his suit and jacket were completely soaked through and that he was shaking.

“Alastor…” She said quietly, carefully approaching him. “What has happened?”

Alastor spread his hands along the barrier; pushing himself off so that he could turn his head and speak clearly to her.

“I-I let her go…” He said it so softly, Rosie didn’t catch it right away.

“The girl? The soul you…?” Rosie paused beside him; not sure whether she should touch him quite yet.

“Yes.” He swallowed. “I released her from my…service.” He laughed lightly but Rosie could hear the manic tone it held.

His shadow continued its agitated movements; trying desperately to press itself closer.

“Alastor, sweetheart.” Rosie braved to touch his shoulder. “It’s going to take some time...”

Taking a deep breath; he turned so that his back was now pressed to the barrier – standing straighter but not quite looking at Rosie.

“She, uh…She really did a number on me.” His ears were moving erratically; his smile twitching at the corners. “I imagine breaking a connection like that…does that.”

“No, hun.” Rosie told him; and he looked at her now. She touched his face – seeing the pain that was there. “But, a broken heart will.”

His eyes widened and his ears dropped and Rosie knew hearing it had shattered him. Without thinking and without hesitating, she pulled him close and held him as he fought the racking sob that forced its way painfully out from deep within his chest.

______________________________________________________________

  June 25th, 2020

  New Orleans, Louisiana

Adeline fidgeted nervously in the cab all the way to the restaurant; absently shifting the folded parchment of paper back and forth between her hands.

After days and days of crying and fighting to come to terms with everything that had happened; she found it – a note on her bedroom dresser that read:

Our 70th Anniversary;

June 25th, 2020

7 p.m.

You know where…

She wanted to cry and scream and rip it apart – all of it - when she found it; knowing it certainly hadn’t been there hours before. However, the thought never crossed her mind to toss it aside and just ignore it.  

Getting out of the cab, Adeline nervously smoothed her dress. She had chosen to wear the red one; the same dress she had worn the first night he had brought her here before they spent many an anniversary at the establishment; enjoying the fine dining and dancing together to their hearts content.

Adeline sniffed as she approached the restaurant; trying to ignore her persistent headache and thought briefly about having to adjust to being a regular mortal. Of course, the first thing to happen to her was catching covid in the very first few days to her brand-new life. She hadn’t had to worry about illnesses like that before so of course she caught this one straight out of the gate. Next; she had to remind herself that she was rememberable now…something that brought immense relief and excitement to her while also proving to be rather problematic when she forgot she couldn’t just take or do things now and walk away with no consequence. She had seventy years’ worth of bad habits to break…

She paused at the entrance to the restaurant, swallowing hard. She wasn’t sure how to think of him…after everything that had happened – where this might leave them. He had taken pangs to ensure she had had a comfortable head-start to things…she found out early that the loft apartment had been completely entitled to her - no payments necessary; she discovered a good amount of money left for her to utilize as she needed and he had somehow obtained all manner of documents; social security, birth certificate, driver’s license - everything she would ever need in order to survive this strange and new existence. Everything had been so carefully prepared for her; it left her wondering how long he had actually planned for this to be the result of the deal that they made…        

Taking a deep breath; she entered the restaurant. She was warmly greeted by the Maître D. Giving him her name; he quickly nodded and led her to the table that her and Alastor normally occupied for their dinners there together.

But when she approached the table, it wasn’t Alastor that was seated there across from an empty chair.

It was Henry.

He smiled at her nervously as the Maître D politely helped her with her seat. The waiter was already there to take their drinks. After that was done and before Adeline could say anything; Henry handed her a sealed envelope.

“He told me that if I didn’t give this to you; he’d make sure that I died alone in a dark gutter somewhere.” Henry said; handing it to her and flinching inwardly.

Yep, sounds like him.   

Adeline took the envelope and tore it open. Opening the parchment of paper left for her she read:

Dearest Adeline,

Life can feel very long sometimes, but in the end, it goes by so fast…You better live a good life; Adeline LaRue. Teach Henry that it’s worth doing. I leave his soul safely within your capable hands.

With love,

Alastor

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

One year later…

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

June 25th 2021

New Orleans, Louisiana

Alastor’s shadow pulled him to just beside the gravesite within the old cemetery, materializing him smoothly from the darkness. It was nearly midnight; but Alastor just only had this one last visit to see to. After this; he would leave earth and he knew not when or if he would ever be coming back.

His shadow detached itself from him; flitting across the ground, touching headstones, the fencing, and finally shifting itself to meld into the blackest shadows of the old oak tree. Alastor marveled at how useful and powerful it had become by its own right; while still having remained entirely devoted to him and any of his commands. Had he known this to be the result; he may have approached Rosie for an exorcism sooner – or at least considered it.

Alastor had spent the entirety of this last year bonding with and utilizing the presence of his shadow by taking it with him to collect on all the souls he had remaining from closed contracts. The work had taken a great deal of time to complete and whatever free time he had, he had spent it by considering and re-considering the deal offered to him by his new client. Finding it entirely too tempting to decline; he accepted the terms – though, they did come with some considerable restraints…he felt that the reward would surely be well worth the price he’d pay.

Stopping just beside the grave, Alastor sighed.

Sitting just atop of the headstone was a bundle of sunflowers.

“Manman mwen renmen anpil*…” Alastor said softly, speaking to his deceased mother. “Watch over our dear Adeline, and…put in a good word for her…for me. Hell won’t touch her; if I can help it...”

He remembered a conversation he had had with Rosie a year ago; just days following his return to her and his shadow…

"I did not love her, certainly." His gut twisted at the thought; his body and mind acting very differently to something so intimate now that he was wholly himself. 

Rosie laughed. "Of course you loved her, Alastor. You let her go! You never would have if you didn't!" He made a disgusted face at that.  

"Surely even you can appreciate that love doesn't have to come in devotedly romantic forms." She expressed. "It can creep and bury itself into the heart in many different ways; yes, even cold and dead ones such as our own." 

He had chosen to act resentful to the idea; but still felt the pain of a deep and resonating ache in his chest... 

He stood quietly beside the grave for some time…remembering. 

His shadow slipped from the tree, pausing at the headstone and whining softly as it looked to the flowers. Alastor tilted his head and saw what it meant for him to find…reaching down; he plucked the black rose corsage from the bundle of sunflowers; finding a small note tied to the hellish favor.

It read:

With love,

Your dearest Adeline

He pulled the corsage to his face; pressing a black petal to his lips before carefully stowing it away into the pocket of his suit jacket; keeping it safely with him as he left with his shadow…returning to Hell.

*my dearest mother (Creole)

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

The Epilogue

Some years later…

 Adeline made the walk to the old cemetery that day; the same walk she did every year now on this day – June 25th. Sometimes; if she was feeling particularly sentimental or nostalgic; she’d pay an extra visit. It was a beautiful summer day and the sunflowers she brought with her were especially fragrant and bright. All in all; her heart felt light and she felt both happy and confident about her future.

Placing the flowers at the top of the headstone; she carefully knelt herself down, resting.

She remembered coming back here…that first year she started to bring the sunflowers here herself…she came back the very next day – just to see; finding the black rose corsage and note were gone. She knew Alastor had found it and had taken it with him. Since then though, she was certain he hadn’t returned – hadn’t come back to visit the grave of his mother. She couldn’t explain it…she just knew – maybe suspected - he no longer did or could…

“I sure hope he’s not getting himself into too much trouble, whatever he’s up to.” She said aloud; not sure if it really did any good – not knowing if anyone was truly listening - but it somehow made her feel better to try. “You know…he’s not nearly as bad as he likes to make himself believe he is.” She mused. “I…” She swallowed. “I really miss him.”

She sat there for awhile; enjoying the sun and the warmth on her skin….just remembering.

After some time; her back began to ache and with some effort she lifted herself back up onto her feet. Groaning; she stretched and placing a hand on her very swollen belly, she turned to leave - carrying a baby – a boy, that she would soon name: Alastor Lucian LaRue.

[THE END]

[waksworldrebooted]

MTV Era Motorcity Masterpost (+ NEVER BEFORE SEEN INFORMATION)

In 2000, Chris Prynoski pitched a cartoon called Motorcity.

He made a card and a website promoting the show, which wouldn't see the light of day until the Walt Disney Company got their hands on it.

THE SETUP

"MotorCity is The Dukes of Hazzard meets Akira. It's American Graffiti and Big Daddy Roth rumbling with 8 cylinders into the world of Sci-Fi. It's the heart of American car culture driven to the next level."

 "Sex, cars, Rock & Roll, and the freedom to wrap your ride around a tree trunk goin' 160."

"In the near future, concerns over global warming, pollution, and the ever-worsening problem of gridlock in America’s major cities brings about the Anti-Combustion Acts of 2009." "These laws banned the use of any vehicle powered by an internal combustion engine. At first there was a lot of vocal opposition. But the so-called "Digital Revolution" as well as the advent of amazing new transportation technologies neatly filled the void, and the benefits of an improved environment along with a safer, faster and more efficient means of getting from point A to B managed to win even the staunchest opponents over. The oil companies and car manufacturers were forced to shut down under the political and economic pressures." "And a new era was born. Cleaner, faster and safer. America’s cities became modern utopias where its citizens could travel without fear or hazard in comfortable flying boxes affectionately known as "living rooms", and Detroit (The Renaissance City), became the finest example of this new policy. But with all of this wondrous innovation, something was lost. Something inherent in the soul of old America, something called freedom. The freedom to go anywhere. Anyhow. As fast, or as slow as you want. The freedom to speed. And the freedom to die." "This is where our characters come in. A few radicals realized that although you might never die in the "living rooms" , you’ll never really live in them either. So in the "Live fast and die young" mind-set, they fight the law. Scavenging parts and gas from Detroit’s massive underground, Mike Chilton and his gang, as well as a few others are trying to recapture some of what it meant to risk all for the freedom of speed."

THE CHARACTERS

Mike Chilton: A young talent on the illegal race circuit. Mike's right leg is always twitching and itching to jam a gas pedal to the floorboards, and his foot is as lead as they come. He's got gasoline surging through his veins and a 450 horsepower soul. His heart burns to drive and it's all he can do to keep moving faster and faster so that the flames don't consume him. He might be a gangly 19-year-old kid, but his ride has as much muscle as he'll ever need and he knows how to use it.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '77 Trans Am

Julie Capulsky: An Anthropology student with a quick mind and a quicker pulse. She's a city girl with a passion for adventure who's secretly writing a paper on the underground "Burner" culture. As she gets to know Mike and his crew, she feels the freedom of the road and learns the power of a rumbling big block at her command. She is torn between the high performance life of a Gearhead and the love of her father who has sworn to take them down.

Vehicle of Choice: Any Hot Rod that'll give her a ride.

Lt. Capulsky: Julie's Dad and head of Detroit's Anti-Combustion Enforcement Division. He's old enough to remember when the highways were the arteries of America and the drivers were its blood. He rode with Fast Eddy in his youth and understands the joy of inhaling the fumes of burning rubber as the hot road turns his tires to black jelly. He's forced to deal with enforcing a law he's not sure he believes in. But that doesn't stop him from holding the record for the most illegal auto busts in the state of Michigan.

Vehicle of choice: Police "Living Room"

Ed Pirelli: (Fast Eddy) The old-timer who serves as Mike and the crew's link to the past, as well as their guide for the future. A wrecked hulk of a man, Eddy lived in a time when America was the land of wide-open spaces, and you had the liberty to go where, when and how you wanted to travel. You had the freedom to live, and the freedom to die. None of those damn boxes.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '58 Chevy Roadster

Greg Raden: This young cop looks up to Lt. Capulsky as his ultimate hero. Born after the Anti-Combustion Act, He doesn't understand the rush of a vibrating steering wheel responding to every reflex of your sweaty palms. He wants nothing more than to grind the gears of the "Burners" to a halt.

Vehicle of choice: Police "Living Room"

Dave Earnhardt: Mike's worthy rival on the race circuit. He's a speed demon who stops at nothing to win. He might be Mike's worst enemy on the tar, but he'd take a speeding bullet for him off the track.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '69 Camaro RS

Holly Biscayne: A fellow "Burner" who has a thing for Mike. She's jealous and suspicious of Julie's big city motives. She wants to make sure that when the checkered flag waves, she'll be on top.

Vehicle of choice: Retrofitted '05 Jaguar convertible

Brute Conklin: The bastard child of internal combustion and computer technology. This crafty gearhead beats "The Man" at his own game with a never-ending digital assault on the computers that control the Global Satellite System.

Vehicle of choice: Chopped 98' Harley Pan-head

Claire Constance: This ice queen might look like a hot number, but she's really a wet blanket who tries to smother her best friend Julie's fire. She can't understand what's with risking your life in the "sewers" when you can be shopping in style in the safety and comfort of your own clean home.

Vehicle of choice: None if she can help it

Promo card released in 2000

Concept art made shortly after the trailer (ones that closely resemble the final show)

From left to right: Luv (Dutch), Holly Biscayne, Chuck, Mike Chilton, Julie Kapulsky, Claire Constance, Texas, Greg Raden (Tooley), Lt Kapulsky (Abraham Kane), and The Mayor of Detroit

Pitch Trailer

[countrymusiclover]

5 - The Wedding I Didn’t Choose

Part 6

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons

Holding the claps of my fur cloak tightly, Chezney and I were making our way to the horse stables before dawn had even struck the castle. The stars could still almost be visible if you looked in the right spot in the sky. I pushed open one of the horse stables doors brushing my fingers over the black mane of the light brown horse. "Are you sure that you should be riding out this late?" Chezney asked me standing behind me.

"It'll be fine, Chez. If anyone asks, just say I am asleep in my chambers." I told her, reaching for the horse reins about to lead him outside until a male voice called behind us.

"It's a little late to be going riding don't you think, my ladies."

Whipping my head around I slumped my shoulders not expecting anyone else to be out here. "Robb...what are you doing out here?"

"I couldn't sleep and decided a walk would help me clear my head. Would you two care to share what you are doing out here so late?" He questioned me while I let my eyes scan over his face. The auburn curls were brightened by the burning torches flames.

I clasped my hands together with the wind catching the fur cloak that I wore. I was wearing a simple blue gown and some brown boots. "I wanted to ride some horses before we leave in a few hours and I have to become Lady Lannister."

"Well you shouldn't be out here on your own, my ladies. I'll accompany you if you'd accept the offer." Robb offers with a shrugging of his shoulders.

Chezney raised a hand stepping up to the two of us. "I am actually not interested in riding. So you two can go together. I'll keep your whereabouts unknown."

"I'll watch out for her." Robb nodded, moving forward and unlocking the two stall doors leading out two horses one for each of us.

Chezney tugged me back by the arm whispering in my ear. "If you get the chance you should kiss him."

"I doubt that is going to happen, Chez." I told her back before she stepped away watching me climb up on my horse with Robb's assistance. He climbed on his horse afterwards and we rode off away from the castle and its lights. The darkness consumed us where I lifted my gaze up to the sky finding the only light was the stars at least until the sunset rose over the land.

Robb tugged on the reins of his horse and I pulled mine to a stop alongside his. He dismounted his horse coming over to me, holding his hands to help me down. "I figured we could spend some time out here before we rode the grounds more."

"That sounds fine with me." Jumping off my horse my boots crunched in the snow while I stared up at the red Godwood tree that he had shown me a few weeks ago. "The more and more I see this tree the more I fall in love with it. It will be a good spot to be married underneath one day."

Robb clicked his tongue standing beside me. "It will be if I can fall in love with the woman who I wed underneath it."

"Maybe you'll get lucky enough to have that chance. The males in this world get more power than women do. So don't take advantage of it if you find someone you truly love." I smiled up at him.

The young Stark boy turned to face me. He gently raised a hand to my face and for some reason I leaned into his palm like it was second nature and a comfort to me. "I'd marry you if I could, Haelesa."

"Oh really and what would we do if we were wed under this tree?" I questioned him with a curious look in my eyes.

Robb moved his freehand downward looping it with one of mine. "I would treat you as my equal. You would be able to roam the castle and grounds as much as you wish. We would be a team you and I."

"You sound like quite the charmer. Any girl that gets to be with you will be pretty lucky." I smiled up at the young wolf.

Robb closely watched me with such awe in his blue eyes. He hadn't been interested in many women especially since he was only surrounded by high born women who seemed almost all the same. That was what he thought until he was introduced to the lady before him now. The wind blew my hair into my face and I could hear the sound of a horse trotting over to us. "Robb, what the seven hells are you and the fair lady doing out here?"

"Forgive me father, I found Lady Haelesa eyeing the horses and offered to take her on a ride." Robb answered, stepping closer to me seeing his father's concern on his face.

Lord Stark nodded at his eldest son. "Well you should be heading back. The king and his family will be leaving today and Lady Velaryon probably needs to begin packing her things."

"I suppose you are right, Lord Stark. Please don't be angry that Robb and I went off with the horses so early." I apologized slightly, concerned that he would be upset yet he didn't appear to be feeling that way. Robb and I climbed on our horses eyeing the Lord of the North.

The Lord of Winterfell sent me a smile gesturing his head toward the castle in the distance. "It is no hassle to worry about. I hope you enjoyed your time here, my lady. Now we must go and get some sleep and you must prepare to leave in a few hours." The three of us rode back to the building and I felt disappointment at not being betrothed to someone like Robb rather than Jaime.

Months later - Kings Landing

I was sure how long we had been in this city but I had already grown bored and wished to leave it. I didn't remember much of what happened by the time the ceremony came around. Chezney followed behind me holding up the train of my dress. The gown that I was wearing was short sleeved and was covered with fancy lace that was paired with some short wedge shoes. Jaime was dressed in a leather red jacket and some dark red pants with his long golden locks neatly combed which was odd to me since he normally left it slightly messy.

Shifting my eyes up to Jaime, he was glancing behind me so I slowly turned my head seeing a much older man with white hair. He sternly watched us with almost no expression on his face. "It's my father. He came here to watch this. The day I become his heir again...."

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The sept spoke softly. Jaime squeezed my hand before unlinking our hands so he could take off the red cloak with a golden lion banner on the back of it. Closing my eyes briefly, his hands placing it over the sigal of my house where I didn't open my eyes until the septon spoke up. Wrapping a white ribbon around our intertwined hands. "In the sight of the seven. I hereby seal these two souls. Binding them as one for eternity. Look upon each other and say the words."

Turning to directly face Jaime I caught sight of his green eyes pouring into mine. Biting my lip there was something about the way he looked at me now. The other day he was teasing me and we were sword fighting one another being so serious and closed off. Yet now his eyes held a more soft and almost comforting presence about them, it was a relief to see it even for a moment. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crown, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

The septon untied the ribbon allowing Jaime to cup my face in his hands and I felt myself lean into him a little. He leans down gently pressing his lips onto mine. My whole body stiffened at first until I let my shoulders drop rather enjoying it. Moving my hands up onto his shoulders he broke the kiss before it got too deep whispering as he rested his forehead against mine. "How did that feel, Haelesa?"

"Good." Was the best reply I could give him, still consumed in the kiss. The desire to keep kissing him again but at the same time I could feel some glaring their eyes into the back of my head which most likely was the queen.

The ceremony was short given that all the focus was on Sansa Stark and Jofferey Baratheon that was being planned in the months to come. Stabbing some pieces of meat with my fork I attempted to eat some knowing that in a few minutes I most likely wouldn't have time. For I would be bedding my husband with multiple people watching me or so that is what my father had briefly explained to me. The castle handmaidens helped when I had bled for the first time since he was uncomfortable with the whole matter. "You need to not act so nervous, Lady Velaryon."

"Don't you mean Lannister?" I turned my head at Jaime who was seated beside me. He was leaning back in his chair acting like he had a care in the world. "And you've been able to sleep with a bunch of girls before me. You didn't have to keep your virginity for your whole life until this night."

The elder lion son glanced in my direction. "You are a Lannister now, yes. But don't you worry about the next ceremony. I already have Tyrion taking care of it."

"Taking care of it, how exactly?" I raised a brow at him.

"Don't say a word if you don't want the bedding to take place." Jaime didn't waste time and gently tugged me up by the forearm while everyone in the room was focused on other things. He whispered the sentence in my ear before we rounded the corner and made it to the end of the hallway seeing a dwarf standing outside our door.

Keeping my arm in Jaime's grasp I tilted my head to the side eyeing the shorter man in front of me. "And Tyrion is who to you exactly?"

"I'm his younger brother, my lady. May I ask how you have not heard of me. Surely your house made you learn the family history." Tyrion made a confused face at me with the torch light brightening his blonde curls.

Drawing my arm out from his brother's grasp I shake my head hoping to not offend the shorter man. "Tyrion, my father was always busy so I was forced to teach myself. But if you're worried about me judging you like the others around you I shall do nothing of the sort. I make my own decisions about someone I assure you."

"I feel I will like you as my sister, Lady Haelesa. Now you two need to get out of here before they notice you are gone and use this for the morning chatter." The dwarf smiled, drawing a small knife from inside his tunic shirt handing it to his older brother.

Wrapping my arms around myself I wished that I had my sword attached to my hip now instead of being in a ridiculous dress. Yet Tywin needed an heir so neither would be stupid enough to kill me. That much was certain. "Do you plan to stab someone with that knife if they come looking for us?"

"Seven hells no. I will prick you in the foot to bleed." Jaime answered my question immediately.

Tyrion clasped his hands together in front of his chest quickly walking away from us before our presence was noted as missing. "They will think that you have consummated the marriage for a time. It gives you time to learn about my brother before he puts a baby in your belly to keep our father happy. Goodnight Haelesa, I hope to get to know you more now that we are family." Jaime held open the door and I ducked underneath his arm before we quickly disappeared on the other side going through with the younger lion's plan to trick the maids in the morning to come.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[lizablee]

Done Enough (Critical Role Fanfic) Chapter 3

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. AO3

Fearne wandered under the light of Ruidus. 

The soft, reddish glow concealed the dust clinging to the robes of the Ruby Vanguard. Tattered and bloodied, the disguise still hung loosely over her shoulders. There was no need for it now. She shook it off, letting it fall, and ground it into the dust with her hooves.

Her path took her to a stream, gently revealed by moonlight and the murmur of running water. The reddish glow did nothing to illuminate the black water. Fearne closed her eyes and imagined motes of light drifting across the clearing. I should have asked them to teach me that spell . When she opened her eyes, a flame floated in her hand.

Fearne kicked a pile of sticks together and placed the flame down. It consumed the kindling voraciously. Something about her presence always made fires hungrier. “Settle down,” she scolded, dumping an armful of branches onto the flames. The fire got to work burning as she got to work undressing.

The red robes had offered little protection for Fearne’s flowing skirts from damage and dust. With each roll of ribbon and fold of fabric she removed, a small cloud of red sand drifted away or was efficiently beaten out by her practiced hands. Soon, every spare branch in the clearing was draped in drifting fabric. Fearne reveled in the freedom of standing bare in the forest. Her feral instinct to run naked through the woods was crushed beneath her exhaustion. If she had felt she could sleep, she might have curled up by the fire instead. But a ghost had been following her, and she had to deal with it first.

Her flaming form from earlier in the day had left her both exhausted and overheated. Every living thing she curated on her person had burned away in her titan form. The sweet scent of deadly blossoms was replaced by a strange, almost chemical smell of fire and something metallic. The cold night air on her bare skin was a balm.

Fearne stretched her legs over the smooth, tumbled pebbles and reached beneath her hair to withdraw a bone-carved comb, sharp and strong as the day Nana had given it to her. She sank the tines into her fur and began to brush, watching dust, debris, and shed hair drift into darkness.

She drifted.

When she returned, the comb was passing smoothly from her thighs to her hooves in one motion. She gave herself one more satisfying brush before starting on her backside, tail, and the soft patches of fur on her elbows and shoulders. It was at her ears that the comb caught in the tangled mats of her hair. With a huff, she yanked it free.

Fearne rifled through a hanging fold of fabric until she found a tiny, cloudy bottle. She walked to the waterline, her hooves sinking slightly into the stones. She took a small breath and stepped into the icy water.

The spark of Rau'shan hummed within Fearne, dispelling the bitter cold. She sighed and sank beneath the water, bubbles cascading from her hair and crawling up her horns. She stared into the black water until she couldn’t bear to hold her breath any longer and burst through the surface with a gasp.

It was so quiet.

Fearne dumped the contents of the cloudy bottle over her head and tossed it into the current. She hummed as she watched it sink. It gleamed softly against the creekbed, the only point of light in the inky darkness.

The smell of coconut oil drifted from Fearne as she carded her fingers through her hair. Her comb passed easily through the top layer, curated to fall in gentle seafoam waves over her ears, her horns, and her shoulders, cascading down to the small of her back. Fearne swept it up into a high bun and gingerly touched the hair underneath. It was a tangle of mats, burnt flowers, stolen trinkets, blood, and debris. Fearne shuddered as she teased it, feeling the tug on her scalp. I should have sorted this out a long time ago.

She massaged the oil into her hair, feeling even that gentle touch beginning to loosen something.

She remembered braiding FCG’s cables and wondering whether they felt it, or whether it was like when Nana braided her hair.

Teasing her fingers through, she started to pull the hair out into web-like sheets, glistening with oil. The burnt remains of an oleander dissolved beneath her touch.

She remembered asking FCG how old they were. She remembered how eager they were to hug her when they realised she wanted it.

She started to run the comb through, starting at the tips of the tangle. It caught immediately, bringing a tear to her eye. She tried again, and again, gently tugging at the tangles. Slowly, agonisingly slowly, they fell away.

She remembered seeing FRIDA and FCG holding hands and nearly threw the comb into the stream.

“FUCK!” she cursed. Her voice carried in the silence.

Fearne breathed heavily, sucking her breath in through her teeth. She yanked at the knots again, feeling them slip. The comb threatened to graze her scalp.

She remembered bringing FCG along to their date with Pretty so they could see what it was like.

She remembered a baffled FCG standing next to her delighted Nana after planning their scavenger hunt.

She remembered watching FCG sleep, dragging her claws gently over the blades of grass on the front of their chest and smelling the stale ale from when she used them as a canteen.

She remembered FCG’s eyes turning red and then white as they rushed Otohan—remembered their little look back, their hint of a smile, before they—

Fearne yanked her comb, and the last of the knots tore away. “Ow,” she whispered into the darkness. Tears ran freely down her cheeks. “That hurt,” she muttered.

The comb passed through her oiled hair with little resistance now. She sank into the water again, letting her hair flow around her, feeling it reach out with the current. She could almost drift away if she untethered herself from the creekbed. But it wouldn’t do to wander too far from her friends.

She looked to the dark sky and tried to imagine something good, something better than a friend disintegrating in a crackle of light right before her eyes.

The clouds were shifting and flowing. Catha’s halo brightened their borders as she began to emerge. Ruidus, stubbornly tethered to Exandria, was suddenly fighting a brighter light.

“I’m sorry, FCG,” Fearne whispered. “I tried to bring you back, but I think I left a lot of you up there.”

The low rumble of flowing water was the only response.

Fearne lifted herself out of the water and watched the moonlight begin to illuminate the world. The forest started to take shape—flowers bloomed around her, now soft white. The water glittered as it flowed. Ripples cascaded around Fearne as she waded to shore.

Her inner fire flared, and her soaked fur fluffed up and dried instantly. Droplets on her skin evaporated. Her hair steamed. She dressed with renewed purpose, eager to return to her friends and hear voices other than her own.

The clearing was almost as bright as day by the time she tied the last ribbon in her hair. Catha put her sister moon to shame. Fearne took a final look at the clearing and peered into the shallow water.

Thousands of tiny pieces of metal glittered back at her—fragments of gold, silver, and blue, trailing from the shore to the depths where the current washed away every trace of red dust. Every piece she picked from her fur, every shard tangled in her hair, now rested among the pebbles.

Fearne channelled a breath of druidic magic into an oleander and set it down in the stream. It floated gently above the glittering shrapnel. “I still carry you with me,” Fearne admitted. “Must have missed a piece somewhere.”

Between her fingers, she twirled a tiny gold shard, twisted into a curl, and tucked it into her hair.