#and expressed emotions i haven't ever really known how to feel but which have sat like a stone in my chest for years

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

still thinking about the dream i had the other night where me and grian chatten dismantled my childhood wardrobe (the place i used to hide when things were bad) and turned it into kintsugi

[flowerbloom-arts]

Omnishambles

chapter 1

In which I, the Muddler, have become an invisible leech on my fellow crewmen, the Moomin tries to ignore the situation, my Joxter tries to salvage my visibility in any way he can, my uncle falls into a great sadness, and then I go to sleep.

-

Prolog | Next Chapter

[Features the whole Oshun Oxtra. Full of angst. 3.5 k words long. Some Juddler (Joxter x Muddler) cuz I can't help myself.]

🥀

I sat there as my uncle explained to the others what had happened to me in an emotion I don't remember seeing him express before. He was normally so stoic, what happened…? I looked at the ground and only then noticed my legs weren't where they're meant to be.

Where was I? Was I… gone? As I tried to look for myself, my uncle finally explained that I seemed to have turned invisible.

Oh. So that's what this is.

I'm just invisible. Not gone – but not a ghost, either; they just can't see me under my still visible burnt saucepan. I didn't know how to feel about it. I was still trying to process what had happened, how my tin was gone. Just… Gone.

I still couldn't believe that.

I had that old thing for as long as I can remember… which, admittedly, isn't that much since I can't seem to remember much of my adolescence but, still, I'm pretty sure I've had that thing for a very long time, not to mention everything that was inside it: My penwipes, pipe cleaners, cookware, cutlery, gears, tools, pencils, clothes, jewelry… buttons… My poor buttons especially… Every one of those I've collected myself; some were gifts from my Joxter, yes, but I went to riverbanks and dumps – and you don't want to know where else – to get everything. I had to spend time walking, searching, and finding them, I had to take so many baths to clean off those horrible smells off my wretched self. All of that just to satisfy some unreasonable desire I can't even begin to describe.

And now, everything that I've gained from it is nothing but debris in the middle of nowhere, lost to rust, engulfed by the great unknowns of the abyss below our boat.

Now, I was worthless. At least, I felt so.

Hodgkins searched for my arm and lifted me up so I could stand, confirming that yes, I was there, just not able to be seen.

I looked at him as he gave me – or I suppose the ground or saucepan – the most disquieted look I've ever seen on that old blue face of his.

"Are you alright?" He asked gently.

I nodded, but all they could see was a pot tilting up and down. I looked at the others for the first time in this state.

Moomin tried to keep a serious expression but his eyes had a deep horror within them, and Joxter had such an expression of heartbreak that I desperately wished I could've mustered up an apology for him, but I'm completely voiceless as it turns out. I looked down and noticed the Nibling – I think he didn't know what to think, really, he was speechless with confusion, as we haven't known each other for long and had little to no bond.

Hodgkins' paw drifted down from above my elbow to my own paw and said "Let's take you to the pilot-house," as he guided me there.

I looked back at the crew one last time and then quickly turned back around before the guilt took hold of me. Despite this, it still eventually enveloped my heart knowing they held the same expressions as they watched us leave.

I sat down on the couch of the pilot-house and my uncle went to the chest to search for something. I looked at him and wondered why he's still bothering with doing anything to help me, still bothering to care at all. He only cares about important matters, he was always a practical man that I admired deeply, he was too big to care about little things. So why would he care about me if I wasn't at least useful? Now I'm just useless, why am I worth his time anymore?

He came up to me with a blue ribbon and snapped it in half with his claw. He kneeled before me and asked to place my paw on his, when I did so he tied the ribbon around my palm and tied it like a bracelet, he did the same to my other paw. This was so they can see where my paws are, probably so I wouldn't mess up without their foresight…

My uncle looked down at the ribbons silently and I could tell words were being discarded in his head for what he should say now, some part of him was also considering not saying anything at all, but finally he came up with a forlorn "I'm sorry…" in a tone I only heard when he rarely spoke of his past "I am so sorry…" he continued slowly "I… I shouldn't have let this… that… happen," he looked up at my pan and I noticed the mist in his eyes, this was so unlike him, I couldn't possibly muster a word if I was able to. He sighed heavily and asked guiltily; "Am I at fault?"

I shook my head decidedly, of course it's not his fault, what happened wasn't remotely controlled by him, why would he even ask this?

Hodgkins nodded sadly and patted my arm twice. He got up and moved his arm across his face, checked for tears and rubbed that part of his arm while he looked out the window. The rest of the crew was already gone by now, so he looked upward at the horizon and held onto the steering wheel.

"We'll find land," he muttered to himself and made a few things on the control panel click "We have to," he added "We have to…" he repeated more quietly and desperately.

I looked down at the floating ribbon hoops and felt sorry that this didn't go as I had hoped – I hoped that I could actually disappear, quickly and painlessly, but now I had somehow become more of an inconvenience and a reminder of things they think they've done wrong. I even made my own uncle cry, what person does that? Why is it so difficult to do anything right? I couldn't even stop being a nuisance right – at most they got to stop looking at my miserable face, but what good is that if they still had to worry about me over everything? My mind echoed apologies and I didn't have the voice to let it escape, I couldn't say sorry as I always did a million times a day, it was suffocating.

How was it that I felt more suffocated in open air than a cramped and crowded tin of metal and wood and plastic? Why did I have to be this pathetic and upsetting? Why was I like this? What was I like before? Did it matter what the answer was?

I was a wretched little thing – or rather, a wretched thing that wanted to be little. A disgusting wretched thing, really. I couldn't… I couldn't be any better if I tried. This isn't any better. Worse than I imagined, in fact.

My imagination really was rubbish.

Why must it be so difficult to not be myself for once? Why did I have to paint my tin when just the boat sufficed? I didn't even write its name properly, of course I didn't, my uncle was sparing my feelings – it was supposed to be Ocean Orchestra, not Oshun Oxtra, only an illiterate fool would call this work of craftsmanship an 'Oshun Oxtra', I didn't know at the time… if I wasn't so sensitive Hodgkins would've corrected me and I wouldn't have made this boat so laughable like myself. I was… he… he cares so much for nothing, doesn't he.

Gosh. What a mistake that must be…

I tried to curl up into a ball to muffle my own thoughts somehow and the sliding sound of my invisible paw against my saucepan alerted my uncle, he knew what I was trying to do just by the position of my paws and my headgear. I was upset, and I was trying to stop being upset, so he left the steering wheel and came over to help.

Silent as he is, he moved my paw aside and I looked at him. He wouldn't know from looking but I was on the brink of crying like a small child, but as we'd learned our song and dance from doing it over and over, he could sense it. His ears lowered and he sat next to me, being careful not to step or sit on any part of me. He crossed his arms and leaned on his legs while having some difficulty thinking of what to do or say again.

It really must be hard for a man like him to walk in a room full of eggshells that made nonsensical noises…

Out of an inability to do anything else, I slowly and hesitantly hugged his arm and back, hoping it'll make up for the lack of apology. He really seemed to need one, to me atleast, apologies were the only thing I had to offer him. My slow breathing turned into sniffles as I choked back tears thinking about how awfully insufficient or ill fitting this must be for him, and finally I cracked and started crying on his shoulder – goodness gracious, he was literally my shoulder to cry on.

Hodgkins noticed this and held my arm with a paw. "Hey hey it's alright, I'm fine, you're fine, sorry for not saying anything, I really should learn how to," he told me and rubbed his thumb on my arm "Please don't cry… I didn't mean…" his voice hollowed out and he left himself in silence.

I continued weeping and held a tighter grip on him, hoping this painful feeling could go away if I did. Hodgkins' paw moved to my back and he twisted his position so he could hug me properly.

I felt my eyes widen and then looked down, this was the first time in a while he hugged me, I was too afraid to be touched since the Booble incident. Tears welled up and I buried and rubbed my head against his chest, making the saucepan slide off. It tumbled down and hit the ground with a large bang which made both of us flinch.

The sound rang in my ears. I had ruined it, I ruined this hug and now Hodgkins will have to pick it up for me. Why did it have to be ruined? Why did I have to ruin this moment? Why…

Hodgkins didn't seem to care, he only pulled me in closer and held my head "It's fine," he muttered and continued in silence.

I felt a strange mix of emotions, but above them… I just… I really did miss being hugged by him and feeling the world melt away.

…

Is it too selfish to wish this could last longer than it should?

I wanted to be able to ask him if we could stay like this all day… but at the same time I didn't.

I didn't want him to do something he didn't want to do because he pitied me. Then again he probably did most things out of pity for me. Yet this is probably a stressful time for him, having an invisible nephew on his boat, pretty sure I'm the last member of his family that could be here with him… that's really not the best luck to have, is it?

I wanted to let go, but I didn't, but I did. It was just too nice of a hug to break out of, and I was too scared I'd hurt his feelings if I did, but also he could possibly be wishing we'd stop already. Hodgkins had a job to be the ship's captain and I was keeping him away from it. He probably really wants to check if his boat is in good condition after that horrendous storm, it should be his first priority, not me, anything but me.

Why should I be?

…

The comfortable silence was broken by Moomin's yelling below deck; "Do you really think any of this is going to work!?"

He sounded frustrated. Hodgkins and I looked at the floor and my immediate reaction was to go down and try to defuse the situation or help with what's going on, and so it also was Hodgkins' reaction awell, apparently.

He put an arm up against me as if to say I should stay here, but of course I didn't, it probably had something to do with my Joxter, after all! And he and Moomin didn't get along very well, they could get into a fight! I picked up my fallen saucepan, put it on and silently followed Hodgkins from behind to see what's going on down there.

"Muddler should be fine! He's just not visible!" I heard Moomin cry from below deck "I don't think it's worth searching for lost junk like a madman!"

We passed the Nibling looking down worriedly at the entrance (he wasn't allowed in there especially after the night he stowed away and made literally everything all sticky) and went down the stairs. Hodgkins stopped to look at the situation and I peeped behind him, holding his back. He felt my grip and looked at my saucepan but didn't say anything, both of us looked back at the scene between Moomin and Joxter.

"That's because you didn't give a jonk's whisker about him in the first place! Muddler's my friend! You're just a tag-along Hodgkins met right before we got launched into this mess of an adventure!" Joxter replied and went back to searching for something in a drawer. Moomin was holding a slightly wet fishing net and had the most offended look I've ever seen on his face.

"Tag-along!? I've worked to be a valuable member of this crew while you lazed about doing nothing but smoke and eat and sleep! If anything, you're the tag-along here!" Moomin accused. Joxter scoffed and didn't reply, only continuing to search in the drawer. Moomin was getting even angrier "Did you not hear me!?"

"Not sure about Joxter. But we heard from above deck," Hodgkins said.

Moomin's ears shot up. He dropped the fishnet and turned around to look up at my uncle and gestured toward my Joxter "Hodgkins!! Thank goodness you're here! Could you please knock some sense into this creature! He tried to recover Muddler's junk with your fishing net and that obviously didn't work, now he's trying to scrounge up anything he can to give it to Muddler, thinking it'll fix him somehow!"

He's doing that for me…? He rarely gets out of his way to do anything, and he's searching for things… for me?

"First; pick up the net," Hodgkins commanded calmly.

Moomin froze and bent down to do so "Ah, right, sorry-"

"Second; Joxter is doing what he can for what he cares about. Don't dare discourage it," Hodgkins said sternly.

"Thank you!" Joxter exclaimed exasperatedly, still looking through the drawer, he gave up and closed it in favour of the one under it. Moomin growled, irritated at this, and folded up the fishnet.

"Well if he's being 'useful', what are we meant to do?" Moomin asked.

"We… should check for damages. That storm was harsh," Hodgkins suggested and put his arm behind to pat my back, he looked down at my saucepan and asked "Do you want to stay with Joxter?"

I nodded. I felt like I needed to stay with him if he's putting in so much effort just to help me, but I still held a tight grip on Hodgkins' jacket.

Hodgkins' eyebrows and ears lowered and he lightly pushed me forward toward Joxter "It'll be fine. You're the only person he never bites."

I looked at him and slowly turned my head to look at Joxter, he seemed to be trying to analyze my saucepan and ribbons for the context of where I am. I shrank back at his gaze, yet I stepped forward shyly and held my paws together. He sat on the floor and watched me approach him slowly, he patted the ground silently, signaling that I should sit down with him. I kneeled on the wooden floor.

Hodgkins, upon seeing this interaction, felt sure enough to ascend up the stairs. Moomin followed behind, shooting us a quick glare before disappearing up himself.

I stared silent at the closed entrance. I heard rattling next to me and turned to discover it was just Joxter frantically emptying his pockets of everything he had found so far, he seemed almost excited to present them to me.

He picked up a loose cogwheel from the small pile and held it between his pointer and thumb "Look! I know it's not much but I know that the reason you turned invisible is because you lost your tin – or at least that's the thing that pushed you into it – so my thinking is that if we rebuild the collection, perhaps it can make you feel better and you can turn visible again? Maybe it wouldn't help entirely but I'm hoping that it would be enough until you can properly communicate and take the rest from there? Maybe? A whisper at least?" he maundered and offered the cog to me.

I hesitated. It reminded me too much of the time I accidentally almost choked my uncle for breakfast by dropping one in his omelette. I strongly didn't want to be reminded of it, but I didn't want to hurt Joxter's feelings either. I pushed aside my irrational feelings about it and grabbed it anyway. I felt a great lump in my throat as I examined it.

"I knew a chap once who turned invisible," Joxter began, he always knew a 'chap' who did something related to anything, I always wondered where he keeps finding them "It was because he felt very unhappy about his mistreatment and his mother forbidding him to see a good friend was enough to make him wish he could disappear, I don't think I ever saw him after he muttered his story to me like the whistling wind and ran off into a forest."

He cupped his paws over mine which held the cogwheel. "As much as I don't care for worries and do my best to simply live, I want to live with you. I can't bear the thought of never seeing your face again because some storm decided to be especially cruel."

It wasn't some storm.

"I'll try my best to help you as best I can, I'll even take over your duties on this ship if it means you can recollect yourself and have time to recover."

Please, don't force yourself.

"I owe you after every little thing you've done for me,"

No you don't.

"you are wonderful,"

I'm not.

"and I love you."

… I wanted to say 'I love you too' so badly and out of habit. But I also didn't want to. What's wrong with me?

My whole body shook and I knew he felt it as he held my paw, he was extremely puzzled as to what emotion the shaking is conveying.

"Are… are you alright, dear? Do you need to lie down?" He followed the path of my arm up to my shoulder and held it "Goodness, you're shivering! We should get you in the sleeping quarters this instant, you hear?"

I couldn't do anything but agree, I was shaking, I felt a well of awfulness bursting from my stomach, I was tired, afraid, I couldn't handle another terrible thought about how wretched everyone on this boat is, I couldn't handle myself and anyone for that matter, I wanted- no, needed to sleep.

Joxter lifted me up by the paws and guided me to my bed. I sat down on it. I fell sideways on it. I didn't feel the necessity to change my clothes even if I felt disgusting already. I needed my mind to shut up in my unconsciousness and I needed it to do so as soon as possible.

Joxter threw a blanket over me and looked at the inside of my saucepan in an attempt to make eye contact "Do you want me to stay with you?"

No.

I shook my head and waved my hand side to side.

"Alright then… oh, and we can't forget about the saucepan, you're going to wake up with an awful ache if you keep it," Joxter said and slid the pan from my head and placed it on the nearest surface. He looked at the pit on my pillow kindly "Sleep well, Muds."

I nodded, rolled over to face the wall, and slept.

But I didn't sleep well.

[one-boring-person]

Just A Babysitter. (Part Eight.)

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: mentions of death, blood imagery, mentions of hallucinations,

Context: No spoilers this time ;))

A/N: This is definetly the last part of the story, so I'm sorry it's so short, but thank you for showing so much support in regards to it, I never expected it to do so well.😊💛

Part One , Part Two , Part Three , Part Four , Part Five , Part Six , Part Seven

Masterlist

For once, I manage to sleep, uninterrupted, for the entire day, my body trying its best to recuperate after the events of the day before, grief still rampant in my subconscience, though I don't dream at all, my head oddly empty. When I finally come to again, the air around me is freezing, goosebumps rising along my exposed skin as I sit upright, stretching out my cramping muscles as I go, my neck paining me from the awkward position I fell asleep in. It doesn't take long for the loneliness to set in again, quickly making itself known to me as quickly as possible, drawing a sigh of despair from me, my head aching from the amount of crying I did the night before, my body intensely dehydrated.

Deciding to get something to drink, I pull myself upright and walk back into the bedroom, not bothering to look back at the ashy remains that should have gathered on the cold, hard ground, my eyes swiftly adjusting to the darkened interior of my room as I go to the bed. On my way in, I cast my eyes to the side, where I left David's corpse, only to halt in my step when I notice the lack of a shadowy shape. It's gone.

Freezing in place, I stare at the spot, incredulous and confused, trying to think up a solution as to the missing vampire; did Michael and Star come back in the day to properly dispose of the bodies? No, they would've woken me up, and they would've taken the fourth, which I noticed is still in the main room. There is nothing in its place to signify it was ever there, no blood stain on the floor, no dirt where his boots trailed across the floor when I dragged him over, nothing. In confusion, I edge over to the spot, eyeing it suspiciously, my head spinning in its grieving state, the water forgotten as I leave the room, suddenly feeling unsafe alone in the cave. As I enter the main room again, however, I come to a halt, noticing that the braziers have been lit again.

Fear starts to creep into my mind, my muscles tensing as I move, ever so slowly, back into the large room, my eyes flicking all over the place to gauge where the intruder is, before coming to rest on the spot where there should be two piles of ash, only to see that the floor is completely ash-free. It's only when I hear a footstep behind me that I straighten, body ready to fight if it has to. I turn on my heel, my eyes swiftly finding the shadowy silhouettes of four people, each of which have heart-wrenchingly familiar frames. I don't say anything until they come into the light, at which point my heart skips a beat, my breath hitching in pain as I take in the people standing there, believing my brain is now hallucinating.

There, in all their vampiric glory, are David, Dwayne, Marko and Paul, faces lined with worry and concern, eyes all fixed on me.

I don't know what to think. A part of me, a minuscule part of me, hopes that this is real, that they're really standing there, waiting for me to react, but a larger, more rational part is telling me that I'm hallucinating, that the lack of water I've drunk is finally getting to my head, and that I'm in denial. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, the sound deafening as the silence in the room drags on, my eyes flicking between them, refusing to believe that they're actually there, waiting for them to disappear and leave me alone with their vanishing bodies. I reach up and rub my eyes, trying to blink away the mirages in my vision, knowing I'm only seeing what I want to see.

"Come on, say something (Y/n)." The image of Paul speaks to me, blue eyes wide and fearful for some reason, the tall, blonde vampire watching me for a reaction.

I shake my head, unwilling to give in to the images in my head, trying to dislodge their shapes from reality.

"Please, (Y/n). Tell us what you're thinking, or how you're feeling, just say anything!" Marko pleads, biting his thumb nervously. I almost laugh at how accurately my mind remembers them and their mannerisms, but I still stay quiet.

Turning around, I stare at the wall, ignoring them as much as I can, trying not to cry again, taking very deep breaths to calm myself and my racing heart, anger flaring up in me when one of them speaks again.

"(Y/n)? Plea-" It's Paul again, but I don't let him finish, clapping my hands to my ears to block out the sounds.

"Shut up! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!" I snap at myself, slapping myself across the face in an attempt to bring myself back to sanity.

"What're you doing?! Stop, we're right here!" Marko's voice interrupts my muttering again, only to be cut off by my volatile tone once more.

"No, you're not! You're just hallucinations, you're not real! You aren't really there! Leave me alone!"

There is silence behind me, the quiet making me feel slightly relieved, believing the images to be gone, until I feel an icy hand placed on my shoulder, the sensation almost too real to be something my mind has conjured up. Under the touch, I stiffen, my muscles tensing in fear, half expecting it to belong to some intruder who has heard me shouting to myself, so I'm almost surprised to find David stepping around to the front of me, icy blue eyes scrutinizing my facial expressions.

Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, crying out when he secures me in place with his other hand, the emotion finally taking over as tears of grief resurface, spilling over my cheeks again, my mind still fighting to stay sane.

"(Y/n), calm down! We're real, we're actually here! Look, you can feel me, can't you? You can feel this," The blonde vampire soothes me, lifting one hand to cup my face, the frigid temperature of his skin as familiar to me as anything, "And this."

He finishes by pulling me into an embrace, crushing my body into his own, wrapping his arms around my shaking form as I cry into him, finally believing that this is really happening, tears of relief replacing the distraught ones from before, disbelief and happiness rampant in my mind. My hands clutch at his shirt and jacket, trying to feel how alive and real he is, feeling the taut muscles under his clothes and breathing in the smell that I've always loved about him. Three other pairs of arms wrap around me, their bodies pressing into mine as I continue to sob in happiness, their presences reassuring me, fending off the overwhelming loneliness and isolation that had previously set in, each of them catching me as my knees give out. A sudden wave of nausea sweeps through me, my body still trying to recover from the dehydration and shock, black spots dancing across my vision as I struggle to stay conscious, physically focusing on my breathing to make sure I don't hyperventilate. David pulls away, clearly having heard my suddenly heavy breathing, worry etched into his face.

"Come on, kitten, let's get you something to drink." He murmurs to me, gesturing to Marko to go to my room where he knows I have some water, quickly asking Paul and Dwayne to clear my armchair. Instantly, the three vampires rush to do their jobs, David swiftly picking me up, cradling me against his chest as he watches me, blue eyes soft and caring.

I soon find myself sat in my armchair with the neck of my bottle of water pressed to my lips, cool water spilling onto my tongue as Marko feeds it to me, a small smile on his face, the others watching me anxiously, Paul's leg bouncing nervously as it always does when he's unsure of something. As soon as I regain my composure, I look them all over, taking note of how untouched they appear, as if the last two nights never happened.

"How the hell are you three still alive?" I manage to get out, my voice hoarse from screaming.

"I used mind tricks to think they killed us all." David confirms, looking slightly smug with himself, as well as guilty, knowing he put me through a lot of pain.

"Why?" I inquire, frowning slightly.

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well, why did you convince them that you were dead? Why not just kill them?" I clarify, taking another sip of water.

"Because we need them to lower their guard properly before we take them on for real. Half-vampires can be more dangerous than us, simply because they haven't learnt to control their new strength. We also just wanted to be dramatic." The platinum blonde explains, wincing when I spit out the water in my mouth.

"You did all that just to be dramatic?!" I exclaim, annoyed at this confession.

"...Maybe." He says quietly, before defending himself again, "Mindtricking them was the only thing I could come up with when they first showed up. We heard the loud noise from the main room and only just managed to get out in time. We didn't want to risk the kids looking harder for us, so I messed with their heads to get them off our backs."

I think this through, seeing his logic but still upset over one thing.

"Ok, so why did you have to do the same to me? And who the hell is that?" I question, gesturing to the shrivelled body a little way away.

This time, Dwayne interjects, giving me an apologetic look even as the others do the same.

"That's Max, the head vampire, their original target. And as for your first question, your reaction had to be real for them to believe we were really dead, and they did. They stayed back for a bit to see if you would leave the cave. Hearing you really broke our hearts, it was terrible." The brunette admits, clenching his jaw at the memory.

"Yeah, I couldn't stand it." Marko agrees, biting his thumb again.

"We are never leaving you again so that we never have to hear those horrible sounds again." Paul chips in, coming over to me so that he can drape his lanky frame over the back of the armchair, his hair tickling my neck.

"Swear to me." My voice is decisive, needing that reassurance from them, needing to be sure that I'll never be alone again.

"We swear." David assures me, the others adding their agreements to his.

"Thank you." I say to them all, smiling at the four vampires, "What now?"

"Well, now that you know we're still alive and kicking, we can go give Michael and his friends a little surprise." Marko smirks, David chuckling at the younger vampire's eagerness.

"Of course, but we have a proposition for you first." The leader says, looking me in the eye.

"What is it?" I frown at his words, a little confused.

"We were wondering if you'd like to join us properly."

I'm silent for a minute, shocked by what he's offering, surprised that he thinks I'm ready.

"As a vampire?" The four of them nod, Paul starting to rub soothing circles into my skin, "Are you sure?"

"Of course we are. We think you'd make a great vampire, and you've never been too opposed to the idea either." Paul reasons, his hands continuing their motions.

"Well in that case, sure, I'll do it. It'll make a great surprise for them." I smirk, looking around at them as Marko hands me the jewelled bottle I know so well.

"Bottoms up."

*

The loud noises of the Boardwalk are harsh in my newly sensitive ears, but I manage to keep myself under control for the most part, even as the strong smells assault my nose, the bodies around me driving me insane. From my position leaning against my motorcycle, I watch the crowd, as if waiting for someone to appear, even though I can tell exactly who is approaching me just from the voice that accompanies them.

"(Y/n)? What're you doing here?" Michael asks, sounding confused and surprised at my appearance.

Clenching my jaw, I look over at him, keeping my expression neutral as I take in the brunette coming towards me, Star holding onto his arm as she walks with him, her own arm around the shoulders of Laddie, who looks happy to see me. As he nears, the young boy runs over and wraps his arms around my midriff, holding me tightly.

"I'm waiting for my friends." I respond coolly, returning Laddie's embrace gladly, as I know it'll likely be the last time it ever happens.

"Your friends? Who?" Star queries, sounding confused, a frown on her face.

"Oh, you know them very well." I promise her, looking over to my right, where I've just heard David and the boys emerge from the comic shop, Paul and Marko pushing each other around as they always do, "They've arrived, I'd better go. I'll see you around." I smirk, ruffling Laddie's hair as I go, pushing off my motorcycle and going to leave them, only to be stopped by a hand on my arm.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?" Michael checks with me, expression confused by my attitude.

I turn back to him with a grin.

"Absolutely." I flash my eyes at him, relishing in the sudden fear in their faces before I leave them, joining the boys with a huge grin, laughing with them.

"This will be fun." David murmurs to me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he presses a kiss to the side of my head, the others moving in to give me a peck on the cheek.

"Oh, it will be. Let's mess with them some more." I suggest, giggling with them as we move off into the crowd, ready to torment the Emersons for the rest of the night.

[morelikesin]

Morning

A small drabble on an emotional morning with Phoenix and Miles 💕 This takes place any time after Dual Destinies. I'm writing it where they're already married. This is just a quick bit I wanted to write when I had the idea :') I also drew a quick something at the end. The fic is under the cut!

Phoenix really wished he had more days off - everytime he was, there was always a great smell in the house from Miles' cooking. Being off work more often meant more of that, even if a little less bank coming in. It would definitely be worth it.

Lifting himself up from the cushioned mattress and tossing aside the velvety soft blankets atop of him, he stretches his limbs with a low groan - reaching his arms back before pulling them into his lap as he relaxed. Taking in a deep breath, he pulls his legs over the side of the bed and hoists himself over so he could see what was on the menu this morning.

Closing the lid of the cooking pot to steam the rice, Mr. Edgeworth hummed quietly to himself a peaceful little tune; one of which he'd seem to be making up as he went along. Turning his attention elsewhere as the grains cooked, he lowered the heat for another burner to medium, where he was cooking miso soup. Adding in a good few tablespoons of yellow miso paste, he whisked the substance into the already simmered broth before adding some previously cut up blocks of tofu. Raising the spoon to catch a quick taste, he found it was light, slightly sweet, and smooth in a way he quite enjoyed. Something was missing though, of course - turning towards the fridge to grab a few stalks of watercress to chop and throw in.

Stepping out from their bedroom and making his way downstairs into their kitchen, Phoenix paused a moment to simply watch his love candid from the steps. Miles, dressed in his soft, white robe like every morning accompanied by his perfect-as-always hair. Phoenix could nay say the same, given his own styling takes ten minutes on a good day.

Watching the way he so gracefully moved even without knowing eyes were on him was incredibly cute - though Miles would never let him say that, with how against that description he was when it was of himself. For now, Phoenix knew Miles was cute. Handsome, of course. Sexy, of course. Cute, of course.

Phoenix made his presence known by making a soft yawn as he walked down the last few steps, walking into the main kitchen and making sure to gently hold his hand against the small of Miles' back as he stood next to him. The latter shook his head slightly whilst quickly chopping up the watercress aforementioned - swiftly picking them up between his hand and the knife and tossing it into the soup.

"Good morning, Wright. How did you sleep?"

Phoenix made a darling little laugh that Miles loved so much - the type with a sort of deepness to it; a sort of breathlessness. "Well, I slept just fine with you by me, hun," he spoke prior to pressing his lips against the prosecutor's cheek, "with you being as warm as a radiator and all, ha..!"

Miles scoffed. "Very funny. Is that all I'm good for in bed? To keep you warm?"

"I was about to say no, but..'keeping me warm' sure has a lot of meanings. And I think you're good for all of them." Phoenix sighed, sporting a small smile as he pressed his face into the nape of Miles' neck contently - lips gently kissing his shoulder. It earned a sweet, if calm, sigh from the prosecutor.

"..I could say the same for you. But it's much too early for this, mm? We can work out our flirtations after we eat breakfast."

Phoenix kept his dorky smile splashed on his countenance as he pulled away, raising a hand to brush back some strands of hair from his eyes - finding himself not too annoyed today with his 'naturally-spiky-but-not-spiky-enough-and-more-messy' bedhead. "That works with me; everything smells so good!"

Miles looked flattered from that. "Thank you, Wright. It is certainly better than what you normally make yourself in the morning-"

"Hey- don't knock cup coodles! I could live off of those."

Miles furrowed his brows and gave a glance to Phoenix in exasperation. "This is why I'm the one who feeds us. Anyhow.." The former smiled to himself as he pulled a plastic package of soba noodles in front of him on the counter - removing the wrapper and slowly adding the noodle block into the miso broth. "Maya called me earlier. She asked me to tell you that she'll be unavailable all day."

With Phoenix opening the fridge door to grab something to drink, he paused to speak before grabbing the carton of orange juice - much like many of their groceries, an expensive brand that Phoenix wasn't used to, and Miles' choosing. "Oh? Was she planning on taking Trucy and Pearls somewhere?"

Miles shook his head as he wiped off his hands with a damp washcloth that he'd set beside him prior, "Sort of. She wanted to make a trip to Hazakura Temple - she and Pearl are to train while Trucy is their...how did she put it, ah.. 'hype-man'." He felt silly even recalling the term, but Phoenix's expression seemed to prove that he knew what he meant.

"Hah- well, she'll get no bother from me then. I'll just check up on them when they get back. We have the whole day to ourselves, for once.." Phoenix meekly spoke - pouring himself a glass of the aforementioned juice before guzzling it down in a post-sleep thirstiness. He wiped his upper lip with his wrist as he went back in to pour some more.

"It is rare, isn't it..?" The prosecutor seemed somewhat sorrowful in stating that. "I want to make the most of it. It's not often I'm not out travelling, or you're not on duty, or there's no emergencies."

Phoenix parted his lips to speak, before sighing and looking down to his cup solemnly. He set it down. "...Yeah. But..I still love you all the same." He looked back up to the love of his life; a carefree smile pulling at his lips and a special brightness glittering in his eyes, "We're a family. Things are..always going to come up, but our time spent away or together feel all the same to me. The only difference is that I get to actually kiss you, in times like now. Being apart..just reminds me of how much I trust you."

The words hit harder than Miles expected them to. Even with the defense attorney's unorganized nature, and his less-than-articulate manner, it was somehow more meaningful to him. Phoenix was always emotional, and true to what he said - this was no different. Edgeworth's expression was strong; brows furrowed up and eyes purposefully lying low.

Phoenix paused, "..Come here."

He gestured for a hug after his gentle words; Miles all too eager for the embrace. Phoenix's arms draped over Miles' shoulders, wrapping around his neck as to pull himself closer. Vice versa was Miles wrapping his arms tightly around Phoenix's waist; both of their heads lay upon the other's shoulder, welcoming what warmth was available. They held each other for what felt like so long, and simultaneously not long enough; the only reason for their part was so they could meet at their lips, instead. Passionate, and yet soft - just a simple press without much else, yet it was all they needed. By the end of their embrace, their heads leaned forward to touch at their foreheads while holding each other's hands between their chests. Their thumbs occasionally brushed over each other's wedding rings.

"..You know how much you mean to me, Phoenix."

"I know, Miles." He huffed out a short breath before breaking into a smile, "..You could always just say 'I love you'."

And with that, the silver-haired Edgeworth broke into a laugh and slowly pulled away, "Alright, alright..I love you. You know that."

"I love you too, Miles."

Phoenix watched as his love went back to his work - Miles grabbing his wooden chopsticks as to stir the noodles. The more defensive of the two sat at the dining table, glass in hand.

"...I'm going to guess that you won't want onions in your serving of noodles."

Phoenix pretended to gag in response to Miles, "Ghk-! Absolutely-! Onions taint everything they touch..." He hesitated, "..Other than onion rings. But that's the only good thing with onions!"

Edgeworth rolled his eyes with a playful smile, chuckling to himself a bit at just how strongly Wright felt over such a thing as onions. "Of course. Though, you're missing out on their flavour, dear - I've never met someone other than you who has a distaste for them."

"You haven't met anyone with any tastebuds," Phoenix scoffed back - earning a snort from the other.

"Oh, have I? Dear, I think you're referring to yourself there."

The defense paused; his face lifting as his cocky court grin curled onto his lips. "Unfortunately, Edgeworth, I think you have some words to eat. Clearly my statement is right - anyone who's ever tasted an onion could tell you that it tastes like damn garbage."

The prosecution stifled a laugh, lolling his head to look over his shoulder at his rival. "Oh, Wright. I'm afraid you've buried your grave - onions obviously give any dish they're added to an excellent depth of flavor."

"Well obviously they do not- ow-!" Phoenix burst into a soft laugh as Miles leaned over to smack his arm with his chopsticks - ending their court imitations. "Hun-!"

Miles rolled his eyes and looked back down to his cooking. "My love. We don't need to argue over onions. Besides, I'm not about to settle a case over opinion."

"Ha-! Well then, baby doll, I'm prepared to settle a case of any kind. Maybe you just don't have that kind of determination?" Phoenix jested, taking another swig of his orange juice.

"Of course you would be, Feenie." Miles hesitated before chuckling to himself. Swirling the noodles inside the pot, he shook his head. "That's a new one. I don't know where that came from... It's sort of cute, no? Feenie. Hm."

When Miles went to look at Phoenix for his approval, he was numb; his husband's face suddenly not as lively as it once was. His eyes gazed low, gazed dryly. His hands tensed around the glass he held, knuckles bearing white. Worst of all, his countenance really held no expression at all - the fact that it was so stiff, so miserable looking was what'd caused Miles to choke back a breath.

What was it about that name that suddenly struck Miles as odd? Feenie. Feenie.

"It's.. uh.. not great, honestly, Miles. No offense or anything."

"I'm- sorry." Miles was admittedly stunned - a little ashamed, a little confused, very concerned. "..For some reason its.. ringing a bell-"

"Dahlia."

"I'm..sorry?"

"..Dahlia used to call me that. You know, before.."

The room was drenched in silence - Miles struggling to find any words to say. What could he say to that - what should he? Though, the look on Phoenix's pitiful face urged him to find something.

"...I didn't mean to hurt you, saying it. I-" Miles hummed to himself and turned his head to Phoenix, lip bitten and unsure how to word himself. He slowly looked back down to his cooking when words couldn't properly form in his throat.

"It's fine." Phoenix nodded - looking away and tapping his fingers on the table in a sort of anxiousness. "You didn't know."

"I didn't remember," Miles scolded himself, "I should have remembered such a thing like that."

Phoenix looked a little put off. "Don't feel guilty for that. It was so long ago - I.. I didn't expect you too."

The soft bubbling of the broth in the pot filled the silence between them; chopsticks occasionally hitting the sides of the pot, Pess jingling her collar as she scratched herself from the living room all the while. Phoenix tried to will Miles to turn around so he could assure him it was fine, without words - however when Miles never did he spoke up hesitantly.

"I didn't mean to ruin the mood."

Miles quickly scoffed and turned to look at Phoenix with a pained expression, "You didn't, Phoenix. You were just telling me of something that hurt you."

"It's just a nickname, though," Phoenix laughed at himself, seemingly ashamed, "It's a little stupid to hurt so much over a nickname, isn't it?"

"I don't think so," Miles replied, his tone hurt from his husband stuffing his emotions down - such a thing from Phoenix was rare, and it made this hurt just a little more than usual. Setting the chopsticks horizontally on the counter, he ushered himself away from the stove to lay a gentle, lithe hand on Phoenix's forearm, and leaning down so he could rest his chin atop his head.

Phoenix nearly melted into his touch, feeling comforted by Miles' body and his warmth. Finding solace in the safety of his arms, Phoenix allowed himself to exhale a deep breath and relax. Unsatisfied with the arrangements, however, he shook his head and gestured his head down. "Get in front of me a bit, Miles."

He wasn't about to complain, though as he moved in front of Phoenix to kneel, Miles was still a tad confused. Before he could ask why Phoenix wanted him to, the man placed his hands on the prosecutor's cheeks and leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

"I prefer looking at you, dear," Phoenix hummed. He moved his hands down to take Miles' own - raising them to place endearing kisses against flushed knuckles and fingertips, much to his husband's timidity. "..Thank you. For not minding putting up with me and all."

"Ah, yes," Miles started, smiling, "I married you because I simply 'didn't mind putting up with you'."

Phoenix laughed as he realized the hilarity of what he had said, "Hey! You know what I mean!"

"I married someone I just 'put up with'." Miles continued, chortling to himself, "Not in an act of pure love or anything."

Phoenix hushed Miles' teasing by leaning down and pressing his lips against the other's - the two humming against the warmth before falling into the quiet passion, then lingeringly pulling away. Their hands kept their doting hold still.

"..I love you, Phoenix. However, breakfast is due to overcook."

Phoenix shrugged and pressed his lips against Miles' cheek, unwilling to pull away as proven by how he spoke against his skin. "I don't mind."

"Suppose you wouldn't," Miles breathed out, amused.

Miles held himself in Phoenix's grasp before reluctantly pulling away to take charge of the stove again. Phoenix didn't seem to be happy with such an arrangement, so he took it upon himself to stand and wrap his arms around Miles' waist, head resting on his shoulder. The prosecutor pressed his palm against Phoenix's forearm in silent fondness - his other busy stirring food.

[ships-and-saints]

“I can’t stay away.” [Part 1] [Nesta x Cassian]

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE i hope you all like it!!! this is my first nessian fic, and it’s mainly from Cassian’s POV. let me know if you can’t wait for the next parts! and i’d LOVE to hear your thoughts, seriously they give me life and inspiration! also THANK YOU SO MUCH to Bianca aka @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks for reading the early draft of this for me and offering awesome advice and constructive criticism, this piece would not be what it is right now without her!!!

NOTE: MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! MAJOR ACOWAR SPOILERS!! I also recommend reading Wings and Embers if you enjoy Nessian fics, the Target-exclusive chapter in ACOMAF! FST: Moth’s Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit Word Count: 2280

Parts: [ teaser ] [ part 1 ] [ part 2 ] [ part 3 ] [ part 4 ] [ part 5 ] Read it on: [ fanfiction.net ] [ archive of our own ]

"Dear friend as you know,  Your flowers are withering,  Your mother's gone missing,  Your leaves have drifted away.

But the clouds are clearing up And I've come reveling Burning incandescently Like a bastard on the burning sea"

- Moth's Wings (stripped down) by Passion Pit

Cassian

It had been a week and a half since Hybern's War ended, and Cassian wondered if perhaps he should write Nesta a letter.

What would he even say? Dear Nesta… I'm sorry about your father, but maybe training with me will help? Oh, and by the way, thanks for throwing your body over mine when the gods-damned King of Hybern tried to kill us both…?

Yeah, right. Cassian shook his head in irritation, his dark hair falling across his face. He frowned into the heavy, crystal tumbler he held, half-full of whiskey. What was it about words that made them so hard to grasp when he needed them the most?

During the first few days after the war ended, Cassian had gone to visit the Illyrian families of fallen warriors to mourn and pay his respects.

But afterwards, he returned to Velaris where he watched Nesta dutifully attend meals and push food around on her plate, barely speaking to anyone save for Feyre and Elain. Nesta just sat there with a cool, blank expression on her face, sitting and watching everyone.

Breakfast this morning was no different. Even though Elain had arranged freshly cut lilies and chrysanthemums in a slim, patterned vase, Cassian felt like he was watching the flowers wither in front of him.

Since the war ended, Nesta had holed herself up in her room nearly every day. Occasionally, she would have Feyre or Azriel fly her up to the House of Wind so she could sit in her favorite armchair at the library to read, preferring to be alone and undisturbed.

Cassian had been relying on Rhysand and Azriel as well, as his wings were out of commission after the war. But after a few days of rest and applying healing salve, his wings had healed enough for him to fly up to the House of Wind.

He hesitantly circled above, unsure of whether to go in and talk to Nesta or not. Imagined conversations started and trailed off in his mind as he warred internally.

During the few times he had mustered the courage to confront her, his usual verbal prods and cheeky remarks barely provoked a reaction from her, nothing like the barbed responses she usually volleyed back.

So he stayed away for a few more days, trying to give her space even though it deeply concerned him that she seemed to be slowly wasting away before his eyes.

Even her sisters looked worried, often swapping anxious glances. He once overheard them murmuring about whether Nesta might snap, whether the death of their father was just too much for her after all she had been through.

Elain was also mourning their father's death, but the Spring Court fox, Lucien Vanserra, had stuck around to comfort her. He had met Mr. Archeron while on his mission to find the firebird queen, and however brief their time together was, hearing Lucien speak about her father seemed to bring Elain some comfort.

And Azriel often visited Elain while she was tending her gardens, which improved her mood significantly. Lucien seemed resigned to their budding friendship.

Feyre had the Morrigan and her mate Rhysand for support, but even so… The three sisters were now orphaned, since their mother passed away long ago…

Standing on the balcony at the House of Wind, Cassian stared at the glowing lights of the city and ruminated on how much the situation had changed in just a few weeks. How before the culmination of the war, Elain had been the one who was in shock, who needed her soul soothed. How Azriel had been the one to hear and see what she needed, and Azriel had even given her Truth-teller, which saved both his and Nesta's damn necks…

Thinking about the Shadowsinger, Cassian had no choice but to begrudgingly acknowledge his brother Azriel seemed to have a knack with the Archeron women. Probably had to do with the fact that the dark-haired Illyrian was not only tall and handsome, but also mysterious with his shadows and all.

Cassian snorted and flexed his left fingers. I'm going to pummel him into the dirt next time we spar.

He wondered whether Azriel might have better luck talking to Nesta, but the thought sent both a jolt of jealousy and annoyance through his mind.

No. She's mine, he growled to himself, instinctively, the mating bond ringing in his head. Mine to take care of…

But then he shook his head violently, as if trying to fling the thoughts from his mind. No, not yet… Not yet. Maybe not ever, with how things are going. She doesn't even want to see me, let alone talk to me…

He wished that Nesta responded to his customary humor, how he dealt with serious situations. Idly, Cassian wondered how mad she'd be if he just left her a note that said, "Dear Nes, Can I touch your butt? Love, Cass," but he shook his head and tried to wipe the smirk off his face before someone asked him what he was laughing about. Perhaps one day, she would be more open and less… guarded around him.

"Why do you have that smarmy smirk on your face?" Mor breezed onto the balcony wearing one of her typical Night Court dresses, a long, pale yellow dress with geometric cutouts that put her golden-brown skin on display.

Cassian hid his irritation; Mor had a penchant for catching him off-guard. Instead, he replaced the remnants of his smirk with a lazy grin as he beheld her swishing towards him.

So different from the classic gowns Nesta usually wears, Cassian mused… Glancing down at his glass of whiskey, he took another swig for still thinking of Nesta.

Mor surveyed him as she awaited his answer, taking in his dark leathers and the swords strapped to his back. Typical Illyrian attire.

"Nothing," he replied smoothly, "Just glad to be alive, that's all."

Mor arched her perfect eyebrows, her red lips pursed reproachfully. "Me too. You were really cutting it close this time, you know, Cassian?" She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, although he could see in her eyes that she was relieved he was safe. And whole.

He nodded and turned to face the shining city, placing his scarred hands on the white balustrade. Mor's heels clicked as she stepped next to him, her wine glass clinking against the plaster as she stared up into the night sky.

They stood outside the House of Winds, enjoying the cool breeze and the smattering of stars glimmering overhead in the cloudless sky.

The silence was companionable at first, but gradually, Cassian felt a tension creep up, a slight unease emanating from Mor. She was staring down into the depths of her wine glass, as if she could simply divine the answers she sought if she squinted at the dregs of red wine hard enough.

Finally, she spoke, hesitantly. "Cassian… go to her," she said softly, "She needs you. And… you need her."

He didn't have to ask to know she was talking about Nesta.

Cassian gripped the crystal tumbler tighter, swirling the last few mouthfuls of whiskey that skimmed the bottom of the glass. "She… needs space. And time." He didn't know how many times he had repeated the words to himself. He downed the rest of the alcohol in his glass.

Mor snorted delicately, but the tone in her voice was… honest, resigned. "Listen to yourself. Just look at me, look how much time I've had. Years. Centuries. And it's never gotten me anywhere." She spoke candidly, and her demeanor was casual… but still, Cassian had known her long enough to see through the pretense, to see that she was anticipating his response.

He stilled and really looked at Mor then, his hazel eyes meeting her brown ones. An emotion he couldn't quite place stirred beneath the cool mask on her face.

Cassian's eyes narrowed slightly. Just as he suspected, something was different about her… Not bad, just different.

She broke the gaze first, turning to face the city and the skyline again. Blowing stray blonde strands from her face, the swirling emotion finally revealed itself; she looked chagrined. "Feyre and I… we exchanged… words during the battle… I was furious that she went off to chase the Suriel on her own, that she nudged me towards the battlefield, and as High Lady, she didn't trust me enough to tell me her plans…" She took a deep breath and let it out noisily.

Mor turned to face him, her face illuminated by the moonlight, her brown eyes bright and defiant. Swirling with strength and… conviction. And some fear, beneath it all.

"Cassian… I prefer women." She blew out a breath, her golden cheeks slightly flushing with color. "I haven't… admitted it or embraced it, even though I know how I feel won't change. But… my family, Hewn City…"

Mor's eyes squeezed shut as her face twisted and her body tensed. "What Rhys did… He let them into Velaris. Our home. My home…" She paused. "My sanctuary."

Her eyes finally opened and found his, and they were full of a deep, ancient sadness. Cassian didn't know what to say, so he just watched her, her chest heaving…

"We'll find a way through it. Together. We won't let them touch you." Cassian turned to face her.

Mor's eyes were full of agony, but then they shuttered. "They don't deserve this place," she said softly, miserably.

Cassian moved to put a head on her shoulder. "I know," he said. "They don't. But remember what Amren said before… she may have given up the essence of her past being, but she's still High Fae, and I have no doubt she'll still be able to keep the order and peace in this city." Mor nodded, although tears still threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes.

They both looked out at the city again. Cassian blew out a breath. "And who knows, maybe this place will change them."

Mor shot him an incredulous look. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

Cassian answered with a feral grin. "Well, the alternative is death. If they can't behave, we'll just spike their heads to the front gate and make an example of them."

Mor cracked a small smile at that, although her bottom lip wobbled.

"So... you prefer women, then? Is that why you spent all that time at Rita's?" Cassian probed.

"Yeah, Rita's… and after all that's happened, that's why… all this time, with Az…" Her eyes shuttered as if she were in pain, as if she couldn't bring herself to think about how she had hurt Azriel throughout the years, the centuries.

Cassian just stared at her, unblinking for a moment, before cocking his head, weighing his response.

She was right; it didn't matter to him which gender Mor preferred. All he wanted was for… for Mor to be happy. And Az too, although he'd always been slightly jealous of his friend's fixation with the Morrigan.

And… Cassian had suspected that something was different with Mor, although he had always shoved the thoughts from his mind, thinking that the right to do was to let the Morrigan sort out her own truths. Like the rest of the Inner Circle had, for centuries.

But after so many years of coming between her and Azriel, he knew something wasn't quite right, that they weren't meant to be tied together because the mating bond should have snapped into place within five centuries…

"Cassian," Mor's voice was low and commanding, snapping Cassian from his thoughts, "Go to her. Don't talk to her like you talk to me. Don't treat her like you treat me, because she's not like us. She's not one of us."

Cassian just stared and stared at her then, while thoughts and images of Nesta flooded through his mind, unspoken conversations starting and ending as he agonized over what to say.

But he finally nodded, and unfurled his wings. His eyes met hers, and Mor looked… sorrowful, but contemplative. More… at peace with herself than Cassian had seen before.

"You know it doesn't matter to me, who you love, who you prefer… As long as you're happy. Have you told Rhys?" he asked softly. Mor's brown eyes trailed the edges of his repaired wings.

She nodded, looking somewhat guiltily. "Yeah, I told him before you… But that's because he and Feyre are mated." She made a long-suffering face and Cassian laughed. "She said she wouldn't tell him, but that stupid bat would've somehow found out anyway, and I wanted him to hear it from me."

"We'll protect you from your family, no matter what. But, you need to tell Az," he told her firmly. "Yourself."

Mor lifted her chin but looked unhappy. "I know. Will it… change things? Between us all?"

Cassian scanned her eyes and shrugged. One side of his mouth quirked up. "I mean, it won't change what's happened already… but maybe it will bring you both peace. Truth sets us free, and all that, remember?"

Smiling crookedly, he flicked her nose with his finger and then launched himself into the clear, night sky before Mor could do anything more than cry out in retaliation. He smirked to himself, catching an updraft with his widespread wings, steering himself towards Rhys and Feyre's townhouse.

Towards Nesta.

Ever since the War, the bond had felt more real to him, more tangible, and he unconsciously brushed it…

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta… even the winds and skies knew her; they carried her name and whispered it in his ear as he soared in her direction, following the tug from his heart.